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wlfpet · 1 year

Text

(Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader)

— PAPI BONES

A/N: Hi, this is the formerly scrapped, 3x longer, 2 months writing project that I had because I wanted to fuck abby in a closet! this was actually supposed to be my first post on tumblr, but i got mad at it and sent it to the dungeon for two months :/ but yall wanted it, so I'm super happy i got to finish it, even though it took multiple days and cups of coffee to power through. sorry for the wait, hope you fuck wit her.

content tags (can you tell i don't want to write anymore ;w;): college au, childish antics at a big age, drinking, cool, ellie and dina are in this! kind of abstract sexual descriptions, assplay, cunnilingus (r!receiving), boob... touching? small mention of drugs because dealer!ellie, drunk sex, enthusiastic consent! :D, reader is kind of annoying sorry, men being assholes, reader catching feelings for a girl she fucked once, real.

wc: 7.6k ;w; (send help)

proofread?; barely.

tl : @clearheartgreyflowers, @oatmilkchaii, @ghostfacebunny, @ellsbclls (thank you to the sweetest deb @ellsbclls for helping beta read this, i appreciate your suggestions and encouragement and this would probably have been scrapped TWICE without your help ;w; )

synopsis: your best friend dina drags you to a college frat party. you hate shit like this, and you're painfully shy but when she does those puppy dog eyes you can't say no, so in a cruel twist of fate you end up in the closet with abby Anderson, and lose your virginity. yay college! (apart of the 'jackson university' thematic!)

Your idea of a Saturday night well spent wasn’t squeezing through a sea of sweaty backs; but like many things in your life, it wasn’t up to you, because you were easily swayed. Everything was overstimulating, the waves of bodies on bodies that pulsated and threw you between different poses and balances to keep on your feet, the ringing of laughter, of music, of every sound echoing in your head, around your body, vibrating through your very core. The smell of liquor and drunken antics and that one guy puking in the corner made you sick. But somehow, you were here, spurred on by peer pressure friendship and goodwill, trudging through the blackened room to your target; the snack table.

Dina, your roommate, and determinant best friend held a firm hand on the small of your back, pushing you through the crowd and causing a small jolt to run down your body as she steered you around every obstacle and corner in the room. She was a woman on a mission, and the one who dragged you out of bed, convincing you - against your better judgment- that it was fatal that you accompanied her to a frat party. You knew she was good-natured, and your first friend when you moved 500 miles away from home to college. It was an instant click, but you were opposite best friends.

Dina, ever the social butterfly, had connections in all different spaces; she could party with the sorority girls –hold the coke, please,– out-cram everyone, even the National Honor Society kids, all the way to the top of the class, hell, she was on the damn debate team, which was probably why it wasn’t a struggle to get a ‘yes’ out of you. You, on the other hand, were uncomfortable at bars, school sporting events, and parties, and one time you even thre– fuck, never mind. It was all effortless to her, in almost an enviable way. Dina loved to go clubbing, loved to hang, out, and she had been near-begging you to come out with her and her cool friends for months, not that you’re not cool, I mean.

And somehow, despite everything, it worked.

You could almost remember how you got there if you put away the sticky crunch of coke sticking to your shoes with each step, and reached back into the recesses of your mind. Or at least, back three-and-a-half hours ago.

“They’re all great people, no weirdos, promise!”

It was the emphatic plea made to you as you lay on your bed, queuing up the next episode of the apocalypse show you watched each week, watching her make Dina list off every reason why you just had to follow her out tonight. It was clearly very life-or-death shit to her, but you were unconvinced. It was just a party but there was going to be a smaller, more intimate kickback in a friend-of-a-friend’s basement. She was in the middle of getting ready, sitting at her school-issue desk and looking at herself in the mirror, dark hair coned over her head in a bun as she sat in deep concentration, words slurred and simple as she applied mascara, her mouth slacked into an O position.

“So you’re gonna like, fucking go, yeah?”

She said it as though it was obvious, like it wasn’t a question, but one look at you, –curled up in covers, laptop on chest, martini glass pajama pants and teddy bear teeshirt ON, unbothered– showed her that it would be a tall order, and that big guns would be needed.

“Not interested, sorry.”

“Not even a tinyyyyy bit?” Dina squeezed her fingers together for emphasis, throwing her head back in mock exhaust, a theatric groan rumbling out of her throat. “Not even a little bit.” You echoed, your roommate cutting her eye at you through her handheld mirror, but it was what it was. You weren’t into all of that stuff; the bump and grind of sweaty bodies wasn’t alluring, listening to someone else’s shitty music at ear-bleeding levels felt like hell, and if you wanted to get pitifully drunk and throw up all over yourself, there was a garbage can right under your bed. But your friend really, really, wanted your company and it made you feel, really, really bad to always blow her off.

“Why are you going so hard on this?” You bemused as you propped up on your elbows, watching as she stalked around the room in her newly painted face, quickly rummaging through her drawer for a spare outfit.

“Maybe because it bums me out to see my super cool roommate wasting away in her dorm every weekend?” In Dina’s mind, she was making a lot of sense. She was waiting for you to chime in, to say you know what, Dee? You’re right, I get it. But instead, you stared blankly, and she threw down her arms in exasperation. “You’re in fucking college, man! You don’t even wanna have one night of fun?” She punctuated the ‘fucking’ with a wild gesture around her head, which made you chuckle to yourself.

“I mean, I was planning on wa–”

Your body was jostled by an insane amount of weight, almost turned completely over by two roughhousing dudes– a mess of limbs and arms, who looked at you and then at each other, as though they had spontaneously sobered up. You didn’t even have the time to start to be angry when they prattled off a blended, slurred apology and thrashed somewhere away through the mass of hands and faces in the dark room.

Fucking assholes, ruining the flashback sequence.

The room was lit only by haphazard mood lights; soft LEDs and gaudy, flickering Christmas baubles, a solitary television, camped by stoners who laughed madly, and the dim auburn glow of the odd ceiling lamp nestled in the far back of the house. You were out of your element; you couldn’t dance, weren’t the most social, and even though you were with a friend, all of this made you feel very alone.

Dina cut through the crowd with her elbow, bellowing out “Ex–cuse me!” while she pushed you through gaps as they formed. Her voice fell to mutter again, barely audible, chunked and cut by the music bouncing from wall to wall, grumbling that she had places to be, and if E*&^$ didn’t get her off at least once, there would be hell to pay. She was determined to get to the other side of the room, where it was arranged that by the chips, as smokers usually are, she would find her current fuckbuddy and her friends, waiting to hotbox and pregame a bit more before the room peaked. She was driven by horniness and selfishness, as one typically is after four shots of Tito’s vodka, and getting smoked out and ‘taken care of’ upstairs was half the reason she even came.

You’d never met her most recent suitor, and the question of her girlfriend was always met with a ‘no, she’s just my sneaky link.’ but you didn’t question it enough to know more. She was just the girl who Dina would go off campus to meet, and as long as she wasn’t a slasher, and her pre-rolls knocked you on your ass, it would be what it was. You were carried away by your friend’s excitement, by her heavy hand nearly lifting you off of your feet as she beelined to the kitchen, wrangling your twin bodies every which way.

“Ellie! Ellie!” She yelled, jumping up and down a bit to compensate for her voice being swallowed by the bass. She burrowed through the wave, pushing you towards a girl leaning against the sink, nursing a red cup and low, hazy eyes. Her auburn hair was swallowed by a black docker, and a dark-coloured backpack jutted out from behind her as she smiled and waved the two of you –mostly Dina, into her orbit. She looped her head under your shoulder to be pulled into the strong hug of firm biceps, and Arms looked you over, offering a friendly nod.

–

“It’s on streaming. You can watch ‘Many of Them’ literally whenever!”

“Live tweeting is a part of the experience.” You chided matter-of-factly, sitting up cross-legged. It wasn’t like the brunette was wrong, exactly, but you couldn’t give up too much at once. Going soft was not a part of the plan.

“Fuck, whatever– You know the girl I’ve been hooking up with, right?” Her eyebrow raised at your dispassionate ‘not really.’ “Well you know her fucking joints, she sells– weed, shrooms… pills?” Dina listed off with her finger, mulling over the last detail for a second, then confirming in her head with a nod. It’s fine, you’re cool, and the two of you had always bonded over your love of recreational joy anyways. “So, if you wanna smoke orsomething– I got you, all you have to do is show up.” Her hands were up almost sheepishly as she tested the waters, but you weren’t super convinced, and your idea of fun wasn’t exactly playing wingman while she got tongue-fucked by a drug dealer, and the pregnant pause was enough to cue her into having to bring out the big guns.

“-And, and! I'll wash all our dishes, and cleanyoursideoftheroomforaweek.”

Damn, she practically ran through that last part, so under her breath you knew she was hoping that you didn’t hear. But you did, and for a second you could almost see a smirk play on her face as your eyes lit up. She was always up for a good bribe, and even though she would act annoyed, it was great for breaking you out of your shell. She would offer to watch the zombie show if you came out to the bars in your college town with her, pizza if you confessed to your crush instead of instastalking them three times a day, even though it didn’t work, –oh well, shooters shoot– and tonight? A week free from chores if you just spent a couple of hours in your own personal hell. Yeah, you would give her this one.

“Now we’re talking. If you want someone to be the lookout while you and Jesse Pinkman go at it, who am I to deny?” You teased, kicking your legs over the edge of the bed.

Your roommate craned her head up, momentarily stopping her mission of rifling through her clothes. “Who said that?”

“You’re in your ‘good panty’ drawer.” You whispered cheekily.

“Well, you got me. Someone has to get fucked around here.”

“Oh fuck you, bitch!” You laughed, throwing your pillow, hitting smack in the center of her chest.

Dina bounced around the room, practically billowing with glee. There was a descending, barely audible ‘fuck yeah’ as she traipsed down the hall towards the bathroom, rounding the corner and disappearing from your periphery.

“By the way, you know Jesse’s last name is Huang, right, not Pinkman? And we’re uh– not together anymore.” Dina shouted through the silence.

“That’s a character from Breaking Bad. It was a joke– because he’s a drug de–” You stopped yourself midway. “Never mind. It’s not funny if I explain it.”

“Oh– I never watched Breaking Bad. Too Long.” She deadpanned. You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you slid your way off the bed.

That’s how you found yourself in a dimly lit bathroom, missing the comfort of your memories as ‘Ellie’ rolled a blunt. You stood leaning against the door and Dina sat on the closed toilet seat. The dealer sealed the last of the leaf with a flick of the tongue and a lick of spit, maintaining direct eye contact with Dina so she could not-so-subtly show off. She passed it to the brunette first, who mimed a cheeky, ‘why thank you’ and drew poutily. You three sat there for a while, smoking and talking, steam from the hot shower wafting above your heads as music pumped through the foundation of the house.

There was laughter outside of the door and it soon became awkward for you, Ellie and Dina finishing the blunt, –you were a lightweight– and chatting idly as Dina traced a fingertip against the outline of the tattoo Ellie was showing off.

The temperature of the tiny room ran hotter between their reddened eyes, and it was as though you were being banished by a galactic force. You couldn’t mistake how the red-haired girl’s glance caught an extra second or so at the way Dina’s body was hugged just right in her party dress, cleavage strained against the fuchsia PVC of her neckline, and how she bit the corner of her lip when her eyes hooked on a dark mole on Dina’s breast that was framed by the feathers of her black hair.

It was time to go, unless you were interested in seeing your best friend get dug out on the countertop.

You were already a little bit wobbly, hearing a giggle that slipped from Dina’s lips morph into a squeak as you slipped out of the crack you pulled in the door and into the fray, getting carried down the stairs and back over to the drinks. You crossed over a kissing couple, cutting into their makeout and heavy petting session, and through a huddled together group of girls whispering something about seeing an ex across the room.

You gripped onto the countertop for stability when you finally broke free from the pulsating wave of bodies. There was a bit of everything surfing in deep bowls of ice and water, open bags of chips and snacks bunched up together on the island. You could not be sober for this shit. You wedged up the pop cap on a hard seltzer and brought it to your lips, the spirit coating your tongue and boiling its way into your stomach. There it was again, the familiar warm feeling in your hands and feet, the soft pressure already creeping across the flat of your face. Yeah, now that was it. The anxiety began to melt away, and you leaned against the countertop, flexing your legs.

Wow, they’re inviting giants to the shindig too. You laughed to yourself as the scarlet-lit ocean parted, and a tall, wide figure walked through and into the darkness of a descending flight of stairs. If only it was that easy when you needed to piss, notwithstanding that you had already been in the bathroom.

It’s fun being sardonic sometimes.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see your roommate coming down the stairs, the dealer’s deft fingers pulling down part of her dress that rode up her ass. She arched her head up, straining left and right like the eye of a submarine as she looked for you; her eyes lit up, waving to you as she fisted her companion’s belt loop, bouldering through the sea of people. She was high as fuck, if her bright pink eyes were enough to speak to it, and your gaze lingered over the new expanse of a deep purplish hickey on her neck, small indents from teeth glimmering with saliva in the light.

There was that hotness again that burned in the pit of your stomach, not from drunkenness or anxiety, but the can of fruity liquor in your hand covered up for the embarrassing flush of your wild cherry-coloured cheeks. You peeled your eyes back up to her face and smiled dumbly. You’d never had *that* before. You’ve watched things before at least, and obviously, touched yourself to the thought, but you’ve never had someone to fool around with in bathrooms or hold your skirt when it rode up.

There was your first kiss, but it was in middle school, so it didn't count. It was all clammy lips, two noses that couldn’t get the space between them *quite* right, and an overzealous set of chompers that left you with a bloody lip. Actual horseshit, but somehow, a core memory. It was annoying in a way, how it just didn’t come to you, but you wanted to be wanted. To be lusted over, desired even in that casual touchy way that simmered between your best friend and the girl you didn’t know very well. Dina was making grabby hands at you, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. Your drink bobbed as she whisked you to her will, you and Ellie sharing a knowing look as she pushed your bodies through the hall and down the darkness of the stairwell.

–

“RULES ARE SIMPLE,” some asshole in a hat bellowed as he stood over all of you who sat in the circle, mildly drunk off your asses and looking for easy fun. He held up a black beer bottle, carrying it like a trophy and swishing it around your noses for a closer look. “You kids might know seven minutes in heaven.” You didn’t know him, but according to Dina, this was his house, his party, and his very annoying rules. A light patch of raised skin played against his nose as he scrunched his nose over and over again, hands on hips, clearly trying to steal back whatever thought the liquor took from him. Jason, right?

Whatever.

“But we’re all grown-ups here, so I present to you–” He rolled the bottle in hand, clearly soft-launching his bright idea. “Fifteen minutes in purgatory!” There was a deep groan radiating from some, but there was a small minority that exploded in cheers, and whoops. “Pretty self-explanatory, two adventurers venture deep into purgatory, and come out forever changed.

“Two adventurers go deep into purgatory,” He gestured his head at the foreboding broom closet in the back of the room. “And return forever changed.”

“We’ll use the bottle to choose our unlucky voyagers, and you’ll spend fifteen minutes in the closet.” He explained, dropping the mystique in the second half. “Alright kids, let’s start; and just for the record– If you’re a pussy, get the fuck out of the circle!”

The drunken cast of partiers whooped and cheered, hyping each other up, spilling beer out of red cups as they gestured wildly, entirely too grown for this. The room played ‘not it’ to pick who got the first spin, and the unfortunate soul was a blonde who sat cross-legged, blank-eyed at the black glass handed to her, nodding her head tersely.

“We got our very own Abigail Anderson– !” Her eyes narrowed. “Andddd….” Hat praised, cueing her to spin. She took the bottle, pointing the tip towards herself and then spinning it, the glass doubling, tripling the circle, making you dizzy chasing it with your eyes, and everyone sat with bated breath. It slowed and slowed and slowed, until, like ugly fate, it stopped at your feet.

“Our newbie!” He got up to cheese, leaning over you, placing his hands over your shoulders, and rocking you from side to side. You laughed awkwardly, putting your palms up defensively at nothing.

“Um– uh…” You were at a loss for words, only cut off as his head shot into your field of view, hot, hopsy breath tanging your nostrils. “What, you scared?” He taunted, all eyes on you, watching as you nursed a deep discomfort about the whole thing behind an uneasy smile.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Jordan.” The girl, Abby, groaned. She looked up at you from her downward pointing head, swishing her bottle of hard cider in the hand propped over her knee. Jordan, that was the name of this dickhead. Yeah, fuck him. “If she doesn’t want to get in the closet, she doesn’t want to get in the closet. I’ll just spin again.”

Dina cut in, the redhead still leaning lazily against her. “Yeah, don’t–dont be a dick, Jordan.” Her face was tight, and Ellie was annoyed because Dina was annoyed, and the room held a pregnant silence, and even though it wasn’t your fault, you felt all too responsible and all too uncomfortable with all of the eyes watching you.

“It’s fine, guys. Let’s all– eh, chill out, okay? I’m going to take the dare.” You leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper, trying to steal back the vibe, trying to replace the tension with playful drama as you circled your head around, wiggling the fingers slightly of your held-up palms. “Because I’m not a little bitch.”

The crowd exploded in raucous laughter, each voice clashing together and mimicking the sound of a pipe bursting. You looked over at your partner, who seemed pleasantly surprised, a smirk playing on her peach lips. She placed down her bottle and stood, and as she towered over you, you realised that maybe you were playing with fire. She was scary and nonchalant, but the outer workings of her face were soft and gentle. She didn’t look like the girls in the videos you watched at night; she was something different, uncharted, and before you knew it, a nervousness, and something lower, darker, ran through your body.

Then it was time to go, you piling in first, looking around at some of the half-darkness in the room, barely enough to fit two people in.

The asshole patted the girl’s back, corralling her into the closet behind you. Blood rushed to your head, the pressure was too great, like getting skullfucked through your ears. show her a good time, you could hear him say, and then something that you couldn’t quite understand over the bass. The mountain’s eyes narrowed, but before she could shoot back, her large body crashed into yours and the space became tighter and tighter, just enough for the two of you to put your arms out to either side or turn around. For a split second, you could see Dina’s face from over Jordan’s shoulder, tightened in concern, a timid thumbs up at the side of her head. Then, he closed the door, and the last of the light slipped out through the crack in the wall.

There was a deep silence, and somehow, like the hazy feeling you get right before you wake from a dream, you were chest to chest in the darkness with her blue eyes staring back at you, damn-near bioluminescent. You’d seen her around, because everyone sees her around, but it hadn’t registered that the giant who had parted all of those people in the crowd like they were just water, was standing right in front of you. Outside you could hear the rumble of the music, vibrations of the bass wrapping around you and shaking you from the inside out. The closet was too tight, too warm, too filled with smells from towels and coats and folded blankets and dusty boxes of light bulbs and two cramped, awkward bodies.

Suddenly, you felt all too intimidated.

“You’re Abigail, right?” You questioned. “Off the rugby team?”

“Abby.” You couldn’t read her face in the dark, and though she spoke pointedly she didn’t seem angry, but the accidental overstep was enough to make you want to dig a hole through the floor with your bare hands and die in it. “And yeah– captain, of the rugby team.”

“Oh, sorry, sorry.” You yielded. “So… what are we supposed to do? In here, I mean.” You gestured at nothing, knocking some washcloths from a top shelf down in the dark. “Ah, damn it.” You cursed under your breath, bending down to pick up the small stack. You could hear Abby behind you, sucking her teeth with a judgy hum. Her brows were almost touching her eyelids, captured in secondhand embarrassment, and she almost felt bad for how awkward you were, scrambling to pick them up from the floor.

If you could see her face, you’d be able to tell how her eyes flicked up and down her body, taking everything in. Your black skirt slid slightly to bunch at the front, uncovering portions of your doughy thigh and the ever-so-tiniest range of fabric hiding your prettiest secret. She had to tear her eyes away, almost. She jumped, even, glad you couldn’t see as you popped back up.

You were cute, holding the disheveled stack in your hands, a look of sheer pride on your face. You looked over to the side, tossing them unceremoniously on a free shelf, gravity taking a couple back to the ground. Your sated chuckle, the way your tits pushed up slightly, illuminated, almost framed like art by the neckline of your cream cardigan made her hungry. She pushed the ideas of what she wanted to do with them out of her mind, but damn, she could think about some things that would make the devil embarrassed. She stomped down her desire, stoicism crossing her for a second, only for her to open it back up on second thought.

“They want us to fool around, fuck, ideally.” She started, analysing your expressions for any hint of discomfort at the conversation. “But– we don’t have to do anything.” She tried to cut some of the thick discomforts with a placating smile, almost lost in detail in the low light. She was huge, more so than you, or most anyone else you knew, the jutting-out edge of a shelf knocking the back of her head every time she leaned her head back in the tight space. The hard washboard of her torso was framed by an opening of a grey hoodie and barely much else, just the thick band of her boxers peeking from her sweatpants, and the black of a cropped tank top that stopped right below her bra line.

“Jordan… is typically a good guy, but when he gets drunk he’s a total POS.” Abby was sallow-faced, pursing her lips, tension running through her jawline. “I shouldn’t have let him put you on the spot like that. So… I’m sorry that you got pressured to get in here.”

“It’s fine, I just.” You started, ready to say that big phrase, the one that slightly burned your back to admit. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“What, played seven minutes in heaven? Yeah, kind of a jackass thing to suggest in your twenties.”

Shit. She was going to make you say it.

“No. I mean I’ve never–” and you thought your tiny voice couldn’t get any tinier. “had sex before.”

Abby breathed in the deepest sigh, pure anxiety crossing her face for a split second, before she was feeding you apologies. “It’s fine, we don’t have to do anything we can just sit here and talk. Or be in silence if you want it’s alr–”

“I want to do it.” You said doggedly, pressing yourself into a tiny corner. Her brow perched, and there was something in those narrowing blue eyes that said she didn’t believe you. You were pigeontoed, legs shifting against one another, declaring in your firmest voice that you wanted her to take your virginity.

“Are you sure?” She breathed out, stepping a bit closer. “You don’t have to feel pressured to do anything because you think they want a show.”

“Oh, my god.” You were pouting, annoyed. “I can choose if I want to have sex you know, and I want to have sex right here right n–”

She kissed you, softly as possible, testing your waters to see how far you were willing to go. Her hands were patient, one lightly knotted in the woolen knit of your cardigan to lightly pet your lower back, the other making gentle grips on your sweatered arm. Her fingers were barely bruising, gripping around your wrist almost tight enough, and a tiny shockwave coursed between your thighs and convinced you that you wanted more. In this low light, in this dark room, in this place between space and time, you wanted to be her conquest. To be taken, touched, manhandled, to be made to weather the storm of her overwhelming strength against you, lost in the middle of the ocean.

It was perverted, almost, how the idea of her showing restraint raised hairs on your skin, how you deepened the kiss like you were being overcome with an insatiable, bloody hunger. You had to take back the moment, to steal her attention in a way she couldn’t deny before she thought you were all talk; you stepped closer, positioning yourself so that her thigh hovered right below the heated space under your skirt. Her hand was warm, soft as you grabbed it, moving it lower, deeper down the divot of your back and where the fat of your ass connected. She caught on, groaning into your lips as she kneaded around your body, her tongue sweeter and heavier against yours, working that one damned hand up your skirt to cup bare skin.

You jumped.

As fast as it had come, her hand slipped back from under your skirt and the touch was lost completely, awkwardly hovering for a second until Abby pulled it back into her pocket and stepped back. You were miserable, eyes welling up in frustration like a lost dog at the lack of feeling. She was pulling you into insanity but was too chivalrous to drown you in it, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly as she looked down at you.

“Fuck– didn’t mean to be aggressive like that. I–” The redness bled across her cheeks, freckles on full display as her fingers met the wet spot that you were hiding, your hands guiding hers to the space between your thighs. There was a pause, a knowing, a challenge between the two of you as an unknown heat spread throughout your bodies, and you collided once more. The blonde’s mouth sucked a nasty pressure into your throat, agitating it with bites and licks as her head traveled deeper, hands playing at the front of your sweatered torso to undo the buttons that held your breasts hostage.

Her entrance was assured as she popped the loops open, fingers gripping the fabric of your camisole and lifting up, taking your bra with it. She nipped at the exposed flesh, heat from her mouth traveling directly to your vagina, clit throbbing hard with need. Abby engulfed a nipple with the wetness of her tongue, closing her lips around the rapidly hardening bud to pull it to full attention, chuckling as she scraped the flesh with her teeth. The wet head was replaced with her palms, each thumb and forefinger rolling one or the other. The sensitivity of the tiny flesh was insane, enough to make you whine out loud as she continued, better than anything you had ever done to yourself.

You were biting your lip, eyes big and doe-like as you waded through your pleasure, soft pants heaving your chest. She fished it out from between your teeth and hooked it within her own, popping the plump flesh into her mouth as she pared yours with her tongue. You swore the room was spinning, a wetness slicking between your thighs, a drip positioned between two pairs of hungry lips. You could’ve spent all fifteen minutes– or an eternity, in this beautiful hell, giving and taking and relishing in a different, sort of strange type of want.

“Don’t stop.” You moaned in between stolen breaths, the blonde chasing your mouth each time you pulled away.

“For you, pretty?” Gripping you tighter for emphasis, pressing you closer into the wall, angling further between your spread legs. “Never.”

It was like you were some weird intoxication to her, a drug that she couldn’t get enough of. How your ass molded right into the divots of her palms, those tiny moans that rang through the cage you two were in, the rapid beating of your heart rippling through your body. She wanted to peel your cardigan from your shoulders, wanted to shred your clothes from your body and take you however she liked, and make you feel better than you knew what to do with. Needed to make you scream and fuck you until you cried. But it was your first time, so she resigned to being gentle and soft, like you were a little deer in the forest, and she was trying to get close without scaring you off. so she would give you only what you needed.

She didn’t have a lot of strong feelings about that nickname she had earned in sophomore year, War Machine, from all of the pretty girls she ran through and left unable to walk, unable to talk for a couple of days or more. but when Jordan said it, in front of you, in front of sweet and innocent, pretty and tiny *you* she could’ve reeled back and torn him apart. But she still didn’t want to scare you. So she had forced an alright, the one a child forces when they get scolded, and hid the burning in her palms that made her want to fight in the pocket of her pants.

Your eyes bored x-rays through her formidable thighs as she bent her knees to squad before you, strong hands rubbing up and down your thighs with contrasting gentleness to the hard angles of her face, the brow that was crooked down slightly in concentration, the slightly parted lips playing with mischief as they took you in. You were frightened for just a second, until Abby looked up at you with sympathetic eyes, a hand leaving your thigh and linking with your fingers, guiding you to the base of her skull to envelop her honeyed strands.

She was back at you, the darkness in your stomach leaking out as you palmed her head, and she ran her hands upward, more upward, until the ruffles of your cotton skirt were overturned in her palms. From the waist down, you were completely exposed, a wet spot working itself into your panties from your innermost recesses and a musky scent betraying your shyness.

Abby pressed herself gently into the fabric, her fat lips creating a cool pressure against the hot flesh, her nose itching lightly into your pubis. You bucked your hips unconsciously, nearly fucking her face in your abandon. A vibration from her laugh traveled through you, nestled inside of you, and more wetness began to slick your channel. That friendly ache formed in your rapidly hardening clit, and a similar pain throbbed in your pinkie and middle finger. Her other hand moved up, gripping fistfuls of your ass, less forgiving now, and forcing a squeak from your lips.

You were dumbstruck; a stranger’s hands all over you, mouth nearly on top of your sacred place, nearly leaking from sheer lust. She had barely done anything. Your jaw slacked, and in your mind you felt like a fool, lamenting how you thought your first time would be special. Soft circles rubbed into your inner thigh as she pulled your legs apart, peppering angel kisses throughout the little divots.

“S’okay, baby.” Her voice was barely a whisper, a tiny encouragement that calmed the buzzing in your mind. “Tell me how you want me. I’m yours.”

and you thought that declaration would destroy you,’ I’m yours.’ and it felt very, very real.

“I want you to touch me.” You said, barely a whisper, nodding as she pressed her face to your thigh, sliding down your panties to about knee-level. It was as though she had seen heaven’s gate open, awestruck at the blood rushing to engorge your lips, how your clit stood on end without even being touched. The thatch of hair curling between your thighs and around your depths. She had to have a taste, and there wasn’t much room for second-guessing as she pressed her mouth to the hot spot and flattened her tongue directly against the wettest space.

Juicy noises slid from her mouth as she rolled your clit between her tongue and sucked sharply with her lips, and it was as though you could’ve sunk to the floor, the way your legs became distinctly not yours. It was enough, enough, not enough, then too much. It was like you were an endlessly gushing fountain as Abby’s wet, firm tongue parted your lips, dipping ever so lightly into your hole as she licked out a string of nectar from your drooling cunt. It was as though you were animated, possessed even, as your hands flew into her hair, pushing her head down further and further, to that release you chased violently and madly.

Abby was humble, letting you guide her where you needed her; she was soft at first, but you didn’t want soft, you wanted more.

She obliged.

The blonde slipped her fingers between your thighs and parted your slit, opening up an endless, waiting tightness. She was intrepid, pressing through your clenching muscle and opening you up more than you had ever done; thick digits tearing through you, fucking your pussy at an unforgiving pace, concentration forming in the muscles of her neck. You hid an inhuman growl in the pit of your throat, in the crook of your sweatered elbow, and she moaned out, satisfied with that which she had created inside of you. You were fucking her face in a tight, dirty closet, calf propped over a muscled shoulder for support, the heel of your booties pressing into the wall, locking her in.

It was as though the two of you were fighting, every roll of your hips she chased with her head, every time you shied away from the pleasure she held you harder, taking you even hungrier, diving deeper to a spot you didn’t know was there; every taut pull at her scalp met with an even tighter grip into the flesh of your plush ass. The pads of her fingers violated the sopping warmth of your cunt, and you clenched your stomach unwittingly, walls flexing, holding her hand there. Drool dripped from between her lips, pooling and soaking down into the fibres of an old shag rug, caked with dust and whatever else.

Your own slipped between your lips before you could suck it back in, and the silver trail bounced, the way it does when it breaks, and the thick drop cascaded down her temple, getting lost in your brow. The piece that was yours snaked down your collarbone and between your breasts and somehow, you felt a connection.

Abby snorted, sucked in a breath as her fingers left you empty. Fuck. She didn’t go for her face, wiping them on the skin of your pussy, they traveled upwards, firm grips on your ass. She rubbed the flesh as though she was throwing clay, stretching the skin between her rough fingers, calluses on her palms coasting over every bump and groove. She had found what she had wanted, craning her neck lower, lower, until you could just barely see her eyes. Her fingertips prodded, greedy, opening your lips, tongue leching against your soft fruit as though she was funneling the juices directly into her mouth. You thought your thighs would give out but she held you, stronger, and you fed her willingly.

Her middle finger dipped down into the slit, collecting juices, stealing a breath from your lungs, you wanted to scream her name but it was caught inside of you, so you stood slack-jawed, fuck drunk as she abused your walls, fucking every ridge painfully slow. The tight hole stretched around the meatiness of her finger, and she hooked it as though she was searching, retreating from the warmth, slick with your nastiest of liquids. Again, she split your ass with one hand, and you clenched your tightest hole without thinking about it.

“Don’t worry,” She said, muffled against your mound as she latched against it once more, “gonna help you so fucking good.” You were confused, but you trusted her, a complete stranger. For a second you began to ask what there was to worry about, but your mind was pried away from you as you felt the pressure of her coated fingertip tracing around your asshole. A gentle kiss played at the head of your pussy, comforting you as you nodded your head wildly, something of a ‘yes’ flying from your throat as her middle finger parted that threshold.

Your mind exploded, head shooting straight up into the air, a small yelp burning into a silent open-mouthed cry. You were spinning, the room was spinning, your body heated up instantly. Then, the wet warmth traveled back to your clit, her opposite hand nestling two fingers into your aching, needy twat, her tongue lapping as her fingers resumed digging and that one damned finger fucked in and out of your tightest hole painfully slow.

She fucked you like an animal; you cried out like a bitch in heat. The music trembled through your ears, and you were afraid it wouldn’t be enough, that everyone would hear, everyone would know. You were both drunk and this didn’t matter, didn’t mean anything, but she was bottoming her tongue out in you and you wanted it to mean a lot. Girls talked and you fucking hated them all. She was loose, she got around, and you wanted to be hers.

You wanted to capture her and be interesting to her and walk with her hand on your lower back around campus. Wanted her callused fist in your hair, around your neck as she took you every night. Wanted badly to fucking cum, to open the portal, to wash her face with this unholy water, wanted to kiss wet lips and taste everything. Wanted to know if she could ever like you, after you gave it up, quickly, bellowing like a foghorn against a rack of coats. You wanted to be kept, to keep her spit inside of you like a keepsake but she sucked it back in a quick second, before you could even feel her cheeks hollow between your thighs, and felt dirty for even thinking of it.

A sweet pain formed between your thighs and you couldn’t stop the groan that rose from your throat, every muscle in your face clenching and unclenching, your eyes crossing as your orgasm came quickly into view. Abby fucked you through it, fingers slow and forgiving. It was as though a stream of slowly descending tidal waves were crashing against you, and you needed more, it hurt but you needed more. Something deep burned inside of you, endlessly hot, and you wondered how she could stand the heat as she hit it over and over again. You sobbed, and swore that you could feel a tear roll down your cheek, feeling the need to rub your eyes for good measure.

She looked up, entranced, face softening for a second, watching as you gave up your mind to your body. There was a hard knock at the door, the music lowered a decibel, silence filling the two of you, her fingers still deep inside of your two holes. A sing-song voice bellowed out ‘five minutes!’ and the darkness ridged her eyes.

For the first time, her voice was hard, removing her hand from your cunt, making sure to curl the one in your ass tighter in compensation. She slammed the door twice with her fist, the frame bulging in a way that made you fear the whole thing would just fall down. “Fuck off.” Her voice was loud enough to tear through the uncomfortable tension. There was an apprehensive, ‘woah man,’ that you could barely hear, and the music regained, the party rejoiced, and hopefully, the fear of God being struck enough in your host to leave well enough alone.

Her lips were still slick, soft, kissable with your juices. She flashed you a genuine, pretty smile. Her hands gripped a little too tight but you wanted it all. She looked down at the mess between your trembling thighs, then at your heavy, panting face. She leaned back on her heels as a wide smile played on her face, satisfied with herself. A windy chuckle passed through her glistening lips, wiping her mouth and chin on the inside of her hoodie. “Fuckin’ insane.” She breathed out in between pants.

“Abby.” She said, as though the strength of your orgasm traveled through your brain and made you forget the events of the last 15 minutes. “Constance Hall. Dorm 425 on the second floor.” It was as though your heart skipped a beat, but you punched it down, a weak smile playing against your lips.

She was fucking disheveled, almost inhaling the last sweet smells of your pussy, creating a memory of the flavour and filing it away in her mind for safekeeping. She was delicate, pulling your white panties up to your thighs again, soothing a finger where those soft, curly pussy hairs were hidden again. She let down her hands, skirt furling down, covering the marks of dark possession that she left behind. “Come see me again sometime, ‘kay?” She chuckled, giggled even, and that glint in her eyes was enough to make you faint.

She stood up, waiting for you to compose yourself and straighten everything out before she pushed open the now-unlocked door and peeked her head out.

Jordan was already on her as the door flew open, and you could hear his hushed nosiness as you hugged the wall and tried to act casual, eyes locked on her retreating back as she reentered the room, light haloing her. ‘So what happened?’ you swore his lips read, and your stomach dropped. But she cut through his questions, loud enough for you to hear, convincing enough that he wouldn’t have anything to run his mouth about later on.

“Nothing man, we were just talking.”

Maybe she was actually just that charming.

Yeah.

#tiki writes #abby x reader #abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson ff #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby tlou #abby tlou smut #abby smut #abby anderson x female reader

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suchagreatimetobealive · 2 months

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𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ~°•*'▪︎

Dazai Osamu x Reader

- Tw¡! Extremely toxic relationship, self-destructive behaviour, delirious behaviour, brief mentions of a past toxic relationship with a possessive partner, angst without comfort.

- You know Dazai since his mafia days, but he never indulged you into joining the activity. When finally he left the toxic environment behind, he tried to make the wall between you and him crumble. Sadly, it didn't last long.

- Very rushed, I'm sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes just felt inspirated, I need sleep tbh.

Dazai Osamu has always been defined as someone sadistic, enjoying the pain shine in his victims's eyes, while he bend them over and shots them from behind, after he just reassured them he would not. Not even shooting them on a vital organ; the shoulder, or the arm, so that they crumble on the ground, bloody, in agonising pain, tight grip against the wound in the desperate attempt to soothe the suffering.

He takes pain so rationally, so detached from any mental attachment from someone that It's natural to think he does feel the pain others feels; just not on an empathic basis. He feeds off of it, delighted by the way his enemies -especially the older men who thinks of him a kid- look at him with fear and terror as soon as they realise he's not a normal 15 years old who needs to screw off.

But the truth is that Dazai Osamu is a masochist. A huge, helpless masochist who has moments that really makes you scared. You are not even sure if you are scared of him, or for him. He has no intention to hurt you, you know it; but at one point, you are afraid of him.

Afraid he could harm you to self-destroy.

The day he begged you, on his knees, hopelessly sniffling and sobbing soundly, so pitifully it brought you to tears as well to tear off his limbs is the day you really started to feel the agony in your chest, the dread pooling in your chest, a sudden nauseating sensation ascending from your abdomen to your throat.

That's the day you realised how serious he's sick in the head. He never acted like that with you before, only implied jokes about the thematic, nothing serious. Or so you always thought.

A copy mechanism Dazai Osamu utilises also is, as mentioned earlier, self-destruction.

He would go as far as hurting you just to make you despise him, watch him with hate; he knows it would break his heart, he feels so frustrated when you look at him with worry, the aggravation in his pupils as he tears up even more, as if it's the worse thing that could have happened to him.

But as soon as that gaze appears even for a fleeting second, he's instantly on you, clinging on your side with his hands locked on your waist, head buried on his chest, loud thumping of his heart, restless as the panic rushes to his veins. Soft, trembling hands caressing your scalp as the fingers dig between your strands sweetly, soothingly as if to make you forget what just happened.

But everything that happen each passing night becomes so much, the overwhelming feeling of everything that each time happens, the weight of his words, you feel like you are losing your sanity staying with someone who already lost it a long while ago.

Because you can't fix him, you know. It's impossible to stay with him, he's so broken that instead of you making him feel better, he is slowly destroying you and also himself in the process.

You can't believe even if he looks you straight in the eyes that this whole relationship isn't hurting him.

You had problems with a possessive partner in the past, and that's been hell, so hard but at the end it went away, at the end you fought him, you broke free. But this?

How can you handle this?

How can you handle Dazai Osamu, if he can't even handle himself? You thought you knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to become his partner. Turns out you absolutely didn't. At all.

You can't take it anymore.

Trying to hold him together is making you lose yourself. Each day your anxiety becomes unbearable, your heart always beating so hard against your chest, in fear he could invite you to his apartment the evening. That only means you would witness one of his crisis, or even more than one.

Poor boy wakes up in the middle of the night with a loud gasp, sweat, tears and a raising panic attack as his restless brain registers that it's not real, your chest rising and falling softly, your calm breath seemingly to momentarily also soothe his racing thoughts.

Momentarily.

And that's how another sleepless night at his apartment happens, with you lulling him, keeping his head on your chest, scratching his scalp and giving some kisses here and there, a obsessive chant falling off his lips, same mumbles on loop as he sniffles silently, face wet in tears as whatever thoughts possess his brain.

But you can't break up with him.

This is different; your lover is toxic, but you can't leave him like this. He's suffering. He's suffering so much your heart ache so much every time you see him, but It's just too much.

Everything has become too much, to the point you can't look at him without trembling, panicking, crying and shaking and going into an internal panic.

And he knows, he sees how much this affected you, his selfishness hit again, he's such a cruel creature, isn't he?

Still the ruthless, heartless beast he was back in the mafia. He's hurting you; out of all people, the one who he's hurting is you.

The love of his life, the very reason he's still breathing, the only person who can make him feel safe. But you don't feel safe around him anymore.

You see him as a imminent danger, someone you have to run away from. There are no more goodmorning kisses, there are no more smiles coming your way as he enters the agency, there is nothing.

Not a kiss, not a hug, there's just.. terror.

The way your limbs hugs him like he's made of glass and could break at any touch, the way you curled your fingers around his cheeks with devotion in your eyes now replaced by fear.

Fear hidden behind an anxious smile, lips painfully pulled up in a fake smile every time he encounters your eyes.

And your mental health doesn't get missed by your cowokers; Kunikida often stops by to ask if everything is alright, you are so stiff and It's unusual from someone like you. Ranpo happen checks by as well, giving you subtle glances from the side of the room from time to time and giving you sweets, sometimes dragging you with him to catch some air outside.

He doesn't know if you talked to him, knowing him he already knows anyways. Dazai doesn't even want to focus about what Ranpo knows actually, or he wouldn't even show up in front of the agency door again, he swears.

It would be so shameful.

Atsushi often worries as well, acting similarly to Ranpo, but using more empathy than the older male does, gifting you cute stuff such as peluches, your favorite food, random things he asked to know if you like them or not. Everyone, in their every own way, tries to make you feel better, but nothing can really erase your problem.

And It's so painful, so heart-crashing knowing he is the problem.

And it is also for you, because you love him.

Loved him. At this point, you aren't even sure anymore if you are with him because you want to or because you are just concerned about how he would react if you break up with him.

What if he kills himself?

You would never forgive yourself if he would do that after your decision.

You really don't know what to do, each evening without him sending you on a spiral of desperation, agony and torturous paranoia that just doesn't shake off no matter what you do.

You can't live like this anymore.

"I..." your words struggle to leave your tongue, stuck like a block of ice you can't pull out, blocked between your teeth. It will take time for it to melt, but you don't have all the time of the world.

It's a now or never situation, you don't know when you will get all this courage again in the future. It's not like you hold much of it now anyways, but surely you feel braver than usual.

"...you want to break up with me, right" if it's supposed to be a question, it does not feel like one at all. Your eyes snaps on his, and you flinch.

For the first time in years, you flinch looking in the eyes of someone. Of a man.

The man you loved for years, Dazai Osamu, you don't even recognise him anymore.

You can't find him inside those pupils, the lost gone Osamu you knew didn't left a trace of himself behind.

"...yes" you grit your teeth, cursing yourself under your breath for how weak your voice sounds. Your eyes darts towards the ground, hands gripping each other behind your back, anxiety swallowing you whole, in a cage you can't escape from. That's what his gaze gives you; each time you lock eyes with him, there's no more love, there's no more devotion, no more affection.

You feel, indirectly, forced to stay with him. All because you are afraid.

"Okay" okay? You heard well?

You can't help yourself, your eyes snaps back towards his face; hollow eyes welcoming your surprised one. "...okay?" You speak again, as if to have the reassurance that you heard well.

He gives you a nod, stuff his hands on his coat, and his lips pull upwarbs. His expression is so empty, so void of any single emotion you feel like you are looking up at a corpse, dead with a smile on it's face.

It makes a shiver run down your spine, hands still scrutching themselves nervously behind your back subconsciously.

"You.. will do nothing?" You ask, voice barely a whisper as you don't look away. No matter how lifeless he looks right now, you don't want him to actually die.

But does he even have to keep living? And for what? Watch you find a man (or a woman) who deserves you, someone who deserves your love? His gaze fall on the ground slowly. "...depends on what you mean" his voice is rough, of course he can't hold his tears much longer, the restrain is about to fall off, he can feel his eyes burning so terribly. He would love to do it in your arms right now.

He wants to fall on his knees and scream his lungs out, so much pain not enough to yell out with a single shout.

"..please, don't kill yourself"

"What else?"

"What..?" You stop. You are sure you stopped breathing after his question, a confused frown composing in your worried expression.

"I mean," he speaks slowly "What else is there to be said? I don't have any proper answer to that. I.." his voice falter when he take a look at you "...I won't start again, please calm down.." tone breaking at the end of the sentence, every teardrop spilling from your eyes at the anticipation of yet another breakdown that's about to come feels like a knife stabbing his chest insistently.

What? What is he saying? He won't start anything? How is this somehow even worse than starting? You don't want him to die, you don't want him to kill himself. You just want him to see someone that is capable of helping him, It's impossible no one is able to fix Dazai Osamu. At least a little bit, even if the bare minimum. You don't want to weight the death of one of your best of lovers, the one man you trusted so blindly, who made you feel so loved and cherished. You will never thank him enough for those years, you will never regret them, but you don't want your entire mental health to be thrown away because of his.

Because all humans beings have to be selfish sometimes, to get out of it alive.

But Dazai Osamu feels like he's been too selfish, not asking you himself to break up, waiting you and hoping for something that's never to happen.

For what you know, that's the last time you ever see him again. He completely disappears from sight. The agency has no idea where he ended, if he killed himself somewhere and nobody found his body.

Just know that if Dazai Osamu doesn't want to be found, he will not get found.

Lurking in the shadows is something he does so well, disguising himself and becoming one with the darkness, forgotten by the light, acting as if he never reached it, not knowing what it is like, what it feels like to receive some love.

And that's exactly where Dazai Osamu rests; in the darkness, right where he came from.

Everybody said mafia blood just flows in his veins, and he doesn't even have the strength to deny that to himself anymore. He disappointed you, Odasaku up there must be so deeply disappointed already from how he turned out to be; he tried, he really did, but the mask can't be worn forever.

Dragging a scalpel on someone's throat has never been easier anyway.

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inamindfarfaraway · 3 months

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Stumbled across your post on Carmilla and Cain from one of my favorite artist and just wanted to say that I loved that post incredibly!!

I loved the way you articulated the ability for free will to shatter heavens expectations! It had me thinking about free will in general so thank you for sharing that goodness!

Thank you! This analysis just came to me as a fun little observation, I wasn’t expecting it to gain so much traction. Free will is very thematically important to Hazbin Hotel, isn’t it? Lucifer believed in the good it could do, but accidentally created evil by giving it to humanity and fell for it. Since then he’s seen all the pain free will can cause and become embittered. Charlie, however, believes like he used to and fought for human souls passionately and selflessly enough to bring him back around. The Elder Angels who ordered the Exterminations and the Exorcists who carry them out seem to alternately hate and fear free will’s power, and by their indiscriminate condemnation of sinners as inherently irredeemable, not want to acknowledge it at all.

If the theory that Adam could live on as a sinner in Hell turns out to be true, I’d love to see his character and thoughts on his mortal family and free will explored, because he must have SO much baggage, which could explain (though not excuse) him being The Worst. An interesting detail in the backstory Charlie reads is that he’s never actually stated to eat the forbidden fruit. We see Eve take it, but not him. Maybe the reason that he’s in Heaven, but we never see or hear of Eve or their children in either afterlife, is that in this canon’s version of Genesis, he’s obedient and didn’t commit the original sin, only to be cast out anyway. Regardless of what exactly happens in Eden, he and Eve are forced to fend for themselves in the wilderness. Suddenly they need survival instincts. They can bleed and starve and get sick and loads of animals want to eat them. They have existential dread. Not to mention the marital tension. Why? Because the same angel who stole his first wife messed with his second one! As a result, people can sin. They can hurt each other. This allows Cain to invent murder on his brother. He’s then cursed to wander the Earth, eternally living with his guilt and grief. Oh, and where can dead souls live on now? Where might Abel be trapped forever? Hell, a dimension made of evil, everything bad about the new and degraded human experience taken to the ultimate extreme. You’ll never guess why it exists (Lucifer. It’s Lucifer again). So Adam loses two kids with one stone that was indirectly thrown by one fucking bird guy. Can you imagine how you would feel, having lived that life?

You would have issues. A lot of issues.

No wonder he scorns redemption so much. In his eyes, free will is synonymous with sin - with suffering. But thinking damned souls to be evil incarnate at least lets him take vengeance. It lets him feel the wrathful satisfaction of physically stabbing and hacking his way through representatives of the force that cost him paradise. Broke his family. Killed his child. Maybe he was a genuinely good person when he died. For the most part. Maybe stewing in all that unprocessed trauma while watching the horrors of human history unfold and being venerated and indulged in the perfect afterlife without any of his family changed him for the worse. If you can have a redemption arc in Hell, you can have a corruption arc in Heaven.

After all, Lucifer lost faith in humanity over time. But he has Charlie. Adam’s ‘daughters’ in Heaven are the Exorcists (he calls them “[his] girls” and names them, so he probably creates them), of which I bet Lute was the first. That’s a really twisted dynamic. Like, “From now on, my kids are killing people on MY terms”. Lute having parallels with Charlie makes her being the new main villain even better!

This got out of hand. What I mean to say is, the first human family and how they relate to the theme of free will have huge potential for exploration and development. And if Adam is reborn as a sinner, it would be precisely the Hazbin Hotel blend of heartbreaking and hilarious to have him reunite with Eve, Abel, Seth, etc. in Hell and they’re all like “What. The FUCK?” and his whole horrible personality just collapses in on itself.

#what have i DONE why did i humanize ADAM?#he’s THE WORST #but i guess he is human #that’s the point #he was fhe first human soul and immediately set the standard of suffering and getting fucked up #that fight scene where adam is pure rage and lucifer is gleefully mocking him isn’t so funny now is it?#lucifer: you come and me and my DAUGHTER #adam: oh now you care about kids? now you don’t want your kid to die? would’ve been nice if you’d thought of that in eden!#hazbin hotel #cain and abel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hh adam

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blossomwritesthings · 1 year

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𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬

pairing: jisung x fem!reader (afab)

genre: idol!jisung. estranged!jisung. softdom!jisung. needy!jisung. nearing breakup. hurt/comfort. angst. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. established relationship.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. lots of angst. mentions of estrangement/breakup. slight possessive behavior from jisung. pet names (princess, babygirl/babydoll, etc.). smut warnings below cut!!

word count: 9.4k

summary: things between you and jisung have slowly fizzled out within the past few months. the tension only gets worse after a heated argument that almost ends with your breakup, which ultimately forces him to prove to you how much he still truly loves you.

18+ warnings: dirty talk. oral (f. receiving). fingering. breast/nipple play. slight dom/sub undertones. strength kink. dirty thoughts. hair pulling. praise kink. slight dumbification kink if you squint. unprotected sex (keep it safe, my friends). slight perv behavior from jisung. mentions of masterbation. sweet lovemaking.

a/n: i randomly decided to write this this week after the idea popped into my head, and i was like... hmm, i wonder what would happen if ji's s/o was contemplating a breakup. and then one thing led to another and i found myself fangirling over the idea of jisung being an oral sex god lmao, so here we are!! 😂 also, YES, i'm FULLY on board with the idea of him loving the pet name 'princess.' 😩 lmk what ya'll think of this one... feedback and reblogs are much-appreciated! 🥰

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

Truly, your boyfriend was being very fucking unreasonable. Jisung had been working so hard, for so long, it was almost a miracle that he was still standing upright from all of the shit that he put his body through.

Produce music, work out, practice, perform, film, repeat.

Every. Single. Day.

Even you got sick of your job once in a while - so you couldn’t imagine what it was like for him, to wake up every single day and do the same grind over and over again.

But to your utter surprise, he seemed to love it. Sure, it was stressful as hell and toxic at times, but that just made it all the more precious to him, it would seem. Plus, it was a bonus that he got to experience such ups and downs of being an idol with his seven closest friends in the entire world.

However, there were many drawbacks to his busy lifestyle.

And one of them was the fact that he never seemed to catch a break - never seemed to be home long enough for you.

Even when he had a ‘day off’ on a rare occasion, he always filled his time producing new music, practicing a new choreo, or hanging out at the studio with Chan and Changbin.

And doing all of this didn’t help to make your relationship any stronger.

If anything, it left little time for the two of you to truly connect. Especially within the past few months or so. Mainly, you’d just see each other in passing throughout the workdays, as you came to and fro from your shared apartment. And when you guys weren’t rushing off to your separate schedules, you were fucking quick and effortless around the apartment.

At the beginning of the relationship, the sex had been amazing. Mind-blowing, even. Jisung knew his way around a woman’s body, and he wasn’t afraid to use his skills. His tongue was especially powerful - which you gave credit to his fast rapping skills for - and he liked using it on you to tease and tease until you were a sopping wet, begging mess underneath him. The flirt.

But that was a long time ago.

And now?

Well, let’s just say that the sex wasn’t that… mind-blowing anymore.

You couldn’t remember when it had started to feel different. But then one day, it just lost its unique touch. And then, the sessions changed from long nights of lovemaking in the bedroom to quickies up against the shower wall or on the kitchen counter.

There was this odd kind of… distance that was floating between the two of you. You didn’t know if Jisung felt it, since his mind was always so occupied with thoughts of his work and Stray Kids.

You, on the other hand? It was all you could think about. And every time he walked through the doorway of the apartment after a long, arduous day at work, your heartstrings pulled just a little tighter at the sight of his slumped form. Droopy shoulders, mussed hair, skin sticky with sweat from a workout or practice.

It just didn’t feel the same anymore.

It didn’t…

Didn’t even feel like your boyfriend cared about you.

The passion that had been there between you two at the beginning was erased, and in its stead was an odd, shallow kind of companionship.

Yeah, companionship. That’s what it was.

But definitely not romance.

So when you awoke from the long nap that you had been taking one Saturday night, your first thought was to peer over at the other end of the bed.

Empty.

Void of any life-

Of Jisung.

You let out a dry, humorless scoff. Typical

Your week had been jam-packed with work and it was so exhausting, so the nap had been much needed. Sitting up from your pillow, you ran a few fingers through your hair. In silence, you shuffled out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

But you completely froze up at the sight of your boyfriend sitting at his desk that was placed in the corner of the small living room. You hadn’t expected to see him. It was only nine at night, and he was never home this early on a weekend night. He was hunched over his keyboard, nimble fingers flying across the keys as he typed, head bopping to a tune that was running through the large headphones he had on.

Just then your stomach rumbled, and you decided to pull your attention away from him. He was busy anyway, it’s not like he was going to talk to you. You made quick work in the kitchen and were soon sitting at the small, two-chaired dining room table with a plate of scrambled eggs and browned, pre-cooked sausages on a plate laid in front of you. You sipped on a tall glass of orange juice as you absently scrolled through your Instagram feed on your phone. Trying to pass the time away mindlessly.

You distinctly felt your boyfriend’s presence in the corner of the adjoining living room, but he was apparently oblivious to you sitting there, eating dinner. Alone. Just like you had done for the last- God knows how long.

You honestly couldn’t even remember the last time you two had shared a meal. And all at once, the eggs turned sour in your mouth. You swallowed around the painful lump in your throat, the tears starting to prick at the corners of your eyes.

“Oh- Y/N, I didn’t see you there.” Jisung’s voice rang out across the small apartment, and the sound of it momentarily forced your spine to go rigid, making you sit up a little taller in your chair. He didn’t even use any pet name when acknowledging you then - like he hadn’t done for a long time now.

Just… Y/N.

“What are you still doing up?” He asked. Like he expected you to already be in bed. To be sleeping and dead to the world.

Like he didn’t even fucking want you around.

“Was having dinner,” you started, voice a little scratchy from the unshed tears. You pushed away from the table, standing from your chair. “But I’m not hungry anymore.”

As you made your way back over to the bedroom, Jisung’s voice stopped you in your tracks. “Wait- you’re just… leaving the food there?” Not, where are you going? I’ve missed you. Come here, let’s talk. He only cared about the damn food.

You waved a nonchalant hand in the air back his way, “You can finish it, I don’t care.” And with that, you closed the bedroom door shut behind you with a quiet click.

Immediately, you sank to the floor. Face buried in your hands, violent sobs wracking through your body quietly.

Because where - and when - had it all gone so wrong?

A week passed after that, blurring and bleeding together into so many other similar ones of the past. Wake up, watch Jisung leave the apartment at six in the morning for work, then get ready for work yourself, spend most of the day at your job before coming home at seven, then make dinner, eat it by yourself, get ready for bed, fall asleep at nine.

These days, it was rare for you to even see Jisung enter the apartment at night. Sometimes, you wondered if he even came home anymore. Because truly, what was here for him anyway? He had no regard for you. He didn’t care at all, it would seem.

You were bustling about the bathroom, finishing up applying your moisturizer just before you slipped into bed for the night. Then all of a sudden, the door opened, and in filed Jisung.

He was already clad in his pajamas - baggy cream-colored sweatpants and a thin white cotton t-shirt. You were dressed in a matching set close to his, but your pants were shorts and your white cotton shirt was a crop top. You two had gotten the set the year before, as a cute second-anniversary gift. Like it really mattered now...

Jisung moved in silence, and then he was upon you, pressing your back into his muscular chest. He wrapped a loose arm around your waist and burrowed his face into the crook of your shoulder. “Need you,” he muttered against your bare skin.

For one indecisive moment, his words made you freeze up like a statue of stone in your place. Because frankly, it took you back so far in the past, you were suddenly blindsided by nostalgia. Of stolen kisses taken in corners, and heated whispers said in the dark of night, of hands exploring warm skin, and quiet pants falling from parted mouths. Of how he used to say such things to you when he was so desperate - so needy - for your taste.

But then you were brought back to the present. And you were reminded of the fact that he hadn’t said such words in so long, they now felt foreign on his tongue. And you two hadn’t been intimate with each other - quickie or not - in over two weeks. That’s the longest you had gone in… what felt like forever.

“Jisung- get off me,” you said in an annoyed tone, replacing your bottle of moisturizer on the bathroom counter.

He was still clutching onto you, pressing a few delicate kisses onto the skin of your shoulder. And against your better judgment, a quick shiver ran down the length of your spine. “Don’t play hard to get with me, now…” he said, his tone light a humorous.

Like nothing was wrong and everything was fine. As if he had been acting like the picture-perfect boyfriend for the past few months.

When in reality, all of those things were just downright lies.

“I said- get off of me!” The yell tumbled from your lips before you even realized what you were saying. And as you shoved away from his grasp, stepping back from the counter and out of the bathroom, the air around you instantly changed. From one of playfulness and slight desire on his part, to what you had been feeling at that moment. Bitterness, and… heartbreak.

“Y/N- what-” Jisung followed you out of the bathroom. His voice had an incredulous tone to it, as he was no doubt completely thrown for one from your sudden shift in mood.

“I’m just tired, alright? I want to go to bed.” You said curtly. You climbed into bed, resting your head on your cushy pillow, breathing in a sigh of relief at the comforting feeling of the thick downy comforter covering your bare legs. At least something in this hellhole of an apartment still gave you comfort.

And when you heard the bathroom door shutting quietly behind you, signaling that Jisung was finishing up getting ready for bed himself, the tension eased immensely from your shoulders.

Still, it showed that he had given up.

Like an absolute fucking coward.

And quite possibly, that hurt the most.

You fell asleep to the feeling of a single tear escaping out of one of your eyes, rolling down the side of your nose and across your cheek. Staining your pillow with wetness, just like every other night before, too.

“Can we talk?” Jisung said the next day. He shuffled out of the bedroom, the large backpack that he always used to carry his extra pair of clothes for practice and other gear of the like in hand.

It was early in the morning on a Wednesday, and you were busy in the kitchen preparing your breakfast to go. You didn’t have much of an appetite - for obvious reasons Jisung had no idea about - so you just decided to make some oatmeal and throw it in a thermos for you to eat when you got to work. The night before had left you in an odd sort of emotional limbo as soon as you woke up that morning, and your stomach churned painfully inside of you. With anxiety, and heartache.

Peering up from the strawberries that you were cutting to add to your breakfast, you shrugged your shoulders. “Yeah, what’s up?”

He took careful steps toward you, stopping when he reached a corner of the kitchen counter where he leaned one of his hips against it. “Did I… do something wrong last night?”

His question took you off guard so much that your head shot up from the cutting board. Because had he done something wrong? He hadn’t forced anything, but just the entire act of him expecting something from you after his poor treatment of you for so long… that’s what had upset you. Well, that and a whole host of other things. “No, Jisung, I already told you. I was just tired.” You lied to him with a straight face, as you turned back to your work, slicing through the red flesh of a strawberry with your sharp knife.

“You just acted like… I don’t know, you were mad or something,” he started, and out of the corner of your eye, you could see that he swept a hand through his midnight-black hair in a frenzied kind of way. Surely, his next words weren’t going to be ones you liked. “Are we… good?”

Your boyfriend had said a lot of stupid things in the past, namely when it came to telling absurd jokes. But this? Asking if you guys were on good terms when he had been sabotaging the whole relationship for the past few months with his shitty behavior? Now that was just downright ludicrous. “I don’t know Jisung, you tell me.” You decided to say, as you fit your cut-up strawberries in a clean glass container before placing it into your lunchbox.

“What does that mean?”

Your gaze shot up at his snippy tone, and immediately, it was like a switch was turned on inside of you. And then the words started flowing. “Well damn, Ji- I don’t know! How can we be ‘good’ when apparently, you despise me?!” You threw your hands up into the air exasperatingly, your voice rising and echoing across the kitchen. When you noticed him beginning to open his mouth to shoot back a retort, you rolled your eyes. “And don’t give me the bullshit of ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ because you and I both know that you haven’t done shit for this relationship for the past… I don’t know how fucking long!”

“Well every time I try to get close to you, you push me away!” Jisung shouted back, folding his arms across his chest. Almost like he was trying to protect himself from your words. Your blows. “Like last night- you just… shut down!”

“Did you ever think that I don’t want to have sex with a man who doesn’t even fucking care about me anymore?” You're clutching your fists together so hard that you feel your nails digging into the tender skin of your palms. But, you keep squeezing anyway. It helps ground you at the moment. Helps to keep the tears at bay that threaten to spill over with every word spoken.

“What the hell, Y/N-”

“And don’t fucking call me that!” You screamed, your voice finally giving out and cracking desperately. The tears were freely flowing now, racing down your heated cheeks that were blooming with a furious blush. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N! It’s all you ever call me anymore! Well, I’m sick of it, okay?! Where’s the old Han Jisung? The one that actually loved me and showed interest in me and made love to me sweetly and called me pretty names?!”

Your gazes were painfully locked, and on his face, at that moment, you saw realization dawn upon him. It was so evident in the way that his dark brows creased slightly, the way his bottom lip quivered a little bit, and the way his eyes shone with so many emotions, but mainly- sadness, and... vulnerability?

Too embarrassed to stand there any longer and bare your whole, raw self to him for another second, you quickly grabbed up your lunchbox and made for the living room, where your purse was sitting on the edge of the couch. Then you were turning around and nearing the entryway, slipping on your shoes and coat - after all, it was the beginning of February and it was still cold as fuck out.

Funny, how Valentine’s Day was quickly approaching, and yet your long-time relationship with your boyfriend Jisung was falling apart right before your eyes. Just your luck, it would seem.

“Y/N, where are you going?” Jisung’s voice cracked with unbidden pain as you slipped your thick winter coat on.

And when your hand reached for the doorknob to leave, you felt fingers clutch desperately at your elbow.

“Please- let’s just-”

“Just fucking leave me alone.” You said in a quiet, quivering tone. Your shoulders were still shaking, the tears leaving trails down either of your cheeks.

A tender part of your heart squeezed achingly when you yanked your arm out of Jisung’s grasp. And a tiny, hopeless, strangled sound fell from his lips from behind you, just as you crossed the door’s threshold and barreled out into the cold morning air beyond.

All day, you couldn’t focus at work. You trudged through your routine wordlessly, filling out documents and signing off on things. But inside, your mind was drifting from one thing to another. Would Jisung be there when you returned home to the apartment that night? Or would you come home to a barren place, with him having taken out all of his things?

Did your fight mean that you guys had broken up?

Where did you two stand with one another?

Everything was so murky and fucked up, that by the time you finished work, you were glad that you would be home two hours later than usual. Maybe that’d give your boyfriend enough time to hi-tail it out of there before you met him once more. Before you had to relive all of the trauma and hurt all over again from that morning - from the last few months.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself and steel your rising nerves, as you stood outside of your apartment’s front door that night. It was just past nine, and surely he’d still be at work. Surely, he’d be busy with the boys, practicing the night away, while you drowned in a pint of freezer-burned chocolate ice cream and tears on your bed.

When you opened the door, you immediately noticed how the apartment was quite dark. A tiny sigh of relief left your lips at the sight of shadows filling in the corners of the living room.

He wasn’t home, then.

Good.

And you couldn't remember the last time you had ever thought such a thing-

That your once-loving boyfriend wasn't home, and that that was a good thing.

The feeling quickly became sickening, and you swallowed around a thick lump in your throat.

After peeling your winter coat away from your sweater-clad arms and fitting your shoes back onto the small shelf that you kept near the door, you made your way out of the small entryway and into the kitchen.

But you stopped in your tracks upon the sight that you found there.

Your entire body seized up in surprise,

Spine going rigid,

Hands clenching and then unclenching at your sides.

For there, at the small dining room table, sat your boyfriend, Jisung.

A satiny, maroon-coloured cloth lined the wooden table, and you noticed the fine china that was placed on either side of the thing. The white proclaim plates were filled with what looked like Italian food - loaded with saucy pasta, roasted vegetables, and thick breadsticks. There were two crystal wine glasses too, filled to the brim with velvety red wine.

And at the centre of the table was a vase of flowers - it was bursting with a bouquet of crimson-red and baby-pink roses, sunset-orange daises, and pure-white baby's breath. Around the vase of flowers, laid a handful of candles, their bright wicks flickering in and out with the heat that quietly blasted throughout the apartment. No wonder why all of the lights had been turned off- to give way to the romantic ambiance of such a spread.

In an instant, your heavy purse slipped from your hands. You felt your heart leaping wildly inside of you, thumping against your ribcage in an almost painful kind of way. And only then, did your eyes find your boyfriend’s form in the dim lighting. He was dressed in a simple black long-sleeved t-shirt, the fabric tight around his toned chest. You noticed the black, tight-fitting jeans that wrapped around his legs, hugging every corded muscle flawlessly. His midnight-dark hair was styled messy, hanging low in front of his eyes, and your gaze caught on a thin silver chain that hung around his neck, showcasing his milky-smooth skin.

“Welcome home, baby girl.” Jisung’s voice came out soft and silky. Your eyes locked on his lips, as they moved to form the words. Then, he was standing up from his seat, nearing you ever so slowly. Like you were an animal he was hunting, and he was afraid he’d scare you off with the slightest of movements.

Your eyes found his in the darkness, and there, you saw an abundance of emotions- fondness, love, and… hesitance. “W-What is going on?” You managed to get out, limbs a little shaky as he came so close to you, you caught his scent. He always smelled of a mix of maraschino cherries and sweet lollipops. The smell was so lovely, yet it always did wonders to calm you down.

“Sit, baby.” He whispered. Reaching out, he took ahold of one of your hands and slowly pulled you towards the dining table. He pulled out your seat for you and helped you ease into the plush chair. Then, he was rounding the table once more and taking up his previous position across from you.

“What is all of this, Jisung?” You asked, brows raising in question as your eyes perused the spread in front of you. You hadn’t noticed the small tiered cake before, but the dark pink buttercream frosting seemed to glimmer against the candlelight, and instinctually, your stomach rumbled with hunger.

“An apology,” he began quietly. His stare was locked with yours across the table, and when he leaned over and grasped one of your hands, fingers sliding between fingers, your heart leaped in the pit of your chest. He squeezed your palm gently. “After… after you left this morning, I was a total fucking mess. Came into work practically bawling my eyes out like a stupid baby. The boys were so worried, and after they managed to get everything out of me, they helped me plan all of this.”

You squeeze his hand back, offering a tiny smile. A little kindness wouldn’t hurt, right? At least you could give him what he hadn’t given you in so long. “The setup is lovely. I… I honestly don’t know what to say…” Your voice trailed off, cracking at the end of your words. When you felt the tears welling up in the corner of your eyes, you bit down hard on your bottom lip to quell them from spilling down your cheeks.

Jisung cursed under his breath, shaking his head once, before speaking lowly, “You don’t have to say anything, darling. I’m the one who messed up, who fucked up colossally,” he said, shoulders quaking just a little bit from the sentiment of it all. His eyes were dancing with so much hurt and heartbreak, and at that moment, you wanted nothing more but to get up from the table and envelop him in a long hug. But no- for once, you weren’t going to give anything… for once, you were going to take. “I had no idea what you’ve been going through these past few months. I’ve just been so… caught up - obsessed - with my work that I failed to acknowledge the one thing tethering me to it all. And I’m so sorry. I realize my mistakes now, I understand what I’ve done.

“But… I know that you have no obligation to accept my apology. You’ve been putting up with my bullshit for so long, I wouldn’t blame you if you called it quits right now. And if you do decide to do that, you must know how I feel. I have enjoyed every moment that I've spent with you, while we were friends and lovers. And I’d never give it up for anything else in the world. I love you so, so much. And I never want to hurt you again, not like this.”

You were squeezing onto his hand so tight, you were sure your nails would leave imprints into his palm long after you pulled away. The tears were racing down either of your warm cheeks, your heart cracked open and bleeding with pain. Because the apology was truly genuine. You knew Han Jisung - had known him for so many years now - and you could automatically pick up on when he was telling a lie. But this? This was pure, unadulterated sorrow. He was so remorseful for what he had done, and the distressed look on his face clearly showed how he truly felt. The furrowed brows, the firm press of his lips, the sallow-colored cheeks, the misty eyes.

And suddenly, everything was made so very clear to you.

You knew exactly what you had to do.

“I forgive you.” The words left you quietly, but Jisung heard them nonetheless. Butterflies erupted in your stomach at the confession. Because you loved him too. And all at once, you understood that leaving him, ending the relationship, would just create even more pain for the both of you. And you weren’t a mean person. You cared for your boyfriend deeply and wanted to make things work out. “You really hurt me, you know? All of the late nights away from home, and then the heartless quickies. It became so… tiring, to not have a connection with you anymore. But, I want to try again. I want to make things right, and try and revive the relationship.”

You offered him and minuscule smile, and he mimicked your expression tenfold, the happiness blossoming across his face like an infectious disease. “Yes, yes, I’ll do anything, baby. Anything to save us.” He exclaimed faintly, bringing your hand up to his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss against your skin. A ripple of fire cast through your body at the contact of his lips. “But first, before we work out the details, can we please eat? I’m so hungry, I think I could eat an entire cow right now!”

A hearty laugh escaped past your lips at his absurdity. And almost instantly, it was like you were back to how things used to be - how the old Jisung used to be, the one that would crack jokes all the time around you, the one that would flash you a cheeky grin every other sentence, the one that always made your heart race wildly.

“Yeah, sure,” you looked down at your plate, trying to hide the smile that was practically lighting up your entire face, “the food looks great, the boys did a great job in helping you.”

“Mhm, I did most of it though,” he said in between a huge bite of pasta. “But you know how they get… especially Seungmin, always needing the credit.” He rolled his eyes at you, and you both burst out into a fit of laughter.

It felt good to let loose in front of him. To laugh your head off, without feeling like you were a burden. And in no time at all, you were digging into your serving of pasta, savoring the salty sauce as it coated your tongue in a mouth-watering kind of way.

“Can you hand me that knife over there?” Jisung asked an hour later, as he slotted a bowl into the dishwasher. You two were currently cleaning up the kitchen from the bomb that had been left off in the wake of him and the boys trying to make a romantic dinner for the two of you.

You leaned across the granite countertop and passed him the knife, before going back to wiping down the stove with a damp towel. You guys had passed the dinner with a mix of serious conversation and silly jokes. Over the meal, you guys had decided on what the future looked like. Jisung promised that he’d talk to Chan and his managers about it, but he was positive that he’d be able to leave work at least an hour earlier than he usually did every day. And you promised that you’d keep in touch with him if you were ever running late because of work. You guys planned to set every Friday night aside for the two of you to have a date, even if it was just staying at home and lazying around together, it was a time you'd get to spend together, just the two of you.

Neither of you had brought up the sex during dinner, and to be candid, you were a little too embarrassed to talk about it with him. You had no idea why, when you had been dating for so long. But, the idea of explaining your true, most-inner feelings about it all was quite… daunting, to say the least.

“Well, the cleanup is done, at least. I’ll have to clear the table tomorrow,” he said a few minutes later, just as he closed the dishwasher and started up a new cycle. You were leaning against the counter on the opposite side of him, your focus on your hands, as they wound and unwound the damp cloth between your fingers. “Thanks for all of the help, baby girl.”

At that, your head shot up, eyes wide as your focus locked with Jisung’s. “W-Why do you keep calling me that?” You stuttered out, mouth parted just slightly in surprise.

“Why?” He raised a dark, quizzical eyebrow your way, “you don’t like it?”

You felt a deep blush wash across your cheeks at his question, and your eyes flicked away from his that were slowly darkening. “N-No, it’s just… I’m not used to it, I guess.”

“Oh, so then you do like it…” His serious voice resonated out across the kitchen. And then he was moving closer to you until he was standing just a hairsbreadth away from your form. Slender fingers reached out, fitting underneath your chin and turning your head so that your eyes locked for what felt like the millionth time that night. “What else do you like, baby girl?” His pupils were dim and blown wide, the shadows in the room seemed to cast across his shoulders, cloaking him in unbidden desire.

“J-Just you, Ji.” You breathed out, as his fingers traveled away from your chin, before cupping your cheek.

“You’ll have to be more specific than that, darling.” Your boyfriend mused. His nails grazed across your feverish skin, sending a shudder to course down the length of your spine. “We never talked about the sex… but I assume there will be no more quickies?”

You swallowed, once. “No, I don’t like them. They’re- they’re not you, babe.”

“Really?” He asked, the heady scent of him filling your nostrils as he stepped closer to you. His hand left your face, as he clutched at either of your hips and helped ease you onto the kitchen countertop that was just at your back. Slotting himself between your parted legs, his fingers dug into the fabric of the tight jeans at your waist. “Then, what is me, baby?” He leaned into you, pressing a tentative kiss against your lips.

And holy fuck, did it feel good.

To have him so close to you,

So intimate.

Holding you so tightly to him.

The safety you felt in his embrace seemed to overwhelm you, and your shoulders shook a little bit with the love that radiated from his face just then. “Y-You love me, wholly and completely,” you began, as he pressed another kiss to your mouth. This one was a lot more passionate than the last and swirled the pool of fervency that was slowly building deep inside of you. “You m-make love to me sweetly.”

You leaned into him then, as his teeth ran along your bottom lip. Your mouth opened, and his tongue swiped at yours. A strangled moan flew from you, and he swallowed it whole with a groan of his own.

“Do you want me to make love to you sweetly now, baby girl?” He grunted in between your kisses. His voice was silky smooth, like the darkest of chocolates. And when your mouths unlaced from one another, a hot string of saliva trailed after his pretty, swollen lips.

Nodding your head desperately, you almost surprised yourself with the sudden earnestness that flooded through your entire system. Because truly, you had been waiting - wishing - for such a thing for months. And finally, your boyfriend was giving it to you. Not out of spite or hatred, but because he loved you. “Y-Yes, I want that so much…” You breathed, the blush erupting into a furious heat across your cheeks.

When Jisung’s lips spread into a knowing smirk, eyes alighting with a certain kind of fire, you had to forcefully press your legs together to quell the rising arousal that had been building in your core. In all honesty, it had been building since the moment had said he loved you, back at the dining table over dinner.

“Well, because I love you so much, and you've been so good for me tonight, I'll give in to you, darling.” Your boyfriend’s hands gripped your waist, hoisting you up from the counter and into the air. You wrapped your legs around his torso, as he led the two of you out of the kitchen and into your shared bedroom. The whole way, you clutched onto his shoulders tightly, heart racing with anticipation.

He laid you down atop the bed, and the silence took over. He said nothing, as he reached forward, taking ahold of your jeans zipper and single button and pulling them free. Then, all at once, he was shucking your pants off in one fluid movement, his eyes never leaving yours as he cast them aside on the ground. Jisung reached behind him, clutching at his shirt before hoisting it over his head and discarding it somewhere next to you.

You swallowed audibly at the sight of his bare chest. The only light shining in the bedroom was a dim nightlight plugged into the far wall near the bathroom, and its amiable hue cast an ethereal kind of glow across his tanned skin. The well-toned muscles on his arms seemed to shimmer in the light, the definition of his abs rippling with every breath he took. For the most part, during your quickies within the past few months, he hadn’t undressed that much. It mainly just consisted of him tearing his pants down, pushing your panties aside, and finishing within ten minutes. There was nothing romantic about it, which is why you absolutely hated it.

Biting your lip at it all, you squirmed underneath him. He liked your reaction to him, liked the way you ogled his chest. It was evident by the way a lazy grin broke across his face. “Your turn,” is all he said, before diving into you and pressing a fervent kiss against your mouth.

Within a few breaths, he had your shirt off and was working at unclasping your bra. At the thought of him seeing you naked save for your panties, panic suddenly started to rise into your throat. You hadn’t fully laid out in front of him in a very long time. What if he didn’t like what he saw? What if you were ugly to him after such a prolonged period of not seeing you?

“W-Wait,” you managed to get out, swallowing thickly. Jisung’s fingers instantly stopped at your bra clasp.

Worry started to fill his eyes as he said, “Do you not want to-”

“No!” You blurted out, a little too quickly for your good. Your hastiness was made clear then, and a tiny, pleased smile spread across Jisung’s mouth at the sight of it. “It’s just… what if you don’t like what you see?”

His eyes narrowed as he stared down at you, a frown darkening his face. “Why in the world would you ever even think that?”

Your breath turned shallow, limbs shaky at the swarthy look he was leveling your way. He had always hated when you doubted yourself- when you questioned his attraction to you and your body. “I-I don’t know… it’s just been, a long time since you’ve seen me like this, that’s all.” Your eyes pulled away from his defined chest, locking with his once more. “I’m worried you won’t… like what you see.”

Jisung didn’t allow you to say anything else then, as he tipped down into you and pressed a feverish kiss against your mouth. “Baby girl, don’t ever say such things like that again, I love you so much. You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” He rumbled against your lips before his kisses began to travel around your face. He pecked the tip of your nose, both of your cheeks, and your forehead, before coming back to your lips. “Now, may I see you? Will you allow me to show you how much I care about you - how much I love you?”

You found yourself nodding your head in a frenzy, sucking in your bottom lip in anticipation. Your boyfriend flashed you a pleased smile before his fingers made quick work of your bra. Not five beats later, he had it off of you and laying on the floor near the bed. At the feel of being completely naked underneath him save for your soaked panties, you fought the urge to squirm and cover yourself up.

“Fuck,” he practically growled out the words at the sight of your bare form. “You’re so pretty, sweetheart,” his eyes trailed away from your exposed chest, locking with your eyes once more. “Love you- shit, love your body so fucking much.” He murmured against your skin, as he pressed a few kisses against your jaw.

“J-Ji-” you mewled at the feeling of his mouth traveling down the column of your neck. His teeth bit into the warm flesh, leaving love marks for the next day. His lips sucked down on your clavicle, fingers digging into your bare hips. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling at the black locks hard as his mouth moved down the centre of your sternum.

“Always thinking about you- you know that, princess?” He mused against your skin, mouth circling one of your breasts with a smattering of kisses. “My mind always comes back to you in the dead of night, when I’m alone in the studio. I daydream about this very sight- having you under me, quaking from my touch alone.” Then his lips were hovering over one of your pebbled nipples, hot breath fanning against gooseflesh. “Because only I get to do this, right? Only I get to see you utterly bare like this…”

Your focus was completely on your boyfriend, as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss against your breast. “Y-Yes, only you get to have me.” You mewled out, clutching at his roots a little harder when his hot tongue darted out and drew a long stripe across your raised nipple. A hiss left your lips at the action.

“Shit, baby- love your tits so much,” he muttered in a quiet voice. His tongue swirled around your sensitive bud, then he was fitting his entire mouth over your mound, taking in as much of you as he could. He lapped and licked at your breast, teeth coming down to graze against your puckered nipple. You felt one of his hands leave your hips, and travel up your side until just stopping at your other breast. There, he filled his palm with your enflamed flesh, rolling your throbbing bud between his fingers. You were a groaning mess under his tongue, writhing with pleasure.

“F-Feel so good, babe,” you whispered, yanking on his hair and pressing his face closer to your chest as he continued to pay ardent attention to your breast.

After a few beats, he pulled away, mouth red and puffy, leaving a trail of hot saliva around your breast. “I fantasize about these all the time- imagining what it’d feel like at that moment to take your gorgeous nipples into my mouth.” His eyes flitted up to yours, which were still locked on where he was pleasuring your chest. “Fuck- almost every day, I pump myself dry to the thought of your beautiful tits bouncing up and down as you ride my cock so perfectly- as I spread your legs and take you fully, as I pound into your flawless little cunt from behind.”

“Y-You thought about me like that, even after all this time?” The surprise drips into your tone, cheeks heating up with rosiness as his head moves over to your other breast that his hand had been playing with. Your heart leaped wildly in your chest at his movements, and you felt the juices practically dripping out of your core, skating down the inside of your thighs. Because truly, you had never known. You had just assumed that, for the past few months, you’d never crossed his mind… after such a long period of the intimacy waning between the two of you...

He smiled against your skin, pressing a fiery kiss against your nipple that had yet to be lapped at by his tongue. “Of course I did, babydoll. You’re always on my mind- you never left it, not even for a single moment.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, savouring the way that he fit his mouth around you in a perfect kind of way. Your fingers shook slightly as you carded them through his silky locks, trying to get as close to him as possible. The moans fled from your lips freely, and the breath caught in your throat at the feel of his clothed bulge pressing against one of your thighs, close to where you needed him most. He was still clad in his tight skinny jeans.

“Baby- n-need you,” you whined after he had pulled away from your breast a few beats later, his face flushed with so much lust. His gaze locked with yours, pupils like twin pools of fire that were so fucking scorching, as he stared down at you, studying your kiss-swollen lips and fluttering eyelids.

“You need me, hmm?” He traced a single index finger down the middle of your chest, nearing your waist. “Where do you need me, princess? Tell me…” His finger trekked down one of your legs, starting to draw tiny shapes in the skin of your inner thigh. “You need me right here, on your thighs?”

“N-No-” you managed to say in a quiet voice. A velvety hush came over the entire bedroom, as you watched his finger slowly trace up your skin until the slim digit was just outside the line of your panties.

“You need me here, baby girl? Between your legs, touching your warmth?” He pushed the nude-colored panties aside a bit, and immediately, his finger was slicked with your arousal. “Damn it- you’ve soaked through this shit.” Jisung grabbed ahold of your panties and dragged them down your shivering legs before discarding them somewhere behind him.

“Wanted this for so long, Ji,” you started, a low buzz humming in your ears at the way his pupils darkened at the sight of your completely bare form. Finally.

He tipped down towards you, beginning to pepper light kisses against either of your thighs, nearing your throbbing core ever so slowly. “Oh, yeah? What did you want for so long, darling?” His voice was hushed against your skin, and you felt the desire churn in your core at the way he said the words in such a low register. The tone he only used on you - for you - late at night, when it was just the two of you, and he was filled with so much passion.

“Wanted you- face nestled into me, kissing my worries away, licking me clean.” A surprised squeak fled from your lips as soon as his mouth landed on top of your cunt.

“You’ve always had a thing for my tongue, haven’t you, princess?” Jisung said, his voice rumbling against your sensitive flesh and shooting a zap of energy to course throughout your veins. You felt him smirk against your lips, just as he delved into your heat.

And all at once, you were reminded of what you had been missing for so very long…

Slender fingers prying you open slowly,

Practiced thumb pressing against your puffy clit,

Kisses peppered up the length of your warmth,

Tongue drawing a stripe down your lips,

Before thrusting into you, tasting your very essence.

You bucked your hips against your boyfriend’s face, loving the way he twisted his tongue inside of you, the way he used his fingers to pry you open for better access, the way he traced circles around your clit. Every nerve ending in your body felt like it had been set on fire, and loud pants fell from your mouth every time he kissed you, every time he tasted you, every time he hummed against your exposed core in approval.

“Taste so fucking good, babydoll… like the sweetest candy on earth,” he growled after he had pulled away from you to catch his breath. This face was messy with you, lips glossy with your slick. The sight of his flushed cheeks and blown pupils alone was so fucking hot, a choked moan escaped from deep inside of you, and your hands frantically traveled down to the waistline of his jeans.

“N-Need you right now, baby,” you said, voice hitching slightly. It felt like your heart was beating a mile a minute against your ribcage, thoughts moving slowly inside your head like they were trapped in a thick vat of molasses. Your fingers flew at his zipper and Jisung was silent, as you worked his jeans and boxers off completely.

His cock sprung free instantly, the head red and swollen, precum dripping out of the slit and splattering onto the bed haphazardly. You swallowed audibly at the sight of his girth. It had been a while since you had gotten a clear view of… him. And, it was mouthwatering, to say the least. You reached out, palm open and supple, as you took hold of him.

“Damn it- baby… you intimidated by me?” He chuckled dryly, noticing how your mouth was slightly hung open in amazement. You pumped your hands up and down his length a few times, earning a string of curses from Jisung. “Fuck- any more of that and I’ll be a goner, princess.” He ripped your hands away from him and moved so that your fingers were positioned above your head.

Without any guidance, you opened your legs wider, as he slotted himself between you. He clasped down hard on your hands with one palm, while the other found its way back to your core, fingers caressing your inflamed clit. You held your breath in bated silence, waiting, and watching, as Jisung’s tip neared your entrance.

Then, he was sliding in with one fluid, effortless movement. Your mouth fell open, breath falling in short increments, at the fullness you felt slowly taking over your entire body. It was like absolute heaven, with him slowly bottoming out, the tip of his cock hitting that fiery, gooey spot deep inside of you.

“Alright?” Jisung’s deep voice broke you from your daze of lust. You hadn’t realized you had closed your eyes, and when they met your boyfriend’s face, there was a single crease in his brow. Like he was worried that he’d hurt you somehow.

“Feels so good- please, just, fuck me, Ji-” you whined, throwing your head back onto one of your pillows, a loud cry falling from your mouth as you felt him begin to move inside of you.

As he thrust in and out, in and out, the lewd sounds of your lovemaking overtook all of your senses - filling the room with skin slapping against skin, the smell of sex heavy in the air. Jisung set a fervent pace, reaching so far into you that every time he pulled back, and then shoved himself between your lips again, literal stars danced against the blackness of your vision.

“You like this, baby girl?” Jisung rasped out, as he pushed into you vigorously. You were a sopping wet mess, which made for slippery work between your legs. Still, Jisung didn’t mind, and it only seemed to edge him on even further. “Like when I fuck you nice and sweet? Is this what you’ve wanted all along, hmm?”

Nodding your head frantically, a scream tore from deep inside of you at the feel of his fingers pressing down hard on your inflamed clit. You were practically writhing from head to toe underneath him, your arms shaking as he held them up above your head. “Y-Yes, please… don’t stop…” Your voice came out breathless and airy, as he hit a particularly fiery spot inside of you.

“Oh trust me, babydoll, I won’t.” His hand continued to play with your reddened bud, as he rutted into you like a man who had been starved of sex for a fucking millennium.

Then, you felt him move on top of you, face nearing yours and lips kissing their way up the expanse of your neck, nearing your chin, before stopping at your mouth. He stopped just then, seductive breath fanning across your face.

“Kiss me?” You asked, voice high and squeaky in your throat. Because at that moment, with him so close to you, his cock buried so deep, his fingers abusing you so well, you suddenly felt so fucking vulnerable.

At the way you peered up at him with big, innocent eyes, your boyfriend immediately let go of your hands that he had been holding above your head. “Ah- baby, how can I ever say no to such a beautiful face- such a sweet voice?” He cooed down at you. Your fingers found their way into his onyx-colored hair again, slightly pulling at the roots.

Jisung’s scent - of maraschino cherries and sweet lollipops - overtook you, as he bent down, invading your space. The way his mouth captured your lips, tongue lapping at your own, did wonders for your throbbing heart. And all at once, you felt your high quickly approaching.

“Love how supple you get when I fuck you like this…” He whispered against your lips when you had both pulled away to catch your breaths. The charming, gentleness of his voice was a stark contrast to what the rest of his body was doing - how his hands now dug into either side of your hips, how he pounded into you so perfectly with a relentless pace. “So pliant and adorable- princess lets me take care of her well, yeah?”

He pressed another few kisses against your lips, smiling in between them at the nods that you gave him. “L-Love when you call me that… princess…” you confessed, a furious blush creeping over your cheeks at admitting such a thing. You had missed all of the pet names over the past few names. But that one? Princess? You didn’t exactly know why, but it just did something ethereal and magickal to your soul every time he called you by the endearing name.

“You are a princess, baby… my princess.” Jisung gripped onto your hips harder just then, slamming his cock into you so fiercely that a tiny, pathetic whimper left your mouth. “Now… can you be a good girl and cum for me, sweetheart?” He kissed you again and again, and you felt your heart swell up inside your chest from the gesture.

So charming.

So loving.

So soft.

And all at once, you were letting go. Squeezing your eyes shut desperately, galaxies exploding across the inside of your mind. Skin heating up so well, so quickly, that it felt like you had been doused in a pit of flames. Limbs shaking irrevocably, your core clenching around Jisung’s cock, as he chased his own high. You pulled at his silky waves, a string of moans rising from deep within you as you reached the peak of your arousal.

“F-Fuck, you take me so well- so perfect,” Jisung grunted somewhere close to your ear. In your daze of orgasmic bliss, you faintly heard him mumble praises. Praises about you, about your exquisite body, and your enchanting personality. But it was all lost on your ears amidst the dizziness of your fall.

Then you felt your boyfriend stiffen up inside of you, and his entire body shuttered from above as he finally found his release. You felt his seed coat your still-clenching walls, and a content sigh left you at the familiar feeling of it all. Jisung was a moaning mess on top of you, his voice growing so loud with his release, you were sure the neighbors could hear him. He hadn’t cum inside of you, without a condom on, in what felt like ages. And it felt like pure, utter euphoria.

Jisung continued to say soft praises into your ear as he rode out both of your highs, his thrusts turning shallow and sloppy. You moved your head, eyes opening, so that you could see the expression on his face- the tips of his ears were bright red, dark pupils were blown wide, a thin sheen of sweat coated his forehead, and his lips were pink and kiss-swollen.

“You’re so pretty, babe…” You surprised yourself by actually voicing your innermost thoughts. You had told him such a thing in the past, and almost always, he always batted it away. You reached up to tuck a stray piece of his messy hair behind one of his ears.

“You’re even prettier,” his tone was raspy from all of the groans that had fallen from his lips. He pulled out slowly then, and a small cry left you at the sudden absence of him. If you could, you’d love to live the rest of your days out with his cock buried inside of you. But alas, your dreams never seemed to come true. “Always look so celestial- like a little pixie faerie, whenever I fuck you…” Jisung flashed you an effortless grin, pecking one of your reddened cheeks, before stepping off of the bed and flitting over to the nearby bathroom to grab a towel for cleanup.

When he came back, the fuzziness around the corners of your mind was finally gone, and you were able to get somewhat of a grasp on your surroundings. On the way that he leaned down into you, so very close, to wipe a damp cloth against your sticky thighs.

“Love you.” You said at that moment. Silence had enveloped the room, as he made quick work of cleaning the two of you up. But your words seemed to crack open a little warmth into the sex-filled air.

Jisung’s head turned up and his gaze found yours, his sparkly, doe-like eyes widened slightly in surprise. A smile that mirrored yours just then cracked on his lips, and he was soon trekking over to you, where you were still sprawled out atop the bed's rumpled sheets.

“And I love you, too.” The last thing you saw before he took your face into either of his hands was his grin, and how it looked maniac-like. The last thing you saw was the look of pure adoration and love shining across his face, as he pulled you close to him and kissed you sweetly.

Because even though things hadn’t been that great between you for the past few months,

And even though he had been absent for a long time,

And even though your guys’ sex life had gone down the proverbial drain,

Things had somehow turned around.

He had turned things around.

With the beautifully-planned dinner, the delicious food, the tender words, the sweet kisses, and the much-needed lovemaking.

So things could only go up from here…

As long as you two guys had each other,

And as long as you kept fighting for what mattered-

For the relationship-

For each other-

Things would somehow work themselves out, eventually.

Fin.

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chronurgy · 5 months

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I totally understand why Gortash had to die facing the netherbrain - thematically it makes total sense. HOWEVER I really wish he hadn't died because it would have made things much worse for my Dark Urge Vesper. Namely, they would have actually had to choose between their romance with Gale and whatever the hell they had going on with Gortash. And it would not be an easy choice!

Gale loves Vesper and Vesper loves Gale and it's sweet and nice and lovely and maybe a little obsessive but. Well. It's sweet. There are no teeth. And Gale can't ever really understand them the way Gortash does. He makes them a better person. But that means they're constantly on, always fighting their instincts, always trying to be better.

Vesper and Gortash want to eat each other. They play their sick twisted mind games with each other because they both love it. Gortash knows Vesper, has seen them at their most monsterous, and wants them anyway. Wants them because of it. With him, they can be their worst and truest self.

And that's the question at the heart of it - what do they want? A sweet and uncomplicated love, one that will make them a better person, the kind of person that they might like to be, but who will never really understand them, never play their favorite vicious games with them? Or do they want to spiral down into an all consuming relationship that will have the two of then tearing each other apart with their teeth in perfect mutual harmony, to be totally understood, to give in to their worst impulses, lean into the manipulative push and pull schemes that they so enjoy?

#I genuinely honestly don't know #The problem is vesper is kind of a monster but like. Semi-reformed?#Do they want to get better even if it hurts?#Can they have that normal sweet and loving relationship when there's something much worse on the table?#Like I want to be clear: they do love gale. But what they had with gortash was 3 million times more intense and worse and all encompassing #And yeah it was fucked up and they LIKED that #It was like enrichment for them #durgetash #dark urge x gortash #dark urge #vesper #bg3

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silentwalrus1 · 1 year

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Not done talking about how Ichigo’s bankai is a bigger flop than the fall of a twenty foot pancake. Or how Byakuya’s bankai was narratively a fail as well. (Primarily bc it highlighted how shitty ichigo’s bankai is.) The Byakyuka vs Ichigo fight where we first see Byakuya’s bankai was a PRIME opportunity to make the fight conceptually as well as visually striking - because all the elements were there! Byakuya’s bankai supersaturates the area with his reiatsu and gives him pretty much total control over the fight - he can get you from any angle! A zillion times! How do you block a “blade” that’s a zillion tiny particles? You don’t! This is approaching the level of a chemical weapon! It also looks like a cherry blossom leafblower accident, echoing Byakuya’s whole deal - elegant, aloof, as coldly impersonal and implacable as a force of nature! This is sick as hell!

Only who’s his opponent? Oh yeah, Ichigo. The kid who turned himself into a hollow

And what do hollows do? Oh yeah they eat reishi

Ichigo’s bankai - fitting in with his whole deal THEMATICALLY as well as VISUALLY - should’ve been eating other people’s bankais.

This would’ve been:

1. thematically poignant - he has this unstoppable power at the cost of his humanity, and now has to struggle to defeat his enemies without losing himself, becoming a cannibal and eating them as well as their swords!

2. Narratively satisfying - his enemies in canon ALREADY become his allies whenever he defeats them, classic shonen style; this would be mirrored in the act of him literally absorbing their powers to bolster his own!

3. COOL AS ALL HELL.

Byakuya, the symbol of Seireitei, the cold, dogmatic institution that took Rukia away to be executed without question, versus Ichigo: the rough, untutored nobody, the animal clawing at the gates of heaven, a beast that will break all boundaries for the love of a friend. This fight should’ve been the unification of Hichigo, and they should’ve eaten Byakuya’s little lightshow whole

#bleach #yap yap #im going to be steamed about this forever.#steamed as a ham.

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thekingofwinterblog · 4 months

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Thoughts on people saying "Kuina dieing to the stairs is anti-climatic!" To me it works, because that seems to be the conflict of Zoro's ark: pipe dreams vs cruel, sometimes even banal, reality - Kuina feared that she wont reach her dream do to simple biology, and she died because of something that could happen to anybody who is human and not a demigod - hell Zoro in the end is also a human, so what are the chances that he has the best swordfighter genes?

Guess the only flaw could be that in Arlong park the fishmen were said to be 10* stronger than humans, so by Zoro easily defeating them it kinda proves the point mute and makes Kuina sound like a brat "Well a man is 1.6 times stronger than a man, but fishmen are 10 times stronger, and I defeated the ez gg, git gud"

I really like Kuina and her story, but there is no denying that the original message it was trying to convey has been diluted HARD by One Piece's later developments.

The message of the tragedy of Kuina's death is indeed that simple, Banal reality is very much a thing that can upend pretty much anything. It's basically the same message of Usopp's backstory. his family's plans fell to pieces for the simple reason that his mother got sick and died after his dad left. no grand battle, or dramatic circumstances behind that. she just got sick and died.

It is very similar to Kuina's death, in how ambition, plans, and desires of Humanity can be derailed by mundane and cruel reality. That is life. To claim othervise would be naive. People Die.

That part still holds up.

The other big part does not. Namely her father's line "Humans are fragile beings Zoro."

The thing about this line, and it's importance in the context of One Piece has been destroyed over time to such a degree that rather than the feeling of grounded reality that it once brought, instead brings laughter by how untrue it actually is.

Early One Piece had a much, much less uncomfortable relationship with death than the Modern series which is terrified of killing people off.

This is not to say that tons of characters died, on the contrary, not counting flashbacks and chapter 1, you can probably count the people who died in East Blue on one hand(I can only recall Zoro's skinny opponent during the Kuro Arc), but Death was treated in a very different manner than it would be later.

When Oda had this random bandit gunned in the head in chapter 1, it was to set a tone. None of these characters are playing around, wheter they were pirates, bandits, marines or bounty hunters. They lived in a world where getting killed in a fight was a very real and expected risk.

When Usopp gets laughed at by the Black Cat Pirates, Luffy throws a huge boulder at them, and tells them in no uncertain terms that if they laught at him again, he WILL kill them all.

In the context of this world, Kuina's story has very specific point. Namely it's there to showcase that even if you do overcome your doubts and fears, and do commit to chasing your dreams, that is no guarantee for success.

You can still die, and in the stupidest ways, because this is not a universe where death is cheap. It does not take much to kill a human being.

This is also hammered in with what happened to the cook Pirates, a strong, and experienced crew that sailed and survived the Grand Line, and seemingly the New World as well... And they went down toa single, wave in the East blue they hadn't positioned the ship for.

despite their strength they went down like complete chunks.

Just like Kuina.

With all of this in mind, within the context of East Blue, Kuina's Death by a broken neck makes sense from a thematic standpoint.

If you look at it from beyond that era, and into the grand line, where death became as cheap as salt by the sea, it instead makes her going down to something as simple as falling down the stairs and breaking her neck, as something frankly hilariously silly, given just how many characters in this series cheats death, in the dumbest ways possible.

I could make a list of characters who the story would be better off if they died, and i would literarily be able to put up a list with at least over a hundred characters.

The simple fact is that the old tone where death is treated as a serious thing that can happen in any fight, is dead and gone, and has been for a long, long time in One Piece.

Thus removing one of the big thematic points of Kuina's death.

As for the other point, Kuina's actual strength, I dont really see that as a problem.

The Reality is that neither Kuina, nor Zoro knew ANYTHING about the "Real World" so to speak. That was mostly what Mihawk's entire speech during his and Zoro's fight was about. The fact that he was a big frog at the bottom of the well, who had never seen just how wast the world actually was.

While she was at a disadvantage in terms of the fact that her training would begin to produce slower results than Zoro's due to simple biology, the reality is that the strength ceiling of One Piece seems to be the same for men and Women.

After all, Big Mom was by all accounts just as strong as Kaido, able to fight him to a very comfortable draw withouth any greater injury.

Hell, you could make a very good argument that the reason why Big Mom never managed to surpass Whitebeard and had to settle for just being one of the other Yonko who were not the Strongest Man in the World, was because she let herself go really, really hard. Who knows how strong she might have become if she had kept herself in shape rather than just indulge in hedonism completely and become utterly decadent.

There is also the reality that Kuina is drastically underselling her own strenght and potential, because by all accounts, Kuina was a monster in her own right.

Zoro used to train by lifting boulders over his head while training to fight her.

And Kuina was stronger than him. and not by a small amount either given her unbroken 2001 win streak.

Her greatest problem was, at the end of the day that despite being blessed with immense natural skill and strength(much moreso than Zoro) she had a fragile self esteem, in large part caused by her father's upbringing that told her she was destined to failure.

Her story was about overcoming that, and her tragedy was about the fact that after doing so, her dream was still snuffed out to something completely unrelated to any of her worries or struggles.

#one piece #shimotsuki kuina #roronoa zoro #charlotte linlin #meta #analysis #questions and answers

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boinin · 6 months

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“The biggest blindspot on the field...”

Here's our teaser for how Isagi and Hiori's idealised goal is gonna go down. Any thoughts? Here are mine:

The second to last panel from chp 237 shows us the situation near the Ubers goal.

There's no defenders in front of the goal, so it's up to Fukaku Gen alone to fend off scoring attempts. (RIP buddy)

Isagi is double-marked by Rico and Aryu—who has incredible reach and excels at aerial battles.

Aiku and Niko are closing in on Hiori. They have the ability to predict actions using MV in a similar way to Isagi, but lack his imagination. Isagi sees more possibilities.

Finally, Kaiser is moving in from Hiori's left—who also has MV, is just as imaginative as Isagi and has better stats... but who's also experiencing frustration-induced tunnel-vision, hampering his judgement.

Isagi can't receive the ball where he is—Aryu would intercept it, even if Hiori gets past Niko and Aiku.

If Hiori hesitates, he'll get pressed by the defenders and/or Kaiser.

So, it seems like Isagi wants Hiori to send the ball to an unoccupied part of pitch, within his reach.

Where's Isagi thinking of?

Where... or what? Has he got another tactic in mind?

More in-depth speculation under the cut.

Nomura and Kaneshiro love foreshadowing outcomes in Blue Lock. It's infuriating, but I love that kind of storytelling.

On a character level, Isagi is driven to win this match with his own goal, winning his bet with Kaiser. He faces steep opposition by Ubers naturally, but also by Kaiser himself.

Two further considerations: Isagi must ensure that neither Kunigami nor Yukimiya profit off his playmaking.

Kunigami is trying to prove his relevance as a striker against all odds and won't hesitate to poach a fumbled kick by Isagi.

On the other hand, Yukimiya has been willing to assist Isagi in this match so far... but will he sacrifice a chance to score himself in order to support Isagi?

Hell no. Isagi understands their individual protagonism. So even if they join the fray, Isagi's goal idea can't involve them. It's between him and Hiori only.

I keep coming back to this panel of Isagi's eye from chapter 235. In chapter 237, we see a version of it in Hiori's eyes.

His main weapon is his direct shot, which is his ability to score on a pass without stopping the ball's momentum. From Hiori's perspective, we see a slightly hunched or twisted Isagi, kicking.

Remember how the creators love forshadowing? Well, Isagi's positioning in Hiori's vision reminded me of something shown much earlier... before the Ubers match started at all.

Do you remember when Isagi is training with Kurona and Yukimiya between matches? It's from chapter 208.

Here's what came to mind:

Here, Isagi moves in Yukimiya's blind spot (I'll see myself out 🤓), then uses him for balance to pivot and score with his direct shot.

It's actually a sick goal. Downplayed, since it's during training, but Igaguri comments afterwards that Isagi's become a monster.

Who sent that ball Isagi's way in the first place? I'm glad you asked...

...it was none other than Hiori.

They're in trickier circumstances. There's way more players in the mix. But this is a goal they've both achieved before.

As Hiori puts it:

For Kaiser, nothing is impossible.

This isn't the case for Isagi. He is limited by his physical abilities. There's no way he's pulling off a bicycle kick, the way Kaiser did.

But he's been working hard to increase his number of possibilities: increasing his 'luck', per the meaning Ego gives. Back to another thematically significant moment in chapter 213:

For Isagi, this match has been all about proving his worth as a striker. He spent a lot of it defending and being a midfielder—but now he has Hiori by his side, he's free to focus on offence... utilising his weapons' potential to the fullest.

So, to finish things off? Isagi will be scoring a goal that's unique to his skillset and weapons. He'll position himself using MV, and he'll score with a direct shot. In addition, I believe he and Hiori will exploit another character's blind spot, to distract all the defenders.

Who will that be? Well, Nomura/Kaneshiro might have hinted at that too, towards the end of chapter 237:

Kaiser? Barou?

It'd be a risky play. But Hiori does call this idea totally crazy...

Roll on Friday's leaks! ⚽

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bonesbuckleup · 2 years

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can I ask a question? I'm new to writing fic and I'm really bad at summaries. do you have any advice?

Hell yeah I can have some advice for that!

In general, you want to keep summaries brief, to the point, and focused on the fic itself and not necessarily you the writer. The stuff about you the writer can usually go in a note at the start or end. Summaries are just about getting people to click into your fic. With that in mind~~~

DON'T INCLUDE:

This is my first fic in this fandom. This is fine to say, and great for a note at the start or end of the fic, but is unnecessary for a summary. It doesn't do anything to make me want to click into your story.

Summary's bad but the fic is good/lol I am bad at summaries/sorry for the summary/variations thereupon. Self-explanatory! If you're telling me your summary is bad, why would I think your fic might be good? Even if you think the summary is bad, you don't need to tell readers that. You already did the hard part in putting some writing out there into the world, so don't sell yourself short in the last fifty feet of publishing it.

DO INCLUDE:

An Actual Summary. I think this is the one that wigs people out the most, because summaries look easy but are really hard to write. The thing to keep in mind is that a fic summary doesn't have to encompass the whole fic. You generally want to include the set up, inciting incident, and launch into the story (ie, to make up a fic on the fly, Two weeks after Tim goes missing, Bruce receives a strange phone call from an unknown number. If he wants to see his son again, he better play by the rules.) The main thing to keep in mind with doing a classic summary is that less is more! 1-3 lines is ideal, with not more than a short paragraph. Think of this like a blurb on a website trying to get you to read more about a book or movie--not the actual synopsis, which encompasses the whole thing, but a tidbit that tempts readers to click. Show them what the story is, but don't give away everything.

A Thematic Summary. Similar to the above, but aiming more for the feels of the thing and generally for more vibes-based fics than plot-based. Dumb example: Spock is tired of being alone, but he doesn't know how to ask for help. Jim is tired of waiting for people to ask for help, but he doesn't know how to reach out to people sick of being alone. You're just providing more the mood of the story than the events, which is fun.

Lines from the story. Bad at summaries? Cool, me too! If you don't like writing summaries, find a line or two or three from your fic that you really like or that you feel like encompass the spirit of your fic and have those be your summary! This is especially useful for fics with lots of shit going on. After all, the more complicated the story, the harder it is to boil down into a sound bite. Find a bit of fancy writing or a couple lines that convey what's happening and use those in place of a summary.

Brass tacks info. The good news is that fic is a safe space for short hand. There is absolutely nothing wrong with using the summary space to outline the nuts and bolts of your fic. For example, making a fic up off the top of my head, it's entirely acceptable to say A high school AU where Arthur's the quarterback, Morgana rules student council with an iron fist, and Merlin's the new kid who is straight up not having a good time. Or The one where Bucky pushes Steve into a pool. Stucky future fic where no one died and Ultron never happened. Like. It doesn't have to be fancy. You can just say it like it is.

Some combination of the above three. Personally, I'm a big fan of a one-two punch. Including lines gives people an idea of what the Vibe of the fic is, and then a summary or some brass tacks.

NOW. This list is not exhaustive. I am 100% sure there are other ways to successfully provide a fic summary. I am 100% sure there are probably other things you don't want to include. These just tend to be the most common, at least that I see/use.

Hope this is helpful, and happy fic writing!

#mail #anon #fic stuff #writing

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sunshine-jesse · 4 months

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I have multiple thoughts I want to express after reading multiple of your Coffinalyses again.

Isn’t it interesting that the character development for Andrew, the more subtle manipulator of the siblings, is generally agreed to be harder to miss than that of Ashley, Ms. Black Heart on her Long Sleeves, whose is of such subtlety, few in the fanbase could/would recognize it for themselves, instead letting the cognitive bias inclined by the initial narrative insist he’s but a footstool? Maybe it’s difficulty seeing past her awesome fat tits?

Do you think it’s plausible that as kids (or not) Andrew would covertly fake/induce a sickness in himself just to make Ashley feel needed (as his nurse) and sooth her insecurities?

What do you make of a personality swap AU? There’s a take that if such were canon, the game would be in the realm of less enjoyable, more contentious, or something like that. That sound like a reasonable take?

Have you seen a post that highlighted the significance of the different ending shots of Chapter 2 (mark of the demon on Andrew’s cigarette-holding palm vs cleaver, cigarette pack, & lighter in the backseat)? I’m not sure if this was also pointed out in that post, but in Burial, the sibs have determined their next move- new identities and keeping the hell away from the scene of Mr. Washing Machine’s corpse; in Decay, they’ve got no established plans beyond the possibility of murder-suicide and fighting over Ashley once again using the Andy nickname.

I wonder if you’ve thought of writing an analysis in fanfic form from Andrew’s perspective, like you did with It wasn’t ok.

Ashley's character development being hard to notice is twofold: The assumptions many make going into the story make it difficult to conceptualize it as a change. Sometimes it's garden-variety misogyny, sometimes people just don't alter their frames of reference as the story goes on and view every action through the lens of her as a toxic abuser trying to control Andrew. Usually the two are linked. The other issue is that her change doesn't have as blatantly visible an effect on the narrative's as Andrew's does. You have to really go into the weeds to see how different things would've been if Ashley actually didn't change, and you can manifest that refusal to truly change in the story through the decisions you make in the basement.

I think that's pretty plausible, yeah.

Currently, TCOAAL has a lot to say about gender roles and expectations. It's kinda (not really) covert, but it's there. A personality swap AU would undermine that. If the writer of said AU is aware of that, go off, kings and queens, but the work itself would be much less thematically coherent, yeah. A lot of personality swap AUs I've seen also rely on fundamental misunderstandings of the characters lmao

The way chapter 2 ended makes me think Decay will focus a lot more on the siblings than the world around them. Maybe it'll have more of the flashbacks we see in the dev logs? Dunno. It's probably gonna rip me apart either way.

I don't spiritually relate as much to Andrew as I do to Ashley so I think I'd have a lot of difficulty writing a fic from his perspective.

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basedkikuenjoyer · 4 months

Text

I Know a Magical Girl Plot When I See It

1103 is in that weird limbo of us getting a scan way before the official release. Happens end of every year. I'll leave any spoilies under the cutoff, and for now we can just take in this fun color spread. Featuring Yamato & Momonosuke. Neat. Not that these two track with anything in the chapter within or my feelings on it. It's the Year of the Dragon and all.

We all ready? Okay, diddly dee it's 1103!

Okay first off this is sweet. Bonney's really moved up into my top 10 in her own right and that doesn't get brought up enough in all the meta discussion. We get a weird answer to our question last time. What the next segment looks like. Here we get a little of the night before but well, put a pin in that. We will also end on Kuma's arrival. Right at the perfect moment as Bonney echoes the start of the flashback. That's cool. From that meta perspective though, there are two very important scenes:

This chapter will go on to mostly focus on Jewelry Bonney, Saint Saturn, and Bartholomew Kuma. But it's important to note these two panels. First, Vegapunk clearly punts the night before. We saw part of it, a discrete part that pertains to what's happening right now. But we take the time to bait Vegapunk implying there's more going on. Pairs nicely with our main moment for the main cast. Uhh...who fed Luffy? This isn't insignificant. Like, you have Saturn trying to demoralize Bonney and freaking out about this because he realizes he could be dealing with functionally two Nikas. So who fed him? Reminds me of Caribou on Wano of course but any of these little crackles are important to me for more...flowery reasons.

Especially when you have the element of becoming a game of attention. Whoever delivered the food it did it without being noticed. Just like our attention is on Bonney's unfurling drama so too is Saturn's. Setting up Luffy for a recuperative Gum Gum Willow Snacking. I like that it kinda reminds me of Katakuri even if unintended. Enough with this, let's get to the real skinny:

Hey Kuma. Sup? So he's here. It's the tone, the tone of this is so weird to me. I want you to think of the title. A magical girl show. Jewelry Bonney feels like she is at the final climax of one of those. Nah, think about it. You have Saturn laying down the bits about how the Toshi-Toshi fruit would get weaker over time. It really is a cursed ability in that it diminishes as you age. But imagine you're watching a series where Bonney is the star and you see that moment as the final villain is unravelling how all the evil was his doing. It's the stand-in for imminent adolescence. So fitting I'm talking Narnia that often gets criticized for being too on the nose about this idea with Susan.

It's a common thread for stories about young girls for a reason. It's not exactly uncommon for rambunctious, adventurous, & imaginative young girls to become a lot more sensible and down-to-earth young women very quickly. I've literally seen a full mahou shoujo series about a sick girl who stuck a deal with spirits to be able to temporarily become her future self as an idol. That one was a rehash of several others. A loss of innocence moment and time running out on being able to use that power are hallmarks of the ending there. Same with daddy coming to save the day. We got our weird meta shit going on in the background so I'm happy, hell yeah bear boy.

Bonney is fully in Yamato territory for now as far as I'm concerned. As far as story structure, honestly since we still were in the past the first part and Bonney had the thematic "better off dead" bookend you could say this is the end of the flashback. This time the little blip being the mystery pile of food instead of the end. There aren't exactly hard and fast rules here but it is a lot like the last time we came back to Egghead now more than after 1102. Even stuff like the recap. Last time it was Doberman who was a bit of an unreliable narrator, this time we split it between three groups rapid fire all with their own perspective which is cool.

#one piece #chapter 1103 #post wano musings

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aspoonofsugar · 1 year

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Hi! Hope you're having an alright leftover months of this year. Do you still do RWBY analysis? If you still do, can you do an analysis that focuses mainly on Ozpin, both the headmaster and Oz incarnation? All the posts I find about him merely mentions his relations to the subject instead of the man itself, so I am intrigued by what you would say about him, his relationships with himself and others, his thematic importance to the show included. I'd also take any speculations you may have about him, his past, his possible Semblance, and his future at RWBY's finale.

But even if you don't, I'd like you to know that I am a huge fan of your works. Drink lots of water, sleep and eat regularly, and move around a lot!

Hi!

Thank you for the nice words and sorry for the long wait!

So, I may not be the best person to ask about Ozpin because I have yet to fully analyze/develop proper thoughts on him. However, I will do my best!

Before starting, 2 things.

I have talked a little bit about him here and here.

I am not sure if you differentiate between Ozma and Ozpin... personally I don't and I don't think we are meant to, so this post is about the character as a whole

When it comes to Ozpin, I think the best way to analyze him so far is to go through his 2 key relationships: Salem and Oscar.

OZMA AND SALEM: LOSING HUMANITY

Ozma's story starts with his death:

Jinn: Ozma, the infallible hero of legend, fell ill. And where all the beasts and blades of the world had fallen short, a single sickness prevailed.

Ozma's death is important on multiple levels.

Plot-wise it kicks off Salem's conflict with the Gods

Thematic-wise it is there to convey a key theme: death is part of humanity.

Ozma dies out of illness. His demise isn't a violent one. It isn't a Grimm or another human killing him. Hell, it is not even the Gods deciding his time has come. He dies of illness because no matter he is such a great hero. Deep down, he is human like everyone else.

Humans are by definition a mix of Creation (The God of Light) and Destruction (The God of Darkness). This makes them creations with a limited lifespan. Their beauty is who they can become with this time at their disposal.

This is what Ozma's death means, but Salem refuses the idea and sets up the conditions for both Ozma and hers immortality, which isn't framed as something positive, but as a curse:

God of Light: You must learn the importance of life and death. Only then may you rest.

So, Ozma's resurrection starts his personal arc, which is built on a pretty neat contradiction. On the one hand he slowly loses his humanity (1). On the other hand this happens precisely because of his very human flaws (2).

1- When I say Ozma loses his humanity, I don't mean he becomes a monster, but that with time he starts feeling detached from life and necessarily different from others. It isn't something he does consciously or so openly as Salem. After all, differently from her own immortality, Ozma's gives him the chance to truly live with others:

God of Light: Until your task is complete, you will reincarnate, but in a manner that ensures you are never alone.

And he learns to live with humans rather than above them:

Jinn: And as the centuries went on, Ozma began to learn the importance of living with the souls with which he had been paired.

Still, the tendency to think of himself as different and somehow above others is there and it starts with Salem:

Salem: We could become the gods of this world. Our powers surpass all others. Our souls transcend death. We can mold these lands into whatever we want, what you want, create the paradise that the old Gods could not.

Salem: Don't you see? None of that matters anymore. Why spend our lives trying to redeem these Humans when we can replace them with what they could never be?

These 2 ideas might seem opposite, but they have the same root. It is about making Ozma and Salem stand abover everyone else. Be them as Gods or as a New Human Race. The difference is only in form because the result is the same: Ozma and Salem are more powerful than others and can twist and mold the world as they want.

When Ozma breaks up with Salem he refuses this belief, but unconsciously it keeps rearing its ugly head here and there throughout the centuries. This is shown in 2 ways:

a) From a symbolical point of view Ozma and Salem's battle mirrors the Gods' conflict. Ozma steps into the role of Light, while Salem into the role of Darkness. Light and Darkness are meant to represent complementary, so they are built on dychotomies...

Light is day, life, creation, order and rationality. Still, it can degenerate in control.

Dark is night, death, destruction and emotions. Still, it can degenerate in chaos.

Similarly, Ozpin thinks about the bigger picture and puts the world's destiny above his personal wishes. He even accepts Light's mission and becomes the de facto Champion of Light. Salem is instead driven by her emotions. Her love dies? She is gonna fight Gods to have him back. He leaves her, though? Then, she will go in his way and hurt him in any way possible. She is the Champion of Darkness not because Darkness has invested her, but simply because she is close to his ideals and mentality. Her affinity is conveyed also by Salem controlling and creating Grimms, like the Brother used to.

So, the Gods' conflict is reproduced in Ozma and Salem's dynamic. An example of this mirroring is given by the couple's 4 daughters. Light and Darkness create Humanity and give them 4 Gifts. Ozma and Salem build a Family and give birth to 4 Daughters. The Gods end up destroying their own creations, just like Ozma and Salem's fight kills their children. Still, Light recreates the Gifts through 4 relics and Ozma gives birth to 4 Daughters again through the Maidens.

In short, both the Gods and Ozma/Salem are beings more powerful than humans that have a conflict going on. This conflict is both thematic and personal and it ends up becoming a problem for the whole world.

b) From a practical point of view, Ozpin has built a system that runs on secrecy and is organized around his person. He may not want to, but ends up being quite manipulative of his comrades.

For example, he asks Pyrrha to be a Maiden without even telling her about Salem (like, you wanna know about that if you are to become one of her main targets). Similarly, he hides Salem's immortality with the excuse it would demoralize people. In this way, he decides what is better for others in their stead and takes away the chance to make informed choices.

2- Ozpin's flaw is his inability to trust. This tendency of his comes out in the Lost Fable, as well:

Jinn: As Salem and Ozma recounted the events which had brought them back together, each withheld parts of their story. Salem, fearing Ozma would reject her, blamed the end of the world on the Gods. Ozma, still unsure of where the truth lay, kept his task and the Relics a secret.

Ozma doesn't trust Salem, which is one of the many factors that contribute to the end of their relationship. Ozma knows trust and faith are good in theory, but because of his many struggles he forgets "trusting is a risk" and "risks are necessary". He sees trust as only a dangerous bet, rather than as an opportunity. So, he stops trusting and adopts some controlling and manipulative tendences.

Both his belief to be above others and his lack of faith come out in volume 6, when the protagonists strongly confront him.

In Ruby's words:

Ruby: So all those times you talked about having faith in humanity, that was just for everyone else?

Humans have to believe in him, but he doesn't have to believe in humans. This is what a God asks of others. Not a person.

OZPIN AND OSCAR: FINDING FAITH

Ozpin's confrontation with the rest of the group is a huge setback for him, which ends with his "break" from the mission. This choice is a pivotal moment, which kickstarts his development and changes his balance with Oscar.

Ozpin and Oscar's stories and allusions are intertwined. Ozpin alludes to the Wizard of Oz, while Oscar alludes to Ozma. Both are characters from the Oz series, but their stories are different.

The Wizard of Oz is a normal human, who plays the part of a Wizard

Princess Ozma is the rightful ruler of Oz and a magical being

Basically (and oversimplifying) the Wizard is a fraud, while Ozma is the real deal. Still, Ozpin and Oscar's foiling is slightly more complex. As a matter of fact Ozpin's real name is Ozma, while Oscar's name is that of the Wizard of Oz. Basically, Ozpin and Oscar have mismatched names.

What does it mean? It means that Ozpin is magical like Ozma, but not as infallible as others think. In a sense, he is "below expectations", like the Wizard. Oscar is instead a normal boy like the Wizard, but he is growing to become able to succeed where Ozpin fails. So, by the end he would be the "rightful ruler" of himself.

In short, Ozpin presents himself as Oscar's mentor, but in the end he is the one who learns from Oscar. In this way, he is able to grow and to work through his flaw:

Ozpin: But, Oscar-- Oscar: You want him to trust us? Then trust me.

Oscar: He trusted my judgment and it saved us. I want to reciprocate that trust. There's a lot to sort out, but… Oz really wants to help.

He starts to slowly trust again. This means he is learning to truly live with others again and to depend on them again. This is the essence of being humans, after all.

So, Ozpin and Oscar's shared story is one where they discover who they are:

Man: Thank you. Please, tell me your name. Who are you? Suddenly, Ozma's newest reincarnate has trouble speaking. Oscar: He didn't know…

Specifically, Ozpin must rediscover his personhood, while Oscar must reach self-actualization.

SEMBLANCE

All of this brings me to your question about his semblance. Basically, I don't think Ozpin's semblance is important at all, while I think Oscar's is.

After all, it has been mentioned twice now:

Oscar: Semblance? Nora: You know! Like your very own superpower! Everybody's got one. It's just a matter of finding it and mastering it.

Oscar: You guys are evolving and I still don't have my Semblance. Ruby: Well, I bet we'll all be jealous when you do.

Which means it is going to be an important moment. This makes sense because semblances are symbolic of self-actualization. So, Oscar should activate a semblance that defines him as his own person, different from even Ozpin.

As for Ozpin himself, he has shown us no semblance and I wonder if he even has one. As far as we have seen, both Ozma and Salem have kept their magical abilities. I wonder, then, if they are unable to use semblances/do not need them. Wouldn't it be interesting if none of Ozpin's reincarnations has ever activated a semblance because Ozpin's presence made it both unnecessary and impossible? After all, how can you become yout own person if an intruder enters your mind and fuses with your soul?

If so, Oscar activating his would be an exception, which marks something new happening in Ozpin's story.

FROM SALEM TO OSCAR

Ozpin's arc so far has been one where he has progressively moved from Salem's POV to Oscar's. From distrust to faith. From immortality to humanity.

Now, it is too soon to say how his story will turn out. However, I think that he should solve things with both his major relationships. Specifically:

He must overcome his relationship with Salem, which means letting go of her, but also seeing her humanity. Personally, I don't think they should go back together (I think the abusive framing is too on the nose and would be distasteful if they magically fix things). Still, I think Ozpin should empathize with her.

He must make sure Oscar survives and becomes his own person and not one of his lives. So far, Ozpin has ended up absorbing others' life, while this time, I think he should be the one absorbed. This should not be seen as something negative, but as him finding his humanity again. As stated in the beginning, humans live and die. Ozpin should do the same. He should probably choose Oscar (a personal connection) over his mission. In this way he can go back to be an individual rather than an idol. He can be free rather than burdened by an impossible duty.

In short, I think Ozpin is going to empathize with Salem and to die either at the very end or a little bit before in order to save Oscar.

Personally, I think Ozpin leaving the narrative before the final battle works best for his character. It means:

1 He is leaving the mission behind. He can be himself and not a hero

2 He is breaking the endless game he and Salem are playing with humans as pawns. This can be a sign of him also breaking their toxic bond and moving forward

3 He would be entrusting the kids with the future. He leaves the fight in their hands, which means he has restored his complete faith in others. He believes they can save the world and help/stop Salem better than he can

Obviously other possibilities are still on the table. However, as for now, I am pretty sure the reincarnation cycle has to stop before the end of the story.

Thank you for your ask and sorry for the wait! I hope your beginning of the year has been wonderful and that it keeps going on well :D

#rwby #ozpin #ozma #oscar pine #salem #asksfullofsugar #angstandhappiness

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