#if you can please watch and show your opinion

[thecuriousquest]

Hello! Can you please make a part two for "Don’t Close Your Eyes" ?

It was pretty well written in my own opinion and I was feeling I was being pulled into the story while reading it so I hope you would make a part two where maybe reader gets sick to the point she has to be in hospital due to Gojo not doing something with her oversensitivity or perhaps she runs away from home and tries to find uncle Nanami because he is the one actually letting her cover her eyes?

Don’t Close Your Eyes Part Two

Platonic!Yandere Father Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader (Teen Daughter)

Warnings: NSFW (platonic - suicidal thoughts and self-harm), run away, vomiting

Note: This is the last part I’m doing for the Don’t Close Your Eyes series.

Master List

Part One

Ask Box is temporarily closed while I catch up on Requests. Please, be patient. Love you all. 🖤🤘

—————————————————————————

Gojo stays by your bedside for hours. This is a particularly hard day for you. You couldn’t even make it to the trashcan sitting beside him on the floor. Sometimes, the tasks of a father are gross, and cleaning your vomit off of the bedsheets is just a job he has to do. He doesn’t complain, however, and he doesn’t rub it in your face either. Thankfully. He has some common sense right now.

But he finds himself in need of sleep, and he finds it a particularly deep sleep after staying up and watching over you for the past two nights. He thinks it will be okay to doze off. He thinks you’ll wake him up if you need something. But something drags Satoru deep under into a serene sleep that clings to him like a soothing blanket of darkness.

He jolts awake, not even knowing the time, because he doesn’t feel your presence anymore.

“Angel? Angel?!” He begins to panic.

Where the hell could you have gone off to?

He checks all over the estate, even going as far as to check every inch of shelter. He surveys the backyard next, even removing the bindings over his eyes so he can scan the area even further.

No luck. None.

The sound of his ringtone catches him off guard. He pulls his phone from his pocket and sees “Suit” is calling him.

Answering the phone is less than pleasant but full of information. Nanami says that you showed up at his house, barefoot and exhausted, looking ready to collapse. He says that you locked yourself in the bathroom, vomiting relentlessly, refusing to even open the door so he can be in there with you for comfort.

“It’s your own fault, you know. She wouldn’t be as sick as a fresh sailor if you would just do what’s best for her.”

The phone call ends by Nanami’s decision, and Gojo is left with the one-two-three beep before everything goes quiet.

Satoru stands there, an eerie silence filling the void around him as he sticks his phone back in his pocket. He looks up at the sky, just hoping that his baby is okay.

———

The white haired sorcerer raps on Kento’s door, and it only takes a moment or two for the blond to descend the stairs and answer the knock. He greets Satoru with a grim expression before inviting the man in.

“She’s upstairs. I don’t even know how she dragged herself up there.”

Nanami leads Gojo to the bathroom. The door is locked, and they can hear sounds of hacking and dry heaving.

“Kid must’ve thrown everything up…” Satoru says. He takes a moment before knocking on the door. “Angel, it’s Daddy.”

“G-go away!”

“I’m not leaving, honey. Daddy’s here. I’m going to take you home and take care of you. Okay? Just open the door.”

But you can’t. You just can’t bring yourself to do it. You don’t want to go home with him. You don’t want to go back to bed, back to throwing up with him by your side.

You spot the razor blades on the counter. You didn’t even see them in your foggy haze when you first entered the bathroom. You’ve never been prone to these types of thoughts before. Not once. But that was then, that was before. Now, you’re trapped in a place where you feel like you can’t even breathe. You’re constantly attached to your bed or a trashcan, and things just aren’t getting any better. Daddy said you’d grow out of it, grow out of your sensitivity. But that’s not true. You’ve been like this ever since you were small.

You just need a break. You just need it to end. You didn’t ask for the Six Eyes. You never wanted this, the pain that comes with it.

In a rash decision, you grab the razor off of the counter and bloody your fingers trying to pry the blades out of the cartridge. Scratches and cuts line the pads and tips, even near your nail beds, and you hiss as it all finally comes undone.

Sinking down to the floor in between the toilet and the tub, you hold the razor blade, thin and metallic, in your hand.

You hear Kento sigh before the door handle breaks off. The barrier opens, revealing your dad and Uncle Nanami. Tears spring to your eyes as you hold the blade to your wrist while keeping your eyes directly concentrated on your father.

Your words were meant to come out fierce and bold, but they sound like a hoarse whisper. “I can’t take it anymore, Daddy. I’ll do it…I swear to God, I’ll do it.”

“Angel.” His tone is stern, his brows furrowed as he steps into the bathroom.

You dig the blade into your flesh, threateningly. Droplets of crimson bubbling up to the surface. Nanami’s hand flies out in a flash, grasping Satoru’s arm, keeping him from going any further.

“Angel, honey…put that damn blade down. Right now.” And Kento can feel him shaking with anxiety.

They both watch you, both eyes looking down on you. Nanami doesn’t know what to say, and Gojo wants to say everything.

“You can’t make me live the rest of my life in pain, Daddy! Even Uncle Nanami doesn’t force me to!” There it is. The lion-like tone you wished for earlier that you couldn’t manage to find. “It hurts, and you don’t even care!”

The blond sighs and moves his hand from Satoru’s arm to his shoulder.

“Think hard about your next move, Gojo.”

It feels like the weight of the world is on the strongest sorcerer’s shoulders at this moment. His little angel star has been in so much pain, and his mistakes are crashing down on him like a comet. Deep breaths are all he can take, are all he can hear as he arrives to his descision. Satoru removes his glasses and holds them out to you.

“Can I come over to you and help you put these on, angel?”

It’s the first time that he has ever tried to do anything to legitimately help you with the pain. The rivers in your eyes spill over, cascading down your cheeks like waterfalls. Nodding your head, you drop the gray blade onto the floor.

Gojo walks over to you, kneels beside you on the floor. He takes his glasses and puts them on your face. He is saddened to no longer see your red-rimmed, celestial blue eyes, but he smiles at you because he can visibly see the exhaustion and weariness leave your features.

You can’t see with how dark the sunglasses are, but it’s perfect. You can still sense where everything is. Reaching out for him, you pull your father closely and wrap a hand around the back of his neck as you sob gratefully.

“Thank you, Daddy…”

“No problem, angel. These will do for the time being until we can get you your own. Okay?”

“Okay, Daddy. My head doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I know. Come on. Let’s get you home. Go say goodbye to Uncle Nanami.”

You obey immediately, happily. You walk over to your Uncle Nanami and give him a big hug before going home with your father. For the first time in your life, you are finally free to close your eyes.

[hallowpen]

I'm so so so happy about the unstoppable GL train that's currently in motion. So many new saphhic series are being produced...

(If you plan to watch Dream or Pluto and don't want to be swayed in any way by my opinion then you probably shouldn't read this...)

However, after Blank (still refuse to watch it), Pluto, and Dream--and all the other works that are waiting in preproduction land--, I really hope there are no more adaptations of this particular author's novels. There are a plethora of other incredible works that can be licensed/adapted without having to support someone who has made detrimental comments about and created controversial portrayals of their own community.

I'm tired of having to overlook my personal feelings about someone in order to enjoy sapphic representation in Thai series. Because I am genuinely excited to see so much rep... and I did happily gasp in surprise of seeing another GL while watching GMM release the trailer for Pluto during their showcase....

I trust IDOL (and Saint) because of what they did with GAP...and I am going to try so hard to trust GMM with Pluto because I am loving 23.5 with my whole lesbian heart and I know I can count on Namtan to deliver. It's just...frustrating, I guess.

[sskk-manifesto]

(´･ᴗ･ ` )

[theamazingannie]

Finished the first two episodes of PJO. Got thoughts (if anyone cares). Putting under a read more cuz it’s a bit lengthy

Before I go into the cons (cuz I got some unfortunately), the pros:

Aryan is so cute I adore him

I love the main trio in general. I think some of the acting isn’t always great but their chemistry and adorableness make up for it

I especially love the percabeth relationship. Walker and Leah did a great job showing that doofus Percy and irritated Annabeth relationship. Especially their early on “Annabeth looking down on Percy while he understandably flounders around.” I cannot wait to see more of them!!!

Saw someone on Twitter talk about the armor adjustment scene and how it could be a parallel to them later on as their relationship progresses and I hope so badly that they do that

Love Clarisse. Does a great balance between being unlikeable and being unenjoyable

LOVE Mr. D. Had absolutely no doubt that Jason Mantzoukas would crush this role and am glad to see it. Perfect level of unhinged and unnervingness. Literally the perfect person to play the role

It has a decent script. Not perfect, but I like how witty Percy is and there’s a lot of good written chemistry between characters and I found myself chuckling a lot, which is great as an adult with a show targeted towards younger audiences

The scenery is GREAT. I always have a hard time visualizing camp in my mind while reading and I think the show perfectly balances a normal summer camp with fantasy. Would’ve liked to see more of it, like a proper tour, but I know there’s not a lot of time. Hopefully we get to see more of it in later episodes

Great fight choreography. Wish there was a little more of it. Again, maybe they were cut for time but the fight scenes just seemed very rushed. But what we did see was so good. Especially loved Percy’s little duck and roll thing he did

Which brings us to the negatives. I wish I didn’t have any, but unfortunately I have a lot. I base these both as a fan of the books and as a show as a whole:

First things first, the pacing. It’s awful. It felt like a bunch of random scenes clipped together. There’s almost zero flow between scenes. It reminds me of watching the deleted scenes in the DVD bonus features and the weirdly long pauses between some scenes added to that. Nothing felt connected

To add to pacing, everything felt really rushed. As I said before, I get that timing is an issue, but I felt sped through everything. Considering it’s a tv show and we were promised more than was in the book, I didn’t expect so much to be left out. Nothing too important, but as I said before, it could’ve used better transitioning between scenes. I was left kind of disappointed and I can’t imagine not reading the books and being expected to follow this

On that note, explanations were iffy. It felt like they wanted to rush through explaining stuff to get to other parts which is fine for us readers but I think new audiences might struggle to follow. There’s a lot of information that the audience needs to know and I don’t think they properly addressed everything

One thing that comes to mind as I’m typing this is the wheelchair. They never show what it’s for. They introduce Chiron at camp as a centaur and have him be one for the entire time and so to an unknowing audience there’s just a random empty wheelchair during a scene. If they weren’t going to use it, they should’ve cut that out

The scene with the Cloven Elders felt unnecessary. I get they want to explore other POVs outside Percy’s but nothing that happened in that scene felt necessary to the plot. Barely anything happens and most of what happens is explained verbally through Grover later. I wonder if the scene was cut for time but it probably should’ve been cut altogether. It didn’t add anything except a tiny bit of worldbuilding and having them go INSIDE the tree was weird and not even from the books. There’s like a whole forest inside the forest which gives me Dodona vibes which it shouldn’t

As I said before, the acting isn’t great at times. That’s fine considering I was a House of Anubis stan once (hence the icon). Acting is honestly not the most important part of a show as long as they have interesting characters with good chemistry (which they do!) but still pulled me out of it a bit. Some of the delivery was kind of dry

There were multiple times when I thought the direction could’ve been better. It wasn’t necessarily the acting (although that was part of it). For example, which Annabeth says “you drool in your sleep”. She says it very monotonously and matter of fact and just stared at him unmoving which is fine cuz I think that’s how it worked in the book but I think it might’ve worked better if she said it more petulantly and hurried away. This is very nitpicky tho and is mostly just opinion

Speaking of Annabeth, though: I wanted to see her more! I get we will see her plenty throughout the season but I love her and would’ve liked her to be introduced sooner. She meets Percy earlier in the books so she could’ve been introduced sooner. I also want to see her and Chiron interact (which we will hopefully get ep 3) so we can see that father daughter relationship. (I did like the way she was introduced though. They did that really well. I just want to see her more🥰)

A note for the next ep promo: WHY did it spoil that they were gonna be meeting Medusa??! That was supposed to be a surprise and they just gave it away in the PROMO????

One last thing cuz I’m mad. I already made a separate post about it but THALL-EE-UH???? That’s literally how I pronounced it when I first read it and was repeatedly told it was wrong and it was TALL-ee-uh so I switched my brain over and NOW you tell me I was right??? I knew some pronounciations were gonna be wrong but I was PRETTY SURE about that one

I definitely had more thoughts while watching (some that are extremely nitpicky that I’m going to force myself to ignore) but I didn’t take notes while watching and am already starting to forget details. Overall, I did love it, but I think a lot of the love came from my existing love of the series. I first read PJO 13 years ago and it was the first book series I truly fell in love with and remains my favorite to this day. A lot of feelings are my love biasing me both positively and negatively, and it makes me wonder if I would have chosen to continue watching the show if I hadn’t already had that love. Honestly, I don’t think I would. However, I do plan on continuing to watch and support and hopefully the rest of the season goes well!

[junipum]

im sooo annoyed seeing some of the GO2 posts that are calling it "low quality" or fanfiction in a negative sense. like yeah ik we're all entitled to our own opinions but i truly don't see half the issues with it that would elicit such criticism. i get it might've been a little less action packed than s1, but that doesn't make it bad! or poorer quality! stories have ups and downs, and i don't even see this as a down at all. i genuinely really like s2, and i think it lives up to the hype. i know i certainly believe it was worth the wait! i think the ending was good as well. i would've loved a happy ending right away, but it's a well known fact that stories only get better endings after something heartbreaking or drastic happens that totally throws a wrench in the plans. i can't help but think of the end of hannibal s2. while at the time of release fans might've been mad possibly, but now with s3 we look back at that and cherish it as just another layer of the show and their relationship. i can only pray that we get a s3 that gives gaiman and pratchet time to finish/continue the narrative they're creating. aziraphale and crowley deserve more time to fix their relationship, and the writers/directors deserve more time to continue the plot without being stopped by annoying critics

[detectivechandler]

what? That description in the post is actually much more on point than yours in the tags! He throws pizza boxes? Who does he call unintelligent? He hides behind his mental illness...?! Which behaviour did you consider arrogant? He was quite self-doubting, Miles actually gave him a few talks on that!

alright, I said I would answer this yesterday afternoon but the day got ahead of me and my brain was too fatigued to open a laptop so here's hoping you still give a damn enough to read it. First of all, I think it needs to be understood that I never said I necessarily disagreed with the traits presented in the post, nor did I state that the traits I mentioned within the tags were all there was. I did nothing but defend Joe 100% of the time when I first made this character because he is a super, soft, sweet man... but he is also human and that is what makes him compelling. He is not all positive traits (just as he is not all negative) and that is what my tags were trying to point out - instances of opposite behavior. One does not negate the other. I want a character to be complex, especially one that means so much to me. Recognizing flaws and mistakes and what would be considered 'negative' personality traits, does not mean you hate the person/character. On that note, since I do have ten thousand reasons why I love Joe and wish to protect him at all costs throughout various posts on my blog and have been meaning to address some of the things you mention anyways, I'm gonna try to go point by point. Under a cut because its gonna get long, I think.

Also want to note that sometimes, nailing down Joe's characterization is pretty difficult even as a casual observer that doesnt put much thought into it because whitechapel (i love it, i truly do) is very inconsistent with its writing. He has 5 cars in the span of four seasons, for example. The way he reacts to people and stress changes. He is very puppy (my little golden retriever boy) in season 2 and, while he remains the same in some aspects, he is back to being Joe in season 3 and 4.

I touched on everything in this ask (I think. My brain is mush right now) except for the mental illness post because I believe that deserves its own meta so that will be the next thing I go insane over. And again, thanks for sending this! For real. You motivated me to actually sit down and write out the various things in my mind rather than let my blog stay a shrine to all things Joe (stay gold, ponyboy) because it is/was so tempting. As my comfort character, I'm motivated (especially during this time of my life) to really build up how wonderful he is and ignore more negative traits (that again, dont necessarily negate the positive ones. Personality aspects co exist, even when they seem to contradict one another) and that's not the kind of writer I want to be. But, more importantly, that's not a true comfort character. I find strength in the fact that Joe is as fucked up as the rest of us in his own ways. He's struggling. He can be mean. He yells when hes frustrated and he makes snap judgments about others before getting to know them. He's a person. Like me. Like you. Like all of us. THAT is what I find comfort in. I love that he is three dimensional and I get that some people don't like acknowledging things like that, I do... but personally, for me, I don't believe in entirely herowashing or only focusing on the good. I love him because he is as flawed as me but he fights to be anyhow.

What's that stupid quote from the last episode of season 2? I may stumble, but I never fall.

For the pizza box thing - season 4, episode 4. The exchange that leads to it starts at 14:42. I wish I could gif it but alas. I don't have photoshop on this computer and won't have my mac back until next week. Basically, Joe and Miles are looking at the whiteboard while Joe tries to piece together the common factor shared between the cases thus far. He asks a question about a victim and Mansell speaks up and supplies the necessary information. Joe is extremely frustrated and goes on a bit of a tear. It culminates with him picking up the empty pizza box at Mansell's desk and throwing it at him. The whole exchange is as follows:

Joe: What about the first victim, Harry Barnett, did he have a record? Miles: Well, we've got his prints on file. Something to do with a stolen car. Mansell: Yeah, it was a hit and run. Barnett was questioned but he reported his car stolen, so the case never came to court. I've got the file here somewhere. Joe: Why didn't I know about this? Mansell: Well, I've been concentrating on cracking the code. Joe: Well, get on to it, will you? It's important! Sort your desk out, it's a disgrace. Mansell: Yes sir. Joe: How can you think straight with all this chaos and crap everywhere? A young man's life hangs in the balance and all you can think about is which topping to have on your pizza! We gotta stay focused or otherwise we make mistakes!

And then he throws the pizza box at him. I'm not saying he's a bad person for it, I'm not even saying I wouldn't do the same thing (I absolutely would) but I AM saying that I won't ignore the fact that he does it. Reasons why this was called out by me in the tags to come towards the end when I tie all of this together. For now I just wanted to give the reference of when it happens.

Calling someone unintelligent. Does he say "Gosh (insert name), you are so unintelligent!" No. If he did we wouldnt be having this discussion and I wouldnt be writing the character because I like to have to dig not have things handed to me. There are multiple instances of him questioning someone and commenting things about their thinking that while they do not explicitly say you're an idiot... they do say, what the fuck are you thinking? I will concede that maybe 'unintelligent' was the wrong word to use in my description, but I was eating a chicken tender and typing one handed on my phone. I'm gonna skip to your arrogance thing because a lot of this ties into that so just .. bear with me for a second.

Arrogance. This is gonna be a big one. I'm gonna list some points and then cite the scenes (with timestamps and episodes) that sort of led to me forming this opinion. First, I think it should be acknowledged that arrogance and insecurity/self-doubt can often go hand in hand. In fact, arrogance is often used as a defense mechanism for those with low-self esteem who want to be accepted and given respect and believe they won't be if they aren't perfect.

There is a type of arrogance referred to as Belief Arrogance in some psychiatric journals online through various databases (such good reads always. Highly recommend). This is defined as follows: Belief arrogance comes before a person is truly proved as being right. They may even still believe they are right after they are proven wrong. It is often based either on excessive self - confidence or as a cover up for a lack of self-confidence.

Some general examples of arrogance that bring this to mind (we'll go episode by episode, shall we? and please note my internet is being slow so I'm using the scenes that immediately come to mind so that I can cite without losing my fucking mind. I can go way in depth later if you so wish. ):

Season 1, Episode 1:

We are introduced to Joe in what can be considered a state of arrogance for him. He is part of the metropolitan police social club for the high and mighty (its a thing, i researched it lmao) and as he makes his way to the commander, he is greeted by much older detectives and accompanied by mutterings (of a good kind). "It's joe! look its joe! hi joe!". Very Simba walking up pride rock of him tbh. He was groomed for this job. He is being pushed through the ranks (as my high school principal always said .. its not the grades you make, its the hands you shake) and the confidence and belief in himself that comes from that is part of it. This does not negate the fact that he practices things in front of the mirror etc, but those things also do not erase arrogance. He is bothered when he feels like he is being undermined (again, understandable) and he literally yells and asks if his team has heard of showers and tells them they smell. Thats judgmental, mate. And that comes from a place of arrogance.

Season 2, Episode 1.

This example begins in a diner where Joe is conversing with Ed after the bayonetting at the snooker hall at 25:47. It goes as follows:

Joe: Steven Dukes is part of a notorious crime family. He must have grown up idolizing the Krays and now he's using the legend to build his own empire. Ed: Does he wear Italian suits, a monogrammed shirt? Joe: Not when he was standing in a snooker hall, no. Ed: Ah, but don't you see? If he were the copycat, he would. The copycat went to great trouble to recreate the exact details of Frank Mitchell's death. Lenny Cobb was taken from Dartmoor Prison, just like Mitchell, and his injuries were, tragically, just like Mitchell's. Anyone who cares enough about those details would at the very least wear the suit. Joe: This is about power and fear, not fancy dress. Ed: But it's not about a pretense or an act. It's about being a Kray. I don't think it can be Dukes. Joe: Dukes has motive. He has opportunity, and he inspires enough fear to ensure silence. My instinct tells methat he's the one.

Same episode, 37:50.

Ed: It's not Dukes. It's not about power, or money or empire building. The motive is revenge. The victimes are being chosen from those that gave evidence against the Kray twins and they will be killed in the manner of their testimony. Joe: So who do you think will be next? Ed: Slasher Daneford. He testified about the death of Jack 'The Hat' Mcvitie, and he's like Mcvitie in many ways.I tried to warn him, but he's refused to run or seek protection. I am a real detective, in my heart, in my bones, and I do not need a warrant card to prove it! Joe: Thanks for the tip. We really appreciate it [as a side note here, please pay attention to the expression his face. It's one of indulgence more than it is an expression of genuine gratefulness) Ed: Don't just humor me, Joe! You must talk to Slaher. I can't have his death on my conscience.

As another side note in this episode, he judges Mansell the moment he walks through that door and continues to do so until the show ends. He actually makes a face that cracks me the fuck up lmao.

I'm skipping seasons because - again - slow internet and I'm using hulu for now until I get my laptop back but lets go to season 4 shall we. I love season 4. But Lucas, he's under a lot of stress you might say. You might argue 'but season 4 makes the worst of every character come out' .. and you're right! it does! which means these traits exist in Joe all along, they are just brought closer to the surface thanks to the joy that is frustration (which is something that happens to all of us).

Season 4, episode 1.

Timestamp 7:31. His first introduction to Louise Iver. He gets so upset. Why? Because she is pricking at a sore spot, she is prodding at an open wound that is already a detriment to his pride. Conversation is as follows:

Louise: Are you in the book? Joe: No, I'm not. Louise: Oh, I understand. [Joe sort of gives her a look here like, you understand what exactly? He's already in defense mode] Did he leave you out to spare your feelings? Joe: I beg your pardon? Louise: Never bringing in a killer alive is a terrible legacy. Joe: I'm not in the book because I'm a serving police officer. Louise: Oh, well, your memoirs will be a depressing read, won't they?

Timestamp, 40:00. The conversation with Wingfield.

Wingfield: Well, I didn't think I'd walk away. Joe: You had an alibi. Why were you spying on us? Wingfield: You have been infiltrated by an agent. Joe [scoffing]: I don't think we're that interesting. Wingfield: Any soul is of interest. And you have been chosen. Joe: By whom? Wingfield: I first heard of this agent when I was in captivity. It is a provocateur whose purpose is to incite others to commit evil acts.

[Joe literally scoffs again]

Wingfield: Markov. Calvi. The Krays. The Ripper. An immortal entity was behind them all. Planting the seeds, watching the horror grow. The provocateur had Zukanov killed. It was a setup to silence me. Now that has failed and another way will be found. Joe [scoffing. again]: you're mad. Wingfield: I wish I were. I wish I was wrong. Good luck.

Alright, let's talk about this. First of all, I would like to mention the definition of a scoff. Scoffing means contemptuously ridiculing or mocking someone or something. This man scoffs SO FUCKING MUCH at people. I cannot believe that someone would argue to blatantly MAKE FUN of someone's belief or opinion is not in itself, a display of arrogance at some level. What would you call that then? I will point out other examples of scoffing that I remember in the other episodes, but if you want episode by episode examples for every single one ... I'd be happy to provide.

Season 4, episode 2

I do also think that during the autopsy review of Dorothy's body, Joe hyper-fixates on the knowledge that the killer has gangrene. How long before he dies? When Llewelyn answers "He could die at anytime." Joe responds with, not if i get there first. It has stopped being about saving future victims and has started to become a race to simply catch a killer alive, saving his own ego. Arrogance, in a form.

Timestamp 25:40, when going through the woman who drowned's belongings (I cannot remember her name, rip lady I apologize).

Joe: It doesn't look like she had many friends, just work colleagues. It's quite sad, really.

Hell-to the fucking - o ??? Pot calling kettle black. Also it makes me sad and emo because its like .. hes also passing judgment on himself whether or not he realizes it and i want to hug him and call him my precious but this write up isnt about that so .. moving on.

Also, lets jump back to the temper I mentioned that is evidence by the pizza throwing incident .. in this episode (timestamp 30:30) during the fight with Mansell and Kent, Joe doesn't just stop the fight .. he throws Mansell against a table. Pushes with extreme force? Idk what you want to call it. He did NOT have to act that way. It is a combination of temper and, as I pointed out earlier, the fact that he has judged Mansell and considered him lacking/unprofessional/unworthy since day one.

The scene where Joe and Miles share a drink at the end of the episode and are later joined by ed. Timestamp is 40:40

Joe: Septicemia. Once the infection took hold, there was nothing the doctors could do. Miles: I'm sorry. Joe: Another killer escapes justice. Miles: I think you're being too hard on yourself. You saved Nick's life. Joe: You know, if you'd told me five hundred years ago that I was cursed, I would have believed you. Miles: Here. [pours another drink] Here's to bringing on in alive.

[skip ahead to Ed appearing at 42:40 after making a connection in Wingfield's notes down in the archive]

Miles: How can you hear a bottle open all the way down in the archive? Joe [laughing]: Come in. Ed: I'm so sorry to intrude, but I have a matter of some urgency to share with you. Joe: Have a drink. Ed: Oh...yes. After you hear this, we'll all need one. Um... As you know, Wingfield was trying to catch a provocateur. Joe [amused]: The instigator of all evil in Whitechapel. Ed: This is a visual record of all Wingfield's points of surveillance. Miles: It's a madman's map. Ed: Yes, so it would seem. This is us. Here. Joe: Well we know he was watching us from the hotel across the road. Ed: Did you know he was also watching John Washington's bakery? Fascinating, isn't it? Washington thought his life had been blighted by a witch. Wingfield was following an ancient evil that visited the bakery. Miles: They were after the same person. Ed: Wingfield seemed to think so. And he followed them to this building. [Joe's expression after this line when the camera cuts to him is literally like are yall fucking kidding me right now lmao?] Miles: Are you saying there's a demon in this station? Joe: Right. That's enough for one night. Miles: And you criticize me for not being open-minded. Joe: I'm sure there's a rational explanation for all the connections, we just need to find it. Miles: I hope we do

Again, his confidence in being RIGHT in his opinions and so easily dismissing those that he considers absolutely insane is illustrated so heavily in here. A pattern that repeats stronger and stronger until he signs his own demise in the final episode. Continuing on, however...

Season 4 episode 3

The fucking birthday scene. This is so hard to watch, jesus take the wheel from me. Granted, I fully believe they did not plan this little birthday get together well considering location and activity and obviously Joe is a little out of his depth and frustrated/annoyed by it. But this scene is saturated with arrogance.

At 00:58, we see Ed giving Joe a birthday present. Joe looks so excited at the prospect. He's smiling, he's there for it mate. Look at his fucking face when he opens it. I have seen my nephew be more gracious than that when he was given socks on his 6th birthday. Anyways, short recap:

Ed: Happy birthday, Joe. It's not much, but ... it's a hagstone. It's said to protect the wearer against witchcraft and evil charms. Thought it mgiht bring a smile to your face. Obviously not.

It is SO HARD for me to watch this because Joe is absolutely acting like a spoiled little bitch. He makes a face so obvious that Ed picks up on it and he apologizes and looks both embarrassed and crestfallen. It's awful. Again, that's arrogance. Sorry, anon.

Timestamp 5:38, in the museum when they are discussing the skinned face. He is rude as fuck.

Joe: Get it checked for prints. [walks off] Llewelyn: Well someone's forgotten their pleases and thank yous.

Timestamp 7:24, Joe visits Ed in the archives looking for historical precedents to murders involving flaying. Ed gets a bit excited sharing a particular story and Joe brusquely interrupts him with a very irritated How does this help us? Ed, I just need the information, not the conjecture. Actual conversation below, because there are quite a few other rude interactions in this scene.

Joe: What've you got for me? Ed: I was just looking at this. The Flaying of Marsyas by Titian. Marsyas was a satyr, half man, half goat. He was skinned alive for daring to challenge Apollo to a musical duel. It was on loan at the National Gallery a few years ago but Mother wasn't keen. Joe: How does this help us? Ed: Well, your body was found in an art gallery, was it not? The killer could be recreating scenes from all the Grand Masters. Joe: Ed, I just need the information, not the conjecture. Ed: Of course. Well, historically flaying was a means of punishment or torture. A number of Chinese emperors of the Ming Dynasty liked to cut the flesh from their enemies' faces. In fact, Lingchi, the so called death of a thousand cuts, wasn't abolished in China as a form of execution until 1905. Joe: What did they do with the skin? Ed: It depends. The ancient Assyrians would flay their enemies alive and then nail the skin to the city walls. A warning to others not to step out of line. Oh, look, the molds got in here. Now, this is ridiculous. Joe: Have you got anything I can take away with me? Anything I can study? Ed: We're talking ancient history here, Joe. I'm not going to find it in the Metropolitan Police Archive. Joe: Well, I can't go back upstairs with paintings by Titian and stories from Ancient Assyria. That's not what I pay you for.

Timestamp 10:10, Joe makes the assumption that HE is better suited for interviewing what they believe is Sebastian Marlowe's assistance. He tells Miles he needs the interview to go well and doesnt want any belligerence, hinting that he believes Miles would only get in the way. This comes to bite him in the ass when he later finds out that Miles has connections in the art world and would have been able to find out much more than he did. That's a judgment. Again, arrogance.

During the actual interview scene with her, the following exchange happens and I laugh every time.

Joe: Some people wouldn't call it art. Assistant: Some people only look skin deep.

This makes me laugh because of the skin deep pun but also because Joe is clearly meant to be included in the some people. She picks up on the arrogance too. Also he stares at her birthmark and that gets me everytime also. Not in a funny way but a .. bro are you serious way.

Season 4 episode 4

There's the pizza scene mentioned above, obviously. But before that, there is the scene where Miles and Joe are leaving the dentist office. The important bit begins at timestamp 13:00.

Joe: In a missing persons case, the first twenty four hours are the only twenty four hours. Miles: What? You think I don't know that? ... You want me to call in Whacky Jackie? Joe: Who? Miles: Jackie Brierley. She's a last resort. Joe: Who's Jackie Brierley? Miles: She helped us out on a missing child case back in the nineties. She said she saw a vision of running water, led us down to the Lee Valley Resevoir and the divers found the body in ten minutes. Joe: She's a medium? Miles: Yeah. We used her once or twice back in the day. She's not always right, but when you've got no leads ... What are you looking at me like that for? Joe: Well, I can't believe you'd be so gullible. Miles: Well, I've learned to keep an open mind. Joe: A medium??Miles: Well, she found the girl. Joe: So? It was a lucky guess. Miles: Well, we could do with a bit of luck right now. Do you want me to call her or not? Joe: No!! We're detectives. We use police work. Anything else would just be weakness of character.

In case you're wanting to dismiss this whole thing .. let's re read it and remember that Miles states he and his team HAD USED HER a few times. He, Miles, Joe's colleague and one of the closest things to a friend that he's got, has ADMITTED using this woman .. and Joe ridicules him for it. This is arrogance, but it also ties into my 'unintelligent' comment in the tags. Telling someone theyre gullible is the same as saying they aren't intelligent enough to resist falling for something meant to dupe them. Worse than that though, is that Joe is offhandedly insulting the fuck out of Miles with the weakness of character comment, considering Miles has admitted (ten seconds ago, Joe!! come on!!) that he had done the thing Joe is so adamantly against. That's arrogance, buddy. Miles is actually offended. You can tell by his expression and the way that he mutters to himself. Honestly, I would be too.

The scene with Miles in the bathroom when Joe goes into detail about the death of this father (I'm having to bite my tongue because there are so many GOOD things I want to say about this scene and again I want to hug him) also alludes to arrogance in order to cover self-consciousness. Joe states that as a child, he was embarrassed by his mother's actions and started taking an extreme interest in details because he didn't want others to see how much their lives had fallen apart. This is pride. At ten years old, he had wounded pride.

Okay, this is a big one. It might seem like a stretch. Just bear with me. Timestamp, 43:43. It's the scene in the station chapel towards the end of the episode, involving the conversation between Miles and Joe.

Miles: I was just looking up that Vengeance is mine quote. If your enemy is hungry, feed him. If he is thristy, give him a drink. For in so doing, you will heap coals of fire upon his head. Do not be overcome by evil. But overcome evil with good.Joe: If only it was that easy. Do you believe in all of that? Miles: What? Joe: The ... Afterlife. Miles: Well, I was brought up Catholic, I have to hedge my bets. Joe: Is that why you consulted a psychic? Miles: No, the family asked for her. What's all this about? We caught the guy, the case is closed. Joe: No. we didn't catch him. He chose to die. He taunted me.

Alright so. Were do I begin with this one. First of all, the verse that Miles reads aloud would actually be a fantastic answer to most of Joe's issues during this season (and throughout the show), if only he would give it the time of day. But he doesn't. In fact, though he does listen while Miles read it aloud, he also makes his usual expressions and immediately dismisses it by asking Miles if he believes in such a thing. We already know he (Joe) doesn't. His pride has been pricked. I've already mentioned the illustrations given throughout other episodes, but it is growing more and more apparent. This verse is TELLING HIM he should do the opposite. Rather than being overcome by evil (aka, being driven to the more baser parts of his personality, the more negative traits) he should be approaching the situation with mercy and grace towards himself. Instead, he is angry. He is frustrated. He is upset by the fact that he feels (rightly so) taunted. Imagine you're 6'8. Weird, I know. But hang on. So you're 6'8 and you're in a cafe somewhere, waiting on a coffee. A person walks in and says 'wow, you're so short." You would go about your day (most would at least, I think) because you know they're wrong. They are not attacking an insecurity. Youre not arrogant, youre just confident in the fact that you're fucking 6'8 and that isnt short. However, when attacked or wronged in some way in regards to something that does bother us (something we are already insecure about perhaps), arrogance does come into play when we get offended. How dare they say that! How dare they think it! You're furious! Joe is reacting the same way. His ego is being attacked.

Season 4, Episodes 5 and 6.

I'm actually wrapping this up really quick because I could go on for fucking AGES about these two episodes and I probably will one day, but the last 3 hours of putting this together is starting to get to me and todays another not feeling so great today. Joe's arrogance comes home to roost in these episodes. He is so ashamed of meeting with Jackie, he double and triple checks that they are doing so in secret. He makes it VERY CLEAR during their conversation that he thinks shes a fucking hoax. He refuses to read the letter given to him through Miles that supposedly contains a message from his father. What would it have cost him to open the letter? It doesnt mean anything to open something. But to Joe it did. To Joe, opening that letter, would be like saying there might be some shred of truth to what Jackie says and what she is and his ARROGANCE does not allow for that. He was too arrogant in his belief of being correct to take ten seconds to do something that would have changed the whole plot of the show. Whitechapel is about sin coming home to roost. Arrogance/Pride in the case of Joe is a great example of that. If you're a true fan, I honestly believe you know this and understand the implications.

Don't put them all in the same van.

HE fucked himself over. His inability to be open minded because he was to arrogant to admit that there might be a slight, SLIGHT chance or at least a small miniscule worth in opening a letter and reading a note that would be absolutely harmless at its worst .. dug his own grave. And that's really what it comes down to.

[sobuildabeautifulcity]

Your disappointment warrants a disclaimer though, otherwise you're seeding a certain sentiment a lot of trolls and shill are trying to whip up. Don't be that person who thinks writers and actors owe you endless content for less than a living wage.

i respect your opinion and you’re not strictly incorrect but… thats not my point lol & you’ve kinda proved my issue.

the main part of my thoughts was that i have an issue with, and i quote: not being able to post when you’re experiencing multiple conflicting feelings without explaining all of them without being attacked.

it’s not only about the strikes, it’s anything that someone thinks you cant have complicated emotions towards if you don’t explicitly say so. my example was about the strikes because thats the most recent thing i’ve seen, but it’s more than that. not allowing people to express only their negative feelings in their own space online, simply because it might overlap with people being dicks intentionally about it isn’t the right way to go about it. for example, saying you’re disappointed because your favourite band pushed back their album release doesn’t mean you’re not sympathetic to the fact they delayed it due to health issues, it just means you’re disappointed because you were excited about it & had planned for it happening on a specific day. you expressing that upset online shouldn’t need to involve a disclaimer, because it should be implied - until proven otherwise - that you care about your band’s wellbeing. if you send a string of posts abusing the band for postponing it, yeh, youre a dick. but if you send one which is ‘aw man this sucks so much we wont get the album’, thats not something you should associate with the people being dicks about it despite it being negative in tone.

idk, i like to assume the best of people rather than thinking they’re dicks & don’t feel a complicated way about things.

if someone expresses disappointment about their plans changing due to something, that doesn’t mean they disagree with the thing that changes their plans? it solely means they are disappointed that their expectations for the coming time period changed & to assume otherwise unless proven only makes your worldview more negative.

this… insistence that all your feelings must be explained entirely and in full in order for you to grumble about something online is exhausting, and unnecessary if you simply assume the best of people. and, quite frankly, it is why i stopped using my tumblr for anything beyond reblogging stuff until recently.

i’ll add a disclaimer here, as well as the one that’s in the tags, bc my point is being proven lol: i support pretty much all unions & their decisions to strike (us police unions are not included hence my ‘pretty much all’). i am 100% sure that the wga & sag aftra should strike & fully support them doing so, shutting down hollywood is a great way to have bargaining power. the conditions they are expected to work under are abhorrent & they need better protection. it is also absurd to say that you can’t express disappointment about things you were looking forward to being cancelled without needing to add a disclaimer that your frustration is aimed at the other side of the negotiations for not capitulating, and not at the sag members. if you are posting your feelings on your blog, you should not need to caveat those feelings. the default of people assuming the worst of others makes the world a worse place.

i have a tendency to over explain my point so that it gets across, and often that means my coherence suffers lol. please bear in mind i am cognitively disabled & severely ill.

[marklikely]

and i have zero answers about this but i feel like we as a collective need to figure some stuff out bc we cannot keep having these constant threads about how all lgbt media is sanitized and boring these days in between callout posts for how every new lgbt media that isn't sanitized and boring is irredeemable problematic media you can't blog about

[heavenbarnes]

anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”

[ridingthatd]

◕◔ RYOMEN TWINS I

◔◕ itadorixfem!reader, sukunaxfem!reader, nsfw, heavy smut, twins breeding you, possessive, kinky asf part 1

the ryomen twins were known around the whole kingdom- more like they were feared by the whole kingdom, they hold a power no one could compare to, no one as much as dares to make eye contact with them- fearing for their life, they could destroy an entire nation just by lifting a finger- and nobody want to experience the agony of disobeying or displeasing them in anyway.

even though the twins look identically alike- they're the complete opposite of each other, after working for such a long time for them- the longest anyone worked under them without "suddenly" dying or got brutally killed. you learned to tell the difference between them.

sukuna ryomen. such a heartless man, who you can barely get a reaction out of- at first you always thought how can someone be so psychotic, how can someone hold so much evil in them, but you learned to accept it by time, you learned to live with seeing him take a bath- soaking in a solution of cursed energy formed from crushing and straining venemous creatures.

sukuna ryomen. was rough with the way he treated you, rough in a way he wouldn't care to ask about your opinion or care to open his mouth and tell you what he pleased- he would simply harshly pick you up by his lower four arms, make you sit uncomfortably with him in the disgusting of a bath- watching your every move as you gently scrub on his rough skin, and what always seem to leave you fascinated was the vibration that always leaves from his chest everytime you scrub him- purring like a huge beast. resting his huge face on the swollen of your breast as he breaths you in.

itadori yuji. he was the complete opposite of his brother, he held such a nice energy around him, he was never harsh nor aggressive in anyway towards you, he had such a gentle soul- that's at least how you felt, he would treat you like a delicate flower with so much gentility, you loved having silly little conversations with him, you loved the small walks he would walk with you- even as much as help you with laundry that he knew nothing about.

itadori yuji. he would always yell at his brother as soon as he takes a look at the finger marks he left behind from picking you up here and then, like a ragdoll- you could be doing dishes, sukuna make his way toward hold you 7 feets up the ground sniff you then place you down with a thud. itadori seems to hate it as he frowns at the marks rubbing them gently, he even goes as far as placing a kiss on them letting his lips linger there while his pink warm tongue peak out licking wetly- he makes an unbearable eye contact with you.

your heart pounds in your chest, as you hear yelling coming from itadoris office- you never ever heard itadori yelling the way he's yelling right now and it made you feel so uneasy, it made you wanna run and hide far away. you flinch once you hear the door open and loud footsteps echos in the hallway- the hallway you were in, mopping the floor.

from the shadow that's coming your way- you can tell it was sukuna with his two extra arms that his brother didn't have- or as they say he didn't wanna show. you tightly shut your eyes, holding the wooden mop praying to goddess that he would just to go his room.

but even the goddess couldn't save you from sukunas shadow that now tour over you- you can feel his warm breath on your neck as he leans in, sniffing you as always- but this time he didn't hold you nor pick you up.

you flinch again as you hear itadoris office door slam open and fast heavy foot steps comes directly your way. it was itadori- you couldn't recognize him, he look furious like a beast who was set out of the cage for the first time. glaring at sukuna.

" I fucking told you to stay away from her." he growls out, fuming at the mouth, sukuna rolls his eyes as he steps away from you and continue his way toward his bedroom yelling out a-

"I didn't touch her brother, have it however you want" that makes itadoris eyes snap to you- grabbing your arms harshly for the first time- scanning you for any marks that his brother could have left behind.

it looks like he wasn't satisfied as he picks you, holding you to tightly- to close to your liking you can feel his hard chest pressed harshly against your soft boobs- hard nipples, as he makes his way toward his bedroom closing the door loudly behind him.

he throws you on his bed, making you gasp- as you bounce, not letting you have enough time to process what's happening as he continues his scan- roughly holding your hips, pressing hard against the bed, not letting you move.

you were confused why, when was he this harsh, his soft touch were long forgotten as he hold you so painfully that you couldn't help but choke out a-

"it hurts" that seems to snap him out of it, as his eyes look at you gently and his touch loosen up a bit- looking at you worriedly but whatever his next thought was, it made his eyes darken again, his grip harden, fingers squeezing your hips, earning a pained groan from you.

"why? don't you like that" he whispers harshly against your ear as he leans in, you frown confused on what does he mean by that, you feel his warm breath against your sensitive neck, making you move your hips, trying to escape whatever is going on.

itadori trail his nose slowly down your ear taking deep breaths in, feeling his lips brush against your neck as he do, your heart is pounding as he settle one of his thick legs between your thigh, while the other is outside- caging you in.

"I don't think I quite understand what you mean, my lord." you gasp out, feeling him place his lips on the sensitive part of your neck, while his nose rub gently making it ticklish. itadori lean back to look you in the eyes- his eyes were dark, pupils expanded, staring at you hazely, as if he got drunk on your scent that he was sniffing in.

his eyes trails to your lips, your heart thumps-thumps as he leans in brushing his nose against yours still maintaining eye contact- his mouth half-open just like yours.

"I will show you" he growls out before he fully leans in and take your lips between his teeth- tugging them into his mouth, to meet his warm tongue that peak out to cares your lips, wetting them with his spit- before he fully take your lower lip in, and start sucking on it, making a hot loud wet sound,

this doesn't seem to be enough for him as he leans more in, pushing his knee into your sensitive cunt, making you moan into his mouth which only seems to drive him even more crazy, pushing his knee deeper just like his tongue that makes its way in your mouth just to meet yours.

circling wetly around it, it made you feel so light headed, the way he sucked your tongue into his mouth lapping on it likes he's a new born baby, you whimper into his mouth not realizing that you starting to arch your already dripping cunt into his knee.

"wanna breed you" itadori rasps out, as he break his tongue away from yours staring at the wet string that still connect your mouth together, he grinds his knee into your aching cunt, breathing hard against your lips.

"wanna fuck you" you whimper, your fingers tugging on his hair, letting your tongue out- in intention to tell him that you want his tongue inside your mouth again.

this move of yours drived him crazy, making him groan as he harshly gives you his tongue again swirling it around yours, while he line his throbbing cock against your leaking cunt, grabbing the hem of your dress and pulling it up- grinding against your panties only.

yours lips disconnect again with a wet pop sound, as yuji trail his rough large hands under your dress making their way toward your aching nipples- twisting them against his fingers.

"wanna be inside of you now" he moans out more like to himself- his hips thrusting crazily against yours, it was to much force- to inhuman, it made you bounce hard against the bed, you couldn't do anything but grab on his hair for support- which only seemed to make yuji go even more psychotic.

"fuck, want to feel your wet cunt on my face" he growls out, flipping you so fast- that he was laying down as you straddle his face, your panties was ripped into half by itadoris teeth- like it offended him for hiding your cunt from him.

he slapped your ass so hard- you were sure it was going to leave a purple mark, you cry out, "fuck sorry won't do it again" he coo at you rubbing the spot- but he lied, he does it again and again and again, your pussy was so wet, dripping, drenched as you ride your lords face, you can slide on his face from how wet it was with your juice.

slap, slap, slap, your ass was covered with purple hand marks "more-" he laps on your 5th orgasm, "I want fucking more of this sweet little cunt" he growls out eating your cunt up eagerly, your body was limp on top of his face, your full body weight was set on his face- but he only seemed to enjoy it.

"please no more i can't-" he slurps on your clit holding your thighs hard against his face, you choke on your sobs, "I can't please- please".

he gently stroke your ass, as he mutters out "one more", and you give him exactly what he asked for, squirting all over your lords face- it was to much pleasure, you were trying to move your hips away, but he held your thighs locked into his face not freeing you till he licked every single last drop.

you thought it was over as he place you down on the bed- but you judged to quick as you take a look at his ragging cock that was covered with his own cum, seeds leaking out cumming just from eating your delicious cunt out.

your cunt clench once itadori reveals his huge cock, wanting to be filled by it, "please please" you pathetically spread your thighs, showing him your puffy red pussy from being sucked by him.

"you want me to fuck you? you want to be fucked by your lord?" he darkly questions out as he lines his cock, pushing fully in before you got time to answer.

dark, all you can see is dark, pleasure, all you can feel is pleasure, as you open your eyes gasping for air, to see itadori thrusting his hips inside of you, so fast- so hard, chanting to himself.

"fuck you're so tight, so tight" he moans out drool drips from his mouth to yours, it was to hot, to hot, "I'm going to fill with my cum, you want it? you want it?" he crazily questions as he lock his hips with yours, hovering over you, grabbing your chin just to shove his tongue deep inside your mouth, fucking it just like he's fucking your pussy.

"fuck fuck gonna fill you fuuuuuck" he growls as you feel hot cum hit your womb, you twitch underneath him, it was all to much for you- for you little human body.

itadori didn't pull out his cock was spilling since forever, still spilling even as it leaks out into his bed sheets- you whimper, as you feel him rock his hips, fucking his cum into you.

he coo at you, kissing your sweaty forehead before he pulls out, and spread your thighs just to grin crazily as he looks at the way your red puffy pussy was dripping with his cum.

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ to be continued?₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ

: ̗̀➛ part 2 is 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

[nereidprinc3ss]

relax

in which spencer helps university student reader de-stress after a particularly exhausting assignment

18+ (smut) warnings: fingering, overstimulation, happy crying, lowkey softdom spencer, slight d/s dynamics, reader is referred to as a girl, ????idk i've never had to tag for smut before lols wc: 2624 a/n: been doing some insane literary cooking. lots of smut AND more fluff in the works (all uni reader... lol... ). idk if i love this but again need to fucking get it out of my word doc so here u go, PLEASE lmk if you like it!!

You don’t even realize the room has gone completely dark until Spencer comes in the front door and flicks on the light. 

“Why did you do that?” you snap immediately, looking up from your laptop screen for the first time in potentially hours, blinking hard as your eyes painfully adjust. Your boyfriend gives you an odd look. 

“Hello to you too...” 

“I’m sorry. Hi. How was dinner?” 

“It was good,” he says, crossing the room to the couch that has been your entire world for the past five hours. You sigh, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders when he leans down to kiss your head and set down a to-go box on the coffee table. “Have you moved since I left?” 

“...no,” you admit, moving your eyes dejectedly to the keyboard.  

“You made progress,” he appeases, leaning over you to angle the laptop upward. Immediately you wrench it away, holding it protectively against your chest. 

“Stop! I don’t want you to read it yet!” 

“I could help you with it though,” he pleads, bracing a hand on the arm of the couch. You look up into his hazel eyes, where he’s definitely playing up the puppy dog factor. His tie brushes your stomach, and he smells like lavender and clove and-- 

“You need to go away,” you realize, snapping back to reality and shrinking into the couch, away from him—trying to escape his all-encompassing sensory presence.  

“Wh- I just got back!” he scoffs, straightening. 

“You’re distracting me,” you accuse, throwing him a baleful look. 

“I’m literally offering to help you.” 

“And I’m respectfully declining because I care too much about your opinion to show you this essay until it’s less terrible. I really just need a couple more hours to finish it, please?” 

Spencer sighs, regarding your pitiful state before moving to sit down next to you. Automatically you move your legs out of the way before settling them in his lap and damn it he’s supposed to be going away. Your iron grip on the laptop involuntarily loosens a little as his hands begin to run back and forth over your legs. No—you must stay focused.  

“Spencer,” you whine, flopping your head back. You let the implied complaint hang in the air. 

“You’ve been writing all day. Your brain is exhausted, and your synapses aren’t firing at a rate that is intellectually productive.” 

“What is the point of having a brain if I can’t even use it half the time!” you almost-shout, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes until you see fireworks.  

The couch shifts and you feel the warm, robotic weight of the laptop unpin you as Spencer lifts it from your lap. “Don’t read it,” you beg, watching through parted fingers as he sets it on the coffee table, and relaxing slightly when he settles back into the couch.  

“Come here,” he says, holding out an arm. Too mentally exhausted to do anything but comply, you pull yourself up just enough to fall into him. Immediately he wraps his arms around you, one hand slipping under your shirt to rub your back in hypnotizing passes. “I think you burnt yourself out,” he mutters. 

You nod into his shoulder, surrendering yourself to his warmth, letting yourself sink into a lavender-clove fog, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into it. The darkness behind your eyes glows an inviting amber, threatening to pull you under...  

But the essay... 

“Stop thinking about the essay,” he demands. 

“But I have so much to do,” you sigh against his jacket, the words coming out muffled. 

“The best thing you can do now is give your brain a rest. I promise you you’re not making that paper any better if you’re exhausted.” 

“I am not exhausted,” you insist, although your eyes are still closed, “I’m just really stressed.”  

Spencer hums, continuing to rub your back.  

“Do you need me to help you relax?” he says innocently. 

Oh? 

One of your eyes opens to peer up at him suspiciously. He sweeps some of your hair out of your face. 

“Because I would be happy to.” A moment passes—him looking down at you fondly; you wondering if you’re picking up what he’s putting down. 

“And how would you go about doing that?” you ask suspiciously. 

“Orgasms reduce tension and stress and improve brain function.” 

Damn. Why did the nerdiest, most un-sexy pickup line ever just turn you on?

You groan, burying your face further into his shirt—mostly to hide any trace of a blush. 

“You know what else would reduce stress and improve brain functioning? Taking an Adderall and finishing my fucking essay.”  

“Angel, you're such a smart girl, and you are fully capable of doing whatever you set your mind to—but I will lock your laptop in my gun safe before I let you look at that essay again tonight.” He speaks so softly, and his fingers are still gently combing through your messy hair... all in all, you put up a good fight, right? Maybe you should just listen to him...

“... fine.” you say eventually, reluctant to give in too quickly even though the idea quickly has filled your stomach with butterflies. 

“Fine?” he says, pausing his motions as you turn your head just enough to look up at him. “Sounds like you don’t really want it, baby. Maybe we should just go to sleep. Or I could take you back to your-” 

“Spence,” you whine, gently grabbing the front of his shirt. Now he’s going to make you beg? As if it wasn’t his idea? Those puppy dog eyes of his are deceiving. 

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he sighs, hand moving from your hair to your outer thigh. 

“Please?” you whisper, dignity forgotten as you look up at him imploringly. 

“Lean back, sweet girl,” he says, helping you adjust your position til you’re lying against his chest, legs sprawled across the couch. Your head lolls on his shoulder, intoxicated by his close proximity. “Perfect. Such a good listener.” 

Normally, you’d be quick to make a defensive remark, but with the way he’s slowly hiking your shirt up, running his hands over your sides so lightly it gives you goosebumps—you're really in no position to argue. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands grow bolder in their explorations, crossing your stomach, fingers just slipping under the waistband of your shorts and skimming over your hipbones before coming back up. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs, and you nod lazily, apparently losing access to your language facilities after running them dry all day. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem good enough for your boyfriend. “Do you remember when the last time I touched you like this was?” 

Through the hazy blur of your exhaustion, you try to think back. Was it... two days ago? Three? More? 

“Almost a week ago,” he supplies the answer for you when you take too long. What? That can’t be right. 

But when you think about it harder... it is right. It was right before finals week started.  

An errant hand straying up your torso distracts you. “Do you remember what I did?” 

You flush. 

“You... yeah,” is the best you can offer, too flustered to say exactly what he did to your body. That stray hand moves over your breast. Your back arches just slightly at the stimulation through the thin fabric of your bra.  

Thankfully, he lets you off the hook.  

“I made you cum three times, right?” 

“Mhm,” you hum through closed lips, tense with anticipation as he finally slides both hands down to your shorts and wordlessly directs you to lift your hips so he can pull them all the way off along with your underwear. 

“You’ve been so busy lately, huh. Working so hard.” 

You unconsciously drop your bent legs open, brain too foggy to be insecure about how utterly bare you are—allowing him to slowly rub up and down your inner thigh. 

“I’m gonna make you feel good, honey. I don’t think three times was enough for such a stressful week.” 

You gasp when his fingers finally brush your clit, whimpering slightly when they just barely skim your entrance before tracing the wetness back up.  

“Give me your hand,” Spencer says, taking his own from between your legs and holding it up. You don’t even think about it, releasing your grip on the arm he now has wrapped around you and holding it out for him. At this point, you’d do anything he tells you to without hesitation.  

He takes the proffered hand, gently guiding it back between your legs. Your fingers meet slick, soft warmth. “Do you feel how wet you are?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, seeing how your fingers glisten when you pull them away. His remain, running slowly up and down your clit. Your brain seems to be vibrating in your skull as warmth spreads throughout your body. 

“Who’s that for?” 

“You, Spencer,” you whimper. He hums in approval before the room falls into silence as you both watch his teasing intently, your breath baited as you try to be patient. But your body isn’t with the program, you keep twisting slightly, your hips cant upward. “Please, please,” the words escape on a held exhalation as you finally break, arching your back against him as your search for more friction.  

Without warning, he sinks two fingers inside you. The slight stretch after not having taken anything in a week scratches an itch you didn’t even know you had, and you let out a broken moan. 

“I know, honey. You’re so good, I know.” Spencer kisses your head as he speaks over your cry, barely moving his fingers for a few moments while you get comfortable. 

Still you’re not ready for it when he withdraws and pushes back in. 

“Look at that,” he breathes. 

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, watching how your arousal completely coats his fingers as he slowly, slowly begins to fuck you with them. 

Again you feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs slightly—probably at your earlier insistence that you didn’t desperately want this. The laughter fades as you both become entranced by the sight of his fingers disappearing into you, and your stomach twists with pleasure. His pace remains languid, and he seems to delight in the filthy, wet sounds his hand is producing between your legs.  

“You okay, baby?” he asks after a moment, seemingly snapping out of some trance. 

“Uh huh,” you whimper. One particular drag of his fingers at just the right angle has you dizzy, and then he’s speeding up. Your jaw drops at the change in pace and your hips chase his hand, wanting even more. 

“So pretty,” he mutters as his other hand moves to spread you open.  

You attempt to shut your legs around his wrist, but instead he just ruts his fingers deeper into you, palm pressed against your clit. You attempt to twist away from the extreme stimulation, but he doesn’t allow it. 

“Too much,” you squeak, bucking your hips inadvertently. 

“No it’s not,” he states, like you’re talking about the weather. 

“Spencer, I really c- ah- can't!” 

“It feels like a lot, huh?” he asks soothingly, not letting up one bit. 

“Yes!” you cry, eyes stinging as tears begin to well. 

“You’re okay, angel. It’s just been a while.” 

You are so completely fucked. Each stroke of his hand feels like an electric jolt through your whole body. It is too much, but at the same time, pleasure is pooling deep in your stomach and at the base of your spine and you never want him to stop. You throw your head back onto Spencer’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut.  

“Relax,” he mutters, carefully bearing down the pressure across your waist with his arm to try and keep you from squirming. 

A rhythmic whine breaks through the barrier of your sealed lips as you focus all your energy into taking it, when the all-consuming need to kiss him hits you. You twist your neck to look up at him, observing the furrow of his brow and the way he’s tucked his bottom lip into a bite. Thankfully he notices your movement—his eyes dart from your own half-lidded gaze to your lips and he understands what you want. 

The kiss is messy and the angle is awkward and you’re moaning into his mouth half the time anyway, but it feels so good to have his lips moving on yours that you don’t care about any of it.  

“I—ah,” you cry into him, unable to form a coherent thought as your stomach drops like you’re mounting the peak of a roller coaster. 

His fingers again change their angle and he finds the spot inside you that makes your legs spasm. Attempting to hold in whatever noises you were making is now futile—the whimpers and pants turn to full-fledged keening moans interspersed with taut silences as you fail to breathe properly.  

Your wrench your gaze and lips away from Spencer to watch through a blurry haze the rapid movement of his hand between your bare legs, the way your hips buck and twist and the way your leg bends as he hooks his free hand under your knee and hoists it toward your chest. 

“You’re doing so well, honey. Being so good for me.” 

Moisture spills over from your eyes, tracing down your cheeks and down your neck as you begin to come with no warning and a desperate, broken cry. 

A string of praise from Spencer underscores your pleading moans, but you can’t focus on anything other than the buzzing warmth emanating from your core, the bright, pulsing white that blinds you and the feeling of stardust flowing through your veins. 

Your boyfriend continues pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you for a blissful few moments, before sensing the tail-end of your orgasm and bringing his fingers up to rub lazy circles over your clit. Aftershocks resonate from the hypersensitive area and make you clamp your legs shut around his hand as your toes curl and you attempt to squirm out of his grip. 

“Done! I’m done,” you squeak, rocking your hips back and forth to try and escape his toying. 

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, relieving the pressure of his hand between your legs and moving it to run over your stomach as you come down. 

You lie in silence for a minute, enjoying the liquid sensation weighing down your muscles and basking in the warm afterglow of your orgasm.  

“Shit,” you breathe shakily after a moment. Spencer chuckles. You manage to turn yourself over, laying your cheek on his shoulder and slipping your arms under his waist. He looks down at you as he moves on to massaging your back and bare hips, eyes full of warm adoration.  

“Feel better?” 

You hum an affirmation, wiping your eyes on his shirt. 

“Oh, honey, did I make you cry?” 

You laugh into his chest and nod, a few stray tears leaking from your shut eyes. “It’s okay. Not sad tears.” 

“What kind of tears?” 

“Orgasm tears,” you mumble, a tidal wave of exhaustion you’d been fighting all day finally washing over you. 

“That makes sense. Orgasms can be cathartic or even therapeutic depending on your head space. Major losses and life changes are often associated with sexual dysfunction but the opposite is actually just as if not more common. A spike in libido can—” 

Spencer pauses, looking down to see that you’re either asleep or close to it, and smiles to himself. You’ll probably be mad about it when you wake up, but he had to get you to stop thinking about that paper somehow. 

[l3viat8an]

Levi's favorite thing to do while watching anime with MC is fingering and/or fondling MC's boob/boobs. Levi makes comments about the show and asks for MC's opinion. Meanwhile, MC is just a whiny, whimpered, teary-eyed mess sitting on his lap or between in his legs. 🤤💜

Nsfw!

!!! Nonnie!!!- omggshsg that’s so hot 😩 especially the part about boobs

Levi and his obsession with your boobs literally just cuddling watching any anime-

Everything starts out innocent enough with you sitting in Levi’s lap as the show starts and then Levi’s hands start low playing with the hem of your shirt. He’s not trying to tease you, really!!! He’s just needs to keep his hands busy!!- yea, that sounds believable-

His fingers moving up your stomach, then up higher ‘n higher, while you try to focus on the screen and when his hands finally reach your boobs- fully cupping them, squeezing just a little, his thumbs running over your nipples-

Levi’s so engrossed in the anime playing that he doesn’t notice the way you gasp and let out whimpering little moans.

His hands keep squeezing and massaging, his fingernails digging into your soft skin…. building your anticipation…he gives your nipples some feathery light touches, then pinches them which makes your whole body jerk in his lap.

He doesn’t just stick to that tho, he’ll tweak and twist them too. he’s playing around with you. And then Levi says something about….the plot? Maybe. You’re not sure, after all you haven’t really been paying attention, he’s grumbling about how it doesn’t make sense and when you don’t reply Levi finally looks away from the screen and at you-

Your cheeks are bright red, eyes filled with tears from all his unintentional teasing. Levi’s mouth falls open a dry, “…..whoa..” leaving his lips- and that’s not really what you wanted to hear right now, meeting his eyes you beg, “Levi, please don’t stop….n-need more..” and you wiggle your hips against his again trying to get any friction you can down there. Levi’s mouth is still open a little bit and his eyes are still stuck on your face so he simply nods, hands still on your tits- now he wants to watch you, wants to see if you can really cum just from him playing with your boobs….

You’ll both end up coming in your pants before the episodes even over-

[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere!Alastor with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

Warning: aged-up!reader [in early to late twenties], obsessive behavior, implied violence, implied emotional and physical abuse, implied brainwashing, knowledge based on spoilers from the first two episodes of the 2024 series.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!

Hey guys, welcome back to another Hazbin Hotel fic, starring Hell's one and only Radio Demon, Alastor! This is a collaborative piece written with @isuckatwritingsobenice, whom I share a mutual adoration for Violet Evergarden, the anime and titular character who is in my humble opinion, one of the best written female protagonists I have seen in anime.

As always, bullying is not tolerated here. If you have nothing nice to say, please do not say it. Furthermore, if you believe the warnings listed above will make you uncomfortable, please leave now.

For those who have decided to stay, sit back, relax, and let's see what's going for tonight's broadcast :)

Alastor is someone who thrives on entertainment and chaos. Seeing the scourge of Hell striving to redeem themselves in Charlie’s hotel, only to fail as soon as they gave into the vices they’ve been trying to cure themselves of? That’s the only reason he agreed to help the princess with her passion project. He needed some inspiration after lacking it for so many decades! 

When you had arrived at the hotel with nothing except the clothes on your back and a suitcase that protected your precious Remington typewriter, the Radio Demon would not deny that he was amused to see a sinner who actually saw his advertisement on the television. After all, no one was taking Charlie seriously, and who would? Apparently you did, but for a different reason: you were looking for a job, a purpose. You said so in the interview, and you were willing to learn. When Vagatha asked what would be considered a flaw in your work ethic, you took off your leather gloves and showed her and Charlie  the alloy prosthetics that acted as your new limbs after losing them in the war.

Why you still had them and why your appearance was wholly human, you did not know. Would this be considered a flaw? You were not sure either. You are still learning about modern technology, especially the handheld devices called cell phones. 

Although the staff was in dire need of someone who could advertise the Hazbin Hotel on the Internet, the princess found something you could do and might be adequate at: gardening. More specifically, being the hotel’s groundskeeper. Someone who can maintain the hotel’s outward appearance and make sure the hell-grass or weeds don’t  get too out of control. You stood up from your seat, feet planted together and saluted Charlie, promising that you will do your best in a monotone voice.

The poor dear did get a little flustered from your actions, but Vagatha did not seem to mind, asking you to follow her upstairs so that she could show you your new room and give you the key. Your first day will be tomorrow. 

Oh, this will be fun~! Alastor thought with a wide grin. Someone new to antagonize and watch fall into the fiery pits of failure! Husk was starting to bore him anyway. 

And he was not disappointed. 

He saw you struggle with holding a garden spade, laying down carpets of fresh grass neatly without trying to crush it between your prosthetic limbs, carrying fertilizer and what flowers to plant! These entertaining events happened within the first week of being here. Is he sorry that his shadows purposely swapped the fertilizer bags and replaced the seed bags to plant roses with rat bait? Absolutely not! 

The more chaos that he created, the more entertained he will be. The anticipation to see you crumble from the pressure and expectations of dear Vagatha and Charlie is almost palpable, he couldn’t wait! 

However, you were not someone who gave up as easily as he hoped you would. 

You kept showing up every day at the exact time, and worked in the garden until Niffty had to drag you inside to have lunch. Then you stayed outside for a bit longer, making sure everything was ready for the following day. You even tried to help out in the kitchen, though you were still struggling to properly hold a knife and chop up vegetables for his jambalaya or cracking eggs in a bowl to help Niffty bake a cake at nine o’clock in the evening because she was bored and wanted something sweet. 

You carried heavy crates of liquor for Husk and even massaged his temples when he complained of a headache. When you discreetly switched out the liquor in his booze for water one time he held a grudge against you for pulling that stunt for almost a week. He eventually forgave you by preparing a Shirley Temple on the house after you politely rejected a whiskey on the rocks because you did not drink alcohol. 

Sir Pentious, the wannabe overlord, was utterly fascinated with your prosthetic limbs and had asked you to let him examine them. That comment earned him a low, menacing growl from Vagatha, spear in hand. The Egg Bois seemed to like you well enough that they tried to help you out in the garden when all they really did was make your job a bit harder. You still thanked them anyway. 

Angel Dust tried to take you shopping for a new wardrobe since you always wore the same outfit every day, but his definition of fashion bordered on risque and flaunting his assets. You were not here to flaunt your appearance, you were here to work, but you thanked him anyway. When he came back to the hotel, staggering inside on wobbly legs and his face covered in black-blue bruises, you were the one who caught him and helped him settle on a table as Husk pulled out a first aid kit. You allowed Angel to put all four of his arms around you and cry on your shoulders, carefully placing your skeletal prosthetics around his back. 

How is it that a single sinner could empathize with everyone here except him? 

This singular thought, this curious idea, is what motivated Alastor to find out more about you. And there is no else in Hell who can spill the tea on someone as accurately as his dear friend Rosie. 

A trip to Cannibal Colony was in order~!  So he did go there, proclaiming he’ll be back before dinner and ignoring Vagatha’s cursing as well as the princess trying to calm down her short-tempered lover. 

As it turned out, he had heard about you, it’s just that the topic in question did not interest him at the time. Rosie conjured up some old newspaper clippings, pointing at the image of you fighting against an exorcist in hand-to-hand combat during the Extermination. This article had been written five years ago, and the one before that? Three years ago. It seemed like you were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time, and you fought back because that is what your life had been before; surrounded by violence, vanquishing enemy forces when they crossed your path. Yet when you did make an appearance, everyone in Hell clamored for any scraps of information. Anything to find out who is the mysterious sinner who looked like a human and could rip off an exorcist’s head bare-handed. 

Now, you were staying at the hotel trying to put whatever remained of your afterlife together. That is your true purpose and now the Radio Demon knew. 

Alastor thanked Rosie for the information and the company, leaving Cannibal Colony in a merry mood. Everything was in place. Everything made perfect sense now.

If you were looking for a way to be useful in his newest project, he can make that happen. All he needs to do is nudge you in the right direction without Charlie and Vagatha around.

They are adorable when they are taking turns being a guard dog around you, you sweet little darling~. 

Taglist

@chroniccorvus

@imperfectbloodmoon

@doc-tooth

@nixie-writes

@riddle-simp

@tired-of-life-86

@blackmageoffandoms

If you would like to be tagged in future yandere hazbin x reader fics, please comment on this post here. If you do not comment, then you will not be added on the taglist.

[fuckmyskywalker]

Pussy pleaser — Anakin Skywalker.

— CW: 18+, smut! Anakin eating pussy, Anakin worshipping it, fucking it, basically existing just to eat cunt. Slay. (I may have overused the word "pussy" but hey, can you blame me?). — BASED OFF THIS THOUGHT I HAD AFTER BEING SLEEP DEPRIVED. || WC: 1.2k – Not proofread :P.

— A/N: IMPORTANT! I tried not to use a specific pronoun to refer to reader's vAGINA because I know some people that wanted a larger version of this don't go by she/her pronouns! I hope I did it well and if I missed something please let me know! Your opinion matters to me 🫶🏻. Woops, what's missing here?! ;)

Anakin is an exceptional lover, but if there's something he lacks… is patience.

Especially when it comes to you.

After a rough day, after a good day, to cheer up after some bad news, to celebrate after some good news, after the council either scolded/congratulated him… Anakin always ends his day buried in between your thighs. It doesn't even matter how, if it is his cock, his tongue, his fingers— As long as your pussy is involved, he’s in, figuratively and literally speaking. 

But like I said, his patience is little to none, and it shows. Anakin will not only overwork you, overstimulate you and completely ravish your sweet pussy at any given chance, time and place— but he also will give you a short time to even accommodate and keep up with his passionate urges. His large hands start caressing your thighs, trying to hold himself back every time but failing miserably, he will pry them apart slowly, trying to savor the moment (mostly for himself), tracing your skin with practiced ease. He knows every curve, every freckle and mole, Anakin has memorized every inch of your body and he is proud to know what makes you crumble and beg for more. 

Anakin tries to be gentle, but having your heavenly offer just inches away within his reach and not be buried deep inside you is a crime. He licks your pussy until you have no idea if you are this wet because of the arousal he provoked on you or his own spit.

 Which, let me add to the list how disgusting he is sometimes: Anakin is filthy, and his devotion to you only seems to make his obsession even worse. One of his favorite activities is parting your lips with his thumb, before licking a long, lazy stripe from your entrance to your clit— and then spit right on your cunt. He will throb like a horny teenager, he will hump the mattress of the cheap beds in the Jedi Temple like a desperate bitch while watching how his saliva slides and mixes with your own wetness. 

Speaking of his obsession, Anakin lives, fights and comes back home every day for you, of course… but for your pussy too. His favorite breakfast, meal and dinner. His favorite treat and his favorite prize. 

Countless times you had laid down on the bed, legs open wide like a cheap whore from a dirty brothel straight from the most dark, disgusting corners of Coruscant, with his head buried in between them, tugging on his blonde curls moaning and grinding his nose against your clit for him to mumble something so quietly you mistake it with an insect flying across the room. 

“I missed you.” He whispered, his blown out irises fixated on your pussy. “My pretty thing.”

The first time it felt flattering. It was nice to know your boyfriend missed you so much. You ignored him, thinking he was just eager. 

The second time, it was the same.

Same quiet murmurs, same praises: “God, I can’t get enough of you…” Anakin had his eyes closed, sucking on your clit and pausing every now and then to whisper sweet words to you. 

Sure, to you.

Over and over, you gobbled up his praises, his need, his lust for you. Anakin had the power to push you to heavens, to reduce you to a blabbering puddle, to lit up your darkness fantasies, so why stop him? He sounds like he’s enjoying himself, and who are you to deny him such pleasure?

There's always a breaking point though.

Remember how I mentioned how impatient Anakin is? Well, this time it didn't worked on your favor. Instead of prepping your pussy, allowing you to have a nice, slippery stretch to be able to fit his thick cock without any discomfort, Anakin couldn't wait. It wasn't particularly painful, but a sharp sting was there, something momentarily but significant. Anakin bottomed out, groaning loudly at how tight your pussy was in that moment, his horny, selfish mind not being able to register his lack of consideration.

“You are tighter than usual.” He huffed, his fingers digging in the supple flesh your waist. You tried to protest, to tell him he didn't stretch you first, but he began to trust relentlessly, hitting your sweet spot over and over. 

Every complaint quickly died in your throat, replaced by moans of pleasure and delight. Even if it felt amazing, your pussy was still struggling to accommodate to his size, and Anakin, the little shit, was in heaven. 

“You missed me? You missed my cock pretty thing? Missed me using you like a toy?”

Despite your blissful state, something about his words just seemed… off. 

Almost as if he wasn't talking to you. 

Anakin’s hips slammed against yours again and again giving you no break at all. Your hands had to grab the edge of the wooden bed frame at some point, the discomfort of his girth now long forgotten. He hovered over you, staring at your pretty, glassy eyes, watching them roll back, silently beg him for more and then looked downwards, locking his devil eyes with your pussy. If there was something Anakin would never, ever, not in a million years get tired of, was the breathtaking view he had every time he had the privilege to witness how your tight little hole struggled to keep him inside, as if your delightful, hot cunt was desperately trying to keep him inside forever.

“Fuck… I missed you too, wish I could stay inside all fucking day.” His incessant gibberish began to have an effect on you, your hazy mind slowly putting the pieces together. 

“Anakin—” You called him with such a tone that he snapped out of his trance. 

“Yes?” He asked, not stopping his movements, just slowing them.

Next, a question you never imagined asking. Your sweaty, flushed face had a hint of confusion, a pretty valid confusion.

“…Are you talking to my pussy?”

Anakin froze, looking almost— guilty?

“What if I am?” He answered your question with another question, something you hated. 

“Anakin, answer the question.” You sighed, waiting for his answer as if you two weren't naked on his bed, him buried balls deep inside of you. 

Your boyfriend pouted, was he really throwing a tantrum? “Maybe.” He whispered. In response, you laughed quietly trying not to ruin the moment. It wasn't odd, probably a bit perverted and a bit— hot? The fact that Anakin was so in love with your pussy he treated it as if it was another whole being worth his wholehearted attention. 

“I think it’s… hot” Your words were followed by a shrug, staring at him, batting your eyelashes.

Giving him that look.

And if Anakin Skywalker isn’t the most patient person in the Galaxy, he certainly is the designated pussy pleaser of the Galaxy. 

He pounced again, wasting less than five seconds to resume his reckless assault on your poor, overworked pussy. “See?” He practically growled, his teeth sinking in his lower lip, curving into a wicked smile. “This tight, little cunt missed my big cock so much.” He is on full rampage mode, fucking you brainless. 

“Feel how I stretch your tiny hole, angel?”

“Look at you, is my cock too big for you?”

One hand let go of your hip, grabbing your face and squeezing your cheeks, breaking eye contact with your bodies merged into one and forcing you to look at him. His face was inches away from yours, his hot breath hit your face and a string of drool falling from his lips landed on your lower lip. The fire in his eyes was incomparable.

“This pussy belongs to me, not you, do you hear me?”

[chrollohearttags]

ace loves more than anything to tease his girl! Sure, he plays the occasional prank or pokes fun at the way you eat. Even throwing around a silly nickname here or there..

but nothing brings him more satisfaction than watching you writhe and squirm on top of him. A firm hand clutching the back of your neck to keep you in place against his chest. Meanwhile, your legs are slightly parted as he pushes that toy in and out of your little cunt..it’s practically sucking it in. That silicone dildo marked with a different color at each inch to show how far you can take it. And at the moment, you’re just not meeting his standards.

“Babyyyy..please..”

“Unt uh..not yet, pretty girl..you’ll get mine when you can handle all of this.”

a promise he intended to keep. As it stood, you couldn’t even fit it to the halfway point without you coming undone. Cream and slick coating the tip and part of its shaft. Trust, he wishes it were him..wish that he could grip your asscheeks in his hands and bounce you up and down on his cock right now. Wishing he could make you come until those pretty little eyes rolled back…that he could fill it up with every last remnant of but he had to offer. But he’s got the patience of a saint. He doesn’t mind playing the long game so long as he got what he wanted in the end. So he’ll continue working that little pussy over..stroking at the same pace he would if it were him inside of you. Taking some out only to shove it back in gently. Listening to the pop and squelch of your tight walls constricting around it. “Look how fucking tight you are, babe..you’re barely opening up.” The tent in his pants is only growing larger but he can’t cave just yet. Not when he’s got you nearly trained to his liking. Finally meeting the thrusts of that fake thing..he’s confident you’ll have no problem taking that dick once he decides to give it to you! But for now, he’s enjoying this view. Watching you rut yourself against his thigh as he keeps pushing it in and out. Your nails clawing at his chest whilst his lips softly press to your temple. You’re growing anxious, getting restless and even start pawing at his obvious hard on. But he’s equally quick to swat your hand away. It’s not the right time in his opinion.

“..I know you’re getting impatient, gorgeous. But trust me, you’ll be glad I made you wait for it.”