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p0ltus · 1 month ago

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It's insane to me how people will still blame South for "overreacting" or "letting jealousy ruin her relationship with her brother" when Connie literally tells the audience The Director is intentionally pitting people against each other to stir the pot. Did you just not pay attention?

South wasn't "jealous" she was being intentionally and strategically punished while North was being favored and praised because THE DIRECTOR. IS. A. BAD. PERSON.

He is experimenting with these people. People like Wash and North don't understand that because they're the ones getting favored. Wash tells Connie she's "overreacting" and that "The Director is helping us!" because that's genuinely what he believes at that point in time. There's also a later clip of North talking to York where they DO start to question what's going on only AFTER evidence of internal corruption is thrown right in their face instead of being told to them second hand.

(I cant add more videos so ill transcribe my clips from here on out)

York: When the cops and the military started shooting at us, yeah, I find I just keep coming back to the same question in my head. Over and over again.

York: We're the good guys, right?

North: Of course we are!

York: You don't sound so sure of yourself.

North: No... No, I suppose I don't...

They only become aware of the problem when the problem is right in their face because The Director is manipulating all of them. Hes putting blinders on them. That's how situations like this work. Those who live comfortably won't understand the mistreatment of those below them because they're in a higher position. In this case, The Director has created an artificial hierarchy which separates and isolates the people he really wants to pick apart and fuck with.

The Director is intentionally doing this as CT says. He wants to drive a wedge between the "good" Freelancers and the "bad" Freelancers and part of that is making sure his top dogs don't see how their colleagues are being blatantly mistreated. If they knew, his little fucked up psychological experiment would backfire.

All of The Freelancers were victims in some way. Trying to say "South was just jealous!" or trying to imply North, York, or Wash had some kind of superiority complex proves you didn't pay attention. The Director was the puppet master. He played with The Freelancers like toys.

North and York don't start to question who's really in the right until proof of The Director's corruption is right in front of them. The cops and the military shooting at them is NOT GOOD. If they were really doing good, that wouldn't happen. They hadn't questioned it before this because as CT says in the previous clip, The Director is intentionally using and manipulating The Freelancers and cherrypicking what they get to know.

He's pitting people against each other. That's why the leader board exists. It's a way to make people hate each other. To create artificial hierarchy within his agents so they start to blame each other. Its to create a sense of competition and shame among these people depending on what number they’re at. Its a manipulation tactic. This includes doing things like treating the higher ranked agents better than those below. The Director treats people like CT and South like shit intentionally. Yes he paints it as a punishment for things like South being reckless at the beginning of season 9 but it's deeper than that. He demotes her on the leaderboard and berrates her in front of her colleagues to embarrass her. He is praying on her inferiority complex to see how she’ll react. Its all part of the experiment.

Wash, North, and Yorks obliviousness doesn't come from "having a superiority complex" it comes from the fact they're only seeing what The Director wants them to see. From the surface level treating these "worse" Freelancers more harsh seems normal, it's standard military procedure. But The Director isn't just criticizing them for not being "the best". Hes intentionally punishing them and embarrassing them in front of their peers so they start to hate the others. He is creating artificial rivalries. Only the people being affected by it notice which is why South and CT are so "mean." THEY’RE IN A LOSING GAME. THEY KNOW THEY WERE FUCKED FROM THE START. THERES NOTHING THEY CAN DO.

The Director treats the higher ranked Freelancers like he treats Alpha. He intentionally keeps them in the dark from what's really going on. Alpha only knows what The Director wants him to know. That's the same with his highest performing agents. When Alpha splits, his fragments are blatantly mistreated but he doesn't know that because The Director won't let him know that. The lower level Freelancers are also blatantly mistreated but the top rankers don't know that because The Director won't let them know that.

When the Freelancers are going to retrieve Connie's armor Connie literally tells Carolina "The Director is playing you, don't you see?" She tells Carolina to her face The Director is manipulating the agents and Carolina still can’t see that for herself because she is still under The Director’s thumb.

In ANOTHER clip where Tex watches the video CT left her along with the files, CT says:

CT: “I never could shake the feeling that something was wrong with the program. The secrets, the lies, the manipulation. Smoke. All of it obscuring a big damn fire.”

Here is when CT finally uses the word manipulation itself to describe what The Director is doing to them. Her metaphor about smoke is her way of explaining how The Director would keep them all in the dark in order to keep them obedient, but also to get them to distrust each other. Part of the goal of Project Freelancer is psychological experimentation. The Director is using these people like lab rats not just for his AI obsession, but also to study how these soldiers will cope/react when he tries to turn them against each other.

They are ALL victims. Its not “South is a bitch wah wah” or “North thinks hes better than his sister” or “CT only left because she knew she wasn’t good enough to be a freelancer”. They were being abused. ALL of them. The Director is an evil, sociopathic man who only cares about his own self gain and research. He just wants Allison back. He sees no value in the lives of his agents. It’d be nice if more people would realize that instead of doing the exact same thing The Director did and trying to paint one freelancer as worse or better than the other.

TLDR: Fuck that sad poo lookin cocksucker.

#saw a dogshit take on a reblog of my post so I had to get insane sorry #i literally rewatched all of project freelancer in one sitting to write this out #i hate the director. price isnt any better hes getting his own hate post later #rvb #red vs blue #project freelancer

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chessboredom · 4 months ago

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Hey hey! Yeah ive noticed when it comes to actual toxic shadowvanilla (or even closer to cannon) they dont get in depth of it. It feels like theres something MISSING! Ackkkkkkk i am a beliver of them being mutually toxic to each other (especially tr) If TR did for some reason truly became a cookie of decite, it would not end well for either of them! Think about it, shadow milk wants someone who understands BUT how he wants Pure vanilla to be a cookie of decite. And and shadow milk so caught up in his joy didnt even notice the cannon betryal, then take that and up it with truthless recules. Tr would 100% be lying for his own gain, probably notice shadowmilks emotional weakness and twist it like a KNIFE! The roles would be reversed! Shadowmilk is the puppet now, yet he doesnt KNOW it! So blinded by his loneiess, and the need to have someone to understand him! That he allowed himself be used (quite ironic if you think about it) cuz PV normally is not one to show his emotions in his sprites (other than his staff and well shadowmilk meddling) AND HE ISNT A OWO MAN!!! Sick of the owo man treatment! TR is that but UPPED!! A cookie of decite who doesnt express his emotions, able to twist it however he likes. Like i can see this as a Sm thinks hes the puppet master, while being the puppet. Tr lets him think that!!! Its easier to maulipate someone if they think their in control. Its MESSY! (I cannot put into words how messed up this situation would be) shadow milk you FOOL! Youve created your own MONSTER! One who sees you as a means to a end, a PUPPET. False fluff, fapse happiness, false LOVE! What TR gives you is a LIE and even if theres truth in it YOU DONT KNOW IT, YOU COUNDNT EVEN TELL WHEN HE PULL OFF A LIE! (In cannon) YOU are now in the web of lies of your own creation, Tr is your spider!! Anyway uh thats a little bit of what this dymatic makes me go crazy over (i have more ideas....)

ANON YOU FUCKKING GET IT OH MY GOOOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS REAL!!!!!!! I LOVE TOXIC YAOIIII!!!!

I'm gonna fucking yap about PV characterization (AGAIN.) (I just love him so fucking much.)

Very Long LONG post. XP

I'm so happy right now because you UNDERSTAND that PV isn't just some fucking UwU bean guy. Like, this is why he's so fucking good at being a leader because of his EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE and that he DOESN'T get caught up by his emotions and focuses on the problems even if it's stressful. Like a scene in Odyssey where Dark Cacao gets MAD when Clotted Cream had the idea of wanting the powers of the Soul Jam but Pure Vanilla remained calm as ever(And all of the sprites used this scene have his eyes open. He is SERIOUS.) Out of the WHOLE Ancients, despite his youthful, brighter amd unchanging appearance (and that's why his Korean Va is a girl to convey his youthfulness) he is the nost mature because he tries to Understand the situation and not diving head first. He isn't a warrior, but he is skilled involving emotions BUT he keeps DOUBTING himself at first like "I can't believe I did that! But I'd do anything for my friends to protect them."

AND THEN SHADOW MILK COOKIE COMES IN!!!! Omg Shadow Milk Cookie, DO NOT unlock the full potential of that Skill Pure Vanilla- I man Truthless Recluse has(Emotional Intelligence😇 LEVEL UP! ➡️ Emotional Manipulation😈) that he made you look stupid by making YOU think that YOU are the one IN CONTROL!

LOOK AT HOW HE DOES IT BY MAKING SMILK THINK HE'S IN CONTROL!!

En got "You and I... were meant to be together."❌️ The shadowvanilla shippers are really feeding on this line omg.

Kr got "I guess I have to accept you... Or become a part lf you."✅️ THAT'S WHAT I WANTED TO SEE!!!! EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION AT IT FINEST BAYBEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! MAKE HIM THINK HE'S THE ONE PULLING YOUR STRINGS WHEN YOU'VE ALREADY SLITHERED YOUR WAY THROUGH HIS MASK!!!! UUUGGHH SMILK YOU MADE HIM BETTER THAN YOUUU

That's why I kept mentioning that PV is KIND, and not Nice and he is pretty much capable of incredible violence. Does anyone even REMEMBER PV having enough seeing his friends suffer when he was the last one standing that he tries TO KILL DARK ENCHANTRESS?? He does a lot of things that involves he SACRIFICING HIMSELF in the process. UGHHH!! FUCK!! PURE VANILLA COOKIE IS NOT NICE!! HE WANTED TO KILL SHADOW MILK COOKIE!!! Remember the "Crash Out" scene? That's his true emotions having throwing a suprise party. He had ENOUGH. Then the scenery changes that made him remember that he wasn't supposed to be a violent person. He's an angel! 😇🙏 Silly Vanillyyy, why would you say "I'M GOING TO DESTROY YOU!!" that isn't like you at all!! [sarcasm](He is literally holding back the rage every single fucking day of his life.)

As much as people love to draw PV hugging Smilk closing to the end of the Ep, he literally beats him up and people seem to forget that over thinking PV is nice Uwu It doesn't have to be this way Shadow Milk Cookie. Meanwhile in the Korean version, Awakened PV had a dialogue that went, "I like helping people but I had enough of your shit Shadow Milk Cookie.☺️" Pure Vanilla Cookie said calmly. (Link to the video I made with this line.) And then made shooting stars of Truth descend from the sky to attack him. He did say he wanted Smilk to be his friend, but he wouldn't back down in a fight anymore. That's why his Awakened "Compassionate" or "Comprehender"(in Korean) form finally showing his real role that he is a MAGIC TYPE all along who has been disguised under the role of a HEALER.

Anyway TR ♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤ SMILK. TOXIC YAOI REAL!! Two Cookies of Deceit. One emotional and one empty. Smilk may be the best at psychological warfare and torture, but he got himself an emotional manipulator. Tr easily takes advantage of his emotions because he acts like a child!! Just give him what he wants then he'll be satisfied in no time. Take it away from him, he's gonna have his tantrums again.

Noe I couldn't add more tbh. You explained it well and all I could do is smash the TRUE over and over.

Even with my interpretation of canon that Tr won't last long with Smilk because of the Friendship Gang and "the universe couldn't allow this! One of you turn "good" now!", I like to think the toxicity still lives through Awakened PV since he's both Truth AND Deceit. Like a bright star from light years away that's actually dead, he could still act as of he were still TR to make Smilk more paranoid and obsessed with him in a more fucked up secretive way that other people wouldn't even notice because PV is already good! He wouldn't do evil things again, right? Hehe.

Also sharing this twt post of Tr ripping Smilk's eye as well. 🥰🥰🥰

https://x.com/41n4v15/status/1896085874628087843

#asks stuff #shadowvanilla #chess' analysis #shadow milk cookie #pure vanilla cookie #crk analysis

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literaryvein-reblogs · 1 month ago

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Do you have any superpower/theme ideas for villains?

Writing Ideas: Villain Superpowers & Themes

Complete Immortality - Control over one's own death, or major injury.

Energy Absorption - Considering how many heroes wield a great deal of strength and power, one of the best challenges to them is villains who can absorb their energy. The power to absorb energy has also featured in villains like the Lord Beyond the Void, Major Force, Absorbing Man, and hellish beings who can steal souls. Some villains have a dependency on the powers of other beings, which makes them effectively energy vampires — not to mention the likes of Galactus, who feed on entire worlds.

Intangibility - More commonly thought of as the ability to “walk through walls.” Intangible means “not capable of being touched.” (E.g., Loki from Marvel Comics)

Magic - Gives its users the power to do anything and the further one walks down the magical path, the more temptation they find. They say power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely, and magic can give its user that kind of strength. Most humans shouldn't be given the keys to the natural world, and even using their power in small ways to get their way can lead to becoming a monster. Magic users come in both moral alignments, but even the good ones know that the arcane is a possible road to darkness. Scarlet Witch is a perfect example; for many years, her connection to the elder god Chthon and the Darkhold drove her mad long before her reality-altering powers did. Then there's someone like Baron Mordo, who sees magic as a road to power.

Magnetism/Ferrokenesis - In everyday speech, magnetism often refers to “strong attractive power or charm.” But when it comes to superpowers, magnetism is the ability to use and manipulate magnetic phenomena. Complicated supervillain Magneto is the classic example of a mutant with this power. He is able to bend metal to his will.

Meta Power - Control over an opponent's abilities.

Mind Control - Control over an opponent's mind. It is a power that is basically impossible not to abuse. By its very nature, mind control violates consent. Even if a person started using it in seemingly benign ways - for example, making someone at a bank give them money - there are still consequences to it. Mind control makes people look like puppets to the person with the power, and that's an attitude that would lead anyone to villainy.

Omniscience - Allows someone to know everything. In the real world that would drive anyone crazy. Intelligent people often lose touch with the people around them and knowing everything, all the time, would be even worse. Eventually, that kind of knowledge would bring madness.

People Puppets - Control over an opponent's body.

Reality Warper - Control over reality itself.

Shape-Shifting - This has allowed villains to spy on their worst enemies, steal secrets, and divide relationships. Many villainous powers are a reflection of negative traits, so it makes complete sense that the highest form of deception would be a common power among bad guys. Shape-shifting can make for some brilliant detective stories, as well as a genuine way for villains to infiltrate superhero teams and divide from within.

Space Master - Control over space itself.

Superintelligence - Allows one to feel like a god, and for some people that feeling is addictive. Lex Luthor is a perfect example. Luthor could easily save the world, but he instead chooses to try to destroy Superman. The ability to create anything, to solve any problem can drive any normal person to evil. Suddenly, problems just become things to solve and the fastest way to solve them is often the best, no matter what it costs others.

Time Master - Control over time itself.

Touch of Death - Control over death itself.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

You can find more in the sources. Hope this helps with your writing!

#villain #writing ideas #superpowers #fantasy #writeblr #literature #writing reference #dark academia #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #light academia #writing inspiration #writing resources

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saltyfilmmajor · 27 days ago

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I clearly wasn’t paying attention to the plot because this did not play out the way that I thought

Chapter 12 of Trimax: taking my boyfriend home for the first time even though we’re still in a fight

#see I thought this was gonna be like the anime #and in a sense it was with the one guy that gives me the Heebie Jeebies the puppet master #I was trying to make a joke about Nico dreaming about home and then being brought to Vash’s home even thought they’re having like #A MASSIVE FIGHT #Wolfwood: This motherfucker Ain’t Human 😬😧#which is also extremely funny because like:#Vash Voice: By the way you never told me. How do you know Knives’ name #I need to yell about this manga it’s so good #Nicholas d Wolfwood my beloved

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akikohanasaki · 3 months ago

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Yandere!Eltingville club towards a new member

Josh – The Aggressive Golden Boy

Josh was never chill. Let’s be real. He's loud, arrogant, competitive—and when he doesn't win, he explodes.

The second you join the club and he realizes you’re clever, passionate, and stunningly unpredictable, it hits him like a truck. You’re everything he’s not used to—but suddenly needs.

He becomes possessive instantly.

Laughing at someone else’s joke? He’ll interrupt.

Sitting near Pete? He’ll scoff, mock Pete to his face.

“Careful, he might talk you to death with one of his rulebooks.”

Says it like a joke. Doesn’t laugh.

And when he realizes the others like you too?

Rage. Pure, primal, rage.

He slams fists on tables, starts muttering under his breath during meetings. He becomes paranoid. If you’re not talking to him, he assumes it’s because someone turned you against him.

He throws insults to mask his jealousy.

“Don’t let Jerry talk you into one of his stupid fanfics. Guy thinks he’s some tortured poet when he’s just sad and greasy.”

He needs to be the one you choose.

Because if he’s not, then he’s a loser—and Josh can’t handle losing. Not even emotionally. Definitely not romantically.

He starts plotting ways to "win" you.

You’re a prize to him.

But one he’s starting to think he’d rather burn everything down for than see in anyone else’s arms.

---

Pete – The Controlling Tyrant

Pete’s not smooth. He’s tactical.

Everything you do, everything you say—it gets stored. Not in a sweet “he remembers my favorite flower” way. No. In a “he could write a CIA dossier on your habits” kind of way.

He sees you as a system to control, a variable to manage.

He starts finding ways to isolate you—“casual” hangouts where no one else is invited.

“Josh is a brute. Jerry’s unstable. Bill’s a sociopath. I’m the only one who’s consistent. Logical. I could actually be good for you.”

He talks down about the others constantly, slipping it into conversation like poison.

He tries to “fix” you when you’re feeling chaotic.

“You wouldn’t feel so overwhelmed if you’d let someone help you. Me, specifically.”

He becomes calculating, coldly manipulative—but panics when you’re not reacting the way he expected.

He tries to emotionally gaslight you.

“I’m just trying to protect you from people who’ll use you.”

He’ll never admit he’s in love.

But he acts like you’re already his.

Like your independence is a flaw.

Like letting anyone else get close to you is a betrayal.

And when you smile at Jerry?

When you laugh at Bill’s joke?

He clenches his teeth so hard his gums bleed.

---

Jerry – The Self-Pitying Obsessive

Jerry isn’t innocent. He’s just soaked in self-hatred and idealization.

He turns you into a fantasy. The girl who “gets” him. The only person who’s ever looked at him without mocking him.

He starts writing entire zines about you. He draws you over and over again in sketchbooks he hides under his bed.

He says nothing to you at first, just stares with puppy eyes. But it builds.

You’re too perfect.

And when he sees you joke around with Josh or sit close to Pete?

It breaks him.

He spirals into crying fits, punching walls, then writing twisted poems in his notebook:

“She wore metal like armor, but she’ll never be mine. Her light is wasted on monsters.”

He becomes self-loathing and manipulative in his own way. He tells you how lonely he is. How no one understands him but you. How he thinks about you when things get “too dark.”

And when you gently try to set a boundary? He makes you feel like the villain.

“Of course. Why would anyone want me.”

You didn’t reject him yet.

But the idea of it?

It makes his hands shake with quiet, repressed fury.

And he starts thinking… if you won’t love him…

maybe he’ll write a version of you who does.

---

Bill – The Cold-Blooded Control Freak

Bill is the scariest.

Because he never raises his voice.

He never lashes out.

He just… acts.

He becomes the puppet master behind the scenes. The moment he sees the others falling for you, he makes mental notes of every weak spot.

He starts monitoring your conversations. He listens without being seen. He memorizes your routes, your routine.

He has plans.

He starts subtly feeding lies.

He tells Pete you think he’s too overbearing.

Tells Jerry that you and Josh laughed at his comic behind his back.

Tells Josh that you said he was “aggressive and weird.”

None of it’s true.

But it works.

He isolates you—without you even realizing it.

Then steps in like the “only one you can trust.”

“They’re using you. You know that, right? You’re better than this club. Better than them.”

He never says he loves you.

He says you’re a project worth protecting.

You’re interesting. Different.

And no one else deserves you.

He watches the club begin to rot from the inside, smirking behind his glasses.

Let them burn each other to the ground.

He’ll collect the ashes—and build something just for you and him.

---

Oof- I did it. Kinda took me a while but it was fun writing them. Hope you liked it (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

#eltingville club #yandere #josh levy #bill dickey #pete dinunzio #jerry stokes #>:3

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kookygranger · 1 year ago

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Top five, most memorable kisses of all time

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Corroded Coffin move to Chicago and find their people. Eddie finds you behind the counter at Championship Records. He thinks you're cool. You think he's gorgeous. Life outside of Hawkins might just be worth fighting for.

Warnings: swearing, kissing (obvs), fluff, fem!reader, mostly Eddie's POV, our boy has no rizz, alcohol consumption, I don't think anything else, too many high fidelity references?

Word count: 4k

Author's note: This is a one-shot, that has been sitting in my drafts since last Halloween and thanks to a wip game has finally seen the light of day! Find the playlist that inspired the fic below.

Masterlist

One pill makes you larger,

And one pill makes you small

The bell above the door jingles as Eddie steps through the threshold, his shoulders relaxing as the warmth seeps back into him and he scans the racks of records before him. Perking up as he notices the music playing over the speakers, he was still getting used to how much cooler things were in Chicago than back home – and shit, how much cooler people were.

Eddie clocks you sitting on top of the counter with one leg crossed under you, the other swinging down the side as you sticker a stack of vinyl. You mouth along with the music, not even noticing him slip through the aisles as he stops in a random section with a perfect view of you across the small store.

He’d only come in here to kill some time between soundcheck and the gig tonight at a venue down the street. The rest of the band had gone to find some food, but Eddie wanted to check out the record store they passed on the drive in. And boy, was he glad he did.

He mindlessly flicks through the records in front of him, trying to come up with a good conversation starter. It wasn’t that often that he missed Steve Harrington, but he could sure use one of the boy’s famous pep talks right about now. Fuck, what was it about pretty girls that got him so tongue-tied? Probably the pretty part.

But you weren’t just pretty, you were obviously very cool, and he certainly wasn’t used to girls sharing the same interests as him – but he’d met a lot of them since he’d moved to Chicago a couple of months ago.

Just as he’s thinking about what albums he could pick out to impress you, the bell above the door jingles again. A guy around his age walks in, his short hair spiked, nose and ears pierced and tattoos peeking out from a crisp white t-shirt. He walks with confidence to where you sit and makes you jump slightly as he greets you boisterously.

“Shit, you scared me.”

He snickers and starts rummaging through a crate of cassettes by the counter.

“Yeah, you look like you were in the zone. Did you even notice you had a customer?”

You turn your head in Eddie’s direction just as he ducks his down, continuing to flick through the disco section. Wait, shit where’s the metal?

“Shit.” You whisper under your breath and turn your attention back to the other guy, not quite lowering your voice enough so Eddie couldn’t eavesdrop. “No, but in my defence this song is a banger.”

Severin, Severin, speak so slightly

Severin, down on your bended knee

“What the fuck are you listening to anyway?”

“I made a pre-Halloween mix. Music that led to goth before goth was a thing.” You frown as you try to unstick a bright red sticker from the price gun you’d been tapping on the pile of vinyl.

Eddie smiles to himself as he continues to pretend he’s browsing and not tuning into your conversation.

“Are you coming to The Allied tonight? There’s some new band from Indiana or something playing. Apparently, they do a sick cover of Master of Puppets.”

Eddie pauses in his faux perusing for a second as he awaits your reply.

“I wasn’t really planning on it, no.”

The guy huffs, “No? What was your plan, going home to sulk to The Velvet Underground?”

“I don’t sulk–“

“You do when you listen to The Velvet Underground.”

“What do you want me to do? Pogo to Heroin? Anyway, I was gonna work on an article actually.”

“Why don’t you write about this band tonight? Tim says they’re pretty good. He saw them a couple of weeks ago at the Metro.”

“Tim said that about that god-awful noise band that played at De Salle’s. It was the worst four hours of my life. I thought my ears were actually going to bleed.”

“Whatever, you say that like you’re not currently playing the most depressing German synth music that nobody in their right mind would listen to.” He points his hand in the air, drawing your attention to the new song playing from the speakers behind you.

“First of all, this is David Bowie’s Low. And if you knew as much about music as you claim to, you’d know that this was his seminal work in his Berlin era and an ambient soundscape masterpiece. Secondly–“

“I like it.”

Both of your heads shoot up at Eddie’s interruption. He blushes and clears his throat as you catch his eye and the corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry, I just–it’s a good mixtape. I like the theme.” He frowns and shakes his head at himself, he doesn’t know what came over him. Who is this guy that’s bothering you, anyway? You have amazing taste and he’s now sure you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. You gesture in his direction and look back at the guy that’s teasing you.

“The customer is always right, Simon.”

Eddie moves quickly to the B section and finds the album you were talking about before heading over to you.

“Did you find everything you need?” You smile at him sweetly as you hop off the counter and take the record from him. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked before. Customer service isn’t exactly my strongest skill.”

The guy, Simon, snorts. Eddie can’t take his eyes off the way your face lights up quietly when you realise what album he picked.

“What are your strongest skills?” That was such a weird question Munson, what the hell?

You look up at him a little taken aback, before a small smile creeps up on you.

“Talking about music…or” you shake your head in contemplation, “writing about it actually.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Maybe it’s not so much a skill, more like an obsession.”

“She’s actually kind of good.” Simon butts in with a shrug and you roll your eyes.

“Such a high compliment cuz.”

You were cousins. He still had a shot.

“You write for magazines?”

“Zines mostly,” you point to a stack of xeroxed pamphlets on the counter, “but I’ve published a few reviews with Spin and The Face.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, “That’s pretty cool.”

You breathe out a laugh and take the cash he hands you, collecting his change. “Thanks.”

“Wait, you're Eddie, right?” He turns to Simon, almost forgetting he was there. “Your band’s playing at The Allied tonight? I met your drummer Gareth at a show last week.”

“Uh yeah, that’s me. We’re called Corroded Coffin.”

“Cool name.” You smirk and hand him his record wrapped in paper. Eddie tucks it under his arm, his dimples showing as he smiles back at you.

“Thanks.”

“You’re from Indiana then?” You call back to Simon’s earlier statement, as Eddie doesn’t make a move to immediately leave.

He rubs the back of his neck as he nods, “Yeah. Just moved here a couple of months ago with my band.”

“Welcome to Chicago, Eddie.” You smile and introduce yourself, “Let me know if there’s ever anything I can do for you…vinyl wise I mean.”

“Thanks,” he scratches the stubble on his jaw before stepping away from the counter. “Maybe I’ll see you tonight at the show?” He tries to keep his voice casual, but there’s a hint of hope in there.

You bite your lip and shrug, “Yeah, maybe you will.”

Eddie nods and takes his queue to leave, the bell jingling again as he steps back out into the cold.

“Yeah, maybe you will.” Simon mocks you in a breathy imitation and you roll your eyes. “So now that you know the singer is cute are you coming?”

“Obviously! You better get me on the door list, or I swear to god I’m telling Aunt Carol about the stash in your underwear drawer.”

***

“Hey, Carlos.” You greet your friend at the door of The Allied, who waves you in without payment. “That Darondo record came in, I put it aside for you.” You call back on your way in, hearing a muffled thanks as the music from inside hits your eardrums.

There’s a decent crowd tonight, and you have to push past a few people to reach the sticky top bar.

“Oh, she showed up! Surprise, surprise.” Simon makes his way over to you, ignoring the calls of indignance as he passes other customers. He slings a rag over his shoulder, which makes you bite your lip, attempting to hold in a laugh, remembering how he’d practised that move in the mirror when he turned twenty-one and landed the second most coveted job of your teenage selves.

You shrug nonchalantly, despite your cousin knowing the exact reason you’re here. “I ended up doing inventory ‘till late. Thought I may as well drop by before catching the L.”

Simon flicks your nose, your retaliating slap missing him as he moves to pour your drink. You thank him with a forced smile when he slides it across the bar, picking it up and turning to find a spot in the crowd.

“No tip?”

You call over your shoulder, “Yeah, take it easy on the cologne.” You smirk, not even having to turn around to know he’s probably sniffing his shirt.

You take your usual spot leaning against the wall, up the back and away from most of the crowd. Your rule was front row or back. None of that squished in the middle, view blocked by the tallest guy you’d ever seen crap. Either it was front and centre, immersed in the moment, or your own space with a view of it all.

You’d never be up front for a band you didn’t know, and tonight was no exception, no matter how large the butterflies in your stomach at the prospect of seeing him again.

You don’t know what it was about Eddie, apart from the obvious fact that he was gorgeous. Maybe it was something in his presence. But when he walked up to the counter earlier with a record you’d just been talking about and a shy smile on his face – you were a goner.

The murmurs of the crowd quieten when the house lights are switched off, a yellow glow on the stage and above the bar now the only sources of light.

There are a few enthusiastic cheers when the band appear from a door behind the stage and a smattering of applause as they take their place. You take a sip of your drink, ignoring the feeling in your chest when Eddie steps up to the mic and adjusts his red Warlock guitar. He smiles and you duck your head, trying not to look too much like the girl who’s just fallen for a lead singer when he addresses the crowd.

“Evening. Hope you brought your earplugs, this one’s new.” The quiet, reservedness of his introduction and the boy you’d met earlier is undone with the first crashing of cymbals and thrash of power chords.

Stage Eddie isn’t what you were expecting, but still somehow makes total sense. He’s more comfortable, more himself up there as he thrashes back and forth, hair whipping wildly. And they’re good. Really good.

Maybe you’d write about them after all.

The band are almost through their set when he spots you. Your back straightens as his eyes lock onto yours. Normally you hate making eye contact with someone on stage, but you can’t seem to look away when his chocolate-brown gaze twinkles over the heads of the rest of the crowd. In between songs, he gives you a wave, and you nod, returning his small smile.

When they finish, you move back to the bar. Waiting for the lingering fans to clear over a rum and coke. You’re only on your second sip when you feel a burning hot presence behind you.

“You made it.”

You turn around, and Eddie leans an arm on the bar beside you, moving in closer as the growing line pushes him forward.

“I did.” You nod, taking another sip of your drink.

He clears his throat, pushing his sweaty bangs away from his forehead.

“So, uh, what did you think?”

You smile, “I think you’re going to fit in very well here.”

“I hope that’s a good thing,” he chuckles.

“Oh, it is. You’re one of us now. Welcome to the dark side, Eddie.”

His eyebrows raise, the ghost of a smirk kicking up when you’re interrupted by your cousin.

“Man, that was sick! What can I get ya?”

Eddie thanks Simon, then looks back at you, “What are you having?” He holds up two fingers when you answer, signalling for another round, then starts playing with a beermat while you wait. Your eyes are trained to the glint of silver on his fingers.

“How are you liking Chicago so far?”

Eddie looks back at you and puffs his cheeks up as he exhales. “Honestly?... I didn’t know life could be this good.”

You feel a sharp tingling in your nose as your eyes well up a little for the boy standing in front of you, his cheeks dusted with pink as he tries to hold back a smile.

“Trust me, things are only gonna get better from here.”

“Yeah?” He beams at you then and you inhale deeply as you fight the urge to reach out and wrap your arms around him.

“Yeah.”

***

Eddie had seen you a few times since the gig at The Allied. Dropping into the record store when he could. In small crowds at gigs in the city. You’d greet him with a hug or a squeeze to the arm that never failed to get his heart rate going.

Today, he’d gotten off early from his temporary new gig at the auto shop and he found himself parked outside the record store.

It was overcast, but there was no bite to the air. A balmy wind tousling his hair as he ran across the street to the hole-in-the-wall coffee shop, avoiding the fat drops of rain that had begun to fall sporadically.

He spots you through the window when he makes his back to the store, bobbing your head along to whatever’s playing as you fill the racks. The now familiar bell jingles and he smiles when he recognises Joy Division over the speakers. He’d seen you in their shirt on more than one occasion.

He meets you as you're walking back to the counter.

“Oh, hey Eddie.” You smile and do a double take, taking in his greasy coveralls, and suddenly he’s wishing he’d gone home and showered. Even if it was an hour out of his way.

“Hey.” He places a coffee on the counter along with a white paper bag. “Thought you might like a mid-afternoon pick me up. I’ve uh, I’ve seen you with one of those cinnamon things before.”

Your eyes light up as you inspect the inside of the bag. “Oh my god, you’re my hero! Thank you, that’s so sweet.”

He shrugs, taking a step back from the counter, his own black coffee still clutched in his hands.

“So, this is the day job then huh?” You gesture to his outfit.

He scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah for now. Until the music starts paying off. If the music starts paying off.”

You nod, taking a bite of your cinnamon scroll and he can’t help but smirk at the way your eyes quickly roll to the back of your head. “It will.”

His free hand goes to his pocket, face hidden slightly by his hair as he tucks into himself at your confident statement.

“Thanks.” He turns around to start perusing the aisles.

“Oh, we will be getting the new Metallica album on the day of release by the way. I’ll put a tape aside for you.”

“Thank you.” He offers you a smile over his shoulder, and you tip your coffee to him.

He takes his time flicking through the rows, a few customers coming and going as he does, although he knows exactly what he’s looking for. Once the store is quiet again, he walks back over to you, selection in hand.

“Lee Hazelwood?” You take the record from him with a look of surprise.

He nods, “Yeah, I liked that song on that pre-goth mixtape you gave me. It’s like the kind of thing my uncle would listen to but…”

“Sinister.”

“Yeah.”

You smile, “It’s cool isn’t it? You know he actually wrote These Boots Are Made For Walkin’. Helped save Nancy Sinatra’s career after the teeny-bopper thing didn’t work out. They made a couple of albums together actually, and you know the first time he retired from the music industry was because the success of The Beatles’ made him depressed.”

He leans his arms on the counter as you talk. “Wow, you really are a wealth of knowledge for this stuff huh?”

You shrug, “What else is there?”

“Apart from books.”

You nod, “Good movies.”

He smiles, “Pizza.”

“Dumplings.”

“DnD”

You frown, “That nerdy board game?”

“No, uh d–dumplings like you said, and uh– dough–doughnuts?”

You scrunch up your face, “Okay,” and giggle at Eddie’s strained smile.

“So uh, what–would you–“ Not screwing this up at all Munson. “Would you maybe wanna do that together sometime? The pizza and dumplings, or probably one or the other I guess, and a movie, good music–“ he blows out a puff of air, scrunching up his face.

“Are you asking if I wanna go see a movie?”

“Yes,” he nods enthusiastically, “that and dinner. If you want.”

“I do like both those things.” You smile. “How about Thursday? I finish closing up at six.”

“Yeah. Cool. Thursday sounds good.” The guys and their weekly standing appointment for band practice would not agree.

***

Thursday rolls around faster than Eddie’s prepared for. Predictably, his bandmates all made fun of him for cancelling practice for you. But he just ignored the high-pitched ooohs and went to make sure his lucky Sabbath shirt was washed before he needed it.

He’s wearing it now as he paces outside the movie theatre, twisting his rings, oblivious to you sneaking up behind him until it’s too late.

“Boo!”

“Jesus Christ.” He jumps and twists around, your hands that had reached out to scare him still on his hips, his arms float in the air for a second before landing on your shoulders.

“You’re on edge,” you tease before your face sets a little more seriously. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, just uh, you wanna head in? It starts in like five minutes.”

You nod, your hands leaving his waist as his fall back to his sides. “What are we seeing anyway?” You look up at the black lettering above you, smiling just as Eddie reveals your viewing choice for the night.

“Thought we could see Young Frankenstein. Saw they were doing an old-school horror weekend here in the paper.”

“That sounds great.”

He lets out a breath of relief when you bump his shoulder affectionately, and you begin walking into the theatre side by side.

“Now the real important question Eddie Munson. What are your go-to movie snacks?”

His hand twitches when it accidentally brushes the back of yours.

“Well, popcorn obviously.”

“Obviously.” You nod.

“Sour Patch Kids and you gotta add a packet of Reese’s Pieces in there too.”

“Wait, in there as in–?”

“In the popcorn bucket. All of it. Like a good version of a trail mix.”

You grin, “Very interesting.”

“Just wait till you try it, sweetheart, you’ll never do it any other way.”

You laugh, “Okay, lead the way.”

He bows, gesturing his hand towards the confection stand. “After you m’lady.”

Your giggle, Eddie quickly finds out is his new favourite sound. When it appears again in the movie theatre, he can’t seem to keep his eyes on Gene Wilder, only watching you light up with laughter.

He can’t quite believe how well it’s all going. That is until you’re sharing a large pepperoni, on the bench outside the place you insisted served the best “pies” in all of Chicago, and your confusion stops his heart for a second.

He groans when he takes the first bite of cheesy dough.

“Good right?”

He nods, chewing and swallowing quickly. “My uncle told me pizza wasn’t a first date kind of meal, but we don’t have anything like this back in Hawkins.”

You’re sitting so close that he notices you still right away.

“Wait, this is a date?”

“Oh,” he swears his heart drops to his stomach as he sees the surprise on your face. “Oh well, yeah I thought it was but I guess I–it doesn’t have to be, sorry.”

You reach out to grab his arm when he instinctively moves away, “No! I just didn’t realise you were asking me out, out. You kinda just kept listing food.” He scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “I want it to be a date.”

He bites his lip, looking back at you with eyebrows raised, “Really?”

“Yes,” you laugh, squeezing the arm still in your hold. “Of course. I would love to…be on a date with you right now.”

He beams, “Well, it’s your lucky night sweetheart.”

***

The date (once it’s established as one), goes so well Eddie finds himself back at your apartment, admiring your wall lined with records while you find the both of you a drink.

His eyebrows marry together when he notices Dusty Springfield next to the Sex Pistols.

“What’s the system here?” You hand him a beer when you reappear by his side. “Not by genre?”

“No. Autobiographical.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“How–?”

“Well,” you step forward, reaching out to pick a plastic sleeve as if from memory, “if I want to find the song Landslide by Fleetwood Mac, I have to remember that I bought it for someone in the fall of 1983 but didn’t give it to them…for personal reasons.” You show him the white cover of the album.

“That sounds…”

“Comforting.”

He nods slowly, “Yes.”

“It is.”

God, you’re weird. And cute. And cool. And, shit he was going for it, you said you wanted to be on a date with him. You invited him back to your place. No one’s ever done that before. He should go for it. He’s going for it–

Your lips feel even softer than he imagined, and he can’t help but give himself a mental high-five when you immediately move closer to him, face melting into the hand that cradles your cheek. You taste almost vanilla-y with the combo of rum and coke still sitting on your tongue when his meets yours. He places his beer down on the coffee table, and your lips follow him when he has to dip down slightly before his free hand comes to sit on your waist.

You part for a breath, “Didn’t realise vinyl categorisation would get you so hot.” You tease him, lips plump and eyes slightly glazed over, and he’s never wanted anything more in his life than to keep you looking at him like this.

“Yeah uh, really love that Dewey Decimal system.” He leans close to capture your lips again, but you pull back, leaving him to chase you.

“The Dewey Decimal system is for books.” You shake your head.

Eddie huffs, “I really don’t care.” He finally finds your lips again and he swears they taste even sweeter the second time, despite being tainted by his own.

You guide him back to slowly sit on the couch, bodies falling a little clumsily together before you situate yourself in his lap, legs straddling his. You both stay like that for what could be hours for all Eddie cares, lips clicking in the silence.

“Fuck, I could kiss you all night.” He leans his forehead against yours, heavy breathing synced with your own, as you finally come up for air.

You shake your head, eyes soft and reassuring.

“I’m not going anywhere, Eddie.”

God dammit, is he glad he left Hawkins.

Tagging: @storiesbyrhi (I hope you like the coffee shop across from the record store 😉), @bettyfrommars (I finished it!)

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #she writes #Spotify

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macbethsymphony · 1 year ago

Text

Negotiations

Dracule Mihawk x Reader

wc: 5.2 k

tw: NSFW, 18+, this is just pure filth guys, it's 5k of smut, there's no plot. Edging, overstimulation, slightly dubcon, fingering, Mihawk has the hyperfocus of a god? this is highly toxic and slightly unethical ngl

Summary: The tale of how a negotiator convinced the marine hunter to consider becoming a warlord.

AO3

Eat, drink, nap, kill marines, drink some more, sleep, and repeat. That was the unvarying routine of Dracule Mihawk, marine hunter. At least, that’s what he’d been up to, these past two months.

Marine hunter. What a fucking joke. Marine killer was more accurate. The man was deranged, his actions driven by an insidious boredom that turned slaughter into a twisted game. It was painfully obvious that he was merely toying with the Marines, savoring the macabre sport, desperately looking for someone who would match his skills. If you had your way, you’d be plotting his demise instead. Though you supposed if you were here, it meant they’d all failed.

Tsuru’s words echoed in your mind, firm and unyielding: “I trust you are able to bring him to the table,” she had said. “You are our best negotiator, after all.”

So, you grit your teeth and set the scene. For in no world was disappointment an option; failing your superiors, especially Tsuru, was unthinkable.

Your officers were meticulously positioned, the bar’s usual faces replaced by those of disguised operatives. Only a few of the establishment's staff remained. A strategic decision to ensure the venue’s operations ran smoothly without drawing suspicion. The air was thick with tension, and you were acutely aware that the slightest misstep could unravel the entire thing. The possibility of disaster loomed large; a single error could transform this carefully orchestrated meeting into a chaotic bloodbath, with no chance of containing Mihawk’s whims.

Your heart pounded with an almost unbearable intensity, a drumbeat of anxiety and anticipation. You reminded yourself that your team were experts, each one adept at their role, and that every detail had been rehearsed to perfection. You could do this. You would succeed where all others had failed.

The door to the bar creaked open, drawing your attention as you smoothly transitioned into your assigned role. “Whiskey, neat, please,” you requested from the bartender, your eyes never leaving the imposing figure in the corner. “Actually, I’ll take the whole bottle.”

You watched with a tight-lipped smile as Mihawk, with deliberate nonchalance, made his way behind the bar. He selected two bottles of fine wine, his movements leisurely, and then settled into his usual spot, a booth in the corner, away from everyone. A fleeting, almost imperceptible smirk played on his lips as he uncorked one of the bottles and poured himself a glass. Your breath caught, a shiver of doubt sliding through you, but you forced yourself to look again.

Good.

It was nothing more than a trick of the light.

You downed your glass, slamming it with a bit too much force on the bar counter.

Everything was falling into place. You had him where you wanted him; all you needed to do was stick to the script. You adjusted your dress, the provocative cut emphasizing every curve. Confidence surged through you. You knew how to handle men like him. This would be no different.

You approached him, whiskey bottle in hand, your movements practiced and deliberate. “Hello, handsome,” you purred, your voice a silky caress. He would be putty in your hands before long.

But as his gaze locked with yours, the air between you seemed to thicken. The intensity of his stare left you breathless, feeling strangely vulnerable. The mastery you usually wielded over people faltered. You couldn’t decipher him, couldn’t read him. At all.

This was not how it was supposed to go.

Fuck.

You were always in control, always able to manipulate the situation with ease. You were the master and they the puppets. The fact that Mihawk’s inscrutable expression was completely impenetrable threw you off balance.

You were already committed, though. Backing out now was not an option.

“Mind if I sit?” you asked, voice dropping to a husky whisper. You allowed your fingers to trail delicately along his shoulder and then drift over the exposed skin of his chest. Your gaze flickered to the other banquette, the seat occupied by the bulk of his massive sword, back to him. The invitation in your eyes was unmistakable.

For a moment, you thought you glimpsed a spark of amusement in his gaze, but it was so fleeting that you couldn’t be sure. Mihawk tilted his head slightly, the feather on his hat accentuating the movement with a languid grace.

“Be my guest,” he said, his tone flat and devoid of emotion.

He made no move to shift from his position, no move to shift the position of his sword. You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to maintain composure. The arrangement was deliberate—there was no easy way for you to sit without essentially stepping over him and trapping yourself between him and the wall.

He was toying with you, you realized with a flicker of frustration. But if he wanted a game, you were more than capable of playing along. You were a master of your craft after all. With a deliberate motion, you took the third, more unexpected option. You straddled him, the hem of your already short dress rising even higher as your legs settled to his side.

You held his gaze steadily as you sipped from the whiskey bottle, slamming it behind you with a practiced flourish once you were done.

His gaze didn’t shift as he drank in your form, lingering on your curves, then back to your features. You did the same, taking him in, the sharpness of his jaw, the solidity of his muscles. You’d already known he was handsome, hours of looking at pictures had told you that, but by the gods above he was almost ethereal. You prayed for a moment that the heat you felt was from the alcohol you just downed. But you knew it wasn’t.

“Bold.” The word snapped you out of your thoughts. “For a marine that is.”

Your spine went cold at the statement.

He knew.

Of course, he knew.

But you were still alive, which meant he was still willing to entertain this scene.

It’d been a power play you realized a touch too late. He’d just flipped the script you had so carefully prepared.

Interesting.

Absolutely thrilling.

You hadn’t expected that he’d be a worthy opponent and you’d let him earn the first point in your carelessness. It didn’t matter, however, you could easily recover from such a small blunder.

You leaned in closer, your breath mingling with his as you whispered, “Boldness is often rewarded, don’t you think, marine hunter?” Your fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the marble-like skin, the uneven rhythm hoping to distract in its randomness.

Mihawk’s gaze darkened, his eyes flicking down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “Rewards come in many forms,” his voice was a seductive drawl. “Some more satisfying than others.”

You stopped the patterns, nails digging tenderly into hard muscles as you traveled down.

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, the sound low and inviting. “Well, I do aim to satisfy.” You pursed your lips, emphasizing the word. Your fingers continued their path, slipping to rest on his belt buckle, playing with the metal. “But satisfaction is a two-way street. What would it take to make you happy, Mihawk?”

His hand moved, a distracting caress tracing up your thigh, stopping right under the hem of your dress. The touch was electrifying, sending a shiver down your spine. “Happiness is a fleeting emotion,” he said, his eyes boring into yours. His fingers roamed back down, nails digging softly in the plush skin, mirroring your previous actions. “I prefer something more... enduring.”

Fuck.

He was good.

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. “And what might that be?”

He smirked, a predatory gleam taking over the amber hues of his eyes. “Isn’t that your job to figure out, little marine?”

You bit your lip trying to come back. He wasn’t just good, he was almost your match. You could feel the unbridled heat of desire starting to swirl through your veins at the challenge. “I’m very good at my job,” you whispered, your voice dripping with insinuations as you leaned closer, your lips a hair’s breadth away. “I’m sure I can find a way to please you.”

Mihawk’s fingers traveled back up your thigh, right past the hem of your dress, dug in before the curve of your rear, the pressure a mix of pleasure and pain. “I wasn’t aware, the marines sent whores to negotiate their deals.” He looked down at you, a sneer nearly breaking his lips.

You felt a sliver of satisfaction. He’d almost cracked. Soooo, he had standards. He didn’t like things too easy, did he? You could play with that.

You laughed, your hands roaming up, palms flat against his chest. You traced the sharpness of his jaw. “Oh no.” You brought the tips of your fingers to his lips. “I’m not here to whore myself out. But if it brings you to the table, I’m sure I can find the sweetest cunt on the grand line for you.”

His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing through them as he considered your words. You were suddenly reminded of how he held every card, how you were at the mercy of his every caprice. You only happened to hold his attention for now, only happened to entertain him enough for him to let you and your squadron live. He was THE marine hunter. It didn’t matter if every officer in the establishment were to pull their weapons out and point at him. He’d be fine and you’d all be dead. The tension between you crackled like a storm about to break, every touch and every word a loaded gun.

“What a tempting offer,” he finally said, his voice a low purr that sent your heart racing in more ways than one. “But I find that I prefer a more... personal touch.”

To punctuate his point his hand reached further, against the curve of your ass, before coming back and digging in your hip, pressing you down to him. You almost moaned, every fiber of your being fighting the primal urges that strained to be free. You let out a silent gasp instead. This was going too far, getting out of your grasp. A mistake. An admission of your desires. You were slipping more by the moment. You moved your hand up, giving the signal for everyone to vacate. You’d have to do this alone, you wouldn’t risk so many lives on your inability to handle one man.

Mihawk noticed the subtle movement of your hand, his eyebrow arching with curiosity and a hint of amusement. “Calling off your dogs, are you? Either you’re very confident or very foolish,” he commented, his tone teasing yet edged with something sharper.

You felt a touch of annoyance prick at the edge of your mind. He was rubbing it in. Toying with you, trying to tease out reactions. Even though you felt anything but confident, you flashed a daring smile, the tension between you sparking with the undercurrent of unsaid words.

You resumed your mindless patterns on his chest, slowly getting lower and lower. "Let's just say I would rather handle the finer details of these negotiations with more privacy. Make room for more... satisfying outcomes."

His fingers continued their dance along your side, dipping dangerously close to forbidden territory. Mihawk's smirk deepened as he seemed to see right through you, fixed right on your uncertainty. You felt yourself flailing, felt yourself losing your composure.

“Privacy can certainly be... conducive to more fruitful negotiations,” he murmured, a dark caress relishing on the hold he held on you. He leaned in, reaching for his glass of wine. He took a slow sip, watching the gears turn in your head before putting it back behind you. “So what is it you want?” He asked, his hand grabbing to your chin, moving your head side to side with an appraising look, making you look at him.

You took a steadying breath, leaning into his touch, playing along with his game. “Oh not much,” You cooed, hand reaching his at your face, splaying it along your cheek, brushing your lips on his palm. ”I’ve only been instructed to get you to the negotiation table, nothing more, nothing less.” You dragged his hand down, spreading it along your throat bringing it over your heart. “I’m sure I could at the very least get you to consider it?”

It all happened too fast. You heard the sound of glass shattering on the floor before you registered the change in perspective. The hold he had over your throat was harsh as he pinned you down to the table, the remnants of the wine pooling in the tile like spilled blood.

“You think you can just waltz in and sway me with a few promises, like a common man?” There was something nearing disappointment in his tone and you realized you’d messed up. You’d been too hasty, too forward, he had been hoping to play longer. “How about this little marine, show me how badly you need me to do what you need and if you’re entertaining enough, I might consider it.”

The shift in Mihawk’s demeanor was almost terrifying in its intensity, and you struggled to keep your composure as his grip tightened on your throat. Your mind raced, trying to find a way to turn the situation back in your favor. The room was deathly silent in its emptiness, the tension palpable and if it wasn’t for the stiffness of his crotch against yours you’d think you’d lost all of your cards.

It might just get you killed but you arched your back beneath him, pressing into him. Your thighs trembled at his side as you struggled for breath but still, your hands grasped at his over your throat, pushing him further against you, cutting your airflow almost completely. If he wanted a show, then you’d give him one he’d remember until his last moments on earth.

Mihawk’s grip on your throat tightened for a second and you thought for an instant that this was it, that the underworld awaited you. But before darkness could cloud your eyes he loosened it, his gaze glinting with a mixture of curiosity and dark amusement. You could feel the rapid beat of your heart echoing in your ears as you gasped for breath, your whole body shaking beneath his. The room seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment, every sense heightened.

“You’re quite the performer,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that only served to enhance the heat building between your legs. “But I’m not easily swayed by theatrics. Show me something real.”

You swallowed hard, your throat still aching from his grip, but you forced a smile. “Real, you say?” You let your hands glide away from his wrist, trailed your curves, and slipped the straps of your dress off from your shoulders, revealing more skin and black lace. “I can do real.”

Mihawk’s eyes darkened with interest, his gaze tracing the path of your hands as they moved. He released his grip on your throat, his fingers now trailing down to your collarbone, leaving a searing embers in their wake. The intensity in his stare was almost overwhelming, and you knew you had to find a way to keep control of the situation, even if it felt like you were barely holding on.

You grasped his hand, guiding it along your bare skin, to the plushness of your breast. “What is it you truly desire, Mihawk? Power? Control? Or perhaps something more... visceral?” You practically moaned out the words.

His hand lingered on the lace, pushing it aside, fingers tracing lazy circles. The air between you was electric, charged with unspoken promises and the underlying tension of a predator toying with its prey. This was a delicate game. You let out a soft moan, arching your back further, pressing yourself against him, rolling your hips.

A smirk broke on his lips as he saw right through your little performance. He knew exactly what game you were playing, and it was clear he was enjoying every moment of it. His hand moved with deliberate slowness, tracing the curve of your breast, his touch a maddening mix of gentle and firm. The control you sought seemed to slip further from your grasp with each passing second.

“And what do you propose, little marine?”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. “I propose we make this interesting. A game, if you will. You test my… resolve, and I test yours. We both get what we want.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “A game, you say? And what are the stakes?”

You bit your lip, your hand guiding his lower, your fingers ushering his along the dripping lace of your underwear. “If I can prove my worth to you, you agree to come to the negotiation table. If I fail...” You paused, letting the weight of the words hang between you. “If I fail, you can do with me as you please.”

He pushed aside the ruined fabric, the pads of his fingers meeting your slick before dipping inside. “You’re playing a dangerous game, little marine.” His smirk widened as a moan escaped you. “What makes you think I can’t just take what I want?”

The words hung in the air, thick with implication. You felt the intensity of his gaze boring into you, the heat from his touch searing into your skin. As though to emphasize his point, his thumb found your clit, tracing slow, deliberate circles, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through your body, mewls you tried to muffle out of your lips.

You swallowed hard, your breath coming in ragged gasps. “You could,” you admitted, your hand wrapping around his wrist as he moved his fingers in a come-hither motion, pressing all those delightfully right spots. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, fingers trembling, nails digging into him as a wave of ecstasy washed over you. You struggled to come back, half-lidded eyes meeting his. “But I’m sure I can make it much, much more entertaining for you if you decide to play along.”

His eyes flickered with a mixture of amusement and dark curiosity. “You certainly know how to make an offer enticing.” He leaned in close, his breath touching your lips. “But from where I’m standing you’re already breaking.”

He was right, you were so close to falling apart under him. "Am I not to your pleasing?" You asked, voice trembling against his. You reached up and discarded his hat, your fingers seeking to tangle in his hair. “Am I not entertaining enough for you, marine hunter?”

He chuckled, his lips brushing over yours. His fingers continued their tantalizing exploration, pushing you closer to the edge with each deliberate movement. He was testing you, pushing your limits to see how far you could go. And yet, despite the overwhelming intensity, you were determined to hold your ground.

“You are quite pleasing,” he admitted, his voice was thick with lust and its intensity almost sent you over. “But I wonder, how much more can you take before you beg for mercy?”

You bit your lip, a mixture of defiance and desire burning in your eyes. “I don’t beg, Mihawk. That’s what makes it interesting.”

His smirk widened, his fingers pressing deeper, eliciting another soft moan from you. “Bold words, little marine. Very bold indeed. Let’s see if that’s true.”

His lips met yours, slow and teasing, a dance of dominance and submission, a battle for control, a negotiation of its own. He moved against you with a practiced precision, each movement calculated to draw out your reactions. You could feel the intensity of his desire, the raw power behind each touch.

You were close. So fucking close.

You swore under your breath as he suddenly stopped.

“I wonder what will make you break the fastest.” Satisfaction was evident in his voice as he felt you flutter around his fingers. “Denial or pleasure?”

Your breath hitched at Mihawk's words, the sensation of his fingers lingering just out of reach driving you to the edge of your sanity. This was a dangerous game, one where you had to balance the razor's edge between control and surrender. If… if you managed to hold out long enough… even he couldn’t resist lust forever.

You couldn't let him see just how close you were to breaking.

Drawing on every ounce of willpower, you forced a sly smile. Your hands left his hair and traced down his chest. "Why not try both and find out?"

He interrupted their path as you reached his belt. Deftly he brought them over your head, his weight pinning you entirely in place as he started moving his fingers again. His eyes gleamed as he looked down at you, relishing the arch of your body against his, relishing your struggle.

He leaned close, his breath hot against your ear. "Now, now,” he tutted at you. “You can’t just skip ahead. Let's see how long you can endure."

Before you could respond, his lips descended on yours again, demanding and possessive. The kiss was bruising, filled with the same intensity that characterized every touch and word between you. His fingers made you see stars, their exploration agonizingly slow, teasing you mercilessly, never quite giving you what you needed.

You moaned into his mouth, bucked against his hand, your every instinct overtaken by a desperate need for release. The tension between you was unbearable, every nerve ending screaming for more.

He stopped and started again and again and again, until you struggled with your breath and your whole body quivered and sang to each of his demands.

Mihawk's lips left yours, trailing down your jawline to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that almost made you lose your mind. "You're holding up better than I expected," he murmured against your skin, biting softly on your exposed nipple before soothing it with his tongue.

You barely managed a breathless laugh, closer to sobs than anything. "I told you, Mihawk. I don't break easily."

He chuckled, a sound that was both dark and amused. "We'll see about that."

His fingers moved with a different purpose now, driving you closer and closer to the edge, fast and hard. You could feel the tension coiling within you, the impending release just out of reach. And still, he held you there, teetering on the brink, refusing to let you fall.

It was maddening, the way he controlled you so effortlessly, drawing out every ounce of pleasure and frustration until you thought you might lose your mind. And yet, you couldn't help but crave more and he couldn’t help but to push you further, to see just how far you could go before you finally shattered.

"Please," you whispered, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

You felt his smile against your skin. “There we go,” he drawled out the words. “The little marine knows how to beg after all.”

With a sudden, devastating precision, he drove you over the edge, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm to bring you to the peak of ecstasy. You cried out, your body convulsing with the force of your release, your muscles straining against his hold.

As you came back to reality, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you gasping at the sudden loss. He brought his hand to your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. “Taste your resolve, little marine.”

You opened your mouth, taking his fingers in, your tongue swirling around them, tasting the remnants of your desire. The act was a surrender and he watched you with contentment, his gaze victorious.

“Good girl,” his voice was a satisfied purr, one that made your mind feel fuzzy and your body hot. “Now let’s see how well you break under pleasure.”

His hands moved to your hips, his grip firm as he repositioned you with ease, brought you closer to the edge of the table. You felt some of your slick cooled by time, seep into the fabric of your dress, against your lower back as he pulled you over the puddle of arousal that had been slowly gathering on the wooden top.

His movements were deliberate, calculated, his eyes never leaving yours as he took off his belt, the leather sliding through the loops with a whispering sound. He eyed it for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his lips before his attention came back to you.

“Will you be a good?” His tone was threatening. “Or do I have to restrain you again?”

You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat. The challenge was unmistakable. “I can be good,” you whispered, your voice hoarse but it sounded unconvincing, even to your ears. The thought of being powerless under his hold once again was somehow unbearable.

Mihawk’s smile widened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I don’t think you can, little marine.”

With a swift motion, he looped the belt around your wrists, pulling it tight enough to restrain but not to hurt. The leather bit into your skin, the sensation unnerving.

”You’re just waiting for a chance to turn the tables, aren’t you?”

You quirked your head to the side, a hint of defiance shining through. “Can you blame me?” He let go of your hands and you made no effort to keep them up, letting them drop to your stomach. “It’s not fair if you hold ALL the cards.”

“Fairness is a luxury, little marine.” His hands moved to your thighs, pushing them apart with a firm, insistent pressure. “A luxury one can rarely indulge in when playing to win.”

He paused for a moment, his gaze raking over your form, something you couldn’t decipher spreading on his features, an intensity you’d only ever seen on wild animals.

“I must admit, you’re quite the sight.” His fingers traced the edge of your underwear. With a swift motion, he tore the delicate fabric away, leaving you completely exposed. “But I think you’ll be much more entertaining once broken.”

Your breath caught in your throat in a small hiccup, the threat in his words not escaping you. Your eyes stood at a standstill as he deliberately slowly undid his pants.

His cock met your heat, gathering your slick and the soft pressure on your oversensitive clit made you want to twist and buck beneath him. He brought one of your already trembling legs over his shoulder, his hand roaming up and down in a soothing touch.

You felt his tip at your entrance, the slow delightful stretch as he entered you in a tortuously unhurried advance. Your entire body reacted to the sensation, you arched beneath him, your eyes fluttering close, your wrists strained against your bindings desperate to hold unto something, anything to ground you. The pleasure was intense, almost overwhelming and as he met your cervix you couldn’t help the sharp cry that escaped your lips, nor the tears gathering in your eyes.

“You’re so tight, little marine,” Mihawk chuckled, taking in every detail of the moment and searing it in his mind. “So responsive. I can feel you clenching around me, trying to hold on.”

His movements were controlled, each thrust calculated to draw out your reactions, to push you closer to the edge. You wouldn’t beg. You wouldn’t cry for mercy. You were so close. Each drag of his cock against your fluttering walls was heavenly. The room seemed to fade away, the only thing that mattered was the sensation of him inside you.

You could feel the dam within you beginning to crack and then his hand found your clit once more and your breath stopped. It was too much. You came around him with a desperate gasp.

He didn’t stop, his thrusts still perfectly controlled. You knew the overstimulation was coming but it didn’t prepare you for the moment it washed over you. Your eyes shot open and makeup blurred tears stained your cheeks. You fought as though it was a matter of life or death. It was too much. Too fucking much. But his hands held you firmly in place, unable to escape his relentless assault.

And then a second orgasm rippled through your veins, blinding and even more intense than the first.

But he still didn’t stop. Your cries stuck at the back of your throat, sobs wreaking your body.

“Please,” you couldn’t help but beg again and again, your limbs so taut beneath him it was painful.

As his laugh hit your ears, you realized he didn’t care. Realized he was having fun. Your body twisted violently beneath him, too harsh for him to control and he let out an annoyed click of his tongue before flipping you over, the edge of the table digging hard into your hips as he entered you again.

“Mercy,” you pleaded, wrists straining so intensely against your bindings that you knew you’d be nursing those red marks for days.

“Already?” His hand kneaded your ass roughly, pushing you even more painfully against the wooden top. “How disappointing, little marine.” His touch snaked up along your spine and tangled forcefully in your hair, keeping you pinned down and struggling against his hold. “I’m just getting started.” He punctuated his statement with an especially sharp movement of his hips.

Your legs kicked in the air as another orgasm rippled through you, and you felt your arousal drip down your thigh and your drool seep out of your redded lips.

The world was careening around you and you couldn’t breathe and waves of pleasure washed over you so fast that your mind couldn’t keep up anymore. You eventually went slack beneath him, your entire body surrendering, and only then did his rhythm start to falter.

He turned you back around, and you didn’t struggle, fully pliant for him. His fingers found your lips, played with the spit on your tongue, kept your mouth open as he reached closer to his own release.

“Mercy,” you begged one last time, your words muffled, your lips wrapping against his fingers.

And he smiled, a predatory, victorious smile and you couldn’t help but think he looked ethereal in this moment. His hips stuttered one once more, his seed hot inside you and you clenched around him, white blurring your vision for the umpteenth time.

He slowly pulled out, his gaze dropping to your entrance, watching his cum dribble out with a lust-blown stare. Your whole body still shook in the aftermath, your breath scattered and you spasmed at the feeling, a last vestige of submission as you whimpered.

His fingers left your mouth and almost tenderly wiped your tear-stained cheek, brushing strands of hair that had been plastered on your sweat-covered skin behind your ear. His gaze stayed on you, considering.

“You’ve been more interesting than I expected,” He admitted as he pulled back up his pants. “Very well, I’ll consider your offer on one condition.” He gently unraveled his belt, his hand lingering on your wrists and you gave a sharp hiss of pain he seemed to drink in with delight.

“And that is?” you asked, your voice sounding far away, not your own.

He lazily passed the leather back in the belt loops, put back on his hat, making you wait.

“You’re the one who handles the negotiations. Just you and I. No one else.”

A slow smile of victory made its way to your lips.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

Masterlist

Might consider making a part 2, but don't hold me to that.

#one piece x reader #one piece smut #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #mihawk x you #mihawk smut #mihawk x y/n #charlou writes

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omartinyosef · 1 year ago

Text

ST5 POTENTIAL SPOILERS!!!

GUYS I FOUND THIS ON REDDIT AND ACTUALLY IT'S QUITE INTERESTING

ST5 Leaks/Fleaks

Gen Plot

Season picks up briefly where we left off in 1986 before jumping into either late 1987 or early 1988. The season is contained entirely in apocalyptic Hawkins. Things with the government are shaky. Owens doesn't appear in the beginning of the season and it's unclear if he's returning, but Ellen Stinson is the new Owens. Hawkins is like a combination of the UD and Kamchatka.

Labyrinths/Mazes being important to both the supernatural plot and the interpersonal relationships. They're inherently linked.

Two songs to be featured are 'Listen to Your Heart' and 'Alone,' both of which were apparently foreshadowed in a previous conversation between Hopper and Joyce, similar to how Hopper's "I'm the puppet, you're the master" to Joyce in S3 basically foreshadowed Eddie's 'Master of Puppets' in S4.

S1 and 2 scenes being referenced are "Nancy and Mike's conversation in the bathtub" and "Hopper + Lando Calrissian"

Lots of importance in COLOR CODING and blocking from the final shot of S4, and a good chunk is told in the costuming—like passing the torch from one character to another as their arcs overlap. For example, Hopper and Will share the "am I the curse and therefore putting my loved ones at risk by being near them?" sentiment for S5, therefore their wardrobe in the final shot of S4 is similar. Joyce/Jonathan and Nancy/Mike's costuming also similar for the same reason, whereas Eleven stands out because she's the first one coming into her own this season. The white for her represents shedding of false skins.

Character duos this season will be primarily dressed in colors of blue/green and yellow/red.

There's lots of symbolism and foreshadowing for every character in S5 from the moment Will touches his neck in the last sequence of S4.

S4 focused on themes of lies and miscommunication, and everyone is going to have to work through these lies before they can defeat Vecna.

Murray and Argyle are both back. Dimitri and Yuri don't seem to be in the beginning of the season.

One thing left unresolved with the Russian plot. Something important will happen involving the machine and the green liquid from the Starcourt bunker. Reference of Dustin vowing to die with Steve when they initially discovered it.

Hopper, Joyce, Mike, Will, and El had to be away from Hawkins, otherwise Vecna wouldn't have won.

An important death that they're nervous about given the reception to Eddie (not Joyce or Jonathan—see details below).

Eleven

We'll see her unlike we've seen her before. A badass who doesn't take shit from anyone. Not a Monster, not a Hero, Jane. Think: adult El could be headed for a Charles Xavier type role.

Erica, Lucas, and El will share scenes together.

El has significant blocking and development with many characters this season.

Max, Eleven & Max

The "kaleidoscope of colors" from a script the writers posted makes a feature in both the scene where young El remembers her mother's love in order to defeat Henry in the lab, as well as the scene where El revives Max. This is significant because it's the first time we see El using her powers on someone in a non-violent way.

El was able to revive Max because of she, herself, being revived in the bunker by Brenner and Co. It's a show, don't tell moment from the writers.

Max getting Vecna'd was foreshadowed in the beginning of 2x01.

Will, Henry/Vecna, The UD

Filming was supposed to commence mid-June, but Noah and Jamie were set to begin in May due to more complicated costuming. Will is going to require heavy prosthetics at some point.

Will's character design is blocked in three stages. The more the UD bleeds into Hawkins, the more connected to it he feels. The gates being open will physically influence him, especially when he's not as mentally strong.

He's kind of like "the card up Vecna's sleeve."

It appears they want to confuse the audience about Will.

Will wrestling with his own morality

Henry/Will mirrors. Will will sympathize with Henry because, unlike El, he knows how and what Henry thinks, and he can feel him.

Vecna and Will are very similar, but the difference is Will is made stronger by love not hate. They will play into that duality.

Vecna was nerfed in S4 compared to how we see him in S5. He'll be much stronger.

At the beginning, he'll be taking a hiatus while he plans how to divide and conquer now that everyone's back together in Hawkins.

Soteria will be the key to saving Will. If they want Will to be untraceable to Henry, they'll have to insert it into his neck and it'll be painful. Vecna not having access to Will fucks up his ability to leave the UD.

Byler/Mileven Triangle

Apparently, it's complicated and up in the air as of now.

Mike dealing with guilt this season. He feels guilty/responsibility for El. He feels stuck in a loop that keeps him from a truth he's scared to face.

Will and Mike to spend a good chunk of the season together based on character designs and blocking.

Will telling El that Mike won't like being lied to comes back with the painting. During a pre-time jump scene in 5x01, while everyone's together plotting how to defeat Vecna and brainstorming how to save Max, Mike brings up the painting El commissioned for a D&D analogy. Will has to pull Mike aside and confess he lied about El commissioning the painting. Mike gets angry, because he doesn't know about Will's feelings and feels embarrassed that Will thought he was that pathetic he needed to be given a pep talk. Their own version of a "fight you can't come back from." Immediately after their fight, we get the time skip.

Mike's character motivations are unclear and seem to be kept under wraps. After the time jump, he and El won't be talking as much because he's keeping the details about Will's painting from her. She's gonna ask what's wrong between him and Will, and he lies/is very vague.

Joyce, Hopper, Jopper

Joyce feels immense guilt/responsible over Bob's death since she's the one that asked him to help in S2, which is why she pushed Hopper away at first.

Hopper has a secret from S1 that was never addressed, and it comes back to haunt him.

Joyce sustains an injury in S5 that is reminiscent of the way someone was injured in S3, but it isn't critical and she'll be okay.

Jopper are the most established couple after the time jump. Lots of bickering still, but Hopper trusts Joyce more than he ever has.

Jonathan, Nancy, Jancy

So far, does not seem like a breakup is happening.

Jonathan's still lying about the college letter and distant because of it, and Nancy thinks he's not as into the relationship and that there might be someone else. She confronts him, which leads to a talk. She's touched by the lengths he would go to try and protect her and any of their future children even from himself.

A moment where we're led to believe Jonathan dies but doesn't, like Hopper in S3.

Hopper-Byers Family

These five characters slowly unraveling their arcs together and have always been closely linked. Their perfect endings are together.

We see the family combining, especially in relation to El.

Joyce gets to witness Hopper being paternal and tender towards the boys.

Scenes with Joyce, Jonathan, and Will

Hopper being back lifts a weight off Jonathan's shoulders.

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

So, now time to shine.

''(...) sentiment for S5, therefore their wardrobe in the final shot of S4 is similar. Joyce/Jonathan and Nancy/Mike's costuming also similar for the same reason, (...)''

Okay. How did we see Nancy in S4? Confused. Confused with the love triangle between Jonathan, her and Steve. Jonathan is her actual boyfriend. And Steve is her posible love interest again.

So, putting this in byler language: Nancy = Mike Jonathan = Eleven Will = Steve

If Mike's and Nancy's character's clothing is important at this point of the time line and that means they feel similar feelings, this could mean that byler has a chance. BUT then we read this: ''(...) He (Mike) feels stuck in a loop that keeps him from a truth he's scared to face.'' And

''Mike's character motivations are unclear and seem to be kept under wraps.''

THIS LITERALLY MEANS BYLER. FOR REAL. Like byler could be endgame. Also, remember Eleven's injury in S3? Do you remember the leak of a shoe covered in blood?

It's Joyce. ALSO YOU CAN READ THAT WE'LL HAVE SCENES BEFORE THE TIME JUMP. And here it comes. Look at this freaking hair:

Does this look more like this

or this?

The season 4 bowl cut right? So maybe this is right in some part? I dont know. But that could make sense why Will is wearing Mike's pants, because his clothes were in California by that moment. But i really do think that the pic that was leaked a few days ago is before the time jump.

Im so late with this info haha :) but i kinda think some things here make sense. Even if this is too well explained to be a leak.

#stranger things s5 #st5 spoilers #stranger things 5 #st5 #stranger things #st5 speculation #st5 leaks #st5 production #will byers #stranger things season 5 #will byers is gay #byler tumblr #william byers #byler is endgame #byler endgame #byler nation #byler #mike wheeler is gay

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avaredava · 23 days ago

Text

"Wish we never met, Mr. Nanami Kento."

☆*:..｡. .｡.:*☆

Master list's

Part one | Part two

(read part one first to have it make sense)

⯌Sum

Trophy wife, is basically no life. Sometimes you wish for the way Nanami fell in love with you stayed that way. Or maybe just never met him at all.

⯌ Wc

4.2k

⯌ Warnings

a lot of angst, comfort for reader YAY, reader lowkey is a total baddie in the end, other stuff but i don't wanna spoil what happens to much lollll, some suggestive with gojo, GOJO Y'ALL GOJO, gojo and reader get into a established relationship towards the end, nanami hits reader and hurts her a bunch of times, VIOLENCE GUYS, i love my king nanami but in this WE HATE HIM IN THIS, not gonna spoil more guys... slow burn kinda

a/n: when i was writing nanami in this i thought of trump ya'll... also i might be combining part one and two, if you want that just comment.

☆*:..｡. .｡.:*☆

Why? Why the ever living shit did this happen. He played you like a puppet.

Like a nobody.

Like a piece of meat.

At this point you were a pitiful piece of flesh. Flesh, not a person. Absolutely pathetic. Nothing more than a trophy, a thing to be held in a case, never being allowed to be let out. Never breaking free.

For pictures, for representation of a happy marriage in a political view.

Something to be used to be a hue of arranged colours is now a tang in the mud. Nothing. Something that deserves to be ground up into nothing and not built back up. To stay buried in your head, in a deep crumpled despair in your head. Head aches and a creature meant to be despondent.

To be around everyone but to be alone in your own head. Being confined in your own mind. Being forced to smile or laugh for the cameras but pray that no one knows how much you weep and cry at home.

Behind walls ripping your heart out, reading about happy marriages then looking at people wanting your place. To be with him. To be with the man who doesn't want to be with you but needs you for your own benefit. The woman in this equation is nothing. You made love to him.

You lost your virginity to him because you loved him. The intimate moments the two of you bring back good memories then remind you that it would never happen again.

Maybe you wanted it again, but maybe you didn't. The way he broke your heart was unforgivable but you still loved him so much. The way he used to smile at you and hold you close on cold nights. Acting like you were the only girl in the world. Emphasis on act.

But the act stole your heart. Made you want it again. Made you crave it.

Made you want him in your arms, like it used to be. Kiss him on his lips in the warm sheets, of the night before still lingering in the air. The warmth of his chest makes it all better, the intimacy.

You want it but you absolutely fucking hate it.

You want it but you know you don't.

You decided to hop in the shower, scrubbing your body but it reminded you of how Nanami used to caress your body in the shower, making you clean from his clean hands. You never knew they were dirty.

You never knew they had blood on his hands, wrapped in silk but are gross and cruel. Silk that rubbed your face when sad but then helped someone else.

Gentle kisses and that were on someone else's body mere hours from when it happened to you. Used, discarded that's all you were. No meaning in this world other than to be smiling for cameras and to give an heir.

You didn't want to give and heir. You didn't want to see his fucking dick, you didn't want him at all. You want the old him. The one who loved you.

You decided to make tea to bring it to him. Maybe he would be nicer this week instead of fully ignoring you unless during meetings and conferences acting like nothing happening, holding your hand and kissing your cheek, like he wasnt with another woman a few hours ago.

Holding her the same way, even if it was just for sex. It still hurts in its own singular way that you can't explain. It's more the manipulation that hurts.

You were his wife yet you were the other woman.

You were supposed to be there for him for public finances and to bear an heir. Even though you don't even want to have sex with him, sex is for love and commitment, and passion for one another.

You don't even want kids.

Today you were sitting at a meeting on his right hand side chiming in with a "yeah" or a nod every once and a while like instructed by his lawyer. So you did so. Listen to every command, while Nanami was yelling his head off at the opposing companies head, Satoru Gojo, who was perfectly calm.

You couldn't smile or laugh at the gentle composed face of the man across from you who was trying to laugh at your husbands annoying antics. It was funny watching the man Nanami complained about through out your marriage be not that bad.

Nanami used to come home to see you on the couch and plop beside you grumbling about how much he hates a guy named Satoru Gojo because he took his employees.

You hated Satoru as well from what Nanami was saying but you understand why his employees left. He sucked, while Satoru Gojo was mature, maybe a goof but he could run a company without any flaws.

And Nanami was a dick, constantly lowering wages when things got rough because he scared off the investors from being too rude. God he was a narcissist, he thought there was nothing wrong with it.

You loved him, in his own cruel world he loved you too. That's what he tells you, or what you think. You don't know if he ever loved you in the first place. He didn't understand how much this affects you, your life. He just cared about himself in his own mental weird way.

You smile at Satoru after being in your short thinking trance for a second, him smiling back as Nanami slaps your thigh under the table, making the employee beside him almost say something but Nanami gave him a gross look then he stayed quiet.

You tried not to cry because it hurt, you looked down at your lower thigh where he hit below the edge of the dress, it was red and turning a little purple. Satoru instantly stopped when he saw your eyes tear up. He went back to talking about the payments going through the system.

After the meeting was done Nanami grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the meeting room in the Gojo company building. You walked down the hall with Nanami in front holding on to your hand with a bruising grip.

He clicks the elevator button and pushes you hard against the wall beside the buttons, your eyes widening in fear. He's been violent today, and you're scared. He pushes his knee against the already bruising harsh slap mark, holding your neck. "You think it's fun being a fucking slut?" His eyes darkened as your eyes teared up.

Gojo was cleaning up the mess Nanami made letting his workers go home, so he was just walking back to his office when he saw you trying not to cry. He went up to you two and smiled, and more made his presence known. Almost like: "I'm here, don't try anything more."

Nanami scoffed and let go of you, so you gave a little nod to Gojo. A small moment of relief for the hours of trouble at home. Gojo wanted to do something, take you away from that asshole to help you.

But he knew he couldn't. You were the literal enemy's wife. You basically meant nothing, especially to him, just a rival company's wife. But he was single, no one in his life, he had no one to go home to . The only reason why he wanted to help you is because Satoru had it tough growing up.

Seeing his mom constantly getting beat by his dad, then going through emotional trauma, he was meant to be the heir to the company. He was treated so well growing up, but seeing his mother, his own flesh and blood, covered in bruises and cuts? Kinda fucked him up.

So seeing something that happened to him might happen to you? But you were the actual victim?

He was an ass but not a narcissist.

You had those scared eyes he had when he was a kid, hearing his mothers blood curdling screams 24/7. He hated it. He fucking hated it so much, he almost had a panic attack before he went to his office and sat his ass down. He hated having this office as his own. He didn't want it. Just brought back how well he was treated and his mom was treated like shit.

You had that sweet kinda face he couldn't let anything happen to.

For his sanity, not yours.

The next meeting, he would do something to make it clear to people that he was a terrible man and husband, maybe even he would get something out of it, like his employees. Win, win. He would have to divorce you because the public and his business would go to shambles.

Perfect.

He started his plan when Nanami sat across from him in his big clear tabled meeting room on the 50th floor over looking the bright and busy city. The meeting started off with trades then Satoru literally jumping across the table and pulling up your sleeve to hundreds of bruises scattered across the lower arm.

Reporters going crazy with flashes making your heart drop and breath pick up with quick short pants. You would be homeless or worse if this got out. You quickly ran out as Gojo stood proud, ready to be marked as the "hero who saved the girl from domestic violence!"

You were a misfortune to your family now.

Getting 100s upon 100s of angry calls and texts from flaming family members about how since he has to divorce you, they aren't getting money from the media since your main purpose is that. And how you should've "sucked it up" because all wives have to be punished by husbands.

Yet you wanted to be happy not punished, not hated by the person who is supposed to love you, not treat you like another woman, a female meant to be a wife, not a lover, not someone with deserves affection. An concubine at most. This is horrible, something out of a horror movie. And it's eating your soul in and out.

It sucked, it sucked so fucking hard, being that kinda woman.

Gojo was at his gigantic home, his feet kicked up on an ottoman by the fire, his body relaxed in a comfy chair smiling, scrolling through face book. (He swears he's not a millennial, but he truly is) He saw a small article written by probably one of your family members talking about your downfall and just being total dicks.

His face went pale, realizing that he fucked up.

The marriage was horrible but leaving him would be worse for you too. No good decisions but one of them was mildly better. And he took that from you. He took the only thing that kept you mildly respected, the only thing that kept you afloat in this cruel world. It was horrid. The way your treated. No goods. No happiness, like you were destined to be depressed. This was fucking horrid.

He heard a violent knock, making him jump out of his wallowing trance. He went to the front door, opening it to nothing but a dark sky and a gloomy mist with rain showering down in the front lawn flowers. Until he felt something collide with his chin sending him back a few feet, almost knocking him to the floor.

It was you.

Your face flushed a deep pink, maybe from the cold or crying. Your eyes flicking up to his towering height. You were smaller but you were significantly stronger than him in some way.

He was about to yell until he realized how bad you look. Not ugly but a few bruises on your arms a small bruise on your cheek bone. Your lip is slightly cut like you got punched or something. His anger turned into something of a worry. He's never worried about anyone but his mom before.

He slammed the door his heart beating 100 beats per minute from the stress of the situation. Did he really ruin someone's life? Did he seriously fuck up everything in your life? Lose all the respect you barely have.

Considered a whore even though Nanamis cheating photos got released by one of his mistresses because she was mad about the media calling him an asshole so she decided to make people know she doesn't side with him.

It sucked so bad, he ruined a sweet girls life who was already suffering.

He knows your sweet from limited interaction. Seeing you always respect Nanami even though you hated him deep in your heart. Maybe you did or didn't. It just made his heart sting.

With remorse and something else he can't place, seeing the tears in your eyes mere minutes ago, seeing you almost break down, he deserved to get hit on someway.

He's sad, he's never sad. Sometimes he's tired from the work or annoyed from Nanami, but he's never sad. Never to the point of crying at least.

Never to the point of wanting to rip his heart out especially to someone else's expense. He's more cared about himself, not in a narcissist way but in a way there was no one to care *about*.

He opened the door to seeing a soaked with rain water you, still upset but a bit more calm now. He cleared his throat then smiled in a cocky way saying "someone's upset." Then he did his signature smirk and let you in.

"What's wrong with you?" You stated with a small crack in your voice. Your eyes finally releasing the tears you've been holding in the whole marriage.

His smirk sorta faltered for a sec then going but to his normal cocky self he pinched your cheek. "You're so weak when you cry." He laughs.

Your face stings with a bit of resentment and anger, also a small tad of embarrassment. You raise your hand to strike him again but he caught your hand and let out a little "nuh-uh-uh."

"Why are you being such a dick? I'm gonna be homeless or I can go back to my family home and die from being violently beat." Your voice raising with frustration over the whole situation that he's taking lightly.

"This is your fault."

His face fades into something into almost something of regret and guilt. His signature smile turned into a not so signature frown. His face much more sincere of remorse then it was before.

Your words flowing out of your mouth before you could stop them, insulting him. You were so unbelievably mad it wasn't even funny. You were hurt and he just made it worse in your eyes.

The horrific marriage, and the pain was horrible. Physical and emotional. And everything is so much worse in your own way. After you were done your yelling your face was beat red and wet with your tears.

Satoru was uncharacteristically quiet making your stomach twist in an uncomfortable way, like something was horribly wrong. Maybe you went to far, but you were too hurt to care.

"Listen, I understand why your mad, you were being abused and I couldn't let that slide. Something like this would happen one way or another." He said with a more serious tone.

You realized the change in his tone and you slowly nodded. You understood the severity of the situation. Mostly because you understand the way that it would never be good for you. In or out of the marriage and this specific downfall was bound to happen at some point.

He knew where you were coming from, this whole situation was extremely horrible. He did sorta fuck up. He didn't even ask if that is what you wanted. He knew it went to shit and you couldn't control it. But the marriage was only going to get worse, more violent. You might've had to do things that were horrible to stay with him.

It was scary knowing that no matter what your life would suck. And for some weird reason it made his heart hurt.

He tucked your wet hair behind your ear looking into your eyes for a second, then he slowly cleared his throat calling a maid over. "Get her in a room, and a towel and fresh clothes. Make sure she has the soap she wants." He said with a small smile on his face as he looked at your confused one.

He held your hand and realized how bad it was shaking. You were scared and alone. He knew your family was angry, pissed and maybe even violent. Maybe thinking the time you turned thirty you would be dead. Or just hurt and poor, maybe you thought you weren't worthy of love.

He held your hand up the stairs, he just felt bad maybe even if it wasn't really his fault. It was gonna happen at some point. He took you to the big comfy room. No crying stains on the fresh pillows, big windows overlooking the city since the house was on a hill. A small chair in the corner with a bunch of stuff on it.

He smiled when your lips slightly moved up. "Why are you doing this Mr. Gojo?" You said with a bit of confusion and gratitude in your voice. He smiled, more natural, moving closer to his breath mingling with yours. "Because you're a bit pitiful Mrs." He said just mrs because he knew you would hate Kento or your maiden name.

That was… thoughtful. Even for him.

He backed up with his signature smirk now. He left with a smile and a little "Night." you nod when he made eye contact then he left. What were you thinking? You should be going back to that dick husband and going on tv and saying its fake, maybe you fell down.

Because Gojo is temporary, this calm lifestyle will be in shambles sooner or later.

You went to bed not being able to sleep great, curling your knees to your chest, finally falling asleep. Finding comfort in the warm home, you knew he would hit you. You didn't know him well but the gentle blue eyes that look at you with cocky kindness makes you know he wouldn't do anything like that.

You woke up with a loud bang and the door flying open. It was Nanami. With cuts on his face and his glasses broke some of the glass in his skin. The maids were trying to stop him holding his arm but he pushed them to the ground. You run out of the room pushing him to the side.

"A bunch of people ganged up and beat the shit out of me!" He growled out, "Because you couldn't hide those

You look down the railing and see the door broken, the wood snapped on the hinges. He grabs your hair and throws you to the ground making you shudder with pain. He kicks your stomach and you scream. Gojo runs out of his bedroom, boxers and messy hair. He punched Nanami in the face making him stumble back.

They get into a tussle but you couldn't physically watch anymore because of how much pain you were in. It hurt so bad. Your stomach was stinging. He kicked it hard. You looked up choking up something to see the calm Satoru Gojo beat the shit out of Nanami.

He was violent.

You knew he wouldn't do that to you. Because if he could do that much violence to one person without remorse, it was chilling. Yes Nanami deserved it, but it was so fucking violent, the blood splatting on the floor scared you. You know how bad Nanami deserved it but it was still frightening.

You get up running, slightly limping from the way your upper body puts pressure on your stomach, Gojo saw it and quickly stopped and ran after you, leaving Nanami on the floor. You were bawling your eyes out, so he quickly wrapped his arms around you and you cried harder. You've never been held with gentleness without malice. Just kindness.

You knew he wouldn't hit you but it still horrified you.

He held you close, kissing your hair, your tears rubbing against his now wet chest. He brought you to his room shutting the door leaving Nanami on the landing. He washed his hands and put on a shirt covering some scrape marks on his chest from the panicking Nanami.

He sat you on the bed silently looking up at you as he went on his knees in front of you. He took off your shirt, your breasts pouring to see your badly bruised stomach. He brushed his hand over your tummy making you flinch. "Hold on." He mumbled and grabbed some healing shit rubbing it on your stomach gently making you have quiet tears roll down your face.

You smiled when he cared about your injures more then your tits making you smile, maybe it wasn't so bad. Being here with him. You heart groaning in the hallway and you pointed to the door then he gently pushed your hand down so he continued fixing you up.

He kissed the side of your breast as he got up and wrapped your stomach in bandages to make sure the cream stays and doesn't rub off on your shirt. Then he slid your shirt back on. "I'm not gonna ditch you because of this mess. You hear me? I got involved and that's my fault."

He smiled at you and hugged you then kissed your cheek. You ignored when he kissed your breast because he just seemed to be doing it for respect in his own kinda way. Even if it was a type of sexual implication, that he wants you. You kinda like it. Being cared for in a kind way, just making sure you're okay but also showing you love.

He sat on the bed and brought you on his lap hugging you. He rubbed your back with his other hand on your thigh holding you close. Your face was in his chest taking in his scent. Gripping his shirt for stability, mental and physical. It stung so bad, you'll have to go to the doctors later that's for sure but you need to relax for a bit.

His chin was on top of your hair as you felt him say through a small rumble of noise against his neck. "Are you alright Y/N?" He mumbled his voice not higher than a whisper. You nod holding him closer to your body, you were cold and he was a gentle warmth you've needed for years.

His blue eyes flicking towards the door was opened by a bloody Nanami you dig your face into Gojo's chest because you didn't want to see that. He put you on the bed with gentleness that only he could provide for you. He took Nanami by his collar and threw him out of the house.

He went back upstairs and the maids that he didn't send home for a day off cleaned the floor. Gojo walked back in and sat back down beside you on the bed making the mattress dip. He realized you fell asleep and he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, kissing your forehead then temple.

He rubbed your thigh gently trying to coax you awake. Your eyes flutter open still glossy with tears. It made you smile at how tender he was being, A big contrast to mere minutes ago. "I called a home doctor." He said it was almost inaudible to keep you relaxed.

After getting checked out and it was nothing internal, it was safe. You were safe. Although the doctor recommended bed rest.

You look go down stairs to Gojo paying the doctor money and letting him out of the front door with a neutral face until he saw your smile and he had that beaming smile that made your day better all ready. "Why are you doing this for me?" you walk up to him with a grin and an eyebrow scrunch.

He looked at you like you just insulted him and his mouth gaped open. "Listen, you were always nice to me, even when you hit me, which hurt by the way. You always have a good reason for something. I deserved to get hit, I was being a bit of a dick before and after you hit me."

"You were a bit of a dick." You retorted back with a smirk. "Hey! I'm being nice here!" He states it's the end of the world. "Anyway I got Nanami arrested, he's going away for a long time. I sent them visual proof and also sent him divorce papers." He says still being cocky but in a nice way. Somehow he could do that.

He went up to you and tilted your head up by your chin and bent his neck down till his breath was mingling with yours. He pressed his lips to yours in the sweetest way possible. Sweet because his lips tasted overly like candy and how soft his lips were. It didn't feel like when you and Nanami were dating it felt like commitment and sincerity.

After that you two went on tons of dates till he presented you with a pretty ring.

Best ending possible.

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Everyone i wrote a fluff for nanami earlier here <3

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Taglist: @blusterry-bomb @riameriash @nanamin-chan @lady-of-blossoms @devilsadvocatenh @beautifuleaglealpaca @bitchpleaseeeeeeeeee-blog @satorupied

@pwincess00 you said you liked part one, so i tagged you in this one, because maybe you would like it <3

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk drabble #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami smut #kento nanami #nanami kento #nanami #kento x reader #jjk kento #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #gojo smut

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