#but I think I've be doing very good so far

[mariasont]

Could you do a story where Y/N Is taken in a hostage situation and we see more of a dark hotch? like that early episode where hotch and reid are hostages in the hospital?

TOO EMOTIONAL - A.H

a/n: thank you so much for requestin <3 i hope this is what you were wanting!

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: honestly yall i feel like this is way darker than anything i've written so far, not sure if its good or not but alas, mentions of blood, violence, unsub threatens reader with a knife and a lighter, mentions of sexual assualt (it doesnt happen just mentions of it), unsub cuts open readers shirt, hotch is a dick for a plot, hurt/comfort

wc: 1.4k

Your vision was blurred, you fought to focus as dried blood flaked from your lashes with each heavy blink. You swallowed a cough, the floor's cold concrete punishing your knees. The ties around your wrists and ankles were merciless, digging into your flesh. You tried to focus on the sounds around you—the drip-drop of water, the soft wail of distant sirens.

In the dim light, you caught glimpses of Hotch, his distinct cologne mingling with the warehouse's musty air. He was agonizingly close yet not close enough to touch. The unsub's footsteps were barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Panic fluttered in your chest, unwanted and insistent. Only three cases in, and it seemed the universe was conspiring to reroute your career choice.

Frantically, you attempted to wipe your face on your shirt, pulse roaring in your ears as the footsteps ceased before you and Hotch. The man was a ghastly figure, burns cutting from one side of his face to the other. You couldn't breathe.

"What a day to have feds come knocking." His voice was hoarse, fingers absently playing with a lighter.

"You know, they say the most intelligent criminals are the ones who don't get caught, yet here we are," Hotch said, his chin defiantly up, words sharp and calculated.

Suddenly, the unsub was right there, his disfigured face uncomfortably close, the heat from the lighter singeing your skin. His breath was a hot, sticky assault, and you fought the instinct to flinch.

"Smart men don't leave witnesses, and I intend to be very smart about this."

The foundations of your training flitted across your consciousness, the methodologies for keeping control of the situation, but they sifted through your fingers like said, rendering you paralyzed.

"Take her then. She's new, inexperienced. Probably more trouble than she's worth." Hotch's voice was cold, jarring like a slap to the face, his expression empty of emotion.

You strained to keep your face impassive, your eyes darting to Hotch, pleading for his attention. Your breaths were shallow, scarcely there. He had to be bluffing. You felt sick. The unsub shifted his weight, scrutinizing you both, edging closer to hotch, no doubt with suspicion.

The unsub laughed, a cold and calculating sound as he circled around Hotch. "You expect me to believe you'd turn on your own that quickly? I'm not a fool."

"Look at her and tell me what her worth is to me." Hotch's voice was even, almost bored. "She's a liability. Too emotional, too soft." 

His words were flung carelessly, yet they landed with precision, straight into your chest. Your teeth punished the inside of your cheek.

The remarks were like sharp barbs to your chest, instilling a hollow feeling as you attempted to convince yourself that the wetness on your lashes was anything but tears. His assessment was not unfounded. Your empathy, your sensitivity, traits deemed too tender for the harsher realities of your job, were now being used against you. Hotch had always been an exception, until now.

"Well, I could see her worth in other ways." The man's words oozed contempt, his gaze crawling over you in a way that threatened to turn your stomach. "I bet that's how she got the job in the first place, huh?"

"What do you think?" Hotch's laugh was a sinister match to the unsub's. He tilted his head in your direction. "Look at her. That's all she's been good for."

Your breath caught in your throat, your body turning as much as the ties would permit in Hotch's direction. You could almost hear your heart shattering, could feel it in Hotch's inability to face you. Was this a plan or had he truly discarded you?

You never deluded yourself into thinking you were Hotch's favorite--his reserved interactions with you made that abundantly clear. In fact, you were probably his least favorite. He had kept you at an arm's length, while seemingly forging bonds with the others that didn't seem to extend to you.

This was all within reason, given your inexperience and younger age, but the disdain lacing his words was unexpected, shredding through any pretense of professional detachment.

Hotch had never wanted you on the team, it was Rossi who had vouched for you. And now, look where that got you both.

Maybe this was all deserved.

"Then you won't mind if I try her out for myself?" The unsub's insinuation felt like a perverse validation of Hotch's doubts. 

A low hum escaped the unsub as he closed the distance, his gaze predatory. You stilled, breath caught as he produced a knife from his pocket, skimming your cheek just shy of cutting. You were scared and you were scared to show it. Desperately, you looked to Hotch, the blade now hovering precariously close to your sternum.

Hotch wouldn't look at you. You wanted to scream, to cry, to throw something, but that was all shoved to the bottom of your throat as the unsub sliced down the middle of your shirt, exposing your chest and compelling your gaze to it. Tears of humiliation prickled your eyes. How could Hotch let this happen to you?

The unsub's clammy grip clung to your waist, your lips trembling as you prepared for the worst. You closed your eyes, escaping to your house in your mind—tea brewing, fireplace going—anywhere but here.

A sudden splatter to your face jolted you back, eyes opening in alarm you saw Hotch's eyes, not the unsub's.

"You're okay, you're okay," Hotch murmurs. 

The words did little to comfort you, his hands moving blindly to release the binds at your wrist and ankles. Looking down, you see the unsub, knife through his back, blood pooling around him. Hotch's hands are on your wrists, his thumbs massaging away the sting. 

When your hand touches your face, you feel the splatter from earlier, coming back away with a smear of blood on your fingertips. 

Your voice felt like it was a prisoner inside yourself, words and sounds slipping past you like ghosts. A persistent ringing in your ears muffled all but the pungent scent of the warehouse, which clawed at your senses. 

You felt the jostle of hands, the motion of being lifted, a sensation so distant it barely registered. The world was a smear of lights and faces--the team showing up, the paramedics--until it slowly came into focus. 

You barely registered that Hotch was speaking to you, his words indistinct and muffled.

"What?" you asked, your speech slow to form and blurred at the edges.

You had a jacket over the front of you, his jacket, covering your exposed chest.

Hotch's eyes were pools of worry as he grasped at your hand. It was weird, the feeling of his hand in yours. You realized that was the first time you had felt it. 

"More water?"

You could only nod, and he promptly fetched a bottle, twisting it open and placing it in your hand. You took a small sip. 

"It's too loud," you mumbled, you were aware you weren't making sense.  You shifted to face him, your knee grazing his thigh. "Did you mean those things you said?"

"Of course I didn't mean it," Hotch replied quickly, his gaze intense. "You thought I meant that?"

Your gaze dropped to your lap, voice faltering. "I don't know... I wasn't sure, I mean, no, but I just... I don't feel very useful, and this whole mess, it's because of me and I--" 

Tears interrupted you, your hands fumbling to hide them. Hotch reached out, gently turning your face to his, thumb brushing away the tears. 

"Hey, look at me. Don't say that. This isn't your fault. Nothing I said back there was true. I needed to distract him, had to make him concentrate on you."

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying like this," you stammered between sobs. 

"You don't have to apologize. You're crying because you've been through a lot. Just breathe, take your time."

You managed a wobbly smile. "You hit the nail on the head with the too emotional part," you sniffled.

Hotch gave a small chuckle. "Your compassion, your sensitivity, it's what sets you apart as an agent--in fact, it makes you an outstanding one."

You were close now, your gaze inadvertently drawn to his lips. You could kiss him if you wanted. Not that you were in the right headspace or that it was appropriate. But you could've.

"Oh, my goodness, I'm so glad you're okay!" You were barreled into a hug, the familiar voice and blur of color of Penelope enveloping your senses.

Hotch cautioned, "Watch her head." 

With Penelope's hands around you, you found yourself looking over her shoulder, locking eyes with Hotch. His gaze held a new light, a recognition that maybe, just maybe you weren't Hotch's least favorite agent after all.

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[penkura]

You have no idea how happy I am to finally find someone who writes for penguin 😭 he’s so fucking handsome and I love him sm!

Anyways onto my request, could you write a scenario with Law, Penguin, Zoro, and whoever else you’d like, of reader being hit on and then protecting her?

Thank you so much I am obsessed with your writing 😭💛

Yesss more love for Penguin!! He deserves it so much, omg, he's so good!

I've never been hit on before to my knowledge, so I'm just winging it here, but aahhh protective men. <3 I decided to add Shachi to this since he's started working his way into my circle of blorbos, so this my first time writing him in a romantic light lol. I hope you like it!

I'm sorry this took me SO LONG TO DO AAHH. I got back from vacation and life took over again.

Law

Law understands fully that his crew needs time off the Polar Tang every now and then, and that most of the time, that leads to everyone taking over a tavern when you dock, drinking their cares away while he watches to ensure no one does anything stupid. After the one time a fight broke out because Penguin unknowingly hit on the bar owner’s wife was enough, your captain keeps a close watch to cut off anyone who needs to stop before they do something to get you all in another fight.

Still, he has no problems letting you all have some time to relax and unwind, enjoy some drinks and the bad karaoke some of your crewmates partake in, as long as he keeps an eye on you specifically, Law is totally fine with the bar crawls that happen. He isn’t watching you because he doesn’t trust you, it’s the opposite. He trusts you more than anyone else on the crew, that’s why he watches you so closely when you’re out, to make sure you stay safe. There’s too many people out there, men and women, that are willing to lie or take advantage of you to get to him, Law understands that very well.

None of it has to do with the tiny little secret crush your captain has on you, nope. Not at all.

It has nothing everything to do with the guy flirting with you at the bar, it’s definitely not the reason his grip on his glass is so tight to the point you could hear a slight crack. Law can tell you aren’t entirely comfortable, by the nervous smile you have on your face as you inch back a little at a time, but the guy doesn’t seem to get the hint, moving closer, with a drunk grin on his face. Law doesn’t step in right away, just watching to make sure you’re safe. The second you let on that you feel unsafe, or the guy makes the wrong move, he’ll intervene. He has to keep his crewmates safe, small crush or not.

It's not even a minute later when the man puts a hand on your thigh, causing you to stiffen up, that you see the familiar blue from Law’s Room, and suddenly you’re sat in his lap as the drunkard jumps up when you disappear. Law’s arm wraps around your waist as the other guy looks around for you, too drunk to notice where you’ve been placed before he downs his own drink and asks for another, your captain almost sighing relief that he seems to be ignoring your sudden disappearance now.

“Uh, captain…?”

It takes just a moment for Law to realize you’re still in his lap, but he doesn’t bother to push you off or anything, not when he catches the eyes of another patron on you, instead pulling you a bit closer.

“Just stay here. I can keep those drunk idiots off you.”

You feel a bit weird sitting on his lap, but still nod, thankful Law watches out for you all.

You may have to talk to him later though, based on how touchy he seems to be while he keeps you with him, but that can wait. You’ll enjoy it while you can.

~~

Penguin

Penguin trusts you, sometimes he thinks more than he trusts Law and Shachi. He knows that no matter how many people try to flirt with or hit on you, you aren’t leaving his side. You two have been through far too much for you to even think about leaving Penguin at this point, and he does recognize that.

It still doesn’t help the pang he feels in his chest when someone starts to flirt with you, even thought you never reciprocate and instead bring up your boyfriend in retaliation. Most of the time that makes people back off, usually with a dejected look at the fact you’re already taken, and appear to be happily so. Rarely do people try to push and tell you to just forget about him, and when they do, it makes you angry enough to start yelling at them about how awful they are for trying to make you give up the best thing to ever happen to you, it never fails to make Penguin blush and give you all the love and affection in the world later.

Still, this time, he feels like you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. An older man flirts with you at the bar, but you of course aren’t interested, making that apparent as you sit with her chin in your hand and barely respond. He doesn’t seem to get that you have no interest in him, even when you say you’ve got a wonderful boyfriend that you’re madly in love with. When you get up to leave, the guy grabs your arm and tells you to forget Penguin, which just makes you mad and your boyfriend quickly gets up to try and stop you from doing anything to get you thrown out.

“Excuse me?! I’m not gonna just ‘forget him’! He’s the love of my life, he’s been with me for years!! You’re insane if you think I’m going to just leave him because you think I’m easy or something! And another thing, I—”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Penguin hooks his arms under yours, lifting you up as you keep yelling and start kicking your legs, he gives a nervous smile to the man and the bartender, “Sorry about her! My girlfriend gets a little angry when she’s had too much to drink! Come on, sweetheart, let’s get back to the hotel~”

Even though you agree, the whole walk there you complain to Penguin about the man that was hitting on you, how he couldn’t take no for an answer, and it makes your boyfriend sigh with a smile.

He’s always the one to pull you from starting a fight, he doesn’t have to protect you most of the time, but he’s always glad to pull you away before you hurt someone.

~~

Shachi

Shachi knows, he knows, that you and Sanji are just friends. You’ve been friends since you were children, your moms were best friends, you and the blond were just very close and spent a lot of your time playing together back then. You’ve told him, multiple times, that Sanji’s flirting with you is a joke, he’s never had romantic feelings for you and vice versa, you’ve always viewed him as a brother.

He just can’t help it and ends up giving Sanji the slightest of glares every time your dear friend flirts with you, even as you laugh and shove his arm, it doesn’t really help your boyfriend in feeling less jealous about it. Does he feel bad about it? Most of the time, yes, but he still ends up putting an arm around your shoulders and either ignoring Sanji’s comments or glaring at him to the point your best friend feels a little awkward.

Shachi is just very protective of you, even about Sanji. He trusts you, but he doesn’t want someone to steal you away and you’re the best thing to happen to him in recent years. You notice it quickly, when Sanji takes glances from you to Shachi and back, so you smile and tell him that Nami could probably use his company, which always gets your friend to throw his flirting and heart eyes to the true object of his affection, and Sanji runs off to her. You feel Shachi physically relax, still keeping his arm around your shoulders though, as you look up at him.

“Shach. He’s my best friend.”

“I know, I just…I’m sorry…”

“No need to be sorry,” you give him a quick kiss that makes Shachi bury his face in your shoulder and wrap his other arm around your waist in a hug, “Just trust me, okay? I love Sanji like a brother, but I love you.”

Shachi nods, telling you he loves you too, and feeling so grateful he has such an understanding girlfriend. He doesn’t feel like he deserves you sometimes.

He tries to not let Sanji’s joking flirting get to him after that, but it can be hard for him at times. At least you know it’s just because he loves you and doesn’t want to lose you.

~~

Zoro

Zoro has never worried about you being hit on by others. You rarely ever reciprocate, only if you really are interested, and that’s only because your swordsman has yet to make a move on you.  Literally everyone around you can see the fact you both have feelings for each other, but neither of you wants to ruin your friendship, so you’ve not even tried to say or do anything to change your status.

So when he sees other bar patrons flirting with you, Zoro doesn’t do much apart from keep an eye on you. He knows he has no real right to, but he’s always ready to jump up and help you if needed, keeping his free hand on his swords just in case someone gets a little too friendly with you. There have been a few times he’s almost jumped up and helped you, but you’ve been able to shake off the people flirting with or touching you easily, normally saying you’d get them another drink but never going back. They’re normally too drunk to notice anyway as you sneak back to your crewmates.

That normally works, but tonight, it seems the man who’s attention you’ve grabbed is a little more stubborn than others. He sits closer than anyone else has, and keeps touching you, even as you remove his hands from you or shrug him off, he still does it. The man has no sense of personal space or your rejection of his touches, it makes Zoro grip his swords a little tighter as he watches. He really wishes he could just go over, tell the guy you’re his, and get you away from him. So at first he doesn’t, Zoro knows you can handle yourself well enough to stop anyone that make you feel uncomfortable, you’re not his partner either, you can do as you please.

But the second he sees the guy’s hand move further up your thigh and you almost seem to freeze, he’s up and by you in a second, pulling you out of your seat and behind him, sending a harsh glare to the patron that dared touch you without your consent.

“She pushed your hands off multiple times, how much does it take for you to get the hint?!”

“Hey man, she—”

“Leave my girl alone or you’re dealing with me next time.”

Zoro doesn’t wait for a response and takes your hand, leading you over to where the rest of your crew is still seated, placing you beside him and not letting go of your hand, even when you try to bring it up. None of them say anything either at first, until Sanji smirks just a bit.

“So…‘your girl’, huh?”

“Another word and I’ll tell Luffy the combination to the fridge lock.”

Even as they all laugh at the horrified look on Sanji’s face, you smile and look at Zoro, mouthing a ‘thank you’ when he looks back to you, before he holds your hand a little bit tighter with a nod.

You could’ve easily thrown the pervert that was touching you to the ground, Zoro even knows that, but he wouldn’t miss the chance to prove how important you are to him and that he can protect you from anything. Not like you needed him to show you that though.

[fonta-enjoyer]

ᴅɪᴍɪᴛʀᴇꜱᴄᴜ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴꜱ

-ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ-

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ/ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ: ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪᴍɪᴛʀᴇꜱᴄᴜꜱ, ᴡʟᴡ, ꜱᴀᴘᴘʜɪᴄ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ, ᴍᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ, ʙɪᴛɪɴɢ, ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘꜱ

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴏᴋᴀʏ, ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴜꜱ ꜰᴀʀ, ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜰᴏʀ ɢᴇɴꜱʜɪɴ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴅᴏ ɪɴ ꜰᴀᴄᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜰᴀɴᴅᴏᴍꜱ, ꜱᴏ ʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴀ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪᴍɪᴛʀᴇꜱᴄᴜ'ꜱ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ!

(ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ ʙʏ ᴄᴀꜰᴇᴋɪᴛꜱᴜɴᴇ)

ʟᴀᴅʏ ᴅɪᴍɪᴛʀᴇꜱᴄᴜ (ᴀʟᴄɪɴᴀ) - 🩸

◈ lady dimitrescu is by far the most possessive out of the dimitrescu's. she often leaves behind plenty of lipstick marks, hickeys, and bite marks to ensure everyone knows that you are hers.

◈ she is ruthless, merciless to anyone else, but when it comes to you she has a massive soft spot

◈ due to her height and strength, she makes it a point to be gentle with you, treating you very delicately

◈ she enjoys man-blood and mixes it into her wines often, but when she met you, you became her favorite drink

◈ when she drinks your blood, she's careful, making sure not to drink you dry. after she's done, she dotes on you so much. she patches you up, gets you water, and then lays with you, holding you in her arms and letting you rest

◈ she takes a lot of joy in buying you things and spoils you rotten. she often buys you clothes and lingerie; she'd buy you anything at the drop of a hat if you asked. it makes her heart swell to see you wear what she bought you

◈ i think that her main love languages would be gift-giving and physical touch

◈ when it comes to things in the bedroom, she's a hard dom, there's absolutely no way in hell you're gonna top this woman

ʙᴇʟᴀ ᴅɪᴍɪᴛʀᴇꜱᴄᴜ - 💛

▸ bela dimitrescu isn't too possessive, but the streak is still there for sure in some cases. she may leave some marks behind for a bit of fun

▸i'd like to think that it took her some time to realize she had feelings for you, just based off of the fact that she's most likely very busy either buried in paperwork or dealing with her sisters

▸she's naturally a quiet person, but despite this, she still lets you know just how much she cares for you

▸i saw a headcannon where she is the most touch starved out of the daughers and i honestly like that a lot. of course, she gets affection from lady d and her sisters to an extent. lady d comforts her and holds her when she needs it and i'm sure that daniela is more than willing to give out hugs to her family, but she that's probably all that she'd get. i feel like she'd basically turn into a puddle in your arms whenever you'd hug her

▸she defo seems like her love languages would be words of affirmation and physical touch, just based off of what i've said above. she most likely needs affirmations since she's held to such a high standard; she never feels like she's doing enough.

▸she loves introducing you to her hobbies and doing them together

▸she honestly gives me soft dom vibes

ᴄᴀꜱꜱᴀɴᴅʀᴀ ᴅɪᴍɪᴛʀᴇꜱᴄᴜ - 🔪

◎ in terms of possessiveness, cassandra is almost as possessive as her mother. she marks up your neck, your collarbone, and even your shoulders.

◎ she appears bloodthirsty and sadistic on the outside (and can be those things when she needs to be) but you could literally show her any affection and she'd melt on the spot

◎ her love languages would be quality time and acts of service

◎ she adores being in your presence, even if you're just sitting in a comfortable silence

◎ out of all of the sisters, i picture her as a weapon buff, so maybe she taught you self-defense techniques so you could properly fend someone off if a situation arose where she wasn't around

◎ she likes to take walks with you, often showing you around the castle and finding secluded spots where you could get away from the hustle and bustle (or daniela)

◎ she's dominant in bed, good luck trying to top her..

ᴅᴀɴɪᴇʟᴀ ᴅɪᴍɪᴛʀᴇꜱᴄᴜ - ⚔️

• daniela isn't possessive per se, she just thinks its fun to mark you up. she enjoys seeing you get all flustered when you look at just how many marks she left.

• she has a lot of energy (and possibly some adhd) so she loves doing all sorts of activities with you

• she tries to flirt with you, but instantly freezes up and gets flustered the second you fire off a comment back

• her love languages are without a doubt physical touch and words of affirmation. her hands are always on you, hugging you, holding you and she's constantly showering you in praises and affections

• she constantly pulls you into the pranks that she and cassandra like to play around the castle which leads to a lot of chaos ensuing, even more so when bela catches wind of your plots..

• she's awful at cooking, period. you swear she could burn water, but she tries to improve for you

• she's 100% a switch, but she leans more on the submissive side

[reorientation]

love the idea of having my male best friend slowly change his mind about my lesbianism. I came out really young (15) and never did anything with boys and my best friend, as we get older, begins to fantasize more and more about me and just decides that lesbianism can't be real and that I'd fuck him if I weren't so proud and stubborn. I'm none the wiser to the development, outwardly he's supportive, there to comfort me through my break ups and unwise situationships. finally one night I decide I've been neglecting our friendship too much for girls who keep playing with me, and we plan a night where we stay in and chill like we did as teenagers, only this time with some hallucinogens.

we watch one of our favorite movies and I take a low dose and start tripping after half an hour. not heavy visuals or anything, just sensation. I'm a little out of it, feeling this wave like sensation over my whole body, and I struggle to tune back in because something is definitely going on. when I focus again I realize our movies is no longer playing on the tv, instead there's a video of a man bending a younger girl over doggy style and fucking her so hard she moans uncontrollably as her tits bounce. between my legs aches and I realize he's teasing my clit through my panties, fluttering feeling moving all over my body and making me shudder.

"wh-what are you doing?" I stutter.

"shhhh just enjoy it." he says.

I can't even think. he dips his fingers below my panties and touches me, sending that aching feeling to a ten, making my clit throb and my vulva twitch.

"you're already so fucking wet." his voice is strange next to my ear, like it's very close and very far at the same time, "I knew you'd want this."

"n-no," I gasp as he plays with my pussy. I can't control my body enough to get his hand away, and the sensation is so different, so strange that I can't get myself to stop it, I just want to know how it'll feel next.

he slides his fingers inside me while he plays with my clit, pumping them in and out. his other hand goes under my shirt and gropes me all over, eventually grabbing my tits. he pushes my t-shirt up. I'm braless because we're wearing our pjs, just an oversized t-shirt, thin tiny shorts, and knee socks. he leaves my shirt pulled up over my tits, which is so embarrassing, and pinches one of my nipples before taking my other breast in his mouth.

I don't realize I'm whining, "oh my god, oh, oh my god, please, what are you-- what are you-- fffffuck-- what are you doing to me?"

the sucking sensation on my nipple is too much. my aching cunt tightens around his fingers and a warm wave spreads all over me as I come.

he starts to reposition me on my back and that's when I snap back to myself. I protest and struggle, "what are you doing? what's gotten into you? please, please, you have to stop."

my body works a little more and I start to squirm and push against his chest. he's gotten me beneath him, on my back on the couch. he forces my legs apart and shoves me down roughly.

"shut up, you want this you fucking slut. you think real lesbians come on men's fingers?"

he shoves the fingers he had inside me in my mouth before I can answer, and the drugs pulse through me, making me helpless. I can only suck on his fingers as I make vague noises of protest.

he rubs his cock over my clit and my whole body twitches. "that's it, what a good little lesbian. I'm gonna make you come on my cock."

I shake my head in panic. he takes his fingers out and uses his hand to push his cock hard against my slit as he slides it back and forth, teasing my clit with the head of his cock. my face gets hot and my cunt throbs.

"no-- n-n---n--n-n--" I gasp and whine. his cock is long and thick, hot and hard. I've never felt anything like it.

he slides it in and I scream. I don't even know what makes me scream: the immediate white hot pleasure, the pain, or the betrayal. he stretches me slowly, pushing himself little by little inside as I arch up and struggle for breath, making sounds I've never made before.

"fuck you're so tight. you're like a virgin." he says, his eyes darkening the more he pushes inside. I see a thought light up in his face, "oh my god, you are a virgin."

"no-- I-- I--" he shuts me up, forcing his mouth on mine. he bottoms out deep inside me, the head of his cock against my cervix, making me sting and strain deep, deep in a place I've never been touched. he kisses me and I try to pull away, to refuse, as he tries to force my mouth open.

he pulls his hips back and nearly pulls all the way out, a motion that leaves my cunt pounding as I moan against his mouth, then he slams himself deep inside and I scream, and he takes advantage of my now open mouth, pushing his tongue inside and forcing mine to swirl with his, rub together, as he lulls inside my mouth. he starts fucking into me in similar slow yet forceful way, not letting my body get away from him, not letting me refuse anything.

as he fucks me I can feel my body heating up. my thighs begin to shake as I try hard to deny the orgasm mounting. he sucks my tongue as he pounds deep and I begin moaning and whimpering in gibberish.

"that's it, come for me you fucking slut. this is what you were made for. I've heard enough about those stupid little sluts you think you're in love with, take it, take it, like a good lesbian."

I'm gasping as he rams harder into me with each word. the feelings are so intense tears come to my eyes. he grabs my breasts as he beats his cock deeper into me and I can't stop myself, I come on his cock harder than I've ever come in my life. so hard I cry out.

he pounds me through my orgasm and just as the first ends the next one begins, overlapping waves. I arch off the couch as he fucks me, screaming, my cunt clenches around him.

I collapse back down, completely fucked out of my mind. I've never come like that before.

"what a good little lesbian cockslut." he whispers in my ear as I lay dazed beneath him. his cock is still inside me, sliding in and out just a little bit to keep a frustrating sensation going within me. "who's a good lesbian?"

I close my eyes and whimper as his stroke gets longer.

"tell me who's the good little lesbian that came on her rapist's cock?"

my knee are still so weak and my legs still so shaky.

"say it." he demands.

"no," I say weakly.

he flips me over on my knees and pushes me down into the couch by my shoulders, so I'm face down, ass and cunt presented to him. it's a humiliating position.

he slaps my ass hard and I yelp.

"say it."

"no!"

he slaps me again, hard smarting burn on my outer thigh that starts to feel a little good, but still too painful.

"say it."

before he can bring his hand down again, I shout, "I'm a good lesbian! I'm the good lesbian that came on my rapist's cock."

"good girl." he sighs, and puts his cock again at my entrance. "now this time when I put my cock in you, you're going to say, 'thank you, daddy'."

"please, please," I whimper, "please don't do this."

"please don't do this, daddy." he corrects.

I can feel his hand lift again and I rush out, "please don't do this, daddy."

he pushes his head inside and I whine, "ffffuck, fuck--"

"what do you say?" he slides himself deeper.

"thank you, daddy, fuck, fuck, thank you, daddy," he slides evenly inside me as I scramble inside myself for some composure. my legs are so weak, already so wobbly.

"who's gonna rape your pretty little virgin pussy straight?"

he starts pounding into me with new strength. I'm a wailing, moaning mess beneath him, my own juices running down my thighs as he rams my cunt hard and deep.

"you are, daddy," my eyes are rolling back in my head, "fuck, daddy, you're gonna fuck me straight. fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," I don't even know what I'm saying anymore, only that I don't want him to hit me again, and maybe, though I can't take it, I can't have him stop right now.

he pounds my pussy brutally, fucking hard and fast as I scream nonsense into the couch and he speaks low and dark, "I'm gonna fuck the lesbian out of you, you stuck up little bitch, turn you into my good girl, my little slut, who's gonna be my little slut?"

"please-- please, daddy, make me your little slut, fuck the lesbian out of me, daddy, please--"

I come on his cock again, and this time I gush everywhere. I've never done that before, and I can't stop myself from nearly collapsing.

he keeps fucking me and I realize too late that his thrusts are getting more desperate, more sporadic. "daddy, please, you can't come inside me."

just then he grabs my hips and forces himself as deep as he can, ramming against my cervix. I orgasm, a blackout rolling through me, as he spills his come spills hot and deep inside me.

he drops me down on the couch, used and limp. after a few minutes of laying dazed, I notice again the tv, a woman riding a man's cock, lost in the pleasure, throwing her head back and riding desperately as she moans.

he fucks me for the rest of the night, in all different positions: over the side of the couch, doggystyle, prone. at one point I wake up and he's pushing himself inside me from behind as I lay on my side. the drugs make me come over and over, make all kinds of crazy words fall out of my mouth.

the next morning I wake up and he's not there. I leave and decide to never speak to him again.

but a week later he shows up at my door and I let him in so he can throw me against it, rip off my panties, and fuck me there against the door as I groan, "nonononononono I'm a lesbian I can't do this nonono daddy please--"

"I know. now come for me like a good lesbian."

This is an ask just about as much as you're a lesbian - but it's a very hot story, little dyke, and I'd love to see the adorably confused look on your face as you came helplessly, over and over, on your new man's bare cock.

[bonefall]

i found a god awful doc about this one person (who, too, is a god awful being) trying to reason why mudClaw would be a bad leader. I'ma try to find the doc but meanwhile I'll submit this because someone could have the link, I'll need your honest thought about it bcs why are we defending oneWhiker now

Anon, buddy, I'm gonna have to sit you down and gently discourage you from casually calling random human people "god awful beings" in my inbox like this. Not when you're just talking about relatively basic media analysis. That isn't ok or normal.

I hope that when I speak harshly, it's coming from a place of condemning hurtful actions and the tangible harm that they cause. I don't appreciate people trying to get me to directly beef with other people directly by requesting I break down their individual posts or analysis documents (when I ask for people to share links, it's so I can see and prepare to counter the ideas because they usually "float downstream" if they get popular); but in a second ask, you linked this document and there's nothing harmful in it. In fact, it's got a far more neutral tone than I'd take if I was writing an analysis about Mudclaw.

If you couldn't tell the difference between a document like this and one that contains active abuse apologia rhetoric, I would be filled with concern. But I don't think you read it. I think you maybe skimmed it and stopped reading, or just heard the title.

Because this document literally says this;

and your takeaway, something you felt so strongly about that you came to me hoping I'd validate it, was "Why Are We Defending Onewhisker Now."

Art is a tool we can use to explore our own biases, and teach us something about ourselves. That overwhelming sense of anger and disgust that you probably felt when you saw "Mudclaw Would Be A Bad Leader" made you jump to an emotional conclusion and you assumed something that was not said. I know the feeling. You might have had a reactionary impulse.

You are not a bad person for doing that-- you're human. You can grow.

Why did it upset you this much, though? Is there something very personal about this that set you off? ...are you spending a lot of time in spaces online that keep you angry? These are questions for you to reflect with.

I do not know the owner of this document or "what they've done," if anything, so I will not link it, because their Discord is at the bottom of the doc. If they are truly a "god awful being", please do not engage, just block and move on. Nothing is accomplished by following around 'A Bad Guy' and boosting their cat takes.

But something VERY bad WOULD be accomplished if I indulged an anon for a situation I know nothing about and unwittingly became part of a harassment campaign. How do I know that you've got good intentions?

I usually just delete unsolicited links to docs and videos that are 'fightbaiting' like this-- trying to get me to beef publicly with a 3rd person. But I've seen more of these than usual lately so I would like to try and cool it down.

[intrepidacious]

bring your hunger

summary: There is a Witcher in your house.

pairing: geralt of rivia x succubus!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: smut (18+ only!!), light dubcon due to demon magic, penetrative sex (p in v), some biting and choking 😌 please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: somehow it's been over a year since i posted a full fic but one ao3 writer's curse later here we are. whole new fandom. i've also never written smut until this show rewired my brain so bon appétit (please be kind). my biggest love to @aphrogeneias and @brandycranby who both let me complain about this story for about three months, i adore you!!

masterlist | read on ao3

There is a Witcher in your house.

You smell him long before you lay your eyes on him, the stench of his magic permeating the forest, harsh and acrid. Somewhere in the woods nearby, something is burning.

For a moment, you hesitate, considering your options. A lesser creature would’ve turned on the spot and run, would’ve stolen a horse in the nearby town and gotten as far away as possible, and maybe you should be doing the same. Forsake your home and this region and try to forget them to save your neck.

But your instincts are never wrong, and right now they are drawing you closer, one cautious step in front of the other, until your door creaks open.

He’s sitting in your chair, turned to the side to have a clear view of the entrance. He is propped up against the dining table, his matted white hair sticking to his forehead. The air is heavy with the smell of blood and sweat. Whatever happened across him managed to get him good; he seems to have bandaged himself up, somehow, but the gashes in his chest look painful.

He stares at you, frown deepening on his face, but he stays very still. There is a dangerous look in his amber eyes, full of fire and fury, and for some reason, that doesn’t scare you. Not at all.

Gods, you’re hungry.

There’s a steady pulse of power coming from him, muted but incessant, like his body’s not ready to drop the fight quite yet. He doesn’t, however, reach for the weapons he’s carelessly dropped on your good carpet.

So instead of fleeing, you draw the door shut behind you and you tilt your head.

It’s stronger now, the smell of your own powers. You don’t think it holds as much sway over Witchers as it would do over mere mortals, but it’s still enough for him to white-knuckle the edge of the table.

"I know what you are," he grits.

The low timbre of his voice makes you grin.

"That makes us even, then." You get closer to him, gingerly stepping over his swords. "Are you going to do something about it?"

His nostrils flare a little, but apart from that his face stays unreadable. Only his eyes betray him, still trained on your lips. He can’t help himself.

"I don’t kill your kind," he says.

"How generous of you." You come to a halt between his legs, reaching out to tilt his chin towards you.

He lets you, and there’s the slightest hint of amusement hidden at the corner of his mouth. From up close, the fire in his eyes burns even brighter.

"Let me show my appreciation," you say lowly.

His scent changes ever so slightly with the first small spike of his arousal. It sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

Your fingers trail down his throat, along his broad shoulders, down the taut muscles of his back, leaning into him even more. His hands fall to your hips, almost involuntarily. Slowly, unhurriedly, you let your nose brush against his and he inhales with a shudder.

This is always your favourite part. The final moments before they give into their desire, your meal prepared and served up on a silver platter, ready to indulge in.

"Don’t," he says, barely a warning.

"Don’t what?" You can feel his breath against your smile.

"Don’t tease."

"No?" He’s got remarkable restraint, this Witcher; but you can hear his racing heart. "Alright then."

And between one moment and the next, you let your clothes disappear.

It’s a simple trick, one that everyone of your kind can do as easily as blinking, but it’s never failed you. His eyes turn even darker as he realizes what you’ve done, as you move back a little to let him take you in. You lick your lips as another waft of his arousal reaches your nose.

Delicious.

"Is that better?" you whisper, tipping your head to the side.

He doesn’t reply. He pulls you towards him sharply, and then his mouth crashes against yours, hard and sudden. One of his hands grabs your ass, hauling you into his lap while the other one cradles the nape of your neck.

It’s a brutal kiss, divinely ferocious. Your naked core brushes over the noticeable bulge in his pants and he groans. You move your hips back and forth, just enough friction to make his fingers curl, nails biting into your skin.

This, you think, this is just what you’ve been craving. This sense of presence, of awareness. Your heartbeats growing faster. Pulling, tasting, wanting. More.

You only break the kiss to undo his belt, and he chases after your lips, hazy, starving.

You can relate.

He is already rock hard when you pull him out of his pants, ready and leaking. He pushes into your touch, raw need taking over.

You let out an appreciative hum, positioning yourself in his lap, careful not to put too much pressure on his chest. You want him to feel good, after all, no: you need him to.

You haven’t been sated in so long.

"Witcher," you chuckle breathlessly as his arms tighten around you, caging you against his body. "Aren’t you supposed to kill wicked, evil things like me?"

He growls, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You gasp as he drags his tongue over the bite marks immediately; like he’s savouring your taste, too.

When he looks up at you again, his eyes are like molten embers.

Your hand tangles in his hair and you yank his head back to kiss him again, swallowing the sound he makes when you sink down on him, and it’s a pity, really, because you could get your fill from that alone. It’s delectably salty and bitter.

Finally, he’s fully inside you, and he tilts his hips to allow you a better angle as you start moving.

"So good for me," you murmur.

He slaps your hand away when you try to slip it between your bodies, and then his own fingers find your clit, gently teasing at first, but quickly applying more pressure. You gasp, your walls clenching around his cock.

He lets out a breathless huff. "There, huh?"

"That’s it. Just like that."

It’s too much. Your breaths quicken as the air around you starts to hum and crackle with building energy. It’s making your head swim, each precise stroke to your clit bringing you closer to that edge you’re chasing.

His mouth still trails along your neck, nipping there. Your skin already feels sticky with sweat and magic as you’re hurled ever closer to the peak of your arousal.

Just as the tension in your core gets tight enough to snap, he stills completely. His cock is fully sheathed inside you, but he doesn’t move, his arms around you hard and unyielding, not even allowing a single roll of your hips. Something between a whine and a growl escapes your lips as your canines come down hard enough to draw blood.

The Witcher smiles at you hazily. "Do you want to come, little demon?"

You want to bite him. You want to suck out his energy until he’s nothing more than a sad, empty husk.

Your snarl only brings out a dark glint in his eyes, and his hand moves to your neck, forcing you to hold his gaze. His grip tethers you in your denied pleasure.

"Ask nicely," he says lowly, brushing his lips against yours.

Wicked, evil man.

Underneath your skin, your powers are brimming with unease, not yet refilled, not yet repleted; he knows this. You know he knows, and yet you’re unwilling to give in. "Or what?"

His grin widens just a fracture as his chin juts out in unmatched arrogance. You could burn it off his face. You could dig your claws into the gashes in his chest and widen them even more, feast on his blood instead.

"I know you need it," he says. His cock twitches inside you. "Beg."

A shiver goes down your spine, hot and cold at the same time.

You don’t beg. Ever. You don’t yield control, not even for your meal, especially not to someone like him. But then he expertly applies pressure to your throat and your eyes roll back in your head, all thoughts lost to the thick haze of your desire.

"Please," you whimper, clenching around him again. "Please fuck me."

He groans, hips stuttering into yours involuntarily before he moves in earnest, keeping his hand on your throat. It’s almost agonisingly slow at first, one roll of his hips almost letting him slip out of your cunt completely before he pushes back in with one single, firm stroke.

Your startled cry of pleasure gets stifled by his mouth, coaxing, biting, until your claws dig into the thick muscles on his shoulders. The arm around your back guides your movement, pressing you even closer to his body than before as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over.

You’re so close. You can already taste the precipice, black stars dancing along the edge of your vision.

Another moan rips out of you when you come apart for air, mouths open. "That’s it," he pants, watching you through half-lidded eyes, "Come for me."

His voice cracks with rapture, and it’s that more than the feeling of his own climax that sends you over the edge.

This part of your nature never gets old: As the orgasm rushes through you, the pent-up energy surrounding you snaps like lightning, funnelling into your body like an invisible current until you shudder blissfully with your appetite sustained. Your magic crackles around you, dancing on your burning skin like sparks of fire.

You hum appreciatively, your eyes still closed as you take a moment to collect yourself. This day has taken a pleasantly surprising turn, after all. It’s been too long since you’ve felt so thoroughly sated.

However, when you try to move out of his lap, the Witcher’s grip on you tightens decisively.

"Is that it?"

Your eyes fly open.

He is breathing heavily, but despite his loss of blood and the energy you’ve pulled from him, there’s not a trace of exhaustion to be found. He still has that same dangerous twinkle in his gaze. Fire and fury. Something lurches in your stomach.

"I thought your kind’s supposed to be insatiable," he says, leaning in to nuzzle at your collarbone. His medallion bumps against your breasts with a sharp vibration as his fingers trail down your side, a slow, torturously delicate touch. "You can give me one more."

It’s not a question. Still, the hands parting your legs even further are almost as gentle as they are relentless. A light press to your overstimulated clit has you keen, spasming around his cock, and he chuckles lowly.

"Eyes on me."

You hadn’t even noticed they’d fallen shut again. You’re leaning heavily into him now, another wave of pleasure starting to build as the smell of his magic envelopes you.

He growls, moving both of you around so you’re spread open on your dining table, him leaning over you with a look that wants to devour you whole. Like you’re the one being served up for him to make a meal out of. Impossibly, he’s growing hard again as his deft hands coax you closer to your next release.

"Just one more."

It’s such an obvious lie, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re brimming with energy, dizzyingly replenished and yet still ravenous. The air is humming with it, the promise of more.

"Don’t lie to me, Witcher," you still gasp.

His smile is positively sinful. "You said it yourself. I’m just so generous."

You’re so full. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his aura flickering with lust, rich and decadent and beautiful.

"In other words," he continues, his lips brushing your ear right as you reach your peak again. "We are just getting started."

this fic was brought to you by horny hyperfixations. reblogs and comments are what keep your local writers sustained!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics to get notified whenever i post 💛

[starlightsuffered]

Professor Chalamet

Pairing - Timothée Chalamet/Fem!Reader

Warnings - Teacher and student (duh), oral (male and female receiving), secret relationship, spanking, name calling, needing to be quiet. Unprotected sex, breeding kink, mentions of masturbation, dirty talk

"That is the meaning behind the character of Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream, you are dismissed," Professor Chalamet said.

"Except for you Y/N," he called to me. I gulped. Was today finally the day that he picked up on the not so subtle hints l'd been dropping?

Drama 101 had been interesting since the first morning | walked in, and saw Professor Chalamet. He was gorgeous. Piercing hazel eyes, sharp cheekbones, decadent curly hair. I was in heaven. I felt very happy that I'd arrived early out of anxiety. The two of us had, had a very nice conversation. Since then I'd made the very pornoesque decision, to get his attention.

He was just so damn stoic and calm. It seemed like nothing phased him. He never reacted. The semester was almost over, and I had no idea if I'd seen him again. I had to make a bold move. Our final was turning in a script for a short film. Our rough drafts had been due last week. I'd handed him "The Professor's Secret." A story about a Professor fucking his student. I'd even been so courageous as to name the Professor, Professor Chardonnay.

I was shaking with anticipation as I approached his desk. Students filed out of the classroom, giving me pitying looks. They didn't understand this was all I wanted. I shivered as I remembered the door locked itself when you went out.

"Y/n," Professor Chalamet called my attention back to him. I walked slowly to his desk. I made sure to swish my hips slightly. I was wearing a tiny, pink, skater skirt, and a white button down. I had dressed up just for him, and I desperately wanted him to know it.

"What is this?" He asked calmly, holding up my script.

"My rough draft sir," I said politely. He ran a hand over his face, and when I looked at him again, I was shocked.

The anger on his face was real and cold. Usually, he was all smiles and gentle words. This was different.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" He asked menacingly. This was going wrong, completely and utterly wrong. He was truly angry. What would he do? Would he tell the school board? Would I get kicked out? Fuck, why did I let my pussy do all the thinking? Now there's going to be a Fox News segment about me.

"Can you even comprehend how many times l've read this? How I've poured over it? I've cum so many times from this alone, it is haunting me," he explained desperately. My world was spinning at hearing him talk like this.

Thinking of him cumming to just my writing was mesmerizing. Imagine what I could do to him with my real self.

"What are you saying Professor?" | asked coyly as I walked closer to him slowly.

"Do you know how many papers I've neglected, to read this again and again?" He growled.

"Maybe you should punish me," I suggested.

He looked at me for a moment, then pinched the bridge of his nose with a pained look.

"I've tried my damndest this semester to not give into carnal pleasures. My resistance is reaching it breaking point."

"What if I want it to break?" I asked. I slowly, slowly, lowered myself to my knees in from of him. "What if I want to help it break."

or brother."

"Holy Hell," he gasped. "You can't tell anyone about this, not anyone you understand? Not a friend, not a sister

"Oh stop," I said squeezing his package. He shakily reached out to grab his desk.

"I want this as much as you do, why would I ruin the fun?"

He nodded, and unzippered his pants for me. My eyes bulged at his impressive length, and my mouth was watering. I took him in as far as I could go. I moaned as I felt his hand pulling on my hair. I sucked at him, moving up and down his cock. My spit was dripping down my chin, and onto the floor, but I wanted so badly to be good for him.

"Off," he commanded, and I whined as he removed his cock from me.

I stood up and he kissed me roughly, hands massaging my breasts that were still clothed. One of his hands went down to grab handfuls of my ass.

"Do you wear those slutty little outfits for me everyday?" He asked, after he'd pulled away.

"Yes, for you, all for you."

"So, you're just fine with distracting your Professor, while he's trying to make a living," he growled.

"Did it work?" I asked.

"You little minx," he pushed me away from him. He cleared a section of him desk, and pushed me down on it. He pushed up my skirt, and pulled down my thong. He hissed as he saw the wet patch he'd made me create.

"I'm getting my ruler, you stay there," he demanded. I did as I was told, lightly rubbing my thighs together for some sort of friction.

I heard the slap of the ruler on his hand as he approached me. I shivered with anticipation.

"You deserve punishment. Only bad girls rile up their professors in class, only bad girls write such filthy scripts."

A smack came down on my ass and I stifled a cry. He instantly was massaging the red skin.

"Were you worried I wasn't noticing the way you whored yourself out to me every class?"

Smack! Another blow had landed on my ass. I was loving the mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Please Professor, may I have another?" I asked desperately.

"No, only good students get what they want," he replied and there was no slap from the ruler. However, in seconds I was struggling not to scream out. He had gone under me, spread my legs, and was now devouring my heat with an expert tongue. I let out a mewl of pleasure and he stopped.

"Don't make a sound, slut, then everyone will know our secret."

"Yes, Professor Chalamet," | choked out. He continued to bless me with his tongue. I was nearing my orgasm. He stopped for a moment, and bit the skin of my inner thigh before returning to his task. I'm seconds I was coming undone, thighs clamping around his head with the effort not to scream.

He walked around so he was in front of me. My slick coated his face, and he wore it like a badge of honor. I was panting, sweat dripping down my temples.

"Like that did you?" He asked with a smirk.

"A+," | gasped. He chuckled, moving so he was behind me again.

"I hope that was enough to get you ready for me," he said.

"More than enough, please fill me," | begged. He pressed his tip to my entrance, and slowly pushed in. I relished how long it took him to bottom out inside me.

"Do you know how long l've imagined this" he asked as he began to snap his hips forward. I couldn't form the words to answer. My eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

"How many times l've wanted to cancel class and just have you in every way possible?"

I groaned, nails making marks in his wooden desk. I pressed my ass back to meet his thrusts and he let out a moan of approval.

"I know you thought the same of me. The way you'd eye fuck me from across the room was almost too much to handle. Did you go back to your dorm after and touch yourself? Did you play with your pretty pussy to the thought of me y/n?"

"Yes," it took all I had not to scream.

"I have an alternate ending for your script," he told me as he reached around to play with my clit. I bit down hard on my hand, it was the only way to keep silent. The only things to hear in the room was the wet sounds of us and his low, whispered, filthy words.

"What?" I managed to asked.

"I think the Professor should fuck his naughty student, that part can stay. But I think he should fill her everyday, every free period. She should be bursting with him. She would walk around campus so full of him that it's leaking down her thighs."

"Fuck," I said against my hand. I knew I would leave deep teeth marks there.

"Wouldn't it be delicious if she got pregnant? She wouldn't be able to tell anyone whose cum she was carrying around. No one would know who bred her cunt so well that she was completely full. She would have to keep it undercover as he filled her over and over."

"I can't," I gasped, and I was tumbling into a orgasm filled with shining stars and white hot pleasure. I couldn't contain myself and Professor Chalamet had to clap his hand over my mouth, yet he continued to rub circles on my pulsating clit.

"You want my cum? Im going to fill you," he moaned as I continued to squeeze around him. He spilled into me, rope after rope of cum pumping into me.

"Fuck," he said under his breath as he pulled out. I felt some of him spill out of me onto the floor.

"You are to have tutoring session with me every day of the school week, do I make myself clear?" He demanded.

"Yes Professor Chalamet," I said with giddy joy.

"Call me Timothée."

[stellarxdeath]

I've seen a handful of posts lately saying that the writers of IWTV have butchered Claudia's character and/or wrote her poorly, things of that ilk; lamenting how dirty she was done by the skill of the writers. Now that I'm all caught up and s2 is finished [ sob ] I... Have some choice thoughts on this perspective.

Number one being that Claudia was explicitly doomed by the narrative the moment she'd been introduced to it. Her death is referenced but not outright stated initially, moreso implied, but the writing makes no mistake in telling us that Claudia, the Child Vampiress, will die. She's not potentially out there somewhere, she's not in hiding, she is dead, and she will never be able to tell us the whole of her truth beyond her diaries.

The second issue that the "IWTV Writers bad" crowd seems to forget is that, Even with the diaries, this is ultimately Louis' story, and the gaps in perspective are inevitably filled by him and eventually Armand, but never Claudia. She was disregarded because time and time again, Louis disregarded her for Lestat, and then for Armand; She was betrayed by the coven she professed her love for with a horrible, terrible, calculated eagerness because of Louis coming in and fucking with the coven dynamic; Regardless if that dynamic was healthy or not.

What Claudia and Louis had was precious, but it was also deeply, deeply flawed. He can effectively be blamed for her death, drawn all the way back to the riots incited by his choice to kill Fenwick; Was Louis justified in doing so? Yeah, abso-fucking-lutely, but this doesn't change the fact that his choices directly damned her to die.

Third is the claim that Claudia went from lethal and independent to desperate and weak? When? No?? Again I'm loosely paraphrasing some posts I've seen and attempting to take them in good faith; Claudia, from season one, was very interested in finding other Vampires, she was hellbent on it, and unfortunately it lead her to Bruce aka "The Motherfucker."

Her attempt to take Louis with her to Europe in s1 was in service of that goal. Claudia wanted to escape Lestat, she wanted to save Louis, and she wanted to find her people. She even tried to make her own Vampires despite being a fledgling! She has always wanted community, and I'd go as far as to say she was so strong because she could only rely on herself for so goddamn long, Louis being trapped under Lestat's thumb even after Lestat came crawling back in the later half of s1.

I understand that Claudia is a fan fave and people very rightly wished for her to live - the thing I have a gripe with is that some are taking this love for her and making it more important than the story itself. Interview With The Vampire is a tale of regret, trauma and abuse, a story of how memories are monsters and to be a Vampire is to be damned to the Odyssey of recollection, and if you don't survive, your memory will always inevitably be twisted over time. A life in eternity is a life full of pain.

The fact that people are so upset over the unfairness of her life is the intended effect; You are supposed to be upset that she is doomed, the writers of IWTV did a fucking fantastic job of making you feel that way - however, blaming the writers and crying "Bad writing" over the intended reaction feels just a tad silly to me.

As another post put it: Louis loved Claudia so much, but it was never enough. Everyone in Claudia's life except for Madeline betrayed her, her vampyric rebirth was the bandaid to a shitty vampyric marriage, she was denied her own life and Armand the Ancient fucking Coven Leader did nothing to save her; so much so that she was a goddamn Sacrifice so that Louis may live instead. Disregarded. Doomed. Damned. The injustice is meant to piss you off, I beg of those who think the Writers fucked up to simply sit with that feeling. Sit with the injustice. In the end, it's all any of us can do.

[zarvasace]

Shatterproof four splitting and all the colors spend their day with different other links? Maybe Blue with Wind and Wild, Vio with Wars and Hyrule, Red with Time and Legend and Green with Sky and Twillight! (just suggestions, you can mix and match them up maybe?)

I like these suggestions! :)

Just under 1k words—

---

“On your mark,” Wind says, “get set…”

Blue glares at the grassy ground, his muscles taut and brimming with energy. It's been several long weeks since Four split, and he's pent-up. Beside him, Wild’s heel shifts against the ground. 

“Go!” Wind slashes his hand through the air, and Blue and Wild take off. 

The route isn’t long, just across the clearing and back, so Blue is optimistic. It feels so good to stretch out, even if his pain is at a mid-level today. His feet pound against the tall grass and the hard dirt beneath, and though he tries, Wild pulls ahead. 

On the way back, Blue’s foot catches in a divot, and he goes sprawling. He scrapes his elbows but manages to stop himself before he flies too far. The world stops rolling. He stares up at the cloudy sky and sighs. 

Wild skids to a stop. “Blue! You okay?” 

“Fine,” Blue calls back, rolling up to sitting. And then, with a secret thrill of joy that he would never hold over any of the others’ heads, even if they know he feels it, he stands up. “I think I'm just out of practice. And your legs are longer anyway, freak, so you have an unfair advantage!” 

“Hey,” Wild protests, but he laughs. He hasn't made it to the other end of the clearing yet, worried for Blue. Wind raises his eyebrows when he meets Blue’s eyes. 

Blue walks calmly over, letting himself limp just a little. He laughs along with Wild. “It's just been a while since I ran, that's all.”

“Yeah, okay, I'll give you that,” Wild shrugs. 

And then Blue takes off again. He runs the last five or six steps to their designated finish line. “HA! I WON!” 

“Now that's unfair!” Wild says, jogging over. 

Wind collapses into laughter. 

---

At this point, after so many lessons and a lot of practice, Vio is only slightly better at signing than Hyrule. He's very happy for Hyrule, of course, but it does rankle his pride just a little, so he takes up Warriors on his invitation and joins the next little lesson. 

As he observes Warriors and Hyrule have a half-silent conversation, it becomes obvious that their communication is less about learning actual sign words or grammar and more about figuring out how to adapt it for the two of them. Everything Warriors says has to be in contact with Hyrule’s skin, one way or another, so Vio doesn't catch most of that. 

But Hyrule’s signs are pretty normal, since Warriors can see them, except for one thing. 

“That—” Vio starts, then bites his tongue.

“What?” Hyrule says. “Was that wrong?” 

“Um, only in that your spelling is… off.”

“It doesn't matter,” Warriors shrugs, hands flying. “I've figured out his phonetics.”

Vio makes a face. “Wars says it doesn't matter, he knows what you're saying anyway, but the perfectionist in me is frustrated.”

Hyrule laughs. “Sorry. I haven’t ever, you know, learned letters before. I figured I was getting some of it wrong.”

“You know,” Vio says thoughtfully, thinking back to his books at home, “I know there's a type of writing that was developed by people with low vision. I don't know much about it, but I know it exists in my time. I wonder if we could find some of it.”

“Oooooh,” Hyrule says, his eyes widening. 

---

Red picks another dandelion at the base of its stem, close to the ground. “And then you use your fingernail to make a little slit by the flower, like this! You can't make it too big, though.” He demonstrates, smiling at the way both Time and Legend lean in to see better. 

“And then…” He slides the stem of his next dandelion through the hole in the first. “Ta da!” 

“So pretty similar to a normal wildflower chain,” Legend says, copying Red and starting a dandelion chain of his own. “Do you ever put knots in it?” 

Red hums, considering. “No, I think these stems would break. They're tough but don't bend very well.”

“Sort of like Legend,” Time says, smiling. 

Legend huffs, but he can't hide the little smile of his own. “Sure. Whatever.” 

When Red finishes his dandelion chain, he loops it around into a crown and drops it right on Legend’s fluffy head. Legend returns the favor, putting his own dandelion chain on Red’s head, except it's a bit too wide, and it falls to his neck instead. 

Legend’s snort-laugh starts off a round of laughter that Red and Time can't easily shake. 

---

Twilight pulls out the shopping list again, adjusting his hold on the bag that sits over one shoulder as he does so. “So is that everything?” 

“Hm?” Sky says, looking back over at Twilight. “Oh. Yes. I think so.”

Green catches up, weighed down a little by a supply pack of his own on his back and the fact that even using crutches, he’s a bit short. “Wait, no, Wind needs a belt, and I need some more brass rivets.” 

Sky snaps his fingers. “Right, rivets! Hey, Wind didn't say anything about a belt… did he?” He glances at Twilight, who shakes his head.

“Wars keeps inventory,” Green explains. “And I noticed.”

Twilight puts away the shopping list. “Sounds like a trip to the leatherworks, then.”

Green eyes Twilight as he passes. “You could use a new sword belt, too. Let's see if they have anything with the D-rings. If not, I'll make one.” 

“Thanks, Green. What would we do without you?"

"Suffer."

[anxresi]

They're absolutely right...

...It's the writers that deserve the lion's share of the backlash, for poor, innocent, boring-as-hell Zoe is merely a tool of the oppressor, aka Mr Astruc. What's being oppressed, you may well ask? Well, interesting storylines, proper continuity, two-dimensional personalities... I could go on. Everything that makes a show compulsive and rewarding viewing that Miraculous Ladybug conspicuously and utterly lacks in every department due to his increasingly destructive machinations, basically.

This pink-streaked plot device masquerading as a serious character can (along with another equally pointless individual called 'Soquerline' who was so unmemorable I almost forgot she was ever a thing) exists for one reason and one reason only: to diminish Chloe's relevance and role in the show to the sum of precisely nothing. Well after S5, job done I guess guys. Well done. Well done indeed. (Although apparently not... they're bringing Miss Bourgeois back for more torture in the London 'special'. Guess Tommy Boy just can't keep away from his favorite punching bag, can he?)

The irony is though, having such a super-sweet but dull-as-ditchwater Mary Sue to replace a well-established and multi-layered person such as Chloe actually sends out a seriously awful message. Why? Because if I was a bad kid and saw S1-3 Chloe, I'd think 'what a fascinating redemption arc, I can inspired by that and do better.' But after seeing S4-5 Chloe and what an arguable downgrade as a replacement the incredibly tedious Zoe is, I'd be more like 'well, obviously there's no point in trying to be good, because you'll probably turn into a psychopath overnight with no explanation in the middle of your genuine efforts to improve. And if what the show is presenting to me as the ideal for a teenage girl to be is the waste-of-blank-space that Zoe clearly is... then a life of deliquency sounds more tempting with every passing minute! Now, where did I put my spray can?'

The most shameless aspect to this whole argument though, is by those trying to paint the hapless Zoe as some kind of lesbian icon. Pardon? She got a plot-mandated crush on Marinette in one episode and somehow that makes her insipid and needless presence an asset for the gay community? Somehow a few people have got it into their heads if you 'dare' to make someone non-straight in cartoons these days you deserve a big pat on the back for that 'risk' alone. WRONG. They should also be fleshed-out, complex, necessary characters whose sexuality isn't just define them or deflect from deserved criticism as to what the hell they are doing there if they turn up in the middle of proceedings with no prior explanation. See: The Owl House for how it's done.

And that's all Zoe being gay is... an irrelevant trait Mr Astruc can point to cynically and say ' you're a bigot for disliking her whatever your reasons are, so I'm not listening to you' instead of engaging with the actual argument which is SHE IS NOT AND WAS NEVER NEEDED IN THE SHOW. Everything you required to make Chloe the brilliant character she could've been was RIGHT THERE in the script but you CHOSE to rub it all out and scrawl some hastily scribbled doodle with no personality other than being 'very nice' in her place. A tragedy. The worst case of self-vandalism I've ever seen. No wonder Jeremy Zag wants to start from scratch with his rebooted movies. More power to him, IMHO.

Needless to say, nearly all the above in the quoted post about her father loving her (we haven't met him yet, it's DEFINITELY not Andre Bourgeois, his name ends in 'Lee' for a start) her supposed growth (the only 'growth' she's had is when she turned into that giant golden Chloe after being akumatized) her alleged pansexuality (all in the desperate mind of the OP) her 'abusive' family (I think you'll find Chloe had it FAR WORSE over the course of the show in that regard, so why not idolise her?) is complete bunkum. and to be frank I couldn't compose a much delusional post if I tried. Sometimes I wonder: what planet are some people on to reach such implausible conclusions? I don't understand it, I'll never understand it and quite frankly I feel quite sorry for the arbiters of such risibly deluded takes.

Last but not least though, we have...

Now this I ALSO agree with 1000%. And I know just the place to 'flush' her... ;)

[thatbitcheryextras]

Even though I am still young, I have an important position at work in the hierarchy. What brands/pieces could I wear to look professional but feminine ?

My personal sryle would be something sexy, but at work I know I must keep classy. However, I do not want to look too grown up/uptight.

Also, skirts are prohibited at my workplace. What do you think ?

funny thing, my coaching client & I are working on fashion, image and branding right now it's weird how I got this ask lollollol

Stay as farrrrrrrr away from popular brands as you can. You could get away with classier ones, say, Tom Ford or Tommy Hilfiger and maybe some Ralph Lauren but that's still risky. The running stereotype is that young escorts get paid in designer items, so to see a very young girl in one automatically triggers that thought. It's corporate version of "OF?". You could have a good quality chanel pin knock off but that's as far as you go. A birkin as an unmarried 20s girl is basically- bully me or ask for my price. Doesn't matter if your dad is Elon Musk. Also, do not outshine your masters, it's bad enough that you're younger than most of your colleagues do not further that by rich girl moonwalking. Your red bottoms are for your college parties as a signal to the boys to back off because they're too broke to even and this is obviously your standard.

Here's a personal favorite-local brands. Get your local tailor to make you well tailored a little oversize or well fitted clothes from high quality fabric/material. How well tailored and seamed and fitting your clothing is plus the type and quality of fabric communicates maturity & how Boujee you are and the lack of Versace brands has an old money ring to it. It's 2024 we all know the corporate friendly fabrics to use don't let me catch you on some polyester tweed bs.

I've said this before, femininity does not belong in a corporate setting. Corporate settings are innately masculine because they're innately hierarchical and competitive. Given that you're younger the last thing you want is to be sexy or feminine you're already a lamb in a den of wolves.maybe pearl stud earrings or dainty necklace that's the most I can think of.

Being younger you want to seem older and more mature. Have a lower, deeper, more powerful voice. Darker hair colors. Darker eye make up with little to only lip balm lip make up, and concealer. Why do you need blush in an office who are you trying to bang?? Nope. Blazers. High waisted pants with high heeled closed toe platform shoes (covered by your pants) to seem taller. Roll your shirt sleeves to your elbow & watches over bracelets. Don't smile much and sit upright. Depending on your skin color, undertones and color seasons go as dark with your clothes as you can. & If you ever wear dresses, maxi.

Hope this helps. Also, we are old enough to know the color theory and the theory of not do we not? If we aren't, we find out. We are all in fact too old for spoon-feeding.

[warblogs17282]

Going from Stolas being a disney princess -> horny Blitz -> the fight -> the next fight next episode -> oh shit i did something bad here for fucks sake -> attempt at apology -> Stolas kinda moving on -> ???

Has really set up the course of the season. In my mind, 2 things can happen.

They don't see each other at all. Stolas avoids Blitz, and Blitz is scared to do anything because he's trying to take Verosika's advice

They see each other far too much. Like they're both everywhere.

Now, both of these have potential... And I think both can lead to a voice messy argument (again) where both finally apologise and they both finally see the others side.

Thanks for the ask I like doing these :)

My prediction is this, it's going to start as 1 and progress into two, when it progresses I'm assuming the last episode, my guesses based on the trailer is that ghostfuckers is the Blitz trauma healing episode, with the line Blitz says overlayed onto the mental breakdown scene (it is not being said in that exact scene) being 'I destroy everything, I make everyone's lives worse.' I believe the leviathan demon (I think it is one anyways) makes Blitz face his traumas by some means, he's already shown to have strong powers (possession, shapeshifting, the painting thing), being forced to face those traumas seen in picture 2 and 3, could possibly lead up to the mental breakdown we see Blitz have in picture 1, or the other way around.

The episode after that I have nothing to really substantiate it but I've always had this theory in the back of my mind that Vassago is going to be more of a mentor/support figure to Stolas, as what Stolas needs more than one night stands is actual friends, what helps better if it's a person that can actually understand Stolas, down to the family he was born into, being the Goetia. Let's be real, the rom-com speech Stolas gave while drunk in apology tour? That's real telling about just how isolated Stolas is from the real world, romance does not work like a rom-com and Stolas needs to learn that asap. Plus Stolitz cannot get back together without Stolas realising his own problems as well. Blitz's butler imps comment in full moon and 'You get off to getting plowed by people you look down on.' the line before the one in the picture. It proves that Stolas has not learned from the night before, and that Stolas is still being accidentally racist to imps, Stolas doesn't know he's doing it but Blitz clearly hears and feels it, which in conjunction with the mess that was the party for Blitz, I'd imagine the most reasonable thing for the both of them to do at this point is go no contact while they learn from their mistakes and problems that prevent Stolitz from truly happening.

Which puts us into the last episode, my guess for it is this, something happens to Stolas beforehand, because there's no way purely Andrealphus set this up on his own, he's a lower rank than Stolas, potential Paimon involvement? Healthy communication happens for a bit, they get interrupted by the attack on Stolas, they somehow fend off the attack, then they continue to talk healthy or just realise how they both messed up hard and be good friends again at the very least. There is that Octavia scene in the trailer as well, maybe she's got something to do with the divorce proceedings and the sudden loss of Stolas' powers, most likely played like a puppet by Stella and Andrealphus, because her one line in the trailer is how her father never loved mother or Octavia (because Stolas cheated on Stella with Blitz), Octavia does not know about much of the abuse Stella gave Stolas, making Stolas seem like the bad guy to Octavia.

So yea that's my theory on where the rest of the season is going to go, starting off at 1 from here out and eventually progressing into 2 around the end. Again thanks for the ask, I enjoyed writing this :)

[marmota-b]

Glitch IS meant to be Force sensitive, here's why

Clone Trooper Glitch Who Is Definitely Force Sensitive.

As far as I can tell, everyone has fallen in love with that idea and everyone is now saying "Glitch is Force sensitive and you can't convince me otherwise."

Listen, what if I can actually convince you he is, with literary analysis?

I don't think I've ever seen this particular angle discussed (not that I have looked too hard, but no one ever brings it up when talking about Glitch). Everyone just loves the idea that he's Force sensitive because it's a lovely / exciting idea. And, okay, it's never stated outright in the source material, so there's some room for doubt. (And it was obviously intentionally left open-ended.)

BUT

I think the subtext, for those who know what it is, is so thick it might as well be an open admission of authorial intent. You see, Glitch's comic, Defenders of the Lost Temple, is drawing heavily on the Knights of the Old Republic comics in its lore. The Gauntlet they're sent to recover comes from that series. The moon where it resides is named after one of the characters from the series and likely is the moon he moved to at the end of his arc, and there's a statue of him there. There are all these deliberate, easily proven links to the series.

And there's also the less direct but still present parallel of questioning whether Jedi should be fighting in a war at all - Knights of the Old Republic (comics) takes place at the beginning of the Mandalorian Wars when some Jedi went to fight and others argued that wasn't their place, and some people get caught in the conflict without ever wanting to. That's a more dubious connection, and may not have been deliberate, but...

That is - the writer knew what he was doing here, in relation to previously published material.

The main protagonist of that series is Zayne Carrick.

Zayne is a sort of off-beat Jedi (well, almost-Jedi). He is just about Force sensitive enough to be admitted to the Jedi Order. He has "a special relationship with the Force." His special relationship with the Force mainly manifests in him being very clumsy and having the worst sort of luck. No one really thinks he'll make it as a Jedi. His own fellow padawan friends don't think he'll make it as a Jedi. But he's so good and caring and trying. And in the long run, he learns to work with his bad luck, and it turns out it's not so much a bad luck as the Force working... as a sort of swing, around him, with a balance of good and bad events. Things rarely work out as expected, but he learns to expect the unexpected. And once he does, and learns to ride the waves instead of trying to swim against the current, it actually works mainly in the heroes' favour.

Does that remind you of anyone?

Yep.

I'm pretty sure Glitch is a deliberate callback to Zayne Carrick and his special relationship with the Force.

I don't know if he started out that way from the start, or if the idea of "what if a clone was Force sensitive" came first and this theme just slotted into place later (honestly, the latter is probably likelier). But it's undeniably there; with all the other references to KOTOR, it's unlikely the author would have missed the main protagonist's character arc re: Force sensitivity.

Glitch has a special relationship with the Force exactly like Zayne's. He just has, unlike Zayne, also the bad luck of never having been tested for Force sensitivity. (This is all EU/Legends. Don't expect New Canon to stick to any of the above.)

[0nyxvesper]

Okay. I've stayed inactive for too long so here are my personal (keyword : personal) thoughts on different obey me characters starting with the brothers (in this order) ->

Lucifer and Mammon || Leviathan and Satan || Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor

Lucifer

• My second favorite

I really like his design and personality (Except for the red themed part of his design I feel like it doesn't make sense but I've talked about it in my Lucifer redesign post so go check it out <3 )

I often find his reactions and his way of thinking interesting but what I like the most about him is that tired pathetic overworked single father energy he has going on.

What I do dislike about him is that the game pushes the ''sadistic'' side of his character way to much in his relationship with his brothers. Like. What? Why??!

I understand that his sadistic side can be attractive if aimed towards the player, but his brothers??

We know for a fact that he's overprotective of his brothers and that he may act very strict but loves them unconditionally. So : why the fuck does the game highlight the ''sadistic heartless older brother that bullies his siblings thought weird punishments for any mistake that they make'' trope, like it's the direct opposite of Lucifer's intention...

Plus tying his brothers up feels extremely wrong and is weirdly suggestive?

So yeah. But other than that I just want to make him a coffee and give his a soft kiss on his forehead :)

Petnames I give him : Star, Stardust, Lu/Luce/Luci, Avatar of gays (dw)

Mammon

• I have mixed feelings about him

First of all, I LOVE his design. Dark skin + white hair as always been an amazing combination, he does not disappoint.

What I have mixed feelings about is his tsundere side. On one hand, it's pretty fucking adorable. Blushing pathetic men are amazing. Though once again, the game pushes that side of him far to much in my opinion like okay it's cute I agree but that's not the only interesting part of his personality pls give us other sides of him like yeah cool you ''don't even care if I get hurt or anything'' but I'm just here trying to stop your brothers from killing each other can you help please? Also the fact that his brothers always insult him is just there to be there cuz we know it hurts is feeling but we can't do anything about it other than insult him too or try to confort him like pls let me slap his siblings when they do that or give us a way to make it stop it's pissing me off.

They also don't make him show any remorse about his greed which feels very odd to me, like at the very least make him realize his mistakes or at least acknowledge the problems he caused. The idea that he can't stop himself from making the same mistakes over and over again because of his sin is good but make him a bit more self aware of it like he's not THAT dumb and I feel lile he does care. (especially when his mistakes ends up bothering and/or pissing off his brothers).

In conclusion, We know he has the biggest crush on us but don't make it his whole personality please, there's other very interesting parts of him that I didn't find explored anywhere and it's pretty disappointing.

Petnames : Mamms and Treasure

That's it for today, I'll post the next one as soon as my brain and motivation lets me!

Much love!

[giggly-squiggily]

I saw the hc drabble event and my SaneGiyuu has awoken…

A headcannon where, when Sanemi saw Giyuu smile for the first time it was as if he saw an angel- okay over exaggerating much but still, he’s been wanting to see it again and now that they’re together why not take that chance to see it again? Problem is Giyuu doesn’t know how to genuinely smile on command, so Sanemi thinks of another way to get him to smile. (And laugh)

Y'all all my ships are being FED this event! I've gotcha covered, anon! This was so fun to write AHH!

When Giyu smiled at him- it was like the very first sunrise. Sanemi felt his entire world brighten, the usual darkness that hung over him suddenly dimming at that gentle expression. He nearly forgot to breathe- completely spacing out of whatever conversation he was having at the moment as he lingered, the sight permanently burned into his brain.

“God, you have it bad, huh?” Obanai chided him, completely oblivious to his own hypocrisy.

It’s been some time since he’d seen it. Sanemi went on with his life, that expression far gone far too quick for his liking. He replayed it over and over again in his mind, but eventually that simply wasn’t enough. He needed to see it again, no matter what.

~~~

“Smile?” Giyu blinked, surprised by the request. Sanemi nodded.

“Yeah. Like- right now.” He knew it was an odd request, especially after he asked him to spar with him. He didn’t care. “Show me what you got.”

“Ugh..” Giyu nodded, furrowing his brows. He bared his teeth, awkwardly pushing his lips up. “Huh?”

Sanemi stared. Giyu felt defeated. “Sorry. I’m not good at this.”

“It’s fine- you just need the right motivation.” At his sudden tone, Giyu narrowed his eyes. Then he was on the ground, pinned and sat on as Sanemi drilled his fingers into his armpits. “Ngh!”

“Come on- don’t fight it!” He growled, snickering at Giyu’s stubborn expression. “You know you can’t hold out that long. I’ve seen you get tickled before.”

“Y-You can’t e-either!” The water Hashira grunted through his restrained mirth, earning a snarky “OI!” from the other. He reached out, wiggling his fingers against Sanemi’s knee in hopes of freeing himself. “T-There!”

“Gah! Ohoho hell nah! Yoohohu’re gonna get it- geheht OFF!” Sanemi switched tactics, dropping his hands to Giyu’s ribs. His fast fingers were far more effective here- Giyu abandoned fighting back as pulled his arms into himself, squirming at the touch. “Theheere, now LAUGH!”

“N-Nehever!” A giggle slipped, then another! Giyu was soon laughing in his hands, covering his face as he kicked his feet. “Stahhahhap!”

“Hah! Told you I’d break you!” Sanemi cheered, if not a bit breathless at the soft pillowy sounds Giyu let out. “This won’t do at all..” He reached out with one hand to gently pry off his hands, the other carrying on his tickles. “Come on, lemme see that- WHOA!”

The world flipped. Giyu used his training to turn the tables, quickly grabbing Sanemi’s wrists and pinning them on each side of his head. “Thehehehere!” Giyu exclaimed, giggling through his deep breaths. There it was; that beautiful smile Sanemi seeked for a long time. “I wihin-”

He was silenced when the Wind Hashira leaned up out of nowhere, kissing him. The Water Hashira seemed to freeze all over, not expecting the kiss. Sanemi felt his heart drop as he realized what he was doing. He quickly pulled away. “Shit. Sor-”

Giyu dropped his wrists, grabbing the collar of his shirt and bringing him back up, kissing him back just as fiercely. Sanemi was quick to return the favor, grabbing onto his Haori in return.

“Don’t you dare apologize for that.” Giyu gasped out when they finally pulled away, cheeks pink and something wild like desire in his eyes.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Sanemi didn’t sound or look any better, pulling him back down by the back of his head for another kiss.

Since then, Giyu had been smiling far more often.

Send me a headcanon and I'll write a 300-500 word dabble for it!

[yggdraseed]

An Incomplete Analysis of the Sukunadome

I stress the point that this is an inherently incomplete analysis. It's getting late, I'm tired and unhappy, and… well, the fight isn't over yet, so there's no way this analysis could be complete even if I felt like it. However, it's on my mind, and I feel the need to start exerting myself more on these things. Sometimes sweat is the better medicine. I know this is a long one and doesn’t have any pictures, but if we all support each other, we’ll get through it together.

Full disclosure, I wish more people had gotten filtered by this fight and just stopped talking about Jujutsu Kaisen by now. Like yeah, I think it's great different people see things in different ways, but let's all be honest with ourselves here, most of the people criticizing this fight are not doing so with any sort of literary or artistic perspective or good faith. Most of it is Gojo fans who are still crying, seething, vomiting, pissing, and shitting over the fact that the character they attached their ego to didn't win Jujutsu Kaisen like they wanted. If this describes you, well, this post will probably do you some good, but I'm confident nobody who takes the stance that Gojo should have won would have the space in their mind for what I'm about to say about Sukunadome.

Because that's what I'm calling it. "The Sukuna Cycle" was maybe a little funny for a week or two, but like most memes about this series, it wasn't really based on the story so much as it was on an agenda. Kusakabe was part of the fight since Yuji and Higuruma entered, and up until Miguel, we knew all the combatants who would be tagging in were there. We knew Yuta was off dealing with Kenjaku and would return, we knew Maki was in play, and there really weren't a lot of switches. Just Choso leaving and coming back, Ui Ui retrieving Higuruma's and Gojo's corpses, and… you know, actually, I think that's it. Sure isn't as much as the "Sukuna Cycle" memes made it out to be, huh?

Okay, if you haven't noticed yet, I'm a big JJK fan and a big JJK fandom hater. I think JJK has the worst Western internet fanbase I've seen in a long time, with only a few oases scattered across the internet where you can find intelligent life. Like it's insane what kind of bullshit a person can convince themselves of.

However, I'm not analyzing JJK's fanbase, I'm analyzing JJK. Someday we'll litigate whether or not Lobotomy Kaisen was really funny enough to justify how badly it ruined this fanbase's ability to objectively, productively engage with with one of the most competently written and culturally impactful manga to come out this century. Today is not that day.

So Sukuna's got four arms and knows how to use them. He's got four eyes and so much sass one mouth wasn't enough for the amount of trash he's got to talk to the youths of today. Just on a basic level, having four arms would be such an insignificant power in any other Shonen as to almost be a joke. Yet with how jujutsu sorcery functions as a power system and how adept Sukuna is at using every possible advantage at his disposal - even going so far as to take what probably should be disadvantages and twist them to work for him - having the ability to make hand seals while fighting hand-to-hand, and being able to chant without interrupting his breathing, are inseparable from Sukuna's godlike fighting ability. I love how something seemingly so mundane is such a huge x factor for Sukuna.

We continually see how Sukuna is a complex, but fundamentally vile antagonist. He has a very rich, detailed view of the world, but one that fundamentally reduces every other human being to be his playthings and food. It's just that Sukuna says, "Don't like it? Then get stronger." It's a very Social Darwinist, late stage capitalist view to be coming from the Heian Era, and I think that maybe it's intentional. Shitty people are shitty in mostly the same ways, it's just they find new things to be shitty about or to use to be shitty with.

Like if that were all it is, it'd make Sukuna so effective as a villain to hate and would slot so nicely into Jujutsu Kaisen's overarching social and political commentary. Cruelty within suffering, selfishness as a strength and a weakness, the unfairness of how the strength to pursue one's agency is unevenly distributed and how the haves don’t realize how easily they could have instead been have-nots, it's all there.

But there’s this inherent charisma to Sukuna that I think is intentional. He has this noblesse oblige where he’s so inherently aware of his greatness that he doesn’t have a problem with giving credit where credit is due. Like he talks all the trash when he’s fighting Jogo, but where Gojo’s insults come across as puerile and blunt, Sukuna’s always displaying this wit to him. And when the battle’s over, he acknowledges that even though Jogo wasn’t as strong as him, he was stronger than most and could have gone even further if he hadn’t held himself back. He starts off belittling Gojo in their fight, but by the end, he expresses a profound respect and gratitude towards Gojo. Like it’s a very warped form of those sentiments, but I think it’s sincere. Even with Ishigori, when Sukuna fails to cut him the first time, he just acknowledges it was disrespectful to hold back and that he’ll give it full force the next strike.

Something to keep in mind is that everything Megumi warned Yuji about when it comes to ancient sorcerers applies to Sukuna as well. They’re not treated as uniformly, unambiguously evil anymore than anyone else in JJK is, and are acknowledged as having fundamentally different world views about violence and the value of human life. Kashimo, for instance, seems to value his life only because he’s able to risk his life and lay it on the line. They’re people from an era where children died so young that parents often gave them numbered names so as to not get too attached until they’d see if their kids actually were going to make it or not. If you didn’t give your whole life over to a goal, you probably wouldn’t achieve it. Whereas modern sorcerers, modern people, have all these complex and sometimes contradictory views and needs, ancient sorcerers show a tendency to shave everything away except their one singular conviction because that was what you had to do in an era of much shorter life expectancies and peril on all sides. You’d be very lucky to accomplish one life goal, let alone as many as people of today set out to achieve: graduating high school, graduating college, getting a job, starting a family, and hopefully having one or two passions on the side. Fundamentally different worldviews from fundamentally different periods of history.

And Sukuna is no different. His goal is simple: partake in the many colors and flavors of humanity through mortal combat in the arena of sorcery. Sukuna’s love for sorcery runs deep. He’s always curious about different cursed techniques, even ones that are pedestrian to a sorcerer of his level, like Nanako’s smartphone-based technique. He reminds me of a quote from Baki: “Someone who works hard can never beat someone who enjoys himself.” Sukuna has clearly put forth great effort to master sorcery, but clearly doesn’t see it as work. He sees it as just doing what he enjoys and is good at.

Unfortunately for everyone else, he enjoys killing and is extremely good at it. Sukuna is the ultimate ethical heat death of the “live for yourself, cherish your own agency, don’t let yourself be controlled” mindset that is the ideological starting point of JJK. It’s a very dark, extreme interpretation of Buddhist non-attachment, where even compassion is an attachment to ultimately shed. Sukuna lives perfectly freely, including being free from guilt or compassion.

Naturally, there’s an exception. All things seem to have exceptions. In Sukuna’s case, that would be Uraume. I’ve been fascinated by their dynamic since we first learned of Uraume’s allegiance to Sukuna during Shibuya and I still can’t wait to know more. Suffice to say, Sukuna dotes on Uraume, forgiving their mistakes and seeming to enjoy their company not just because of their service to him, but because their existence makes him happy. I’m reminded of Power in Chainsaw Man, how she was seemingly incapable of empathy or mercy until she met Meowy.

Honestly, Sukuna reminds me a lot of a lot of characters in Chainsaw Man. People who are trying to climb from this state of misery, of struggling just to meet basic desires, and learning to be human. Yet Sukuna is so strong he never needed to learn to be human. He never needed to cooperate with others to survive — or at least, doesn’t seem to believe he did — and so he never saw the value in it. And so he’s basically brute forced his way around having to undergo an arc like Denji’s, and has instead ended up a hedonistic black hole devising all these complicated philosophical arguments to justify what is, really, a very simplistic, predatory desire to only satisfy his basic material wants and creative interests and nothing else for anyone else.

But like, it’s not that simple. If you give to others, you get something immaterial in return. I can’t quantity it or define it, but I’m sure most of you know what I mean. The happiness that comes from taking care of others’ needs, and the deeper levels beyond that happiness. Like I do believe that’s the subtext behind Binding Vows as metaphor: that you almost never give without getting in return. You might not get the same thing back, in the same form, but being changed by the act of putting the needs and wants of others before your own even temporarily still is part of the exchange. It’s part of becoming complete as a human being.

Sukuna has defied that exchange and broken the cycle, and I don’t think it’s inherently for his own benefit. There are some thing about being human that you don’t just get to opt out of, no matter how much you claim you’re more than or less than human. Even if Sukuna doesn’t think he’s lost something of value, he has. And that something of value is inherent to the whole point of this final battle.

Jujutsu Kaisen is basically working on two big problems. There are lots of ideas at play in the series, but there are two fundamental problems for which every fiight, every character arc, every turn of the gears consitutes part of the calculus to solve one or both of those problems.

The first problem, a thematic and philosophical one: “How do you love and fight for something when you know you’re going to die?”

The second problem, a metatextual one: “Is there any artistic and social value left in the Shonen formula as it stands in the modern day?”

And this fight is, ultimately, where GeGe is showing their work. It’s where Yuji has to defeat Sukuna, if not in terms of out-boxing him, then in terms of prevailing over his beliefs about humanity and the world as a whole.

GeGe has stripped Yuji of everything that is supposed to determine the worth of a Shonen protagonist’s victory. He’s not fighting alone, he didn’t go off and train all by himself, he trained with a lot of powerful, smart people who helped him. And Yuji is arguably not even the most important participant in the fight. So why should we care if Yuji wins?

The answer is so simple it’s easy to lose track of it. Yuji is risking his life to rescue someone, his friend, from being exploited, and to save the people of Japan from being exploited. Even after everything that’s happened, Yuji plants his fucking feet and takes a stance that no, shithead, there is such a thing as the right thing. Maybe it isn’t obvious all the time, and it sure as hell isn’t always easy to know what it is, but he knows now with certainty what it isn’t: to exploit others or to destroy yourself. We can find our answers somewhere in-between.

Sometimes we can’t resolve our problems with a tidy solution that makes everyone happy and sometimes we have to carve a piece of ourselves out and give to something we won’t be sure to see the fruition of, but that’s just life. It doesn’t mean we have to throw away all hope for things to get better. Even if the world won’t become utopian, it can still become better, no matter how many nihilists hide their own inequities behind assertions that there is no point.

Nihilism is not a solution to the problems of life, it is the choice to run away and hide. To give into nihilism is to give up the fight even while other people are still fighting all around you.

So that’s the fucking point of the Sukunadome. Nobara already said it better than anyone else has before she made Mahito look like the bitch he was and always will be: “Sometimes you need to fight even when you know you can’t win.” Because you won’t always win and you won’t escape death, nor will you know what lies beyond death. However, you can still live according to your principles and fight for the things you see as meaningful even if other people don’t.

That is why so many characters have come and gone from the fight. All gave some, some gave all. Nobody is truly useless — even if Miwa self-deprecatingly jokes about being useless, she still was the one thing standing between Maki and Malevolent Shrine’s eviscerating hellscape. Even Amai’s sweets-conjuring joke technique saved Hana from a would-be fatal fall and helped to supply sugar to the brains of people using reverse cursed technique in Shoko’s triage. Larue couldn’t do much, but they caught Sukuna’s eye at the perfect time for Yuji to land a Black Flash, and that means something. It all means something.

Given how deeply GeGe clearly respects Hunter X Hunter, I want to end off by citing one of the quotes in Hunter X Hunter that has been the most impactful for me and I suspect has been about as impactful on GeGe: “It seems small things… infinitesimally small things… are needed to build the entire universe. The size of a thing has nothing to do with its power.” We always seem to direct our senses to the superlatives. The largest, the oldest, the loudest, the things that hit the hardest. But while it would be wrong to throw those out, we often lose sight of how many little, important things there are in the midst of those huge, important things.

Seeing someone’s smile when you remembered something they said that showed you were listening to them. The feeling of a warm breeze on a summer morning. The smell of honeysuckle on your walk home. Waking up to rain on a Sunday. The taste of watermelon. Getting married. Having your heart broken. Songs that make you smile, songs that make you cry — songs that do both, and songs that make you feel things you can’t describe. When you’re always looking to those immense, monolithic things, always comparing your seemingly small, seemingley meaningless life to them, you lose sight of just how meaningful all of it is.

Just because it doesn’t have cosmic, absolute meaning doesn’t make it meaningless. Every little thing that means something to you is worthy of being cherished. The people around you, the things that bring you happiness, even if that happiness is going to ebb and flow. It’s all worth fighting for and living for. It just takes bravery and conviction to keep fighting and keep living with authenticity and love. And if there’s an artistic value, a greater meaning to Shonen, now and always, it’s the unerring, unabashed belief that there’s a reason to aim high and not give up.

Because sometimes, life hurts. But if it’s just pain, Yuji Itadori will never stop. We’ll see what I have to amend, reconsider, or elaborate on when the fight is finished. I hope this gave some of you a new way to look at it.