#TW Criminal Exploitation

[rozengermain]

A "Father's" False "Love"

Forwarning: I am going to be talking about some heavy subject matter, if this upsets you, turn back.

A bit earlier, I reblogged some (really good) fanart of Genshin Impact, specifically, of the Fontaine Twins and Arlecchino, and in the tags I said this:

"There is no way Arlecchino sees [Lyney and Lynette] as anything BUT tools"

I also mentioned that Scaramouche/The Wanderer had not nice things to say regarding her, and this is what he has to say:

However, I forgot that Childe doesn't have nice things to say about here either:

I wanted to elaborate on what I said back there based on some research I did on child exploitation (The only form I knew of was grooming up till now) for a prediction regarding this bitch basically.

Initially, I assumed that she was guilty of some form of grooming, but then my research made it abundantly clear that she was not, and it was in fact a DIFFERENT form of child exploitation that she was guilty of: so let's talk about child criminal exploitation (CCE for short, I will be using that from now on).

Child Criminal Exploitation (CCE) is when an individual manipulates an exploits someone (A minor in the case of CCE but anyone can be a victim of this) with the intent of using the individual for criminal activity. What are the Fatui guys even doing? Well they are basically war criminals: the army so I think you can see where this is going. Arlecchino is basically exploiting children and manipulating them with the intent of turning them into war criminals. Hell, in the Sumeru area, there is a questline that involves ANOTHER House of Hearth kid who was ordered by Dottore to kidnap children in order to capture an aranara to experiment on! Crimes that he (if I remember correctly) feels an obligation to do likely for "Father's" sake, despite the fact that he doesn't like it. I think it is safe to say that she is exploiting children for criminal purposes here.

But now to the "tool" thing. Does Arlecchino truly love the Hearth orphans, or does she just see then based on how she can use them? From what Scara and Childe had to say, I feel it is the latter. WHile we have yet to meet her, the fact that she is guilty of CCE and the fact that Scara calls her "a wolf in sheeps clothing" and implies she is controlling, doubled with Childe thinking of her as treacherous, I think it might be safe to say that her affectionate nature to the Heath orphans might just be an act. Considering how children are manipulated by people with malicious intent (which she definitely has) I think one reason she might be so sugary to them is because that makes them love her, and want to please her, thus making them easier to manipulate. The same goes to her taking Lyney and Lynette in specifically. They were victims of abuse before they ended up with her, and I think Arlecchino saw that she could exploit them because of it, love-bombing them and acting like she cares about them. Sad, no? This would mean that they thought they had escaped abuse, only to still end up in the clutches of an abuser....

[brutalmasks]

ahh... just thinking about how one of the first things that bunny mask did whenever she was liberated from her cave was search for her quote unquote ' creator, ' as she would put it. and whenever bunny found no one to speak of that fulfilled that role for her, the emptiness that she felt inside was immeasurable, for lack of better words. because although she is able to make friends with people quite quickly depending on the other person and i could very much imagine her becoming a parental figure to a child; it just makes her feel a little bit like maybe she wasn't worthy of being given one and like she's got a void inside of her heart that she just can't fill. because in bunny mask's mind, whenever you aren't able to fall back on friends for whatever the reason may be, that is where your parent/s step in and the fact that she doesn't seem to have any... means that she's got to hold onto them twice as hard. because if they leave her, then bunny mask thinks that she'll be without any sort of support system, including even tyler because he was her friend first before they were on-and-off again lovers.

and the last thing that bunny mask wants to be is alone. though she is exactly the type of being to put on a brave face in front of people, no matter what she may be going through, bunny mask honestly was so starved for interaction after all of those centuries that she spent in the cave below the fosters home that these bonds that she's made with people since then — they mean a hell of a lot to her and she sort of subconsciously is exceedingly loyal to them out of fear that they may decide one day that they don't like her anymore, as there isn't something that she can give them that they can't find somewhere else; if that makes any sense. i guess basically what i'm trying to say is that, under the surface, bunny mask is somewhat insecure in her relationships and if she doesn't offer them something valuable like loyalty then she thinks they might not want to stick around with her. so, in a way, bunny mask is always thinking of ways that she can make her friends life better not only because she wants to but to ensure that they are getting something in return for their investment in her as a friend.

which, i realize is a kind of sad way to have to view friendship, but bunny mask had already been a loyal being before this mindset had taken effect in her mind, i guess you could say. i mean bunny will literally defend those who she loves with such a fervor that if one of her friends had done something bad that her first impulse would be to deny that they had and then, if/when it had been confirmed, she would literally just deflate like a balloon because bunny mask may or may not have a tendency to sometimes put those she likes on a pedestal; so whenever the illusion of them being able to 'do no wrong' in her eyes is finally broken... bunny wouldn't even be mad at them for a little while. depending on the severity of what they'd done, she'd either just become disappointed in them, or completely disheartened by it and would still not want to believe it to a certain degree. but bunny mask certainly wouldn't do this forever as she is aware that other beings can be morally dubious and/or capable of doing evil things, of course. it's just that, even when she platonically loves someone, she loves them with all of her heart often times and so it seems to effect her heavily if it is particularly criminal or wrong.

and don't get me wrong, bunny mask would still go after someone even if they were a friend of hers once upon a time if they had committed a crime / some kind of heinous act because that is what she is convinced her purpose is on this earth. bunny will just be simultaneously heartbroken at them AND then become angry later that they had done such a thing. whichhh could be quite bad news for the now ex-friend or whoever they might've been to her NGL because an angry bunny mask is bad enough BUT a heartbroken and angry bunny mask? you better start running, because she would be liable to turn you into a shish-kabob or something JSJSJ 💀 nahhh, i'm only halfway being serious here LOL but honestly, if there is any way that you can avoid attracting bunny's ire, then i would totally suggest it because uhhh. breaking her heart does tend to make her more aggressive when she's 'hunting' someone

[on-leatheredwings]

Secret Admirer

Yandere! Dick Grayson / Yandere! Green Lantern! Gender Neutral Reader

> romantic > tw/cw: yandere behaviors. Kissing. Heavy petting. > rated M > summary: You should stop playing with fire. Because when you do, you make him want to be crazy. Crazier. And Dick’s worked really, really hard to wrap those habits up. > a/n: wow nothing truly despicable in this one i’m so vanilla now <3 the reader is male to me but feel free to imagine what you want. I rlly like writing pre-yandere + pre-relationship stuff, it’s so fun . may write more for actual smut possibilities > word count: 1472

Newly-acquired powers or not, you are really poking the bear here. 

Dick has known you've been following him since yesterday. He allowed it because who was he if not a performer? He thrived on attention, and especially yours. But today, you had gotten too close to a fight. Sure, you had stayed an appropriate distance away, but the fact it had happened at all was worrying. It made him distracted. Distracted enough that he wasn’t pulling his punches on criminals like usual. 

“Now that it’s getting quite late–” he begins, to which you audibly gasp. An adorable sound. “–how about you finally come out and let me help you?”

He turns around to a swath of darkness that paints the rooftop’s entry door in black shadow.

Behind the corner, you curse. Damn it, he caught you. … Well, you could’ve told yourself this would happen. Dick, the fine friend he was, surely said it would. No one really ‘sneaks up’ on one of the Bats. And definitely not Nightwing, the most tenured of them all aside Batman himself.

You got caught, and lord knows what Nightwing will do to you. You bite your lips, mind running wild. Who knows what Nightwing will do to you, indeed? You feel a pang of arousal at the thought. 

You step out of the shadows, trying to act natural. Nightwing’s eyes lock onto your humble form, and you find yourself warming over every inch of your body. You want him bad.

His body stiffens, for reasons you can’t discern. It doesn’t seem like hostility… you think?

You adjust your domino mask, cursing silently that the adhesive is finally starting to give after a long night of following him around. Stealth isn’t really a natural gift for a Green Lantern, either. Turning down your glow while using your powers to maintain soundless stalking was hard. Harder than expected. 

“What are you doing here?”

You smile, hoping your giddy expression is hidden by the hoodie you’ve chosen to wear on your escapade. 

It certainly is not, which makes Dick pleased.

Now that you've made contact with him, his first thought is that he ought to tell Batman about this. And the rest of the team, while he’s at it. Dick Grayson knows that Nightwing is your 'celebrity' crush, and that you're enamored with the rest of the Bat Family. What if you confronted them someday as well?

On the Batcomputer is a file on John Stewart, complete a footnote that is you. Said footnote has graduated to its own page, now that you have your own hero exploits to document. They'd be less welcoming and more wary of a hero on their turf. He has to protect you.

“I… I…” you croak, tongue heavy with anxiety. You can’t help but be nervous. 

“Sometime tonight?” he teases. 

“You’re beautiful,” you blurt.

He is taken aback, before he recollects his wits. 

“I really like you,” you say again, stepping forward. He lifts his hand in warning. Stay back. You get chills, but don’t stop treading forward. You can tell his eyes are narrowed beneath his mask.

When he’s finally in arms’ reach, you are pushed against the wall. And not roughly at all, you notice. You smile with delight, your hands immediately landing on his shoulders. Nightwing’s glare doesn’t feel hostile at all. Suspicious, maybe. But not hostile.

“... What do you mean by, you “really” like me?” You suspected that he probably wouldn’t believe you.

“Well,” you fluster, “I mean that I really like you.” Dick’s heart jolts. “And I want you.” It nearly flatlines.

Oh, don’t say that, don’t say that, Dick thinks, despite the elation that begins to tighten his throat. You? Want him? If he had known all he needed to do to grab your attention was put on the suit, he would’ve done that ages ago. He felt nearly invisible to you during the day, all his flirtation falling on deaf ears and blind eyes.

At Nightwing’s silence, you lick your lips. An action that makes his eyes dilate behind his mask. 

“I-I’m serious!”

Nightwing leans in closer, as if inspecting the truth in your expression, raking over every atom. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he breathes.

“It’s not a game at all to me,” you say, feeling lightheaded from the small distance between you two. This doesn't feel real.

To love and be loved is all you’ve ever wanted. You’d think that would give you the violet ring of Love. Instead, the ring that had appeared in your hand one fateful night was acid green, sparkling and mesmerizing. Apparently, instead of embodying love, you simply were driven enough to seek it at any costs. Driven enough to never be alone ever again.

You have the ability to overcome great fear. Welcome to the Green Lantern Corps, it said. You had taken it without hesitation.

“Kiss me,” you say, hands rising to cup his jaw. As if he’s not already leaning in.

Your lips meet in an unabashed frenzy. You’re nearly blown away by the pure amount of feeling in his kiss – that's quite a lot of emotion for a stranger. Not that you aren’t equally impassioned. You feel so raw and naked, kissing him. You hope he can't feel all your insanity, your obsession, your infatuation.

However, Dick certainly does, so much that he moans openly, the sound making both your lips buzz.

You make him want to be crazy. Crazier. And he’s worked really, really hard to wrap those habits up. 

You shudder, feeling the pressure of his cup press in between your thighs. God, you wished you could feel the real thing. Your hand slips in between you two, tracing the lines of his abs. Dick shivers. He peels off your domino mask, but you don’t even flinch. You don’t care if he knows who you are. You want him to know everything. Inside and out.

Your eyes flutter open as you gyrate against his hips, sinful and frustrating. You peer up at him, cheeks blazing. You want him.

He looks into your eyes, and it's as if he can read your mind. He wants to swallow you whole. He wants to map every inch of your body. His cock is painfully straining against his suit. You are not a want, but a need.

But Dick is trying to be good, he really is. The night’s not over. He’s still on patrol, technically. You may want Nightwing, but do you want Dick Grayson? If he fucked you on this rooftop, throwing restraint into the wind, would that be taking advantage of you? Do you just hero worship him? All the questions fly through his mind at rapid speed, and he wants them to quiet, before the Angry Orphan inside him decides to just stop caring completely. 

But he… he’s strong. We don't have to be, his mind interjects, screaming at him. But he quiets it. He whimpers at the tightness against his groin, a sound that makes you look at him curiously. You are completely blissfully ignorant to his inner strife. Completely innocent.

Dick narrows his eyes, channeling his best Batman impression.

“You should go home.”

You balk almost comically. “W-wait.” Nightwing retreats, but not before you can grab his wrist. “At least– at least, can we go on a date? Or even hang out? Or–” His thumb traces the curve of your lips, silencing you with a shiver.  

“Go home.” Firmly said, yet gentle.

You frown, though it’s more like a pout. Man, you’re cute, he thinks. “When can I see you again?”

Dick certainly isn’t strong enough to be responsible and say “You can’t.” 

So Nightwing just stares at you, looking… hesitant. The pieces click in your mind. Ah, so he liked it. Your lips curl, like a cat with cream. You take that as a victory.

“... I-I’ll come back tomorrow night,” you state boldly, stealing a chaste kiss before he could argue. Dick has to basically pull himself away, despite his desire to keep your bodies flush and perfectly fitted against one another.

You slip your ring onto your finger, and your entire body glows, rampant with Lantern light. You begin to float.

“Tomorrow!” you blurt, already wanting him again. You zip away, flying home. All the while, you slap at your warm cheeks, trying to see if this is a dream, laughing with glee, mind going haywire with heated fantasies. You kissed Nightwing. You basically groped him. And he didn’t stop you. Oh god, wait until you tell Dick. 

The confrontation went better than expected. At worst, you figured Nightwing would shoo you away, reject you. Despite the abrupt ending, he at least seemed… interested? You try not to dwell on it too much. It doesn’t matter.

You’re a Green Lantern. You’re powerful. Willful. He will be yours, someday.

[pin-k-ink]

bereft // nakahara chuuya

tw ⇢ enemies to lovers, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, accidental love confession, mutual pining, making out, cunnilingus, marking, squirting, pet names, dirty talk, unprotected sex, implied masturbation, creampie, so much feelings, angst, character death, implied suicide, canon divergent

wc ⇢ 11.9k

a/n: uuuuuuh

The dingy Port Mafia bar thrums with raucous energy, neon lights casting lurid shadows across the smoky haze. Drunken laughter and slurred jeers ricochet off the stained walls, punctuated by the clink of glass and rattling ice.

And you've never been so goddamn tense in your life.

It's not like this vile atmosphere is anything new to you. As an agent of the Armed Detective Agency, seedy dens like this are just another Tuesday night's stakeout locale. You've posed as provocative arm candy more times than you can count, all in the name of gathering intel or inching closer to a high-priority target.

But there's something about the charged undercurrent crackling through this specific Port Mafia haunt that sets every nerve on high alert. Perhaps it's the debauched gazes burning into you from the leering criminals crowding the bar. Or the unmistakable sense of danger that lurks behind even the most minor-seeming mafioso's sneering smiles as they appraise your figure lounging in the corner.

You're supposed to be just another jaded call girl looking to cultivate some wealthy "clients" tonight. But you're hyper-aware of the slight bulge beneath your tight minidress - a meticulously concealed holdout pistol that's already becoming sticky against the inside of your thigh from clammy perspiration.

Exhaling a breath, you try to assume an air of boredom as your hooded eyes lazily roam the rowdy crowd. In through the nostrils, out through the pursed lips, nice and slow. You are the picture of vacant disinterest.

Until your roving gaze inadvertently lands on a shockingly familiar figure near the bar, and you instantly choke on the lungful of smoke-hazed air.

There, hunched over a glass of whiskey with furrowed brow and glowering into the amber liquid...is Nakahara fucking Chuuya. That gorgeous mess of orange hair is just as unruly as always, his slim form clothed simply in one of his signature crisp white shirts and dark slacks. You'd recognize the dangerous aura surrounding that unassuming body anywhere, no matter how casual he appears.

A phantom ache blossoms in your abdomen at the sight of him, flashing back to your first run-in with those bullets that marked the start of your endless, bloody game of cat-and-mouse. Unbidden, your fingers twitch toward the reassuring hardness tucked against your outer thigh, mentally counting the number of shots to subdue him.

Just as quickly, you berate yourself for the impulse. Need you forget already? This depraved confrontation was the entire purpose of your undercover operation tonight. Getting close to Chuuya and exploiting any potential vulnerability that could be used to dismantle his new plans...that was the mission you willingly walked into.

Dragging your eyes away from his brooding figure feels like monumental effort. But you manage to resettle your features into that of aloof disdain just as one of the rowdier patrons lets out a wolf whistle in your direction.

"Hey there, pretty thing! You lookin' for some company tonight?"

Here we go - time to work the role you've inhabited so many times before. Tilting your head, you shoot the drunken man your most sultry look, allowing your gaze to brazenly roam over his stocky frame before giving a coy flutter of your lashes.

"Depends...you got the cash to keep me interested, bigboy?"

The loutish grin stretching over his pock-marked face is all the response you need. With a slight sway of your hips, you slink across the bar toward his beckoning hand, mind already whirring on how to maintain this high-risk gambit of seduction and deception.

Just another job in the field, right? You can do this. Stay focused, do not give in to distraction or doubt.

Even if the persistent nagging at the back of your mind unceasingly whispers that those rules unequivocally do not apply whenever Chuuya is involved.

You paste on your most coquettish smile as the greasy patron waves you over with a meaty paw, making sure to add an extra sway to your hip movements. This guy clearly can't resist playing the big man around a pretty face.

"Well now, ain't you just the whole package?" he leers, giving you an exaggerated once-over as you slide into the empty seat beside him. The stench of stale beer and cheap cigars washes over you, making you fight back a wince.

"I do try my best," you murmur demurely, pitching your voice into that husky, sultry register that drives most men wild. Slowly, you lean in closer until your curves are almost brushing against his burly arm, holding his unfocused gaze through the veil of your lashes. "Though I'm sure a strapping guy like you already knew that."

The drunk's chest puffs out slightly at the transparent ego stroke, just like you knew it would. "Heh, damn straight, baby. Feel like letting ol' Daisuke here show you a good time?" One ham-sized hand starts inching up your exposed thigh with inevitable confidence.

Showtime. You allow your lips to quirk into the barest hint of a smirk, keeping your tone low and seductive. "Is that so? Well...I do have pretty discriminating tastes." Gently but firmly, you catch his wandering paw and guide it back to rest innocuously on the bartop. "Why don't you start by getting me a top-shelf drink, stud? Let me know if you've really got the means to keep me..."

You pause to lean in until your mouth is brushing his ear, voice dropping to a whisper. "...satisfied."

The shudder that ripples through Daisuke's broad frame is unmistakable, his pupils dilating to saucer-like dimensions. Without needing to be told twice, he frantically barks for the disgruntled bartender.

As the sleazy patron busies himself ordering the most expensive whiskey in an obvious bid to impress, you allow your gaze to drift away with studied nonchalance. But like a magnet, your eyes are subconsciously seeking out that head of mussed orange hair seemingly out of compulsion. And there he is, still brooding silently over his drink just a few spaces down the bar from where you sit...

Chuuya doesn't appear to have noticed your arrival yet, thank whatever deities exist. His shoulders are hunched and tense beneath that fitted white dress shirt, every once in a while raising his glass to take a measured sip.

You can't quite make out his expression from here, but there's something almost melancholy in the set of his jaw and the slight furrow of his brow that draws your eyes like a magnet. You find your curiosity piqued against your better judgment - just what circumstances could leave even the infamous Chuuya looking so uncharacteristically pensive and...dare you think it...vulnerable?

The ember of an idea begins sputtering in the back of your mind, firing up the nerve endings across your scalp with a sort of electric tingle. If you play your cards right, exploit the right angles just enough to pique his interest without arousing too much suspicion...this could be your ins-

"Hey sweet cheeks! Whiskey on the rocks, just how you like it." Daisuke's raucous voice practically bellowing in your ear shatters your concentration.

You can't quite suppress the slight wince, but quickly school your features back into a mask of allure as you turn your attention to the waiting glass being shoved under your nose. "Why thank you, handsome. That's exactly the kind of drink a powerful man orders for a thirsty girl."

Daisuke's chest puffs out even more, clearly gratified at the praise. "Heh, only the best for a sexy thing like you, darlin'. Love to make a woman purr like a kitten, if you catch my drift."

The wink and lascivious grin he shoots your way makes you mentally retch, but you force your own lips to curl into a coy simper. "Well then, why don't we see if you've really got the means to back that up," you husk out, gesturing discreetly at his bulging wallet with your chin.

The drunken lech practically starts salivating like one of Pavlov's dogs, fumbling the billfold open and stuffing a wad of crumpled tens into your waiting palm. You carefully keep your features impassive as you glance down appraisingly at the measly stack - barely enough for even fifteen minutes of your lowest rate. But you can hardly contain your smirk of satisfaction as you smooth the bills out to make them appear even flimsier.

"Mmm...I suppose this'll do for now, big spender. Long as you don't mind me keeping my options open." You shoot him a pointed look over the rim of your whiskey glass before downing the whole thing in one burning swallow.

The message is clear - your time and company won't come without him investing much, much more if he wants to keep you around for anything more...personal. Sure enough, Daisuke's brows knit together in obvious dismay at your dismissive assessment of his offering.

"Hey now, don't be like that, baby! I'm just getting started over here..."

As his babbling reassurances fade into the background cacophony of the bar, you allow your gaze to drift one final time toward that solitary beacon of orange in your periphery vision. Your ploy seems to have worked - Chuuya's laser focus is piercing directly toward you, brow furrowed even deeper as he openly stares. You don't break eye contact, keeping your expression carefully neutral.

One thin russet brow arches ever so slightly, almost in a silent challenge. Like he suspects the ruse you're running but can't pinpoint exactly why it seems...off. You tilt your chin in response, letting your lips quirk in the barest hints of a smirk before turning your attention fully back to Daisuke's increasingly pathetic groveling.

Hook, line, and sinker. You've got Chuuya's undivided attention now, whether he'll admit it or not.

It's time to really reel him in.

You lean back with deliberate slowness, allowing your low neckline to gape open even more as you eye Daisuke with lidded appraisal. "Well now, aren't you just a sweet talker," you murmur, making sure to drag your pink tongue across your lower lip in an exaggerated swipe.

Daisuke audibly gulps, his gaze dropping in a way that makes you want to deck him even as you fight to keep your features smoothly impassive. "I'll take that as a compliment from a gorgeous gal like yourself," he manages, recovering with a lecherous grin and letting his beefy arm drape across the back of your chair.

You allow the faintest shiver to roll through you, more out of revulsion than any attempt at playing coy. "Why don't we move somewhere a little...quieter, so I can show you just how much I appreciate a real man's flattery?"

The growl that rumbles from the portly man's chest makes the hair on the back of your neck prickle with unease. Subtly, you resettle yourself on the barstool, allowing your knees to fall slightly open and give him a tempting glimpse of creamy inner thigh.

Sure enough, Daisuke's eyes immediately snap downward like a dog ogling a juicy bone, his tongue slipping out to wet his cracked lips. "Whatever you say, babydoll," he husks, greedily dragging his gaze back up your figure. "Why don't you lead the way?"

The barely concealed lust dripping from his tone has you suppressing a grimace, but you channel it into yet another lithe stretch that pulls your tight dress taut across your curves. Sliding off the stool with exaggerated grace, you toss one last smoldering look over your shoulder as you saunter toward the dimly lit hall concealing a warren of private rooms.

"Keep up if you can, tiger. Can't guarantee I'll wait for dawdlers."

The throaty chuckle your words elicit might as well be a wolf's growl for all the stomach-churning effect it has on you. You don't have to look back to know Daisuke is practically tripping over his own feet to follow in your wake, arousal swiftly obliterating any lingering traces of rational thought.

Keeping your swaying steps measured, you silently appraise each secluded nook you pass, searching for one tucked away yet not overly obscured. The arousal thrumming through you is strictly the intoxicating thrill of a successful con rapidly coming to fruition. Just need to seal the deal for Chuuya to find you, but not so easily that it ruins the illusion...

Bingo. You spot a half-hidden alcove at the end of the hallway, shielded just enough by a gauzy curtain to avoid immediate detection. Tossing your head to allow your wild curls to bounce, you make a big show of "stumbling" inside, mussing the drape slightly before glancing back to where Daisuke leers from the hall entrance.

"Almost left you behind, handsome. Care to join me...if you think you can handle it?"

The prospect of convincing prey practically salivating after him is far too tempting for such a simpleton to resist. As expected, Daisuke lurches forward with surprising quickness to slip behind the curtain, meaty hands already outstretched to undoubtedly grope and paw-

Only for his impatient lunge to run smack into an unexpected steel vise grip on his wrist, yanking his motion up short with enough force to make his eyes bulge in shock. A harsh chuckle rumbles from the shadows by his ear.

"Should've known you louts would be sniffing around, as always. Do yourself a favor and stick to pissing up the bar, yeah? Wouldn't want any...unpleasant accidents to happen to your plaything."

With that final snarled comment, Daisuke's wrist gets brutally wrenched in a way that makes him cry out sharply, stumbling back and cradling his now-reddened appendage against his chest. Stunned, he gapes at the vaguely humanoid silhouette now resolving from the back gloom like an apparition.

"Ch-Chuuya-san! I didn't realize...I mean, I was just-"

"Save the pathetic blubbering, worm," the distinctive, gruff baritone growls back, the shadows shifting to reveal a steely glare and familiar mussed hair gleaming like burnished copper in the low light. "Get lost before I decide to make things messier."

That brusque warning appears to be more than enough for the simpering fool. With a strangled whimper, Daisuke gives a clumsy bow and scurries away, abandoning his intended conquest with all the hurry of a dog tucking tail. An almost pitying scoff echoes after him down the hall.

It takes every ounce of your restraint to remain seated and perfectly still, giving no outward sign of the thunderous riot your pulse has become. This is it - the opening you'd been angling for has finally presented itself. Any other sane person would be frozen with terror in the face of this unparalleled threat.

But terror has always been a distant acquaintance to you when it comes to Chuuya. It's been supplanted by a far more intoxicating feeling - the lure of getting hopelessly, perilously close to the untamed flame without letting your wings get burned in the process.

So you simply regard him with studied nonchalance as his tall form stalks from the shadows into the gauzy half-light, sharp features settling into a glowering leer.

"Fancy meeting you here...Chuuya."*

A tense silence stretches as Chuuya slants you an inscrutable look, one russet brow arching ever so slightly.

"You know who I am," he states flatly after a moment, clearly not bothering with any pretense. His gaze sharpens further, flicking over your form in an assessing once-over. "Yet you don't seem the type to go running for the hills like that sniveling worm."

You allow your lips to curve into the faintest of smirks, shrugging one shoulder in a studied show of nonchalance even as your heart hammers against your ribcage. "Well now, you'd be correct about that observation," you murmur, carelessly crossing one leg over the other to allow your skirt to ride even higher up your thighs. "I don't scare quite so...easily, let's say."

The way Chuuya's narrowed eyes instantly zero in on the expanse of bare leg you've revealed makes your gut clench with something that definitely isn't fear. More like the thrill of a predator getting a glimpse of a new, elusive kind of prey to evaluate. You keep your gaze locked boldly with his, not about to be cowed.

"That so?" Chuuya rumbles after a weighted pause, straightening from his slouch as he takes an prowling step closer. There's a distinctly dangerous edge to the banked smolder now flickering behind those scarlet irises. "Seems like an awfully stupid broad has wandered a little too far from whatever dank hole she crawled out of."

The sheer arrogance bleeding from his words, delivered in that low, grating growl, should rightfully have your hackles raising. A massive voice in the back of your mind screams at you to defuse this situation, disengage before it spirals into territory you may not be able to endure.

Instead, you find yourself leaning forward with avid interest, allowing the whisper of your neckline to gape open even further as you flash Chuuya a coy look from beneath your lashes. "What can I say? Maybe I've just acquired a...taste, for tempting a little risk every now and then."

The way his pupils flare infinitesimally at your blatant implication is almost worth the sizzling lick of tension now heating the cramped space between you. Feeling unnervingly brazen, you let your tongue swipe across your lower lip before continuing in your most sultry drawl.

"Doesn't hurt that danger often comes with certain...thrills attached, wouldn't you agree?"

There's something almost predatory about the rake of Chuuya's hooded eyes up the length of you now, his full lips quirking faintly at the corners. "Well now, that's certainly an...interesting revelation comin' from a scrap like you."

One booted foot edges incrementally closer into your space until the tips of his polished toes breach the whisper-close perimeter you're holding. Something about the nonchalant invasion of your boundaries makes the fine hairs on your arms prickle with an odd, static sort of electricity.

"So tell me, sweetheart..." Chuuya leans in even further now, his features almost blurring with proximity until that smoldering stare bores into yours with blistering intensity. You can smell the smoke and whiskey's potent musk radiating from his pores, taste the faint metallic tang of violence that seems to linger like an aura around him.

You don't - can't - look away, finding yourself utterly suspended in his molten regard.

"Just what kind of...thrills were you hoping a monster like me could provide?"

The low, guttural purr of his final words sinks directly into the pit of your stomach like a dousing of chill water. Except rather than dousing anything, they seem to ignite every tingling nerve ending across your skin into roaring life. Every well-honed instinct is silently screaming at you to take your gun out and shoot.

But your heart thunders in your ears for an entirely different reason, one you can no longer deafen yourself to even as sirens blare in the back of your mind. Because right here, right now, the monster in question has coaxed an infinitely more primal beast from its usually well-restrained cage inside you.

And now, face to face with the only man who's ever brought those feral urges to the surface, you can no longer remember how to resist its howling call.

So instead of heeding your flashing warnings, you allow every last gossamer thread of control to unravel from your grasp. you let the curtain drop completely - metaphorically and literally, as you purposefully lean back to reveal the shadowed haven of your chest undulating with quickening breaths.

Exposed and hungry, you hold Chuuya's smoldering crimson stare as the first provocative rumble parts your lips:

"I was rather hoping you'd show me..."

Chuuya holds your brazen gaze for a beat, russet eyes glittering with an unreadable intensity. You can practically see the gears turning behind that furrowed brow as he processes your bold proposition, evaluating how serious you are about tempting such dangerous territories.

At last, his lips peel back in a slow, wolfish smirk - the kind that makes your pulse spike despite yourself. "You've got a set of nerves on you, I'll give you that much," he rumbles, leaning back just enough to allow his eyes to roam overtly over your displayed figure with relish. "Most dolls wrap themselves up tighter than a hair-trigger gunslinger around me. But you..."

His gaze flicks back up to lock with yours, blazing with undisguised intrigue. "You're just beggin' to get burned, aren't you, gorgeous?"

There's an undeniable thrill licking up your spine at the blatant challenge arcing between you, the kind of illicit adrenaline rush you've been chasing perhaps a bit too recklessly lately. Mustering your courage, you hold Chuuya's smoldering stare and part your lips in a slow, deliberate sweep of your tongue.

"Well now, they do say there's a certain...excitement, in playing with fire, don't they?" You make sure to pitch your tone into a sultry purr, allowing your lashes to dip in a slow blink. "And who are we to question that particular wisdom?"

The low, gravelly chuckle that rumbles from Chuuya's broad chest causes a frisson of sensation to trickle down your body. Slowly, he pushes off from the wall, allowing his fitted white shirt to strain against his defined torso as he prowls the sparse distance separating you. Your breath hitches despite yourself when he looms into your personal space, near enough that you can detect the smoky, smoky whiskey scent of him.

"Is that what you're angling for, then?" he murmurs, head dipping until you can feel the whisper of his warm exhalation skating across your cheekbone. "A chance to dance among the flames and see if you get yourself burned?"

You resist the urge to shiver, forcing yourself to meet his heated stare steadily even as your pulse throbs with mounting anticipation. "Well now, I do love indulging in life's...rarer sensations whenever I can."

One daring hand lifts until your fingers are just grazing the open vee of his dress shirt, allowing your splayed digits to tantalize the hard planes of his chest through the crisp fabric. Boldly, your hooded gaze flicks up through your lashes, a shiver of adrenaline sparking beneath your skin as Chuuya's own eyes darken infinitesimally.

"Tell me..." you breathe out, letting your words skate like a caress against his stubbled jaw. "Just how much thrill...does a rare indulgence like you have to offer?"

For a long, heated moment, Chuuya simply holds your daring stare, the muscles in his forearms tensing as his fingers flex almost unconsciously. You can sense the thunderous caution warring with that undeniable spark of interest in his hooded gaze as he sizes you up fully, evaluating whether you're truly the kind of hazard worth risking his...attention.

At last, a slow, wicked smirk curls over his lips, and a shudder of electric premonition dances down your spine.

"Well now...what do you say we go somewhere a little more...private, and find out?"

Your pulse thrums with a heady mix of trepidation and illicit excitement as Chuuya holds your daring stare, clearly weighing his options. Despite every rational instinct screaming at you to defuse this situation, you find yourself utterly transfixed - a moth helplessly drawn to the hypnotic flames.

At last, Chuuya leans back with a slow smirk, giving you an assessing look-over that makes your skin prickle. "Tell you what, gorgeous - how about we take this little game somewhere a bit cozier?" His gaze briefly flicks toward the hallway beyond your alcove's tattered curtain. "Got a private office upstairs that'll give us all the...privacy, we might require."

The unmistakable emphasis he puts on that last part sends a shiver of smoky anticipation licking down your spine. You know you're treading into incredibly dangerous territory here - this is the Port Mafia's most volatile element you're brazenly tempting, after all. One misstep, one misread signal, and there's no telling how quickly this situation could careen into utter chaos.

And yet...you can't resist the thrill of poking at that particular rattlesnake, drunk on the dizzying high of skirting peril. Holding Chuuya's piercing stare steadily, you allow one side of your mouth to curve into a slow, provocative smile.

"Lead the way, then...I'm partial to a little...risk, with my indulgences."

Chuuya's eyes flare infinitesimally at your words, that smoldering gaze roving over you with rekindled interest. For a beat, the two of you are suspended in a sort of heated detente, the air between you thrumming with roiling tension and unspoken challenges. Despite yourself, you feel a whisper of excitement curl low in your belly as those molten azure irises slowly blaze a path down your form.

Then, abruptly, Chuuya spins on his heel and strides toward the exit without another word. You blink, momentarily wrong-footed by his abrupt dismissal, until he tosses a final look over his shoulder - the expression on his face makes your breath hitch.

"Well? You comin' to collect your indulgences or not, gorgeous?"

There's an unmistakable glint in Chuuya's stare then - a sort of heated promise that has your adrenaline spiking despite yourself. Like he's testing you, issuing a blatant dare to see if you'll recklessly rise to meet the perilous temptation head-on.

A greater part of you knows you should immediately abort this reckless gambit, disengage before you cross a line there's no coming back from. But that primal part that's already been stirred into electric wakefulness refuses to back down from such a flagrant challenge.

So with one last inward steadying breath, you smooth your features into an insouciant smirk and saunter after Chuuya's retreating form. Every step behind him down the dimly lit hallways feels like you're striding deeper into a dragon's den, utterly insignificant compared to the scorching, chaotic power you're brazenly trailing.

But rather than cowing you, the prospect of getting inexorably closer to such a dangerous presence sets your blood simmering with heady, illicit adrenaline. You can't tear your eyes away from the confident set of Chuuya's shoulders, the controlled, subtly powerful roll of his hips with each long stride. It's like watching a panther stalk through the underbrush - power and grace roiling in sync, utterly spellbinding.

By the time the two of you reach the non-descript doorway tucked away on one of the upper floors, your pulse is thundering with a strange sort of breathless anticipation. As Chuuya swings the door open and gestures you forward with one beckoning hand, something sparks hot and illicit in your veins.

You don't hesitate before crossing the threshold into the dimly lit office space, chin raised in smoldering challenge. The distinct sound of the door clicking shut behind you seems to ring with finality, sealing you in this intimate battleground with your most dangerous opponent yet.

One deep, steadying breath later, and you slowly turn to face the sole occupant now in the room with you. Chuuya prowls closer, looking utterly at ease amidst the overlapping shadows cast by the single flickering lamp. He cocks one russet brow slightly, the ghost of his ever-present smirk still playing about the corners of his lips.

"Well then...care to indulge me on just what kind of rare...thrills, you think you can handle?" The low, gravelly purr of his drawl seems to reverberate against the very walls with its heady promise.

In this moment, all bravado flees as you find yourself pinned by the weight of Chuuya's piercing stare. There's something incandescently feral roiling just beneath that cool surface, power and intensity thrumming from every taut line of his lithe form. You feel suddenly, viscerally aware of the yawning chasm of danger you've actually stumbled into by provoking such an untamed juggernaut.

Yet despite the rapidly shrinking space between you, despite the alarms clanging in the back of your mind...you can't seem to make yourself turn and flee while you're still able. No, some deeper, more primal instinct is beading bright pinpricks of perspiration across your nape, thrumming with a low, electric sort of excitement as Chuuya stalks ever nearer.

So rather than retreat, you feel the first reckless threads of control beginning to fray as your body's most basic urges override any sense of self-preservation. Your lips part in a tiny shuddering inhale as those feral crimson eyes finally bore into yours at point-blank range, the heat of Chuuya's compact frame now radiating palpably against yours.

In that delirious instant, everything narrows until there's only the two of you, coiled taut as a wire split-second before detonation. You can't tear your gaze from Chuuya's even if you wanted to - find yourself suspended, mesmerised as he subtly scents the air around you both with a slow inhale of his own.

Then, at last, he leans in until his lips are a scant breath from yours. You freeze, dizzy at the sudden proximity, skin tingling...and wait with inexplicable tension for the final ax to fall.

The words that finally part his lips are little more than a smoky rasp, thrumming with a vibration that sinks sparks into your very marrow:

"Then let's find out, shall we?"

You feel like every nerve ending in your body has been set alight as Chuuya's words seem to reverberate against your very bones. The low, smoky rasp of his voice carries a thrumming vibration that sinks sparking tendrils of electricity into your very marrow.

In that suspended instant, everything narrows into hyper-focused clarity - the smoldering weight of his piercing crimson stare boring into yours, the slight hitch of his chest with each measured inhale, the faint whiskey-and-smoke scent of him swirling in the charged space between your bodies. You're acutely, dizzyingly aware of Chuuya's compact frame radiating an intense, banked heat so palpably against you that your own breathing grows shallow.

Despite the alarms still blaring at the back of your mind, something infinitely more primal has awoken and taken the reins - that reckless, thrill-seeking part of you that cannot seem to resist chasing the untamed wildfire no matter how badly it threatens to burn. You can't tear your widened eyes away from Chuuya's own hooded gaze, utterly transfixed by the promise of power and intensity thrumming in every taut line of his form.

And when he finally moves, prowling that last infinitesimal distance to bring your bodies into searing alignment, you can't even find it in you to flinch.

There's the faintest tangling of your mingled breaths as Chuuya noses infinitesimally closer, and your chest stutters on a shuddering inhale in response. Yet you remain frozen in place, utterly suspended in the gravitational pull of his aura as his lips ghost across the heated whisper of skin just beneath your jaw.

"So tell me then..." The gravelly rumble of his low purr ghosts across your pulse point, igniting a shivering trail of sensation down your neck and across your collarbones. "Just how much hazard were you angling to chase tonight, gorgeous?"

The blatant challenge dripping from Chuuya's words finally spurs you back into motion after your momentary paralysis. Steeling your nerves against the molten intent searing from his heavy-lidded stare, you force your lips to curve into a slow, smoldering smirk of your own.

"Why don't you go ahead and show me...unless you're not confident you can rise to the occasion?" you breathe out, allowing your voice to dip into a low, throaty purr of provocation.

The infinite pause that stretches between you next is charged like a livewire, tension and unspoken baits crackling in the superheated air. For an endless moment, the two of you remain suspended in a crystalized tableaux - Chuuya pinning you in place with smoldering promise, you staring him down with charged challenge.

Then, like the abrupt snap of a rubber band, the fragile tension finally breaks.

A harsh exhale gusts from Chuuya's parted lips as a muscle ticks in his tensed jaw, the banked intensity in his stare flaring into a bonfire of blatant hunger. You can't quite muffle the tremor that wracks through you in response, heat licking beneath your skin like the first sparks of a brushfire about to ignite.

"Well then..." he rumbles in that distinctive rasp that seems to lick across your nerve endings in a searing caress. "I do so hate to disappoint a lady with...particular tastes, now don't I?"

The final taunting lilt of his words hangs for a torturous beat in the electrified space between your bodies. Then, before you can so much as draw another shuddering inhale, his hands are on you - rough, calloused fingers skating up the bare expanse of your waist to sear possessive brands into your overheated skin.

The molten contact finally shatters the spell of restraint you've been struggling to maintain against the steadily encroaching tide of Chuuya's presence. A sharp, wordless exhalation punches from your lungs as you instinctively arch into his scorching palms like a tree being bent to gale-force winds. Every nerve is alight, thrumming feverishly with heady, illicit anticipation that seems to vibrate in your very bones.

Chuuya's low, guttural rumble of approval vibrates against your heated pulse point in a distinctly possessive sort of resonance. "That's what I thought..."

Those large, blisteringly warm hands flex against your sides, fingers tightening in an inescapable grip that has you trembling minutely. There's a distinct sense of him looming, encompassing your entire field of awareness. The terribly intimate cocoon of his powerful aura and crisp, smoky scent has raptured senses occluding everything else in a dizzying spiral of sensation.

You're only dimly cognizant of the slide of hot breath skating up the column of your vulnerable throat before Chuuya's graveled rasp ghosts across your lips with finality:

"Now let's see how much of my...particular skills, you can take."

A tremulous shiver wracks through you at the blatant intent scorching from Chuuya's words. For all your attempts at bravado, at provoking this untamed hurricane, there's no denying the molten thrill now simmering low in your belly.

You're well and truly in the eye of the storm's chaos now. There's no retreating, no shred of distance to put between you and this barely-leashed juggernaut towering over you. The heat radiating from Chuuya's compact frame, the banked intensity blazing behind those smoldering russet irises, the thrumming aura of controlled violence roiling just beneath his deceptively calm surface...it all combines into a heady, electrifying force that's utterly overwhelming your senses.

You can't tear your widened gaze away from the searing intensity of his stare, can't halt the trembling that wracks through your very bones as Chuuya regards you with that slow, lupine smirk curling the corners of his lips. It's as if he can sense the first tendrils of apprehension starting to unfurl in your gut, can scent the first hints of your rapidly dwindling bravado like a predator sensing weakness in its prey.

That molten gaze narrows infinitesimally, holding you utterly transfixed as those wicked lips part to exhale a low rumble that seems to reverberate against the very walls around you:

"Well, well...aren't you just a messy tangle of nerves now, gorgeous? Should've known better than to go poking a sleepin' beast."

Your throat works in a convulsive swallow, suddenly achingly aware of the rapid flutter of your pulse thrumming visibly beneath the hollow of your exposed throat. Whether from exhilaration or mounting trepidation you can no longer tell - everything's starting to spiral and blur together into an indistinguishable haze in the wake of that banked wildfire radiating from Chuuya in rolling waves.

You manage the barest shake of your head, gaze skittering away in a rare moment of cowed discomposure as the instinct to physically retreat briefly rears its head. But Chuuya's callused grasp on your waist tightens infinitesimally, effectively pinning you in place like a cobra subduing its prey.

"Now where d'you think you're going, babydoll?" The low, honeyed rasp of his drawl slithers down your neck like velvet laced with venom. "Don't go getting cold feet after working so hard to earn yourself a dance with the big bad wolf..."

Swallowing hard against his iron grip, you force yourself to match his smoldering stare with a defiant tilt of your chin. "I’m not," you rasp, hating how breathless you sound pinned beneath this man's thrall. "Unless you're the one getting cold feet...?"

Chuuya's eyes suddenly turn flinty, his smirk twisting into something sharper and colder. "Funny you should mention that," he says, his tone deceptively light despite the new tension thrumming through his frame. "Tell me...what's a pretty little Agency thing like you doing here trying so hard to play the vamp? Shouldn't you be out there fightin' the good fight, making the city a safer place and all that righteous bullshit?"

You freeze, eyes widening as the blood drains from your face. He knows. Somehow, Chuuya has seen through your undercover operation. Your hand twitches instinctively towards the concealed pistol against your thigh.

Chuuya's grip on your waist tightens infinitesimally as he leans in closer, his eyes blazing with a combination of hunger and...sadness? "Yeah, that's right. I know who you are and why you're really here. To take me out, just another job for the Agency's dog."

His words slice through you like a knife as your heart pounds in your ears. This was never supposed to happen. He was never meant to discover your true motives.

Chuuya's gaze bores into you, stripping away every layer until you feel utterly exposed before him. "Did you really think I wouldn't recognize you? Even playing the seductress...I'd know you anywhere."

There's a rawness to his voice now, a vulnerability that takes you aback. His fingers loosen slightly against your throat, almost a caress. "I've watched you for years, you know. From a distance, always keeping my distance because I knew we could never be anything more than enemies."

Your breath catches in your throat as realization dawns. The longing you'd glimpsed in his eyes...it wasn't just your imagination. "Chuuya..." you whisper, torn between the instinct to attack and something far more dangerous blooming in your chest.

He laughs bitterly, the sound grating. "I'm just a fool, aren't I? Falling for the one person I can never have." He reaches up to slowly pull the wig you wore for your disguise, revealing your natural tresses. His thumb strokes your wildly fluttering pulse almost tenderly. "So go ahead, do what you came here to do. At least I got to be this close to you one last time."

The pistol feels like a lead weight against your thigh as you gaze up at this deadly man, your sworn enemy, and see the depths of his longing and resignation laid bare.

Your breath catches in your throat as you gaze up at Chuuya, the man you've sworn to take down as an enemy of the Agency, and see the naked longing and resignation in his eyes. In that moment, you realize with dawning clarity that you can no more kill him than cut out your own heart.

The pistol concealed against your thigh suddenly feels like an utterly foreign, leaden weight. How could you ever bring yourself to pull that trigger against this deadly yet achingly vulnerable man before you? The one who has haunted your footsteps and thoughts for years, it seems, with the same tortured yearning you've struggled to ignore?

Chuuya's thumb strokes your thundering pulse once more, his touch tentative yet scorchingly intimate. "Well?" he prompts roughly, jaw tensing. "Aren't you going to finish what you came here for, gorgeous?"

You open your mouth, but find no words will come. What could you possibly say in this suspended moment where everything you thought you knew has been shattered? Your entire world has abruptly tilted on its axis, sending your convictions and allegiances spinning into freefall.

Seeming to take your silence as answer enough, Chuuya's expression shutters closed once more. He lets out a harsh exhalation, fingers tightening almost bruisingly against your hip. "Fine then. Have it your way."

With that gruff declaration, he suddenly seizes you by the shoulders and spins you both around, slamming your back against the wall with enough force to expel your breath in a pained rush. You instinctively try to pull free, to summon your training and detach from this volatile situation before it spirals further.

But Chuuya is relentless, pinning your wrists above your head in one unyielding grip while crowding you with the searing heat of his compact frame. The hard planes of his body cage you in utterly, his thigh jamming between your legs in a blatant parody of intimacy before he snaps your holster off along with your gun.

"If you're not going to finish the job, then at least grant me this one indulgence before you walk away," he snarls against the hammering pulse at your throat. His free hand slides possessively up your ribs until it's fisted in the hair at your nape, wrenching your head back to fully expose your vulnerability to his piercing stare. "One taste of you before I burn it all to the ground."

The world seems to splinter and fracture around you as Chuuya's heated words penetrate the haze of shock and confusion swirling through your mind. This is madness, utter insanity descending between your tangled forms. He's the enemy - untamed, volatile, a force of destruction that could annihilate you without a second thought.

Yet despite every rational warning blaring at full volume, you can't seem to make yourself struggle against the scorching brand of his body anymore. Can't deny the reckless part of you that has been awakened and roused into insatiable hunger by Chuuya's smoldering stare and this searing, unexpected revelation.

So instead of heeding your ingrained instincts, you simply hold his burning gaze steadily and allow the first lethal admission to tumble recklessly from your lips:

"Then take what you need from me..."

Chuuya freezes at your breathless entreaty, the blazing intensity in his gaze seeming to flicker and gutter for just an instant. As if some part of him hadn't truly expected you to capitulate to this reckless descent into madness between you both.

For a suspended heartbeat, the office seems to hold its collective breath, awaiting the final plunge over the edge of this precipice you now teeter upon. You can feel Chuuya's ragged exhalations ghosting across your parted lips, can all but taste the roiling torment and need crashing together in the infinitesimal space separating your bodies.

Then, like a rubber band reaching terminal tension before snapping, every last strand of restraint finally frays into oblivion.

A harsh growl rumbles from the depths of Chuuya's chest as he surges forward, claiming your lips in a searing, bruising clash. The tight grip in your hair wrenches your head back at a nearly painful angle as he plunders the intimate depths of your mouth with almost feral intensity. You can only cling to the hard planes of his shoulders and surrender to the riptide of sensations crashing over you.

There's no gentleness, no teasing exploration in Chuuya's onslaught - only the desperate, blazing need to consume, to leave his brand seared into every inch of your being. Each nip of his teeth against your lips, each rasp of his calloused palms mapping the curves of your body, it all conveys the same frenzied message:

Take what you can from me before this all gets torn asunder.

You're only dimly aware of the harsh grind of the wall at your back, of Chuuya pinning you there with the inexorable force of his lean musculature as you both drink desperately from this catastrophic spiral. All that exists is the scalding trail of his lips, the shuddering gasps being torn from your lungs, and the roaring heartbeat thrumming between your tangled bodies.

At some point, Chuuya wrenches his mouth free to blaze a path of smoldering, opened-mouth kisses down the vulnerable column of your throat. The rasp of his stubble scraping your over-sensitized skin drags a trembling moan from you that seems to reverberate in the very air. He lets out his own guttural groan against the wild flutter of your pulse in response, clutching you impossibly closer and grinding his hips against yours in a blatant rhythm.

"Been drivin' me crazy for years, you know that?" he rasps into the sweat-dampened hollow of your neck, each word seeming to sear itself into your very bones. "Watchin' you from the sidelines, playing the good guy while I kept my distance like a good little monster..."

His teeth graze the juncture of your shoulder hard enough to sting, but the burn only streaks molten licks of sensation straight to your pussy. "Never thought I'd get the chance to finally have you...even if it's just this once."

The desolate undercurrent woven through Chuuya's heated words penetrates the lust-hazed spiral of your mind, sending a jagged fissure straight through the reckless abandon coursing through you. This frantic, devastatingly intimate blaze between you isn't just about giving in to primal desires and sating forbidden cravings.

For Chuuya, it's a last-ditch grasping at ephemeral smoke before the world as he's known it inevitably turns to ash and ruin. A final indulgence to sate his starving beast before resigning himself to the solitary, untamable path he was seemingly born to walk.

Something hot and agonizing clenches in your chest at the bitter realization, an unfamiliar and terribly disarming ache blooming beneath your ribcage. You want - need - to soothe that weary resignation bleeding from Chuuya in scorching waves, even if it's only for one delirious, catastrophic moment outside the roles and enmity, before the entire world crashes down around you.

So you force your hands to release their white-knuckled grip on the rigid plates of his shoulders, sliding them up to frame his harsh, stubbled jawline instead. Chuuya makes a muffled sound of surprise against your pulse point, but doesn't pull away as you gently guide him to meet your softening gaze.

For a long, suspended heartbeat, you simply drink in the sight of him. Take in the smoky azure blazing with naked hunger and that terribly tender longing. The sharp angles of his brow and razor-edged cheekbones, the sinfully decadent curve of his kiss-swollen lips. The disheveled crimson spill of his hair across his forehead, the sheen of perspiration on his pale skin.

Then, with an aching, shuddering exhalation, you lean in and claim his mouth in the first gentle, devastating kiss of the night.

It's a slow, lingering thing - a delicate, searching brush of lips, a delicate exploration of the warm, wet heat of his mouth. A sensual dance that quickly builds into a scorching, searing thing. This time, you're the one to nip at his lush lower lip, to trace the sensitive seam with the tip of your tongue and draw a shivering moan from the depths of his throat. The hand fisted in your hair slackens, his grip becoming a caress instead. His other hand skates reverently over the curve of your waist, the slope of your hip, as if he's trying to commit every inch of your body to memory.

As you sink deeper into the addictive heat of Chuuya's mouth, as he swallows the needy sound that spills from you and tangles his tongue with yours in a slow, sensuous slide, the entire universe seems to contract down to the point where your bodies are pressed together.

Where the air is thick and heavy, the scent of leather and his cologne a potent mix that sends your head spinning and leaves you gasping.

When you finally part for air, when your trembling fingertips find the buttons of his vest and start working them free, his gaze sears into you like a brand. "Let me have you," he rasps raggedly, the sheer desperation in his voice making you shudder. "Please, let me..."

"Yes," you manage to whisper, the single word nearly lost in the maelstrom of sensation and need spiraling between you.

He curses roughly against the curve of your shoulder, his fingers flexing against the small of your back. "I don't want to hurt you. I never... not you."

"You won't." You're surprised at the steadiness of your own voice as you lean into the heated cradle of his body. "I trust you, Chuuya."

Chuuya goes utterly still against you, his word nearly lost in the maelstrom of sensation and need spiraling between you. There's a raw vulnerability in his gaze when he lifts his head to search your face, as if he's afraid he imagined the words falling from your lips. As if he can't quite believe this is happening.

"I trust you," you whisper again, pressing a kiss to his jaw, his throat, his temple. You don't care if the gesture is too soft, too intimate. Not when the ache in your chest only seems to deepen with each ragged inhalation you take.

"Please, Chuuya...I want this. I want you."

It's the truth, and you realize in that moment that you'd do anything, give him anything, if it meant chasing that bittersweet resignation from his expression. If it meant holding him close and keeping him safe, even for a single instant.

Chuuya shudders against you at your fervent confession, a low growl rising from his chest.

His fingers tangle in your hair, his eyes blazing with something that sends a jolt of heat straight to your core. "Then I'm yours."

He claims your lips once more, the kiss searing and all-consuming, even as he reaches down to hook his hands beneath your thighs and hoist you effortlessly into his arms. With the ease of a man who spends every waking hour honing his physical prowess, he carries you across the room and settles you atop the wide expanse of his desk.

You gasp at the feeling of the polished wood beneath your bare skin, at the cool caress of the air as he steps back to swiftly shrug off his vest and unbutton his dress shirt. Even in the dim lighting, you can't help but drink in the sight of his pale skin, the sculpted ridges of his torso and abs, the tantalizing hint of the V-lines disappearing beneath the waistband of his slacks.

When you finally tear your gaze away from his exposed body to meet his eyes, Chuuya's lips curve into a smirk. "Enjoying the view, babydoll?"

Heat creeps up your neck, but you don't look away as you reach up to begin working the zipper on the back of your dress. "Maybe. It'd be easier to enjoy it more if you took the rest off too, though."

Chuuya's smirk widens into a grin, the wicked curl of his lips sending a new spike of heat lancing through you. "Whatever the lady wants," he purrs, popping the button on his slacks and letting the fabric slide down his hips.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him clad only in a pair of black boxer briefs, the outline of his erection evident through the stretchy fabric. His heated stare is pinned on you like a physical weight, tracing the curves of your bared flesh as you tug the dress down and over your head.

A low, ragged sound spills from Chuuya's chest as he drinks in the sight of you perched before him in nothing but your lace bra and panties. You don't have a chance to feel the slightest bit of self-consciousness, however, because he's crowding against you almost instantly, his hands spanning the dip of your waist and his lips trailing a line of burning kisses along the curve of your neck, moving downward.

You feel Chuuya's soft lips press gently against your stomach, his kisses fluttering over the scars that mark your skin. The scars he put there himself, when he shot you what feels like a lifetime ago. His touch is tender now as his mouth grazes the raised lines, his breath warm on your bare flesh.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, voice thick with emotion. "I never wanted to hurt you." He looks up at you with repentant eyes, fingers tracing the edges of the scars with the lightest touch, as if afraid to cause you more pain. You know he regrets what he did, that guilt weighs heavily on him. Cupping his face, you guide his mouth back to yours, wanting to absolve him, needing him to know that you forgive him.

The kiss is slow and deep, and vou can feel every ounce of his regret, his pain. His hands move to your bra, unclasping it and pulling the straps down, baring your breasts.

You watch as his gaze darkens, the hunger returning, and you know his thoughts have drifted back to the present. To the need burning in both of you.

His lips travel downward, capturing one hardened nipple in his mouth and sucking hard. Your fingers tangle in his hair, a moan falling from your lips. The scrape of his stubble against the sensitive skin only intensifies the sensation.

Chuuya's hand kneads and teases the other breast, his thumb flicking and teasing the taut peak. The wet heat of his mouth on your sensitive flesh, the friction of his stubble on your skin, it all sends waves of pleasure rolling through you, coiling in the pit of your stomach.

When his mouth moves to the other breast, his hand continues the sensual torment.

"Chuuya," you whimper, needing more, but knowing there's no rushing him. He's going to take his time, drive you to the brink. "Mmm," he hums, his lips moving over the curve of your breast and down the planes of your stomach. "Patience, babydoll. I've been fantasizing about what l'd do to you if I ever got you in my bed. And since that's not happening, this will have to do."

His mouth is warm on your inner thigh, his tongue and teeth nibbling the tender flesh there.

"So soft, so sweet," he murmurs, and then his mouth is on your core, the damp heat of his tongue dragging along your slit. "Oh god," you groan, hips lifting involuntarily off the desk. Chuuya's hands grasp your thighs, his strength keeping you from wriggling away from his wicked, talented mouth.

He chuckles darkly, and the vibration sends another pulse of pleasure through you. "No escaping, gorgeous. Not until l'm finished."

Finished? How will you survive that?

Your breath comes out in short pants as he continues his sensual assault, the strokes of his tongue and his fingers relentless. Just when you think you can't take anymore, the pressure and pleasure building to the point of overwhelming, his mouth finds the swollen bud of your clit.

You cry out, his name a breathless, reverent prayer falling from your lips.

"That's it," he croons, his words vibrating through you, making you arch into him. "Give it to me."

His tongue laves over you, his fingers stroking and teasing, until the wave crests, pleasure flooding through you, sending you careening over the edge. You could hear the loud, pornographic moan Chuuya let out as your juices spray against his mouth, the vibrations from his growls sending shivers down your spine.

"God, yes, baby. That's it," he praises, licking his lips and staring at you like a starved man presented with a feast. His lips curl into a wicked grin, and you feel your blood heat at the sight.

"But I'm not finished with you yet. I want to feel you come on my cock, feel that tight, hot pussy squeeze me."

The filthy words coming from Chuuya's beautiful mouth should disgust you, but they don't. They turn you on, make your body heat and clench, ready for more. Your breath hitches in anticipation, but Chuuya's not done teasing.

"Tell me," he purrs, "have you thought about me? Have you touched yourself, imagining my hands on you, my mouth on you?"

You don't answer, but your blush gives you away, and he lets out a low, husky chuckle.

"Oh, yes, I can see it in your eyes. I've thought about you, too. Touched myself, imagining your sweet, soft lips wrapped around my cock. I'd love to feel those pouty lips stretched around me. Would you like that, gorgeous? To swallow me whole, drink down every last drop?"

Your mouth waters, and the image fills your mind, making your sex clench and your mouth go dry. He chuckles again, a dark, seductive sound.

"Well, since we have no time for that now, l'll settle for being buried inside your sweet pussy. How's that?" Your eyes go wide as you look at him. He's massive, and the idea of him filling you, stretching you, makes you tremble with need.

"'m gonna take that as a yes," he drawls, the rough, gravelly tone of his voice making you shudder. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs, and pushes them down his lean hips, freeing his thick, heavy cock. You can't help but stare. He's long and thick, his cock pulsing and twitching, pre-cum beading on the tip. He grips his shaft, stroking lazily, his eyes locked on yours. "Like what you see, babydoll?"

You lick your lips, and he groans, a tortured sound. "God, I want to feel that sinful mouth wrapped around my cock, but right now, I want to feel that sweet cunt."

He prowls towards you, and your legs spread instinctively, making room for him. You can feel your sex pulsing, the need for him to fill you, claim you, almost overwhelming.

He steps between your spread thighs, and leans in, claiming your mouth in a bruising kiss, the taste of yourself on his lips driving you wild.

He breaks the kiss, and his mouth trails down your neck, over your shoulder, the rough scrape of his stubble and his soft, full lips making you writhe. His hand slides between your legs, and you feel his finger tease your entrance, testing how ready you are.

"Shit," he curses. "You're soaked. Dripping for me."

You're about to protest his teasing, but the words die on your lips as you feel his blunt head probing at your opening. Your eyes go wide, and he grins, a wolfish, predatory look.

"Ready for me, gorgeous?"

He doesn't wait for a response, thrusting his hips, sheathing himself in your slick heat in one long, smooth motion. He's so big, and the stretch burns, but the sensation of him filling you is delicious, the pleasure just on the edge of pain.

"Fuck," he groans, and he leans forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He stays there, buried deep, breathing harshly, for a moment, and then he pulls back, and thrusts into you again, setting a steady pace.

His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh, and you know he'll leave marks, but you don't care. You want them.

"Look at me," he growls, and you comply, gazing up at him.

The fierce intensity of his gaze as he thrusts into you sends a shiver of pleasure up your spine.

"Touch yourself," he commands. "I want to feel you coming around my cock."

You slide a hand between your bodies, finding the slick nub of your clit, and begin stroking in time with his thrusts.

The sensation is overwhelming, and you can feel yourself spiraling towards climax.

"Chuuya," you moan, and he groans, the sound rumbling through you.

"Yeah, that's it, baby. Let go. Come for me." His words push you over the edge, and you scream his name, pleasure washing over vou in a crashing wave.

He continues to thrust, drawing out your orgasm, and then he stiffens, his hips slamming against yours, burying himself to the hilt, and you can feel his cock throb and pulse, his hot release filling you.

"God, I love you."

His words shock you, and your eyes go wide.

He blinks, and you can see the regret flash in his gaze, and he starts to pull back, to withdraw. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him close, refusing to let him go.

He's frozen, his expression unreadable, and then, he slumps, pressing his forehead to yours.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly.

"Don't be," you murmur.

"You've held a place in my heart for longer than I probably realized.I wish I could say exactly when my feelings for you started, but the truth is they've been slowly blooming for ages without me fully recognizing it until now."

You don't say anything, because you can't.

There's a lump in your throat, and you can't speak past it. Instead, you hold him close, and you let him know, without words, that you care for him, too.

You don't know how long you stay like that, holding each other, but eventually, he pulls back, and you let him go. He pulls out of you, and the sensation of his seed dripping down your thighs is oddly erotic.

You watch as he pulls his boxer briefs up, and the sight of his lean, muscled form makes your pussy clench.

"Come here," he says, reaching for you, and you let him lift you into his arms. He carries you to the sofa and sits you down, the cushions soft beneath you. He takes a seat beside you, and pulls you against his chest, and you lay your head on his shoulder, his lips lingering against the crown of your head.

Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you breathe him in - smoke and spice and something uniquely Chuuya. Let it ground you in this moment, in the undeniable connection sparking between your bodies like a livewire.

There’s so much you want to say to him, but it's everything you can never say out loud. But here in the hushed stillness of Chuuya's secret haven, wrapped up in his solid warmth...you can almost pretend that it's enough. That this is enough.

Just for now. Just for tonight.

Chuuya's arms come up to enfold you, drawing you impossibly closer. One big hand splays across the small of your back while the other cradles the nape of your neck, gentle and protective, pulling you onto his lap. Like you are something unspeakably precious he wants to keep safe.

"Stay with me," he murmurs into your hair, low and entreating. "Just...stay."

You squeeze your eyes shut against the hot sting of tears, pain and guilt and wistful longing swelling up to choke you. But you ruthlessly tamp it down, lodging the messy tangle of emotions behind your ribs to examine later. When you're alone and it's safe to fall apart.

For now, you simply burrow deeper into Chuuya's embrace and nod once, decisive.

"Okay," you breath. A benediction and a promise. "Okay."

And as the two of you lay there, together in the cocoon of shadows and fairylights to a melody only you can hear...you let yourself surrender to the illusion. Let yourself imagine, just for a stolen heartbeat...

That this is real. That he is yours and you are his and nothing else matters.

That maybe, despite all the odds stacked against you...love can still bloom in even the most barren soil.

The spell endures long into the night, your quiet murmurs and shared laughter filling the air as you explore every intimate nook and cranny of Chuuya's office. Curled together on the battered leather sofa with fingers interlaced and pulses syncing, you talk until your throats are raw and your eyes gritty.

He regales you with stories of his misspent youth - of scuffles with local gangs and leaps across rooftops...all while you listen with rapt attention, drinking in every new glimpse behind the unflappable persona. In turn, you share carefully edited tales of your own childhood - the better, brighter parts that don't give too much away.

With every grin and eyeroll and gentle ribbing, the last of your walls come down brick by brick. Until all that remains is the undeniable truth of this soul-deep resonance binding you together across enemy lines. This inexplicable sense of coming home in the last place you ever expected to find it.

But of course...all illusions must eventually shatter. And this one meets a brutal end with the first gray fingers of dawn creeping across the horizon.

A shaft of watery light spears through the high windows, falling across your huddled forms in mocking admonition. Illuminating just how entangled you've become, limbs hopelessly enmeshed and faces mere inches apart on the shared pillow.

Chuuya is the first to stir, a furrow appearing between ginger brows as he blinks muzzily. Those piercing blue eyes slowly sharpen and widen as he registers your presence - and proximity. But rather than pull away, he simply drinks in the sight of you like a man stumbling across an oasis in the desert.

"Mornin'," he rasps, voice low and sleep-rough. A tiny smile tugs at one corner of his mouth, private and unbearably soft. "This is...not how I expected to wake up today."

A corresponding bloom of warmth unfurls behind your sternum, light and giddy. "That makes two of us," you whisper back conspiratorially. Worrying your lower lip between your teeth, you reach out to trace the curve of his cheekbone with a tentative fingertip, marveling at the freedom to do so. "But I'm glad we did. Wake up together, that is."

Chuuya's eyes flutter shut at the innocent caress, a shaky exhale gusting past his lips. Catching your hand in his much larger one, he presses your palm flat over his thundering heart, holding it there like he never wants to let go.

"Me too," he confesses quietly, gaze dark and depthless as it roves over your face. There's something almost pained in his expression, a wistful sort of yearning that echoes through your own hollow bones. "I wish..."

But he cuts himself off with a brisk headshake, jaw firming. That's when your gaze catches on something glinting on the floor amidst your discarded clothing - the sleek, deadly outline of your gun. Reality slams back into focus as you remember your true mission, sent to assassinate this man, this infamous mafioso you've somehow ended up sleeping with.

Chuuya follows your line of sight, shoulders tensing almost imperceptibly as he makes the connection. You see realization filter across his expression - he knows you were sent to kill him. For a drawn-out moment, an electric tension crackles between you, brimming with unvoiced truths.

Rather than react with anger or fear, Chuuya simply holds your gaze steadily. There's an unfamiliar softness graven into the lines around his mouth and eyes as he gives a minute, solemn nod.

"I don’t care, gorgeous. I..." He breaks off, clearing his throat roughly. "Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?"

Your chest constricts painfully at the resignation in his tone, the blatant acceptance that he's sealed his own fate by allowing himself to become entangled with you. You open your mouth, an useless apology on your lips, but Chuuya cuts you off with a gentle shake of his head.

"Don't. Please, just...don't ruin this for me." His smile is wry but doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Let me pretend a little longer that you wanted me as much as I wanted you. That this didn't start as a lie."

The rawness in his voice is like a physical blow, leaving you floundering for breath. You can't tell him that he's right, that you did want him - want him still with a ferocity that terrifies you. Instead, you simply sit up and wordlessly hold your hand out in entreaty, throat too clogged with emotion to speak.

Chuuya's brows knit minutely, but then understanding blooms across his features. With the same care one would use to handle something infinitely precious yet fragile, he takes your proffered hand and guides you to straddle his lap. His large, calloused palms immediately find purchase on your waist, thumbs stroking over your hipbones with infinite tenderness.

For a long stretch, you simply hold one another's weighted gazes, peeling away every remaining barrier with each shuddering inhale. Chuuya's eyes are a kaleidoscope of emotion - yearning, resignation, and something softer that steals the breath from your lungs.

Then, almost as one, you're both leaning in until your foreheads rest flush together. His breath puffs warm and intimate against your parted lips as you simply breathe each other in, savoring this fleeting infinitesimal of connection before the outside world comes crashing back in.

When you finally do move, it's in perfect synchronicity - mouths slanting together in a kiss loaded with every unspent syllable, every aborted caress and aborted heartbeat. It's a messy, ardent thing, all tangled limbs and broken keening noises muffled between your joined mouths.

There's an undercurrent of finality and futility to it all, like two planets locked in their final orbits before terminal destruction. You pour every ounce of feeling you can't name into that scorching mess of tongue and teeth and desperation, trying to convey it all before the chance is torn from your grasp forever.

You aren't sure how long you stay like that, consuming each other in deep, convulsive swallows. By the time you finally break apart, you're both panting harshly, cheeks ruddy and lips swollen. Chuuya's hair is thoroughly mussed, eyes dark and hooded in a way that sends fresh ribbons of heat pooling low in your belly.

His pupils are blown wide, but his gaze is clear and searingly focused as he drags his thumb reverently along the plane of your cheekbone.

"Do it," he rasps, the words barely audible over the thundering of your pulse. "If you have to end this, then make it mean something. Put us both out of our misery, once and for all."

You suck in a sharp breath at the stark simplicity of his declaration. Can feel the truth of those words in your very marrow, stark and inescapable as a terminal diagnosis. There's no future for you beyond this moment, the two of you spinning endlessly around one another in a void while the inexorable machinations of the outside world slowly rend you asunder.

So you do the only thing you can - the only merciful thing left. Reaching behind you in one sinuous movement, your fingers close around the cold, unyielding steel of your gun where it lies discarded on the threadbare sheets.

Chuuya makes no move to stop you or defend himself, entire body lax and at peace as you bring the muzzle up to press firmly against his sternum. He merely watches you through those piercing blue eyes, lips quirking in a tiny, rueful smile.

"That's my girl," he murmurs, voice a ruined rasp of bittersweet devotion. He mutters to no one, voice cracking on the single syllable. "See you around...detective."

And with his end blessing still ringing in your ears, you pull the trigger.

The gunshot is deafening in the small room, the kickback bucking against your shoulder with vicious force. You watch with a sort of detached horror as Chuuya's head rocks back, eyes blowing wide for one final endless moment before his head crumples back onto the couch.

A thin line of crimson immediately begins trickling from the corner of his slack mouth, hot arterial blood already seeping out to stain the leather beneath him in an ever-widening blossom of scarlet. But his expression is one of perfect tranquility, the furrow between his brows smoothed away and those blue, blue eyes frozen in an expression of stunned acceptance.

It's over for him. You remain frozen for what feels like an eternity, simply staring at the body of the man you killed - the man you loved, no matter how briefly or disastrously. Then, with a strange sense of calm settling over you, you turn the gun on yourself.

"See you around...Chuuya,"

those who made it all the way down here, how’re you feeling?

( ✧≖ ͜ʖ≖)

[communicationthroughlyrics]

She Had Other Plans

You were a successful leader of a criminal empire. Your girlfriend was a successful tease, especially when you are halfway around the globe.

PT. 2

AN: I hate my mind sometimes. I just stew and stew and can't get an idea outta my head. So here is one of them. And this is my first time using one of those text message thingies, so yeah. And before yall ask, yes. there will be a part 2. 😂

TW: smut, daddy kink, strap-on sex, teasing, mentions of murder, mob!boss reader, uhhh yeah. Think that's it.

Word Count: 3.6K

In your line of work, you were away from home constantly. You traveled the world, helping to fuel people's darkest and most deceitful habits, for profit. Exploitation, power, and retribution were your specialties. Your heart had grown cold, at least to those on the outside, which was a necessary trait for your survival. You maintained your polished, playgirl public image well, a successful young business magnate, and you dabbled in philanthropy and charity to keep your reputation to the public clean.

Meanwhile, in the underbelly of society, you were ruthless, ensuring your legacy was cemented even if you departed this godforsaken world. You had climbed the ladder of power with precision, leaving a trail of the broken and betrayed beneath you. It was a world where trust was as fleeting as the morning dew, and everyone had a price. Those who worked for you closely would say you were calculating and charismatic, while those on the wrong side of the line knew you as being one step ahead, making your power felt through silence, vengeance, and detachment.

You had single-handedly become the largest mob boss in the United States, and that quickly spread into other countries, building relationships across the globe. Some were built on trust and loyalty, others on fear and mutual benefit.

Business had called you away to Malta, where you had to bury an up-and-coming threat to your growing kingdom and quell any unrest in your distant ranks. It had been a stressful week, albeit a successful one. When the phone call came across that ushered you away to the Mediterranean, you had been in the middle of…other business. Personal business. Having been teasing your girlfriend all day long, you had finally pushed the sexual tension to a head. The brunette had been panting and begging for you, dressed in lingerie that cost more than most people's cars.

When the call came through, you had left her with explicit expectations as to how she would need to handle her sexual fever in your absence. No touching. No teasing. Most importantly, no whining. That was your number one rule. Begging? Yes. Whining. No.

She had tried her damndest to get you to finish what you had started, but you knew this had to be taken care of expeditiously. So, you left a lace-clad goddess in your shared room while you literally left to murder someone. The following night, she began to push your buttons. She knew your limits, and experience taught her just how far she could push you to get a reaction, one that would benefit you both.

Wanda was 'conveniently' caught outside of your NYC penthouse, leaving in a barely-there skirt with a leather jacket and the pair of black Louboutins you had just bought her. The stocking-clad legs that were strutting out of your building, you knew should be wrapped around your waist, while you had her favorite strap buried to the hilt in her drenched pussy, or wrapped around your head as you mercilessly took out your workday frustrations on her.

However, you were 4,000 miles away, watching photos roll across your social media of the 'mystery woman' who had been able to bag you. You knew she was doing this on purpose, trying to flaunt what you walked out on 12 hours ago, leaving her a babbling, flustered, drenched mess.

Your hand tightened around the phone, your jaw clenched so hard it hurt. Your blood boiled with a mix of anger and desire. You had given her an order, but she had chosen to ignore it. The thought of her walking around like that, looking like that, for anyone else to see made you want to rip out the throat of every man on the street. You had been looking forward to coming home to her, to teaching her a lesson she'd never forget. But now, it looked like she had decided to bring the lesson to you.

She flew under the radar for the next two days, and you were thankful. You missed her greatly, and you wanted to show her just how much when you got home. You were willing to let the wardrobe choice from the other night slide, just to have a night of wanton passion in the penthouse, no punishment, no edging, no teasing.

She had other plans.

You were in the middle of a meeting when your phone started to buzz incessantly in your slacks. This was a meeting you had to focus on, but the constant vibration indication yet another text had been sent was slowly chipping away at your resolve to stay sharp for this meeting. You had told her not to contact you during work hours unless it was an emergency. Looking at some of the texts, you knew this was no emergency. No matter how desperate she made herself sound.

You growled at the phone, knowing she wouldn't respond to any more texts from you. She was playing a game of cat and mouse, and you had a boardroom full of sharks waiting for your undivided attention. You slammed the device down, your eyes narrowing as you turned back to the table. Shutting the phone off, you knew that when it turned back on, you would be greeted with a disaster.

The meeting couldn't end fast enough, you wanted to call her and put her in her place, but the meeting ran long, as you and your new alliance couldn't quite come to an agreement for goods and services rendered.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you had come to an agreement, so you quickly and curtly nodded in everyone's direction, gathering your suit jacket and flinging it over your shoulder as you swiftly made your way down the hall to your waiting car, turning your phone back on as you approached the outside doors.

You climbed into the back of the black Town Car, opening your messages to see some pictures from your girlfriend, taken at obscure angles- her clad in a new lingerie set. You knew it was new, they were a color she hadn't worn before, a navy blue number that stood out against her tanned skin. The photos had been sent with no accompanying text, which was unlike her. Usually, she'd write something teasing, begging for your attention. But these were just…there. They were like silent pleas for your dominance, your authority. You groaned at the images before you, each more provocative than the next.

What made your pulse spike was the Snapchat notification from her. She had just sent you a video. Then there was another. She continued to send you videos until she had reached a total of 11. Knowing these would not just be an ordinary snap, you slipped a headphone into your ear while you opened each video, in the order you received them. The first was her dancing on the pole you installed in the corner of your room, the familiar sound of 'Skin' playing in the background as she worked her hips and taunted you through the phone.

The last video was the final straw. Your most fundamental rule.

She sent you a video of her, sprawled out on the bed, her features were flush, and her chest was heaving. She was still clad in her racy new lingerie, and it was then you noticed it was crotchless. Your mouth went dry at the thought, as her hands made their way up and down her body. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped your phone, the scene before you becoming too much. She buried her fingers knuckle deep in her wet heat, pornographic moans coming through your earbud as you watched her pleasure herself.

You had told her explicitly, no touching herself. You had promised her that when you returned, you would take care of her needs. You had been looking forward to it, to watching her come apart in your arms. But here she was, in your own bed, disobeying you. The betrayal stung, but the sight of her was like a siren's call. You felt a storm of emotions, anger, desire, and something…more. It was a feeling that hadn't surfaced in a long time, something you weren't quite familiar with.

You boarded your jet and tried to calm the storm that was brewing deep within you for the 13-hour flight home. The images of her playing with herself, the thought of her ignoring your command, it was all you could think about. You felt a mix of anger, arousal, and a hint of something else that you hadn't felt in years. She was a challenge, and you hadn't had one a challenge in a very long time.

You tried to distract yourself, completing some work on your phone, trying to read articles about New York politics, but nothing could distract you from the inferno that was building up inside you. Each passing moment brought with it a new wave of desire, the images of her writhing in pleasure burned into your retina. You had to admit, she knew exactly how to push your buttons, and she had just pushed the biggest one of all. You slammed your phone down in frustration, crossing your arms as you peered out the window to the clouds below. After three hours of 'distraction', you finally fell into a restless, lustful slumber.

The flight seemed to drag on forever, but when you landed at JFK, you were more than ready to deal with her. You texted her, telling her to be home, naked, and waiting for you. You didn't care if she had plans or not, she'd learn to prioritize your commands. You had a feeling she was going to be a handful, but that was what you liked about her.

You stalked over towards the waiting convoy of blacked-out vehicles that were waiting to take you home. The sound of your dress shoes echoed through the private lobby to your elevator, as you impatiently waited for the cabled car to come down from the top floor, watching the numbers descend from floor 98 to you, on the third garage floor.

As you stepped into the elevator, you could feel the anticipation building. You were going to show her exactly who was in charge, and what happens when she breaks the cardinal rule. The doors closed with a satisfying 'ping', and you ascended to your penthouse, your mind racing with scenarios of what you would do when you saw her. The elevator doors parted, revealing the sleek, marble floors in your home, the baby grand piano tucked in the corner, and the twinkling New York skyline a backdrop to what carnal acts were about to take place. You turned on your heel, making your way to the furthest room in the house, your bedroom. As you made your way down the corridor to the bedroom, you noticed the doors shut, but a glow came from underneath them.

Your heart rate quickened, your hand hovered over the doorknob, and you took a deep breath before pushing the door open. She lay on the bed, huddled to one side, peacefully sleeping with a book in her hands. She looked innocent, but you knew better. You strode over to the bed, the floorboards giving a slight creak under your weight, but she didn't stir. Carefully, you plucked the book away from her, running your thumb over her nose to wake her up.

"Ragazza monella," you spoke softly, your pent-up frustration leeching into your normally collected voice.

Her eyes snapped open, revealing the deep pools of green that had captivated you from day one. She looked up at you with a lazy smile, not a hint of guilt in her gaze. "You're home," she purred, stretching her limbs like a cat in the sun.

"I see you couldn't wait for me," you said, your voice thick with unspoken accusation as you threw your phone to the side.

Her smile didn't waver. "I've missed you," she replied, her voice a low, seductive purr that sent a shiver down your spine. She sat up, letting the blanket pool around her waist, the hoodie she was wearing you instantly recognized as one of yours.

"I gave you an order, Wanda," you said, your voice low and menacing.

"And I chose to ignore it," she replied, her eyes never leaving yours.

Her audacity was like a drug, and you felt yourself growing more and more crazed at the sight of her. She knew the consequences of her actions, yet she reveled in them. "You know what happens when you don't follow orders," you growled, your hand sliding under the soft fabric of the hoodie to cup her cheek.

Her smile grew wider, and she leaned into your touch. "Do I?" she challenged, her voice a breathy whisper.

With a swift move, you had her pinned down on the bed, the fabric of the hoodie riding up to expose her lingerie-clad body. "You're going to regret this," you warned, your voice dark with desire.

"Am I?" she questioned, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Your hand trailed down her body, tracing the curve of her waist to the apex of her thighs. "You're already wet for me," you murmured, feeling the dampness between her muscular, toned thighs.

"I'm always wet for you, Papi," she emphasized your pet name, knowing how much you adored her calling you that.

Your eyes narrowed at her insolence, and you felt your ego swell with a mix of anger and desire. "You know the rules," you reminded her, your voice a mix of steel and seduction.

"And you know I love to break them," she whispered, her voice a seductive dance in the quiet room.

You grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head, your grip firm but not painful. "This is your last warning," you murmured, your eyes dark with lust and promise of punishment.

Her eyes searched yours, looking for any signs of relenting, but she found none. Instead, she felt a thrill run through her body. This was what she had been craving, what she had missed in your absence. The power play, the delicious tension between your dominance and her submission.

"What's it going to be?" she asked, her voice a challenge wrapped in velvet.

Without a word, you yanked the hoodie over her head, leaving her in just the new lingerie set. The room was filled with the sound of fabric tearing as you ripped away the crotchless part of her underwear, exposing her glistening folds to the cool air. She gasped at the sudden exposure, her body arching into yours.

"You're going to learn your place," you said, your voice a low rumble. You leaned down, your mouth capturing hers in a bruising kiss that claimed ownership over her. She moaned into your mouth, her body responding instinctively to your touch, her legs wrapping around your waist as she pulled you closer.

The kiss grew more intense, your tongue invading her mouth, demanding submission. She met your dominance with her own passion, her teeth grazing your bottom lip, drawing a bead of blood. The taste of it made you growl, and you deepened the kiss, your hand sliding down to squeeze her ass.

Finally, you pulled away, breathing heavily. "You're going to get what you asked for," you warned, your eyes dark with lust.

Without another word, you flipped her over onto her stomach, her ass in the air, begging for your attention. You smacked her once, watching as the skin turned pink. She moaned into the pillow, her hips moving back, silently asking for more. You didn't disappoint, your hand coming down again and again, leaving a pattern of red across her skin. Each slap echoed through the room, punctuating the sound of your heavy breaths and her whimpers of pleasure.

You felt your own need growing, and you were glad that you had opted to change into her favorite suit with a strap-on surprise. You knew she was close, her body shaking with each smack, and you couldn't wait to watch her greedy pussy swallow your new toy whole. You slid your hand between her legs, finding her wet and ready. You whispered, "You're going to come for me now," and thrust two fingers inside her, curling them in a way that made her scream into the pillow.

Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing around your hand. You didn't stop, though, continuing to fuck her with your fingers until she was begging for mercy. Only when she was trembling did you pull away, standing up to remove your clothes.

When you were naked, you climbed onto the bed, the new dildo standing at attention. "You've had your fun," you said, your voice a low growl. "Now it's my turn." Her eyes widened at the sheer girth of your chosen method of punishment.

"I…I don't think that will fit," she whined, her lust-blown eyes boring straight into yours.

"Oh, it will. You remember your safeword, correct?" you nibbled down her neck as you settled between her legs.

"Yes," she moaned, her back arching against you.

"What is it?"

"Cl…clementine," she stuttered, her body wiggling and writhing beneath you.

You nodded as you slammed into her without preamble, her body accepting you with ease. She screamed your name, her legs tightening around your waist as you began to move. Each thrust was punctuated with a smack to her ass, leaving her skin stinging and her pussy clenching around you. You knew she liked it rough, she was addicted to the pain, but you were going to give her more than she had bargained for tonight.

This was your domain, and she had forgotten her place. You were going to remind her, over and over again, until she was nothing but a quivering mess beneath you. Until she understood that no matter how much she tested you, she would always be yours to command, to punish, to pleasure.

You slammed into her, the sound of your hips slapping against her filling the room. The dildo stretched her to her limits, each inch driving deeper until she was crying out for you to stop. But you didn't. You knew she could take it, knew she craved the pain that came with your passion. The bulge from the tip of the toy poked out her abdomen with every thrust, you pressed down on her stomach where it was appearing, causing her to arch further into your touch.

Her moans grew louder, more desperate, as you picked up the pace. You watched the way her body moved underneath you, the way her breasts bounced with each thrust, and the way her ass cheeks clapped together. You felt yourself getting closer, your strokes becoming more erratic. You reached around, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at you. "Who do you belong to?" you demanded, your voice a low growl.

"You," she whispered, her eyes glazed over with pleasure.

"Say it louder," you ordered, giving her another smack on the ass.

"I belong to you!" she screamed, her voice hoarse from the moans that had escaped her mouth.

"Beg to cum, amore," you growled in her ear, nibbling down the shell.

"Fuck," she moaned out, her eyes briefly fluttering open before screwing shut again.

"Not until you beg," you reminded her, your voice like a whip crack in the quiet of the room. You could feel your orgasm building, the muscles in your thighs tightening with each powerful thrust. Her cries grew more desperate, her hips moving back to meet yours, pushing herself onto the dildo with a fervor that was almost painful to watch.

"Please," she finally begged, her voice breaking. "I need to come."

You smirked, feeling the power surge through you. "That's all you got, baby?" You taunted, increasing the speed and force of your thrusts. "After all that, the teasing, the videos, this is how you show me you miss me? This is how you show me that you need Papi to make you feel good?" She whined and squirmed beneath you, her body shaking with the effort of holding back her climax. "Beg harder," you whispered, leaning down to bite her earlobe.

Her voice grew more frantic. "Ple…please, Papi," she gasped. "I need to come, I need you to make me come."

"You can do better than that," you grabbed ahold of one of her legs, pulling it over your shoulder as you continued the relentless assault on her swollen, leaking pussy. You leaned down, resting your other hand on her throat, gently applying pressure as you picked up your pace. "I said to beg for it, so fucking beg for it," you whispered, your breath hot against her skin.

Her eyes snapped open, the green orbs locking onto yours, filled with a mix of anger and desperation. "Fuck me harder," she pleaded, her voice strained. "Make me cum, Papi."

The sound of her demanding sent you over the edge, and you slammed into her, the erratic thrusts as you came only spurring her pleasure further. You felt her pussy tighten around the dildo, her walls pulsing as she climaxed hard, her body shaking beneath you. You didn't stop until she was limp, her cries of pleasure turning into breathless gasps.

You continued to work the toy into her, slowly building her back up.

"I didn't give you permission, amore mio," you looked down at her, panting as her chest heaved.

"I know," she panted back, "but I had to make sure you knew how much I missed you."

You couldn't help but smirk at her audacity. She knew how much power she held over you, how much she could push you. "You're going to pay for that," you whispered, your voice a dark promise.

Her eyes lit up, and she bit her bottom lip, egging you on. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

[baby-tini]

Yandere ADA!Dazai alphabet plase? You don't have too do them all, just D, A, Z and I

TW- Physical Abuse, Psychological Abuse, Stockholm Syndrome, Manipulation, Controlling Behavior, Victim Blaming, Threat With A Gun, Love-Bombing, Talk Of Murder, Isolation, Implied Murder, Implied Torture

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? Dazai is very intense when it comes to affection, he's very clingy and you are very rarely away from him, but even when you aren't with him, he'll call and text you a lot, constantly checking up on you and he would even bug your phone with a tracking device or at the very least, he'll hack it too find you. But he does really well with playing it off as if he's being playful or that he's just concerned for you, afterall, he's a detective, he knows the uglies of the world.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling? He's willing too get messy, very messy and he's more then willing too kill for you. But what he's willing too do and what he can do is very different, especially while he's in the agency. He won't kill if he can't get away with it. But also, he doesn't need too kill, especially with his level of intelligence, if there's someone that he doesn't like that's flirting with you, he'll just frame them for a crime. Because who's the police gonna believe? A detective in the ADA, someone who's helped them with cases before, or a suspected criminal who all the evidence points back to?

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them? ADA!Dazai wouldn't abduct you, simply because he can't. Mainly because of his job, especially if you also work for the agency and you go missing, the agency are going too look for you and Dazai knows this. So, he would mostly stick to isolation and not letting you go out too much, or, he'll make up excuses as too why you can't go somewhere or hang-out with someone, which will then cause you too lose all of your family and friends. I do think he would mock you, but only when you're pissing him off, he'll talk about how you have no friends, no family and he'll even threaten too leave you, when you go against him, because then you'll have absolutely nothing and he knows that.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will? He would. Absolutely he would, because what you want doesn't really matter to him. Now, I don't think ADA!Dazai would go as far as too noncon you, but I do think he would give you forced affection. Whether you want too be touched in an affectionate way or not, doesn't matter to him, if he's in the mood too just lay and cuddle with you, you're going too lay and cuddle. So, basically, you have no say in pretty much anything, ever. If he wants something, he's going too have it, it doesn't matter if he has too force it.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? Not much honestly, even if he is obsessed with you, he still keeps his secrets. He doesn't want you too ever feel comfortable enough too make you think that you can exploit him in anyway. Now, sure, he'll have his vulnerable moments, he is still human after all, but he's really good at playing it off as if it was a joke and he wasn't very serious.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back? He'd be quite amused actually, he'd find your whole show quite the entertainment. But also in perfect Dazai fashion, he'd make you feel like you're doing too much, as if you're getting so worked up for no reason. If you ever did get so angry to the point where you attempt too get physical with him though, he wouldn't be so amused.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape? Yes and no. Yes simply because that's who he is, he likes too play mind games with literally everyone and he takes an immense amount of pleasure in fucking with peoples head. But also no because he does have a genuine interest in you, whatever that may be and he doesn't want you too think that he doesn't care for you at all. As for escaping, there's no real escaping simply because he's not holding you hostage but he does hate when he doesn't know where you are, so no, he doesn't.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? The worst experience you ever had with Dazai is when you tried too break up with him. It was when the two of you had a really bad argument, and again, he was trying too minimize the situation and that pissed you off even more and the words just came out. That's when you saw his eyes just go dark and become empty as he stepped towards you, the air noticeably becoming thicker as he stared you down. You found out just why Dazai was a torture specialist in the mafia that night.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? Dazai just wants too be happy and not constantly worry about you leaving or getting hurt, his ideal future would just be you being with him. He wants a happy life, he doesn't want too constantly dwell on the negatives of his life; if it's with you, he doesn't mind what kind of future.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? Jealousy isn't really a big thing for Dazai, he's a very confident person. Now, playfully he'll act jealous and become all clingy if your attention is directed at someone else. But, if he were too become genuinely jealous, well then... things would get very ugly as he stares the person down, his eyes lacking all emotion as he pulls you away with him. If he's angry enough though, you might just see a news story about them, reporting his mysterious death.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling? He's very loving with you, very touchy and sweet overall. You guys look ideal out in public, it's just behind closed doors when things can get a little ugly. He does have a reputation out in public so he makes sure too keep himself in check when there are people around, but when you get home, he does a complete 180, especially if you were, in his words, misbehaving in public. But, besides that, he's a pretty good boyfriend.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling? Love-bombing. He's very affectionate, very quickly, never leaving you alone, at all. He's constantly showering you in compliments and giving you gifts, telling you about how you're the first woman he's ever felt this way about, which is true, but he said that the first week of being with you. How the love of his life and he quickly engulfs your life and he gets you too move in with him very soon after being with him, everything happens so fast that it's overwhelming for you, but again, he makes everything feel like it's natural and that's he's just so in love with you that you don't really question him.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? Yes, they are extremely different. Dazai is very two-faced and puts up a lot of facades. When you met him, he was so sweet and loving and intelligent.. but then his true colors came to the surface and things turned ugly. He started too become controlling and very psychologically abusive. But, that's just how he is in general, he's a manipulator and a very good one at that.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling? You're already in a constant punishment with how much he keeps you isolated, but, he doesn't punish you very often, surprisingly. Simply because anytime you're pissy with him, he won't take you very seriously and he'd much rather cuddle with you then dish out punishments, he's lazy. But when he does, they're very calculated and impactful, he's more focused on breaking you down mentally then actually putting his hands on you, but he'll still spank your ass or give your hair a nice harsh little tug when he needs too.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? A lot, if not all of them. He becomes quite the controlling boyfriend, he's always asking you where you are and who you're with. He checks your phone constantly, you have no privacy whatsoever, he is in control of your whole life. He tells you what you can and can't where, he talks for you, he orders food for you, he'll bathe you. You will have sense of independence in this relationship, he doesn't even let toy think for yourself, anytime you have an idea he'll shut you down and tell you what he thinks you should do instead.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling? Dazai is a very patient person and it takes a lot for him too actually get to the point of being genuinely pissed off. He can tell when you're purposely trying too piss him off, he knows what you're doing. Sometimes he'll playfully feed into it and pretend too be upset, but again, he can tell what you're doing so he won't feed into all the time.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? First off, there is no leaving or escaping him, there's no where that you could go and him not find you. He is quite literally a detective, his whole job is finding people, you are no different, he will find you. If you do die though, it would break him quite a bit and he'd drink even more then he already does. It would actually frequent his suicide attempts and they wouldn't be like something like, jumping in the river, no, he'd desperately want too die and be with you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go? Again, he wouldn't abduct you, he can't. Now, if he over did it with his little mind games and you were genuinely mentally exhausted, he may feel guilt and comfort you. But, usually he doesn't feel guilt because he sees it as something that needs too be done. Letting you go though? No. He would not, he doesn't care about how much you beg and plead for him too let you just be by yourself, and let you go out. Because it's not gonna happen.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)? Loss really. Dazai has lost a lot of people in his life and he's tired of it. So if he has too become a little controlling too keep you safe, so be it. He only wants too keep you safe and he doesn't care what he has too do in order for that too happen. You'll understand one day that he's doing all of this for you.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? It depends on the reason why you're doing all that, because you'll get a couple different reactions from Dazai. If you're crying because of a punishment, he'll just shrug you off, and tell you that's what you get for misbehaving. If you're screaming because you're frustrated with him because he never listens to you or lets you do things for yourself, he will minimize the problem and make you feel like you're acting over-dramatic. Isolating yourself though, that will not work, if you for example, lock yourself in a room, that's not gonna do anything for you, because he can pick locks and he's quite skilled at it.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere? Sort of, since we're talking about ADA!Dazai, he won't kidnap you. Mainly because he can't, because of his job, especially if you also work for the agency and you go missing, the agency are going too look for you and Dazai knows this. So, he would mostly stick to isolation and not letting you go out too much or he'll make up excuses as too why you can't go somewhere or hang-out with someone.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape? None really. I would say physically, but even then, Dazai can fight, he was in the mafia. No his martial arts aren't as good as that of someone like Chuuyas, but he can still take care of himself in a physical fight. Also, baby he has a gun, and he's shown time and time again that not only does he know how too use said gun but also that he's not afraid too use it. Mentally though, there's no winning there obviously. He is far too intelligent too be thrown off by some meaningless little comment.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling? Yes, he would. I do think he would mainly be psychologically abusive instead of physically abusive. Now I say mainly because, I do think he would still hit you, but Dazais whole thing is mind games, plus people can't see psychological scars like they can with physical scars. Also psychological trauma lasts longer then physical trauma, because scars and bruises will heal. Being psychologically broken down will be much harder too bounce back from, and Dazai understands that.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over? Too win you over, he's pulling out all of the stops, cranking up his charm by tenfold. He'll take you to all these cute places and get you little gifts too charm you. Worshipping you though? If Dazai is in deep enough, he'd see you as like a landline of sorts, and would make sure that you're safe. Probably not to the point where you're a reason for him living, but to the point where he actually starts too enjoy life, because he gets too be with you.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap? Pretty long actually, like I said, he's a very patient man and he can wait. It's a pretty slow thing, especially with all the love-bombing that he uses. He knows you won't just automatically cling to him and go out with him, so he's willing too work for it, but even he can get impatient, especially if you reject him. He will snap and he will become very confrontational, to the point you become scared of him and are only with him out of fear.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling? Not really, and also not fully, it would be more like him getting rid of things that he doesn't like about your behavior because he would find no pleasure in you being a broken shell of your former self. He'd actually find it quite boring in all honesty. If it was something like you constantly challenging him, which would piss him off, he'd correct that behavior. But he wouldn't break you completely because there's a reason that he likes you and once that reason goes away he'd get bored.

[chaotic-banana-fish]

THE CAMERA AND THE GUN

(tw: discussion/explicit mention of Ash Lynx's past)

I think that as a fandom, we don't appreciate the importance of Eiji being a photographer (or going to the US as one) enough.

Given Ash's past, cameras are something he's very vulnerable under. He's constantly been exploited for his body and image, and the child corn videos of him were still up for distribution until Max burned all of it. Even the sound of cameras can be a triggering memory, such as when he's confronting Kippard and he's transported back into a childhood memory with the incessant "click click click" of the camera.

Eiji, showing up to that bar, pulling up a camera with his job literally being to take pictures of him, embodied everything Ash should distrust. However Eiji asks is he can take the photos, and Ash replies "not the face", this obviously makes sense given he's a criminal, but with what we learn later it's obviously more than that.

Ash was carrying a gun, Eiji a camera, to both of them what the other person was carrying was the greater weapon. However, famously, Eiji asks for Ash's gun, takes it and gives it back and says "thank you for trusting me with it", which I think is really key. Ash has just seen that if he can trust Eiji with a gun, perhaps he can trust him with a camera.

Which he does. We never really see Eiji take pictures of Ash during the course of the show, but we know he did thanks to garden of light, where we actually see some of them. The fact that Eiji has a camera, giving him the power to make Ash feel vulnerable and observed, but doesn't at any moment, must've given Ash so much hope. In the same way he tells Eiji that it's the first time anyone has done something for him without "asking for something in return" this is probably the first time someone has had the power to hurt him and not used it.

The fact Ash can trust Eiji so fully with a camera, and feel comfortable and unguarded around him just speaks so so much to the nature of their relationship and just how deep and true it was. With Eiji, Ash really can just be himself "a boy of 17 years old" he's not afraid in the slightest, even if every single thing from his past should tell him to run. The trust Ash has in Eiji is just as great and moving as the trust Eiji has in Ash. Eiji tells Ash he was never scared of him, not for a moment, which is something that Ash finds great comfort in, but it's also true the other way around.

Eiji the one who trusted a boy with a gun and Ash , the one who trusted a boy with a camera. Gosh I love them.

🍌🐟

[unitchiefs-blackbirdphoenix]

17x03 Spoilers/Thoughts

(Not very long of a post tbh. There’s just too much to kinda unpack tho)

(TWs bc the show doesn’t really give you much, but self-harm (around 32:00) and talks of p*rn and online exploitation) I think I might make the tws italicized in my spoilers to give that heads up.

This is directed by Adam Rodriguez!

The whole case basically isn’t connected to Gold Star, I don’t think it is. There’s a mask involved now and Tara and Rossi take on the case. Rossi trying to get through the window was pretty funny tho.

Emily is off with her old neighbor (played by Paul F. Tompkins), Brian Garrity. She is trying to get him to take down some misinformation. It’s pretty funny seeing those two actually.

Also Brian gets beaten up by a group of men and Emily finds him and tries to protect him, but the police come in and see her with her gun out, so now…

Emily gets arrested and framed

I kinda barely paid attention to Tyler at this first watch but uhhh he meets a guy named Sebastian Gasper

JJ and Luke team up together but Luke is feeling absolutely guilty of what Emily and Voit told him.

Voit said from ep 2 that there is a BAU Gate, which is a site full of memes and pictures and stuff about the team. But Emily says there’s something that involves JJ in it that Luke couldn’t believe was true.

BAU p*rn. And all of it is of JJ.

JJ and Luke talk to Sydney and on their way, they talk about what’s been bothering him. It’s just so hard for him to not keep it quiet and I feel for him.

JJ talking about how good of a leader Emily is and that she knew it would be for the best anyway.

And her saying whatever Luke doesn’t tell her will be protecting her and what he does tell, she will get hurt.

JJ is aware of the BAU Gate thing since before she was a profiler, so during her liaison days. She thought it was a lot of anime on it and ridiculous stuff of the team, but something on her face the more they talked about it seems like her fear of what Luke tells her later is affecting her when she suspects it.

There’s stuff with Sydney and Voit’s daughters.

Really cute moment with Luke playing soccer which… for the sake of this being the happy thing of it all, Luke and JJ playing soccer together 🥺

Holly(?) is the one having a hard time grappling with the fact that her father is a criminal.

In one scene, she cuts herself before her mom comes in to stop her.

Sydney talks with JJ and Luke after about going into witness protection and everything they need to do.

After that…. Luke finally tells JJ.

It’s honestly better for people to watch the scenes for this upcoming storyline for JJ bc I have no other way to describe it.

But Luke tells her everything he learned from the secret, that the site was flagged by Homeland Security in 2014 (said by Emily) and Voit and his network has an updated version of it.

He tells JJ that it’s not the other agents that were on the site but just JJ.

She was the focal point of it all.

The absolute heartbreak in JJ’s whole being. Everything is just sucked out of her. And if you thought this was bad, the next scene of this is worse.

After everyone leaves the office, JJ closes the blinds to the roundtable room and checks the website for herself. It’s just…. Heartbreaking and haunting are the two words to describe it.

There’s a bunch I have on this probably on a separate post but damn CM. They really went there. And it’s the worst of the worst. (Not to compare storylines or trauma but nothing can really go beyond that)

[mysticstarlightduck]

Villain Crimes Tag!

Let's go with the main villains from What Lurks In The Hollow for this one. Again: given that this is a post about very, very bad people (after all they are the villains of this WIP) it will contain TWs for some pretty nasty things.

Rules: List all the real-world crimes your villains are guilty of committing!

Mayor Samuel Whitaker

Serial Killings/Multiple First Degree Murders (most of the victims were minors, ages 5-17, but some adults as well)

Demonic Rituals + Ritualistic Sacrifices of Human Beings

Ritualistic Torture, most notably the torture of a 15-year-old (Jace Donovan, Savvanah Hahn's stepbrother who went missing kidnapped by a "mysterious psycho" was actually held captive by the Mayor himself, and only died 6 days later to bloodloss + ritualistic stabbings, his body was never recovered)

Multiple accounts of kidnapping

Abuse of Power, Corruption

Fraud/Embezzlement

Sending his henchmen to vandalize and damage property belonging anyone who stands in his way

Racketeering

Insider Trading

Forgery

Environmental Vandalism

False Imprisonment

Harassment/Having his henchmen stalk his "rivals"

Blackmail and Threats

Brainwashing and Cult Activity

Using Dark Magic to maintain influence over an entire town, gain longevity and make people adore him through the power of his venomous words

Bribing and Lobbying

Assault & Battery

Stalking Minors

Mrs. Adelaide Draycott

Harassment of a Sexual Nature

Attempted Sexual Exploitation (At multiple points in the story Mrs Draycott tries to get Dylan, 23M, to sleep with her or "fall in love" with her by using blackmail and trying to corner him into situations where he wouldn't have a choice. Luckily he manages to avoid all her attempts.)

Persistent Stalking

Breaking and Entering

Defamation/Slander/Libel

Emotional Manipulation (Gaslighting/Blackmailing/Threatening)

Indecent Contact/Unwanted Touching

Damaging of Property

Intimidation of a Minor (Mrs Draycott often implies to Amy, Dylan's 16-year-old sister, that Dylan is gonna get hurt if he keeps being "stubborn" and that he is already an outcast to the town so no one would care if something happened to him or Amy herself)

False Accusations/False Complaints/Perjury

Sheriff Isaac Clarke

First Degree Murder, covered up

Abuse of Power (as a police officer)

Excessive Use of Force/Police Brutality

False Arrest

Intimidation/Blackmail

Criminal Conspiracy/Colluding with Criminals

Obstruction of Justice/Aiding and Abetting (covering up the literal serial killer crimes of the Mayor in exchange for a hefty paycheck)

Threats of Violence

Misuse of Surveillance

Wrongful Seizure of Property

Fabricating Evidence (against someone completely innocent)

False Search Warrants/Invasion of Property

Fraudulent Reports

Manslaughter/Second Degree Murder

Attempted Murder (of multiple people, including minors)

Extortion

Torture (disguised as interrogation)

Soliciting Bribes

Aiding in Racketeering

Branden Heddam

Extreme Child Abuse & Child Neglect

Child Endangerment

Abandonment of Parental Responsibilities

Threats of Extreme Violence/Threats of Death

Psychological/Emotional Abuse

Attempted Kidnapping of a Minor (While Zach, his stepson, is on-the-run from him and hiding at Amy & Dylan's place, Branden and his biker gang attempt to kidnap him)

Multiple Accounts of Assault & Battery

Attempt to Contribute to Minor Delinquency

Terrorizing

Aggravated Assault/Battery of a Man in front of his ward + Intentional Psychological Trauma

Theft/Burglary/Robbery/Mugging

Gang Activities + Gang Involved Violence

Drug Dealing

Bearing Illegal Weapons

Illegal Hunting/Poaching

Environmental Damage

Reckless/Drunk Driving

Cathleen "Cath" Edwards

Economic Duress

Blackmail/Emotional Manipulation

Attempted Title Deed Forgery

Rent Gouging/Unlawful Rent Increases

Loan Sharking

Illegal Fees and Charges

Stalking

Predatory Lending

Debt Bondage

Coercive Collection Practices

Conspiracy to Commit Murder/Conspiracy to Commit Kidnapping

Racketeering

Sabotage

Blackmail of a Minor

Disturbing the Peace

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @wyked-ao3, @topazadine @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart, @ray-writes-n-shit

@writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@the-golden-comet

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid @thecomfywriter

@thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams @amaiguri

@cherrychiplip @thecomfywriter @thelovelymachinery @bookwormclover

@differentnighttale, @leahnardo-da-veggie

[supersources]

interview with the vampire (2022):  episode 5,  a vile hunger for your hammering heart. tw:  murder, death, abuse, violence, blood, strong language, all vampire things.

* i can't die like this!

* let my dog live.

* it's a kill list in a teenager's handwriting.

* i'm trying to think of something more fucked up than this.

* they'll scale the sides of this building, force their way inside and paint the walls with his blood.

* don't look down on them, look in the mirror.

* he's an opinionated young man, he lives to share these opinions even when they are not solicited.

* what does he taste like?

* i didn't ask that.

* you were thinking it.

* he tastes like honey and pineapple, he stuffs himself for days before he offers himself to me. would you like to sample?

* i care for him more than he cares for himself.

* stay out of my head.

* you wouldn't find the corroboration you're seeking even if you could. we burned, we buried. and a convention city is not motivated to advertise grim statistics.

* i know what i'd do, but you've cut my hands off.

* don't do that, it's private.

* what night is it?

* i couldn't hear you over the tugboat.

* a whole lot of concern has been wasted on you these past months.

* did you read my other ones?

* well, you better hope and pray you taught me how to clean up good.

* you gonna let him do this to me?!

* i've read some passages out loud, i'm afraid. hurtful words for both of your guardians.

* i buried them, okay?! way out of town! nothing out there for miles, no one's ever gonna find them except maybe criminals burying bodies of their own.

* i'm never gonna forget what happened here. i hate you.

* get out of my room!

* you want money?

* i mean, it's always a straight line with you. yes, i am asking for your support in my campaign.

* sounds like there's a maniac on the loose.

* don't be too startled if the police come knocking on your door.

* i was in the middle of cleaning when they knocked.

* you often leave your daughter alone with access to illegal spirits?

* that's my daughter's room!

* oh, i'm getting ready for bed!

* have you lost your goddamn mind? overnight, in a jail cell, with no coffin. we all be dead by morning.

* we do not bring souvenirs into the house!

* so much wine in his blood... and beer, and whisky.

* you wanted her, you fix her!

* do you remember our life, how happy we were before her? an anvil tied around our ankles, pulling us towards the pitch-black ocean floor.

* who am i supposed to love?

* how are you gonna fix it, huh? which one of you is gonna fuck me?

* well, you're not my type, i like a fuller figure.

* if you could find other vampires, which you won't, they would shred you to strips because you are built like a bird, because you are a mistake.

* how about you shut the fuck up?

* he treats us like shit and you take it! why is that?

* you, as cruel as the devil ever made, to refuse me one love when you got two!

* i've been entertaining myself.

* i'll kill her soon.

* don't run off...

* why did you take me home? why not a hospital? maybe i'd have a handsome husband by now, or he'd be plain with a good disposition. that'd be fine too. i'd be sweeping floors, making dinners, nursing babies. maybe i'd go to church... you think on that some.

* i had no words for her, what words were there? "it all happened so fast", "i was trying to save you"... "all vampires are born out of trauma."

* poor dear. she wasn't held enough in between ritualistic murders.

* look, charlie manson wrote a couple of beautiful songs. still, he was charlie manson.

* is that all you think of her?

* it won't matter what your intentions are... it's the world out there right now.

* once you put it out there, they decide what it is. it can get away from you.

* i won't have her exploited.

* keep reading.

* keep talking.

* assume we are under suspicion. assume our finances no longer provide us protection.

* make your kills outside of the city, one a night. no persons of note... unfortunates, undesirables.

* we should leave the city, start anew, turn a betrayal into an opportunity. new york, chicago, los angeles...

* we should dismantle her room.

* she'll be back.

* there would be no roaring twenties for us.

* we were underground for seven years.

* (name), come home. i know i hurt you. i know i can make it right again.

* little girl... i'm talking to you. now what were you doing in the library? you're not allowed in there.

* i don't talk to strangers.

* you can read?

* just as i thought, a little thief. you're coming with me.

* what are you gonna do after that? after you turn her in, after it makes you feel like a big man, what's your next move, you think?

* you're not allowed to ride one of those on campus.

* this is our school, where is your fighting pride?

* you hungry?

* flaubert's style is so dense. the absence of metaphor is so striking...

* should we make it a night of the two?

* you sound like every pompous sorbonne student i've ever eaten.

* should i do it like you instead? read the first ten pages of every book and pass myself off as cultured?

* well, at least you're listening. i sit there thinking "light yourself on fire, see if he'll notice."

* you draw me into your gloom.

* it's your fault she's gone. if you hadn't pushed her...

* i cannot listen to this insanity about (name) one more time.

* i got to hear my own funeral. only couple dozen people showed up, most didn't have much to say. started talking about the weather a few minutes in.

* poor fella digging my grave lies resting on the family plot.

* what was he like, your maker?

* it ain't like that, he's more like a dad.

* oh, now there's three of us.

* got me wondering what it'd be like, ride with others, hunt in a pack. a little fang gang.

* you got a name?

* you don't kill like a (name), you kill like a killer.

* there are four pages torn out... did she tear them out? didn't seem like something she would do...

* when you do that, when you editorialize, however noble the reasoning, it calls into question all of the other shit you're shovelling my way.

* don't ask again.

* it could be her, but i'm the one who is presently standing in front of you.

* so, if my considerable considerables continue to be squandered...

* hello? oh, sorry... no, it's good to hear your voice.

* we're headed north... crash cleaned us out. and don't offer, 'cause i'm not asking.

* you look good.

* don't need that either, (name). or... whatever you are that took my (name).

* i prayed myself old, begging what to do about you. god never talked back, so... this is how it has to be, for me, for my family. you understand?

* i've come to apologize, i put you both in a bad spot. i wasn't right in my head... i am now.

* apology not accepted.

* so, quick stop home to do laundry before you fuck off for good?

* perused a few folklore anthologies and now you're going to cross the ocean to take on a society of monsters?

* if what i've read is lies, then tell me what's true.

* seven years and what's changed other than you need a housekeeper?

* the vampires out there are vicious... oh, but you know that already. who did you meet out there?

* that's it, keep 'em scared. that's his way.

* we took her life from her. we cursed her.

* come with me! come with me, (name)!

* i thought i could live without you but i was wrong.

* his love is a small box he keeps you in. don't stay in it!

* a thousand nights of sulking, and the first sight of her you're just gonna up and leave me?!

* please, come with me! let's be vampires worthy of your love!

* i fought myself a million times, fought my nature, controlled my temper... i never once harmed you.

* let him go... he didn't do nothing. it's me you want.

* i have patiently waited in vain for you to love me as i love you. just say it... i'm never going to love you. it would help me a great deal to hear that from your lips... your quivering, hateful lips.

* let go of me.

* anything for you.

[yourbelgianthings]

"when mr. pretty rolls up, you are ensorceled."

a short montrose character study! ~500 words, spoilers for what the fourth heist is but nothing else, no tws

montrose remembered the first time he put the mask on, but now it felt like he had never lived without it. it was easier in so many ways. working at the arcade, for one: he would recommend anyone with a customer service job try it. customers being unable to see his face improved things for everyone. deeper than that, though, it allowed montrose to approach relationships on his own terms. he liked having full control of what he shared with people and when, rather than accidentally letting things slip through his expression and others drawing conclusions or misinterpreting him. for most of his life, he had been nobody special, just some guy whose childhood fixation on a particular amusement park had never faded. montrose pretty, gentleman thief, became almost a role to play. the charisma was natural, but now it had a direction, a way to be channeled and best utilized. for good? well, not necessarily, but the company he kept didn't mind. between beef, emerich, and him, someone needed to be the face of the operation. it was surprising that the three of them got along at all, but there was no point questioning it. "hey, earth to montrose!" beef's voice snapped him back to the discussion at hand; he really had been lost in thought. "i'm sorry, gentlemen. forgive my lapse in attention, back to planning the heist, shall we?" theft as a profession suited montrose almost too well. he oozed charisma and his easy southern drawl had a way of charming anyone he wanted something from. beyond montrose pretty, the base role, he also had a penchant for creating additional aliases (all under the surname goodparty, of course). something about bringing someone else to life was just irresistible to him. acting was easier than authenticity, playing a part was safer than sharing his own personality. was that an issue? probably, but he could deal with that later, and if it was always for later, then it would become never. if nothing else, montrose pretty was an expert in compartmentalizing. gathering supplies to steal the gallspire was all that was on his mind at the moment. well, that, and his excitement to return to ephemera. it had been far too long since his last visit; he couldn't wait to introduce his friends to artemesius goodparty, hawkblade of the emerald coven. hold on. montrose froze in the middle of donning his long coat. did he just think of beef and emerich as his friends? they had always been his coworkers, but as their criminal exploits around the park escalated, their camaraderie had also grown in a way that hadn't registered with him until now. smiling softly under his mask, montrose headed out to the main area of the arcade where the others were already waiting. "sorry to keep you boys," he said jovially, "let's do this!" putting an arm around each of their shoulders (or more like their lower backs, beef and emerich were both much taller), and telling them: "i can't think of two other people i'd rather steal the gallspire with!", montrose felt ready for anything.

[stoneagedevil]

All Will Be Right with the World | Miguel O’Hara x Reader

TW/CW: Alluding to suicide(ish), abuse, alluding to sexual activity, alluding to gore.

-🕷️-

You’d been mulling it over for some time now. Ever since the answers to the questions you had were brought together, you’d been thinking what your next course of action should be.

You were broken. Something was definitely wrong. We weren’t supposed to be feeling this.

You weren’t supposed to be feeling anything at all.

Fear. Anger. Confusion. Yearning.

Love.

These were all things you were familiar with, but were never to feel. Through your years working dedicatedly to the underground criminal agency that had so carefully crafted you, you’d seen these emotions firsthand from your targets. You were an expert at reading people. You were an expert at everything, but this? Feeling emotion instead of identifying it and exploiting it for your agency’s personal gain? It’s never happened. Perhaps this was an easily fixable side effect of the venom. Something causing the emotional part of your brain to go haywire. To start working.

But who could you tell in order for this to be resolved? You never were afraid of death. You weren’t programmed that way. But now? Now?

Now, if you were disposed of because of this flaw, you’d never see him again. Never again get a taste of the emotion you felt from being close to him. Never get closer, even.

But the moment you told your leaders about this “bug” for lack of a better term, you’d most certainly be eliminated. And what a waste! Millions of dollars had gone into your creation. The perfect genes, for health, for beauty, for capacity to learn, for capability. The perfect training - for being able to speak hundreds of different languages, for being able to adapt, for being able to fight with ease and grace, for learning multiple fighting styles to ensure you’d never be bested. Everything about you was thought out from the very beginning. Not a hair was to be out of place.

And then you, a genetically engineered superhuman, was bitten by a genetically engineered superspider. Now it’s all fucked. If your skin was never broken by the fangs of that stupid science experiment from God-knows-where, you’d never have met Jessica, and she’d never have recruited you.

You never would have met Miguel.

And all would be right with the world.

But it didn’t turn out that way. You met him. You met all of them. And despite your stoic robotic-ness, they were so warm and inviting. You’d never heard please’s and thank you’s before from people in a higher position than you. You’d never heard praises for a job well done. The people of the Spider Society gave you those things. You couldn’t possibly throw it all away.

And Miguel. When you’d gotten distracted recently by how focused he looked in the heat of battle, you’d complete disregarded your own safety. But how could you not look at him? He was gorgeous. Never before had you looked at another human being with admiration. You face was warm, your heart was racing, and for the first time, you felt alive. However, while staring, you completely disregarded one of the most important rules in fighting with an enemy: never take your eyes off of your opponent.

So it certainly came as a surprise when you were sent flying into a structurally unsound building, the force of your body sending a large piece of concrete hurdling towards your disoriented self. You’d heard your name be called - No, be desperately yelled out. Hoarse, painful. Scared, worried. You could identify these emotions. But the surprise was that they were directed towards you and your well-being.

Miguel had made it in the nick of time, using all of the strength he could possibly muster to counter the heavy concrete that would’ve left you an unidentifiable bloody heap of remains.

“Y-Y/N, GO!” He shouted, voice strained just as his body was under the weight.

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You scrambled to your feet - you never scrambled, you were supposed to be graceful - and you booked it out from underneath the concrete. Miguel swiftly turned and threw the crumbling piece of wall at the anomaly you two were supposed to be catching. Once he was sure the anomaly was neutralized, he rushed over to you once more.

Everything felt like slow motion. It was so different from the fast-paced life you lived. You felt warm palms on your face, and the comfort they brought was more disorientating than almost being met with you untimely demise.

“Y/N, are you okay? Are you hurt?” Your eyes were widened, surprised gaze snapping straight into his concerned one. He craned his neck in all sorts of directions, eyes darting around your person in search of even the slightest injury. And then your line of sight was blurry.

“What? What is this?” You breathed heavily, frightened at the overwhelming amount of moisture in your eyes. One of your hands shakily reached up to your face, catching a falling tear. You looked down at the drop in confusion.

“You’re crying.” He said gently. He took in this show of emotion. You’d told him about your creation, and creation was the key word. You’d never had a birthday, for you’d never been born at all. He researched you day and night at your divulged information. You were unlike anyone he’d ever met before. You were supposedly engineered to not feel anything.

“I’m not! I’m not supposed to be!” You exclaimed. “This cannot happen to me! If anyone finds out about my capacity for this, I won’t be useful anymore!” You were really getting worked up, frantically wiping at your eyes and cheeks with enough force to irritate your delicate skin, the wiping leaving red in its wake.

He grabbed your wrist to stop you from I hiring yourself in a fit of blind emotion. “Stop, stop, stop. That’s not true, you’ll have a place here, with m- with the Spider Society.” He stumbled, and through your emotional turbulence, you hadn’t caught it. Your eyes were screwed shut, willing the waterworks away.

“I’m the perfect being, Miguel. It’s what I was made for. If I can’t do what I was made for, then I am nothing.” You said, empty and solemn. Miguel swore he heard his heart crack. In a split second, you’d opened a portal to your dimension, ripping yourself away from the comfort of his arms, and diving into the Hell where you came from.

You never saw him reach out for you, too inside your own head.

A few days had passed since then, and you’d been dispatched on multiple missions given to you by your homeworld superiors, throwing yourself into your murderous tendencies. This was where you belonged. Through your time in the Spider Society, you’d come to realize you were no hero. You didn’t belong with them. You were a weapon of mass destruction, and you were extremely good at it. You were created for this. Crafted precisely and expertly. You weren’t created by the love of two people, rather the hatred your creators held and passed onto you.

You’d supposed the title of “weapon of mass destruction” lead you to this decision you planned on executing. That, and a few handsy targets along the way. You weren’t always meant to kill some of the other high profile criminals you came into contact with, instead gaining their trust through more romantic endeavors. Or rather, lustful. In the middle of the act, you’d wonder if Miguel would be more gentle. If he’d hold your face like he did when you’d almost died. If he’d praise you instead of degrade you like your targets did. If he’d care about how you felt in the middle of it all rather than just himself.

And now you were feeling angry. Huffing, you looked at the watch on your wrist. All of these people who’d used you, if they found out your capacity for human emotion, would kill you. If they didn’t, they’d continue to use you, and you knew you’d only get worse. If you ran, they’d give chase. You’d be followed over and over and over again. These feelings were a sickness.

So, you devised a plan.

Create an anomaly in your world. Make it unreachable for the Spider Society. Watch your world crumble - destroy it, destroy everything, as it’s in your nature.

And die along with it, so all will be right with the world.

-🕷️-

I’ve never written for Miguel before, but I hope someone enjoys this. ♥️

[cursedvibes]

tw // rape and sexual assault

-

-

-

Can I be honest about something. I feel like Kenjaku fans are really dishonest about their sexual assault and rape.

I know that they didn’t directly rape Choso’s mother themself, but they still orchestrated it and oversaw it and made sure the cursed spirit raped her.

And then there’s Kaori. Is it not rape to have sex in a dead person’s corpse? She couldn’t consent to having her body used like that. It’s rape. And if you try to defend this and say that her body wasn’t hers anymore…that’s beyond vile.

I’m not saying that Kenjaku fans can’t like them or think they’re an interesting character or whatever. But I think it’s deeply harmful that I’ve seen so many of you insist that they’re not a rapist. Too many of you are like “hehe my criminal wife who commits all the crimes XD” and if you’re going to like a character who’s a rapist, could you at least not talk about them like that?

I mean, I can understand being uncomfortable with that and with what Kenjaku did, that's what you're supposed to feel after all. I also don't think Kenjaku fans have the obligation to bring up every single one of their crimes every time we talk about them, even if it's light-hearted. I talked about Kenjaku being a rapist before here and for the most part still agree with what I said there. While from what we know, the way the mother was impregnated wasn't sexual, I can understand calling it rape. It's like if someone was inseminated with a syringe against their will. Technically not sexual, still a violation of the body and reproductive autonomy.

So yes, what they did to the Death Painting mother is vile, so is them killing infants and and exploiting people's bodies in all kinds of ways. In case of Kaori I'm also heavily side-eyeing Jin's involvement there, especially after the reveal about his past. I don't particularly like it when some Kenjaku fans minimize what they did or say it didn't happen at all/excuse it in some other way, I honestly only see that very rarely though. Not nearly as much as people painting Sukuna as the perfect husband for example or him just being deeply misunderstood. Many Kenjaku fans are very much aware of their atrocities, just don't bring it up at every occasion because there's a lot more to talk about. What annoys me much more is people breaking all this down to redundant and tired "backshots" memes.

Still, I don't think all that prohibits you from making jokes about them in general like "my evil wife" etc. You have every right to be uncomfortable with that and I'd advise to block people who you think go too far, I do the same thing myself, but I think in itself it's not a bad thing. We're still talking about a fictional character here after all. As long as you don't lose sight of what they actually did (like I'm getting the impression with many of the backshots memes besides them often being very trans- and homophobic), I don't see the problem.

A lot of that has to do with how jjk engages with these things too. Like the Death Painting experiment isn't treated quite as lightly (and personally, I've never seen anyone joke about that specifically, but maybe I was lucky), but Kenjaku's treatment of Choso for example is and so fans see it as an opening to find the humor in a terrible situation. It's much harder to make jokes about Seiko from Blood on the Tracks, despite her having committed far lesser crimes than Kenjaku because the nature of the story is different. More realistic, you experience the horror of her abuse first-hand and the characters don't make a lot of jokes themselves either. There is much more of a comedic element to Kenjaku, they can be quite a quirky character, so people feel a lot more comfortable making jokes about them. Based on the target, severity and content I don't think that's bad, just a different way of engaging with the media.

When I write about the Death Painting experiment and from the perspective of the mother for example (in fanfic or just my blog), I usually draw upon experiences of rape recovery together with medical trauma. It's not for everyone, but for me, exploring this topic in the safe environment of fiction is interesting and in a way comforting. The horror of the infanticide, worming their way into the Itadori family, their whole relation with Yuuji, the Death Painting experiment is what got me so invested and keeps me invested in jjk in the first place. That's not everyone's reason for engaging with it or Kenjaku, just my perspective. And yeah, I do make jokes about them too because despite all that they can be funny. I mean, they literally just did a comedy show.

[mashawisotsky]

What You Need to Know about "Sound of Freedom"

A blockbuster seems to have come out of nowhere - but it hasn't. How a based-on-a-true-story movie shelved in 2018 has become a conspiracy touchstone.

TW: discussions of child sexual abuse, hysteria, and moral panic. A good summary may be found here. The bedrock There is currently a moral panic sweeping the United States. It had been building in crescendo for a number of years and this film shows the culmination of years of work - activists and politicians and concerned citizens rallying around a simple idea: children are a risk.

However, their concern is at best misplaced and at worst being used against them. It's not entirely wrong to be concerned about sexual abuse and the exploration of children. The numbers passed around appear terrifying. The English-speaking world has seen the growth of grassroots organizations like the UK's "pedo hunters" and the (popular in the 80s) Faye Yeager's Children's Underground. What are the numbers?

The film has grossed $40 million at the box office.

A report from the Counter-Trafficking Data Collaborative states that 67 percent of children trafficked are between the ages of 15 and 17 - while the film proposes that idea those trafficked are usually much younger. The 2020 Global Report on Trafficking in Persons shows that 50 per cent of detected victims in 2018 were trafficked for sexual exploitation, 38 per cent were exploited for forced labour, six per cent were subjected to forced criminal activity, while one per cent were coerced into begging and smaller numbers into forced marriages, organ removal, and other purposes. The detected forms of exploitation vary widely across different subregions. The share of detected victims trafficked for forced labour has steadily increased for more than a decade; most of these are boys.

The U.S. State Department has reported that traffickers transport 600,000 to 800,000 people across international borders each year, and less 50 percent of these victims are minors. Child trafficking victims often know and trust their traffickers, according to Teresa Huizar, CEO of the National Children's Alliance. Some victims are throwaway kids who are forced to trade sex for food and shelter, often with the trafficker calling themselves their boyfriend or girlfriend. Research shows that many child trafficking victims are LGBTQ or gender nonconforming youth who have been forced into the sex trade by someone close to them. The movie suggests that abductions occur more frequently in public places such as parking lots and playgrounds, and that young children are at a greater risk from strangers then people they know.

What is OUR? Operation Underground Railroad (OUR), founded in Utah in 2013, gained popularity on social media due to its focus on rescuing innocent children. It has gained attention from parenting groups, lifestyle influencers, and fitness enthusiasts due to its muscular approach. OUR says on its website and social media it has rescued and supported “thousands of survivors in 28 countries and 26 U.S. states,” including 3,000 around the world in 2019 alone. The charity’s annual report said it took in more than $21 million in donations for that year. They popularised raids of supposed trafficking by filming them and inviting journalists, influencers, and even Glenn Beck. What does a raid look like? Well, in 2014 a writer joined OUR on one of their raids. Here is an except:

Ballard and I are both Mormon... My dad, who loved my work, kept a few cards with my blog information in his wallet. [This is] how Ballard knew I was a writer.

When Ballard called, I didn’t ask many questions. I didn’t wonder why he thought it was appropriate for me—the writer of a mommy blog—to chronicle anti-trafficking work. At the time, I was a 28-year-old stay-at-home mother in Utah. I was lonely and grieving: My dad, my best friend, had died not long before. As I changed diapers, managed tantrums, and sat in the playground, I felt unmoored from my past and unsure about my future. I suppose, in my grief and my search for meaning, I wanted him to be called by God, because maybe that meant finally, I was too. ...

I was told Ballard’s team coordinated with local authorities who were too overwhelmed or ill-equipped to do this work on their own. Members of the OUR jump team found people willing to traffic kids and set up a date to “party” with however many kids they could provide, the more the better. The authorities were told where and when the party was happening. When they arrived, the girls would be sent outside, where I would be with them, while Ballard and the traffickers would stay inside. The police planned to wait outside until the OUR team had undercover footage of a trafficker accepting upfront cash for sex with the kids. After the cash changed hands, Ballard would give a signal, and the authorities would rush the house to make arrests. They would be armed.

The issue - expect note that OUR creates a demand for child sexual abuse victims where care is not provided and entrapment is common. In 2015 a tech-investor paid to fund a raid and streamed it live. Who is the man behind this? His name is Tim Ballard. As Operation Underground Railroad’s founder and president he sees this as his Godly mission to save the children.  

What happens to the children? Most of the children trafficked in OUR stings are first-time; meaning that OUR may create the demand for a crime it seeks to stamp out. OUR also promotes, there is little evidence of placement, a private adoption agency OUR also claims to run. Additionally, none of these children were kidnapped by strangers on the raid the writer attended - they were trafficked by family members or people they knew. What does trafficking really look like?

Young women between 15 and 18 are often lured by a man who promises romance but forces them to do sex work due to his control over their immigration status, legal documents, and threats of harming their family.

"In the U.S., immigrant women and children are particularly vulnerable to the deceptive and coercive tactics of traffickers," the ACLU has written, "because of their lower levels of education, inability to speak English, immigration status, and lack of familiarity with U.S. employment protections. Further, they are vulnerable because they often work in jobs that are hidden from the public view and unregulated by the government."

What is the "true story"? Well, in a word, it's not true at all.

The film's website acknowledged altering Ballard's biography and “took creative liberties in depicting the different methods of child trafficking.” The film's central plot point, that of a brother and sister lured to a photo shoot in Honduras, is not an event that Ballard has claimed actually happened. Ballard stated that "Some things are definitely overreported". He did not go into the jungle by himself to rescue a little girl nor did he kill a man to rescue the child. Operation Triple Take, an island rescue, saved both minors and adults from labor trafficking, with the film portraying victims as children. Ballard's team claimed to have rescued 123 individuals at two locations. Operation Triple Take accounted for 53 individuals.

How are people seeing for free? At the end of the film, there is a call to action. A QR code appears and promotes viewers to "pay it forward" pre-buying tickets so that others may see the vital message of the film for free.

You can buy bulk tickets at 50% off and encourage pay it forward - millions of tickets are bought without attending, pushing it up the Boxoffice.

Why was this film shelved in 2019? While online rumours say 2019 - the film was completed in 2018. It was shelved because it was produced by 20th Century Fox, which then was bought by Disney; when this occurred the project was shelved. Then the release was delayed by the pandemic.

Why does your mom/dad/grandparent/uncle know about this movie and not you?

It is being heavily marketed on Facebook and tictok by age, religious and political affiliation, and region. The key points are Christian, rural, and older - the average age of the viewer is above fifty and appears to be common among white, Black, and minority Christan groups.

Why is Ballad not CEO anymore?

After an internal investigation OUR Ballad stepped down in 2023. Aletter claims that an OUR employee who accompanied Ballard on an undercover operation abroad filed a complaint against him with OUR’s human resources department after the trip, and that a followup investigation culminated in his resignation.

The Producers Eduardo Verastegui, a Mexican soap opera actor and Catholic activist, has expressed interest in running for Mexico's 2024 presidential election. Support from deep right groups and Spanish deep and alt-right groups, including Vox, is viewed as an infiltration attempt by radical right-wing groups. Verastegui's hardcore homophobia and links to pedophilia have been criticized.

He is using the film to run a complex, multi-state presidential campaign over the summer. Jim Caviezel, as seen here, discusses the Sound of Freedom, transitioning from that to rescuing children from underground bunkers (DUMS) run by the elites, how the elites extract and consume adrenaline from terrorized children, and how these elites are in the entertainment industry and how "there will be no mercy for them."

Additional Resources The Boston Globe, 2023 "America's Summer of Fake Savours"

The Washinton Post, 2016, "Hunting for sex traffickers abroad by posing as johns"

Mormon Stories, 2020 "Investigating Tim Ballard and Operation Underground Railroad"

The Atlantic, 2021 "THE GREAT (FAKE) CHILD-SEX-TRAFFICKING EPIDEMIC"

Ministry Watch, 2023 "“Sound of Freedom” Doesn’t Tell True Story of Operation Underground Railroad" Salt Lake City Weekly, 2021 "UTAH'S OPERATION UNDERGROUND RAILROAD DONATIONS LOOK ODD."

FOX13 Salt Lake, 2020 "Anti-human trafficking group Operation Underground Railroad under criminal investigation by Utah prosecutor"

VICE, 2020 "A Famed Anti-Sex Trafficking Group Has a Problem With the Truth"

American Crime Journal, 2023 "OUR Quietly Exposes Tim Ballard’s Big Lie"

[kyglow]

open to: f/nb muse: miller thompson plot: ex owes me a lot of money and now the boss ( involved in crime and is the leader of a small criminal organisation ) has found you to collect the debt by exploiting you and filming it as a way for the debt to be repaid. tw: taboo, cheating, affair, voyeurism, blackmail.

" come on. hurry up and put that outfit on. quit wasting my time. " miller stated sternly. " i don't have all night. i have a wife waiting for me at home. " sounding impatient while eyes were fixated on the camera fixed on the tripod beside him. the lense pointing at the bed lit up with neon pink lighting to set the mood as she was to perform a dance originally but already his mind was slowly starting to shift into pounding himself into the individual who was meant to be his entertainment for the evening to which he had an ounce amount of pity for. music would play in the room a beat for her to move to. the older male then turned his neck with eyes directly now fixated on the woman.

a devilishly wicked smirk formed on his lips and a single eyebrow arched into a curve. " you know it's too bad your ex couldn't come down like a knight and swoop you up to save you from an old devil like me." he hunched forward while still seated with elbows resting on the top of his denim-covered thighs and briefly playfully pouted in her direction before lips curved into a smug smirk. " you know i only love it even more when you stare at me all hateful like with those cute innocent eyes of yours. it only gets me more excited even more if you talk back to me but i am not the one you should be aiming that fiery hate towards. " he snickered intentionally wanting to get a rise out of her.

[unwelcome-ozian]

TW: sex trafficking, child death

I've seen the phrase "disposable children" twice now in relation to elite sex trafficking rings or abuser networks. From endritualabuse.org/overcoming-coerced-perpetration/:

"I was not one of the abuser network’s so-called “disposable children” born “off the grid” and exploited and murdered by my abusers and other criminal networks like these. Tragically, the vulnerable and unprotected, such as orphaned refugee children, undocumented immigrants, runaways, sex workers, and homeless children, as well as teens and adults, go missing without anyone noticing or caring. Many are sex-trafficked or killed by criminal networks in rituals and snuff films."

I thought it might be good to bring to attention, since they're definitely victims of RAMCOA and meant to be hidden.

Thank you. It’s abhorrent. 

Adoption: Disposable Children

Why an AMBER Alert May Never Be Issued

Oz