#But the way she treats other women is wrong and it should be said | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

awakenedevildays · 8 months ago

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「quarrels and sofas」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

TW: angst, smut (minors DNI), fighting, jealousy, insecurities

you can read the other parts here!

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Art knew it was a terrible idea to properly introduce you to Patrick right away, from the moment he saw how his best friend looked at you up and down he knew he was in for troubles. Even more when Patrick "kindly" offered to teach you how to play tennis while "your boyfriend was busy".

You agreed happily almost immediately: with Tashi busy with her professional tennis career, and you with yours, you didn't have much time to see each other, and when you did you tried to disconnect from your jobs by doing other things and that resulted in not playing that much anymore, expect with Art sometimes.

"your girlfriend is really cute by the way, how come I didn't realize it when we met her years ago" he teased Art after you excused yourself to go to the bathroom of the restaurant.

Art knew where the conversation was going, but decided not to respond to his best friend's taunts "you didn't realize she was cute? It's your bad I guess" he replied in a snarky way, his fingers playing with his glass "besides, she's been cute since forever, what are you even talking about?" Art asked.

Patrick snickered a little at Art's response, taking a sip of his glass while he kept his eyes on him.

"Oh don't play dumb with me. She's always been on the cute side, but come on... she's seriously gorgeous now. You're so lucky and you don't even realize it" he replied back, a mischievous grin on his face growing as he continued to tease Art.

Art felt anger rise in his body, why did he always feel like he had to compete against Patrick?

Patrick could feel the tension between them and continued to push further "You should be glad she's still loyal to you. She could easily leave your ass if she wanted to, bet she has tons of men after her" he kept going with a smug smile, knowing fully well he was pushing Art to his limit.

"Yeah well, unlike you I know how to treat my girlfriend right" he bit back, his smile growing.

Patrick's smile faded a little at the reference to his past relationship with Tashi, but he quickly regained his composure and a smirk formed on his lips "Oh please, I know how to treat women just fine. Tashi simply just couldn't handle me" he said with a laugh, trying to brush off the topic.

Art's frowned his eyebrows in fake confusion, his smile turning into a thin line "Oh... my bad, I heard it went differently, from what I know.. it was you who couldn't keep up with her".

Patrick raised an eyebrow at Art's response, his smirk faltering slightly as he tried to keep his cool.

"You've heard wrong then. It was Tashi who couldn't handle my life as a successful businessman." he retorted with a hint of defensiveness in his voice, trying to deflect the truth with arrogance.

Art was going to answer but a voice interrupted him "excuse me, I'll leave you the bill" the waitress said leaving the small receipt holder on the table, both men smiled as she walked away.

Art took his wallet to pay and Patrick didn't bother to stop the blond as he slid the money inside of the card holder before leaving it on the table for the waitress to take.

Then, Art takes a sip of his beer, his eyes never leaving Patrick's "stay away from her Patrick, I mean it" he warned.

Patrick rolled his eyes at Art's warning "Oh, come on Art. I'm just being friendly. What's the harm in that?" he replied with a smirk, clearly not taking him seriously.

"I know what you're trying to do, I know you".

Patrick leaned back in his seat, his smirk widening at Art's accusation. "And what exactly do you know, Art?" he asked with feigned innocence, though his eyes gleamed with mischievous intent.

"I know you can't stand seeing me happy while you're not" he replied immediately and Patrick couldn't help but scoff at Art's words.

"Oh please, I'm perfectly happy in my single life. I don't need a relationship to make me happy" he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand, though there's a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Art leans on his chair "sure you don't, but don't try to ruin mine too" his smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Ruin your relationship? Who said anything about ruining your relationship?" Patrick asked with a hint of sarcasm, feigning innocence once again. "I'm just being friendly, Art. I don't have any ulterior motives" he added, maintaining his smile but his eyes betrayed his true intentions.

Before Art could answer you are next to him again "sorry, what did I miss?" you asked innocently, Art's arm wrapped around your shoulder while his other hand takes your fingers in his to play with them.

Patrick's gaze flickered from you to Art, observing the two of you with a subtle feeling of irritation before he plastered a charming smile on his face. "Ah, nothing much. We were just catching up, talking about old times" he replied smoothly, though his gaze lingered on your hand enclosed in Art's, a flicker of envy in his eyes. Art looked at you and smiled, "nothing important" he said, brushing off the conversation to shift his focus back to you.

"we should go baby, we have to wake up early tomorrow" Art stood up, you mimic his action.

"Oh yeah, that's right" you said, slightly puzzled but you quickly brushed it off and leaned into Art's side, giving him a soft smile. Patrick watched the two of you raise from your seats, his smile still on his face "alright then, it was nice catching up" he said standing up as well, giving Art a nod before his gaze went back to you. "It was really nice to see you again" he added, his voice carrying a hint of flirtation you didn’t seem to notice, but Art did.

"It was nice seeing you too Patrick, I'll text you for that tennis lesson, ok?" Patrick briefly looked at Art and smiled "can't wait, good night".

Art's grip on you tightened momentarily, his expression tense but he quickly regained his composure to give Patrick a curt nod in return. "Good night" he replied shortly before leading you out of the restaurant, his arm remained protectively around your shoulders.

Now, a few weeks later, Art leans with crossed arms at the doorframe and watches you getting ready for bed. He can't stop thinking how Patrick looked at you during that dinner and he can't imagine what his eyes saw while you played together, how he probably glanced at your legs and checked you out.

"So how was your match with Patrick?" He hopes you don't hear the jealousy out of his voice.

"it was good, how was your day baby?" you decide to ignore his jealous tone, you kiss his lips when you pass by him to go to the bathroom.

He kisses you back, smiling when your lips touched his but he can't help thinking of Patrick right now.

"My day was good," he says "what did you and Patrick do after your practice?" He asks while he changes from his jeans to a jogging pants.

"he gave me a ride here" you shrug.

He tries to hold a neutral mimic by hearing that but his jealousy is too much to not say anything about it.

"I could've picked you up, baby" he tells you while he sits down on your bed waiting for you to finish brushing your teeth.

"I didn't want to bother you, and we were already together" you explain to calm him down but it's not working as you hoped it would.

You can see his knuckles turning white "it's not about bothering me. It's about you and Patrick together, alone. I don't like him".

You look at him shocked "what do you mean? he is your best friend Art" you exclaim incredulous.

"he just has a thing for you and it's obvious and I don't like it" It's like you can touch his anger, it's filling the whole room.

He can't stop imagining how Patrick might have touched you when he wasn't there, how he looked at you... just thinking that he might have looked at you the same way he did during the dinner is making him crazy.

"I don't want you to see him anymore" he states and his arms cross in front of his chest and you scoff.

"you're being ridiculous Art, he didn't try to do anything" you say and finally look at him from the bathroom.

He starts to raise his voice and you can see the veins on his forehead throbbing "don't you see he has a thing for you?! You think he's such a good friend helping you play better? He doesn't give a damn about that, and you're just too naive to see that. He's just waiting for a chance to be with you" he snaps and stands from the bed.

"I'm sorry are you trying to say I'm cheating on you?" you ask and you really hope he's going to deny it.

"I'm saying I'm tired of seeing you give attention to every single male that flirts with you, I mean how much attention do you need, are you really that desperate?" he snaps and immediately regrets what he just said, your hurt expression makes him shut his mouth.

He sighs and walks towards you, but just as he arrives in front of you take a step back, tears swelling in your eyes and Art's heart clenches in his chest.

How can he explain to you that there is a voice in his head that tells him, every time you look at him, that he doesn't deserve you? that you could find someone better than him? that what Patrick had told him had affected him more than he wants to admit and that he is as terrified of losing you as he is terrified of few other things in the world?

"you're being unfair Art, you know I didn't cheat on you" you defend yourself but your voice tremble and it's difficult for Art to hear you.

"I know, I'm sor-" but you don't listen to him.

"I never, ever, gave you a reason not to trust me," your voice raises, you feel so hurt by him right now, you thought his trust in you was stronger than this.

"I know, I'm sorry you're right, it's just that... Patrick told me some thing last time at dinner and insecurities got the best of me! I'm sorry, I really am baby, its just that..." he tries to explain what he is feeling "every time I look at you I always think you are too much for me, that you could find someone better than me and that you could leave me at any given moment, I love you so much it makes me crazy... Please forgive me" he takes your face in his hands but you don't look at him, you can't bring yourself to feel sorry for him right now, you're way more hurt than he is.

"but this is not the right way to show me Art, what you are saying it's unfair, I never, ever gave you a reason to doubt my loyalty towards you and our relationship" you take his hands off of your face.

You are right, he knows you are, but his thoughts just won him over this time. He gently pulls you closer by wrapping his arms around your waist, he starts kissing you on your jawline and down your neck but you don't hug him back.

"I..am so sorry baby. You have every right to feel hurt by what I just said and did. Please forgive me, I really am sorry, look we're both tired, can we go to sleep? we'll talk about this tomorrow morning, how does that sound?" he gives you a small smile in hope to soothe you but you avoid his gaze and he realizes he had said too much this time, he swallows the lump forming in his throat.

"I'm sorry, I truly mean it" he whispers with a gentle voice. All he wants to do now is to kiss your pain away, but he know you won't let him this time.

"I think I'll sleep on the couch tonight" you say and slip past him out of the bathroom and the bedroom.

He watches you leave the bathroom and the bedroom with his heart racing like crazy. You are going to sleep on the couch? No. No way. It hurt knowing that he made you feel bad enough that you would sleep on the couch instead of in your bed with him. His legs moves on his own and he follows you out of the bedroom before grabbing your wrists and pulling you close to him. "Baby please, don't sleep on the couch" he pleads and tries to press you against his body.

"Art I don't want to be close to you right now, I really need space to think" you pull your wrist back and Art feels his heart sink at your words as his head starts spinning.

He tries to blink away the tears that were in the corner of his eyes, but he can't. So his hands slowly lets go of your wrists and he takes a step back. "Okay. If you want space then I will give you the space you need", he says with a cracked voice and looks down at his empty hands.

You smile weakly "thank you, night Art" but before you can turn again he surpasses you to sit on the couch before you can reach it "I'll sleep here baby, you take the bed" he says and lays there, his eyes never leaving your figure and the way he is looking at you makes you feel so damn guilty even though he is the one at fault.

You open your mouth to speak but nothing you think seems appropriate, you reclutantly nod and turn around to go back to the bedroom.

He watches you disappear in the dark bedroom. His thoughts are racing. The guilt that was already so heavy on his soul is getting heavier every second. But he knows that you need space now after what he said to you. The only thing that he can do now is to pray that in the morning everything will go back to being alright. So that's what he did before falling asleep after a long time of just simply staring at the ceiling.

You hand caressing his cheek softly stirs Art awake the next morning.

You can feel the you man’s body tensing up at first at the soft touch of your hand on his cheek, but he quickly melts into it. The warm feeling of your hand on his skin makes his heart flutter and he slowly opens his eyes to look at you. "Baby?" he whispers still sleepy from what you assumed was a bad night on the couch.

"Hi" you murmur and his hand come to rest on yours still on his cheek "I made breakfast, would you like to join me?" if it wasn't for the fact that Art slept on the couch and his burning eyes he would've thought that what happened yesterday was just a bad dream.

Art is confused, he is afraid to speak and ruin this moment, to push you away once and for all and lose you forever "Yeah I would love to".

You gave him a small smile before making your way to the kitchen and Art follows behind you. He still seems exhausted as if he barely got any sleep last night. His heart sinks once his eyes lands on the table. You made his favourite pancakes with maple syrup, but in contrast to all the other days you didn't made coffee this time, only milk.

You sit on your place but Art stands awkwardly at the doorframe as if he needs your permission to approach you. So you give it to him.

The both of you eat the food in silence. Art doesn't dare to say a word the whole time, the only thing that he can't stop doing is stealing a look at you every now and then when he believes that you won't notice it. He can't get over the fact that you were so kind and cooked him his favourite meal after what happened last night. But his heart stops when you suddenly put down your fork and clear your throat. He was so nervous that he can already feel the lump in his throat building up.

"I think we should talk about yesterday Art"

His heart is beating out of his chest the second he hears that dreaded sentence. The dreaded talk. The talk that would surely decide how everything is going to be between you two from this point. He swallows loudly before nodding his head. "Okay. Baby, listen I-" his voice cracks and he feels pathetic, if only his voice stopped him from speaking yesterday he wouldn't find himself in this position now.

The second he sees your hand going up to stop his rambling, he immediately shuts up and swallows hard again. The tension in the room is so thick it could be cut trough with a knife. He has no idea what to do or how to start this conversation, so he looks at you with his thoughts racing in his head and fear building up more and more.

"I'll talk first"

He felt the lump in his throat growing thicker, but he nods once to show you that he is listening. "Go ahead," and you nod.

"what happened yesterday was not okay Art, I'm sorry that you feel so insecure of our relationship but you have to talk to me about these things and not accuse me of things I never did and never will"

Art takes a shaky breath at your words. Everything that you said makes sense and he knows it. He should have talked about his insecurities and doubts, but instead he lashed his pain out on you. He feels so stupid right know.

"You're right. You're right. I'm sorry for what I said and did yesterday", he mumbles while he reaches for your hand to hold it. "I just..I don't know what got into me, but I promise I will never do this ever again".

"I'm not done" you say but take his hands in yours to reassure him.

He swallows hard as you tell him that you aren't done. So he sits there still, not moving a muscle but also not letting go off your hands while he waits for you to continue. His heart is beating in his chest so fast it feels like it could explode any second.

"If you really think that Patrick is flirting with me, I'll keep him away from me... from us. I don't want to know what he told you that night, I don't care, but I need you to know that I love you, I'll always love you and only you, nothing will change that and I will never cheat on you, and I won't tolerate you behaving or accusing me like you did yesterday".

Your words hit Art in the heart. He squeezes your hand a bit to show his affection and he nods "I know, I know that you love me and only me and that I'm an idiot for ever doubting that. And I love you too. More than anything. I'll try and work on my self doubt and my stupid insecurities. I'm sorry." He can't believe that you are still sitting in the same room with him.

You get up from your chair and sit on his legs, your hands go to his cheeks and you can feel his breath hitch as he hurriedly wraps one arm around you. Slowly he starts to press his cheek into your hand, he loves feeling your touch on him and he lets his eyes slowly close.

"is Patrick really the only thing that is bothering you?".

Art hums softly as he gives your question a real thought. Is it really the only thing that is bothering him?

He slowly opens his eyes and looks at you when he realizes that there is one more thing that made him jealous when he thought about it. "It isn't only Patrick..." he mumbled.

"what is it then?"

"It's you" he says truthfully "It's you and how many people find you attractive. Everywhere you go there are so many guys checking you out. I know that they're no threat to our relationship, but everytime I see them looking at you I can't help but wish sometimes to have you all for myself".

"it's your fault for choosing a hot girl as your partner" you joke to lighten the mood.

Art chuckles softly at your joke. He can feel the corner of his lips slowly twitching upwards to a smirk at your words. It's just like you to try and lighten up the mood and he loved that about you.

"That's not fair" he mumbled against your palm before he leaned in to press a soft kiss onto it.

"you think I don't feel the same about you? everywhere we go there is always some girls making heart eyes at you and it makes me crazy, have you ever noticed them?" he shakes his head, he never sees them, he only has eyes for you, "and in the exact same way I don't see any other guys that is not you." he blushes and you kiss the corner of his mouth "the fact that I am insecure as you are about other people finding you attractive doesn't mean I get insecure of your love for me or of our relationship, and you shouldn't either" you flick his forehead

At this point he is simply stunned by what you said and you could literally see on his face, so you are jealous of him too?

Art doesn't know what to say at first so the only thing that he does is to tighten his grip on your waist while his cheeks slowly turns red. "I..I thought you didn't feel the same about..you know..." He trails off when he realized that there aren't any words that can express what is on his mind.

"about other girls finding you pretty?"

Art slowly nods his head. "Yeah..I guess so" he mumbles and looks down at his lap, embarrassed that he has those thoughts and doubts. "I just thought that it didn't bother you cause you never said anything. I thought I was being crazy" he mumbled and looked up at you with guilty eyes.

"I should've express my feeling about it sooner, maybe you wouldn't have felt this way about Patrick"

"Maybe..." he mumbles while he slides his arm from your waist and gently brushes some loose hair behind your ear "I'm sorry for what I said about you and Patrick baby...I'm so sorry"

"I know you are... I'm sorry too" you murmur

His eyes widens slightly and his head snaps up so that he can look at you. "What are you sorry about, sweetheart. You didn't do anything wrong" his thumb gently brushes over the skin on your cheek.

"about not expressing my insecurity sooner, for making you feel alone in this, we both could have handled this situation better" his heart starts racing in his chest when you lean into his hand and softly press your lips onto it. A small sigh escapes his lips while he keeps his eyes on you "I guess we both have to work on sharing our insecurities baby. Let's not keep anything from each other, alright?"

"sounds like a great deal to me" you whisper and kiss him softly on the lips and he comes alive under you.

He immediately leans into the kiss and presses his lips back onto yours. He feels like all the tension between you is slowly fading out and he cups your face with his hands to pull you closer.

He can't get enough of the taste of your lips. The way you are sitting on his lap kissing him passionately feels so right. It takes all his willpower to slow down the kiss and pull away from you to breath for a moment. His thumb gently caress your cheeks, while he watches you, flushed and looking absolutely wrecked.

You climb off his lap just to straddle him and rejoin your lips together, his hands fly to your hip to pull you closer. The feeling of your body pressed against his makes him groan and his eyes flutters for a moment, before he deepens the kiss again. His tongue licks across your bottom lip and he gently nips on it with his teeth.

you moan and grind your hips on his, the only things keeping your body separate are your short nightgown and his jogging pants.

A breathy moan escapes his lips at the feeling of your hips grinding on him in such a sweet torture. He pulls you even closer if that's even possible and his fingers digs into the skin on your sides to hold you in place while his hips starts to move on their own. "Baby.." he gasps against your lips at the delicious friction of your bodies, he can't handle how hot you look on his lap.

"I need you Art, please"

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The second those needy words leave your lips something inside him snaps. The way you beg him makes him feel like he could explode in any second. "God, I love you" He gasps and pulls his lips from yours just to shower kisses along your jaw. "I need you too, baby." He moans against your skin and his hips rocks upwards to meet your movements.

you grind your hips on his again and again in circolar motions, his lips goes to your neck and lightly suck on it and his hands on your ass to help your movements. Your hands instead goes to raise his shirt to take it off and Art leans back against the chair to help you before going back to the same position as before.

Art groans in anticipation when you start to pull off his shirt that reveals his pale chest and abs to you. He shivers slightly when your hands roams over his bare skin and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He leaves wet kisses on your skin while he let his fingers sneak under the hemline of your nightgown to feel your skin.

you take off your nightgown and throw it on the floor with his shirt before raising your hips to slide off his pants and boxer

While you take the rest of your clothes off he can't stop himself from watching you. You look so divine and beautiful while undressing in front of him that he has to swallow hard and bite his lips at the sight of your body. After all this time you can still make his mind blank and speechless with your beauty. Slowly his hands roams up your thighs and over the skin on your hips while his eyes looks up at you, completely mesmerised.

"you look so beautiful baby" he says while you slid your panties to the side and sink down on his member, you let out a moan.

He keeps his eyes on you while you slowly let yourself sink down on him, his fingers gently grabbing at your hips to help you, while he feels himself becoming consumed in the feeling of you. "You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen" he manages to gasp before slowly kissing your lips. It felt like his mind was blank as he could only focus on every single sensation that you make him feel.

His breath hitches at the feeling of your insides wrapped around him and a moan escapes his lips in between the kisses. Art can't even concentrate on anything in this moment apart from you. He starts to move his hips in a steady rhythm with you in his lap.

"fuck, you feel so good baby, I love you" he moans and picks you up, a yelp come out of your mouth and your body trembles in his arms as his member slides deeper than before.

He picks up the pace when he hears you moan out loud, his mind completely blissed out at the feeling of himself buried inside of you while he continues to kiss you everywhere he can reach.

His idea was to take you in your bedroom but you feel too good and his legs tremble from the pleasure, so he has no choice but to sit you on the table, him between your legs as he pick up his pace.

A surprised gasp escapes your mouth at the change of positions. He spreads your thighs further apart and his hips snaps against you and a groan escapes his lips.

You bring his face to yours and kiss him deeply, your tongues intertwined and your hands slide to his shoulders to dig your nails there and Art moans at the pain mixed with pleasure, one of his supports his weight off of you by resting on the table and the other finds your clit to rub it in circular motions to stimulate you further.

He moans into your mouth the second your tongue finds its way to his and his body presses against you while he does so. That action alone causes him to be deeper inside you and his eyes flutters close despite his best efforts to keep them open to look at you.

"Art- fuck" you moan and tremble against him, your chests pressed together before you let yourself lay against the table completely

He stands back to look at your spread out body, you look so beautiful that it almost physically hurts him, he gets out of you to turn you around, you whine in response but lay against the table again without much struggle, he slips inside of you again

His pace now is slow and he stops your hips as they try to meet his, you whine in protest

"Art please... go faster" you look back at him, your eyes pleading while your elbows support your weight, he lowers himself until his chest is pressed against your back and his mouth is close to you left ear "tell me you are mine" he orders while he bottoms out inside of you.

The way he says that in your ear combined with how deep he is inside of you makes you whimper and shiver runs down your back. "I'm yours" you breathe and your eyes flutter by the feeling of him pressed so close against you. You feel like you're being wrapped up in Art and that feeling alone makes you feel so loved "I'm all yours, please..."

"I swear I'm only yours Art" you say again and his right arm goes around your neck while he brings you up with him in a straight position.

His hand tightens around your neck, making sure the pressure is light as his other hand slips around your stomach to hold you up against him. He then starts to move inside you with slow even strokes. "That's right you're mine..." he groans into your ear, "I love you so much..."

The new position makes his cock hit your cervix and you eyes gets watery from tears of pleasure, he picks up his pace "I'm going to cum Art"

"me too baby" his hands goes to your clit again and your walls spams around his shaft "can I cum inside of you?" you nod furiously and turn your head to kiss him, when you cum your mouths are still joined and he slides as deep as he can as he reaches his climax too, his mouth now on your left shoulder and your hands wraps around both of his wrists.

You stay still for a moment, your bodies joined together as your mouths lets out shaky laughs and breaths, he slide out of you delicately and turns you to sit you properly on the table again, his Hans on your thighs as they tremble.

Even in this moment you look the perfect combination of beautiful and wrecked to him. "I still can't believe how prefect you look all the time" he mumbles as he brushes some loose hair behind your ears softly.

You smile and pepper his face with sweet kisses that makes Art close his eyes in content, you slide off of the woodened forniture and take his hands in yours, "how about we take this to the bedroom, my love?"

He immediately nods in response and his eyes flutters when he feels your lips on his face. He feels like in this moment he could stand here and let you shower him with kisses forever. "Lead the way" he mumbles with a lazy tired smile on his face, his eyes follows you while you make your way to the bedroom.

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do not copy or repost.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson fluff #challengers fic #challengers #art donaldson

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maidenvault · 7 months ago

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The red flags are so blatant in what we see of Mother Aniseya’s coven, is it not registering for anyone else that Sol got too emotionally involved but his instincts might have been correct?

Mae and Osha don’t know anyone but this small community. No other children, no friends. Apparently they’re not even supposed to venture outside by themselves. They don’t have their own lives, brought up to basically think of themselves as one person.

Aniseya’s the only one who truly loves them and cares about Osha’s feelings. When everyone’s discussing her leaving, the others only talk about what it will mean for them and their future. They just want her power.

Aniseya singles out the youngest of the Jedi to control with her magic as a threat when they haven’t done anything hostile. It’s understandable they feel a bit threatened and I see why the Council says they overstepped, but Koril is ready from the time they show up to go to their camp and kill them all.

Why are they teaching the girls to fight like it’s so serious? If these women all just want to live here unbothered, what are they actually preparing them for? What was it going to mean when the ritual was completed with both of them, and was it going to do something irreversible?

Aniseya tells Osha that others don’t accept their ways so she wouldn’t like the outside world like she thinks. (A manipulation tactic in cults.) But with the Jedi’s perspective, it’s now clear everything they said when they interrupted the ceremony was basically a pretense for checking on the welfare of the girls and they don’t care about these witches practicing another Force-based religion or training kids. So if they’ve got this persecution complex it could certainly be because they’re actually doing something wrong. (Or just because they want to keep the power of this vergence all to themselves, all while saying they’re not like other girls 'cause to them the Force isn’t something you use or own.)

Most alarmingly once Aniseya’s dead, none of them try to get to the children in the burning building. They just keep attacking the Jedi for what they did.

Of course lots of viewers will say that many of these concerning things are problems with how the Jedi treat children, too. And that’s probably meant to be the point, that there are different ways of looking at it. But it’s telling how practically nobody’s even addressing them. This show certainly reads differently depending on the bias you come to it with.

And none of these things really give the Jedi the right to remove these children from their family. I don’t think Sol’s concern comes from nowhere, but whether Osha's safe here is a separate question from whether she should be a Jedi and not necessarily in their purview. But he’s not using clear judgment because of his feelings so he ends up just hurting Osha, surely worse than anything her own mother was going to put her through. Attachment is selfish love, it's not good actually!

#the acolyte #mother aniseya #osha aniseya #master sol #jedi order #star wars #meta #my meta

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imaginesmai · 1 year ago

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Missed target - Azriel

Here it is! So many people asked to be tagged on this I got OVERWHELMED. Thanks for the love!I'm thinking about a second part where Azriel decides to repeat all the missed efforts and treat you like the queen you are. Let me know what you think.

Plot: Azriel is convinced Elain was made for him. Three sisters for three brothers, and no one can make him change his mind. But someone or something is determinated to change the course of fate on his behalf. No matter how hard he tries.

The Suriel 1

The Suriel watched the shadowsinger sharpen his blades in the forest, oblivious to his presence. Not even his shadows could detect the ancient creature, and he was proud of that. Of all the beings that he had seen, all the people that had summoned him, Azriel was who drew his curiosity.

Maybe the male in front of him didn’t remember, or maybe he did but had decided not to tell a soul about it. The Suriel did remember, and he had been observing since that night where a young, scarred and devasted Azriel had summoned him.

“What is wrong with me? Why does nobody love me? I want to know – I want to know if someone will love me, please”

The child didn’t understand what a Suriel was, or what type of questions he could answer. Still, the Suriel held the sobbing kid for one night, just one night, and let himself wonder what would it be to feel, to dream, like fae and humans did.

Something changed in the male’s stance, a muscle twitching in his left wing, and the Suriel knew he didn’t have much time left before he was noticed. He risked another glance at the unmoving figure, shadows surrounding the clearing where he stood.

As he vanished from the sight, the Suriel smiled briefly, oddly happy that that kid’s broken questions were about to be answered.

Missed date

Azriel liked Elain, more than he should. He liked her innocence, the way her hair fell over her shoulder, her full lips and thin waist. He liked the dresses she wore and the flowers she grew, even the way her voice sounded when she said his name. He liked liked her, and felt like a foolish teen when she was around.

Rhysand had warned him against it, and the Archeron sister had a mate – but still, Azriel hoped Elain would like him back. Even though he had been with plenty of women before, that time it felt different, and he didn’t know why.

Ignoring the signs against his desires, he had decided to act on his feelings.

Azriel had invited Elain to have dinner with him that night, in a lovely restaurant in Velaris. Sure, he might have said Cassian and Nesta were coming, and then proceeded to invite the couple knowing they wouldn’t even make it out of the bedroom with their clothes on. The plan had gone just fine – Cassian and Nesta had talked about it during lunch time, giving the impression it was just a friendly dinner, and then proceeded to lock themselves in their room for the rest of the day. Elain had smiled and asked about the hour, and Azriel had chosen his best shirt.

But the Cauldron musth have had other plans, because another minute passed by and he was sitting by himself in the restaurant, getting strange looks from the staff.

“Are you ready to order?”

He looked up to the waiter, with a tight smile on his face. Azriel guessed they were debating if kicking him out was worth angering the spymaster of the court.

“Still waiting” he grumbled, looking to the closed doors. “What time is it?”

“Nine thirty, sir. Would you like to… drink something?”

“Water is fine”

They had agreed to meet at nine, and part of him refused to think he had been stood up. That sweet, charming Elain who blushed under his gaze wouldn’t show up. He tried to come up with a reason behind her absence, and was sure there was a reasonable one, but he felt his excitement die as the clock ticked away.

Azriel pursed his lips when the waiter didn’t leave, not meeting his eyes. He would leave, but he would wait a little longer. For her sake, he would wait until the sun came up. The male cleared his throat and Azriel stared at the plants decorating the entrance.

It was a nice plant.

“Is the person you’re waiting for coming soon?”

“If she was, I wouldn’t be waiting here” his words were bitter, not towards the waiter, but at the situation.

“Maybe you could move to the counter and wait there, sir? I… there are customers waiting and – “

Before the man could dig his own grave further, Azriel pushed his chair back and walked towards said counter with his jacket on his arm. He refused to look at the waiter and let him know just how embarrassed he was, how disappointed in himself and in her.

The restaurant had a small counter where some couples shared their food and friends drank loudly. He damned his luck for choosing the busiest day to be stood up. Scanning the crowd, he found an empty seat at the corner and sat on a stool, ordering a beer.

Alcohol would only make it worse, but he guessed he was already done for. Ten more minutes, he promised himself. If Elain didn’t walk through those doors in the next ten minutes, he would leave and apologize to Rhys for his stubbornness.

Two minutes passed by, and he grew sick of watching the couple in front of him giggling in secrets.

Another three, and he counted each plant that decorated the restaurant. There were twenty-five without the artificial ones.

Seven minutes after his first beer, the waiter asked him if he wanted anything else and he just growled back.

His fingers were clenching painfully around the hem of his jacket when the ten minutes passed by. He was ready to get up when something sweet and floral hit his nose, leaving his mind blank for a second. Azriel blinked surprised at the smell, distinct from the elegant ones in the restaurant. With half smile, he turned to his right hoping to see Elain, pleasantly surprised with her choice of perfume.

Only that the woman who sat next to him wasn’t Elain, but another fae woman with a similar smell. Azriel scanned her outfit before you noticed him, before he could reprimand himself for checking you out.

You were wearing a loose blue and bright skirt with an elegant top, that left part of your collarbone visible. He felt something rush to his chest up to his cheeks while he stared at the smooth skin, and he willed himself to look up to your face.

“Guess this is where they discard the stood up, hm?” you looked at him and he blinked surprised. “I’ve been sitting next to the window for an hour now. I don’t think he’s showing up”

“Who?” Azriel asked dumbly, not thinking anything better.

“My friend set me up on a blind date, but he didn’t show up. At least the bread was good” you shrugged, finally looking away from Azriel. “Hi. Can I get a soda?”

Azriel felt his previous resolution of leaving the restaurant dissolve. You smelt just like her, but so different at the same time. Your voice still reverberated on his chest as you waited for your drink, stealing glances at the silent male at your side. It was strange for him to have his throat swallowing back the words that he wanted to say, have his mind blank of any comeback.

But as he stared at you, he wondered if you were a witch and had casted a spell on him.

“Are you… my date?” you finally asked when your soda came back, looking him up and down. “I’ve seen you standing here for a while”

“I’m Azriel”

“I don’t know the name of my date” you stated, and Azriel just prayed that you wouldn’t notice the shadows he couldn’t control revolving around your feet. “I’m Y/N”

“No”

He begged himself to say something else, to break the awkward silence or leave. After all, he had gone to that restaurant to meet Elain, not a stranger who had been stood up. But all the wit and intelligence that had won him the title of Shadowsinger and Spymaster seemed to seep away through his pores, and he couldn’t get back any of it.

You smiled at him tightly and turned to look around, finally breaking eye contact. Azriel got up without saying anything else and walked towards the doors, leaving a generous amount of money on the counter. You didn’t say goodbye and he didn’t bother looking back, his body stiff with your awkward encounter.

When he arrived to the house, he found a very regretful and very sick Elain who had been in bed all afternoon. She apologized again and again until he forced her back in bed and tucked her in. They agreed they would repeat again, sometime, but Azriel found himself less excited than that morning. He didn’t blame her – he couldn’t, when he had seen how her knees trembled with coughs and had heard her stuffy voice.

As he laid down that night in this enormous bed, his shadows didn’t whisper about Elain or brought back her smell, that most nights didn’t let him sleep. They caressed his hands in silence, with the memory of a sweet, floral smell that didn’t belong to the girl he liked.

The market

Rhysand and Cassian were away for a week, and while Azriel usually missed his brothers, that time he was beyond himself. Not only he wouldn’t be hearing Nesta and Cassian’s late-night activities, but he would be alone with his favorite Archeron sister, since Feyre and Nesta had decided to leave too.

There were plans for them, big ideas that he had crafted the previous night as he laid awake in the dark. The first one, most important, would be to find an excuse to talk to Elain.

She had left for the market as Azriel completed his morning training, and the male didn’t miss how she blushed at his presence. She had explained briefly her plans to him and had left in a rush. Azriel, who religiously trained each day, decided to postpone his activities and refill the house’s pantry.

It took him a while to come up with something to buy, even longer to gather the courage to follow his plan. By the time he was walking through the lively market-street, he was certain Elain would be leaving.

But he was lucky, because he spotted the familiar head a few stands away. Azriel felt the usual acceleration of his heart rhythm, the blood rushing to his head. His wings fluttered and he walked with little decision to where Elain was buying some fruits.

It seemed, with so little decision, that she moved away before he could reach him.

The game of cat and mouse continued for what felt like forever, Azriel only sniffling her before she left to a new stand. The street seemed endless, and the buyers too talkative and pushy. They bumped against his wings, apologized, and proceeded to block his way in awe for five to ten seconds.

When he saw Elain holding enough bags to cause him a backpain, he decided pushing people in return was worthy and walked faster.

Before she could complain, he picked up her bags from her arms carefully, resisting the urge of flinching at how heavy they were.

“Here, let me” Azriel extended his free arm, watching without looking up as it filled slowly with more bags. “These are heavy. What do we need so much food for?”

“Are you planning to eat it with me?”

Azriel looked up and stared into a pair of bright eyes that certainly weren’t Elain’s. Nor was your hair pulled back in a ribbon, or the worn-out cape hanging from your frame. His shadows helpfully recognized you from the missed date and awkward encounter, and he blinked surprised.

He opened and closed his mouth. Proudly, he could argue that only few times someone managed to make him speechless. But he didn’t find anything to say as he held half of your bags, looking a caught thief.

Your smile lowered at his surprise. Surely, you expected a kind stranger helping you with your heavy groceries, not him. Just as he didn’t expect you.

“Can I… have that back?” you asked when he didn’t move, only stared at you. “Please?”

The standard, cordial reaction would have been to apologize and carry the bags for you. If Azriel’s brain hadn’t stopped functioning, he would have explained he had confused you with someone else and would be on his merry way to find Elain.

But his heart wouldn’t stop beating stubbornly against his chest, loudly on his ears. His shadows, that you had noticed by now, were tangling themselves between your knees, holding part of the weight themselves.

He tried not to make it too obvious when he inhaled your essence, so characteristically nice. Instead of doing any of the rational things, he dropped your bags to the ground with a loud crack and a wet splash and turned around, disappearing into the crowd.

The flowers

Feyre had given him the directions, and he had quickly written them on a piece of paper as his high-lady prepared Nyx’s bottle, cradled the fussy baby and ate her own breakfast.

He was extremely thankful for her help, because she had also had the idea to give Elain a bouquet of flowers. Azriel felt bad about ignoring her for the two days they were alone, too busy trying to regain what was left of his dignity after the market. So, he had prepared the flowers and put them together with a blue ribbon, and had asked Feyre where Elain was staying.

He had walked through the streets of Velaris with a content smile, humming to himself in silence. His shadows were active that morning, dancing between his feet and knees, and tangling themselves in the flowers. He couldn’t explain the sudden urge of joy if not for the imminent encounter with Elain, who had been on his mind for two days straight.

The rays of sun warmed his cheeks, and he felt extremely lucky.

It only took him ten minutes to reach his destination, a busy street in the center of the town. People sneaked glances at him and whispered, as if he wouldn’t hear them. Azriel stopped in front of a white wooden door. It looked old and worn, and matched the pots with flowers on the window. It was a cozy house, exactly what Azriel had imagined Elain’s house to be.

She had moved out a few months ago, claiming she needed her own space. And he had yet to visit her place – which, once he realized he was about to do it for the first time, made him kind of nervous.

Azriel stood in front of the door, his frame covering the whole space. Between his shoulders and wings he shadowed it, and he felt weirdly insecure. Something fell to the ground inside, probably a bag, and even though he knew Elain would be inside, Azriel recoiled back.

In a pathetic attempt to make his intention known, he raised his fist.

Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.

Don’t throw them on her like a burning pot.

Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.

Try to smile without looking creepy.

Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.

He heard soft humming from the inside, and the fact that it was the exact same melody he had been humming on his way there threatened to give him a heart attack. Before he could think better, he quickly searched his pocket for a pen while trashing for the tag of the bouquet.

In the meantime, he heard the humming coming closer and closer to the door. It was a sweet melody, one he had loved since he was a kid, that brought a selfish smile to his face. Who was the world to tell him they weren’t meant to be, if their minds aligned like that?

Azriel found the pen and, leaning against the brick wall, scribbled down a quick note on the tag. His handwritten was shaky, not neat nor perfect, and he felt a bead of sweat rolling down the corner of his neck.

Once he was finished, he tucked the tag between the stems and placed the bouquet delicately on the ground. He mentally kicked himself at his stupidity, and when he rose back, he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

He was the shadowsinger. The spymaster. People feared him, respected him, and he had had enough women in his bed to know he could get them. They liked him, men and women, and he had never had an issue before. And there he was, leaving a bouquet of flowers like a coward because he couldn’t knock.

All because of the stupid melody.

His impulsive thoughts won again and he crouched to write down his name at the bottom of the note. Only having his good luck ran out and knock his head against a pot when he rose back up. Azriel cursed under his breath at the sharp pain, but wasn’t fast enough to catch the pot.

He didn’t know what worried him most – that he was sad because the humming stopped, or that it stopped. Azriel didn’t need his fae hearing or shadows to hear the approaching steps, and he quickly retreated into the darkness. Just as he appeared in the other corner of the streets, hidden from the public’s eye, the door opened.

“Hello?”

Azriel let his lips part in surprise when Elain didn’t peer at the street, but you. The stranger with a memorizing smell that had been stood up. The girl whose bags he had dropped in the middle of the street.

You were wearing a stained apron, and had been clearly cooking. Azriel felt the sudden need to know what. What you were doing that made you look like that, that made Azriel’s rebellious heart jump.

He watched as you looked to both sides of the street, smiling to acquittances and finally noticing the bouquet. Your eyebrows almost rose to your hairline and an adorable shade of pink covered your chest. You quickly covered your mouth, but Azriel’s bones reverberated at the sound of your giggle. He found himself wondering if you were curling your toes in your shoes.

Leaning down, you picked the flowers and Azriel’s stupid smile, that had no right to be on his face, dropped.

He had signed it.

Your eyes scanned the tag and read through his words at a sickening speed. Sorry about last week, hope I wasn’t too much of a dick. Yours, Azriel

His shadows swallowed him before he could ask the Cauldron to dig a hole and swallowed him, but he could still see your content smile and have the utter and complete realization that your smile shadowed Elain’s.

The dance

“When have you ever cleaned up so nice?” Cassian asked him as he invaded his room, with no warning.

“Whenever you’re not around to see it” he answered back, not tearing his eyes away from his tie’s knot on the mirror. “So I don’t eclipse you”

Cassian scoffed and threw himself on the perfectly made bed. Azriel didn’t bother asking him to move, because while any other time he would have kicked him out, his bed was the farthest point from his work desk. Where, between patrol reports and court’s correspondence, were a month’s worth of letters between you two.

His hands trembled even more at the thought of his brother finding about it. He was already nervous enough at the premise of dancing with Elain tonight, at the thought of her wearing the bracelet he had sent her that matched his tie. Azriel didn’t need to think about the pointless, certainly not important letters that he shared with you.

“Nesta has kicked me out of our room” the male proclaimed. “She’s determinated to get to the ball on time. As if me not seeing her now would change our early departure”

“You’re disgusting” Azriel met his brother’s stare through the mirror.

“And you’re jealous. When was the last time you got laid?” Cassian raised her eyebrows suggestibly. “Anyone in mind for this particularly night?”

“Nesta, if you leave her unsatisfied”

“Can it be me if I’m unsatisfied?”

Cassian’s laugh boomed through the room and took Azriel’s mind out of the last hours’ frenzy. He had wanted to be excited, had been thinking about Feyre’s birthday ball for months now. Thinking about how Elain and him would dance, proving Rhysand that they were a match and should be together.

Indeed, Azriel had been excited about it until a month ago. When he found himself cutting his encounters with Elain short when a note came through, falling asleep with thoughts of a different woman on his mind.

He hadn’t seen you since the incident of the flowers, and his intention was to never see you again. But then, he had found a note on his training room, delivered by Nuala. I’m glad we both agree you were a dick that day, but if my forgiveness has you loosing nights of sleep, I forgive you. Although, for the next time, don’t be disappearing from a crime scene – those flowers were expensive.

Azriel had found it and had scoffed a laugh, a sound foreign to his ears. He had replied and had sent Nuala back to your house, with an apologetic smile.

Seems that I keep encountering you when I don’t mean to. Those flowers were for someone else, but I’m happy to hear that I will be sleeping soundly from now on. Sorry for your pot. If it makes you feel better, fate was my witness and gifted me with a nasty bump.

Two notes evolved to another two, then to four more, and suddenly, Azriel found himself sending you noted almost every day, sharing stupid facts and reading about your day.

“Is it because Elain?”

The mood was broken and shattered at the word of the fae, and Azriel finished his knot to turn and look at Cassian.

“Don’t judge me. I’m not Rhys ‘don’t you dare to touch my sis-in-law’ or Mor ‘bad choices are made’” Cassian lifted his arms slightly. “I’m just curious”

“Am I cleaning up nice for my high-lady and friend’s birthday ball? Yes, unlike you, I do care about having a clean presence” he looked down to his jacket. “Your shirt is stained with Nesta’s lipstick”

“Oh, I plan to let her stain more than my shirt” he chuckled.

Azriel rolled his eyes and turned towards the door without saying anything else.

He walked with Cassian through the long hallways until they reached the main hall, talking about training and pointless topics. The usual knot on his stomach loosened a bit when he was with him, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud. He knew Cassian only looked for him in those social events for his sake – because he knew how much Azriel struggled with the attention, with the looks.

For the first minutes, he stood by his side silently as Cassian greeted different people that Azriel didn’t want to talk with. He engaged short conversations with his family, laughed softly at Mor’s attempt of escaping with the wine, and entertained Nyx briefly.

He kept looking at the main doors, waiting for Elain to walk through so he could regain that excitement, that want, that seemed to seep through his fingers lately.

When the first dance started, Rhysand took Feyre’s hand and dragged her through the floor, looking like a regius couple. Mor took a giggling Nyx in her arms and danced in the corner, and Cassian used the opportunity to sneak with Nesta.

Azriel quickly found himself in the middle of dancing couples, and he swore the knot of his tie got tighter. He looked around for Elain, tried to identify her sweet smell or long hair, but he didn’t find her.

“She’s not coming, you know?” Amren’s voice appeared to her right, and he turned to find her leaning against a wall.

“Who’s not coming?”

“Elain” she explained. “She left yesterday with Lucien to get to know his court. Thought you, of all people, should know”

Had he been so out of it that he hadn’t notice it? Had he tried so hard to think about her that he hadn’t talked to her? He tried to think of a conversation where Elain told him that she wouldn’t be assisting, but he realized that he hadn’t talked to her in the last few days.

Actually, he had just sent the bracelet and guessed she would wear it. Part of his excitement wore down at the news, and he regretted agreeing to the ball.

Amren raised a brow at his fallen expression.

“Are you still after her, boy? Knowing she has a mate?” she inquired. “Thought you were smarter than that”

“You don’t understand. None of you do” he said, trying to sound angry. Trying to sound convinced, as convinced as he had been when he met her, but his voice sounded deflected.

“Maybe we don’t, but don’t fool yourself thinking the Cauldron makes mistakes. You’re not above its power”

Azriel scoffed at the answer he had heard before too many times, and faced away from Amren. She could try to convince him all she wanted, but his mind was up. As he walked out of the room, evading dancing couples, he forced the disappointment down his chest, where most of his feelings lay forgotten.

Of course she wouldn’t come. Of course, all those glances meant she was nervous around him, not reciprocated feelings. Of course, someone like Azriel wouldn’t end up with someone like her.

He loosened his tie briefly as he exited the ball, only to stop close to the entrance. He looked back at his family, dancing happily in the main floor. Even Amren, who didn’t dance, talked with a content half-smile to Varian, who had attended in behalf of his court.

Through all his centuries, all he had wanted was to have someone to dance with. To hold while the world fell apart, not to endure it on his own. Azriel felt a rebel knot climb to his throat, making the sight in front of him blurry.

Like a fool, he had thought Elain would be that person. After Mor, he thought he had found his person. Azriel looked once more to the ball before hastily turning around and colliding full force with a person entering the ball.

“Damnit!”

“Careful – “

Azriel didn’t get to stop the body falling to the ground, and he almost fell right above it. He gathered his footing back before he could cause more damage, and looked down to the incomer.

Something in his chest cracked when he saw the color of the dress pooling in the ground, the same one he wore on his loosened tie. The exact same color in the bracelet now forgotten in Elain’s room, that he had chosen so carefully and thoughtfully. He blinked past the initial shock and muttered an apologetic smile, offering his hand.

His eyes traveled up the wrinkled but beautiful dress to an exposed cleavage adorned with a simple blue gem. He didn’t register the similarities with his own siphons when his eyes met yours, both widened at the same time.

Centuries of waiting, of uncertainty, were suddenly nothing when the bond snapped loud in his soul. It rattled his bones and threatened to send him to the ground too.

“Y/N” he whispered, the room around him quietened. It was the first time he said your name out loud, and it felt divine on his lips. “What…?”

“Hm, Feyre’s birthday” you accepted his hand and let him pull you up, and he almost sent you crashing against his chest. “She invited me”

“That’s good”

Your eyes didn’t leave his for a while, as the bond settled for the two of you. Something had called you when you saw that dress, hanging beautifully in the window’s shop. You never wore that color, never attended to those parties. But the premise of seeing the owner of the notes you had been receiving lately, who your friends were tired of hearing about, was too appealing.

Somehow, buying that dress, coming late to the ball because of pointless delays, felt like a trick of fate.

“The bond” Azriel supplied uselessly, and you nodded for moral support way too enthusiastically.

“Yeah. It’s… here” you pressed your free hand against your chest, squeezing the one trapped in Azriel’s warm grip. “I didn’t think it would feel like this”

“It feels right”

Azriel couldn’t explain what had been missing until now. A void that had lived for so long in a place he couldn’t reach that now pulsated loudly where he needed it. He expected to be nervous, to be overjoyed, but above all of that, Azriel felt calm. At peace with himself as he stared into your eyes.

Time didn’t exist and the rest of the world was insignificant, only you mattered. And he could have spent an eternity looking at you if you hadn’t taken the first step and hugged him. If he thought the snapping bond was intense, your body against him robbed his breath.

His hand moved by itself to the back of your head, fingers tangling between your locks and pressing your face closer to him. The other arm rounded your waist, until you both belonged together like one soul.

The song ended and you looked up from his arms. With a small smile, you looked down at the loosened tie.

“Would you like to dance?”

Azriel nodded quickly and turned his back to the exit, your hand in his. People stared, his family looked at him, but all he could see was how blind he had been not to notice you were what was missing.

The Suriel 2

In the busy morning, few people stopped to see what lurked in the shadows of Velaris. They walked and rushed to their meeting points, talked with friends and families in the corners, and enjoyed the sunny day in the square. They all held interesting stories, futures that the Suriel fed on.

But he didn’t look at any of them. Only at the male standing a few feet away from him. He was sure his shadows had noticed him by now, that they knew his scent and presence, but decided not to warn his master. After all, he was no threat, just a mere spectator of fate.

The shadowsinger seemed to doubt between two books from a stand. He was oblivious to the world around him, but the Suriel knew. He noticed how he had changed in just five months, how not only his scent screamed a mating bond but also his soul. The way he stood, walked, talked.

As if the world didn’t own him anything else, as if he was finally the main character of his story.

The tall, dangerous male picked up the thicker book and paid for it with a small smile. He asked the woman in charge of the stand for a blue ribbon and tied the bag with it. Azriel turned around and distanced himself from the Suriel, not noticing his looming presence. But as he got farther and farther away from him, the Suriel was pleasantly surprised to notice shadows gathering at his feet, curious but not aggressive.

He showed them a terrifying smile, all teeth and cruelty – and still, they only brushed the torn parts of his cape in silent gratitude.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend

Missed target taglist (will be added if I make a second part)

@kayjayjwrites , @phoenix666stuff , @lupinswolfsbanes , @bionic-donut , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @favsrachz , @dwlyniii , @mischiefmanagers , @sassybluebird , @saltedcoffeescotch , @andrewgarfield2022 , @leeknows-wife , @marscardigan , @celear , @sstrohma , @pricklepearbloom , @blackgirlmagicforever , @emiliasdump , @erencvlt , @that-one-little-soybean , @meshellexplosionmurder , @atrxidxs , @feyretopia , @sidthedollface2 , @littlelunatica , @historygeekqueen, @ash-mcj , @haileycannotcometothephonern , @thesunloveschips , @meritxellao , @impossibelle , @kalulakunundrum , @nebarious , @cullenswife , @emryb , @sandramalikstyles-blog

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verdantwyrm · 1 month ago

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Anya, The Virgin Mary or the Vengeful Bitch

Or, shorthandedly, the Anyalysis.

I'm going to be occasionally stealing some points from my Curly thread over here, which you should absolutely also read. And also some segments from here, my small analysis of Jimmy and him being a monster vs choosing to be.

This analysis will be going over partially some of how she's treated in-game, but also how she's treated outside of the game as a representation of sexual assault and abuse victims, which is to either make her a mournful, bleeding heart virgin Mary, or a vengeful, final girl that's a violent, hysterical she-bitch. Which she is neither.

I think it's perfectly fine to orchestrate fictional characters killing their abusers, there's nothing inherently wrong with just that, it's more how people actually write it.

Just like any other trope, there are ways to go about it that are extremely harmful and ways that are generally inoffensive. As a victim myself, I personally see so many issues in wishing harm against your abuser, and there is nothing wrong with acting that out in characters you feel comfortable and relatable towards, but there are ways to do this that don't end up doing more harm than good— which is where most people fail. It's an objectively hard topic to address, because it requires nuance and understanding, possibly even lived experience to truly understand why someone would want this. Grieving, the absence that comes with being a victim, is not straightforward or black and white, it's an uncomfortable topic thats often on a spectrum of anger, grief or sadness that most people do not want to engage with because they have a very nearsighted opinion on how a victim should react– the perfect victim.

No one actually likes her as a character, they only like her for what she represents.

The Sexism of the Final Girl

I am sick and tired of people making up the realities in their heads where Anya overcomes Jimmy and kills him,

The trope of a "Final Girl" is not the feminist girl boss you want it to be and is incredibly misogynistic. The definition, as told by Wikipedia

"the final girl in many movies shares common characteristics: she is typically sexually unavailable or virginal, and avoids the vices of the victims like illegal drug use. She sometimes has a unisex name such as Avery, Chris, or Sidney."

There are feminist ideals and intentions behind it, but it is not inherently feminist as a concept and is often very misogynistic despite its intentions to display the woman of the group to be strong, better or uphold moral superiority for declining sex, drugs or any of the vices mentioned forehand. It is a sexist trope, and all it does is ridicule women for "falling" for said vices as if that inherently makes them inferior or deserving of murder or assault.

On the surface, the use of the final girl trope may seem like a progressive portrayal of feminist strength and ideology. It can be satisfying to see a strong, independent "girl boss" overcome an otherworldly predator or rapist. However, upon further examination, it is clear that this trope perpetuates prejudice and reinforces societal expectations for women. The final girl is typically portrayed as a straight, white, morally superior woman who abstains from "immoral" activities like drinking, drug usage and sex. She serves as a voice of reason and represents the ideal woman in our society.

Most importantly, she survives while those who deviate from societal norms face violent deaths. This trope is a subtle commentary on the expectations placed on women in our society - good girls will prevail while those who do not conform will suffer a violent and brutal death, usually at the hands of a man. Ultimately, it seeks to shame women for behaving in ways that are not considered "ladylike."

The film industry as a whole has a history of using females as vessels for pain and suffering. Hollywood loves to profit off of female suffering. These male directors may believe they are earning brownie points with audiences by having female survivors in their films, but in reality, they are simply using feminism as a disguise while indulging in the fetishization of female pain.

It is rather exhausting seeing who we are being reduced to one note Virgin Marys with bleeding hearts, scorned mothers or wounded victims of assault who will never recover, never love or never will have sex again. I do think Mouthwashing does an excellent job of telling the story of a rape victim, but how other people treat her beyond that, it's almost impossible to even have a character like Anya or even Angela from Silent Hill 2 without people stripping them and violating what their character is and instead of focusing on what they represent, a victim.

But back to Anya specifically, she does not even exert any interest, desire or want to murder or harm another person. People dehumanise her the same way Jimmy dehumanises her. They strip her of everything she could be, everything she wanted to be and make her out to be a perfect victim, a bleeding heart, a weak and pathetic woman.

How about Anya has a nice day, how about Anya smiles, and she's happy and safe. What about that? Huh? Or do you only like her when she's a victim. People care more about Anya being a victim they can save, a victim they can nurture and heal and rescue than anything else. They care more about her being weak, sad, frail and miserable. Always the mother, always the victim, always the virgin Mary and a sacrifice but never ever a woman and most definitely never a person.

It's even worse when I see people continuously writing and "re-imagining" Anya being Raped just so Curly, Daisuke, Swansea or even a self-insert reader situation to save her. I totally get that you want her to be happy, and to be rescued and for that to never happen but you severely miss the point of the story that there was no one there to save her. And constantly rewriting it to put a man in the favour of the situation comes off as very shallow and misogynistic the way you're all so ready to have someone rescue her like she's some distressed maiden in need of a big strong man, it also takes the point away from her entirely.

The horse that bites

Jimmy's constant dehumanisation of Anya affects how other people perceive her character as well, that she's weak, small or a crybaby in some sense because of how she responds to situations - emotionally, which is then amplified by Jimmy's pre-existing hatred and lack of respect for her.

Jimmy tears her down every chance he gets, makes her feel little and even compares her to Polle in his hallucinations. And Anya knows that he and Curly have a very lengthy history, so her caution and anxiety about even mentioning the incident, let alone saying the word “rape” is borderline impossible for her. It’s a manifestation, it’s a verbal acceptance and confession that it’s even happened. Something she has been trying to avoid coming to terms with.

And when she does eventually tell Swansea what happened, as much as you want to think she told him- she most likely told him to not do anything, to try and keep the peace for as long as possible.

Again, her vagueness is not her fault, nor is it her responsibility. It was Jimmy’s responsibility to not abuse and rape her.

It’s also very present that Jimmy is verbally abusive to her, putting her down at every opportunity by ignoring her very talented medical skills by saying Pony Express only hired her to cut corners in an attempt to reduce costs because she failed Medical School and that she’s not a “real nurse” because of that, and how he constantly questions her skills despite keeping Curly alive for such a long time in such a state.

After being insulted by him multiple times, she fawns to get him to actually do something beneficial because she knows he responds well to praise, and he complies, all while still insulting and belittling her for being "weak" and "sentimental"

Anya shows a clear fear of Jimmy and has consistent fawn responses around Jimmy. She is extremely careful not to make him upset and praises him to keep him amused and compliant to a degree.

Just like Anya says, our worst moments don't make us monsters. It's one thing to fuck up, and immediately suffer the consequences and acknowledge your mistakes— But it's another thing entirely to purposefully make it so you never have to deal with the repercussions and then make yourself out to be the victim. Jimmy takes every opportunity to blame everyone around him. All the time and Anya is no stranger to this.

Curly genuinely saw the good in Jimmy, in the same way, Anya sees the good in others and possibly even tried to see the good in Jimmy despite the pain as one of the key important things about how everything went about is that Anya never directly refers to her rapist as Jimmy, nor does she ever actually insult or talk badly about him, she only expresses her disinterest in talking to him because of his reluctance to cooperate with her. They both believe that our worst moments don't define us, and Curly had his own interpretation all of how we're defined by our past, but not slaves to it.

She is scared, she is terrified at this point and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that nor should we rush to change that. Her being scared is realistic, she is a scared lady in a very scary situation with an even scarier man who constantly switches between dissociation and lashing out depending on what's going on around him. And she is not that person to fight back, to be violent or to hurt him and that is perfectly fine. She doesn't need to be a girl boss feminist and fight back, she can just be a scared and quiet woman stuck in her own terror, and trying to infer that one Is the "better" option downplays victims who freeze in their own terror and makes them out to be weak or a hapless damsel because they're incapable of "standing up for themselves"

She has every single right to be absolutely terrified and that is in no way a bad thing. I actually really, really dislike the interpretation that Anya is angry, resentful or has any revenge towards Curly, or that she has to be this, hysterical mad woman sent out to kill or hurt Jimmy. I don't believe she's either of this. Anya deserves peace, and I think it's extremely important to understand just how similar she is to Curly. And I'm full of the belief that if Anya had actually done something to Jimmy (hurt him, kill him, whatever) she would be demonized and the misogyny she already faces in the fandom would be worse tenfold. Do not lie to yourself.

Not to even mention one of the many, many reasons as to why Anya OD'd in a room with a lock in the first place. It was to make sure Jimmy could never touch her again? Or do something awful to her body, even when it was lifeless and cold? It was to keep the gun safe, to protect Curly, to protect herself, to take control of the situation, to finally not have to worry about him ever touching her again. And Jimmy still violates it, even after she's dead.

He touches her, drags her body, and props her up in that chair. Even after death, she is never free from him. She thought she was going to finally be free of him, his rage, his desires, his touch, and she died thinking this, that he would never ever be touched or hurt by him ever again. She died thinking all was well, that it would all work out in the end, it had to. She died thinking Daisuke and Swansea would somehow make it out of there, tell her story, and make Jimmy face the consequences of his actions, it was the ultimate sacrifice, it was the greatest thing she could ever do.

Jimmy ruined her life, and he ruined her death, her sacrifice. To keep herself safe, to keep Curly safe, to keep the gun away from him, it all meant nothing.

Thinking outside the Ship

Anya is fun, she is enthusiastic, loves to make jokes, draw, play board games with Daisuke, read, and teases Swansea about his love for sweets which he doesn't even bother to object to and Swansea hands her a note so that she could give it to Curly during his psychological evaluation,, implying that they're casual enough for an exchange like that to occur, and even has what seems to be a budding relationship with Curly himself, taking to his comment about being fit to fly in her eyes like it's a common exchange of flirting between the both of them and she even teases him at the birthday party to "hop to it" in terms of the cake. She is at ease around him, her walls have dropped, and she feels safe to talk to him, and even attempts to try and get him to open up more to her.

She reads psychology books, she is extremely determined having applied to Medical school on total of eight different times and obviously has the skills and interest to keep doing it despite failing and only joined Pony Express so she could make money and keep trying to get into medical school.. She also has good taste in music, one that Swansea and Curly enjoy very much. She also seems to get along well with Daisuke and even allows her emotions to show with anger when they play games they seem to have much of the same sense of humour, judging by how Daisuke is genuinely worried about her when she locks herself in the Medical, they seem to have a positive relationship. We don't know much about her relationships with the others beyond what the wiki can provide.

She seems to have the best relationship with Curly, although. And after the crash, she can't bear to give Curly his pills due to him being in visible agony and her own trauma of forcing him to do something he very obviously doesn't want to endure, likely due to memories of her assault being triggered by both the act of forced insertion and the sounds produced by Curly during it.

Anya also spends most of her free time studying. She runs to clear her head. And when she really needs to destress, she binges on the worst reality television and fast food. She is a very free-spirited woman who is eternally doomed to be reduced to nothing but a hapless, miserable victim.

Final Comments and Thoughts

I don't have much to say here unlike my last analysis, but the situation on the Tulpar is not as straightforward as people would like, I understand it's extremely cathartic to think of a situation where Jimmy gets what he deserves but it isn't realistic, and thats what this game is trying to say. Abusive corporations, exhausting capitalism, this environment breeds Abusers like Jimmy and victims like Anya and Curly. There was nothing that could be done. Pony Express is what doomed them all, they're the catalyst.

Anya deserves to be written and viewed as more than just a representation, a victim or a vengeful hysterical bitch. She deserves to be happy!

Thank you for reaching the end of the thread, please don't be scared to share your thoughts in the tags or in my inbox, I'd love to hear them! good job! (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing anya #mouthwashing jimmy #mouthwashing curly #just talking #curly mouthwashing #mouthwashing daisuke #mouthwashing swansea #long post #analysis #character analysis #mw #mouthwashing meta

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 2 months ago

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you in my eyes [1]. l Javier Peña

Summary: you weren't friends and you certainly weren't planning anything more together

Warnings: angst, hangover, mentioning misogyny, a few bad words, mentioning a dissolute life, gossip

A/N: i don't know what will come of this, i'm pretty impulsive. an idea came to me, i got home early, i wrote it. will i regret this in the morning? probably yes.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[masterlist]

The pain piercing your head was unbearable, and the stake you had instead of your tongue only meant one thing - you had a huge hangover. If it weren't for the fact that you liked your job and had to earn money, you wouldn't have shown up at the office that day. But you had to.

You were halfway through the investigation and your presence there was almost mandatory. That's why in the morning you put on your wrinkled clothes, only changed your shirt for a clean one, and showed up at the office with everyone else.

The sweet chatter from the kitchenette reached your ears and you already regretted not having a cup of coffee at home. You were definitely not cut out for morning chats with your coworkers. A deep breath was like jumping into deep water full of hungry piranhas.

"Morning." You greeted, plastering a charming smile on your face and heading straight for the coffee pot. The thought that if you hurry up, you'll manage to get out unnoticed was very promising.

You weren't given that chance though.

"And what do you think about him?" the question came behind you as you searched for a usable mug in the sink.

It wasn't until you heard your name that you realized the question was directed at you.

"Hmm? Sorry, I didn't catch that." You mumbled, glancing over your shoulder at the women talking at the table.

The woman with the tightly tied bun smiled indulgently. "I asked what you thought of Javier."

"Who? Peña?" You frowned, trying to remember if she was referring to him.

"Yes, sweetie." Loise rolled her eyes and tapped her coffee mug with her red nails. "I don't know of any other Javier who would be on the lips of women in this office."

"And not just in the office." The girl sitting next to her giggled.

"Oh!" you raised your eyebrows surprised by this question "What does my opinion have to do with it? I mean, he's a good agent, right?"

A few women giggled, and Loise looked at you like you were a really bad case. You quickly rinsed your mug, hoping that your blunt answer would put an end to the whole discussion that you didn't even want to have. Loise seemed to think otherwise.

"We're talking about how Agent Peña is a really bad example for other men." You were wrong, Loise decided to continue on this topic and wanted to engage you in a conversation "His behavior, the way he treats women, the way he uses them..."

I poured myself a cup of coffee, but every other word Louise said hit your ear. She had a specific tone of voice, it pierced your aching brain like tiny pins, deeper and deeper. You took a sip of hot coffee.

"...and most of the female part of this office passed through his bed." Loise lifted her chin as if her monologue was really exceptionally good and you should appreciate it "His behavior is immoral."

"Would you consider his behavior immoral if he finally took off your panties too?"

You should have bitten your tongue. Fuck! The silence that fell behind you was terrifying, but it was too late. You turned around and leaned against the counter. Loise's eyes were wide open and fixed on you.

"I don't know what you're talking about." she said, enunciating each word clearly.

"I think you know." there was no turning back now, the piranhas smelled blood, you had to fight "It's none of your business what Agent Peña does. Each of us is an adult and makes conscious decisions. I don't think his behavior is immoral."

"That's stupid!" Loise snorted, and the woman sitting next to her put a reassuring hand on her forearm "Maybe your panties are already in his collection?"

"Nope." you shook your head and swallowed another sip of coffee "But your last boyfriend's briefs are at my place."

A strange satisfaction at the sight of Loise's face filled you. It was only when you left the room that you heard the raised voices of conversation, which were now definitely talking about you. Who would care when your head hurt just as badly and you still had many hours of work ahead of you.

Javier knew perfectly well that he was the subject of much gossip in the office, and in particular, he was a big part of women's conversations. He shouldn't have done that, he shouldn't have eavesdropped.

However, that morning he passed by the annex and when he heard his name, his feet immediately stuck to the linoleum that lined the hallway.

He smiled unconsciously when he heard your voice and your cutting comment. Even though he didn't know you very well, and you hadn't worked together for very long, he liked it. You didn't notice him when you left the room and went straight to your desk. Javier guessed that you must have had a hangover.

He had seen you in local bars and clubs many times. It was hard not to notice you. Rarely with friends, rather from the side. You always seemed lost in thought, although your body swayed slightly to the rhythm of the music. Various men appeared next to you, he had seen you go out with some.

However, it was never Javier.

In the office, the gaze of many men followed you. He had heard a few conversations about you, but he hadn't taken part in them. He knew very little, and most of them were probably gossip. It was the same with him.

But did anyone stand up for you? Javier never thought about that.

"Hold the door!"

He pressed the button hard and the doors didn't close all the way. You slipped inside, carrying two boxes of files in your arms, and settled yourself in the back.

"Thanks." You mumbled and rested your head against the cool wall of the elevator.

"Bad day?"

"Mhm. I have a fucking headache." You replied. "I've had four coffees. A heart attack would be a good way to deal with this situation."

Javier chuckled. "I saw you yesterday. Maybe you should drink less next time?"

You looked at him, slightly surprised. "I don't remember asking for your advice, Agent Peña."

"I just..."

"Yeah, I get it. You men find it natural to give advice to women."

The elevator stopped with a slight jolt and the doors opened. You sagged under the weight of the boxes, stepping out into the empty hallway. The sound of footsteps behind you meant your traveling companion was right behind you.

"I saw you yesterday." he finally spoke up.

"Did you like what you saw?"

Javier got ahead of you and opened the door for you. "Do you care?" he smirked.

"Not really."

The sound of your heels echoed through the hallway, his footsteps right behind you.

"I see you a lot, actually."

"We work together, Javier." His name sounded beautiful on your lips, and he was surprised he noticed.

"I mean, I see you after work. In different places, with different people."

You set the boxes on your desk and crossed your arms over your chest. You'd heard that before. "I see you often", "You seem lonely", "I could accompany you tonight", "A cold bed is such a sad place". All the male ideas on how to talk to a woman to achieve their goal, to invite her to their bed. You didn't feel like all this now.

"Javier..." you sighed, and with surprise you noticed how he had really beautiful eyes that were now staring at you intently. "Before you say anything, please think if you would say the same if I didn't have a pussy between my legs."

He snorted and shook his head in disbelief. "Do you think I'm saying that because you're a woman?"

"Oh! So Murphy also experiences your concern because you see him at the bar after work? That's so sweet!"

"Listen, that's not what I meant." Now Javier took a defensive stance, resting his arms on his hips and lifting his chin defiantly, you noticed the change immediately "You're a beautiful woman. Men can take advantage of you. You don't deserve it."

"So many useful tips. Write them down for me and drop them off when you have a second, I'll be grateful."

Brown eyes bore into you intensely, but you didn't look away. You still stood straight in front of him and ready to repel his every word and remark.

You had been doing this for years. At school, at work, in relationships. And now in the office in Colombia. You had to prove your worth and competence, just because you were a woman.

"I guess what they say about you is true." Javier finally muttered.

"And what do they say?"

"That you're a bitch and need a dick."

You bit your lip, smiling, and he felt a strange twitch in his pants. Fuck!

"You know perfectly well that you just lost, Peña, right?"

He knew it. And it pissed him off.

[next chapter]

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

#pedro pascal #javi peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #narcos #javier Peña x reader #you in my eyes series

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redrose10 · 2 months ago

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< Little Birdies >

Detective Yoongi x Female Detective Reader, Friends to Lovers

Warnings: Some suggestive bits, mentions of violence, guns, injuries

I hope you like it and thanks for the request!

*******************************************************

“Your friend seemed nice.”, you mumbled after another sip of your coffee. The thought of the strange woman carrying her bra and underwear in her hands while she tiptoed out of the apartment you shared with Yoongi making your stomach turn just a little.

The shutter of the camera made a loud clicking sound. After making sure he got the shot Yoongi turned and smirked at you, “You want her number? You seem more interested in her than I am.”

“No thanks. Not my type.”, you scoffed.

“Mmhm…yeah I forgot…you like assholes named Hoseok that somehow forget to text you for days at a time and spell your name wrong in birthday cards that they give you three weeks too late.”

“Yeah well at least I don’t have a revolving door of different women because I’m a manwhore that can’t go more than three days without getting my dick wet.”

“Ouch…”, he said clutching his chest in fake hurt but still with a smile getting you to giggle along with him.

“Seriously though Y/N, you should dump him. You deserve better.”

“Like you?”, you playfully responded.

“Umm yeah, I’m a great catch.”, he proudly exclaimed before grabbing a few more photos.

You snorted in response, but deep down you knew he was right. He was kind, thoughtful, funny, brave, and on top of that he was incredibly handsome. You’d had a crush on him since his family moved in next door to you when you were both six years old. The two of you became pretty much inseparable while growing up even joining the police force together and getting an apartment to live in. You weren’t entirely sure of his feelings towards you and you were just too scared to make any move that could possibly ruin your relationship. So you kept them a secret all these years.

Yoongi took a few more pictures as a group of men walked out of the restaurant you had been scoping out for the last few hours before placing the camera on the back seat. “I think we got enough for now. Let’s get back to the office and search for any updates.”, he said putting the car in drive.

The thing was that you had no idea how much Yoongi liked you, he knew that he even loved you. It killed him watching you date guys who treated you poorly or didn’t care about you like he did. Even when you dated Taehyung who was actually very nice and caring and never did or said anything to make it seem like he didn’t love you, it still didn’t sit right with him. Yoongi always knew he could love you better, he could love you more.

He hated that he couldn’t bring himself to stay in a relationship longer than a few months because he always ended up feeling like he couldn’t fully commit to them since you were always on his mind. He hated sneaking in random women that he met in bars or through friends just to spend the night pretending that it was you moaning his name in his ear as he thrusted in and out of them. He hated that he could stare down the barrel of a gun like it was nothing, but he didn’t have the courage to really tell you how he felt about you. He dropped hints. He thought he was being very obvious at times. Everyone else could see it, but for some reason you never did. A part of him wondered if you did catch on, but didn’t feel the same way and you just didn’t want to embarrass him or ruin the friendship you guys had. The thought of that made his chest ache.

“Good morning Y/N, where is your other half?”, Jimin smirked while Jungkook giggled next to him. You wanted to say something harsh in return but you reminded yourself that they were good kids and just liked to push your buttons a little. They were rookies and were assigned to work in the same office as you and Yoongi. They were in charge of paperwork and smaller tasks, but mostly they just gave you and Yoongi a hard time.

The thing was you actually didn’t know where he was. He had a date last night, like an actual date and not just a one night stand. You fell asleep on the couch waiting for him to get home and when you got up for work he wasn’t there. The date must’ve gone really well was your first thought. Your second thought was that it must have gone so well that he didn’t even come home last night because he never lets you sleep on the couch. Something about it being bad for your posture so he always carried you to bed. It seemed like someone else had kept his attention.

Before you could answer the two men he came walking into the small office. “I was buying you guys some breakfast, but I guess I’ll just have to eat it myself.”, he said while purposely letting the large bag of food smack Jimin in the back of the head as he walked by.

“Caramel Latte.”, he smiled handing you a to-go cup.

“Thanks… did you forgot the —“

“Blueberry bagel extra toasted with extra cinnamon cream cheese.”, he smirked handing you the still warm bagel.

“Thanks Yoongles.”, you smiled already digging in.

From the side Jungkook mocked in a high pitched voice, “Yeah thanks Yoongles.” Jimin joined in, “Yeah maybe for lunch Yoongles can give Y/N some of his own di—“, he couldn’t finish because Yoongi had taken a half of a bagel and shoved it into Jimin’s mouth to shut him up earning a laugh from everyone in the small office.

Once everyone ate and and got their briefings and you and Yoongi were in your car off to scope out a new location that was suspected of being a mafia hangout, you finally took a moment to ask the question that had been bothering you since the night before.

“So uh your date went well I’m guessing…you know since you never came home last night.”, you slightly cringed at how petty and desperate you sounded. You weren’t his mother so you had no say in when or if he even came home at all.

“It was alright.”, he mumbled.

“Mmm do you think you’ll see her again?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe. Unless someone else want to go on a date with me instead.”

You smiled, but didn’t say anything else. Instead you turned to look out the window pretending you were taking notes. You missed the way Yoongi looked you up and down.

The truth was he didn’t really have any plans to ever see that woman again. As horrible as it sounds he thought that she could maybe be a distraction for a while, a way to get his brain to stop thinking about you every minute of every day. But for the entire evening all he could think about was the look of sorrow in your eyes when he told you about the date. And right before he was about to leave you dropped the bomb on him that Hoseok had broken up with you that same morning. He felt awful. He offered to cancel the date, but you begged him not to. He was miserable and decided to end it early. He stopped at the convient store and grabbed all of your favorite snacks and a cute little stuffed poodle to add to your collection of stuffed animals he’d gotten you over the years. But when he got home you were already sound asleep on the couch. Normally he would carry you to bed not wanting you to wake up sore, but you looked exhausted and his shoulder had been acting up worrying him that he’d end up dropping you if he tried. So he grabbed another blanket and tucked you in instead before placing a soft kiss to the top of your head and getting in bed himself so that he could get up bright and early and surprise everyone with breakfast in the morning.

You hated working nights. You were so glad when your rookie years were over and you could have first dibs on the more desirable shifts. But they were super backed up on paperwork and you needed a distraction. Yoongi was on another date. He wouldn’t confirm or deny if the date was with the same woman so you chose to assume it was a second date and in Yoongi world being lucky enough to get a second date with him is basically like a marriage proposal so you were feeling a little heavy hearted.

“You two should just tell each other how you feel.”, Jimin spoke from the cubicle across from yours after noticing you staring into space. “Yeah it used to be fun to tease you guys, but now it’s just sad.”, Jungkook added after popping a handful of chips into his mouth.

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Oh come on Y/N…it’s clear that you two like each other. Childhood best friends that have always had a thing for each other, but were always too afraid to say anything in fear of ruining the friendship so they yearn after each other in secret while trying to force love elsewhere.”, Jimin snorted, “It’s a tale as old as time.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s my best friend and there’s no way he’d like me any ways.”, you spat feeling a little irritated.

“Yeah…but do you give all of your friends big puppy dog eyes every time they walk in the room?”, Jungkook questioned which pleased Jimin judging by the smirk on his face.

Rolling your eyes you continued to type away on your computer without giving them a verbal response.

“And Yoongi has it down bad for you.”, Jimin said making you stop your actions.

They snickered back and forth knowing they got you.

Jimin continued, “Seriously Y/N, he buys you food all the time.”

“So? He buys the whole office food.”

“Yeah, but we get the stuff that was 50% off because it was about to expire while you get the premium fancy coffees and the hot fresh sandwiches.”

“So what? I’ve known him since we were kids.”, you shrugged, “I’d do the same for him.”

“Yeah well what about these?”, Jungkook said pointing at a bunch of pencils that were snapped in half on Yoongi’s desk.

“They’re just pencils…I don’t really understand?”

Jungkook laughed, “Yeah they’re all just poor innocent pencils that Yoongi has snapped with his hands because he was squeezing them so tightly in anger every time you get all flirty with the ballistics guys…uh what’s his name? Namjoon, yeah that guy.”

“I do not flirt with him. He’s just nice and has cute dimples.”

Jimin snorted, “Don’t let Yoongi hear you say that. I don’t think we have any room in the budget for more pencils.”

“Okay and like he actually took a bullet for you. I’m not sure I would even sprain my ankle for this guy.”, Jimin sighed pointing over at Jungkook earning quite the glare.

He did have a point with that one. You were both new at the time. You were closing in on a well known and dangerous drug dealer. A shot was fired and you froze. If Yoongi hadn’t acted quickly and stepped in front of you it would’ve hit you right in the forehead. Instead he took the bullet in his left shoulder barely missing a major artery. It’s been nearly seven years and he still hasn’t 100% recovered, still having pain from time to time. You’ve always felt awful about it but that was him just doing his job and protecting his friend, nothing more.

You shook your head, “That doesn’t prove anything. That was just him doing what he was sworn in to do.”

“Yeah well he also turned down that promotion because of you.” The sound Jimin’s hand made when it connected to the back of Jungkook’s head would’ve made you laugh at any other time, but instead his words kept repeating in your head, “What promotion?”

Jimin put his hands up in defense and looked at Jungkook., “This one is on you. Yoongi made us promise not to tell her and I do not want to receive the wrath of a man who can easily snap a pencil with one hand.”

Jungkook swallowed before nodding, “Well a few months ago Yoongi was offered a promotion to captain. But he uh…he turned it down because he didn’t want you out in the streets without him. He said no one could or would protect you like would so he declined it.”

“W-wait, he actually turned down a promotion like that because of me?” Both of the guys nodded but remained silent.

“I’m sorry…I um…I have to go.”, you mumbled grabbing all of your things. You felt sick and you needed to talk to Yoongi and make him go beg for that promotion.

You stood in front of your door for a minute praying that you weren’t going to walk in on anything you didn’t want to see so you took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Thankfully the apartment was empty. You were going to take a quick shower and then decide on your next move. But as you were taking off your shoes the door opened and Yoongi came walking in.

“W-What are you doing here?”, you asked shocked to see him home so early and also (thankfully) alone.

“Well last time I checked I lived here? Wow you must have a fever setting in.”, he chuckled.

“F-fever?”

He grabbed your hand and took you to the kitchen where he started unboxing the soup he had picked up for you, “Yeah Jimin texted me and said you left in a hurry because you weren’t feeling well so I got you some soup and some tea and some medicine and this cute cupcake because cake makes everything better.”, he smiled.

“Did you leave your date for this?”, you questioned feeling a little sicker by the minute.

“Uh yeah, but it’s no big deal.”, he said handing you a bowl of the soup and encouraging you to eat it.

It all started repeating over and over in your mind. The missed dates, the promotion, the bullet. You wondered how much else he’d given up for you.

“No Yoongi, you have to stop doing this.”, you said taking a step back.

“Doing what?”, he laughed, “Taking care of you?”

“Yes Yoongi! You can’t keep skipping out on dates and taking bullets and rejecting promotions. You need to start…you need to start doing what makes you happy. You need to stop focusing on me so much.”

He stood still and licked his lips. His hands were tightly gripping the counter.

“Peppermint or chamomile?”, he asked.

“What?!”

“Do you want peppermint tea or chamomile tea? I got both just in case.”, he asked again already reaching for a mug.

“Yoongi I don’t want any tea! Are you listening? You can’t keep giving up things because of me. I just want you to be happy. I want you to achieve your goals. I want you to find the woman of your dreams and spend the rest of your life together in love and stop worrying about me all the time.”

Yoongi was normally a very stoic slow moving man so when he moved so quickly that he had you caged in against the counter within seconds it somewhat startled you.

He stared deeply into your eyes, something he rarely did, “Y/N did you ever stop to think that maybe THIS is what makes me happy. That maybe I enjoy taking care of you. That maybe my dream is to have you close to me forever. That maybe I found the love of my life when her and her parents came over to introduce themselves to the new neighbors and she came walking up to me with cute pigtails and a gorgeous smile to give me one of her moms famous brownies. Did you ever think that maybe the day I took that bullet I didn’t just do it because it was my job…that I did it because I would rather die myself than have to spend the rest of my life without you. And the promotion? Sure it would’ve been nice. The money could’ve helped. But the risk wasn’t worth it to me. You’re all I need to be happy. I’m done trying to pretend that you’re just a friend to me. I’m done going on dates with other women pretending that they’re you. I love you Y/N and as long as I have you then that’s all I need in this life.”

You hadn’t even realized you were crying until he reached up to wipe away at the tears that had settled on your cheeks. Those were the words you’d wanted to say for so long but we’re too afraid that they wouldn’t be reciprocated.

“I-I love you too Yoongi.”, you whispered before burying your face in his chest and feeling his arms tightly wrap around you to pull you even closer.

You had already felt a million times better, but Yoongi did what he did best and made sure you ate all of the soup and drank the tea. Then you guys decided to dig into the cupcake which you happily shared with him.

“Soooo how did you find out about the promotion?”, he asked before feeding you another bite of cake.

“Ohhh a uh some little birdies told me.”, you mumbled trying not to make eye contact with him.

He nodded, “Mmmhm I see. And do these little birdies have impeccable hair and irresistible smiles?”

“Well… you know…I don’t think the hair of these birdies really matters…and I really don’t think birds can even smile.”, you said trying to distract him, “And you should be nice to these little birdies because they’re the ones that helped get us together.”

He leaned in and gave you a long awaited kiss, “Jimin and Jungkook are still going to be on car washing duty for the next three months.”, he laughed before going in for another kiss, “Which is better than the crime scene cleanup that I originally had planned.”

“But I do have the nicest smile right?”, he asked when you guys were finally done laughing.

You sat in silence deciding to tease him a little bit.

“Riiiggghhhtttt?”, he questioned again with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Weeeelllll Namjo-“

Before you could finish the statement he stuffed the rest of the cupcake in your mouth to stop you and then breaking out into a big gummy smile that always had been and always will be the best to you.

#bts #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi #bts x reader #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi x y/n #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #bts yoongi #yoongi au

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eempyreall · 17 days ago

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♪ 𝑆uper Soaker 𝑏𝑦 Ashnikko ♪

༺ Experimental Doll ༻

Oneshot ~ Female Bonten Trio x Female Reader

Summary ~ When you joined Bonten, you had no clue that you’d end up being forced to play as their doll.

Featuring ~ Sanzu Haruchiyo and the Haitani Sisters

This story should only be posted under eempyreall on my tumblr and ao3. Report if you see it posted under anyone else but me.

l apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Warning ~

You and the characters are 21+. Although I picture the reader as a black cis-gendered female, physical appearance will not be described at all.

Content within this story may not be realistic or factual.

I do not condone any of the behavior displayed within the story.

There may be dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit content, sexual content, non consensual and/or dubious consensual content, etc.

That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

It is hard being the type of woman you are in this society.

It doesn’t help being surrounded by other women who fit into the various feminine archetypes—something you’ve always wanted to be included in.

You couldn’t help your background, raised by guardians who taught you to be overly independent without realizing the harm it may cause to the future you who wanted nothing else but to become a completely different person.

You tried following the beauty gurus, the social media trends, the videos that give numerous tips, but it never felt like who you truly are. You want to feel the freedom of living as a bimbo or a seductress. Femme fatale? You didn’t really fit into any of those archetypes.

When you joined the criminal organization full of strong, mentally unwell women, you hadn’t expected anything to change. In fact, you felt slightly better being surrounded by other dominant figures. You felt like you finally belonged somewhere. That was—until you met Sanzu and the Haitani sisters.

“You’re always so uptight, Y/n. Do you ever loosen up?” the younger Haitani says as she takes a sip of her alcoholic beverage, the black ink on her neck prominent. The front strands of her purple hair fall over her face, while the rest of her mullet is pulled back into a loose bun.

The pencil skirt she wears exposes her thigh as she crosses one leg over the other. Her back is leaned against the chair, sitting in the club she and her sister own. Her heels are set to the side of the chair, and her painted toenails are visible through her skin-colored tights.

You are sitting on the sofa in front of her, arms crossed, your suit tight against your figure. You frown at the younger sister before pulling out your phone and shifting your attention to the screen.

You are the designated driver, taking over Kakucho’s usual placement when the Haitani Sisters and Sanzu go out. Considering she’s assigned to a mission, she asked you politely to take over, something you have never done.

You’ve seen the way the sadistic pink and purple haired women act. They like to play with their prey purely out of boredom. They find amusement with others suffering. Although you’re in Bonten and have murdered people before, you kill swiftly.

They like to get ridiculously inebriated, ironically entrapping various men by stealing from them for fun or killing them after their hookups. They brag about the stories to Kakucho, Kokonoi, and Takeomi. You just so happen to overhear the conversations considering it was usually at the meeting table before Mikey would walk in.

You were envious of how masculine the women are and yet they could always switch. The men around you all flocked shamelessly to them, no matter how badly they were treated. They have the ability to use their physical features to their advantage, something you’ve never had the option to experience.

Ran sits next to you, her head leaning on your shoulder as her lilac hair falls gracefully down her back. You see the reflection of her purple eyes from the black screen of your phone when you press the power button.

“What the hell are you doing?” You question as her acrylics are set right above your breast, making herself comfortable in the seat.

“Awe, why’d you turn it off? Whatever,” she says as she sits back up, turning her attention to some random guy she brought into the vip section.

“Watch this,” she lazily smirks, mischief prominent in her gaze as she calls the guy over. When he arrives, she points down to the floor.

“Down boy,” she commands, taking the blunt from his hand before she brings it to her lips. The man complies like a robot and kneels in front of her, becoming her footrest as she puts her feet on top of his back, heels still on. She crosses a bare, slender leg over the other as she takes another long hit from the flower.

“Men are so pathetic,” Rin says, rolling her eyes as she takes another sip from her glass.

You look up to the right side of Ran as you watch the pink haired woman make her way over, laughing at the display in front of her, the scars on her lips curving with her stretched lips. Her bright eyelashes flutter as she flips her long pink hair from her shoulder. Her blue irises glare down at the man with amusement as she lifts her leg, the end of her heel pressing onto the back of the man beside Ran’s legs. Her hands meet her hips as she continues to push pressure against the grunting man.

Your eyebrows furrow at the weird behavior while you watch the man tremble. You don’t understand why he’s taking their shit, but you’re nobody’s savior. If he doesn’t want to save himself then nobody can save him.

“I bet he has a boner too!” Sanzu laughs as she repeatedly stomps the male’s back before Ran pushes him from the side with her heels, causing him to lose his balance and fall over, the top of his head hitting against the leg of the table in the middle of the seating area.

“Oh gross! He actually does!” Rin laughs as she slightly leans over to get a look at the man’s bulge.

“Of course he does. This is probably the closest he’s ever been to beautiful women,” Ran shrugs as she takes another hit before offering it to you.

The women’s eyes slightly widen as they watch you take the blunt and lift it to your lips, sucking a huge pull in before breathing in and blowing out a wad of smoke.

You give them a confused look at their stares before asking, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I’m just surprised that you smoke weed,” Rin says truthfully. Sanzu and Ran nod in response.

You shrug, “Then you don’t know me,” which is obvious since you kept it that way on purpose. All of the women in Bonten are too dangerous to be friendly with.

“Then let’s get to know you,” Ran says as she twists her body, shoo—ing the male away in the process as she lies her head on your lap. You miss Sanzu walking to the left side of you until you feel the dip in the couch.

“I have a proposition for ya. The best way to really get to know someone is if they are high,” the pink haired demon smiles. You give her a pointed look before shaking your head.

“Hell no. You are not about to have me fucked up. I’m driving all of us home anyway,” you respond, keeping your eyes on Sanzu to avoid eye contact with the woman staring up at you from below.

“I can drive,” Rin jokingly raises her hand. You roll your eyes.

“You’ve literally been drinking,” you respond.

“Hey, I’m a good driver. I’m used to being drunk behind the wheel anyway,” she shrugged.

“I can vouch for her, I’m always a passenger princess anyway,” Ran says as she plays with the tie of your blouse.

“Whatever. I’m not doing drugs,” you say before turning your attention back to Sanzu. “Especially whatever the hell you have.”

Her eyes widened with a blush glowing on her face.

“Hey! I have good shit, you know,” she crossed her arms.

“No I wouldn’t know and I’m not gonna know, addict,” you respond, causing the Haitani sisters to laugh.

Sanzu frowns at you before you turn your attention back to the blunt in your hand, leaning over and passing it to Rin.

Before you could lean back, your jaw is snatched from your left as your lips are forced to connect with softer, glossed lips. The bitter taste of lip gloss and another substance mix together on your tongue as you feel her tongue exploring the inside of your mouth.

“Oh wow!” You hear Rin say as Ran smiles in amusement before sitting up.

You feel Sanzu’s acrylics piercing your skin as you attempt to pull back, your eyebrows raised as blue irises stare into your own. When you try to pull yourself out of her grip, Ran snatched your shoulders, forcing you to fall back as Sanzu climbs on top of you, your head falling onto Ran’s lap.

Her knee is in between your legs as you taste a bitter substance dissolving on your tongue, grunting as you grab her shoulders to push the maniac off of you.

When she releases you, a string of saliva connects both of your lips as she moves back. You eye her with shock and anger as you sit up quickly.

“What the fuck did you just make me take you fucking bitch?!” You snatch her hair as your hand wrapped around her neck, pulling her closer to you.

Sanzu’s face heats up as she gazes at you with wide eyes, caught off guard by your approach. Soon after, a mischievous grin grows on her expression.

“I guess you’ll find out, huh?” She teased you before grabbing your neck, squeezing harshly as her nails prick your skin. Your grip only tightens back, both of you almost nose—to—nose as you glare at her. She only beams a crazed smirk in return.

The Haitani sisters glance at each other with knowing looks of amusement before Ran slides her hands over your arms until she reaches for your hands.

“Let’s relax a bit, yeah?”

Your eyes widen as you release your grip from Sanzu’s hair and neck. You gaze at the hands on your arms, a weird feeling bubbling in your stomach as your senses heighten. The colors of the room begin to slightly blur, the light rays beaming against the skin of Ran’s arm.

“W—what the hell?” You breathe out, jumping up from your seat as the effects of the drug take over your vision. Your heart rate accelerates as you stumble in your stance.

You fall back on the sofa as Ran guides your head back to her lap.

“How are you feeling?” She questions with curiosity, her voice sounding distorted.

You continue to stare at the ceiling, the different colored lights prominent in your vision as you feel warmth forming in your stomach.

“I—I don’t know.”

Rin stands from her seat to hover over you as well as Sanzu mimicking her from the side.

You get caught in a daze by their prominent colored eyes and hair, the pigments swirling together in a slow circle as your pupils enlarge.

A grin forms on Sanzu’s expression.

“It’s working,” she sings.

“Let’s really get to know her,” Rin smiles as she grabs your phone. She uses your face id to unlock the device before taking a shot of you and walking back to her seat to snoop on your phone, blunt still in between her index and middle finger.

The music in the background seems to heighten as you could hear even the smallest note along with the hypnotizing melody.

Ran cradles your head as she gestures for Sanzu to hand her a bottle of the alcohol that’s set on the table.

“Here, have a sip of water,” she offered you. You gulp a sip down after she set the tip to your lip, only to push it away as you begin to cough, the strong liquid burning your throat and chest as some of the alcohol spills on your top.

“She has a journal on her phone!” Rin gasped with excitement as she stretched her arm out for Sanzu and Ran to see the phone’s screen.

“Find something good,” Her sister responds as she loosens your tie, pulling it off of you and tossing the fabric to the side.

“Ooo, this sounds interesting,” Rin says after scrolling for a few seconds.

“W—wait!” You exclaim, coming back to a distorted reality as your gaze shifts to Rin.

“What is it?” Sanzu questions as she walks behind Rin’s chair, snatching the blunt from her hand and bringing it to her lips.

This situation would be more torturous for you if the drug in your system wasn’t so distracting. Not only is your vision playing tricks on your mind, but Ran’s fingers on your head have you stuck in place. The pleasure is overwhelming and hard to ignore, the touches on your skin causing a heightened response. It was hard to focus on one thing at a time. It’s hard to think straight.

After Rin reads the passage, Sanzu tsked as Ran cooed.

“So many insecurities, Y/n. Who would’ve thought you were so sensitive?” She teased as your face and body heat up.

“W—wait, where’s my phone? I need my phone,” you inquire as your hand meets your forehead.

Rin continues to read aloud the passages that she thinks are interesting or even scandalous such as: revealing your deepest insecurities, thoughts on them, and the people around you.

“I can’t tell if she’s jealous or admires us,” Rin chuckled after swiping the window away to snoop through your photos.

“You really think my scars are pretty?” Sanzu hovers over you, the ends of her hair prickling your face while she hands Ran the roach.

“Probably both. Either way, I like it,” Ran responds, taking a large hit of what’s left before pressing the burning end against your skin, causing you to scream in pain as you attempt to sit up. Sanzu blocks you from succeeding.

“I want you to remember this night everytime you look in the mirror, Y/n,” she says, her sultry tone raised slightly so you could hear her voice through your screams. She pressed different spots on your exposed chest before finally leaning over to toss the bent stick into the ashtray.

You couldn’t stop the tears from pouring down, the embarrassment of your exposed journal entries—the pain of the burn marks on your chest. The sensations were heightened from the drug.

Rin stood from her seat before walking to the opposite side of where Sanzu was standing.

“How about you become our personal little doll, hm? We can dress you up—play with you. Anything we want, whenever we want,” she says.

This was only the start.

As weeks went on, the women would dress you, do your makeup, force you to try on different items that they had bought just for you.

You didn't want to admit that to a certain extent, you enjoyed the attention. You’ve never experienced having attentive friendships with other women so it’s not like you had many encounters to compare.

Not to mention the attention you’ve gained from the men around you. Especially in the clubs. There’s been a couple of moments when either Sanzu or the Haitani sisters had to beat someone’s ass or shoot them for being perverted towards you.

However, there were moments that made you uncomfortable with their overbearing behavior. One memory in particular…

“This is fucking insane!” You struggle against Sanzu’s hold on your wrists, the fabric of the towel under you scrunching up as you squirm, bare legs shut tightly.

“Hey! Stop whining and spread your legs,” Rin commanded, her fingers digging into the skin of your thighs before using her strength to force your legs open.

Ran sat comfortable on the bed, leaning her back against the headboard as she swiped through your phone, something that you’ve screamed at them to stop, though they never listen.

You stopped writing in your phone’s journal and bought a real notebook because of this issue so there haven't been any new entries. You don’t understand why they continue to check your phone.

“Do you need a sleeping pill or something?” Sanzu questioned with irritation, pink hair draping over her shoulders.

Ran loosened her own tie, tossing the fabric to Sanzu who quickly tied your wrists together before pushing her head through the open space of your arms. She grabs under your legs before pulling them up and spreading them, causing her to lean back against the headboard with both of her legs on either side of you.

You almost cry in embarrassment as you watch Rin snatch the razor from the bed and the coconut oil. You shut your eyes tightly as you avoid eye contact while you feel her hand lather the substance on your bare pussy.

“Finally! You know, I wouldn’t have to do this if you would have done it yourself, Y/n,” Rin states.

“It’s none of your fucking business what my vagina looks like,” you hissed, your arms stretched uncomfortably as you basically hang from Sanzu’s neck.

“Have you forgotten your place? What’s yours is ours so if you don’t take care of it, then we will,” Ran states as Rin uses the razor in one hand, while holding a wet cloth in her other hand.

You’re exhausted from the constant use of drugs that they force into you whether with your knowledge or not. There’s been a couple of times when you have woken up in questionable positions.

In fact, there have been moments where you have woken up in one of their bedrooms—naked and confused with a raging headache and soreness from your vagina. Dreams that may have been memories playing through your brain.

“W—wait,” you groan, your hands grabbing the shoulders above you as your head falls to the side, eyeing the display on the chair.

Sanzu’s hair flips as she grinds her hips against the red, rubber cock inside of her. One of her hands grabs onto Rin’s shoulder as her head falls back. Your drug induced vision caused Rin’s smirk to appear more prominent, her teeth meeting her bottom lip as her hands grabbed onto Sanzu’s hips, guiding her.

You cried out, a rubbery shaft stretching you from below had your body tensing. Your mouth hangs open with your nose scrunched as your attention shifts to the lilac haired woman above you.

The devious smile stretches across her face with her heavy—lidded eyes, irises glowing through the pretty colors of the vip room. She has your legs pinned in place, scissoring her own as she grinds her hips against your lower region, the cock sinking deeper with each thrust as the head of it presses against your g-spot. Her pink nipples are hardened as her plump breasts bounce to the rhythm, your eyes blurring from the tears.

When you first woke up in Sanzu’s bedroom and saw that you and all three of the other girls were naked, you knew that something happened while you were high the night before. In those moments, you would begin to feel sick and dirty.

The more they dressed you with what they deemed as fit, made decisions for you—filling you up with pills, alcohol, and rubber cocks—the more confused you began to feel about your identity.

Who the hell are you?

There was even a time when you had a breakdown when you were alone in your bathroom at the penthouse you were given when you joined Bonten.

“Why does it even matter?” Rin questioned as her arms circled behind your waist while you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the warmth of her breath heavy on your neck.

“Dolls don’t need to think.”

“Y/n, I’ve noticed that you’ve been distracted from work,” Mikey states, half of her platinum hair pulled into a loose tuft while the rest falls just above her shoulders.

She sits with a leg crossed over in the chair of the empty meeting room as you stand to the side. Your arms are behind your back, fingers around your wrist tightening with anxiety.

“I apologize for my inadequacy, Boss. It won’t happen again,” you bow with respect.

“Some of the executives advised me that you haven’t completed most of your recent missions,” she states. Your eyes widen as you stand upright.

“Dolls don’t get dirty, Y/n. They do nothing but sit pretty,” Ran states while eyeing you, baton slung over her shoulder.

You are sitting on the ground of the warehouse with your wrists cuffed behind your back. Your ankles are cuffed together as well.

“I have to complete my mission! Are you trying to get me killed by Mikey?” You’re beyond frustrated with this whole “doll,” shit.

You hear a blood curdling scream following after a loud crack from the traitor who’s sprawled out on the ground. Rin’s shoe crushes the man’s leg into a disfigured position. Sanzu places the barrel of the gun inside the man’s mouth to shut him up.

“No need to worry your pretty little head over things that we will take care of,” she teased while patting your head.

“I’ve decided to demote your position as an executive. The Haitani sisters have offered to become your advisors for missions so you will be working under their command.”

You could only stare at your boss with wide eyes. You didn’t want to accept the conditions, but you couldn’t deny Mikey.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” You exclaim after slamming the door to the vip section of the club open.

You walk right up to the trio who stood with bored expressions on their faces.

“You lied to Mikey and now I’ve been demoted!”

“And you’re blaming us for what?” Rin crossed her arms.

“Don’t pretend you had nothing to do with this. I know it was you three!” You exclaim slamming a finger against her chest.

“You need to relax. The yelling shit is getting old quickly,” Sanzu scolded you, snatching your wrist from Rin’s chest.

“I’m tired of this weird bullshit. You don’t own me. I’m nobody’s fucking toy,” you crossed your own arms as you eyed all of them. “I don’t want to hang out anymore. You’re nothing but fucking weirdos who have control issues.”

Your head is forced to the side as you feel a stinging sensation on your cheek, blood dripping from your nose.

Your eyes are wide before you pull your arm back and backhand Sanzu, a grunt leaving her lips.

She quickly recovers with a reddened hue on her angry facial expression, blood dripping from her nose as both of her hands wrap around your neck. She squeezed your air way shut which causes you to claw at her hands.

Rin rolled her eyes as Ran watched the display with an unamused gaze.

Sanzu forced you to land on the couch, back against the seat as she climbed on top of you. You continue to struggle by attempting to peel her fingers off of you—failing in the process. You reach for her neck but your arms grow weak as the corner of your vision becomes engulfed by black dots.

The Haitani sisters hover over you. Everything felt suffocating—the glares, the hands around your throat, and the circumstances that led to this point.

You began to cough and suck in harsh breaths once Sanzu released you, your own hands grazing against the bruised skin of your neck.

“Why do you have so much fight in you? We could’ve gotten you fired and killed. Why not accept your position?” Rin questioned.

“Because it isn’t fair! You’re taking everything from me! My job, my identity, and my dignity! What more do you fucking want?” Your hands meet your head as your nails prick your scalp.

This isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you wanted to learn to release control and lean into your feminine side. This also isn’t what you expected for close friendship to be like. This entire situation has confused you and the drugs are taking a toll on your mental health.

You admired the women in front of you at first, but now you see who they truly are. It has been a truly confusing journey and you’ve realized that maybe you should have been grateful for who you were before.

Maybe you should’ve been more grateful for your freedom of identity instead of allowing others to dictate everything about you in desperation of yearning to be someone else.

Maybe if you had accepted yourself from the beginning, it wouldn’t have been so easy for someone to swoop in and manipulate you into becoming who they want you to be. You may not know who you are, but you know that this isn’t the ideal life for you.

“What have I told you about thinking so hard, Y/n? Dolls don’t need to think,” Ran reminded you.

“I’m not a fucking doll! I’m a human being! Are you mentally unwell?”

A hand snatches your jaw as piercing blue eyes embed themselves with your own irises.

“You’re whatever the fuck we tell you to be. You can either get that through your skull, or leave Bonten by dying from Mikey’s hand,” Sanzu hissed.

“I guess I’ll just have to die then! I’d rather have freedom than to keep living for other people!” You exclaim.

“You’re not gonna die until we want you to,” Rin says in response.

“Pretty girl, you’re mine forever,” Rin says as her face dips between your bare legs.

Ran rummages through Sanzu’s purse, the bag placed on the table. When she finds the tabs, she peels one out and drops it into Rin’s unfinished glass of alcohol.

“Maybe we should keep you drugged more often. I like it better when you’re begging for me to make you cum,” Sanzu chuckled, blood soaking her teeth as she smiled.

You were bent over on all fours, your face lying on the bed as you begged Sanzu to stop her thrusts. You had already orgasmed three times, the overstimulation becoming painful as she continued to use the strap-on against you from behind.

“You’re gonna cum again because I want you to,” she hissed, her fingers tightening against your ass.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Ran says as she squeezed your cheeks, forcing your mouth open as Sanzu held your wrists down.

Rin switches positions and uses one hand to press your forehead down to keep you pinned in place while using her other fingers to squeeze your nose shut.

You are forced to gulp down the roofied beverage as you shut your eyes tightly from the burning sensation of the alcohol.

“You’re so perfect like this, my pretty doll,” Ran whispered in your ear before her teeth met with your neck.

Your life is no longer your own…

But was it ever truly yours?

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 year ago

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Different

Arsenal Women x Teen!Reader

Summary: You're different from the other kids

To your Mam, it was like the end of the world.

To you, it was something you had seen approaching from a while away. You'd never been the most coordinated of people. Your spatial awareness was terrible and it was like your limbs applied what your brain told them with a five-second delay.

You'd known since you were little that you were different.

You think your Mam knew too.

You'd never really been able to play football with her, no matter how hard you'd tried when you were younger. Sports weren't your thing.

You knew that she was disappointed in that but she'd tried to find different hobbies for you.

You had cried after your third guitar lesson, your fingers making it difficult to pluck the strings, and you felt the same way about art.

It was only a matter of time that something like this happened. Honestly, you think it should have happened long before that.

Your teachers had always been willing to sweep your bad handwriting under the rug. They had always written it off as you not caring enough or having no interest in the lesson. You were scatterbrained at times and got easily distracted when you were bored. Your hands shook at the idea of catching a ball or using a paintbrush.

Everyone had just put it down to being a slow learner with low self-esteem.

Nobody ever realised you had never really improved.

Except for your math's teacher.

He had noticed the signs this year when he took over your class.

So, here you were, sat in the canteen at Arsenal with hunched shoulders as your mother ranted and raved to the others.

"There's nothing wrong with her!" Katie denied as she paced back and forth in front of you. "Who the hell does he think he is? Saying there's something wrong with her?"

"He actually said that?" Leah asked, eyes wide.

Katie dropped her arms. "Essentially! He said that it was in her best interest to get her tested! There's nothing wrong with her!"

You held your tongue. There was something wrong with you, you thought. You knew you were different to the other kids. You'd made your peace with that a while ago.

You had your exams next year and you dreaded it. It took you nearly a full week to write essays. You didn't know how you would cope if you had to write them under exam conditions.

You clutched at your school report, willing yourself not to cry. It was all the same, each and every one of them.

Homework Performance: Below Average

Assessment Performance: Below Average

In Class Contributions: Average

Overall Grade: F

Comments: y/n is a very bright girl in one-on-one or class discussions but needs to apply herself more in her written work

It was the same thing over and over again. You could do nothing right when it came to written work. You could barely hold your pen or finish off your thoughts within the time frame of your mocks.

"How dare they!" Steph continued, jumping in on what your Mam was saying. "She's very smart! Katie, you can't let them treat her like this!"

You blinked away your tears as Beth ran a soothing hand up and down your arm.

"I'll be having words!" Katie insisted," There's nothing wrong with her! It's not her fault they're not teaching her properly!"

You loved your Mam, you really did but you could never get a word in about this stuff. It had been a constant problem that started all the way back in Year 2 when your teacher brought up serious worries.

'She's just a slow learner' your Mam had insisted. 'She'll get there' she'd promised.

Only you weren't a slow learner and you never did get there.

It was like the rest of your classmates had left you behind in a marathon and you were sprinting just trying to catch up. They had left you behind in the dust until they were nothing but specks in the distance while you had already collapsed from the exhaustion of it all.

You never even crossed the starting line.

More tears fell onto your closed fists. It took everything in you not to cry out loud.

"It's okay," Alessia said softly to you," Katie'll sort it out."

You didn't want Mam to sort it out. You didn't want this to be swept away again.

Your exams were next year and you just wanted someone to fix you. You wanted someone to tell you what was so fucked up in the head that holding a pen in your hand was your version of playing against prime Barcelona for the rest of your life.

"Hey," Leah said. Her hand was on your shoulder now and you tried not to flinch away, hunching your back so you could curl into yourself. "This means nothing. You're so smart and if those teachers are grading you unfairly then Katie's gonna let them have it."

"They're not grading me unfairly," You choked out," I just can't write. Leah, I can't write anything."

"Your handwriting's a little messy," Leah tried to soothe you, not knowing that her misunderstanding of the situation was making everything worse," But that's okay. You've got plenty of time to work on it."

Your eyes flicked to look at her, red and puffy as you beseeched her to understand," I've been working on it my whole life, Leah. I can't write."

"You can."

"Thanks but I need realism right now. I'm failing. Because I can't write during an exam. GCSEs are next summer. I'm screwed."

"It's plenty of time!" Leah said, still trying to hype you up," You'll get there."

"That's what everyone says," You grumbled. You tucked your school report back into your bag.

Your Mam had been writing those off for years, adamant that the teachers were just harsh on you, that slow and steady wins the race. But the race had been long over by now and you were probably closer to the beginning than the finishing line.

"Don't listen to that stupid man," Mam said as she came closer, cradling your cheeks in her hands," He doesn't know what he's talking about. There's nothing to test you about. You're perfect."

You certainly didn't feel perfect. You felt like your world was crumbling and your hands were shaking too much to haul yourself to safety.

You sighed and finally spoke," I want to be tested."

Mam's face turned thundery. "You've no reason to be tested. There's nothing wrong with you."

"There is Mam!" You weren't usually one to shout but this had gone on long enough. "I know it and you know it too. There's something wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong. You're just a bit different but that's okay."

You pulled yourself out of her arms. "I want to be tested. I'm different to the others and I want to know why."

Mam looked like she wanted to argue but someone came to your rescue.

"Katie," Kim said," Get her tested. I know what you're feeling like but, seriously, get her tested, if only so you can be right and you can yell at more teachers. But, if there is something that's affecting her, surely, you want to get support for her?"

Mam sighed, looking over at you as you sobbed in Viv's arms.

She'd known you were different when you didn't hit your milestones as a baby. You were slow to crawl and slow to walk. She knew you were different the moment you let her throw a ball in your face instead of trying to catch it. She knew you were different when you came home in tears at age five because you couldn't write properly or when you got teased at school because your shaking hands couldn't control the paintbrush either.

Katie knew you were different but that didn't mean you were broken. Being tested for something made it seem like there was something wrong. There was nothing wrong with you and Katie would kill anyone who insinuated otherwise.

"Katie," Kim said again," She wants to be tested. Her teachers think it's a good idea. She needs this if only to be a bit more settled."

Katie looked back at you as Lia and Laura offered you food and drink to refuel from your impromptu public breakdown. She sighed.

"I'll...I'll call her Maths teacher back, see if he says any recommendations for where."

#woso x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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prettybaby-reid · 7 months ago

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Criminal Minds topics I could write an essay about:

-Haley is over-hated and many of the things people used to justify disliking her are reaches and actually don’t mean anything in actuality. you can simply just not like her character, but acting like you have real “moral” justification is just delusional atp.

- in 4x22/5x01 when Foyet attacks Hotch in his apartment, it’s 100% s/a in some form. whether it’s in the traditional sense or not, Foyet clearly intends for it to have the same effect on Hotch.

-Yes Elle was valid to a certain extent for shooting the rapist in her second to last appearance, it was 100% not the same thing as Hotch murdering Foyet in episode 100.

-Spencer is highly baby-ified by the fandom and it’s insufferable to watch the way people treat other characters for offhanded teases they make at him.

-Jj wasn’t wrong for not telling Spencer that Emily was alive. Jj was wrong for continuously letting Spencer come over for 10 weeks to cry about it, knowing that Emily was alive and she was playing fucking scrabble with her. She could have easily said she wasn’t able to handle everything and let him go to morgan/garcia.

-The writers of criminal minds know how to write episodes and plotlines, but they don’t know how to write consistent character ideas and backstories. they also don’t know how to properly write characters trauma. immediately after Jj is kidnapped, they’re all in a bar together…that doesn’t make sense. she should be in a hospital or at home, not keke-ing with the homies.

-Although the writers are inconsistent with backstories, some of the things people think “don’t add up” actually do add up if you thought for longer than 5 seconds.

-the Cat Adams plotline and Cat as a character is so good until Reids prison arc when they say that Cat had the other girl s/a him, that’s so out of bounds for her. She hates men for what they do to women, specifically the violence men perpetrate towards women, more specifically s/a and domestic violence…why would she s/a Spencer.

-On the topic of the Cat/Spencer s/a topic…that’s definitely a pullover from the fact that it was supposed to be Hotch who was in prison but they had to switch it after Thomas Gibson left. I have an idea of what it could have originally been considering it was supposed to be Hotch/Mr. Scratch, but no solid proof.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #haley brooks #haley hotchner #elle greenaway #the bau team #george foyet #cat adams #thomas gibson #matthew gray gubler

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prickly-paprikash · 1 year ago

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Something cool about Blue Eye Samurai is how sex is juxtaposed with the end-goals.

I really love how our three protagonists are all obsessed. And that obsession defines them, torments them, and are subsequently reborn through their obsessions.

Mizu, of course, is obsessed with the concept of revenge. It's not even about getting even or getting justice as some might use to justify the bloody road taken—it is simply about seeking satisfaction for Mizu. She cuts a bloody swathe across Japan because of what the Four White Devils did to her mother and herself. She does not concern herself with the ramifications of her wrath but merely charges forward, leaving behind a trail of viscera and gore behind her.

Like I said before, her vengeance and obsession with satisfaction is not painted by the show as wrong. It is how she allows it to affect others along the path. It's why the episode with Madame Kaji is so enlightening; Mizu should not tackle this quest as a vengeful revenant; an onryō. She has let the world define her as a monstrosity and so she embraced it, when Swordfather and Madame Kaji knew what the correct path was to satiate her need for vengeance. Treat her sword as the Artisan's tool it truly is. Treat her body the way an Artist would treat their canvas.

Madame Kaji and Swordfather are both outcasts, for being a woman and a blind man. Yet they found strength in their exclusion, becoming single-minded in their fields of art. Because sex is art and swordsmithing is art. It's what makes Mizu's body writing scene so fucking good.

Artistic vision becomes stagnant when one pulls from only one source. They become rigid and unbending when Mizu, like her namesake, must be fluid. She has shown fluidity in her use of her gender and her morals, but cannot apply that same flexibility towards her goal. Throughout season one, she was becoming an uninspired artist, merely painting the world in hues of scarlet. In a world that forces Women to be either Wives or Whores, Mizu chose to be a Warrior—but a warrior fights for a cause, whether it be just or otherwise. A soldier fights in an army. Mizu is neither of these things. She is an Artist first and foremost, and her medium is Death. Sex, something Mizu was at first hesitant before her failed marriage, and something she actively avoided afterwards, is what gives her a new perspective. Like an Illustrator studying life to better draw their intended worlds, taking inspiration from wherever one can find it.

Taigen and Akemi are also equally affected by the artistry of sex, as befitting of Mizu's fellow protagonists.

Akemi is quite obviously Mizu's narrative foil. Mizu chases after revenge like a bloodhound whereas Akemi longs for freedom like a bird in a cage. Both are fierce women who are unsatisfied with their lot in life, with their sex and gender being used against them in their lives. Literally, the episode "The Tale of the Ronin and the Bride" is a fucking triple entendre:

Mizu is the Ronin as well as the Bride.

The play showcases the tale of the Ronin and the Bride.

It is also Mizu as the Ronin and Akemi as the Bride.

And when Mizu finds her center as she melts down her blade and engages in body writing, this scene of enlightenment is juxtaposed with Akemi laying with her new husband Takayoshi. Both, in this moment, are taking control of their lives through sex. They are both taking control of their futures through the ways Madame Kaji taught them. Mizu and Akemi are both rebels against this oppressive society, and are both talented artists with their body. Whether that be sex, politicking, or ass-kicking.

Taigen, like the two women before, finds freedom through it but in a more subtle manner.

Where Mizu and Akemi are narrative foils, both using sex as a form of art and escape, Taigen finds liberation through his awakening.

Like the closeted bisexual man he is, he begins his journey of self-realization when he first encounters Mizu at the Dojo.

Every single battle these two have is purposefully rife with sexual tension. All his life, Taigen has been taught that a man must live with honor. That he must take control of his life and his identity, or he will have failed and that he is better off dead than to live with such shame.

Taigen is just as much a victim of the Patriarchal society around him. Mizu rails against it violently. Akemi seeks to run away from it all. And Taigen, with the privilege given to him by his manhood, chooses to become a perpetrator, enabling the vicious wheel of society to keep moving forward.

His obsession with honor leads him to hunting down and even protecting Mizu. Mizu is no doubt the better warrior, but even she knows she owes so much to Taigen. The blockhead not only did everything to protect her in the valley, but also sealed his lips shut even under the duress of torture. His obsession with honor becomes an obsession with Mizu.

His regrets over tormenting her over her looks and ethnicity as a child. His shame in having lost so decisively in his own dojo. Taigen was a man born with nothing and climbed up to the top with every advantage he could muster, and suddenly it's all ripped away by this one vengeful spirit passing by.

Taigen learns to surrender control around Mizu. He begins to discover his own sexuality and purpose around Mizu, redefining what honor really means to him now that he, as a man, has a budding attraction towards the man who beat him.

Mizu's Vengeance. Akemi's Freedom. Taigen's Honor. In all three, Sex becomes a catalyst in redefining what each of these concepts truly mean to them all. It's not just sex of course, but it is undeniable how the writers keep juxtaposing sexual acts and thoughts with massive character moments.

It changes how Mizu chases after her Vengeance. It recontextualizes how Akemi can be Free. It showcases the absurdity of the Honor forced upon Taigen.

It's so fucking refreshing seeing Sex not used as fanservice or shoe-horned in just to further a stale, poorly written cis-heterosexual romance; but used as a plot point that cannot be ignored. An impetus that fuels the narrative.

Moving forward, I'm curious as to how sex will be used.

The next few ideas aren't as sound or organized because I'm neither Asexual nor Genderfluid, so please if anyone reads this who understands it better, feel free to point it out.

I think it'd be cool if Mizu met the inverse of Madame Kaji. A person who is apathetic to sex. Sure, Swordfather has shades of this, but I'm tired of the person with disabilities also being on the Asexual spectrum. And I'm not saying that Ace or Graysexual people with disabilities don't exist! But they always tend to be written as having some form of disability (Varys from ASOIAF) or a Robot.

Just as artists need a variety of sources to pull inspiration from, I hope in the next seasons we get to see different perspectives on sex and gender. In London, it feels like Mizu finding the other half of herself, and with that having a better way of tackling her own identity. Whether it be gender, sex, combat, etc.

Basically what this inane rambling amounts to is that Blue Eye Samurai tackles sex and violence and revenge and obsession in ways that most media has yet to truly do. So that was pretty cool.

#blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai spoilers #blue eye samurai season 2 #mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #akemi #taigen #metal #media analysis #character analysis #blue eye samurai meta #netflix are cowards for not announcing season 2 immediately #come on dickheads #the fans and the creators have been fighting for the green light #hand it over #you cocks #paprikash ramblings

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mrsparrasblog · 7 months ago

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Loser Simon

Tw: he is really pathetic, choking, stalking, masturbation, unprotected sex, baby trapping, micro penis,

A/N: credits to @dumbbitchgalore got inspired by her Pathetic Price fic

The light flickered in the dirty bathroom stall of the pub he went to after Price said they needed to celebrate their win. Well, it was his win; the others were just there. He had every reason to be cocky today. He was a handsome bloke with big muscles and perfect at his job. So when that bird approached him at the pub, which Johnny had eyed for hours, he thought, "Fuck it," and went with her into the dirty pub toilet.

His self-confidence struck again, too high. He should know by now what was about to happen when she removed his jeans, revealing his small member in contrast to his big size. Most of the time, the women or men started to laugh at him before they left. Some hoped he was a grower—he wasn’t. The worst was when a woman finally managed not to laugh, and he came in her face before she even put her lips on him. To a certain degree, he knew he was pathetic, but his confidence always got in his way, so he tried again and again, with the same result.

His sloppy lips licked hers, eager for her to grant his long tongue entrance. His big hands massaged the soft flesh of her ass before she went down on her knees, fighting with his belt. She was so eager, expecting the biggest dick she had ever seen from the 6’4" man. Unfortunately for Simon, she started to laugh when she saw his tiny package standing proud and already leaking precum like a faucet. "That's a joke," she said and just didn’t stop laughing at him, making him lose his cool. He wrapped his calloused hands around her delicate throat. He knew he wouldn’t kill her—he wasn’t a psychopath, after all. "If you tell anyone, I’ll fucking kill you," he threatened. Her laughing stopped and turned to an expression of pure fear as she nodded to keep his small secret.

"That was fast, mate," Gaz mentioned as Ghost returned to their booth.

"That bird was into crazy shit, and I don’t dip my dick in crazy," he replied, getting an approving nod from Price and Gaz, who had their fair share of crazy women over the years. But only Johnny raised his brow suspiciously. He always knew something was wrong with the Lt's sex life—not that he minded, but it was suspicious.

Price didn’t flirt with birds since he was still obsessed with his ex-wife, comparing every woman to Mrs. Price, who he cheated on in a moment of weakness. Kyle didn’t flirt with the girls or boys in the pub since he had a friends-with-benefits thing with you, the most beautiful nurse on base. Poor Kyle fell for you in that act. He himself flirted with every above-average attractive lad or lass who went into the pub, but Ghost—he never had a girl at home, and all the girls he took with him for fun returned minutes later with a traumatized look on their faces. Johnny was pretty sure the Lt was into some kinky stuff or was one of those guys who busted their load way too fast. He just knew something was wrong.

----------------------------

He had half a mind to go to the brothel for his birthday to finally get over his fucking virginity. They were paid to do it, so they wouldn’t turn him down or laugh at him. His plans changed quickly when he saw you in front of his barrack, holding a cupcake with a candle in it, telling him "Happy Birthday" with that beautiful smile of yours. He really wanted to say thank you, but instead, he just looked at you and grumbled. You tried to lighten the mood by telling him you baked it yourself and that it was red velvet.

"How do you know I like red velvet?"

"You always choose red velvet over any other flavor when there are cookies in the mess hall," your eyes still shined as you held the delicious treat under his nose. He grabbed it without even saying a simple thank you and closed the door. Well, Kyle told you, you shouldn’t bring him something for his birthday. The Lt was weird and mean, was all he said. You should be happy if he didn’t spit in your face after trying your treats.

Kyle’s warning was fair. You shouldn’t have baked for the Lt—not because of his rude gestures. You just should never feed a stray dog, or it gets attached to you. And having that big broody Lieutenant attached to you was a death sentence you weren’t prepared for.

-------------------------------------------------------

Ghost knew he wasn’t a particularly good human, never was, and never would be. But right now, he felt like the worst human alive. Ever since you gave him that sweet treat, he was obsessed with you. It started innocently—he wanted to find out your name, your dislikes, your friends. It went a bit too far when he knew your blood type, bra size, and social security number. But that happens, okay? You need to forgive him for being so eager. It’s romantic, after all—or at least, that’s what he told himself.

But now he stood in your room while you were roaming around the base, his small dick in one hand and a pair of your used panties he nicked from the laundry bin in the other. The images of you weren’t enough anymore. He needed the real thing—needed to smell and taste you, finally make you his.

Your panties smelled so good to him. All thoughts of getting a prostitute flushed away. You’d be the one to take his virginity. You’re way too sweet to laugh at him. You’ll take him and love him—all his selfishness, the killing—you won’t care. You will love him just like he loves you.

Something was different. Your friends called you paranoid, but you couldn’t be. For a month, no guy hit on you, Kyle broke off your fuck buddy arrangement—god, you missed his dick—no CO yelled at you, you lost at least 20 pairs of your panties. Your pillow smelled weirdly no matter how often you washed it or even replaced it. Your shampoos and perfumes went empty. You were probably going crazy. Your friends were right.

You were already putting on your pajamas when the door rang. To your surprise, the Lieutenant stood in front of you. "We’re going on a date."

"Uh, how about you ask me first?" you argued. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want to—everyone around the base had a crush on him, and you kind of did too. But still, he could have asked.

He didn’t even answer and gave you a big bag. "In 30 minutes outside."

You went inside and opened the bag. To say you were shocked was an understatement of the year. Inside the bag was the black dress you eyed in the mall a month ago in your size, the YSL heels you pinned on Pinterest, and even a set of Victoria's Secret underwear. How did he know all this stuff? Maybe Kyle told him your size, you thought. And who are you to complain about free YSL heels?

The date was interesting. Simon—how you should call him from now on—didn’t talk much, but he was a good listener. He looked even hotter without the mask and paid for the bill without even a blink. If he had talked, it would have been the best date of your life.

Back at the base, he pushed you against the wall, claiming your mouth as his. Everything about him was big and clumsy. You tried to teach him that your nipples weren’t a trigger on a gun, and he was at least eager to learn—that’s more than you’d expect from most of your Tinder dates.

You were surprised when you pulled his dick out from his pants, and he wasn’t as big as everyone thought he would be. But hey, that’s okay. At least it wouldn’t hurt, you thought, as you slowly glided your cunt on his leaking cock. The sounds Simon made were heavenly—he didn’t hold back like other men. He was moaning and whimpering while you bounced on his dick, his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

His thick fingers drew circles around your clit, pulling moans from you. He was so attentive, focusing on your needs, and fuck, everything his dick lacked, his fingers could give you.

"Oh God, Simon," you whimpered as he increased the speed of his thick digits circling your pearl like no one ever did before. Making you cum wasn’t a side quest for him—it was everything that mattered right now.

"So good for me, Babygirl. Fuck, show me how much you love being filled out by me." Your cunt started to clench around him when he used that commanding voice on you. It didn’t take much for Simon to finally bust his load inside of you, heavy balls being emptied as you milked him for all he was worth.

"I love you, Babygirl," was all he muttered. You would have run away if you weren’t in an orgasmic bliss.

He was incredibly proud of himself for how long he lasted, and that you didn’t notice how he came in his pants after you kissed him for the first time. That could happen, okay?

Simon caressed your hair while you lay on top of his strong body. He was 1000% sure that he was going to marry you. You took his dick without laughing, and you’re so sweet. He should teach you to get rid of your naivety tho. Having sex without condoms on the first date—really, sweetheart? As if your sugar pills could prevent him from knocking you up.

#cod #cod mwii #call of duty #cod x reader #cod mw2 #tf 141 #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #ghost #simon my beloved #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost x oc

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shootingstarwritings · 9 months ago

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A Beta makes, an Alpha takes

TW: homophobic slurs

Eduardo Garcia was a content creator who, like many others in his field, lived in the SolCal area. He was a self-described ladies man and an amateur pick-up artist. Most of his videos and livestreams focused on giving life advice for men. That night was the same as it always was, with Ed saying his catchphrase, “A beta makes, an alpha takes,” to his impressionable audience.

Once the stream ended and he counted his donations, Ed made his way to the bar. It didn’t take long for him to find another girl to screw. His type was always the same: eager young women new to town and looking for something deep and steady.

After a long and sensual session, the girl whose name he forgot asked if what Ed wanted for breakfast that morning. She had wanted to cuddle, but Ed’s protests kept her at bay. Ed pretended to think for a while before saying, “I’ll treat ya. It’ll be a surprise,” before kissing her.

Around five the following morning, Ed snuck out of her apartment having lost zero winks of sleep that night. ‘Not my fault there’s so many suckers in this town,’ he thought to himself, grinning the whole way back to his apartment. ‘They wouldn’t fall for fellas like me if they had a lick of common sense. I just do what I do. If they don’t wise up then it’s on them.’

That morning should’ve been like all the other ones for Ed. He was in a fantastic mood to grab a quick bite and then spend some time in the gym after scoring as hard as he did the night before. However, just as he reached the floor his apartment was on, he caught sight of his neighbor standing unusually still.

Carlos was exactly everything that Ed hated about the SolCal area. They were in the same field as influencers, but Carlos focused more on “Affirmations of the self,” and “Queer rights,” and other stuff Ed had long-since forgotten about. Carlos had gone to great detail to explain, but Ed had mostly tuned out whatever didn’t relate to Carlos’ follower count or the cash he was making. Knowing the two would never get along, Ed preferred to avoid Carlos altogether, even if he did secretly wish the two would collab so that Ed’s follower count would grow.

Yet, on that morning, Ed couldn’t take his eyes off of Carlos. He stood in front of his apartment door, staring blankly ahead. A few moments passed, but the man didn’t even blink. Ed knew he should just leave him along and mind his own business, but a nosy part of him urged him forward.

“Hey man,” Ed called out, “You okay? You’ve been standing there for like an hour or something.”

Carlos’ head immediately snapped towards the direction of Ed’s voice, causing the latter to nearly jump out of his skin. “I was unable to court another female,” said Carlos in a stilted, unnatural tone. “I was reviewing what I did wrong. Forgive the intrusion.”

‘Court another female. So the fag’s trying to get with chicks, now?’ thought Ed before being struck by a genius business idea. “Good on ya, man!” Any prior concerns about Carlos’ odd behavior were discarded to the wind as Ed wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed. “Good to see ya swinging for the right team. ‘bout time you dropped all that fag shit,” he said, pointing a thumb to the pride flag hanging on Carlos’ door.

“Fag shit…?” echoed Carlos, but he didn’t offer any resistance as he was guided to Ed’s apartment.

“You came to the right place, my friend. Nobody knows how to pick up the ladies quite like this lady-killer.”

“You kill them?”

“Ha-ha! Aw, ya crack me up, big guy. C’mon, I’ll give ya a few pointers.” For Ed, giving Carlos several of his lessons and even showing him the streaming setup was an investment. He was gaining much money from doing this, but all he needed was to win Carlos’ trust over and he’d be swimming in new subs and a brand new market to sell. There just had to be guys who played for both teams on Carlos’ faggy audience, he assured himself.

After about half an hour of coaching, Carlos repeated Ed’s lessons like a college student cramming for a final. “A beta makes, an alpha takes.” For whatever reason Carlos seemed particularly fond of that phrase.

“We’re the men. The providers! That’s why we gotta remind this pussified society who’s really in charge. The alphas,” said Ed, flexing his bicep to punctuate his point. His body was one of the few things he had worked honestly for. Steroids and diets were a frequent topics in his online rants. To Ed, if one couldn’t get a body like his naturally, then they couldn’t call themselves a real man.

“And this has worked to acquire mates?”

“Mates? Bro, I’m swimming in pussy. And soon you will too,” said Ed. He lightly tapped Carlos’ chest. “With a bod like this? It’ll be even easier. Stick with me and I’ll get you laid. Just, uh, don’t forget ‘bout that collab I mentioned.”

Carlos, after what seemed like an eternity of stone-cold stoicism, finally cracked a smile. “Yes, I would love to collaborate with you.”

“Awesome! Lemme get something to celebrate.” It was still early in the morning, but it was always five o’clock somewhere, right? Ed made hi way over to his fridge and pulled some of the quality beer. The cheap stuff was reserved for those rare moments he had a girl over. “We gotta celebrate this new friendship of ours, my man. I got--!”

Carlos tackled Ed as he walked back to the living room. The two crashed onto one of his couches in a mess of struggling limbs. “Yo, what the fuck, man?!” cried Ed. He tried to push Carlos off, but froze as he saw Carlos’ body convulsing and his eyes rolling up, showing the whites. Seizure? Stroke?

Before Ed could reach for his phone in his pocket, Carlos leaned forward and locked lips with him. As soon as the two made contact, a slimy creature flowed from Carlos’ mouth into Ed. Once the substance made contact with Ed, his body began unresponsive. He tried to struggle and push Carlos off of him, but his arms remained heavy and limp. More and more of the slime pumped into Ed until Carlos’ body, unconscious yet still convulsing rolled off of the couch.

Ed couldn’t move but he could still feel a chilling sensation spread throughout his body, filling him up. The slime crawled down his throat and began to expand inside of him. Most of it traveled down his esophagus and began to assimilate his core, arms, legs, and toes. Each limb seized and shook as it became corrupted by the invader.

Ed tried to scream as it fell the creature fill his head and coating his brain, yet he could do nothing but endure the sickening yet pleasurable feeling. It was filling him up, and for whatever reason, Ed couldn’t help but enjoy the way the creature dominated him. His body, still unresponsive to his pleas for help, merely humped the air and sensually moan as it was taken over.

Eventually, Ed blacked out. The last thing he perceived was his hands touching his face and his own laughter.

~~~

‘Please, give me my body back,’ whined Ed.

“Give it a rest, Ed,” the creature possessing Ed said, grinning to himself. “Thank you for providing this impressive specimen, by the way. I quite enjoyed the takeover.” He tilted his head as he read the magazine. “Hmm, you are well-endowed, indeed. Perfect for my mission.”

A few days had passed since the creature slithered into Ed’s body. Ed had woken up to see his body piloted by some kind of foreign invader. Despite Ed’s pleads, it refused to give up control, saying, “I’ve been needing a strong and virile specimen to breed and spread.”

‘You can’t fucking do this to me! It’s not right,’ Ed begged from the recesses of his own mind. ‘I’m a human being. I don’t deserve this!’

“Your mind is intact, is that not enough for you?” the creature said as he jerked Ed’s cock in the couch. “You could have ended up like my previous experiment. Right, Carlos?”

“Right you are, my alpha,” said the thing inside of Carlos. Ed tried to look away from Carlos’ naked and puppeted body, but the creature didn’t have the decency to give him that.

Carlos was not the creature’s first victim, but it was the first that didn’t suffer massive brain damage from the creature’s invasive efforts. However, the creature still hadn’t quite managed to access Carlos’ memories and personality. It had managed to figure out the basics and just needed one more attempt to do a proper possession. Ed was the creature’s first success, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“What else do you wish, my master?” said Carlos as he eagerly marched over to Ed, swaying his hips and sticking his ass out as he spoke. “Do you want to breed me once more? Fill me up with more of your spawn so I may go and spread?”

While Carlos hadn’t suffered brain damage, but the trauma of the invasion caused him to become catatonic. To remedy this, Carlos was the first one to received the creature’s spawn. The creature, riding high thanks to Ed’s disgust at the homosexual act, fucked Carlos’ body and let one of its children pilot the still-living husk.

“Please, act a bit more like your host would. Keep reviewing the videos.” Ed mentally screamed to himself as his invader forced him to say that. Even if the creatures had little idea as to how to blend in society, the sheer amount of content that Carlos and he made would guarantee that they had plenty of references for impersonating them. “Later, I’ll pump you full. I just… need to explore this body of mine a bit more.”

Carlos cleared his throat before giving a sweet, nonchalant smile. “No prob, my man. Later we should go out, though. Get familiar with the area.” He winked and said, “Later,” just as Carlos always did.

‘Please, let me go,’ Ed tried once more. The idea of the creature doing this to his friends and family, acting like him the whole time, was a hell he couldn’t bear. ‘I-I’ll even hook you up with another better. Better bodies, just please let me go…’ Ed internally sobbed.

“You’re quite pathetic,” the creature sneered as it violated Ed’s body once more. “Where’s your bravado, Eddie~? You were swimming in pussy just a few days ago. Now you’re pounding men and craving cock.” Ed’s body let out a malicious laugh as ropes of cum erupted from his stolen dick. “It’s like you always said. A beta makes, an alpha takes.”

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