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i-turned-into-the-stone · 2 months

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[Commissioned] Rave-Up: Hyunjin LOOSSEMBLE

Tags: Non-con, Drugs, Overstimulation, Rough Sex, A Lot Of Squirting, A Little Fingering, Thigh Fucking, Face Fucking, Cum Swallowing, Creampie (kind of mentioned breeding)

Character(s): M!Reader × Kim Hyunjin

Word Count: 4,836

The music blasted through your ears, pumping up the thrill within you. This was no ordinary party. It was a crazy-ass rave with zero rules and zero inhibitions. Neon lights lit up the joint, shining on a sea of people lost in the moment. You took a swig of your drink, savoring the sweet kick of alcohol mixed with the party's wild energy.

A bunch of tipsy women couldn't take their eyes off you. Even though they didn't really tickle your fancy, you played along, soaking up their attention. You danced, flirted, and ran your hands all over their hot bodies, riding that adrenaline rush.

But as the night rolled on, boredom started creeping in. The once mind-blowing activities had turned into a snoozefest, and the chicks who were once smoking hot seemed like dime a dozen. Just when you thought the night couldn't get any more dull, you saw her.

She was drop-dead gorgeous, hotter than most babes in this rave. Her long, messy black hair and that smooth midriff peeking out between her top and fitting jeans had you hooked. She was straight-up dancing like she didn't give a buck about the world. Her flushed face let you know she was in some higher state than normal.

Well, everyone here practically snorted or swallowed something before the lights went wild and the music deafened their ears. It all came down to what kinda crazy mix of drugs they popped with Molly to either stay aware or get lost in a cloud of bliss.

You maneuvered through the crowd, dodging the blinding lights and thunderous beats. You stood right in front of her as she grooved and jumped to the music. Her messy hair didn't seem to bother her, but her icy stare and the way she swiped her hair back told you everything.

"Come on, just back off. I'm not interested in whatever you're after," she poked your chest once and giggled like a half-drunk person. "Got it? So, move it." With that, she stepped down from the dance platform and headed towards the chill-out zone.

You were the one who scoped out this warehouse for the organizer, who happened to be your best friend's senior. The layout of this place was etched in your freaking brain. There was no way she could escape you. Whoever the hell she was, you were hell-bent on finding out.

Jumping down, you followed her into the hallway, checking her out as she held the wall and turned the corner. Nobody was around. They were all busy getting their minds blown by the sick DJ and performers on stage. Not that anybody would care.

Feeling the heat and looking for someone to play with, you figured it wasn't so bad for being sober. Tagging along behind her, you saw her messing around with the vending machine outside the resting area. The booming beats from the main area turned into a distant background buzz.

She didn't waste time noticing your presence and rolling her eyes. "Oh my god... Can't you get it through your thick skull that I'm not into you? Don't you understand Korean?"

"Yeah, I get Korean just fine. What I don't get is why you gotta be so rude. I just wanna be friends and have a blast together. Isn't that what this event is all about?" You tried to keep it cool as you watched her bend down, her round ass was firm. "No need to be a total bitch about it."

She scoffed, grabbing the canned drink from the pickup box. "Friends? Hilarious." Then she giggled, sneaking a peek at your crotch and spotting your boner. "You're not exactly subtle, are you?" She tiptoed closer and whispered in your ear. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but you won't find that kind of action from this Kim Hyunjin bitch, okay?”

Hyunjin stepped back, almost tripping, feeling extra pleased in teasing you, clueless that she was starting to get on your nerves. The fact that she got all wild at this rave but acted all prude and shit was a total contradiction. It pissed you off.

Besides, it wasn't up to Hyunjin to decide what you could or couldn't get. It was the other way around. "A pretty name," you said, snatching the canned drink from her hand and cracking it open. "Too bad you won't be so pretty after I'm done with your sorry cunt." You poured the liquid over her head.

Hyunjin flinched when the cold drink hit her hair, drops dripping down onto her bare shoulders. "Hey! What the fuck!? You're crazy!" She shot you a glare.

"That's what you get for being a rude bitch, Kim Hyunjin." You laughed and splashed the rest of the juice on her dumbstruck face, making her gasp and cough before she wiped the liquid away from her closed eyes.

As you yanked on Hyunjin's hair, the can slipped from your grasp and clattered onto the hard concrete floor. She squirmed and struggled, trying to pry your hand away, but her efforts were in vain. With a firm push, you propelled her into the storage room, causing her to land on her ass, and swiftly shut the door behind you. Her voice filled the air, laced with anger and confusion.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Hyunjin shouted, regaining her footing. But before she could take any further action, you swiftly delivered a stinging slap to her face, causing her to stumble backward.

"Don't play the innocent act, you pretentious bitch. You sniffed those candies, didn't you? What else would you do it for if not to have some fun?" The room was dimmer compared to the outside, yet you could still make out the glimmer of tears in her eyes and the sharpness of her glare.

Through clenched teeth, Hyunjin yelled, "That's none of your fucking business!" She rushed towards you, shoving your solid chest, attempting to slip past you towards the door.

You allowed Hyunjin to dart past you, her hand nearly grazing the door handle. Seizing the opportunity, you wrapped your arms around her from behind, dragging her towards the left side of the wall where shelves and cabinets were filled with spare beverages and snacks.

In the corner of the room, a table adorned with empty flat boxes caught your attention. You took your time, relishing the sensation of her soft ass inadvertently brushing against your clothed erection.

"Let me go! Uhh!" Hyunjin thrashed harder, desperate to break free, only to be thrown against the table, her front colliding with the boxes. "Fuck!"

She had no chance to turn around as you bent her over the table, applying pressure to her back to prevent her from getting up. "You're quite vulgar for such a cute girl," you chuckled, leaning forward and planting a kiss on her neck. Her eyelids shut tight in response.

Given your height advantage, accessing every part of her body was effortless. Taking advantage of this, you slipped your hand between her legs, feeling the fabric that covered her pussy, and began rubbing it roughly.

"Quit fucking touching me! Let go!" Hyunjin's hands instinctively went for yours, trying to yank them away from her sensitive lady bits, even though you hadn't even made direct contact yet. She knew right away that it was because of the damn MDMA she had tried out. Struggling for a hot sec had her already breathless.

"I know you're getting all wet from just having your pussy rubbed like this. No need to be shy," you said, pressing your palm harder against her groin.

"Fuck off, you asshole! You—You can't do shit to me!" Hyunjin's voice wavered a bit as she fought back, attempting to push herself off the table, hoping to break free from your grip.

"Really? You think I'm just messing around, Kim Hyunjin?" You eased up on pressing her back and pulled her straight up, wrapping your arm around her neck. "Curse at me one more time, I dare you."

"What the—"

You clamped your hand over Hyunjin's mouth, and she struggled to pry it off. Meanwhile, your other hand cheekily unbuttoned her jeans, giving her a clear idea of what was in store.

"Mmph!!!" Hyunjin thrashed harder, kicking the floor and twisting her body, but it didn't do jack shit for her.

You pressed your hand against her mouth even harder, tasting her sweat as you licked up her neck, all the way to her earlobe. Once the button was undone, you moved on to the zipper, slowly pulling it down. You could feel her heavy breaths against your hand while you gripped the waistband of her jeans.

With your arm straightened, her panties were on full display, along with those juicy inner thighs that you eagerly grabbed hold of, loving how plump and soft they felt.

"Damn, you're kinda thick, huh. Why were you hiding these goodies?"

Because she didn't deserve to be treated like this. Inside her head, she screamed about how wrong it was. But unfortunately, there was nothing she could do. Her body responded to your touches, weakening her resistance. You gave her thigh a hard squeeze, leaving a red mark on her skin, then delivered a slap to the other side, causing it to jiggle as she instinctively closed her legs.

Hyunjin's voice muffled against your hand. You assumed she was hurling vulgar curses at you as she grabbed your hand on her pussy. Her pulse raced with a mix of panic and fear. What you were about to do would leave a lasting impact on her, both physically and mentally.

Your fingers glided over her clothed pussy. You pressed your palm against it, feeling the wetness already seeping through her panties. Hyunjin's breath hitched as she felt your touch, her body arching.

"Let's see what kind of slut you really are now." You ran a finger along her slit, chuckling at the dampness despite her desperate resistance. "See? Just a phony slut, nothing more."

You ripped off her panties, the sound reverberating in the room. Hyunjin gasped as the cool air greeted her exposed core. Without wasting a moment, you plunged two fingers into her, feeling her tight walls clench around them.

Hyunjin's body trembled under your touch, her moans muffled against your hand. Her wetness coated your fingers as her body eagerly responded to your actions.

With each thrust of your fingers, she squirmed against you, her sensitivity escalating. Her inner walls tightened around your fingers, her satisfied moans growing louder as you picked up the pace. And that's when you felt it— her squirting, her juices drenching your hand as she screamed.

You continued prodding her insides, her body shaking as she rode out her orgasm. Her legs quivered as she struggled to stand, but you held her steady, refusing to let her escape your grasp.

"You're nothing but a filthy little slut," you growled in her ear. "Look at you, squirting all over my hand like a dirty whore."

Hyunjin could only whimper in response, the pleasure and humiliation merging in her mind. She felt a tingling surge coursing through her body, biting her lip in the hope that you would stop. But you didn't. Her body tensed once more, her inner walls tightening around your fingers as she neared her second orgasm.

You persisted, probing her depths without mercy as she cried out. And when she finally came undone again, the satisfaction of her scream and the intensity of her climax made you chuckle.

Her pussy was dripping, her arousal evident as it coated your fingers while you pumped them in and out of her with increased speed. Her body teetered on the brink of ecstasy. Then you curled your fingers inside her, hitting that sweet spot that made Hyunjin's vision go blank.

Another muffled scream escaped her as her body trembled, releasing her essence all over your hand and the floor. Withdrawing your fingers, you licked them clean, savoring her taste, as you observed Hyunjin collapsing against the table, her legs shaking from the overwhelming sensations.

"You've had your fun, so now it's time to return the favor like a bitch with manners, alright?" you quipped, casually undoing your pants. With a nonchalant gesture, you slid them down along with your boxers and even kicked off your shoes, stepping out of the jumbled mess of clothes.

Before the brunette had any chance of turning around or making a run for it, you wrapped your arms around her tummy and slipped your veiny cock between her supple thighs, giving her pussy a teasing rub. The pure bliss you felt made it all worth it, finally finding something worthwhile in the midst of this wild rave party.

Hyunjin then gasped as you roughly pulled her cropped vest off her arms and tore her flimsy white top in half, exposing her perky tits to the cool air. Wasting no time, you fondled and mauled her mounds. Her nipples instantly hardened under your palms.

She whimpered, trying to move her ass away while the upperside of your rock-hard cock sliding back and forth through her soaked pussy lips. Hyunjin trembled, her back arched and her ass involuntarily grinding back to meet your thrusts.

You pulled her against your chest, burying your nose in the crook of her neck. Her sweet floral scent filled your nostrils as you squeezed her thighs, pushing them together to fuck her harder. Wet smacking sounds filled the air with each slam of your hips.

"You like that?" you growled in her ear. "You like my thick cock splitting those pretty, needy pussy lips?"

Hyunjin whimpered and shook her head frantically, her hands clawing at the boxes on the table. You reached around to rub tight circles over her clit, and she cried out. Her pussy clenched and quivered on top of your cock as another orgasm ripped through her petite frame.

"Fuck! Oh God— Please stop!" she wailed, and hot juices gushed over your shaft and balls.

This girl's smooth thighs were next-level amazing. They had you on the edge of blowing your load right then and there. But there was so much more she had to offer, and you weren't about to let that go to waste. Your primal instincts were in full control, driven purely by raw lust.

You grabbed Hyunjin's hair and yanked her head back roughly, trapping her against the table before you flipped Hyunjin over onto her back, her ass at the edge and spread her trembling thighs wide. She stared up at you with horror as you lined your cock up with her swollen, squirting pussy.

"Please, no..." she begged, but you ignored her protests.

Pinning her down with your weight, you gripped her thick thighs and spread them apart. Your hard cock slid between her pussy lips, already slick with her juices. You didn't give a fuck if she was ready or not. With one harsh thrust, you hilted yourself inside her tight cunt. Hyunjin screamed into her own hand as you stretched her open, not giving her time to adjust.

"Shut up, you little slut," you growled, burying your nose in her hair. "This pussy belongs to me now."

You set a speedy pace, your hips slamming against her ass cheeks with every stroke. Hyunjin sobbed and squirmed beneath you, but you squeezed her thighs tighter, using them as handles to fuck her harder.

"You're fucking dripping for it, you dirty whore," you sneered, feeling her arousal wetting your shaft. "I knew you wanted this cock."

Reaching down, you rubbed her sensitive clit using your thumb. Hyunjin cried out as her pussy clenched and gushed more of her juices. But you didn't let up, pounding into her spasming cunt with animalistic force until she fell limp.

"No, please...I can't take any more! Ahh! Shit—" she begged, gripping the edges of the table.

Ignoring her pleas, you slammed your hips forward, burying youself to the hilt inside her abused cunt. "Shut your fucking mouth, slut," you bellowed, starting to pound into her harder, her tightness took your breath away. "This pussy is mine to use however I want, ugh!!!”

"No! Let me go, you fucker– Hng! I can't take it! you're too big!" she cried.

You backhanded her hard across the face, making her yelp. "I didn't ask for your opinion, whore. This pussy belongs to me!"

You gripped Hyunjin's hair in a tight fist, holding her head still as you ravaged her mouth with bruising kisses. She whimpered against your lips as if you care, biting and sucking until you tasted copper.

"Fucking look at me when I'm using you," you snarled, giving her hair a harsh yank.

Hyunjin's eyes flew open, dark pools of fear and arousal staring up at you as you rutted against her. She was completely spent, her frame trembling with overstimulation, but her abused pussy was still convulsing and squirting weakly with each grind of your hips.

"Please...I can't..." she gasped out, but her words were cut off by a guttural moan as you roughed up her tits.

You squeezed and kneaded the soft mounds, pinching her hard nipples between calloused fingers until they were red and swollen. Hyunjin arched her back, pushing her chest further into your cruel grip as you toyed with her sensitive flesh.

"Slut doesn't get to decide when it's over and when it's not," you said, giving her nipples a vicious twist.

Hyunjin yelped, and a fresh gush of liquid flooded over your cock, still buried to the base inside her. You pulled out slowly until just the bulbous head remained inside her swollen lips, then slammed your hips forward again. The sudden intrusion made Hyunjin's whole body jolt, her eyes rolling back as she took your punishing length.

Gripping her slim waist tightly, you set a ruthless pace, hilting yourself over and over again into her ruined, squirting hole. Wet, filthy noises filled the air as you ruined her pussy, using her as nothing more than a set of useless holes.

"F-fuck! Too much!" Hyunjin sobbed, her nails raking down your arms as she clung to you.

You didn't slow, couldn't slow, not with how perfectly her squirming insides hugged your cock. Each thrust made her silky walls ripple and flutter around you, milking your shaft for every drop. You could feel her juices pouring out, drenching your balls and legs.

"Do you feel how fucking soaked you are for this dick?" you panted against her neck, teeth grazing her pulse point. "This sloppy cunt was made to take my cock."

Tilted her pelvis up to take you even deeper, Hyunjin howled as you bottomed out, the bulge of your cock clearly visible moving beneath her taut stomach with each motion. Her legs shook with the strain of being spread so wide, her toes curling and back arching almost painfully.

"That's it, let me hear you scream," you growled, giving a sharp thrust that made her whole body twist and turn. "Let the whole fucking world know what a desperate little cumdump you are."

Hyunjin’s mouth opened in a silent wail as another intense orgasm crashed over her, squirting hard around your pistoning meat as she came apart. Reaching down, you rubbed her engorged clit using your thumb, her back bowing even further off the table as you assaulted her sensitive bud.

Your own orgasm rapidly approaching as Hyunjin's spasming pussy milked your needy cock, so you pulled out of her pussy, strings of stickiness connecting your shaft to her reddened entrance. Grabbing a fistful of Hyunjin's hair, you dragged the sobbing girl off the table and down to her knees in front of you. She shook her head weakly, but you paid her no mind, guiding the thick head of your cock to her plump lips.

"Open up for me, slut," you ordered, giving her hair a yank. "This load's going right down your throat. Must be thirty, right? Cumming so much like a broken whore.”

Hyunjin had no choice but to part her lips as you shoved forward into the wet heat of her mouth. She immediately started choking and gagging, her throat wrenching around your girth as you buried it as deep as it could get.

"Oh, fuck… Take it all you pretentious bitch of a whore," you groaned, feeling her nose pressed against your pelvis.

You didn't give Hyunjin a chance to breathe, immediately fucking in and out of her throat with rough strokes. Her mascara ran in thick rivers down her face as she choked and drooled around your nailing rod, but you didn't care, couldn't care about anything except the intense pleasure.

Gripping the back of her head tightly, used her mouth as a fuckhole, slamming in deep until she gagged and sputtered. You could feel her throat spasming, desperate for air, but you refused to let up, because her discomfort gave extra stimulation to you so kept fucking her pretty face.

"You were made for this, Kim Hyunjin. That's what you really are," you belittle her lower, heavy balls slapping against her chin, splattering her spit everywhere.

Hyunjin's eyes rolled back as she started to go limp, her jaw hanging open limply as you used her. Tears and drool streamed down her flushed cheeks, mixing with the mess of makeup and sweat already overlaying her face.

A harsh grunt, grinding your hips against her face, you started to unload. You could feel Hyunjin's throat struggling and pulsing as you pumped thick ropes of cum straight down into her belly, filling her up until it leaked out around your girth.

"Swallow it all like a good little cumslut," you panted, giving a few more shallow thrusts to wring out the last few spurts.

Hyunjin choked and struggled to breathe around the flood of seed pouring down her gullet. A few moments later when you were completely drained, you pulled out, letting the last few drops splatter across her wrecked face.

Hyunjin slumped forward, coughing and gasping for air, a mess of makeup, drool, and your fresh cum all the while her ravaged pussy was still visibly leaking, her thighs soaked with the evidence of how thoroughly you had used her.

You took a step back and admired the utter wreck you had made of Hyunjin. She was sprawled on the floor, panting with ragged breaths. Thick ropes of your seed coated her face and dripped from her pale lips. Her makeup was smeared in streaks, mixing with tears and drool to leave her looking like a cheap whore. Her cunt was a puffy, inflamed mess, the lips swollen. You could see her gaping entrance fluttering weakly, as if her body was already craving more abuse.

Chuckling, you swiped a can of beer from a nearby cabinet and cracked it open, taking a long pull. May as well give this little slut a break and let her think she had a moment of respite. As you drank, you watched Hyunjin's chest heaving, her pert tits rising and falling rapidly with each shuddering breath. Her nipples were red, the dark peaks begging to be abused further.

You felt your cock stiffening once more at the sight of her pitiful, ruined state. Seems the whore's body was just made to be used, no matter how thoroughly you wrecked her.

Downing the last of your beer, you stalked over and hauled Hyunjin up by her hair. She immediately started sniveling and thrashing weakly, trying in vain to escape your grasp. But she could barely support her own weight, her legs like jelly after her overpowering orgasms.

You bent over and lifted her hips. Hyunjin screamed hoarsely as you lined your thick cock up with her battered slit and slammed forward, impaling her once again. Her raw, overstimulated walls embraced your invading cock like a vice.

"Please...no more… I'm sorry…" she sobbed brokenly, drool escaping the corners of her mouth as you started pounding away.

However, her body betrayed her as her ass unconsciously grinding back to meet your constant thrusts. You could feel more of her cum wrapping your busy cock once more as you pleasured yourself with her pussy, her silken walls massaging your cock.

"That's it, whore, milk this cock with your tight stupid pussy. It feels fucking nice, isn't it? You almost missed out on all this fun… Huu, ugh!" you grunted, giving her ass a couple of slaps.

Hyunjin moaned and clenched down hard, a fresh flow of her juices splattering out around your disappearing cock. Her muscles coiled with each stretching of her canal, her back arched sharply as she took your ruthless assertion. The battered girl’s body was completely overwhelmed, a slave to the intense sensations wracking her limp vessel.

You grabbed Hyunjin's arms and wrenched them back behind her, using them as makeshift handles to yank her onto your rougher thrust. She screeched incoherently as the bulbous head of your cock punched up into her cervix with each forceful thrust.

"That's it, take it all the way up into your fucking womb.” You offered her slender arms a vicious tug.

Hyunjin's stiff legs bent back, her toes not even touching the floor as you railed upward into the depth of her core. Her raw, overstimulated walls wrung erratically around your pulsing cock, her moisture pouring out in waves to pool on floor

It was all too much for her weakened body to endure. Hyunjin’s cries descended into guttural, animalistic screams as you used her like a personal onahole. Tears and drool streamed down her blotchy face, mixing into a smeared, filthy mess.

"Please...stop! You can't— Oughhh!" she howled, her voice cracking from the sheer intensity of the sensations overwhelming her.

Regardless, her traitorous cunt just kept leaking and squeezing around your cock, begging to be filled again and again, desperately milking your cock as if starved for your seed. You could feel your heavy balls tightening, signaling the impending explosion.

Spun Hyunjin around and slammed her down onto her back, never breaking the seal of her velvety vice. You immediately sank back into her hole, burying your entire cock in one brutal shove. Pinning her down with your weight, you wrapped one arm around her slender neck, squeezing just enough to make her eyes bulge. Hyunjin gurgled and thrashed beneath you.

Sinking your teeth into the soft flesh of her shoulder, you started snapping your hips in short quick motion. Hyunjin groaned and clawed at your restraining arm as you ruthlessly plundered her spasming depths until you finally unloaded, cords of thick cum flooding into her womb, draining every drop as you pumped her full of your seed.

By the time you finished pulling up your pants, Hyunjin was a slack mess on the floor, her eyes glued tight and mouth hanging open. You took a step back and admired the utter wreck you had turned Hyunjin into. Her broken body was splayed, covered in a thick coating of your cum and her own juices, her once silky hair a tangled mess.

Reaching down, you grabbed a fistful of her hair and wrenched her head up, exposing the deep bite mark you had left on her shoulder. Hyunjin's eyes fluttered open weakly, glassy and unfocused from the sheer depravity you had subjected her to.

"Why so sad? That's a good look for you, Kim Hyunjin," you smirked, giving her head a harsh shake. "All fucked out and bred like the useless cumdump you are."

Letting her head drop back to the floor, you fished out your phone and snapped a few degrading photos of her filthy tainted leaking form. Hyunjin didn't even react, just laid there motionless save for the occasional twitch of her thighs.

You brought your hand back and delivered a slap across her already messy face. A thin trickle of blood started from the corner of her swollen lips, but still she gave no response, no cry of pain. Just the slow blink of her vacant eyes as she stared up at you unseeingly.

"You're my slut now, you hear me?" you stated, gripping her jaw and shaking her head again. "You better come running with your cunt ready whenever I call." You shot her one last disdainful look up and down her soiled, abused body.

With that, you turned and left the storage room, leaving Hyunjin a broken, defiled mess on the floor. She didn't move, couldn't move, could barely even think through the haze of overstimulation and degradation. All she could feel was the dull, throbbing ache between her trembling legs. Her entire body felt numb, used up and discarded like a piece of trash after you had taken your fill.

More than the physical pain, Hyunjin felt utterly disgusted with herself. Disgusted at how her body had betrayed her, cumming again and again despite the filthy violation she received. Curling in on herself, Hyunjin let out a low, keening whimper as the first sobs started to wrack her shattered frame.

#kpop smut #male reader #kpop gg #kpop girls #non con smut #girl group smut #loona smut #loossemble smut #kim hyunjin #Hyunjin smut #loossemble hyunjin #girl group imagines #commissioned work

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marvelobsessed134 · 8 months

Text

Package delivered

A/n: Back again with more Nat smut because I love her and I am down bad soooo yeah enjoy!

Pairings: Masculine!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Warnings: smut, strap on use, degradation, rough sex, reader wears a maid outfit lol, dom!natasha, sub!reader, squirting, and I think that’s it let me know if I forgot any.

Summary: you and your girlfriends special package as arrived and you have some much needed fun.

It was just a normal afternoon in your small home in the outskirts of New York City when the doorbell rang. You told Nat you’d answer it, right when she was about to get up. The assassin’s eyes were trained on the screen since the New York Giants were playing against the Miami Dolphins. Of course, her being a big Giants fan she has to watch this. However you’re a Dolphins fan so the two of you butt heads all the time about what team is better but it’s all in good fun.

You’re not as invested as she is, you only picked the dolphins because of their name and the cute dolphin logo. You opened the door to find a medium sized cardboard box. Immediately you were filled with excitement and you felt your panties getting wet at the knowledge of what’s inside that box. You picked it up before closing and locking the door, skipping into the living room happily.

“Oh Natty…” you cooed. She looked at you, taking her eyes off the game before asking, “What is it, babe?”

You held the box in the air, “It’s here!”

You saw her eyes go darker and her demeanor shifting. “Oh, our special stuff is here?”

You nodded and jumped up and down before sitting on her lap, pecking her on the lips.

“Can we open it?” You asked.

“Sure, baby of course. Been waiting for this for months.” Long story short you and your girlfriend looked through a sex toy website and got a couple things. A couple sexy costumes for you and a strap for Natasha to wear. You’ve never really had experience with a strap but you’re definitely open to it.

The redhead used her pocket knife to cut through the tape and open the box. Inside were a bunch of packages for the costumes and she took them all out before quickly closing the box.

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“It’s a surprise, detka. There’s a reason I ordered this on my own.” She chuckled.

That made you more excited. You didn’t know what it looked like, how big it was…

Your eyes drifted down to the costumes. They consisted of,

A sexy maid

A sexy nurse

A sexy cop

And a sexy Harley Quinn outfit that was just labeled as a ‘Jester Girl’ to avoid copyright or whatever. The two of you love to act out cheesy porn scenarios and these are the perfect things to do it with. Minus the Harley one because Natasha is a big DC fan and just wants to see her girl in a Harley getup. Can you blame her?

“So, which one do I try on?” You asked.

Natasha scoped over the costumes before her eyes landed on the maid outfit. “This one for sure. You’d make a dirty little maid.”

You chuckled, “Okay. Should I go put it on now?”

“Oh yes please baby.” And with that you walked into your shared bedroom and put on the outfit. It has a short, black velvet skirt with white lace trim and a small apron, a matching crop top with puff sleeves and white detailing.

The skirt was short and you could see your white, cotton panties through them. Natasha loved when you wore white panties for some reason. Something about how innocent it looks.

You took a deep breath before walking out of the doorway and yelling, “Can I come out now?”

“Yes.” Nat called back and you walked down the hall and into the living room. Her eyes were immediately glued to your body and she bit her lip.

“Well, do you like it?” You asked, batting your eyelashes.

“Oh definitely. Give me a twirl baby.” She demanded and you did as you were told.

“Fuck.” She muttered under her breath.

“Nat, I know we’re supposed to do the whole roleplay thing but I’m so horny I need you now.” You whined.

The redhead looked amused at that, “Well then, you’ll be pleasantly surprised with my new cock.”

“Get down on your knees baby.” And you got on your knees, right in front of her crotch. You could see the bulge through her pants. You watched as she undid them before dropping them and her boxers off, revealing the pretty large strap. It was about 7 inches.

Eyes widening, you said, “I don’t know- how is this going to fit in me? I don’t know if I can take it.”

“Oh, you’ll take it. Now, are you gonna suck my dick or not?” So, you quickly got to work by first licking up to the top then taking the whole thing in your mouth. You began to suck her cock while she was sitting back still watching the game.

“Yeah, let’s go!” She cheered.

“Natty?” You asked. You wanted to see if she was enjoying this too. Not just you.

“No talking, slut. Suck my cock.” The Russian said sternly. Your lips parted in shock before obeying her. Fuck, you loved sucking it. It got you even wetter than before.

You moved your head all the way down, taking it at the back of your throat which made you gag. “Oh yeah, look at you choke on my cock.” She smirked.

After awhile, your jaw was tired and Natasha could tell so she grabbed your hair and pulled your head up. She saw the drool dripping from your mouth down to your breasts and the string of saliva connecting you with the strap.

“Tsk, such a dirty maid. Come on up here and lay down for me.”

You laid on the couch and your girlfriend pulled your panties down. “Looks like someone made a mess.” She chuckled before diving into your pussy, eating you out like you were her last meal.

“Oh! Oh god!” You moaned.

Her tongue flicked on your clit before going back in between your folds. “Mmm Nat.” You moaned again before feeling you coming closer and closer to your finish.

“You’re close, I can feel it, cum for me sweetheart.” And you did, crying out.

“Good girl. Hm, you think you’re ready for my dick?”

You nodded furiously.

“Hmmm I don’t know, this pussy’s pretty tight.” She teased as she started to slowly pump two fingers in and out of you.

“No, please, I can take it. I want your big cock so bad.” You moaned desperately.

So, she lined up to your entrance before pushing in. Your eyes rolled back, you whimpered as you felt it stretch your walls.

“Fuck you’re so so tight,” The assassin groaned before starting to thrust into you.

Your brows furrowed and you gripped onto her shoulders. “Mmm faster.”

“What do we say?”

“Please.”

“You want me to go faster baby? I’ll show you faster.” And she quickened her pace, now pounding into you without mercy.

“Yes! Yes! Oh yes!” You cried.

“Oh my god you’re so beautiful.”

“I love you natty.”

“Fuck, I love you too Y/n.”

And as she kept hitting your g spot you clenched around her before squirting all over the toy and the leather couch.

“Holy fuck that’s hot. I didn’t know you were a squirter.” She pulled her strap out before licking up everything. Then, she forced you on your knees again.

“For a maid, you’ve made quite the mess. Clean it up.” Natasha demanded and you sucked her cock once again, licking up your own cum and arousal.

The redhead leaned back, wiping some sweat from her forehead. “Fucking love this day.”

#marvel #marvel x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #top natasha #natasha romanoff smut #smut #marvel smut #marvel fanfic #smutty fanfic

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circeius-invidioso · 1 month

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I do not get why the Red Corsairs are not a popular choice.

Like.

Like here is the elevator pitch for the warband and then we can come to some justified conclusion.

What isn't there to love?

You want me to turn into an infomencial and make a top 3 reasons why the Red Corsairs are great?

Cause I can.

And I will.

The Diverse Working Enviroment

Here in the Red Corsairs we might have started as Ultramarines but the barrier for entry is on the floor. So anyone can join.

You are Night Lord with a bad rep and no ship.

Buckle up we got you covered.

You are a Fallen and have 20 Dark Angels all up in yo business? Trying to shoot down the boss babe you are?

Fear not, or in our case. Know no Fear. We are strapped and don't get clapped.

You are a traitor that likes their Legion but sadly you got in our way?

Tough luck buddy, you will join or die and your geene seed will join our cause. Nothing personal battle brother. Just business as usual.

Everyone is welcome as long as they follow Huron's guidelines and don't aggitate the topless sweaty Khorne worshipping Ultramarines in the basement.

Sustainability

Unlike the corrupt Imperium of man and the corpse Emperor our leader is powered by miracles (which is trully a miracle how he survived but that on the next section), and we use 0 psyckers to power our crap.

Our carbon footprint is also minimum as we use salvaged goods and don't indulge in toxic industries that destroy worlds.

The Red Corsair base of operation is in the Eye of Terror and from there we expand our scope. A place greatly known for its constant shifts, and horrible conditions but the tan our serfs have are spectacullar from all that cosmic radiation.

Finally we are commited to recycling. As in we take from our victims benefactors and put those stolen goods to some great use. Nothing goes to waste, neither mortal, nor static object. If something is not nailed on the floor we will take it.

In fact we might take the floor too and the nails used to set it in place.

Nothing goes to waste!

Unmatched Leadership

Last, but certainly not least.

The man.

The myth.

The Legend.

Huron Blackheart.

Aka Lufgt Huron.

Aka what would happen if we gave a compressed Guilliman a daemonic familiar and left him to ferment in a warp storm.

Not only the name is so edgy you might cut yourself by saying it out loud. But also it's complex enough that if you say it quickly three times without twisting your tongue theres is a chance furniture might start levitating.

The man has put his Ultramarine brain to use and amased enough influence and power to put the Black Legion to shame.

Huron went from 0 to 100 in no time, he is a self made Warmaster. With no daddy issues or troubles in the world, he goes into battle blasting Alestorm in the voxxcasters.

He does not care.

He probably wears this when he wants to relax.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

He has a biker gang specifically organized to hunt down those who have betrayed him.

They slap those things on their armors not for the usual biker reason

(which fun fact the meaning is, 99% of the bikers are law-abiding, where the 1% are not. That's where the 1% comes from. The more you know 🌈)

no they wear that 1% because that's how high are your chances of escaping from them are.

Is that a bit extreme?

Yes.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

The dude once gathered his buddies and decided...

to you know. Have a casual outing. Nothing too serious, it was a sunday afteral.

So they decided on.

Kidnapping Guilliman.

Which they almost did if not for a Fallen of all people getting in the way.

But still.

The mad lad took Macragge's Honour and went on a joyride/ mini civil war.

Who in the galaxy can turn and say.

Yeah, I stole Macragge's Honour, almost captured my old Primarch. Told a daemon prince they are irrelevant on my way there. Anyway after crushing a fool who thought he could take my crown as king of the space pirates, I went to the home planet of the White Scars and kidnapped and tortured their Chapter Master. What did you do this week? 💅

Who wouldn't want to be a part of that?

You tell me I can be an immortal, gorgeous chaos Ultramarine goth boy going on pirate adventures across the galaxy?

Where do I sign up?

I don't need ink for a signature.

I will use my own blood.

#warhammer #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k #wh40k #shitpost #red corsairs #chaos ultramarines #chaos space marines #games workshop #black library #huron is the chaos ultramarines representation we deserve

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ownedbyfictionalwomen · 1 year

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stay

abby anderson x fem!reader

abby wanted what was best for lev, always. so when they come across a house, she sees her opportunity. thank god the owner is a total sweetheart. a little angsty + super fluffy! 2.9kwords.

!timeline wrong, not canon whatsoever, fluff, cuddles, a dog with a stupid name and Lev being funny and cute, a little angsty. divider by @firefly-graphics !

They had spotted the house a few days ago, perched on a little hill and surrounded by dense woodland, perfectly hidden and protected by the natural environment. Lev had wanted to run right up to the front door the second they saw it, his usual fearlessness overpowering any logical thought, reminding Abby about a time she would rather forget… involving heights and bridges.

After a few minutes of bargaining, Abby had convinced Lev that they needed to wait a few days, scope the place out and keep close by. The two set up camp just out of sight and earshot of the house, envy growing every time they peeked at the puffing chimney and the warmth lining the window panes. What Abby wouldn’t do to get inside that house.

It would’ve been a whole lot easier if it was unoccupied, if they could just waltz right in and make themselves at home, take off their boots and hang up their coats. But close observation had pummelled that dream into the ground when they spotted you, bundled up in a brown coat and wool hat, walking a German Sheppard along little desire paths that you had carved into the earth.

You would return to the house with a smile on your face and the sweet dog trailing behind you, reminding Abby of Alice and pulling at her heartstrings. I miss her so much.

The chill of November had started to settle a few nights ago, with days getting shorter and the air getting colder. Lev felt a mild kind of jealousy working its way around him at the sight of you passing in front of the windows with only a t-shirt on, whilst he wrapped himself in every layer he owned. It must be so warm in there.

When a few suns had set and risen, Abby thought the situation had been assessed enough, thought she had gathered enough information and thought she was ready to march up to that front door and bust it open… and then kindly beg for mercy.

If Lev wasn’t with her, she probably wouldn’t even have paid the house a second look, she would’ve walked right past and kept on her way to nowhere. But her little companion had begged, literally pulled on her jacket sleeve and dug his heels in, when he spotted the house.

“We can just… I dunno… walk up and knock on the door.” He whispered, looking down at his fingers, already knowing the reaction he was going to get wasn’t going to be the one that he wanted.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“She seems nice.”

“Oh yeah, and you’ve talked to her?” Abby asked with a chuckle, placing her strong hands on her hips and turning around to look at you as you busied yourself in what appeared to be your kitchen.

Lev stayed silent, watching you too with his arms crossed over his chest in quiet defiance, “I can just tell.”

“You can just tell… right. And what about that massive dog on the porch, huh? What about him?”

“Hey! You’re the one who told me that dogs are nice.” His face crumpled in annoyance, brow furrowing and lip curling up in minute anger as he pointed a finger at her. He knew Abby was trying to scare him.

“No, I told you Alice was nice.”

“Look, we overheard her calling it Taco. No dog called Taco can be that bad.” He argued, waving his arms around manically in hopes it would force his point across.

Abby’s face turned fiercely serious, “you know what a taco is, right Lev? It’s not something to joke about. It’s a strain of infected that rips the limbs off people and-”

“Shut up, I know what a taco is. I already told you I’m thirteen, not eight. And don’t you dare say it.”

“You’re the size of an eight-year-old.”

Abby ended up promising to make a move the next time you came outside, just to make it all up to Lev. She didn’t expect the next time you ventured out to be when you were chopping firewood with an axe so big it almost made you topple over.

But she gathered her composure and climbed the hill slowly, keeping her eye on Taco who sat in his usual spot on the porch steps, panting with his pink tongue hanging out of his mouth. Abby wasn’t going to let his current adorable doe-eyed expression trick her, she knew he could turn at any moment and come bounding at her with red eyes.

Instead, his head lolled to the side at the sight of her and he trotted up to her before flopping onto his back with a cute doggy smile on his face. She bent down and gave him a gentle pat on the head, which was met with a happy whine.

“I was wondering when you were gonna come up here,” you said, turning around and greeting Abby with a pleasant smile. “You took your time. How long were you out there? A week?”

Her mouth felt like it was wired shut, put in a near-permanent state of shock at your fearlessness (and embarrassment based on the fact that she wasn’t as sneaky as she thought she was).

“Tell your little friend to come out too.”

Taco yapped angrily at the loss of Abby’s hand, chasing it with his head. You propped the axe up against a block of wood and made your way towards the house, giving Lev a little wave as he made his way out from behind the treeline from where Abby had come from.

“I’m guessing you guys want showers, and beds, and food. I’ve got everything you need in here.” You smiled as Lev picked up his pace towards you, only for his hood to be grabbed by Abby as they shared some hushed words.

You didn’t need to hear the conversation to know what was being said, you knew your unusual generosity was screaming alarm bells at the pair, but the decision to welcome them into your home (even if they just wanted it for one night) was one that was made quickly and easily.

The reason: loneliness.

Having spoken to no one but your father, who only came once a week to deliver supplies, it was no wonder you were feeling a little alone. You missed having someone to love on, someone to touch, someone to cuddle. One look at Abby and you decided that she was the only one you would give that to.

After about thirty seconds, Lev shook Abby off and followed you, rushing up the stairs and through the door, finding you in the kitchen, at the fridge. He gawked at the stocked shelves, and you stood there giggling at him, “help yourself, hun.”

Leaving him to his own devices, you wandered into the living room to find Abby checking the locks on all your windows and pulling the curtains closed. Her powerful frame took up a good chunk of space, filling the room with a sense of security even though there was a feeling far from it painted across her face.

“Hey,” you said quietly, grabbing her attention, “you can leave if you want, or only stay for a few hours, it’s completely up to you.”

Abby couldn’t help but be taken aback by your kindness. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone other than Lev had smiled at her, and here you were opening up your home to her. But she nodded her head as you spoke, trying to show a little appreciation before she started her interrogation.

“What’s in it for you?”

Pursing your lips, you thought it over. The answer was easy enough to come up with, it had spawned in your mind the moment you even thought about the prospect of having someone, other than Taco, to talk to.

“Company?”

“Okay… and that’s it? You don’t want anything in return?”

“I guess it depends on how long you’re planning on staying.” You answered as Abby took a seat on your battered couch, shrugging her jacket off and relishing the heated air. You followed her lead and took yours off too, laying it over the arm of the chair and sitting down next to her, slowly. “Firewood doesn’t chop itself.”

Abby laughed at that, just a quiet one under her breath that made a grin break out across your face. Maybe you were getting a little ahead of yourself, and maybe it was a little too ambitious… but you really hoped she would stay.

“So, Lev, here you go,” you said. “Here are three blankets just in case you get a little cold, and a pillow, and just letting you know that Taco might crush your feet if you don’t move them because that’s his favourite place to sleep.”

You looked down at him sprawled out on your couch, his head now propped up on cotton and feathers, making a content sigh burst out of him, “thank you so much.”

“No problem, hun. You get some rest and I’ll make you pancakes in the mornin’, okay?”

“What are pancakes?”

You giggled, “I guess you’ll see.”

The walk from Lev to your bedroom was short, directly down the hall and behind a chipped door. Your bed was pushed right up in the corner of the room, with a solid white comforter pulled over a soft mattress, topped with cushions and more blankets you had found.

The sounds of water hitting the floor drifted under your bathroom door, along with the steam, as you sat down and waited for Abby to finish showering. You had already laid out some clean underwear and an longsleeve men’s shirt you had found at the bottom of one of your drawers, thinking that it would suit her (and fit her) better than anything you owned.

The two of you had chatted deeply over dinner, her sharing details of the explorations with Lev, how they met, her time at WLF, her friends… more than you thought you deserved to know, but there was something about the compassion in your eyes that made Abby pour her heart out. She felt safer than she ever had when she looked at you, safe in a way no one had ever made her feel. And it was overwhelming.

She used her time in the shower to release the tension, letting the scalding water work over her tired muscles. The tears managed to keep themselves at bay as she stepped out, whimpering at the softness of your bathmat and the warmth of the towel you had left out for her. She dried off and wrapped it around herself, padding over to the door and cracking it open, seeing your face move to her as you jumped up off the corner of the bed.

“Hey…” you started, feeling Abby’s reserved nature, the one she had had when you met earlier, pop back up between you, “I have some pjs here for you… it’s just a shirt and underwear but it’s better than nothing. I can see if I can find some bottoms for you if you’d like, but I-”

“No, no. That’s more than enough, thank you.”

You nodded, smiling so tenderly at her that she had to avert her gaze to the ground. She was terrified of crying, letting the tears fall and the strength fall with them. Too much attention spent on hiding her emotions, she didn’t notice you in front of her until your hands were on her bare shoulders.

“You’re okay now, Abby. Both of you are safe here.” You whispered, feeling her muscles bunch up underneath your fingers and her shoulders slowly start to shake with tears, “oh, honey.”

You didn’t think twice before wrapping your arms around her the best you could, squeezing her to you fiercely, trying to ground her to you. She had a few inches on you, so you cuddled her around her upper-waist, palms flat in the centre of her back. You considered pulling away when you felt no response from her, scared you had pushed it a little too far, but her own arms wound their way around your shoulders, their weight tying you to her.

“Thank you.”

Kissing the side of her neck, your pulled back and took her face in your hands, “it’s my pleasure, baby. And I know we agreed that you would sleep on the floor but, how do you feel about sharing with me? Yeah? I just wanna cuddle.”

Her lips were pouted adorably as she nodded at you, placing her hands on top of yours and winding your fingers together, pulling your right hand to her lips and giving your knuckles a sweet kiss.

Once she had released you, you turned towards your window, letting her get dressed in subtle privacy as you checked and double checked the lock before pulling the blind down, the only light now being your bedside lamp. You then shuffled out of your pyjama pants before laying them over the chair in the corner of the room, only turning around when you heard the quiet rustle of sheets and the familiar creek of your bedframe.

Abby took a deep breath at the sight of you, awaiting the feeling of your skin again, imagining what your thighs would feel like pressed into the back of hers as you spooned her. She pulled the duvet up to her chin, willing the cold cotton to warm up as you climbed up to your side, slinking under the blanket as to not pull any from Abby.

When you reached over her to shut off the light, you paused, staring down at her in barely-contained awe, entranced by her beauty, “you’re gonna stay, right?”

“I’m staying. We’re staying.” She whispered finitely, watching your eyes dance across her face, drinking her in before you dropped a warm kiss on the corner of her mouth. You smiled and let the room fall into darkness.

Instead of fleeing back over to your side of the bed like Abby thought you might do, you wrapped a leg around her waist, your thigh pressing over her hips and warming her tummy. An arm wrapped around you almost naturally, pulling you closer as you laid a palm on her chest, along with your head.

Abby fell asleep faster than she ever had.

#abby anderson fluff #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson angst #lev tlou

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rollinouttahere-writes · 1 year

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Lucky Break Prologue

Yandere Straw Hats x fem!Reader

5k words

I finally got this done, boy did it take longer than I had planned. I’ve worked hard on this and will continue to, so I hope everyone who takes the time to read this enjoys it! This fic is for the most part going to feature platonic yanderes, and the reader insert does use she/her pronouns.

There isn’t much One Piece stuff in this chapter, but there will be in the next.

When you’re a kid, everything seems so simple. You look around at the world around you and assume you know exactly how your life is going to go. After you finish high school, you’ll go to college and study for a major of your choosing. Immediately upon graduation, you’ll get a job in your desired field, and have a prosperous career to be proud of. Somewhere along the way, you’ll get married, maybe have some kids, and eventually enjoy a comfortable retirement where you will look back on your life with nothing but pride!

Yeah right. What a joke.

If provided with the opportunity to go back in time, you would kick your child-self’s ass for her naivety and optimism. How dare she foolishly get her own hopes up for a good and easy life.

Okay, so maybe you’re a little bitter, but who could blame you? Who isn’t disappointed with how at least one aspect of their life is going? It’s perfectly normal. Though, admittedly, for you it was wayyyy more than one aspect.

For starters, your job sucked. Not an uncommon complaint, but one that wore you down dramatically. Being a waitress was hell, but what could you do? You need money to live just like anyone else. Not that you were making much, not if the late fees were anything to go off.

You couldn’t get a better job because the more desirable jobs were all long since taken. Well, what few jobs you could apply for given the lack of a college degree. Oh yeah, you’re a college drop out. Much to the intense disappointment of your parents. They kicked you out when you told them and have hardly spoken to you since.

Seriously though, what did they want you to do? Keep going to school in hopes that you’ll magically figure out what you want to and go into horrible debt in the meantime? It’s easy to tell someone to keep going to college when you're not the one paying for it. You don’t understand how you’re the bad guy for not wanting to take your student loans to the grave.

It didn’t help that the friends you had have all slowly fallen out of contact with you since you moved away. You thought that maybe starting new somewhere else would be refreshing, foolishly not realizing how difficult making new friends as an adult is. You had some coworkers that you go along with well enough. They had even talked about meeting up outside of work to just hang out, but these plans never fully came to fruition thanks to conflicting schedules.

Whatever. Dwelling on it isn’t going to help you. You need to focus on the here and now.

Currently, you were on a bus, and not to go to work this time. No, you were going to indulge yourself tonight with a little urban exploration. Today’s target was a somewhat recently abandoned mall. It’s been closed for around a year now, long enough for retailers to take what they wanted and for cops to be beginning to lose interest in constantly patrolling it. It was still under surveillance, but nothing you didn’t know how to navigate.

You spent a couple weeks scoping out the place, a nearby cafe made it easy to do so without raising suspicion. There wasn’t any on site security to worry about, you just had to keep an eye out for the occasional cop car that would drive by. They only stopped to investigate if there was a car in the parking lot near the building. This wouldn’t be a problem for you given your lack of a personal vehicle.

The plan was straightforward. You’d already identified an entry point while poking around the building at night, an employee only door with a busted lock. It took a bit of elbow grease to jerk it open, but there wasn’t an alarm rigged to it, so it was perfect. All you needed to do was make sure no one spotted you as you went in, and you would be golden.

The bus was slowing to a stop, and it was your turn to get off. Shouldering your backpack, you scooted to the edge of the seat in preparation. As soon as it stopped, you were on your feet and hurrying to the door. The mall was only a couple blocks from here in a rapidly failing part of the city. The only businesses around there were the aforementioned cafe and a couple of thrift stores. Fortunately, your way in was facing away from those stores. As long as a cop wasn’t driving by as you snuck in, no one would see you.

As you made your way there, you could feel the excitement setting in. You didn’t have much in your life to look forward to, this was one of the few things that made you feel alive. The thrill of getting in and out without being caught was addictive if you were being completely honest with yourself.

There were other pros to it, too. Sometimes you got lucky and found something valuable that you could pawn. A forgotten piece of jewelry, a dropped phone, some abandoned tools, you never knew what you were going to find. Even if you didn’t find anything, it was fun to be able to explore an old building with no one around. It gave you this sense of adventure your life was otherwise devoid of.

Granted, there were risks. Cops being the biggest one. Having a criminal record sounded less than ideal to you. There was also the concern raised by the fact that you did this completely alone. If something went wrong and you got seriously hurt, no one would be likely to find out until it was too late. That, and the threat of encountering someone dangerous.

So far, you’ve gotten lucky, only ever personally running into a couple of other urban explorers that were fortunately perfectly nice. There had been a few other close calls, but you were able to avoid detection those times. Your mom used to harp on this, saying one of these days you would get killed or kidnapped while doing this. Maybe she was right, but you couldn’t say you cared that much.

At least you wouldn’t have to go to your next shift!

You shook your head at the depressing thought. It’s not good to think that way, even if it was how you felt.

The mall was just ahead now, you looked around the parking lot for any indicators that anyone else was here. Nothing. It was completely empty. Good. Despite your excitement, you keep your pace casual, not wanting to attract attention.

Taking a cursory glance around, you don’t see any cop cars on patrol. You’re officially out of sight of the nearby businesses, so you shift into a power walk, wanting to get inside quickly while no one is around. You put on some disposable gloves and also pull a facemask out of your pocket and fasten it onto your face. Partially in case the air is bad, but also to protect yourself in case there are any security cameras.

The door takes a good few pulls to open up, but that’s fine. You do one more look around, and upon seeing nothing, you go in. The second the door shuts, you’re thrown into darkness. You fish a flashlight out of your backpack and click it on. It became immediately apparent that you were not the first person to discover this way in, the walls were already covered in graffiti. That and there were some heroin needles on the ground. You know, the usual signs of life.

You carefully make your way down the hall, trying to make your way into the main part of the mall. The air was musky, the smell easily cutting through your mask. It was far from pleasant, but you’ve smelled worse. At least you weren’t smelling any shit (yet).

The door at the end of the hall was easier to open than the last, no resistance at all. You peek out, looking for anything concerning before stepping out. There was natural light coming in from some sliding glass doors nearby. Looks like this place used to be a Macy’s or something like that. Lingering near the glass doors wouldn’t be a good idea, so you hurry off away from it. Once you’re in the main part of the mall you shouldn’t have to worry about being spotted from the outside.

The former maybe-macy’s was picked clean, they didn’t leave anything behind besides the counters and some flyers advertising a long since past sale. No shelves, no mannequins that would give you a heart attack if you saw them out of the corner of your eye, nothing.

Outlets in malls were typically very thorough when cleaning out after closing, you doubt you’ll find anything valuable here unless some other explorer left something behind. Oh well. You do this more for the experience than anything.

You found the way out pretty quick and took in the sight of the abandoned mall. Even after being closed for a year, it still had a certain beauty to it. The research you did on the mall told you it was built in the early 70’s and the architecture reflected it. The ceiling had a quirky pattern to it, with blocks of it being solid and other blocks being glass to let natural light in.

There was also an artsy metal structure that climbed all the way up to the second floor, and a big water fountain that acted as the centerpiece. Granted, all of this was decorated with a layer of broken glass from the shattered guardrails on the second floor, but still. This kind of decor was rare to see in modern malls, with all of them wanting to be as plain as possible. This was a pleasant change of scenery.

You meandered through the open space, glass crunching under your boots with each step. The escalators were right ahead of you. Like the guardrails, the glass on was also shattered, but that didn’t matter. As long as the stairs were in one piece, you could still climb them.

You had a specific destination in mind for your visit here. Yes, you would like to see every nook and cranny, but the movie theater was especially exciting. You’ve never been in an abandoned theater before, so you were dying to see it and made a beeline for it.

It was damn near on the opposite side of the building, but that just gave you a chance to see what other places you could check out later. While many people find places like this unsettling at best, you found an odd sense of comfort in it. Part of it was the silence. Provided no one else rocked up, the noisiest thing you would hear would be some birds flying through.

There was also the nostalgia of being in a mall and seeing the familiar, albeit vacated, stores you remember from your childhood. Malls simply aren’t what they used to be, and it’s nice to reminisce on what once was. Sure, it’s not like you could afford to shop at one, but just being able to walk around and window shop was enjoyable. At least you could still do the walking around part even when they’re closed.

As you make your way down the second story walkway, you take note of all the signs of life around you. Lots of spiders have set up shop with massive webs in every corner to make meals of the local insect population. Nests were crammed into the spaces in between letters on the remaining signs, and although you haven’t seen any, there are enough droppings here to indicate the presence of a thriving rodent society. That means there’s probably some stray cats lurking around here, too. You hope you get to see one. There’s a laser pointer on your keyring and some treats in your pockets just for such occasions.

You look up and are thrilled to finally be at the theater. There are blank rectangles on the wall from where movie posters used to be. The sign that used to display movies and showtimes now simply says closed. Well, technically it says ‘CL S D’, but you got the drift.

The lobby is surprisingly intact. The ticket and snack counters are both still here, even the glass around the ticket counter was unbroken. Some of the old snack machines still remained, which surprised you. It was faint, but you think you could still pick up on the smell of popcorn. It could also just be a placebo effect but shh.

You hop over the snack counter to see what’s back there. The first thing you notice is how sticky the floor is, your boots sticking with each step. The remaining machines are in rough shape, but that’s to be expected. The nozzle on one of the slushie machines was snapped clean off, and the doors on the popcorn machine were just gone. You meticulously opened all the drawers and cabinets, hoping to find something interesting. You didn’t. Just some garbage and rat shit.

Moving on, you head towards the really exciting part. The showing rooms. You can’t help but pick up the pace as you run into one, only to feel a touch disappointed. It was completely gutted. The screen, the chairs, nothing was left. Who the hell even wanted a bunch of old ass movie theater seats? Where did they go?

There was a problem though, the area near where the screen would be was completely flooded. You shine your light up to the ceiling and are baffled that there’s no hole for this much water to leak through. Where the hell did it all come from? It also smelled weirdly fishy? The fish smell was so potent that it almost distracted you from all the mold on the fabric covered walls. Yikes. “N95 mask don’t fail me now,” you mumbled under your breath.

Whatever. Spinning on your heels, you head for the stairs to go to the top of the room. They’re creaky and the carpet is coming off of them in bits and pieces.

There really wasn’t much of a reason to come up here beyond it just felt like the right thing to do. You decide to peek through the window to the projection room. Surprisingly, it’s very cluttered in there, it almost looks like a storage room. Oh, you’re definitely going to have to go in there!

… But how?

Now that you’re thinking about it, how do you even get inside one of these? It must be behind some sort of staff only door. You hope it’s not locked, there was a lot of stuff in there.

You rush down the stairs, ecstatic at what a good find this was. Once you’re in the hallway, you whip your head around to locate any possible entrance, and you find it. A plain, unmarked door between two of the theater rooms. Bingo. You twist the knob, but it doesn’t budge.

Not bingo.

It’s unlikely that the keys for this door are still here… but you can’t just let this go. After testing the fortitude of the door with a few kicks and yanks, you resolve to look for the key despite the low odds of actually finding it.

The most likely place it would be would be a main office or something. You head back to the lobby, that’s probably where the door to one would be. The beam of your flashlight flits over the surrounding walls in search of a side door.

Some fallen ceiling tiles and wires almost hid it from you, but there it was. You pick up what looks like a snapped off broom handle and use it to push the debris out of the way and keep the wires off you while you try the door, praying that this won’t also be locked.

It doesn’t turn. Dammit! Out of sheer frustration, you give it a violent shake. It snaps clean off, the knob from the other side loudly clattering to the ground. Looks like your luck is coming back around.

The door still takes a bit of rattling to shake loose the remaining bits of the old locking mechanism, but it finally creaked open. Wasting no time, you hurried in, observing the new area. While it was dirty, it was untouched by graffiti and general vandalism. It’s a simple long hallway with two doors. You get to the first and open it up, greeted by the sight of an old bathroom.

The mirror above the sink doubles as a medicine cabinet, so you decide to check it out. When you pull it open, the whole door comes right off. Oops. The cabinet in question didn’t have anything interesting in it, only being occupied by a bottle of tums, some nail clippers, and a box of dental floss. Thrilling stuff.

You move on and head for the other door. Surely that has to be the office. The door clicks open again, thank god. You grin to yourself, it is the office. The desk is right in front of you and in good shape, not appearing to have been tampered with this past year. Excellent.

It’s surprisingly clean in here. There is some dust, but not nearly as much as you would have expected. The desk itself is old and made of wood. It honestly looks way too nice to have been left here. The chair is, weirdly enough, not present. What, that was worthy of being taken but not the desk? Whatever. It’s not important.

You’re quick to start rifling through the drawers. Paperwork, pack of gum, more paperwork, some pens, a few paperclips, even more paperwork… it’s not looking good. Your heart is sinking with each passing second. You squat and look under the desk as a last ditch effort. Your light reflects off something. Keys!

There’s a strip of tape attached to them, like someone had taped them to the underside of the desk rather than using one of the drawers. An odd decision, but who cares? These might be the keys you need!

Not wanting to waste any more time, you run back to the possible projector room door. The key ring has several keys on it, so there’s a bit of trial and error to go through in your attempts to unlock it. Your heart rate steadily picks up as you go through each key with no success. It’s not until the second to last key that you finally hear that much anticipated ‘click’.

The door is surprisingly heavy, you really have to pull to get it open enough to slip through. It loudly slams shut behind you and you’re met with the sight of two staircases. The room you saw through the window should be on the right.

The stairs are carpeted but not as worn as the ones in the theater, making them less of a tripping hazard. Dust is being kicked up with each step, you can see clouds of it flying through the air and clinging to cobwebs.

Now you’re at the top and there’s another door. This one wasn’t locked. The room itself honestly resembles a boiler room to you. Pipes and cables were running along the walls, and the walls weren’t painted. There was a table in front of the window where the projector would have been.

That’s not what made you want to see this room though. Shelves were along every wall and they were loaded. You’re gonna need both hands for this. Luckily, you have a lantern type of flashlight in your backpack just for situations like this. You fish it out, click it on, and set it on the projector table before turning back to the shelves.

There were lots of boxes, so you grab the nearest one and bring it over to the table to go through it. It’s full of what you think are spare parts for a projector, though you don’t know enough about this stuff to be sure.

The next box has some old broken lenses. Then one with tools. You even found some film, but it seemed blank. You held it up to the light and saw absolutely nothing. You suppose it makes sense for all these things to be in here, but you can’t help but wish there was something more exciting.

You pull down another box, this one from the top shelf and open it expecting to see glass cleaner or something like that, but instead you find another, smaller box. You pull it out, and it looks like a jewelry box. There’s an image on the top of it: a skull and crossbones that’s biting what looks like a wand. Interesting. It kinda looks like something you would see on a pirate flag. What were those called again? Jolly Rogers? Yeah, that sounds right.

You give it a little shake and hear something clatter inside it. Trying to open it, however, is fruitless. It’s locked. All the keys you got earlier are way too big to fit the hole, but you think it should be easy enough to break open yourself at home.

A genuine smile spreads across your face, you found something cool this time! The jewelry box goes into your backpack, and you’re about to resume your search when you hear something. It sounds like voices in the hall.

Quickly, but quietly, you snatch your lantern to turn it off and creep down the stairs and towards the door to try and listen better. There are two sets of footsteps but only one voice.

“-nd today WE are doing an overnight challenge in a haunted abandoned mall!”

You cringe. Oh great. Youtubers. Liars too based off that comment about the mall being haunted. In all the research you did on this place, you never saw so much as one ghost sighting.

Huffing out a sigh, you know that your fun is going to be cut short. There’s no telling whether or not these idiots parked right by the front door. You need to get out before cops show up. That, and you don’t want to accidentally end up in one of their videos. You can practically see the title now: “REAL ghost sighting at ABANDONED mall??? SCARY!!! (NOT CLICKBAIT)”

No thank you.

Lucky for you, you’ve already got a nice find, so at least you’re not leaving empty handed. You wait until they go into one of the theaters to leave the room, carefully easing the door open and closed. After a moment of thought, you lock it, too. You want this to be untouched when you come back. Naturally, this means you’re taking the keys with you. They can’t be that important to anyone if they got left behind like this.

Your escape from the mall and trip back home was uneventful for the most part. You were able to leave unnoticed and before cops got there. The youtubers did, indeed, park at the front door, so it was only a matter of time.

The apartment complex you lived in was kinda run down, but overall not that bad. Sure, it was dingy and the bathroom had a mold problem, but it kept you warm and dry so things could be worse.

After entering your apartment, you immediately lock your door behind you. No sense leaving it unlocked and letting some creep in. With that taken care of, you drop your backpack by the couch and go to grab some tools.

You unceremoniously plop yourself onto the couch and toss a screwdriver and hammer onto the coffee table. You bring out the old jewelry box and really look at it now that you’re in a properly lit room. The dust was really caked on, prompting you to use your sleeve to wipe away the bulk of it.

The picture was very detailed. The skull and crossbones were painted beautifully, even the small wand looked lovely. The box was wooden, expertly varnished. You already feel bad that you’re going to have to break this open. Hopefully you’ll be able to keep the damage to a minimum, that way you can use it for yourself after this.

Experimentally, you try to pull it open again. It does have some give to it, but not enough to actually get it open. You grab the screwdriver and wedge it into the sliver of space between the lid and the box. You try and pry it open. It creaks a little, opens up slightly more, but stops short. Okay, time for the big guns.

Using your feet to hold either side of it in place, you grab the hammer, aim, and bring it down on the screwdriver handle. You hear a crack, but it’s still closed. You raise your arm and bring it down again, harder this time.

CRACK

Both the plastic screwdriver handle and the lock shatter from the force of the blow. You discard the hammer onto the floor next to the bits of handle and throw open the box.

There’s only two things in there. A rolled up piece of paper, and a necklace. The pendant on the necklace sports the same image as the top of the jewelry box over a bronze lattice patterned circle. You gingerly pick it up. It’s thin and feels brittle, like you could snap it in half without much force. What’s the point of a necklace being this fragile?

You set it back down gently and pick up the paper. It’s almost as bad as the necklace, it looks very old and is crumbling around the edges. Slowly, you unfurl it and see there’s a message scrawled onto it with red ink.

“Congratulations on your lucky find

I wonder what desire you have in mind

Close your eyes, make a wish, and break the pendant in two

Whatever you want most will come to you”

An eyebrow quirks up and the strange rhyme. What, was this left by a genie? You sigh, and here you thought you might get something valuable out of this.

Still… What would it hurt to play along for a second?

You grab the pendant again and examine it while you mull over what to wish for. Money? Nah. Money can be earned, however difficult it may be. If you’re gonna be using some sort of (allegedly) all powerful magic necklace, it should be something more unobtainable. What do you really want?

If you’re completely honest with yourself, you hate where you are in life right now. The monotony, the loneliness, everything. You need a new start. A new start with some new friends. Friends that actually give a shit about you. Anyone that loves you for you. Yeah, that sounds good.

Leaning back, you close your eyes and make your wish. You’re not sure you need to say it out loud, but do anyway, “I wish to have a fresh start somewhere new. A place with adventure where I can be loved.”

The pendant snaps in half easily. You hold your breath and wait. Nothing. You crack an eye open. You’re still in your same old apartment. Of course you are. Why did you think that would work? How childish.

Even though you expected this, you can’t help the wave of bitterness that washes over you. Angrily, you stuff the broken pendant into your pocket and grab your backpack. You stand up to go put this shit away, but…

You fall through the floor.

The floor didn’t break, it’s like it just ceased to exist. As you fall, everything goes black, and there isn’t a sound to be heard besides your own screaming. What’s happening? What’s going on? Shit, was that stupid thing really magical??? Was it fucking cursed???

Trying not to panic wasn’t even being considered, how could anyone not freak out from this? So here you are, screaming and crying while holding onto your backpack for dear life as if it’s going to help you right now.

Suddenly, you can see light coming from underneath you. You’re torn between being relieved to see light and being terrified that you’re about to splatter onto the ground. A wave of warmth hits you, carrying the smell of sea water. You realize that the ‘ground’ beneath you is actually a huge body of water.

And then you’re in it.

There wasn’t enough time to prepare for the sudden immersion. Water flooded into your open mouth and you scrambled and flailed in an attempt to get to the surface. As you break the surface, you’re coughing and hacking the salty water out of your lungs. You weren’t anywhere near the ocean, how are you suddenly fighting for your life in one?

You whip your head around and are horrified to see absolutely nothing, No land or ships in sight. Oh my god. You’re going to die out here.

“HEEYYY! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

You attempt to spin around to identify your potential savior, but a wave hits you, knocking you under the water again. Dammit, no! Not like this!

Miraculously, you get back to the surface again, and the second you do, something grabs onto your shoulder and pulls. And pulls. And keeps pulling. You went from almost drowning to feeling like you’re flying over the surface of the ocean. In an attempt to feel some semblance of security, you grab onto whatever is holding you.

It… it feels like a hand??? No, that doesn’t make sense, who could be pulling you along like this with their hand???

“Luffy, you need to slow down! You’re pulling her in too fast!”

You try to look over your shoulder to see what the hell is going on, and through your hair you think you can make out what looks like two people on a small boat. The boat is already very close and rapidly getting closer. Way too close!

THWACK

And everything goes dark again.

#one piece #yandere one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece reader insert #yandere #platonic yandere #monkey d luffy #zoro roronoa #this prologue got so out of hand it was only supposed to be like 1k words i don't know what happened #lucky break

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corazondebeskar-reads · 6 months

Text

you know you never stood a chance - chapter six

you know you never stood a chance series

six: hold me like a grudge

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

qz!Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 2.6k

Summary: After a tense situation, you reunite with Ellie and Joel.

Warnings: dub-con due to power imbalance, free use, sex as payment, vaginal sex, cum eating, Joel is mean/bad with feelings, this is not canon compliant, no use of y/n, degradation, canon-typical violence and danger, description of injury, spanking, pussy spanking, rough oral (m receiving)

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

When the grass outside rustles underfoot, you flinch. You’ve been there for a while, long enough that the adrenaline started to seep out and leave you shaking in its wake.

The only reason you don’t shoot when you see a shadow is that Ellie takes the risk of speaking first.

“Hey, is that you?”

It’s so quiet, so careful. A sick part of you wants to stay silent, to hope they leave. But you’re forced to reckon with Joel’s evaluation of you: you’d never survive out here on your own. Probably wouldn’t even make it back to Boston, and then what? Get shot by FEDRA trying to get back in?

“Ellie?” you whisper back.

“Hey, Joel!” Ellie starts to yell, stopping when you shush her loudly from the garage.

You move, stepping closer to the frame where you can see her before moving into the light. She throws her arms around you, and you freeze, holding the gun pointed to the grass, too afraid to move.

“I know he’s an asshole, but don’t do that again,” she scolds, brow furrowed.

You’re thrown off guard but feel a rush of affection for the girl. “Sorry,” you say.

Joel comes out of the house from the back door and glowers at the two of you. “Inside,” he barks.

You follow behind Ellie as she rolls her eyes and prattles on about a large stick and what he should do with it.

He shuts the door behind you, clearly having scoped out the whole house before Ellie found you. He turns to her. “Upstairs.”

“What?”

“Upstairs, now,” he snarls.

She goes to protest but catches your eye.

“Please,” you say. You don’t want her to witness whatever he’s about to say to you.

When she’s gone, he rounds on you. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

You stare at the floor, lips twisted as you fight the urge to lash out.

He lifts your chin with his hand. “Huh? You listening to me?” He huffs out a laugh. “Clearly not, or we wouldn’t be here right now. We got one fuckin’ rule, do you remember?”

When you still don’t answer, he shakes your chin a little, jostling your jaw and drawing your glare to him.

“Well?” he says.

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“Do as I’m fuckin’ told,” you mimic his drawl, poorly.

This wasn’t your first time out. After that night, when he fought with Tess, he dragged you with them on a supply run. It was fairly standard shit. Before you left the QZ, he had armed you—for appearances only, he reiterated, don’t touch those unless you’re gonna be ready to use them—and then told you the rule.

And you listened. Same shit, different place. He said drop, you’d drop. He said run, you’d run. Mostly, you just kept a nice resting bitch face in place so their contacts wouldn’t know you were an easy target.

“What am I gonna do with you, huh?” he says, still holding your face in place. He tugs the revolver from your other hand, not that you resist, and shoves it in his waistband.

“Just leave me here.”

“Shut up.”

“You asked me a question.”

“Yeah, and I expected a real answer, not a stupid one.”

You move to kneel, but he grabs you.

“Not a bad idea, sweetheart, but you gotta watch that ankle.”

The thought gives him pause, and you watch apprehensively as he considers things.

“We’re staying here today. You’re gonna rest that fuckin’ ankle, and we’ll get back on the road in the morning.”

Ellie is thrilled to discover you’ll be taking the day off in a place with real beds. She finds some old sudoku books and pencils and hangs out in “her” room.

True to his word, Joel makes you stay in bed all day. Your foot is propped up on a stack of pillows. You sulk, but he brings you a couple of books to choose from, a bottle of water, and some cold soup, just like getting sick back in the old days.

Actually, it’s a little too much like the old days. It makes you want to run. Instead, you let the historical nonfiction novels lull you in and out of a hazy sleep.

He comes to get you after nightfall. Ellie’s sound asleep, and he brings you into the room he had staked claim to.

“You ready to say sorry?”

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you mumble.

“What were you thinking?” He asks again. He’s softened since this morning, to your great relief.

“I’m tired of being your burden.”

“Is this ‘cause I don’t get to fuck you?”

“No. I mean, sort of. It’s bad enough that I can’t pay you out here. But then to be a risk, to create more trouble than just being a mouth to feed…”

He’s quiet for a minute. “Lay down on your back. Head over here,” he gestures to the end of the mattress.

The abrupt change is exhausting, but you do as you’re told. Once you’re lying there, head draped off the edge of the bed, he reaches down and takes his cock out. He has to bend his knees a little, being just tall enough over average to not quite fit together, but he slides into your mouth.

It’s so easy this way for him to press right into your throat.

You try to pour out your excess emotions, the residual fear, the relief, everything by finding purpose through his dick, but he pulls out when you try to get a hold of him.

“Not this time, sweetheart. You want me to take what ya owe me? Fine. I’m gonna use your throat as a fuckin cocksleeve.”

The words shouldn’t please you, but they do. The catharsis of the relief, the elation at being useful, and his touch all send you trembling.

“You better not cum,” he warns. “Not until I’m fillin’ ya up.”

You want to argue that he’s already filling you up, but a) he’s absolutely not in the mood, and b) well, he’s filling you up, so you can’t really speak.

Instead, you do the only thing you really can do. You lay there and take it. He lets you curl your hands around his thighs, holding on so you don’t go scooting up the mattress during the more aggressive thrusts. It lets you stabilize your head and tilt to an angle that grants just a little more air.

It’s rough in a way he hasn’t been before, which is saying something, but it’s also transcendental. Maybe you’re being dramatic, but you’re in the fucking clouds. You’ve never felt so light, so peaceful.

He pulls out abruptly, fingers squeezing the base of his cock as he pants. It’s still so close to you, so you use his legs to push upward and try to get it back in your mouth.

He swats at your cunt. “Quit it.”

You moan, the pain turning quickly into a tingle that spreads across your lips and clit. It worked, though, and you back off, now dangling half off the bed, only supported by your palms against the thick trunks of his thighs.

He scoops you up, an arm under each of yours, and pushes you back up on the mattress. “Hands ‘n knees,” he says.

You’re still feeling a little weird, so when you’ve gotten into position, you drag a pillow over and nuzzle your face down into it, arms threaded under it to hold it against you.

“You’re all cockdumb now, huh?” His hand traces over your lower back. You moan, a quiet, rumbly thing, and press back toward him.

He smacks your ass. “Hold still, pretty girl. Let me open you up.”

You don’t do more than drool and moan as he works his fingers into you, stretching you to ease his passage. His other hand stays on your lower back like a brand, an anchor. When he pulls his fingers out, he licks them clean before guiding his cock to where you’re dripping and aching for him.

He pushes in slowly, and you arch your back under his broad palm. He pushes you back down against the bed, hand settling between your shoulder blades and another wrapped in your hair.

“Stupid girl,” he grumbles. “Foolish little brat.”

Tears well up. It’s so much. Everywhere he touches you is past ignition, already licked clean by his flame, ash smoldering in the wake.

“Quiet,” he hisses, and you realize the soft little sounds permeating your dream were your moans and gasps. You bite your lip hard, face screwing up at the pain, but it works.

He doesn’t like that, though. He lets go of your hair and sighs, pulling out just to roll you onto your back before plunging back in and picking up the pace to take you apart. He pushes his thumb into your mouth, groaning as your teeth sink into the dry and calloused flesh, tethering you to the earth.

The sound of his hips slapping against you should be a bigger concern, but that would mean stopping or slowing down, and he doesn’t see that as an option. Instead, he watches as your blank eyes blink up at him, wet and wide, and your lips wrapped around his thumb.

“Christ. You really just need your holes filled, and suddenly, ya know how to be good. Fuckin’ slut.”

“Your fault,” you choke out, the words slammed out of you by his aggressive pounding. “Wasn’t—b-before.”

You wish you hadn’t said anything when he laughs again, dark and pleased with himself.

“Yeah, you’re right. Only a fuckin’ whore for me now, huh?”

Finally, finally, he touches you when he’s getting close, tugging the thumb from your mouth to rub the wet pad of it against your clit.

“You ready, sweetheart? Gonna cum on my cock, make me feel good?”

You whimper, nodding. “Yes, Joel, please.”

He works you to it until you break down, clenching around him so tight. He has to make himself pull out, his sex-addled brain screaming for him to bury himself deep in you. Instead, he covers your stomach.

You’re shaking through the aftershocks of your orgasm, and he rubs at your clit until you give him another one. It’s easy, you fall right apart, and then you’re practically limp, breasts heaving with the effort to breathe steadily.

He swipes a finger through his mess and brings it up to your mouth. You suck it clean, and he does it again until he’s fed you most of it. You take it each time, sucking and licking his finger, and watching him with wide eyes.

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet like this. Why can’t you just listen this good all the time?” It’s said softly, fondly, but it cuts you deep. He stands up, stretches, and leaves the room without another word.

You start to cry, burying your face in the pillow and holding your breath so he doesn’t hear. You’ve gotten good at this, over the decades, of choking down your weakness and swallowing it whole, letting it rip you up inside rather than out, so by the time he’s come back in the room, you’ve quieted.

You rub away any lingering tears with sleepy fists and a yawn.

“You think you can sleep with your ankle propped up?” he says when he crosses the room.

You nod, one fist still over your left eye, which won’t stop stinging, and sling your legs over the side of the bed, sitting up.

He catches your shoulder. “You’re stayin’ right here. Lay down, and I’ll set it up.”

Slowly, you settle back onto the bed. He must really not want you to walk on it if he’s going to trade rooms. Maybe the injury was worse than you thought.

The rest of his cum has dried, leaving a tacky residue on your stomach. He doesn’t wipe it clean, though; he never does anymore. Not worth wasting the water over, you think.

That’s what he tells himself, too.

The gentle hands you remember from so long ago have returned, delicately arranging pillows under your leg. You twist your top half to thank him, only to find him pulling back the blanket to slide into bed beside you.

It’s fully dark, now, when he presses a kiss into your hair and settles on his back beside you. Even through both of your shirts, you can feel the warmth of him where your back presses to him. He doesn’t hold you, but the closeness is enough to let you drift off to sleep.

The sun breaks through the bedroom windows before the birdsong wakes you. Joel is already awake when you roll over. This time, he does sneak his arm beneath you, pulling you to his chest.

You can’t breathe, too afraid the movement will fully wake him up. He’s never, not once, given you this much of him. You idly wish he hadn’t, because how were you supposed to live without it now?

“This is a nice quilt,” he says, shattering the silence before you work yourself into a panic. “Shame we gotta leave it here.”

“You get the stuff, and I’ll make you one when we get back.” Your voice is muffled in his shirt, too tense to pull away and properly look at him.

“Didn’t know you could sew.”

“I’m a woman of many talents, Miller. Sucking cock, basic sewing, annoying the hell outta you…” Aw, fuck. End of list. Oh well.

He chuckles, and you hate the way you can never tell if he’s laughing at your joke or laughing at you.

You fall back into quiet again, and when you think he might have dozed back off, you relax a little, letting your head find a home in the hollow where his arm meets his chest. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to his t-shirt.

“I know, sweetheart. Look, when we get home, if you want to leave, I won’t stop ya. But not out here. Not like this.”

“M’not leaving. I got a quilt to make, remember?”

He leans down and kisses the top of your head, resting that way for a moment with you drawn close.

Of course, the peace doesn’t last. Ellie bursts through the door, boundless energy as always, sending your already-racing heart into overdrive.

“—room is empty; what did you say to her? Couldn’t you just have been nice?”

Joel waits, staring at her blankly. You, however, have buried your face in his side. You’re both fully dressed, and there’s no evidence of anything, but you know she’s not stupid.

“Oh, ew, god, come on! What the fuck is wrong with you?” She’s backing out, pulling the door behind her, but her disgust carries down the hall.

Joel tilts your chin up with a curled finger. “At least we know she didn’t hear any of the other times I fucked ya.”

Your cheeks are on fire, and you can’t look him in the eye.

“It’s not like she walked in on us,” he teases.

“She’s never going to talk to us again,” you groan.

“She’ll get over it. If not, you can give her the talk.”

“Oh no. No, you can handle that.”

“Let’s let the Fireflies handle that,” he decides, scrubbing at his beard with one hand. He gets up, groaning. “Should make it to Bill’s today, even if we go slow.”

“Joel—”

“I know you’re not about to argue with me, right?”

Your mouth twists into a scowl, but you soften when you look up at him. The sun through the window is bathing him in yellow, and his brown eyes trip up your heart like they always do.

“No,” you say with a sigh. “I’ll follow you.”

He stops you before you leave the room, two fingers under your chin. “When we get to Bill’s, I’ll help you add another thing to that skillset of yours.”

“What?”

He hands you back the revolver you had stolen from the garage skeleton. “I’ll teach ya how to shoot.”

next chapter

*title from "Hold Me Like a Grudge" by Fall Out Boy

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #joel miller x female oc #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #you know you never stood a chance series

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teal-fiend · 1 month

Text

an observer who has perfected the craft of pushing people into predator mode.

word count: 2600

You were hanging out with this guy all day. You hadn't known each other for that long, a few months. and you still didn't know; were you just going to be friends? Or was it going to be romantic? You didn't mind either way, really. Although you would have liked clarification. But he seemed genuinely interested in you; you had shared interests, and it was just easy being with him - not in a bad way. it was just effortless in a way that was refreshing.

You spent the day out and about; walking around, you got lunch together earlier, but a few hours passed and now you were going back to his house

you expected a kiss, but instead he puts a hand on your stomach. Strange, but not entirely unwanted.

"Are you hungry?" he asked

"Um, yeah, I suppose."

You were starting to get hungry; it was time for afternoon tea, or an early dinner.

"Do you mind?" He asked softly. You muttered a no, you didn't mind. He petted your stomach gently, scoping it out, it seemed like. You felt him gently poke at your soft middle, moving briefly to feel either side of your hips, before returning to the belly area.

You looked to his face and he was concentrated, almost with a medical focus. You felt your face flush with the precise attention you were getting. But you also wanted to ask him what the hell he was up to.

Soon he looked up at you, your eyes met, his expression was neutral, like this was a normal thing for him. He asked you if you wanted a belly rub. You though that was what he just did. But you had no reason to refuse, and now you were curious - you wanted to see where this was going. So you agreed.

He led you over to a kind of couch-chair, that he encouraged you to seat yourself in. He guided you to lie back, making sure you were comfortable. Then he went back to what he was doing, pressing lightly on your stomach.

He worked in on your belly, kneading down on it with some force, but not a painful amount. When he got lower down, on your intestines, you felt some pressure.

"This is your lunch," he pointed out, poking at a firm spot under your skin. It was, you remembered the time the two of your spent at the cafe earlier. You didn't think that he'd be massaging your stomach later

you blushed, unsure of his motivations still. He began working on that spot, and you did feel some release of pressure, accompanied by a gurgle as the food moved down your digestive tract.

"What are you doing?" You asked, on the verge of mild annoyance from his lack of an explanation.

"I'm making room," he said simply.

...

You could piece things together. He probably had figured out that you were a pred. And he probably wanted to feed you. prey.

But how did he know? Was it really that obvious? You felt your face heat with embarrassment. How many people knew just by seeing you? How many people knew but never brought it up out of courtesy?

Anyway, You should have probably told him that you don't really eat prey. Not that often anyway; you definitely weren't hungry enough right now.

"Do you mind if I...?" He touched the corner of my mouth. You told him again, no, go ahead. He parted your lips carefully with his fingers, with the confidence and expertise of a dentist, he inspected your teeth. He pressed down on their points; you heard him hum, as if in confirmation. A practiced eye could tell a predator by the teeth. The canines tended to be longer, yours weren't, but your other teeth were of a certain thickness and sharpness that was indicative of a predator; your molars had a pointedness, similar to a dog's. Supposedly, this would help in holding down on prey as it was eaten.

You felt his fingers graze overtop of them, and you salivated at the taste. When he removed his hands, you closed your mouth and swallowed.

"Look," you said, "I'm not all that hungry. Well, not that kind of hungry"

"Your body is ready for prey" He explained, "You haven't eaten in a couple weeks at least."

"I just had lunch a few hours ago."

"I mean, you haven't eaten prey. I've been with you almost every day this year, and although you might be able to hide it well, I know it's been a while."

You can still taste his flesh on your teeth, you lick your teeth and swallow again.

"Sorry," he said, sounding genuine, "you're probably going to feel pretty hungry in a minute. but if you don't want prey, I have regular food in my fridge - or I can uber something if you want-"

"Why would I be hungry?" You did feel a little hungry now. But not... not that hungry...

"I mean," He started sheepishly, "the belly rub; your stomach is awake now, and your small intestine is empty too."

"Okay-"

"- and the hands in your mouth thing; you've had a taste of prey now, so your body's going to start preparing to consume that."

hmm.

"And talking about eating - specifically talking about eating prey, it can kind of help with releasing those predator hormones that come out before you consume prey."

He continues, "not to mention, we were walking around the park all day, that amount of exercise will also, um, stimulate appetite."

"You've got this down to a science," you say.

He smiles, but tries to hide it, "yeah, sorry. Yeah, I guess I do. But it's not like that-"

"You said you have food?"

He shows you to the kitchen

You go into his fridge, and take out a stick of celery. you crunch on it aggressively, like you're biting apart someone's arm. It falls into your stomach sadly, and you feel an angry clench in your middle. It doesn't want that kind of food anymore.

You feel a little light-headed, a little dizzy, your gaze snaps back to this guy. He caused this, it's his fault.

he looks a little scared as you glare at him. Good. You feel a swell of pride or righteous justice, but then you feel sad. You like him, you don't want to scare him. You don't want to mess this up. but he's the one that messed it up

"What made you so sure that I wouldn't eat you?" You ask

He opens his mouth, but seems lost for words. He whispers "please don't...?"

There's a reason you don't often engage with your predatory side; it's very hard for you to control.

He didn't know that, but should this be a mistake that costs his life? Your stomach is growling now, you put a hand over it, to silence it or comfort it.

"Do you have prey?" You ask through gritted teeth, "Besides yourself?"

"Yes! Yes," He says, "I'll be right back." He rushes off, almost quick enough for you to want to chase after him. But you stay where you are, your hand now gripping the countertop because it's the only thing keeping you in place

three people enter the room, it's him and someone you know to be his friend. The third person you do not know

your predator brain immediately feels excitement. three entire prey! all for you to eat up. You could run to the front door and lock it, then you could chase down each one of them - it would be so much food.

You remind yourself that you aren't even capable of eating that much. You try to be more present in the moment, you realise that someone had asked you something, but you weren't paying attention.

One of the prey speaks, "Never mind, I'll see you later," they say to each other. Then one prey walks out of the front door. You feel disappointed - you should have locked it. Now there are only two of them. Still, you've never eaten two at once.

One of them approaches you. you feel adrenaline building as they get closer - it's not even running away.

But no, no, this is not the one you're supposed to eat. "Are you alright?" He asks.

You can't even begin to broach the question. "I'm hungry," you respond, which is true. More true than the words can express.

He nods. With more confidence than he should have, he takes your arm, and guides you into the living room.

Soon, the prey's hands are in your mouth. You're gulping them down ravenously, animalistically. You haven't consumed prey in a long while; it's good to be back.

"good, eat, eat up" he says gently

As you swallow, you feel a relief from the mania of hunger. Your anger dissipates too, somewhat.

Him encouraging you feels good; in the past, people have ran away in fear. But he stays by you, even helping push the prey down your throat when you get stuck.

It's a lot, eating prey. it's a big mission. You feel your unaccustomed stomach stretch many times past it's usual capacity, it's shocking to your mind, but it happens. You feel your whole being sigh and melt as the prey sinks into your tummy. Your observer isn't quick enough to help you as you fall to the ground, unused to the new weight

He kneels beside you, saying some kind of affirmation

Do you still want to eat him? You feel the exploding fullness of your stomach. You have to breathe shallowly, because the prey is squashed against your lungs. No, this is quite enough.

He helps you up onto the couch chair that you were seated on before all this started. Now the lunch you had earlier has been completely pushed aside by this new, finer meal.

Each breath you take is difficult. Inhaling causes your stomach to just feel even tighter. You give yourself a moment to try to adjust. You will, eventually.

He's watching you lying there, apprehension still fidgeting in his eyebrows. You reach out for his hand, and you put it on top of your stomach. He smooths his hand over your skin and you can't help but wheeze.

A belly massage feels much different now. Every bit of pressure causes electricity that courses through the entire shape of your stomach, and that flows into your whole body, flushing into your limbs, and sedating you.

It's relaxing, he knows what he's doing, you can tell, with the way he dances with the contours of your abdomen. You hear him sigh with relief as you relax, as he says, "there's a good pred, just relax and digest now."

Right, you forgot. You blink your eyes open and place your hands on each side of your middle. You do have a unique ability, which is that your stomach is happy to hold the prey inside it without digesting, for a few hours at least, until it gets restless, then it will start on it's own unless you specifically resist. It's kind of lucky for you, because although you aren't great at stopping yourself from consuming prey once you get it into your head that you should, you do at least have a window of opportunity where you can reverse the decision, which is not something everyone can say for themselves.

But anyway, since you want to get this prey digested sooner rather than later, you think you should get started now. You watch the gentle movements of the prey inside your stomach. You stroke back and forth gently, and then you sigh and give your stomach permission.

Nothing happens. You frown. You look up at the observer. He doesn't seem to be aware of the situation. He notices you looking at him and tilts his head.

"My stomach doesn't want to digest," you explain

"Oh! interesting," he says. "I guess you don't have to?"

"No," you say, "I want to."

He gives you a confused look. You sigh.

"I don't know, it's being stubborn. It might take a while."

"So your stomach can like, purposefully delay digesting?"

"Yeah, I mean, look, the prey isn't really moving around at all; if I was digesting them, there'd be a lot more wriggling - you know."

"yeah, you're right." he says inquisitively, "I've never heard of this happening before."

"It's fine, it'll happen eventually."

"Alright, you can just relax then, no need to digest," he pats your stomach supportively.

He goes back to massaging your stomach, which does feel good. Your eyelids become heavy, and you yawn. He asks you if you want to go to bed; he has a spare bedroom now, you can sleep in a proper bed if you need. No, you assure him, it's alright for now. You do ask him to dim the lights though, which he does.

He presses into your belly again, kneading into the solid form inside in a uniquely pleasing manner. You can't help but grin slightly. Your predator brain is chuffed. a good belly rub is something it enjoys very much. It likes to be fed, and it likes to be attended to. You scrunch your toes. You feel warm and fuzzy. He's treating you very well.

You put your attention on the specific place where his hand glides over your skin, you follow the movements and patterns, it's like listening to music. you feel his hand on your skin, the warmth, you feel the prey pressed against the taut walls of your stomach. you think about how he is in a way, really rubbing against the prey, and your skin is just the thing between. But the idea of him rubbing on the prey, to help encourage the stomach to digest - he's rubbing against the prey to help break it down, really. He's trying to get you to digest it. He's probably using techniques that he knows will be the most effective for digestion.

For some reason, this thought is what convinces your stomach. A glowing feeling of heat starts under your skin. You groan softly. You melt deeper into the chair. A few moments later and your prey starts to get agitated. you smile as you imagine your stomach acids being released with each desperate kick against the walls of your tummy. It's ironic really. You feel a funny tickle inside, and a bit pressure that turns into a careless belch.

You had a long road ahead of you, though, suddenly you were exhausted by the task ahead.

"Oh, good for you," your observer notes, "you've started digesting haven't you?"

You grunt an mhmm.

"I think I'll get you into bed if you don't mind, to get you more comfortable."

That sounds good now, so you agree. Carefully, he guides you to your feet. You lean on him heavily, but he does alright. You feel your belly sag against your legs, and it swags gently as you walk, gurgling as the liquids are now swished around. You get to the bed, and lie down like it's the first time you've ever known the comfort of a mattress.

The observer helps put the blankets over you. "I think you could use a nap," he noticed, "but I'll be here when you wake up."

He brings you a glass of water, and turns the lights off, leaving you with your prey, which you curl up around deviously, eager to break them down for nutrients.

A part of you wants to think about the implications of this situation, and what your relationship with the observer has now become. But your predator brain hushes you and urges you into sleep. Your stomach needs it's moment to digest. You'll deal with the rest later

#long ass story?? for my standards #tw vore #digestion #v/ore #implied digestion #vore fic #fatal vore #vore digestion #soft vore #vore writing #v.ore #hunger #hunger kink #cw hunger #tw hunger #pred pov #voreblr

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obsolescent · 4 months

Note

I saw the other anons ask sayin that Leon would want to settle down and you saying smth about h8k being protective with his daughter? What do you think would he do when a boy breaks his princess' heart? It would be so funny because he's dealt with lots of bad things and now boys are his no. 1 problems 😭

RAHHHHH BANGING MY FISTS ON THE TABLE such a complete 180° from the last anon and I’m so excited to write this up hehehe

Reader is gender neutral

Leon is a special government agent, so of course he has connections, and with those connections, he has a lot of information at his fingertips. He can easily look into someone’s history or records.

Which includes anyone who interacts with his daughter. Be that crushes or friends, he’ll ask her for their names and being Leon… he’ll do a little bit of digging. Just a small check of their backgrounds, scoping out their families. Nothing too wild.

It’s honestly a good things he does this, it helps him sleep easier at night knowing the ones that his daughter has grown close to are not there for nefarious reasons or to use her as leverage against him.

Now when it comes to relationships/her being heartbroken?

Leon would find her sobbing one day, her face red and splotchy. His heart would seize in his chest, and he’d rush over to her and fire off a hundred questions, holding her close. She’d tell him all that’s happened, confiding in you and Leon easily and without hesitation.

She had told her crush how she felt, and said crush not only turned her down but laughed at her confession. The rage would simmer in Leon’s body but he would keep his composure, knowing these are teenagers he’s dealing with and is a disheartening part of life.

He’d rub her back and let her cry into him, frustrated and apologizing that he cannot do more.

Then, an idea.

“Hey, bug, why don’t we go to the store, get some snacks, and we can all watch your favorite movie together, yeah?“ he suggests, pulling her away and wiping her tears from her face.

She gives a small smile and nods, sniffling. “Yeah, that’d be cool.” He nods, grinning down at her and helping her to her feet, before making his way through the house to explain what’s happened.

Your heart aches for your child, finding her and pulling her into an embrace. Once you’ve doted on her yourself, the three of you make the trip to the store, grabbing all sorts of confections.

Once home, you settle on the couch, your daughter between the two of you, and let her pick out her choice of media. She settles on a funny, light-hearted one.

About half way into the movie, you began to hear light snoring. Looking over to see your daughter’s head resting against Leon’s arm.

Your eyes meet and you grin at each other. You pick up the remote and pause the movie, and Leon slowly maneuvers her onto his lap before standing up and carrying her to her bedroom.

You follow behind, heart warming at the sight of them. She’ll never be too old to be his little girl. Never too old to have her scrapes and bruises kissed and bandaged.

After Leon tucks her into her bed and her door is shut, he pulls you into an embrace, kissing the top of your head.

“Let’s plan something fun for the weekend, I don’t have to be at work until Tuesday,” he whispers against your hair while stroking your back.

Enthusiastically you agree, wrapping your arms around his frame, excited for the plans ahead with the people you love most in your life.

#these are so?? easy for me to write up like oh god I’m so happy I’m getting into again 😭#o asks #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #o talking #o text #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x gn!reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy headcanons

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hopefull-mindset · 8 months

Text

A Much Needed Overview

I’ve been brought to a point of feeling the need to discuss the abuse depicted in Bungou Stray Dogs. This isn’t the brightest topic to speak about and I understand why people are reluctant to speak in detail about something as serious as this. It’s not easy, so I’ll be the brave face today because I feel disappointed about the lack of deep discussion beyond the popular topic of “The Abuse Cycle”.

I’m happy that it’s at least brought up amongst everyone as something that exists, I’m happy that people feel as though it’s something to talk about, but I don’t think most understand how to act about it. It’s never as cut and dry as how it’s depicted in most other pieces of media or how people speak about it in general. That is why I am thankful for its depiction here. Not saying that nobody speaks about it with clarity, but it’s not the majority, unfortunately.

I especially felt this was a good time to address this because of the reaction towards Asagiri’s thoughts on Dazai and Akutagawa’s relationship in the recent magazine interview. The outrage is not from nowhere, I was also taken aback at first, but to claim Asagiri “doesn’t even know his own story” is incredibly self-entitled considering the story isn’t done, nor are you the one writing this. If you read the story, no way is Asagiri justifying anything that happened. Please look at the question that is being asked, does it say “Do you think what Dazai did is morally right?” Of course, it isn’t.

Not to be rude but before you start questioning the writer himself if he’s read his own story, have you read it? Please keep in mind the fact this is only a magazine interview and doesn't reflect every nuance. Asagiri doesn't need to go “Oh yeah, this thing that’s bad is bad” every two seconds to explain himself. Asagiri’s writing decisions can be questionable and cannot be uncritiqued, but I’m going to have to defend him on this account.

I’m not sure if any warnings are needed concerning the subject matter considering most BSD fans know what I’m about to go over, but to be clear, please only read this when you’re in a well enough headspace for heavy matters such as this. I am not going to be talking lightly in any of this or dance around what’s happened between any of the characters, abuse is harder to talk about compared to other acts of violence that are objectively worse because it’s a more personal act that too many can find themselves in.

Finally, I do not want to speak about my own experiences online because I’ve only come to terms recently with it and they do not reflect everyone’s response to depictions of abuse in all media. Some things are very uncomfortable to admit about me that I haven’t told anyone, that no one would be able to take well even if they were my closest friend. This isn’t about me at all and there is no point in saying more about my reality, but I think my perspective might help people enlighten themselves on how truly complicated situations like this are.

What is Abuse?

Surprise, we need to go over this before any discussion about BSD happens because a lot misunderstand what abuse is. It's disheartening that the term has been so simplified that nobody knows what it means anymore. Don't substitute words for abuse or use abuse as a substitute for other terms. Abuse as a concept is quite hard to pin down with words and there are many ways to describe it, but by definition in the context that it’s directed to another person, abuse is:

To target and mistreat someone, causing them harm or distress in a repetitive manner

This by itself does not describe the grand scope of everything and probably might make you more confused, but it’s a great place to start and does describe what is directed to the victim. Many sources will use varied wording, but it’s the general knowledge that someone is being hurt to a fundamental level that makes it abuse.

Does the abuser need to intentionally hurt someone for it to be abused? Yes, but not in the way you think. Most abusers are not hurting their victims for the sake of just hurting them, that’s illogical, they’re doing it for something. Some examples include either for themselves in some way or what they think is for their victim’s “own benefit”. Even worse is when they genuinely believe it because they’ve also grown up in an environment that has that same mentality and reflects on themselves.

So yes, it’s intentional in that they’re doing it for a purpose. No matter their intention though, “selfless” or not, it’s still a selfish act in itself that they think that imposing their own will through harmful methods is what the victim needs. The abuse doesn’t need to be physically harming another for it to be abuse. As long as it’s harming you emotionally or otherwise and making you raise flags in your head, it’s abuse.

It sounds strange, but I'm saying it’s intentional because you’re still an intended target of their abuse whether they realize it themself or not. Abuse needs to repeat a form of distress in you to be abuse. For example, does one instance of physical violence against you count as abuse when it never happens again? Well, you need to think about the context. Usually, this would just be assault and that’s it, but is it left hanging in the air to happen again when you interact with them? Do you feel afraid for your well-being, even though it doesn’t happen again?

That’s still abuse, the psychological kind. Typically when abusers resort to physical means, it’s gonna happen again eventually. In this hypothetical instance, however, the point is that repeated distress does not mean repeated actions. It does not need to happen the same way for you to feel unsafe, it just needs to have power over you. Manipulation does not always equal abuse either. It’s a tactic used by abusers, but unless paired up with other actions, it doesn’t fit the criteria of abuse. Context matters when you examine what abuse is.

Here comes the tricky parts that are acknowledged less: When the abuser is someone you’ve relied on in your childhood, in a detrimental part of your life, or someone you care about that you put importance in, and it makes it hard to fully hate that person. What the abuser has done to the victim does not entirely reflect them as people, even if it’s still an important part of them that needs to be addressed.

Abusive people are not only defined by their awful actions, they’re not pure monsters like most love to pretend they are. It’s just easier to think that because accepting that they’re just a multifaceted human being hurts too much when you’re on the receiving end of their worse behavior. But what happens when you’re on the receiving end of both? You try to justify it the way the abuser is because you can’t accept that what’s happening is bad and not something everyone goes through. After all, they treat you decent enough sometimes.

Something so many people need to get into their heads already is that abusers can be victims and vice versa, but just because your abuser went through something themselves or is important to you, doesn’t mean you have to forgive them. Abuse is not forgivable just like that, you can rebuild a relationship beyond that if you’re able to, It’s not a “forgive-and-forget” thing.

Not everyone experiences and responds to abuse the same way, some hate their abusers fully, some can’t bring themselves to, and some don’t even know what to think, but there are so many who don’t feel one way that regarding all abusers as heartless monsters completely invalidates so many stories and their difficult experiences. I have a huge grudge against people like this who restrict abusive situations to just looking like one thing, this is why so many don’t even know that their situations are abusive.

Portrait of a Father

Chapter 39 reflects my points the most, and at the same time, it also turns out to be one of the most controversial chapters. It surprised me that it is, but maybe I shouldn’t be considering how most people on the internet act about abuse. It’s a lovely chapter to me personally and one of my favorites.

If you need a refresher, this is the chapter the Orphanage Director died in and leaves Atsushi in an emotional frenzy about what to think and believe. I know that the underlying message of this chapter is confusing to some, but it hit me in the face point blank on how this is about facing your abuser’s death without any personal conclusion with them.

Being sent on an investigation, Atsushi, after finding out the body was the Director, is stunned and scared because he knows nothing of the director other than his cruelty. He immediately assumes the worst and that he was coming after him again. Atsushi’s thoughts against him are entirely… on purpose in the director’s intentions because we find out that he has gone through so much violence and loss himself that he’s projecting his own will onto Atsushi and making sure he’d “survive in the real world”. So he became his first figure of hate and violence earlier in his life so he’d be “prepared for what comes next”.

I know so many take the backstory for the director as a way to justify what he did to Atsushi in the narrative, but it was just to put into context why he was so cruel. Abusers are never cruel for no reason, that never makes it right, but it’s reality. Atsushi was not the only one in the orphanage who was treated badly, he was singled out by the director most likely for an ability he couldn't control because the headmaster knew he’d get the most trouble for it, and unfortunately… he was right.

Akutagawa being his informant in this chapter makes perfect sense. He can see that what the director was for Atsushi is what Dazai is for him. No matter how terrible their actions were, it’s what kept them alive for so long. It’s not pleasant to confront, is it? Atsushi agrees because when he gets the information that the Director was going to congratulate him with the flowers he was going to buy by selling the gun he had on him, he freaks out. No way the guy he was raised so long to hate, the guy who put him through so much suffering, was going to congratulate him.

I know to some, Dazai’s talk with Atsushi sounded like he was justifying what happened because “it made him a good person in the end”, but that’s not what’s being said. This conclusion I’ve seen some people come to about this conversation confuses me. Dazai is just saying the obvious, you guys get all shocked and it weirds me out how easily it’s been glossed over that the reason Atsushi is so self-sacrificial and trying to do the good thing is because of the director. The reason he puts himself so much on the front lines is because he needs that worth in being good to live and prove the director wrong, he was raised to see that type of person is the most ideal person to live in this world.

After everything that’s been dumped onto him in such a short time, so much inner conflict of what to think of a dead man he no longer can have any personal closure with, he asks Dazai what face he should make, what he should think at this moment. Dazai tells him that they’re his emotions and he can think however he’d like, but commonly someone cries when their father dies. So he cries, because ultimately no matter his treatment, no matter the intent and its effects, it’s still the man who raised him. It’s flawed, but that’s what a father is stripped bare at its core definition and that won’t change no matter your feelings.

Now that I’m done summarizing this chapter and making sure you guys understood the point and how it spells out their relationship, I can finally talk freely about what was happening between them. When it comes to familial abuse, generational trauma is so prevalent it’s hard not to talk about. The director is quite reflective of so many parents who were raised to grow up too early in harsh environments, that they think they need to prepare their children for it too, even though it’s no longer needed.

You don’t need to like someone for them to be important to you, especially if it’s a parent in your life or someone close to that. That’s why Atsushi cries. He cries for the director, he cries for himself, he cries that it’s finally over, he cries for the kindness he could’ve gotten even if it wouldn’t have fixed anything, he cries for the father that never was, he cries because his father is dead. It’s perfectly normal to keep someone close in your heart that wasn’t perfect and to grieve their death.

Was the director successful in what he was aiming for? I want to say no, but he did. He succeeded in making Atsushi think of others in a good light and do good for them, making Atsushi resent him, and giving him the ability to keep going. Hell raised him right, but it was still hell. The problem is that his teachings were based on degrading Atsushi into being nothing but a life he should put aside in favor of others. Even if he continued hating the director like he wanted, he would still degrade himself for being a coward who didn’t hold himself to those standards. The result is not perfect because the director is not perfect, but in his position, this is a success.

The director for a while was his shadow of negative encouragement when he joined the agency, what kept him going in those moments, because he was what defined good, bad, and justice for him in his entire childhood. Even if he was dead, he’d still linger in his mind. I can’t parse out what to think about these hallucinations forming Akutagawa and Dazai to guide him later on, all it tells me is that he still can’t rely on or trust himself and he needs more development in his self-image issues.

I see why fans are confused, hell raising us right is a bizarre thing to say to a victim, so let me show you a perspective you're not seeing. Let's imagine you have an abusive mother who only wants you to be prepared for the things you're undoubtedly going to experience because of what you can't control. What she did does help you, but all that goes through your head is “Why couldn't she have done it differently without my own suffering?” The only thoughts that come rushing back when you think of those memories are the unnecessary pains. It takes a lot for a victim to acknowledge this on their own, they want to push back at the past so they don't have to see this plain reality.

Like anyone else that I’m going to bring up in this post, just because the abuse made them who they are or affected who they became, even when it keeps us going through life and benefits us in some way, does not make the abuse justified. Abuse is still abuse, I addressed this already and I hope not to address this again. I needed to detail an explanation because it’s quite easy to hate a man you know nothing about and has been painted in nothing but a bad light. The anger against the director is undebatable because abuse is not debatable, but to pretend the cruelty was nothing but for cruelty’s sake is mischaracterizing both him and Atsushi.

You can’t pick and choose what’s been told to you in the text just because you don’t like a character and lack the maturity for it. It gets quite hard to do that sort of thing when it’s a character you‘ve grown to care about, it’s no wonder Dazai is divided between so many. Speaking of Dazai, his involvement in this makes as much sense as Akutagawa’s. He’s currently in a mentor position for Atsushi, no matter what Akutagawa says, and shows interest in his development. So of course he’s going to purposely stick his head into something that would affect Atsushi greatly. Both Akutagawa and Dazai are viewing this through their lenses as people who grew up in the darkness of society, and it’s not that Dazai thinks what happened to him wasn’t terrible, you should have eyes to read the panels provided, but he’s generally unfazed and able to sound neutral because he’s used to that cruelty.

The Port Mafia’s Environment

(Aka: is it really “all Mori’s fault” or is it just the product of being literally in The Mafia™?)

I’ll go over the “Cycle of Abuse” in a second, but please keep in mind that you can’t just blame everything on Mori. Just like the Director, it’s so easy to pin the guy who’s just been the worst for every problem there, but it decimates the other characters involved as well and makes what they’ve gone through go flat because you’re restricting it to a misinformed presumption.

To make a bold statement, I need you to completely throw away your idea of what the abuse cycle is. The Mori to Kyouka pipeline being the singular “Abuse Cycle”? Garbage, needs to go away too. I've seen many fans use the term “Cycle of Abuse” too carelessly, and while from afar the way they're using it is not technically wrong, they have the wrong thought process behind it.

The Cycle of Abuse is simply the patterns of what keeps us in an abusive dynamic and negative mental state, either with an individual or environment, and makes it incredibly hard for anyone to leave. It’s not the actions you take that make it the Cycle of Abuse, and it's not just one straight line of people going through similar motions. You don’t have to be someone’s abuser to be the one who keeps them there, if you feed into it you’re still a problem. Even if you don't actively add to it yourself, just staying there as a bystander and not trying to do anything to change it or speak up for the victim when you clearly could also still make you responsible. Just with your presence, it validates what they've gone through as normal.

If you need more of an explanation, two opposite examples include Higuchi & Akutagawa and Beast Kyouka & Atsushi. Higuchi is a traditional example in that she stays in the mafia because of her relationship with Akutagawa, and stays by his side for reasons unknown. What we do know is that she’s incredibly indebted to him enough to care for him to an extreme extent, but their relationship is abusive all the same. Beast Atsushi and Kyouka sounds strange for me to bring up, but this is an example of a non-abusive person contributing to the Cycle of Abuse. Instead of taking her out of an abusive situation, he brings her back in.

Many characters are a part of this main narrative of abuse in BSD, so it's not inaccurate to say Mori, Dazai, Akutagawa, and Kyouka are a part of it as well using this definition as all of them are the reason or contributed to why someone was stuck in a negative, abusive situation or the victim themselves. I’m guessing none of you are genuinely referring to this though and are referring to intergenerational abuse, a repeating cycle of younger generations taking after their abusers when they're older, which is a completely different phenomenon. Both are referred to as cycles and have many commonalities, but it’s not the same. Not to sound like a total dick, but this barely even applies to them.

Not because the concept is based on familial relationships, it can happen with older figures in your life too, but because our oh-so-famous Abuse Cycle gang does not have that commonality to make that claim. They have narrative parallels, but that’s pretty much it. I will save what I have to say in their sections, but Mori and Akutagawa did not abuse Dazai and Kyouka respectively for this type of claim to have any legitimacy. Kyouka certainly broke a cycle, but not that kind since that would need her to continue it in the first place and then prevent her own experiences from even affecting the next child.

What do all Mori, Dazai, Akutagawa, and Kyouka actually have in common? They are/were in the mafia, using their natural talents of cruelty for the underworld.

The Port Mafia resembles something of an abusive household or community that sees so much of what’s done to others there as normal, and constantly compares it to how it was with their old boss and thinks, “At least it wasn’t as bad as that.” It’s quite like the Orphanage Director’s thinking but on a larger scale. Does that make everyone in the Port Mafia abused? Nope, unlike most abusive communities, the Port Mafia is quite literally the mafia. Everyone is there for different reasons, at different ages, and different experiences. Everyone is taken advantage of in these situations, no matter the circumstances, but it doesn’t make them abused automatically.

So it’s hard to have a stance on anything about them being abusive other than the mentor situations in the Port Mafia don’t see abuse as abuse and just another way to teach their subordinates to survive in their world if they deem it necessary. Was Chuuya abused, either by Mori or Kouyou then? I’m going to have to say I can’t tell you that. We don’t have enough information on either of his dynamics with them to say that they’ve directly had any repetitive behaviors of direct harm against him specifically, and there's no reason for them to do so either. I’m not going to use the argument that “Chuuya doesn’t hate or fear them, so that must mean he wasn’t” because again, that type of response does not reflect so many situations.

Chuuya was still harmed by being in the Port Mafia as a teenager because nobody should have been surrounded by this much cruelty at that age. It doesn’t matter if he shows visible distress or not about the Port Mafia, he was just desensitized to it since his sheep days. So was he an abuse victim under the idea that being a child in the Port Mafia is abuse? That depends on who we’re speaking of, but in Chuuya’s situation, I'm going to have to say no as he's already internalized their mindset from his own experiences separate from the mafia. Keep in mind that it also still holds true that you can find family in situations like this, it’s not mutually exclusive. Some just find more comfort in what they’re used to than what would be better for them. Kyouka is a better example of someone being a victim of an abusive community.

A false claim I've seen made many times are the ones where they have it as if Mori is the mafia itself or that he made the mafia what it was. It shouldn’t be too surprising, but it’s the opposite. Mori already held flawed, heartless, calculative methods when in situations he thought required them. We’ve seen him as a soldier and an underground doctor, but we know nothing else about him outside of his cruelty, just like the headmaster. What he does is never for what he thinks is for his benefit, but for the sake of something larger. Whether it’s for the city, the country, or eventually, the Port Mafia.

The mafia is the first time he’s been put into a position of absolute leadership and is not yet accustomed to that at the beginning of Dazai, Chuuya, Age Fifteen. He’s able to quickly fit the mold of a mafia boss, but there’s that bit of honesty that peaks through in this light novel in the first and last sections that’s ignored too quickly. First Mori complains about nothing going immediately right, questions himself about Dazai, and becomes genuinely stressed if it was the right decision to involve him, then confesses that he sees himself in Dazai to him (and him and Fukuzawa in Soukoku in private), and finally gives his honest take of leadership to Chuuya.

I already go over Mori as a character in one of my other posts and will speak more of him later on, so I don’t want to reiterate the same points, but here we have proof he has (albeit poor) humanity. He did not become the Port Mafia boss for his own selfish gain of power if you’ve forgotten, but because Natsume introduced him to becoming part of the Tripartite Framework to protect the city he loves, it’s where he’d excel best in this plan. The Port Mafia was already a shithole, Mori just made it livable again by becoming what an organized crime group needs.

It’s what makes the dynamic between Kouyou and him so intriguing because you have an abuse victim who has embraced the environment she was forced back into, but won’t let go of someone who’s proven to be more of a decent leader than her tormentor and can be relied on. For victims who couldn’t get help or realize they needed help, the easier path is to accept this is your life through some justification. While I said the Port Mafia resembles an abusive community, communities as such aren’t purely terrible and that’s what keeps them justifying it in their head. The family you have for yourself, whether it's a made one or the one you're born with, is what sticks for you.

Like it or not, Mori isn’t stupid. He takes risky gambles that backfire on him sometimes, but he’s good at his job. He’s brutal enough to prove his own against the people who didn’t think he should’ve been boss and outsiders who want to go against the Port Mafia, but he’s considerate enough towards his people and shows enough competency to be perfect for the job. He’s not a great human being, but what did you expect? He no longer had any room to express that humanity, he never had; there was no benefit from being a good person in his line of work.

The Heartless Cur

That looked like a great segue to talk about Dazai and Mori’s dynamic, but it’d benefit to go over Akutagawa first. For those who do acknowledge it as an abusive situation, Thank you for at least taking that step. Numerous don’t and it worries me at the state of what’s considered abuse vs. training. It may be both at times but don't excuse one for the other. Training needs formal consent and communication at some point during a session. Akutagawa is learning, but it’s the same as getting yelled at as a child for not doing your homework right, when again, you’re still just learning.

It might’ve been easier to see for those who do acknowledge it because of the visible physical abuse that happens, but let's not undermine the psychological abuse happening as well. Dazai has messed with his psyche on an abhorrent level through his degrading and threats, making him reliant to hear a single word of acknowledgment from his mouth. What happened to Akutagawa is beyond the mafia’s environment.

Akutagawa does not hate or want Dazai dead for what he’s done to him, but he does hold anger at the seeming abandonment he’s been put through… and at himself as well. Anger that he couldn't get to what Dazai wanted him to be before he suddenly left. So he proves himself by climbing the ranks and becoming someone feared. Spectacles of violence not because he enjoys the feeling of other’s suffering or the power over them, but to show Dazai that see? He's still worth looking at!

He stays in the mafia because he’s found a place there. Even if he could, there was no point in leaving the mafia after he disappeared because what would be left for him if he did? He will always be an unchangeable, horrific hound of the dark and there's no changing that in his mind. From an inference of his actions in the dungeon when they finally reunite one-on-one, he wanted to believe that he was above Dazai after all those years, but Dazai doesn't act impressed or scared or anything. After all that effort, he gets nothing but ridicule and mockery like he's back to being that little kid with an oversized coat too big for his body.

Worse is that he gets told that some new kid Dazai picked up, who didn't train to the extent he did to refine his abilities, is better than him somehow. He gets riled up and at first, takes out on Dazai, but all those threats about killing him and how he went against the mafia were empty. Even now he can't bring himself to hate Dazai, he needs his mentor to acknowledge him no matter what side he's on. He never let go of Dazai, his coat is proof enough of that. So he takes it out on the party that isn't responsible and is convinced he needs to overcome Atsushi to prove something to Dazai.

He doesn't hate Atsushi, not genuinely. He does the same when he’s told he’ll never compare to Odasaku, someone who objectively should’ve been the weakest member due to his status. He gets angry at Dazai’s words, gets angry at himself, then takes it out on the person mentioned, rinse and repeat. I’m not sure if I’m the only one to notice, but he genuinely believed that the meaningful life Dazai gave him laid in the mafia and being useful to its cause. He has no reason to be as loyal to the mafia if he didn't think this.

Dazai’s acknowledgment means more than just appreciation for his skills and strength, it means his life meant something by striving for being the strongest. It’s not about the acknowledgment at all. Whenever he critiques and shames Atsushi for how he lives his life, it just feels like he’s unknowingly shaming himself through him without having to acknowledge his wrongs. It makes me curious about how much the acknowledgment itself even matters to him and the validation it gives him to strive for this is an excuse to keep living so what he’s doing in the mafia even matters in the end. What counts as acknowledgment to him?

He's convinced his faults are what made Dazai turn away, he just doesn’t know how to do anything to fix it and can't fix it this late into the game. What does Dazai want from him other than being stronger? When Dazai directly asks him to do something important involving Atsushi, he’s confused. He has no reason to trust him to do these missions. He’ll take the chance to prove himself once and for all, but to be included means he's being acknowledged, so what gives? The number of times he visibly self-reflects can be counted on one hand because as soon as it shows, he goes back to justify his violence and ignores his faults.

As someone whose favorite character is Akutagawa, I’m disgusted that all people can take away from him is “Akutagawa is an obsessive fanboy that deserves no sympathy because of what he did to Kyouka” or “Akutagawa is a poor, miserable man that didn’t deserve what Dazai made him into and should be absolved of responsibility because it’s all Dazai’s fault”. Both are very shallow and very harmful to perpetrate as they continue the idea that a person can only be the abused or abuser. He's both and it's okay to admit that.

Quickly let’s clear up this: He is not the way he is because of Dazai.

What Dazai IS responsible for:

Akutagawa’s need for his constant approval and recognition

Akutagawa learning to hone his ability

Akutagawa’s toxic views of being useful

The reason Akutagawa’s still alive

The reason Akutagawa is the Mafia’s dog

What Dazai is NOT responsible for:

Everything else

Akutagawa’s lean toward violence, his one-track stubborn mindset, and his lone-wolf attitude are not a product of Dazai’s treatment, he’s always been that way because of his time in the slums. He got beaten down by adults frightened of his empty gaze, had to learn to protect himself and find something to eat to survive, helped take care of his sister Gin and his friends by himself, and everyone constantly dying around him. That’s the real reason his personality is like that. He is a victim of his circumstances in a society that deemed him worthless, so he also thinks of his life as worthless. That’s why Dazai means so much to him.

Dazai did not trick him into joining the mafia, Dazai expressed what he was going to go through was worse than what happened in the slums and gave Akutagawa an out that he could live a normal life with enough money, but he knew Akutagawa would not refuse because he still needed meaning in living, just like him. Gaining enough money to get by so he and his sister could get out of the slums would do nothing for him, he already felt that his life was worthless. He has no problem throwing it away at any time, he was gonna die young regardless because of his lung disease. It has manipulative undertones, but that's how Dazai usually is with even the people he cares about.

Akutagawa knows too well that a person needs a sign, someone to tell them it’s okay to keep going, and so does Dazai. Part of Dazai’s goal is to save Akutagawa from dying and give him a reason to live like he promised that day because he sees the potential that could come from his development. I don't want to sound like a dick again, but you’d have to be dense to think Akutagawa would still be dead by the end of this arc. He isn’t sending him off to his death, Dazai doesn’t know everything.

Even if he knew Akutagawa might die there, it's better than both Atsushi and Akutagawa dying at that moment. If Akutagawa didn’t want to die for him, he wouldn’t have, he chose to save Atsushi’s life. This is why I have to defend Asagiri. Let’s reread the interview together, to make it get across already.

(Twt link)

Q: Just like how Akutagawa and Atsushi's relationship has changed, I could feel the relationship between Dazai and Akutagawa moving forward too. Is it like what Akutagawa has said in Episode 3 of Season 5, that every order he has received from Dazai so far has been "a trial", "a part of a meaningfull life"?

First, the question being asked. They’re asking Asagiri about their relationship in the present, and how it’s developed. Akutagawa is no longer thinking he was abandoned by Dazai for a new, better student like he was made him believe, that was just to rile him up and interact with Atsushi more. Instead, he realizes that he’s not supposed to work against Atsushi, he’s supposed to work with him. How he decides to go about that battle with Fukuchi and whether or not he works with Atsushi like a partner is his trial. If this was Akutagawa before he met Atsushi, he would’ve no doubt escaped or might’ve thought defeating Fukuchi would prove himself to Dazai. He's not an obstacle to his meaningful life, his quest for a meaningful life lies with Atsushi.

Asagiri responds with:

Asagiri: Needless to say, Dazai is the most qualified person in this world to help Akutagawa grow. Dazai has a vision for Akutagawa's development, and he completely understands what it takes to achieve it. We, as obsevers, can only see bits and pieces of that vision. But I can at least say that Dazai's training plan has never been wrong.

Many find this answer questionable, I was stunned reading it myself. Asagiri is not wrong at all here though, Dazai is objectively the only person in this series who can find a way to help him. Atsushi is the endpoint, but Dazai has been guiding him to this point. Dazai himself said that he was planning to team them up the moment he met Atsushi, he was still thinking of him even after all these years. There are much scarier implications than thinking that Asagiri was wrong. It's that Dazai was doing everything intentionally to get Akutagawa’s mindset where it was. He didn't mess up with Akutagawa, he just couldn't personally teach him the skills he needed and chose a different route until he found something that could.

Asagiri is not saying the abuse was morally justified, but the intention behind it was not wrong in an objective stance. Dazai would know what to do the most because of his understanding of wanting to find meaning in living. Teenage Dazai couldn’t have achieved much by himself, even if he could understand since he also could not find meaning in life. That’s why he made him hang on to his every breath of validation so he would keep his faith in Dazai long enough for him to find a solution to this dilemma. The moment in life when he found Akutagawa was not ideal and he still did what he thought he had to do for him to survive in the mafia. Without his ability, he's incredibly weak and needs to be able to defend himself. A violent person could not have made another violent person unlearn their violence.

You could say he just wanted a weapon, but that’s not it, not even close. Many of you are stuck on the part that it was a suicidal teenager that picked Akutagawa up from the slums and that no way someone like that could teach another suicidal teenager anything, so it’s “comical that Asagiri thinks as though he’s the most qualified”. You’re not wrong in some sense, but this is still incredibly intelligent, “Black Wrath of the Port Mafia”, Osamu Dazai, and not just some suicidal teenager.

He’s also no longer a teenager. Right now we’re talking of Dazai in the present who’s grown and no longer needs to be how he was in the mafia, he has Atsushi now, someone who can help Akutagawa see what’s wrong in his outlook. The only thing he could’ve done back then was to shelter Akutagawa so he wouldn’t kill himself. It's horrible, but Dazai validating where he is now would do no good for either of them and fix nothing.

Q: What kind of person is Dazai to Akutagawa?

Asagiri: Actually, at the time of "The Dark Era", Dazai already spoke very highly of Akutagawa, as someone who would "become the Mafia's strongest skill user in the not-so-distant future". He just doesn't say that in front of Akutagawa himself. The reason he doesn't say it is that Dazai has to be "the presence that continues to give meaning to life" to Akutagawa. So far, that trial has been completely successful.

None of what Asagiri brings up is new information. He doesn’t say it in front of Akutagawa not to spite him, but if he gives these praises out too freely, he loses his distant, almost god-like presence in Akutagawa and will go back to being just a lone wolf with no exceptions that will carelessly get himself killed. Without any goal, he’s lost. Just like Atsushi and the headmaster and how Atsushi hinges on proving he can do a good thing to motivate his life, Akutagawa similarly hinges on the fact that if he fails, he won’t get Dazai’s approval.

However, his death was not fully about Dazai’s approval in the way he's been preaching. In chapter 87, he mentions Dazai’s approval like always, and when they fail the first time even after trusting and working with each other as Shin Soukoku should, It hits him. What came into his head I cannot parse out at the moment, but his actions speak so much louder than any explanation we could've gotten. Of course, he's helping Atsushi escape, but what does he do for that? He used his ability on his shirt, and not just on the coat like he typically does.

It doesn't seem like a big deal at first, he could've always done that, but when was the last time he used it on something that wasn't the coat Dazai gave him? The coat means many things. His new beginning, his path in being Dazai’s student and successor (as that was also Mori’s coat), but it also conveys Dazai’s will that keeps him alive and that he's only strong with his coat. Without it, he's defenseless, so he clings to this coat the exact way he clings to those orders. It's his encouragement to keep going when Dazai isn't there. This overwhelming, suffocating responsibility, an oversized coat, is a lot to give to a kid but it's comfortable and he’ll grow into it eventually.

It was already a huge step in his development that he gave Atsushi his coat, but to use his ability not on his coat means he's making an effort to overcome his fixation and do an action unrelated to Dazai for the sake of Atsushi’s life. His whole life after the slums, everything he's ever done was with Dazai in mind. Him saving Atsushi’s life was not because he was doing what Dazai wanted him to do, that he'd finally get approval for doing It, and in turn give his life meaning before he died. When he saved Atsushi, it would give his life meaning in just that. He shouldn't let himself be defined by the past the way he criticizes Atsushi for, so he’s going to choose his meaning. I wouldn't say he's moved past Dazai yet, but he's getting there.

Dazai and Akutagawa’s relationship is not healthy in the slightest, and Dazai’s crueler actions and words against him are not right, but they’re still growing and not stagnant characters. Atsushi and Akutagawa learn from each other and that's what's pushing them to change. Nobody will pretend those past means weren’t just abuse, they were, but there's so much more to it. Like I asked with the director, was he successful? Well from what I’ve said, yes it so far has gone the way Dazai hoped for in the best-case scenario.

In the main universe at least, this is one of the better ways it could’ve gone. Beast is a different story. Teenage Dazai of the main universe was unsure of Akutagawa’s future and did only what he could’ve done at that time, but Beast Dazai does have that knowledge and he decided that it would be best for Akutagawa to not be in the mafia, instead bringing in Atsushi. It wouldn’t have been good to let him pursue his violent tendencies more than necessary in the mafia in this universe when he knew there was a better option, especially with someone like Oda, who would take the time to care for him properly.

Even if he didn’t bring him in, he still gave him the motivation to keep living for something. The prologue of Beast is a mirror to The Heartless Cur, with instead it’s a distant relationship of hate Akutagawa has for him for taking his sister. For those who argue that since Beast exists, that means Asagiri was somehow “wrong about Dazai”, but it’s still Dazai from the beginning that’s the source of this motivation. Dazai, who's still guiding him. If we’re gonna be honest, Dazai was putting their development/capabilities in speed run mode with the logic and future information he had access to prepare them for a timeline he won’t be alive for. There are many factors for what he did in Besst, but that’s not the conversation.

What does he get from helping him? Who knows, Asagiri wasn’t being cheeky when he said we only see bits and pieces of his vision. We barely have any clue what’s going through that man’s head, so don’t act like you do. He wasn’t always planning for the next Soukoku. Maybe it was a thought that came up sometimes, but he’s only met Atsushi recently. What about Akutagawa was so different from any other powerful ability-wielding orphan? Well, we’re not gonna know any time soon.

The point is that Dazai is thinking about their future, even if the abuse or manipulation makes that hard to see. Please do remember that abuse is still selfish no matter the intention, but non-selfish intentions make it all the more complicated to process. Their relationship is not misunderstood by Asagiri himself, it’s just clear to me most don’t want to face the unpleasant truth that there is more to their dynamic. When I first realized what was going on, I couldn’t help but get unnerved and awkward when someone would ask me about these two. These are both characters in the spotlight that you’re supposed to care about, but what happened between them is rotten.

You’re not supposed to pretend it didn’t happen because Dazai still contributed to who he is and it shows whenever it’s on screen. Abuse doesn’t make us stronger, don’t make it as if that’s a message that Asagiri is spreading. What happened to him motivated his development, but with Atsushi, that’s the opposite. Their circumstances are different and victims process what's happened to them in various ways. Depicting it in a form less common than usual doesn't mean the author thinks in the same way the victim does, it's just nuance at work.

I did not add Akutagawa’s attitude towards his subordinates and newer members as Dazai’s responsibility because Dazai is not the one controlling his hands when he hits Higuchi. Dazai’s mentoring contributed to his toxic views of being useful, but it’s only Akutagawa’s responsibility once he raises his hand. Instead of thinking of this in the context of the most typical abusive situation you can think of, how about this:

Your parent was raised in an abusive household, but they think they came out of it just fine and that there was nothing wrong with how they were treated. They treat you almost the same way, and all you can take away from that when you find out is, “At least it’s not as bad as it could’ve been”. You still hold anger at the standards they’re forcing you to reach, but if that’s what it takes to get that approval, then you’ll keep going anyway. Even if you get yelled at and you know you shouldn’t be treated like this, it’ll feel nice when you finally get on their good graces, right?

Then you get a new sibling, and all of that comes crumbling down. They don’t treat your sibling anywhere near the same when you were that age. Years go by and you get angrier and angrier. Why is it only you that was put to that standard? Even worse is that they treat you differently now too. You finally got to those standards, but now what is it worth? They’re so much nicer now and you want to curse them out for only changing now. Why couldn’t have had that parent from the beginning? It’s so unfair, but you can’t take it out on them because you still need them, they mean so much to you. As angry as you were, they were doing it because they cared about you in their way, you think. It was what your grandparents did to them at least. So you start treating your sibling similarly to how you were treated because you can’t take it that they didn’t experience that hardship without destroying yourself first.

Question: Are you right in what you did? Was the parent responsible for what you did to your sibling?

Nobody in their right mind would say yes to that first question. It makes sense why it happened, but continuing abuse will never be the correct answer. You’re doing the same thing your parent did. The second question needs more exposition to answer, however. How responsible is responsible?

In the end, even if it was the parent who influenced it, you’re only responsible for what you’ve done on your own accord. The parent did not tell you to take it out on your sibling, you decided that yourself. The parent is still responsible for what they’ve done to you, never get that wrong, but if you say that your guilt is absolved because it’s all their fault, you sound no different from any other abuser in denial. Are you saying now that the parent is also absolved from guilt because it’s all their parent’s fault too? Listen to yourself, You hurt someone but it’s not your fault, but the person who hurt you is also somehow not at fault? If someone came up to you and said that, you’d be fed up.

For those who do the same thing with Mori, rethink what you’re saying. Is it that painful to admit your favorite characters are at fault and that they’re changing? This comparison isn’t perfect and ignores some key factors: Dazai isn’t Akutagawa’s or Atsushi’s father and is not much older than them, the Port Mafia is a violent workplace environment and requires you to be able to navigate it a certain way, and all three of them at adults in present time. I used this comparison to be more real to earth and something a larger audience could process themselves to truly get that the emotions here are not straightforward even in a realistic situation.

Re: Portrait of a Father

Just like the prologue, in chapter 3 of the Beast light novel, Portrait of a Father is mirrored and retold in brutal upset that does not hold the hopeful bittersweetness at the end of it unlike its original. Before the present day, against all orders Dazai gave him, Atsushi attacked the orphanage on the day of his birthday. On his birthday, he would be reborn from the ashes of his past being burnt away, and kill the director inside to release himself from the fear of those memories.

It’s what he says at least.

Playing out, the director was expecting him. There might have only been one person in his mind who would’ve attacked a rundown orphanage on this scale. It frightens Atsushi after all that planning and fear of losing to the director, he could still see through him, but confusion takes hold when he’s told that he was late for his graduation.

Graduation? Atsushi is in fight or flight mode, why is he approaching him with this box? He can’t imagine it being anything other than a weapon, nothing else would make sense for this cruel monster. The director won’t give him any straight answer, just repeating words he’s heard over and over growing up here. He uses his tiger hearing to glean what could be inside.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

There’s the proof, it had to be a bomb. He needs to protect himself before anything happens or he’ll die. He’s scared, he can’t move, but he has to fight. The director opens his arms for the embrace of his child… and death, plummeted into a bloody mess on the floor. Only out of the corner of his eye, only when Atsushi stopped, he saw what was in the box. It was a watch, brand new and high-end. Happy Birthday was what was written on a sheet of paper next to it.

His last words, whispered into his ear, were words of encouragement: “Yes… just like that.”

I was not kidding when I said this was brutal. Just like in the main universe, Atsushi learns why he did what he did and can’t place any of his feelings, but overwhelmingly guilt crushes him to keep protecting people with his life rather than just fear because he killed him. He finds out much earlier about what happened with Shibusawa, and how the director protected his identity as the tiger.

The director’s intentions are draining when you let your mind wander. As we’ve established, the headmaster as a figure of hate for Atsushi is intentional on his part. He doesn’t explain anything on purpose here to probe him into killing him. He bought that watch for Atsushi as a congratulations for growing up and becoming a new independent individual.

In the split minute before Atsushi took the first swing, he said his usual, “Those who fail to protect others do not deserve to live.” I have to question now if he was so willing to die there, even encouraging him to kill him, then has it been this whole time he still can’t live with himself for what happened to his friends… or is it because he couldn’t protect Atsushi anymore? Maybe I’m overthinking it and it was just that the headmaster thought Atsushi needed to kill him to remove an obstacle in his growth as an individual, to be a necessary sacrifice for his benefit.

It's too flawed though. The director will never leave him, not after all that he's engraved into Atsushi. The watch has become not a symbol of a person who's found himself, but a child that's latched himself onto his father's cold corpse that won't ever respond, but that child would do anything to have him wake up and say "Good job, Atsushi". The director also has a clock, but can he call himself a strong individual when he hasn't let go of the past either?

Time stopped for Beast Atsushi when he picked up that watch. If he had just followed orders, none of this would’ve happened. If he isn’t his father’s child, if he doesn’t uphold his last wish, then who is he? When he’s no longer in the mafia and has time for himself to think, he wanders.

He failed in becoming someone he could be proud of, he deserved to die for that but doesn't want to be dead… because It wasn't truly about the Director, just like how it wasn't truly about Dazai’s acknowledgment or saving his sister for Akutagawa. At first, that was the motivation, it's the reasoning they keep going with, but in the end, it was to save their own life and give it purpose to validate why they're still around. If they can die like this, then it's all the same. If they have their own life in someone else’s hands, then they no longer have to be responsible for their own heavy-hearted weight.

Beast Atsushi is given neither and is taken of his reasoning, but he keeps going. Aimlessly.

Luckily, it’s not where his story ends.

He wakes up in his old orphanage, and it’s no longer the dreary place it was when he was younger. Kids laughing outside, no chains on the walls or bars blocking off the windows, and the new Orphanage Director greets him. He tells him that he will go back to being a student of the orphanage until he can become independent again, under one of Dazai’s last requests before he died.

Still, there’s one thing he needs to do. The new director takes out the watch and tells him to break it. Atsushi is distraught by this notion, but he won’t let Atsushi leave if he doesn’t. The new director has good reason, there is no point in becoming someone the past director was proud of and this is what’s holding him back. Atsushi, eventually, tells him he will not break the watch. He can’t move on just yet and this watch is still proof he’s himself, yet…

He’ll keep going and move forward, just like Akutagawa told him after he spared his life. The new director finds those words to be enough, saying he can’t leave until he finds something else to define himself with, but he can keep living here as his son. He went there to burn away his past and came out of it not able to let go of the past, but now he can redo and process it healthily with someone willing to hold him like a father should.

The Man Who Raised Dazai

Everyone who’s read Beast has questioned it: Why did Dazai in his right mind have Mori take care of an orphanage? Why did he save his life? Better yet, why is he so nice?! I have come up with some speculation on why Dazai would.

“Beast Dazai recognized this potential of change either from the multitude of universes he was able to witness or recognized it in his own considering canonverse Dazai never does anything against Mori (even if he visibly dislikes him).”

“Possibility is one thing, the why is another. It was either that he saw potential and good that could come out of this in the long run, Mori’s intelligence and expertise still proves usefulness, less dangerous for Oda in the long run if he let Mori stay there instead of the Mafia, or all three.”

(Didn’t feel like rephrase them)

We can’t know anything for sure about his decision, but I do know Mori is the type of character to sacrifice his feelings for what he thinks would logically benefit the sum, and there’s no better way to release yourself from that too-calculative responsibility than to remove yourself from it and to be in a place where you’re allowed to care for others and express yourself when there is no greater purpose than to just grow.

What happened with Yosano is undoubtedly wrong, but Mori had put away any sympathy in those situations because he needed her to do what he brought her in for. I was confused by his declaration that violence should never be used to educate children when I read it, especially out of his mouth, but now I understand. He would know with certainty that it’s not the right way to educate children, particularly because this is a Mori that hasn’t been in the dark for these past years and has grown to care for these children at the orphanage without any greater intention for them.

He’s not like the Old Director because he has no reason to think these kids would end up the way he did. They’re just kids that need someone to raise them with kindness, kindness will be what gets them through life as functional adults. Abuse has too many drawbacks to be called an optimal solution here. Is it surprising that all it took to change Mori was the kindness and salvation Dazai offered to him when he took over? Can you believe it was that simple to treat someone like a human being instead of a figure of hate?

What sticks out to me like a sore thumb is that when he’s introduced in Beast, he’s referred to as the man who raised Dazai. He is, regardless of what you think, the closest thing Dazai has to a father figure. In regards to how the fanbase speaks of their relationship, it’s hard to think that he cared about Dazai, but he did and the extent of how bad it got between them is grossly exaggerated.

As many comparisons Dazai gets with Yosano, their relationship with Mori is very different. Unlike Yosano, he did not need to be forced to do anything with psychological abuse and he did not need to be torn down to do what Mori asked him to. We don’t know what happened to him to become like this, but it wasn’t because of Mori. Yosano had light in her and a motivation to do the right thing, but Dazai didn’t. Dazai is no stranger to any violence or using violence himself even before Mori if he's this desensitized.

It’s useful that Dazai is like that when he meets him, up until it isn’t. He’s moody and actively looking to die. Mori can’t predict him that easily and Dazai can see right through him. There’s another huge difference between them though: Mori sees himself in Dazai. We don’t have enough insight in his head to make conclusive statements, but I think this is why he cared for Dazai. It’s not because he saw a child struggling that he cared, but grew some fondness because he saw a little mini-him. When he drove Dazai out of the Port Mafia, he expected him to come back and take back his vacant seat.

Eventually, Dazai will come back and realize that petty anger about someone dying is illogical in somewhere like the mafia. But because of him not being able to see through Dazai and seeing himself in him, he also expected him to eventually usurp his seat if he stayed any longer. That is why he had invited Mimic at the time he did and manipulated the situation so Oda, someone he knew Dazai cared for, would go and take care of the situation flawlessly. He’d be sacrificed and Mori could get something out of it, a Skilled Business Permit. A perfect plan… in theory, but Mori was wrong and miscalculated on many levels because of how many assumptions he made about Dazai.

First, he wouldn’t have known that it was Oda who held the words that would convince him to leave the mafia and go into the world of light. Dazai will never come back to his own volition. Second, as those panels quite literally tell you, Dazai was never planning on killing him. He saw his place in the mafia and saw that he was needed there. When Mori finally realizes his mistake with Dazai 4 years later during the Guild Arc, he can’t go back. His plan was still perfectly sound and he still got what he wanted out of it. He shouldn’t regret it, but…

Now that’s been paved out, where does wanting to save Dazai fit into this? If I had to assume, it’s the same reason he didn’t shoot Dazai for leaving his office during Dark Era. He cared about that boy, for 4 whole years he left him and his seat alone when the logical thing he should be doing was replacing him, but as much as he might’ve cared, he needed to put the mafia first. He didn’t let him die because of his use, but also because of their so-called “common destiny” in his eyes, a diamond in a rough he might’ve disposed of otherwise if he didn’t see his potential. There’s not much he could’ve done for Dazai here except keep him healthy and alive. Mori gets tons of flack for not trying to help him, but there's nothing he could've done, not in their position.

He can't cultivate his potential if there is abuse involved because there is no logical reason for him to do anything to Dazai. You guys have to stop assuming the worst when it comes to Mori, you’re missing huge character details that are right in front of you. The difference between Mori, the Boss of the Port Mafia, and Mori, the Orphanage Director is that he had time to rekindle his humanity so he’s able to care about him like a normal human being, feel guilt, and admit regret after Beast Dazai has died. Mori at most was responsible for ingraining tactical strategies and theories and molding him into the perfect Mafioso and right-hand man.

Not to say any of those aren’t a bad thing. He’s still a child and having him use his desensitized, intelligent mind to build the potential in what he could do for the mafia, it’s just that he’s responsible for very little in Dazai’s personality. The only answer I could give about Dazai being abused by Mori or being abused under the credentials that he’s a child in a violent, unsafe place is the same answer given earlier for Chuuya: in his case, not really.

Regarding this, I retract my statement about anything I’ve said about Beast Atsushi not being a victim in his time in the mafia, but I still hold my stance that he’s not the victim of the port mafia. I want to say the same thing about Beast Dazai and Atsushi that I do here, but considering he picked him up and trained him like how he trained Akutagawa, there’s a great chance Dazai emotionally abused him when you read their interactions. Not physically as that would make him too much like the headmaster, but just enough emotional distress in bringing up traumatic moments to manipulate him into doing what he needs of him.

It’s not a good relationship, but Mori wasn’t targeting Dazai in any real way like the Director and Atsushi or Dazai and Akutagawa. Unlike every other section, I have to conclude that he didn’t do anything to Dazai in that regard other than treating him like another adult when he shouldn't have. I don’t have much to say negatively about their dynamic otherwise. Just a weird, terrible son with his weird, terrible father. It’s more like someone who's taking after their mentor’s teaching and methods rather than an abuse victim echoing their abuser. This is why I don't accept the “Cycle of Abuse” as how the fandom understands it. It tells me a lot that people resort to the blame game.

I wonder what Dazai and Mori’s relationship would've looked like without any of this in the middle. Maybe something in cadence with Ranpo and Fukuzawa, but I can't help thinking that accepting Atsushi as his son in Beast instead of a student wasn't just for Atsushi’s sake. He was about to call him his student too, but immediately changed his mind. He already admitted he was helping him because of what happened to Dazai, so it can’t be a huge jump to think that in the same way this is Atsushi’s redo in building a relationship with a father figure, this is Mori’s redo to give him some atonement for the boy he failed.

A Mother’s Love

Kyouka, when we first meet her, appears as a force to be reckoned with. With skills a young girl shouldn’t have, and a demon shadowing behind, she’s a terrifying opponent. Quickly though, that appearance falls short in tragedy when the bomb Atsushi’s after is found on her own body and when he asks if she truly wants to kill... She has no answer, but her actions speak clearly. She gives him the defuser because she doesn’t want any more people to die, but the man behind the phone will not let it defuse.

So Kyouka does the next best thing to save more from dying: falling off the train with the bomb that’s about to go off. As long as she dies with it, nobody can use her and her abilities to massacre the people on the train when the bomb eventually fails to do what is necessary. Because that’s when Atsushi realizes that she cannot control her ability herself. No matter what she genuinely wants, she will never have the ability to obtain it because of this one fact. She can only be what people tell her she is.

We all know this story well, she gets saved by Atsushi and the man behind the phone is Akutagawa. Atsushi offers her the same kindness Dazai extended to him regardless of his reputation and destruction because it’d only be the right thing to do. He knows her incoming fate of eventual death for her crimes, he can’t do much, but she should at least experience normalcy this one time.

When she’s about to turn herself in, Akutagawa stops her and tells her she did her job well as a decoy for him to capture Atsushi. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a peculiar oddness about Akutagawa here in his attitude towards Kyouka. In all logic, even though she is a strong tool to the mafia, she’s a low-level member, a disobedient one at that, and should’ve been killed on sight for her betrayal considering how quick he is to violence, but he talks as if nothing even happened. He brushes off any thought of her dying as she’s spouting nonsense and that she’s going to go back to the mafia as normal.

But then he spouts off about how she’s better off dead on the ship if she stops killing. What’s up with that? It’s not completely obvious at first, but he’s projecting his own experiences in the slums and beliefs formed from Dazai’s mentoring onto her. From his time when he wasn’t in the mafia, he tells her there’s nothing left out there for people like them, there’s only rock bottom. He can confidently say that there is nowhere that would accept her for her ability, demon snow, because it’s the same for him.

The only way her life can have value is to kill to be useful, just like any good mafia member. It’s exactly why that flashback with Dazai happens here. He’s the one who fed him these thoughts he’s lived with for these past 6 years, and what she’s been believing for 6 months. He doesn’t loathe her, he sees it as doing a favor for her. What else can a little girl who can kill be use of except to kill in her circumstances?

Contrary to popular belief, he is not her abuser and is not the same thing Dazai was to him. He neither trained her nor did we have information on their relationship to come to that conclusion. The only thing we know is that he was the one sent to pick her up by the Port Mafia. We can prove she is not the way she is because Akutagawa since Beast, well, exists. She is one of the few characters I can confidently say was a victim of the Port Mafia itself and not just a person of the Port Mafia specifically.

Akutagawa was trying to be what Dazai was to him, but he is selling a bastardized version of it to her. The person who was her Dazai was Atsushi, the same person who was given Dazai’s act of kindness. Someone who has experienced the same things Akutagawa has and is living proof that she can hope for something better.

He could see that the same revenge and lack of regard for her life in her eye was the same kind he met Dazai with. Despite that, these lessons he’s internalized have helped no one, not even himself. She can’t find meaning in something that is the root cause of her suicidal ideation. This life is unfulfilling for people like them who need meaning in life. Akutagawa doesn't realize this because he still has Dazai to be his motivational goal. That’s why he failed to help Kyouka, Dazai’s efforts would’ve been considered an utmost failure too if he wasn’t actively trying to fix that misunderstanding. Kindness is what actively saves us and helps us grow, the harm in abusive environments will only stunt us. But what happens when kindness is offered to us, but nothing comes out of it except proving us right that we’re unsavable? Then you have Kouyou.

Kouyou is the second person I could say was a victim of the Port Mafia. She has the same belief Akutagawa had about people like them being unable to be saved, so the only thing they can do is embrace it. I can’t claim she was Kyouka’s abuser either as we again don’t know enough, but that doesn’t change that her behavior is emotionally abusive, and is a much better contender than he is.

She’s doing the same thing Akutagawa was doing himself. Seeing themselves in this child and doing what she “needs” instead of what she wants. Just like him, she views this as saving her from the hands of light that will never make room for them and will ignore everything else she says. When Akutagawa is faced with her “disillusionment”, he… accepts it when she refuses his will and chooses another path, but almost kills her to spare her from that decision that would “doom” her.

Kouyou is much less accepting, opting to kill the root source of this hope itself, Atsushi, because her fondness for Kyouka prevents her from leaving her for dead. In contrast to Akutagawa’s attempt at being what gives her life meaning, Kouyou wants to stop Atsushi from being like the same man who also gave her hope that they could escape to the world of light. She can’t bear to see Kyouka go through the same realization she did far too late.

I can see what you're thinking, why am I reluctant to call either of them Kyouka’s abuser? Even if Akutagawa doesn't count, shouldn't Kouyou count because she seems to have an actual relationship with her and her effects are prevalent in Beast, the same points I mentioned to debunk accusations against him? Sure actually, but think about it like this. What the Port Mafia does have in common with real situations is that this is a community that is full of victims who refuse to process their traumatic experiences for any reason, and bring down others to their level when they don’t fit in their narrative to justify what’s happened to them.

There isn’t just one abuser weighing over you, there's this collective pressure from so many who aren't your abuser but they still contribute to your abuse with their presence itself. If Dazai wasn’t there in the mafia, would Akutagawa's situation have changed? Yes. Now if Akutagawa or Kouyou weren’t in the mafia, would Kyouka's situation have changed? Not at all. She’d have fewer examples to refer to, but she’d still be abused. If it’s easier to imagine, think of it similarly to cult mentality and how they keep you in cults. That is the reason I emphasized being a victim of the Port Mafia instead of an individual. Kouyou, Q, and Kyouka, while you can pin their main perpetrators on certain people, their overall situation doesn't change.

Now why doesn’t she just use the phone herself instead of letting people call Demon Snow for her? Wouldn’t she have more agency that way? Atsushi proposes this, but she rejects it instantly. It’s a very simple answer, it’s the same reason she can’t bear to look at it outside of when she’s forced to use it in combat. It’s her ability that killed her parents and why she was forced into this position.

It’s not hard for a little girl to believe she’s nothing more than a killing machine when she sees that night her ability would mercilessly kill her parents. She eventually caves when Kouyou points out how quick she is to vindicate violence to protect that hope she desperately wants a part of, and how she will never change. Her first mission with the Armed Detective Agency is proof in itself. Was Atsushi going to keep extending his kindness after hearing what she could only blame herself for?

Kouyou is a character I’ve seen that gets a lot of double standards compared to all of the other characters I’ve mentioned with abusive tendencies and is almost purely liked. She’s not seen as an absolute monster (The director, Mori) or controversial with one side containing pure dislike and another pure love (Akutagawa, Dazai), it’s only that she’s a well-written, sympathetic badass girl boss. It’s either because she’s a woman, that she doesn’t use an overt intimidation style, that her motives are more obvious in their emotional influences, or all of the above that she’s not treated the same.

Kouyou’s motivations are not special, as I’ve said. The only thing that differentiates them from the others is that they’re not covered by a mask of indifference. As fond as she is for her, she’s not much different from anyone else who holds the mafia up in high regard. She weaponizes her words in where they’d hurt the most so Kyouka would come with her. The entire last section of their battle sums up with her saying, “Kyouka come with me, they’ll only use you for your Ability when they get a hold of it. Even if the mafia did the same thing, at least they’ll accept you for who you truly are: a natural-born killer. You don’t have to fight anymore, I’ll protect you.”

When Atsushi finds Kyouka once again subsequently in her disappearance, she chooses to embrace her violence to help the Armed Detective Agency in this fight with the Guild. After her walk in where she used to reside, she comes the the conclusion she no longer belongs there. Against Kouyou’s wishes, she will brandish her blade for a home. That blows up in her face the moment she starts. Atsushi gets taken, and it’s just as Kouyou said would happen. If even her violence doesn’t get her wish, then what can she do besides leave herself to her fate?

As someone who’s seen another with a talent for killing walk the path of good and is on that same path himself, Dazai talks to her. He tells her about how she hasn’t gone through her entrance exam yet, how she isn’t an official member because she hasn’t proven her will or life on the line to help people she doesn’t necessarily know. Kyouka doesn’t believe she could’ve passed if that’s what it takes, but Dazai doesn’t agree with the points she’s brought up. So what if she’s killed or considered dangerous? That doesn’t make her less qualified to be a part of the Detective Agency, everyone there is from different backgrounds.

She can’t know everything, not even about herself. Nobody does, but it takes others to see more of yourself. Excelling in one area doesn’t prevent you from nurturing your potential in another. What would that make someone like Atsushi, a person who’s been her guiding figure throughout—but was never seen as anything more than a threat or a beast because of his ability before he joined them? The truth is, our lives aren’t defined by one purpose the moment we’re born, it’s only something you can make for yourself. We’re not the places we’ve been raised in, not the ideas people apply to us, and we’re especially not defined by the traumatic experiences we had no control over.

All of it accumulates the person we are today, and we can’t change that no matter how much we resent parts of our image that don’t hold up to what society deems as right, but it shouldn’t take control over what we want for ourselves. It isn’t fair for the victims who were forced into a life where they had to fend for themselves, the children who had to navigate an adult’s messed up world that didn’t have room for them to grow as kids should. Forced into a box where they stay unaware that they’ve ever left their mother’s womb, break out in fury with eyes that grew up too early—only to become lost and thrown away, or rot in that box without a single person knowing they were a breathing, living human being.

I deem abuse selfish for this very reason. Kouyou is wrong for this very reason. If she finds comfort in her reasoning, then I can’t critique her for her own choices and will have to respect her for choosing to stay in the mafia even when the old boss is dead, every abuse victim is different, but not a single person is born evil or good, in the dark or light. Not a soul has to stay in one place because they started there. It’s going to be a hard journey to truly achieve what you long for, results aren’t immediate and not everyone gets there no matter their effort, but still try. Try because it’s still worth trying, because you’re still worth more than you think.

In parallel, you can only get there as long as you’re seeking it. Too many see the Armed Detective Agency as something that will automatically save characters just by working there, but the only way it can help them is if they seek out their help themselves. The ADA is not the right place for every character, but Kyouka does want a place there. After her conversation with Dazai, she knows what she wants to do now. She will smash the drone she’s in into Moby Dick so nobody will have to die, but sacrifice her own life in the process. She’s chained to this place, but her choices aren’t.

She doesn’t have to die with regret, with this she can pass the entrance exam and become an agency member like she wanted. She made a difference for herself just by this act. It’d be a pretty melancholy arc if it ended like that, thank god we know it doesn’t end like this. When you become a full agency member, you gain more control over your ability, meaning—

She’s fine.

The exposition is over, let’s talk about Kyouka. Her arc is beautiful and the neglect to talk about her when it comes to her abuse story besides saying, “She’s the one who stopped the abuse cycle” and then nothing else is heartbreakingly superficial. She didn’t stop it, it’s impossible to, but she did break out of it. Kyouka’s section has more exposition than the others but I expected that. I wanted to save her for last because she’s the only one whose arc has come to a peaceful conclusion and not unfinished, and the lighter message felt nice to leave off on.

I shouldn’t berate Kouyou too much, the only reason she stayed in that room after being captured by the ADA is because she did want Kyouka to experience what she never had, and speaking with Dazai helped reassure her that Kyouka would be able to achieve her dreams. It’s no longer the age of the old boss. As well as her shedding the truth about her parent’s death so she wouldn’t have to resent her ability as not an avatar of massacre, but a product of her parents’ love that will always stay with her. She didn’t let go of the phone she’s had this entire time because her mother told her not to let it go.

Me going over Kouyou in this fashion is not me saying you shouldn’t love her character, I like her too. It’s just that it’s passed over so fast what she did, but somehow Akutagawa is more at fault here is mind-boggling. I’d get it a little more if this is because she redeemed herself by wanting the best for Kyouka over what was best for the mafia, but I doubt that’s the case when that moment is talked about so little as well.

I genuinely need you all to understand that not every character is going to have a satisfying, clean conclusion like this. Akutagawa’s story is most likely not going to have a conclusion that satisfies everyone and you should respect it when it comes. There’s no perfect way of writing abuse, but there’s no correct way of doing it either. I don’t think Dazai is going to have the repercussions you want him to have any time soon. If you got the message from Beast, getting revenge on an abuser doesn’t make us feel better or let us process what happened to us. Total resentment keeps us stuck.

The only thing that will heal us is the kindness so many offer in this series. You in no way need to extend that kindness to an abuser, you don’t need to forgive them or let them into your life again, but be kind to yourself and don’t let resentment prevent you from focusing on yourself. Forgiveness and reconnection are not the same thing. Don’t be angry when a victim does want those things. Unless it’s character inconsistent, that’s not something we shouldn’t have any opinion on as the right or wrong way to go about their lives. What if later they do change their mind and want something different from what they originally planned? That’s fine too. Everyone is different. Don’t give unsolicited advice to people who do not want it, let them decide for themselves. It is the best thing you can do.

The worst abusers are the ones who refuse to change and see wrong in what they’re doing, but what about the ones who do want that? Then also let them heal. They did something awful, why isn’t it a good thing they want to stop it now? You don’t have to let them in just because they changed though. Apologies don’t fix the damage already done, but to some victims, it feels nice to feel that what’s been done to them is acknowledged. You don’t want them to hurt others the way they’ve done to you, and neither do they. It hurts to let them forgive themselves when you haven’t and never will, you want to see them suffer, but that’s the only way things can change.

Dazai has changed, is he a good person even after what he’s done? I despise this question for any character of this series. He’s grown so much, and if you don’t think so, reread his conversation with Kyouka I beg of you. It is a far cry from his mindset in the mafia. A better person for sure, but a good person is hard to define for anyone in this series. The mafia is still the mafia, do any of them qualify as good people? The government, even if it’s the position of the right in society, is still an unjust system.

What a good person is cannot be an objective answer, people think there is but it’s not. A good person is how much we know about them and where our position in life affects our viewpoint. Prejudice values don’t make you correct in what you think a good person is, being convicted of a crime, one you might not even have committed, doesn’t automatically make you a bad person, being associated with a group doesn’t mean anything about who you are, etc. It’s all subjective in the end.

Meaning someone like Odasaku is essential in a story like this. He still has a presence in this narrative, even if he died in a light novel, because his existence pushes the boundaries of a “good person” in the fact his contradictory existence establishes itself. He failed in walking the path he wanted, but he doesn’t regret it even in his dying moments trying to.

Afterthoughts

The themes of morality and humanity go hand in hand with the abuse present in Bungou Stray Dogs, so it was hard avoiding talking about this when it was necessary. I don’t think it’s right of us to judge a character’s path that isn’t finished, in a story that’s nowhere near done. Ultimately, I’m only talking in a place of experience but never will it make me exempt from any personal bias. I tried to be as objective and nuanced as I could about this, and I hope it shows.

Abuse isn’t one of those things that I can analyze from any logical stand point or take resources to back my statements up about abuse. Of course everything I say can be backed up, but abuse is a personal, human matter and we’re just human being trying to figure out more than we can handle. I just couldn’t be comfortable with how people are now choosing to talk about Asagiri and needed to shed some light in what you’re missing.

Now I could’ve gone over Higuchi or Lucy because their stories also involve abuse, but I don’t think I could say anything new about them without repeating points I’ve already said. We know very little about Higuchi and what made her so devoted to Akutagawa, and Lucy is pretty quick to summarize considering her story is just like Atsushi’s. Q is also a character to be brought up but I don’t have enough information on them to say much about any abuse itself that happened.

Yosano was also an option but I don’t think anyone had any trouble understanding her backstory. Well I was only really aiming to speak about what’s not been spoken enough. Thank you for reading haha, god this thing is monstrous. Already got to 14k words by the time I was officially done…. I didn’t know if I wanted to lean into character analysis or just exposition, I hope it’s a good enough mix of both. This took way longer than the 4 days I was planning to write this in.

I was later reminded that I could do a post on how their abilities functioned and reflect on their abuse/traumatic events, but I didn’t think I’d have enough room for that here. It could be a bonus post eventually? I don’t think I did Kyouka enough justice in that aspect, but i’d just be beating myself up again about not making this perfect.

I hope I don’t come off scary or a very serious person? I’m very open to requests or discussions people want to engage in. Oh jeez, I’ll just embarrass myself if I keep talking. Writing this was a bit much, never really liked writing stuff myself. Sorry if glossed over anything, I wanted to stay on topic and not detail into something unnecessary.

The message BSD has is a pretty normal one, but there’s something very special about how it’s written here and I’m happy it exists. Maybe I shouldn’t have made this so long? But there’s so much to express sigh……

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lily-lovelyy · 8 months

Text

★Poisoned★

Konig x reader (angst)

warnings; slight nsfw, fem!reader, reader uses the call sign Widow, shadow!reader.

In which the reader betrays task force 141 after Konig falls in love with her.

"Konig! Take the fucking shot—" Konig cringed at the malice in Ghost's voice over the coms, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't pull the trigger no matter how desperately he knew he should.

Not when the person he was supposed to shoot was you. His beloved Widow. His mind screamed at him to be angry with you - furious - but he only felt sorrow, a deep sadness in his chest. He looked at your pretty face through the scope of his rifle and tried, again, to shoot. He couldn't.

Your words rant through his ears now, the sweet words you'd mumbled to him after you two had been laying naked in bed, spent from your previous activities.

"I'd never leave you, Konig. I hope you know that, I'll always be with you." You'd muttered in his ear, leaving a small kiss to the shell of it.

He bit back tears now, tears of betrayal, and some of anger. "What the bloody hell are you doing?! SHOOT HER." Ghost yelled again, before the coms went silent.

Konig didn't notice, all he was focused on was watching you, the mean expression on your face, and the way Graves pat you on the back, applauding you of your betrayal to the task force. You'd spend a year collecting Intel from the task force and sending it over to Graves.

Even after this, Konig was still in love with you, he was so sure that he could make you see reason, make you turn yourself in and help the task force understand why you betrayed them.

"I can't, Ghost." Konig breathed shakily, waiting for a response but getting none. "Sir?" Konig asked again, moving his gaze from your face and to the side, his brows furrowing in confusion. Soon after, his head jerked to the side as he heard footsteps and the crunching of leaves nearby.

Konig stood, his hand on his pistol that was strapped to his large thigh. It happened fast, a voice, a man, shouted and at least four men came at Konig, guns and hand knives drawn as one pushed him down to the ground and clocked him on the side of his head with the handle of his gun.

Normally, Konig wouldn't be taken down so easily, but the men had gotten the upper hand, he was distracted.

———

Konig grunted, shaking his head as he looked up, his mask was askew and he shook his head a couple times to attempt to rearrange it. He spotted Ghost, Gaz, Soap, Farah, and a few others tied to chairs or beams attached to the ceiling of what he was sure was a shed.

He was sure his breath stopped when he looked over and saw you, leaning against a beam Soap had been tied to. "Traitorous bitch." Ghost hissed, his eyes narrowed through his mask, and you rolled your eyes.

Konig stayed silent, before he hadn't told anyone at the base of your and his...relations, and he didn't plan to now. "I'm surprised," you spoke, walking over to Konig.

"I didn't think Graves's men would have taken you down, I was almost positive that you would have gotten away. Shame." You said, grabbing the fabric of Konig's sniper hood and yanking it closer to your face. Konig remained silent, his eyes now held rage, the sorrow from before was no longer there.

You scoffed, hearing the shed open and Graves walking in, two men flanking either side of him. "Widow, have fun with your old crew?" He said, his hands resting against his hips, almost sassily.

You grunted, you weren't particularly fond of him. His name often left a bad taste in your mouth. "Whatever Graves." You sigh, walking over to him. "I have to say I'm surprised we got so many of you in here." Graves almost laughed, taunting the task force.

"yeah, you got lucky that you had a traitor slag on your side." Ghost spat, you and Ghost had been close, but if he said sometimes he didn't get a bad feeling from you, he'd been lying. Safe to say his gut feeling about you had been right.

"Graves. Don't we have...other business?" You say, motioning with a jerk of your head out of the shed. He nods, before walking up to Price, smirking down at him. "I guess we were just one step ahead, huh Captain?" Graves laughed, before turning around, giving everyone one last glance and leaving the shed, along with you.

Konig almost weeped seeing you leave, he didn't want your betrayal to be real, but the longer he looked at you and took your demeanor in, he realized this was what you'd fully intended the entire time you'd been at the task force. With a slam of the shed doors, the others sighed, slumping against the back of whatever they were tied to, too tired to come up with an escape plan. Konig hang his head, thinking about what would have happened if you hadn't betrayed him, he was thankful his mask covered his face as tears rolled down his face.

——

(A/N: and that's all you get for now ahahahahaahahah 😋)

#call of duty mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig #könig x reader #konig fanfiction #könig #könig cod #könig call of duty #call of duty #konig cod #cod mwii #cod mw2 #ghost cod #konig mw2 #könig mw2 #mw2 #konig modern warfare

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steventhusiast · 11 months

Text

steve’s in the middle of trying to organise a pile of returned tapes by genre when he hears the bell on the door ring. his eyes flicker up to family video’s door, and he intends to only check the customer doesn’t look suspicious, but when he sees who’s entered the store he can’t help the smile that creeps onto his face.

“eds!” he greets his boyfriend, happily abandoning his task to lean onto the counter and watch eddie walk up to him.

“your highness.” eddie greets dramatically, and steve watches as he does a quick scope of the store as he reaches the counter. it’s empty, so of course eddie hops up and over the obstacle to stand next to steve.

“what the hell, eddie!” robin complains as eddie knocks into her half-organised tape pile on his way over, sending a couple tapes onto the ground.

eddie looks at her with a wide-eyed ‘oops’ expression, and then picks up the tapes, attempting to put them back in their place.

“sorry, buck.”

“yeah, yeah.” she huffs, but she’s smiling a little so steve knows she’s not actually mad. she holds up a copy of back to the future, and raises an eyebrow, “you put this in the romance pile.”

“stevie says marty tries to bang his mom in that, so am i really wrong?”

robin blinks at him a couple times, and then shakes her head and resumes her pile-sorting, seemingly done with them for now.

eddie finally smiles at steve from where he is next to him, and gently takes his hand and squeezes it under the counter.

“missed you last night.” he says. steve shuffles his feet a little in response, and squeezes his hand back.

“missed you too. you know how my parents are when they’re in town.”

“yeah, i know.” eddie’s soft smile switches to something more playful as he pauses, “too bad though, had biiig plans for us involving.. one of our most recent purchases in indy.”

robin makes a gagging sound from where she’s stood, and as steve blushes and opens his mouth to say something in reply she reaches over to push at his shoulder and then starts talking before he gets the chance to.

“i say this with love because you are my favourite dingus and dongus, if you make me stand here and listen to you make vague sexual references while i get paid minimum wage to organise these stupid tapes, i might do something drastic.”

eddie snorts at her words.

“you have such a way with words, robs.”

for some reason she looks offended at that, and steve chuckles to himself as he waits for the verbal tennis match to start between them.

they’re interrupted by the bell at the door telling them another customer has walked in, so steve glances over again and-

oh. it’s tommy’s mom.

somehow, for some reason, tommy never told his parents that they’re not on speaking terms anymore. steve had been absolutely dumbfounded the first time mrs hagan came over to say hello after their fight. he’d been expecting her to start chewing him out for upsetting her baby, but instead she’d asked how his mother was doing and had given him a motherly hug like always.

so, he steels himself for an interaction that will later make him feel a strange mix of nostalgic, sad and angry.

“steve! i forgot you work here.” mrs hagan grins at him as she walks over, a copy of pretty in pink in her hand.

“hi mrs hagan.” he offers her a half-hearted smile, and she puts the tape on the counter.

“just came to return this. such a lovely surprise to see you, though. it’s been too long honey! i’m sure tommy misses having you around, i know i do.” she says, and steve winces slightly as he feels robin’s eyes on him.

“oh, yeah. it’s, it’s real nice to see you too mrs h.” there’s an awkward pause where mrs hagan frowns a little at his lack of response to her tommy-related words, so he continues, “time really does fly when you’re not at high school anymore. barely have time to see any of my friends, really.”

he pointedly doesn’t look over to where eddie is now helping robin through the pile of tapes. mrs hagan nods uncertainly, and after steve’s finished with her return and a couple seconds of awkward silence have passed, she nods to herself.

“right, well.. i’ll be off then. we’re actually having a small gathering this weekend, honey. i bet tommy would love to see you there!” she tries at a smile again, but steve can’t really hide the panic in his eyes at the offer.

“oh! i’d- i’d love to mrs h, but i am just-“ he makes a vague gesture with his hands, “so swamped. really busy weekend.”

mrs hagan looks sad at his words, but nods again slowly.

“another time then.”

“sure.” steve lies, and watches as she leaves.

once she’s gone, he thinks about what the party would be like if he does go. he won’t, obviously, but.. what if?

realistically, he knows tommy would be the same jerk he’d been when they last talked a few years ago. but the more childish part of him that remembers his friendship with tommy through rose-coloured glasses wants to believe it could be fun.

maybe it’d be like old times, and he and tommy would take turns pushing each other into the pool. then they’d get each other a plate of food, purposely putting something they know the other doesn’t like on it because they think it’s funny. and finally, after a few hours they’d sneak off to tommy’s room and hang out, talking about anything and everything that comes to mind.

a big part of steve knows tommy was a toxic friend, that they weren’t good for each other and their relationship was strained and unhealthy. but a small part of him misses him more deeply than he wants to admit.

sometimes, when robin asks him a question about his childhood and he realises she hasn’t been his friend since birth, he thinks about how tommy would know that because he’d been there since the start. or she’ll falter when looking for a plate and steve knows tommy could navigate his kitchen with his eyes closed.

but in the same vain, robin will know that he’s got a migraine coming just from the smallest of winces, and steve thinks about how tommy doesn’t even know he gets migraines now. and she knows which floorboard in his room covers a pile of polaroids of him and eddie, and he thinks about how tommy wouldn’t even be safe enough to tell about their relationship.

“you in there, stevie?” eddie says from beside him, jokingly knocking on the top of his head.

steve smiles at him, and bumps him with his shoulder affectionately.

“yeah, just thinking.” he says, and looks at the glass door again. mrs hagan’s car is pulling out of the lot now.

“careful, that sounds dangerous.” robin jokes, and then makes trumpet noises with her mouth as she sorts the final tape into the correct pile.

eddie joins in with her dramatics, going as far as to mime playing his trumpet. robin critiques the way he’s miming holding one, and eddie scoffs at her and tells her to mime playing guitar so he can make fun of her back.

steve smiles to himself, and looks away from the car as it drives away.

he may miss his friendship with tommy sometimes, but this? he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

idk what this is but i hope u enjoyed it

inspired by one of my old best friends’ parents who used to come into the store i worked at and say hi to me because they didn’t know our friendship group had a MASSIVE falling out. i miss that friendship a lot sometimes even though it was toxic, and those thoughts inspired this because every thought i have can be projected onto steve if i try hard enough

#steve harrington has so much space to project onto #blank canvas for all my things #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #steddie ficlet #st #mywriting #robin buckley #platonic stobin #stobin

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opossumloverr · 4 months

Text

✞°•I DON'T BELIEVE IN GHOSTS•°✞

(Based on this song, I know you know this song. don't lie to me)

Summary:

Turtle bros with a ghost reader!

Warning(s):

Some cursing!

A/N:

I MUST BE DREAMING CAUSE I DON'T BELIEVE IN GHOST YEAH, sorry, anyways, idk I just felt a little silly today, and I really do love this song. also I'm trying a different style DONT BULLY ME IT TOOK ME LIKE AN HOUR TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO DO GRADIENT

It was a chilly October night, the leaves rustled as the four brothers made their way towards an abandoned graveyard. The atmosphere was dark and gloomy, but they were determined to explore the area, for reasons unknown to anyone but themselves.

"I don't like this, guys. Let's turn back," the youngest brother, Mikey, shivered.

"What? No way! You said you were bored, Mikey. This is exactly what we need to get our blood pumping!" another brother exclaimed.

"He was bored, Leo, not us. You didn't have to drag us all here," one of the brothers groaned in annoyance.

"Sorry that Mr. Bootyshaker9000 wanted to stay indoors and rot. I'm preventing the inevitable!" Leo clapped back.

"I'm trying to prevent hitting you with my Tech Bo," Donnie gripped his weapon tighter.

"Try it, you won't," Leo egged Donnie on.

"You little…" Donnie scowled, lifting his weapon before getting interrupted.

"Enough! Fighting is not the memo right now! Now you two cut it out or else I'll…wait, what was that?" the oldest brother paused on his scolding to scope out the area. A pungent smell of perfume floated in the air, and chills went down their spines.

"I'm getting really bad vibes here! I told you we should've gone back to the lair!" Mikey exclaimed.

"Don't be such a party pooper, Mike! It's probably all in our heads," Leo tried to come up with a reasonable explanation, but a gust of wind shut off all of his thoughts.

"What was that?!" Raph exclaimed.

"It's a ghost!" Mikey chattered.

"That is preposterous, Michael. There is no such thing as a ghost-"

"No, he's right."

They all screamed in unison, clinging onto Raph. "AH!"

《RAPH》

After the shock and some failed punching attempts, he finally decided to talk instead of fight, and it was a delightful conversation

yall sat down and talked for hours, He asked a few questions, and you answered them

he made sure not to ask personal questions, like how you died and stuff (unlike Donnie, that insensitive prick)

was kinda sad when he had to go, but gotta make sure pops doesn't worry,

he promises he'll see you again

a few weeks later you show up in his room, sitting down calmly on his bed, or, erm, floating.

he threw multiple items at you before calming down and realizing that it was you, what were you doing here? how did you know where he lives?

all of those questions were brushed off when he heard that you just wanted to see him, and only him.

his heart pounded in his plastron, you wanted to see him? big ol' him? cue huge tail thumping into the ground

yall talked for HOURS, him talking about Lou Jitsu- wait, you've never watched Lou Jitsu? he's inviting you to family movie night. there's no getting out of this.

over the months, the both of you got close, he no longer throws objects or tries to throw hands when he sees you!

enjoys the company when he lifts weights

"Wow, those seem heavy," you said, impressed by his muscles as he lifted the weights.

"They are heavy, but don't worry, Raph's got gains!" he replied, flexing his muscles with a curl-up.

"Can I try?" you asked, reaching out your hands.

"Sure, but be careful. I'll be here to spot ya!" he said, passing the weights to you.

However, you forgot that you were transparent and accidentally dropped the weights on his tail, causing him to scream in pain.

"Oops! I forget I'm transparent sometimes... You just make me feel so alive..." you said sheepishly.

"I-I make you feel alive?" he questioned, seemingly forgetting the intense pain in his tail.

HES SOSOSO SILLY GUYS I CAN'T

《LEO》

He had never sliced a portal open this fast

before he could dive head-first into his portal you floated in front of it

you just wanted to talk... okay... but he's keeping a close eye on you

a few minutes later he's blabbing about Jupiter Jim to you, you've never watched it? what? do you live under a rock? or... a grave...

and you seem so interested! he could talk about it for hours! you know he could.

he literally clung onto the ground when it was time to leave, complaining as Raph dragged him away

he shouted a quick "See you soon"

he saw you soon alright, in his room, looking at his pile of Jupiter Jim comics curiously

He literally screamed like a girl

Oh! it's just you... where did you come from? oh, you just wanted to see him, not his brothers? him?

boosts up his ego by 100x

"I knew you couldn't get enough of me" type of energy

proceeds to yap about Jupiter Jim some more, what? it's YOUR fault for indulging in his hyperfixations

yall are the talker and listener duo

"And so Jupiter Jim was all like- pew pew pew! and the aliens were all like- Ohno! and then- hey, hey [NAME], are ya listening?" He questioned,

"Mhm, go on, I'm all ears"

Leo's eyes widened, and small churrs could be heard "OKOK! And then Jupiter Jim was all like, no way jose!"

He just like me fr

《DONNIE》

There is no logical way this could be happening! ghosts? really?

immediately started asking questions, why do you exist? how do you exist? would you perhaps be interested in some experiments, y'know, for scientific purposes (definitely not for his own personal questions)

his questions just kept on coming and coming, some of them being more insensitive than the last, he would've said more if Raph didn't smack him on top of the head...

but you were happy to answer them non the less

when they had to skedaddle he was pissed, how dare they interrupt! can't you see there was science in the making?

he says he'll come to you, for more questions of course, nothing more... (cap)

he didn't expect you to come to him.

he jumped a little but then started going into his "I ask you, answer" mode

Experiments on you (with consent ofc)

discovers you have telekinesis

you two grew close, his experiments died down the more he learned about you

now, he just really enjoys the company

just knowing that you're there watching him while he tackles a project gets him so motivated

you're like his little assistant

"[NAME], be a dear and pass me that wrench over there," he asks, hand out, palm open,

"You got it boss" you floated the wrench toward him, and he grabbed it

"Thank you, you really are a great help, [NAME]"

"Just glad to be here Don-tron!" you smiled, not noticing the slight wag to his tail.

He really appreciates you

《MIKEY》

He just kept screaming and screaming until you snapped him out of it

what? why aren't you trying to take his body? and why aren't you freakishly creepy, you just looked like a normal person, minus the floating and transparency

Oh, you just wanted to talk? well, as long as you don't possess his body he's all for it!

The conversation was amazing! he got so much more information about ghosts, he's even more fixated on them now!

you got this turtle laying on the ground, twirling his mask tails in his fingers, kicking his feet, saying "Ooh! Tell me more!"

was whining like a puppy dog when he had to get up on out of there, puppy dog eyes did not work in his favor tonight..

he swears up and down that he will visit you, just wait!

I guess you've waited long enough, because the following week you were caught snooping around his room

he screamed, yes, he won't lie.

but it's not his fault that you popped up out of nowhere!

then starts talking to you like he didn't scream like 100 decibels

Just yip yap yapping away, but you don't mind, you enjoy socializing with him

kinda sad that he can't touch you though, sometimes he wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around you

you're his muse! asks you to pose for him, and you happily oblige

"Okay just keep that position, right there, perfect! such an amazing muse for me!" He smiles,

"Well, it's easy to pose when I have such a wonderful artist painting me" You replied,

"Awe shucks, don't compliment me like that! you're going to give me an ego" he chirps happily

lala and okok duo. that's all I have to say.

BOO! HAPPY NEW YEARS GUYS OMGOMG 2024 IS HOPEFULLY GONNA BE A GREAT YEAR, HERES A LIL DITTY I WROTE, I HOPE YA LIKE IT, IM GETTING ON MY GRIND RIGHT NOW, I love ya! Merry 24, also I was watching Coryxkenshin while writing, shout out to the shogun. There also MIGHT be some grammar mistakes, kinda rushed to get this out

#Spotify #x reader #rottmnt #raphael rottmnt #donnatello rottmnt #leonardo rottmnt #michelangelo rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles

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ssuperficialspacecadett · 1 year

Text

Escrito en las Estrellas (Written in the Stars)

Chapter Six of the Through the Scope series | Chapter Seven

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4.6K

Chapter Overview: You celebrate your first month working at Brass Knuckles

TW: t*m in the gif (i hate this mf and i dont care who knows)

Notes: okay so this chapter is what started me on my 'through the scope' journey ! i was driving back home to visit family and the phrase "it's written in the stars" just came to me so naturally i had to write an entire Frankie fan fic just so i could birth this one scene (i had no other choice obviously). this chapter was originally twice its length, but i cut it in half so i could make two chapters out of it hehe. i updated the tag list so please let me know if i missed you !! as usual ... my asks are always open & happy reading <3

*no use of y/n & female presenting reader*

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“So you two really haven’t hooked up yet? Not even a small kiss? You’re killing me right now. It’s been a month!”

You’re on the phone with Robbie this evening to keep you company while you fold laundry. When she says that you have already been in Florida for a month, you feel shocked. Has it really been that long already? You count up the weeks in your head and today, Monday, marks the start of your fourth week here. Four weeks of watching your dad get stronger, four weeks of working at Brass Knuckles, and four weeks of crushing on Frankie.

“I told you we haven’t done anything, Robbie! But fuck if I don’t want to. The only thing is that I think he’s in a weird place with his girlfriend right now. Or maybe she’s his ex-girlfriend that he’s sort of talking to again? Ugh! I don’t even know!”

You give up on folding, you are doing a terrible job at it anyway, and flop yourself down, stomach first, on your bed.

“Why don’t you ask Benny about it then? Maybe he can give you some clarity?”

“For someone that’s so smart, you are so dumb.”

“Excuse me?” Her tone is playful, but still laced with warning.

“Look, I can’t just ask Benny about Frankie’s love life. It would be a dead give away that I like him and it just seems like…it just seems like an invasion of privacy.”

“You’re just stalling, you fucking baby. They are your friends right? Benny and Frankie?”

“Well, yeah? I would say so.” You’re not following where she's going.

“Then you should be able to ask them about what’s going on in their lives. That includes their love lives. We ask each other all the time!”

God you hate it when her logic makes sense.

“Okay! Okay. I’ll ask Benny about it at work this week then. Would that make you happy?”

“No, that would make me content. What would make me happy is if yall finally fuc-”

“Woah!” You cut her off with a laugh. “Don’t you have some studying to do, miss. lawyer?”

“I resent you for changing the subject right when we were getting somewhere, but yes I do. Call me when you grow a pair and ask?”

“Trust me, Robbie. You’ll be the first to know.”

You laugh to yourself as you toss your phone on your bed and roll over onto your back. You would be lying to yourself if you said that you wouldn’t be happy if you and Frankie finally hooked up either. Since you have been here, you have gotten a small feeling that he might like you back. First there was him observing you when you two first met while his friends talked around him. Then there was him inviting you out with the guys for fight night. After that was him not shying away when you gave him the note with your number and a heart. Y’all shared a beer together, he dropped everything to help you with your car, and proceeded to spend the majority of the day with you eating and shopping. Did he almost kiss you in your apartment that morning or had you just romanticized his gentlemanliness? There had to be something there right? Right?

But there was Rochelle. The woman who came before you. The woman who was first in line. While she was bad news according to Benny, you still felt hesitant about stepping on anyone's toes. You wouldn’t want that done to you. And yet you found your mind exploring the possibilities of what y’all could be to each other. Acquaintances? Friends? Something more?

***

It’s Benny’s turn to buy lunch today and he pulls through with Chick-fil-a. The conversation is natural while the two of you eat. Each of you take turns spitballing ideas on how to make the gym stand out more, if they should start selling food during fight night, if you will be a ring girl.

“When pig’s fly, Benjamin Miller. That’s when I’ll be your ring girl.”

The conversation slowly shifts into a more personal one. He talks about how he and the other guys love going to the beach together, but their schedules haven’t allowed it in a while. How all the ladies there can’t get enough of ‘old Brass Knuckles’. You share about how you and Robbie love walking around in downtown Austin, Texas and hunting for the best coffee, or food, or book stores.

“The beaches back home weren’t really the best.” You confess.

“You should come with us then! Maybe we can all plan somethin’!”

“Yeah.” You say wistfully. “Robbie is coming down in March when her school lets out for spring break. What about then?”

“Sounds fuckin’ awesome to me!”

Your tongue burns with the question you have about Frankie. It’s Thursday, which unfortunately means, it has taken you most of the week to gain the courage to bring it up. In your defense you had tried earlier, but it just never seemed like the right time. It would be weird to casually bring that topic up at random, but now that friends are being discussed…

“I’ve got a question.”

“I’ve got an answer.” He takes a sip of his drink. “Shoot.”

“I was just wondering how Frankie and Rochelle were doing. I noticed that he has seemed happier lately. Maybe they worked things out?”

He sets his cup down and looks at you quizzically. You get a nervous feeling that he’s onto you.

“Now that you mention it, he does seem happier, doesn’t he? Which isn’t anythin’ to take lightly. Especially for a guy like Fish. But to be completely honest with you, he doesn’t talk about her much around us.”

“Wait really? Y’all don’t talk about who y’all are dating?” Now your nervousness has started to make you sweat.

“It’s not that at all. It’s just,” He rubs his forehead with his hand. “It’s just different when it’s Rochelle. I told you that she doesn’t belong in his life and I still stand by that. Do you remember when I mentioned that we were a fucked up bunch?”

You nod your head at him.

“Well, it’s not my place to get into all of Fish’s business, but she played a pretty big part in that for him. It took me, the guys, and the strength of whatever higher bein’ is out there to pry him from her grip. He knows we don’t like her much. I think that's why he keeps most of it to himself.”

“Oh.” Now you feel stupid for asking. There is clearly more going in that relationship than you previously thought.

“But, he would have told us if they were officially back together. That I know for a fact.”

You’re content with his answer. At least now you know that you aren’t being a homewrecker. Surely a little more innocent flirting wouldn't hurt. Well it might hurt if he doesn’t see you that way.

“So that’s the only reason you asked?”

You stop, a french fry in hand, and cock your head at your coworker. “What?”

“Don’t play around.” He snatches the fry from you. “What’s the real reason you want to know what’s going on with Fish?”

In this very moment you make an elaborate mental scheme of how to murder Robbie and get away with it when she comes down to visit you.

“I was just curious.” You shrug.

“God, you’re such a fuckin’ liar!”

“I am not!”

“You got a thing for him, don’t you?!”

“I-I…well I-”

“I knew it! You like Fish!” He looks as happy as a kid on Christmas morning.

“Fine.” You can’t help but laugh at your friend's glee. “I like Frankie. I think he’s great.”

“Hey, I’m just glad it didn’t turn out to be Pope. That man needs to be humbled every now and then.”

The two of you burst into a fit of laughter together at the front desk. The people currently working out probably think y’all need to be admitted into the loony bin. It felt nice to finally tell someone here. Granted, Benny is Frankie’s friend, but now he’s yours too.

“Please,” You pant. “Please promise me that you won't say anything to him, Benny.”

“I promise I won’t say anything to him.” A cheeky grin splays across his face.

“I don’t think I like the way you said that.”

“Then don’t think about it. I said that I wouldn’t say anything about it, so I won’t.” He holds up one of his hands. “Scouts honor.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as he cleans up the remains of lunch and walks over to the trash bin.

“I didn’t say that I wouldn’t do anything about it though!”

He takes off running as his words register in your brain. You stand and yell after him as he vanishes into his office.

“Benny I’m going to kick your ass!”

The door’s bell must have gone off in the commotion because when you turn around to face the front of the lobby a very bewildered woman is looking directly at you.

“Oh! Sorry about that! Welcome to Brass Knuckles! How can I help you today?”

***

Operation Catch-A-Fish Chat

Benny: It’s on boys! It’s fuckin’ on!

Will: Damn that was quicker than I thought.

Pope: Did she say something?!

Benny: She told me that she liked him while we were having lunch. Let's get this operation cookin’!

Will: I’ll be damned.

Pope: Told you we wouldn’t be pimping her out, Will.

***

Frankie lays on his back and watches the fan blades spin above him. The room is still stuffy as the hot air inside is only being pushed around. It makes him ache to be in a helicopter again. To feel the bone chilling air right as he climbs into the cockpit before a mission. He never felt cramped when he was in the air. Not like he does now on the ground.

He tries to pick a singular blade and count how many times it can circle the base of the fan in a minute, but he keeps getting distracted. You keep distracting him. He never manages to make it past 15 before you pop into his mind. Your melodic laugh, the way you furrow your eyebrows when you think, how it took you 30 minutes to pick one item off the menu at breakfast. He wonders how you’re spending your Thursday night. Guilt creeps in when he realizes how deeply you consume his thoughts. Although he doesn’t know if that guilt stems from the fact that he’s thinking of you while he lies next to Rochelle in her bed or because he didn’t feel guilty at all until he remembered she was there in the first place. What he does know is that he wouldn’t feel as cramped and lonely as he does right now if you were with him. You could have your limbs wrapped around him as tight as could be and he would still beg you to squeeze harder.

He turns his attention to the woman laying next to him when she breathes out deeply. She looks so much different in sleep. Her harsh features have softened. Her brows are relaxed and her lips aren’t contorted into a perpetual scowl. She looks, he thinks, kind. As if she is completely incapable of being the person that has wreaked so much havoc and heartache onto his life. She looks like someone who would want to be held as she slept. Someone who would want their lover to pull them in close and whisper sweet nothings in their ear that would be kept secret by the darkness of the night. Unfortunately, that wasn’t who she was. Rochelle never wanted Frankie to be affectionate with her unless she initiated it or when they were going to have sex. Even then she would groan in annoyance when he took too long kissing or going down on her.

“Just fuck me already.”

Although he would never admit it, he craved that intimacy. That closeness with his partner. He loved having his hands constantly on the woman he was with. It kept him calm knowing that she was close to him. He noticed that he also had less nightmares on the rare occasions Rochelle would allow him to hold her while they slept. She stirs slightly and rolls over so her back is facing him.

“God, what the fuck am I even doing here?” He whispers up to the fan blades.

He hated himself for winding up back in her bed. They haven’t officially gotten back together, but this is how it always started. She would slither back into his life and he would trip over her and fall right into her trap. It made him even angrier than he knew how she worked and he still wound up here. Yet, it’s so easy to slip into a routine you already know no matter how toxic it may be. The ball is still technically in his court. He still hasn’t given her an answer about the status of their relationship. He hasn’t completely sunk beneath the waves yet. He needs to remind himself that history doesn’t equate to longevity. He wants quality over quantity now.

The dinging of his phone pulls him from his thoughts. It’s a message from Benny in their group chat.

Benny: Sorry for the late message, but I’ve been doing some thinkin’. Since our girl has been here for a month I think we should celebrate. I know she wouldn’t want anything over the top, so maybe The Barrel this Saturday? Y’all down for that?

Pope: It’s about damn time she came out with us. I think I’m free then too.

Will: Benny, I’m literally awake in the next room. You could have just come and told me about your plan.

Benny: Text is easier. I don’t have to get out of bed this way.

Will: She definitely deserves more than a few rounds since she has had to deal with you for a month straight. I’m surprised you haven’t scared her off.

Pope: Same here. I would have run for the hills by now if I were her.

Frankie: Yeah I’m down too. Will and Pope can carpool with me and we can meet y’all after closing time.

Benny: Sounds good! See y’all then!

“Who was that, baby?” A sleep riddled voice asks behind his shoulder.

He feels his body recoil at the pet name. A pet name he once had to beg her to call him. Something to make him believe that what they had was good and sweet. How could something he longed for sound like nails on a chalkboard now?

“Just the guys. Go back to bed, Rochelle.”

Frankie falls asleep wondering if he will get the privilege of sitting next to you at the bar.

***

“I already said that I would come tonight, Benny! You didn’t have to keep asking every hour of the day.”

If you were being honest it was getting on your nerves. He told you last night that you absolutely, without a doubt, had to come to The Barrel on Saturday after work. You knew that you had been pushing it off so you conceded. You just wished Benny would get that through his thick skull. Although, having someone that invested in you is foreign so you put your annoyance out of your mind and focus on the good.

“I know. I know. I just want to make sure everything goes perfect. You told your dad that you wouldn’t be comin’ tonight?”

“Yes! I did everything you asked! I don’t know why you’re so worked up. We are just going across the street to get a drink after work.”

“I just want to make sure.”

“Aww!” You pinch his cheek as he waits with you in the laundry room. “Does Benny have a crush on me?”

“You wish you could get in on all this!” He flexes his left arm and blows a kiss at you with his right.

“Fuck off!” You shove him out of the room. “If you want to go get a drink you better leave me alone so I can put this load in the dryer. Long gone are the days of leaving wet towels to sit overnight at Brass Knuckles.”

“That’s why I love ya’!” He pokes his head back and kisses your cheek. A lovely juxtaposition to what you just did to him. “I’ll head over there and get us a table. Meet me there after you lock up?”

“If you’re lucky, Miller.”

Shortly after Benny bounds gleefully out of the gym, the washer announces that it’s finished. You hum to yourself as you toss the damp towels into the dryer and press start. It’s all a breeze from there. You collect your things from the desk, turn off the building's lights, and lock the front door. That’s funny you think my bag feels lighter than usual.

The night air is hot, but not uncomfortably so, as you walk across the street to The Barrel. The soft glow from the sign acts as your north star. You can hear how packed it is even before you swing the door open. How are you going to find Benny through all these people? Your eyes survey the room as you make your way through the crowd. A hand shoots up in the back and starts waving frantically at you. As you slip through more people you finally reach the clearing. It was all of them. All of the guys were waiting for you at a quaint table in the back.

“Happy one month!” They say in unison and raise their glasses.

“Oh my-”

You’re so starstruck that you can’t speak. They all beam as you make your way to the table and to the only empty chair. The one that sandwiches you right in between Pope and Frankie.

“Is this seat taken?”

“It is now.” The man with soft curls responds warmly.

“Are you surprised?! Did we get you?!” Benny can hardly sit still in his chair.

“Yes,” Your cheeks are going to be sore from smiling in the morning. “Y’all got me good. I can’t believe y’all remembered.”

“Of course we did, hon.” Will’s voice acts as a beacon of calmness in the bar’s chaos. “The gym was close to burnin' down before you showed up and saved it. Brightened our lives in the process whether you know it or not too.”

“Will…” Tears threaten to trickle down your face.

“It was not!” Benny bites back at his brother. “But, I am happy you called about my ad.”

“Cheers to you, hermosa!” Pope slides a bottle over to you. “Welcome to the group.”

As you raise your glass to clink with all of theirs, you look at each and every one of them. The genuine care they all have for you sprinkles your skin like a light summer shower. The kind of rain where it’s so soft that you don’t even realize you’re soaked to the bone until you reach your destination. It just kinda sneaks up on you. That’s exactly what they did and you couldn’t have been more grateful.

“Okay I need y’all to indulge me for a few minutes.” It’s somehow already 1:00 in the morning and you’ve lost count of how much you have had to drink. “I’ve been trying to figure out what each of y’all’s individual signs are and I think I finally cracked it.”

“Like our call signs?” Frankie’s shoulder presses up against yours when he leans into talk. You hope he doesn’t catch the way your breath hitches.

“You mean y’alls call signs. I still haven’t gotten mine.”

“You’re always going to be Brass Knuckles to me, Benny.” You offer to the man across from you. “But no, not y’alls call signs, I already know those. I mean your star signs.”

“Oh, shit! I was hooking up with a girl once that was really into all that mumbo jumbo!” Pope sounds even more excited than you do. “I already know these carbrons don’t know what they are. Google y’all’s birthdays and find out what it is.”

Once each of them confirms that they know, you crack your knuckles and pray that you have guessed correctly.

“I’ll start with you, Santi.” Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it's because you truly feel like his friend that you use his first name. “I think you’re a libra because you’re charismatic, you’re tactful-”

“You better stop before I fall in love with you.” He taunts.

“And you’re a whore.” The entire table erupts into boisterous laughter. “I didn’t need the stars to tell me that though.”

Next you move your blurry vision to Will.

“I think you’re a cancer. You’re someone who cares deeply about the people that are close to you. You always want to know how others are feeling, but ironically, you tend to keep your own emotions locked away. You think you will be a burden if you share them, but you won’t, I promise.”

“You hired a witch to work for you, Benny.” He brings his drink to his lips, but his eyes stay playfully trained on you.

“Do me next! Do me!”

“Alright, Benny. I think you’re a sagittarius. You have an enthusiastic love for life and adventure alike. You always lift the mood of the room when you walk into it. The life of the party if you will.”

“Freaky.” He whispers to himself.

You turn your attention to the man you have been most excited to talk about. “And last, but certainly not least: Frankie.” You are too drunk to notice the hush that has fallen over the group as you rest your hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re a taurus. You’re very hard working, a loyal and faithful friend, and you love physical affection.”

It takes Benny choking on his beer at your last comment to shake you from your trance. You slide your hand off Frankie's shoulder and turn back to the group.

“So…was I right?” Everyone is looking at you with wide eyes and open jaws. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Benny spends the next few minutes drunkenly pleading with you to tell him more about himself and his future.

“I’m not an oracle, you know. I just observe people and their actions and try to figure them out.”

“Well,” Pope arrives back at the table with the last round of the night. “Tell us what you have observed about Fish.”

“No, you don’t have to do that.” Frankie says shyly.

The alcohol in your bloodstream has made you more confident. “I want to.”

“Let the woman work, man.” Pope slides him a beer.

“You tend to be the glue of the friend group. A man with a hard exterior, yet a soft interior. While you'd never say it outloud, you enjoy taking care of people. You find it gratifying and it gives you a sense of purpose.” You have to stop to get your bearings for a second and acknowledge that maybe you shouldn’t have had that last drink. “Maybe that’s because you served or maybe that's just in your nature. I haven’t figured that out yet, but I’m working on it.”

Frankie hides his face with the bill of his hat, but everyone knows he's smiling under there.

Pope reaches behind you and claps his friend on the back. “Está escrito en las estrellas, hermano.”

As the bartender announces the last call, your group takes that as the cue to head home. Benny is more trashed than anyone realizes so Will says he will take him back home. He wrangles Benny’s keys away from him so he can use his car to drive them both. You were in no state to drive either and were too far gone to feel any embarrassment as the two men left point that out. With Pope grabbing your tote bag and Frankie grabbing your hand, the three of you walk to his truck.

“Come on,” Frankie helps you into the passenger seat while a very annoyed Pope gets into the backseat. “I’ll take you home.”

You can only mumble out a small ‘mmm’ to him because your body has become heavy with sleep. He takes it upon himself to gently buckle you into your seat. As he leans over to click it into place he gets a whiff of your perfume. It’s more muted now since the day is over, but it’s still just as potent to him as the second you put it on this morning. After he finishes, he hops down and closes the passenger door.

“He’s so nice to me.” You whisper to Pope in the backseat before you drift off.

“You have no idea. I just hope you remember when you wake up.”

Frankie climbs into his seat and cranks up the car. Both men opt to listen to the quiet sounds of the tires on the road instead of the radio for fear that it will wake you up. He pulls into your apartment complex and parks as gently as he can.

“Grab her keys from her bag, would you?” Frankie asks. He keeps his eyes on you while Pope looks. You look just as sweet in sleep as you do awake, he thinks. You really were as lovely as he thought you were.

“Uhhh, Catfish?”

“What?”

“She only has keys for the gym in here. I can’t find her apartment keys.” He hears Pope laugh dryly in the back seat. “I couldn’t have planned something more perfect if I tried.”

“What are you going on about?”

“The way I see it you have two choices. Choice one is to wake her up and ask her where her keys are.”

“I’m not going to wake her up, Pope. Mirar, solo mírala.”

“Choice two is to let her crash at your place tonight.”

They both look at you, sound asleep and ignorant about the current situation.

“I don’t know, man.” Frankie looks over his shoulder at his friend. “I don’t want her to wake up and think I kidnapped her or something. Won’t that be scary for her to wake up in a place that she has never been before?”

“It beats the hell out of waking up in the morning outside of her own front door.”

He knows his friend is right, but he’s still hesitant as to how you will react when you wake up. Reluctantly, he puts his truck in reverse and heads for Pope’s house.

***

Unlocking his front door while he has you in his arms bridal style proves a lot more difficult than he originally anticipated. Yet, he would do it a million times over if it meant that he got to hold you this close. When he finally gets inside he closes the door with his foot and heads straight for his bedroom. There was no question about it, he was going to sleep on the couch and you were going to get his bed. He walks into his room and leaves the door open so the hallway light can spill inside. Thankfully he didn’t make his bed this morning so the covers were already pulled back enough. He sets you down on the mattress like you were made of glass; one wrong move by him and you would shatter into a million pieces. A small cry escapes you when his body is no longer touching yours. He wants to capture that sound and keep it locked away in his heart. Before he tucks you in, he carefully unties your shoes and sets them down beside the nightstand so you will see them in the morning. He brings the covers up so that they rest just below your chin. Despite his initial hesitation to bring you back home with him, he can’t help but feel that you look perfectly in place in his bed. He kneels down next to you and tucks a rogue strand of hair back behind your ear. You unconsciously lean into his touch, seeking the warmth he provides. His lips find a home on your forehead and he whispers to you before he gets up to leave.

“Sweet dreams…mi estrella.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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