#should I name my rapist

[blackmagictrait]

this isn't gonna win me any friends but I won't pay a dime to see movies made by/starring people who signed the petition to free convicted child rapist roman polanski, and that includes guillermo del toro and wes anderson. you can love their movies all you want but paying to see them puts money in the pocket of people who publicly support rapists going free. 🤷🏾‍♀️

[arnold-layne]

so many years of writing non-con, and i just got my first “why are you writing rape like it’s hot” comment on my fic! is there a bingo or something so i can cross this off

[joy-haver]

there isn't a "kill all the ____" that will fix the problems of the world, because, 1. you probably can't. 2. if you did, more of them would probably come into existence, or 3. other people would come to fit the same social position. 4. There isn't a group of Fundamentally Bad Evil People that Cause All The Problems, because 5. Harm isn't caused by a type of person. everyone causes harm and an effective system of addressing harm has to contend with that. 6. you will end up expanding the definition of ____ to include whoever else you want to kill anyway. which will suck. 7. Destruction without building will leave nothing behind. New harms will arise. Old harms will continue. Because there is nothing to replace them. There is nothing Helpful being done. a better world isn't created by just getting rid of all the bad stuff and calling it a day. you have to actually make something that meets peoples needs. 8. structures of power and harm sometimes maintain themselves even if no one intends them to or purposefully wants them to. 9. systems of power will end up finding a scapegoat. they will convince you that some marginalized group are the real ____ and you should focus on them. and in your zeal and blood thirst you, or at least some of your allies, will fall for it. And you will commit atrocities. 10. The world that is created can only come from the world that is. And look, whatever group you are thinking of -- yes I mean them too. Pedophiles, rapists, murderers, sociopaths, nazis, billionaires, cops, you name it. Harm and oppression is far too complicated to ever be solved with Finding The Right Group To Kill. And there are lots of really great arguments to be made about why eliminationist rhetoric is ethically bad, or historically questionable, etc. I am open to that being added on and talked about too. But my point is that It Will Not Accomplish Your Desired Results. You Will Have Committed Atrocities and You Will Have Failed At Achieving Your Initial Goal.

[mizandria]

the core of my entire view on punishing rapists is very simple and it's that that they just could have not committed it. sure it's tough to have your name publicly displayed on the sex offender registry but you should have thought about it before and you only have yourself to blame and it's not our responsibility to rally for making things easier for you. you deliberately ruined somebody's life for few seconds of pleasure. you can't reverse it or make it right like you could with theft. the other crime you can't reverse is murder but even this you can commit out of self-defense, by accident even. i really don't see anything that you could gain from rape and anything that would excuse rape and i don't see any mitigating circumstances besides severe psychosis or coercion into raping someone which is super rare. again you could have just not done it. especially that to rape someone you have to deliberately go out of your way and most likely put an extreme effort. there's really few things more heinous than rape and it should be punished accordingly.

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel acts like he doesn’t like you until he comes across your rapist.]

TW: MENTION OF RAPE. Angst

“What did he do?” His voice was low, eerie like, suddenly he looked angry as you stood still before him.

Ever since Tess had died Joel became more unbearable to deal with. The two of you had only known each other a couple months before she passed away but never got close to one another, if anything Joel acted like he didn’t like having you around. He barely held any conversations with you unless it involved a plan he needed you to be on the same page with him about. Silently he’d share food with you but that was pretty much as far as he’d go.

“Get up, we’re gonna keep moving today” Joel woke you up out of your sleep gathering his belongings as you sighed.

“I thought you said we’d stay here for two nights-“

“Plans changed. We’re leaving soon” you groaned as you got on your feet and began to pack. This journey to Marlene seemed a lot longer than you thought it would be.

“Are you sure Marlene even has what you want?” You asked with a sigh. He didn’t respond instead handing you your weapon so you could follow him out.

Walking with Joel through the woods your foot accidentally slid down a rock making you gasp loudly. Joel quickly turned with his knife ready to attack only to find you straightening your shirt.

“I slipped” he didn’t respond only looking irritated and turned back to continue walking. You didn’t understand why Joel always seemed so bothered by you, had he not promised Tess that he’d look after you, he wouldn’t have stuck around with you. Tess never shared to him the true reason why she wanted him to care for you but when you first met her you had confided in her the brutal things that you overcame. One of them being that you were held captive for a couple months by a group not far out, one of the men in their group being your rapist, you were always afraid to come across this man again. Little did Tess know, this very same man was running things alongside Marlene.

“Joel, have I done something to upset you at any point?” You asked trying to keep up with him.

“No” he responded without looking your way.

“So what’s your issue?”

“I don’t have a damn issue, now let’s keep moving” you gave up at that point not saying a word. Joel truly didn’t have a specific issue with you, he just chose to not allow himself to get close to anyone ever again, he had lost too much.

Finally making it to Marlene’s you followed behind Joel walking in. You had no idea whom Marlene was or anything about the place but being with Joel you just did as he said. Standing beside him a few feet away you were introduced to Marlene. She seemed like a woman who was strictly about business, she spoke to him of the car she had promised.

Of course, tomorrow it would be ready.

You didn’t speak during their conversation, not thinking much of anything until the door opened and a man walked in. Instantly your heart sunk, your stomach turned as the man stood by Marlene confidently before noticing you.

“This is my right hand man, he does what I say, when I say and can always be counted on” Marlene introduced the man beside her, you found yourself unable to speak. You knew who this man was, how could you not?

Edward….you’d never forget his name, one year ago this man made your life a living hell. Your throat felt like it was closing up, your heart racing-

“Look who it is” Edward grinned towards you making Marlene raise a brow at you. Joel turned to you as you looked down taking a deep breath.

“Small world” Marlene muttered but Joel noticed something off with your reaction.

“Anyways, Joel” Marlene got his attention explaining what would happen.

“Tomorrow before the evening I should have a car for you, for now you two can stay in a room I have prepped” Joel didn’t like the idea of staying an extra day but silently nodded and took the offer. Thankfully Edward and Marlene left the room before someone else led you to the room you would both stay in. Your heart felt like it would come out your chest but you couldn’t find it in you to speak. Joel walked ahead of you opening the door to the room. You stood by the door closing it behind you watching as he placed his backpack on the bed without looking back. Your body felt as if it would collapse any moment, you couldn’t stay here, you couldn’t be around Edward yet you knew you couldn’t say a thing.

That night Joel noticed you seemed a bit fidgety but he didn’t say a word. He lay back on his bed and watched as you double checked the locks on the door twice before laying down.

“You know we’re safe here right?” You looked up not noticing Joel had been watching you.

“Y-yeah” you nodded before turning over and facing the wall. That night you didn’t sleep, if anything you hoped Joel would sleep so he wouldn’t hear you crying in the middle of the night. Of course that didn’t work, at one point Joel opened his eyes thinking he was hearing something but he couldn’t make out what it was until he looked over and noticed you seemed like you were trembling. Quickly he sat up unsure of what to do, slowly he got up from the bed and noticed you were whimpering in your sleep. He didn’t know what the hell to do, he’d never seen you like this before but he knew damn well what it felt like. Delicately he placed his hand on your shoulder and tried to wake you.

“Hey” you continued to whimper but wouldn’t open your eyes. Joel cleared his throat and leaned in closer to you prepared for you to be startled.

“Hey wake up” he shook you a little harder making your eyes quickly open. You gasped unaware who was near you, unaware that you had even been dreaming, raising your hand ready to hit whoever it was Joel caught your wrist in mid air.

“Easy, honey”

You looked up at him confused, you hadn’t even realized you fell asleep now here was Joel looking down at you with concern. Once he was sure that you knew it was him, he released your arm as you tried to catch your breath.

“I’m sorry” you whispered.

“It’s alright, just havin’ a bad dream is all” he looked at you for a moment curious to ask you what was it that made you so upset but didn’t say a word.

“I’m right here if you need me” he motioned towards the bed on the other side of the room. You quietly nodded and watched as he got back into bed. Turning away from him you could feel the embarrassment from what had just happened yet you were surpsied by how gentle he handled it. It was a new side you both had seen of each other.

The next day you did your best to stay clear from wherever Eduardo could be, and so you decided to stay in the room.

Just one more day of this, one day and you’d be gone. Joel explained to you that he would be going over something with Marlene leaving you by yourself. You assured him it was fine and sat on the bed reading a book you always carried around after making sure the door was locked. Sometime had passed when you heard the door unlock and you figured it was Joel. Laying comfortably facing the wall you flipped the page hearing the door close behind you.

“What happened with Marlene?” You asked when you felt the touch of a hand on your arm making you turn to see it was the very person you had been trying to avoid.

Edward

Quickly you jumped up, your back against the wall as he smirked at your reaction.

“It’s been a while” you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t believe he was right in front of you.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost” he chuckled placing his hand on your thigh. If you could move any further away you would’ve, he could see how anxious he made you.

“Relax, sweetheart I’m not gonna do anything” he licked his bottom lip pushing his hand further up your thigh.

“I just wanted to say hi to an old friend”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek as you tried to turn away.

“It’s a shame you’re leaving tomorrow, thought we could’ve had some fun” he laughed walking back out of the room and closed the door shut.

In shock you sat there with disgust, the simple touch or his hand on your thigh making you sick to your stomach.

You couldn’t do this, you didn’t care about a damn car no matter how badly you both needed it. Quickly you got up running to the door locking it shut once again afraid he would return.

Where the hell was Joel…all you wanted to do was leave.

After what felt like forever you finally heard the door begin to unlock, your heart jumping at the sound.

“Joel?” You called out worriedly to see his face as soon as the door opened.

“Yeah, it’s me” he walked past you not noticing the panic attack you were feeling in that moment.

You watched as he fold a paper and placed it in his backpack, a knot in your throat you struggled to speak.

“Joel” you finally were able to utter a word in a soft whisper. Going through his backpack he didn’t respond not having heard your voice. You struggled to speak again, stomach turning just at the thought of your rapist knowing where you were…the fact that he came to you when you were alone..

“Joel” you spoke a little louder where he was able to hear you.

“Yea” he responded as he zipped up his bag.

“Joel…I can’t stay here another night” you blurt out.

“What?” He asked confused with your statement still not looking back.

“We’re fine here, it’s just till the afternoon’” he assured you making your panic rise.

“No, I…Joel I can’t stay here” he noticed how your voice trembled and slowly turned to you. His eyebrows furrowed once he noticed the worry in your eyes.

“What’s the matter?” He stood straight fully facing you.

“Can we just go?” You didn’t want to give the reason, you didn’t want to speak of it.

“We’re getting the car tomorrow, its just one more night-“

“Joel please” you whispered taking a deep breath making him take a step closer. He stood silent, he could tell something had terrified you.

“Somethin’ happen while I was gone?” He asked making you quickly shake your head.

“No, no just please-“ you began to hyperventilate.

“I can’t, I can’t-“ you struggled to breathe when someone knocking on the door made you run into Joels arms. Confused he looked down at you slowly placing his hands on your back sensing the true horror you felt.

“Hey, hey it’s alright, it’s alright” he whispered feeling you shake in his arms. It was like the night before, all over again only this time something in your waking life was scaring the shit out of you. The sound of another knock making you grab onto his shirt.

“Give me a minute!” He called out feeling you hide your face against his chest.

“Hey” he whispered low looking down at you but before he could say another word Edwards voice heightened your fear.

“It’s me, Edward” your eyes widened as you silently began to shake your head.

“What is it, darlin’?” Your panic not allowing you to realize the softness Joel had in his voice with concern over you. The door suddenly opening sending you rushing behind Joel.

Edward appeared at the door.

“I was just making sure you guys had what you needed” a smile Joel didn’t trust appeared on his lips as he leaned over to get a peak at you. You felt Joel’s hand reach behind you holding you against him.

Edward could see the defensive look in Joel’s eyes and wondered if you had told him anything.

“What’s wrong with her?” He asked testing what he would say.

“I got her” is all Joel responded with as Edward looked at him curiously. Not saying another word Edward took a step back giving Joel a nod before leaving the room. Joel waited until he disappeared from his site before giving your thigh a tap behind him.

“He’s gone” he assured you making you slowly peak over his shoulder to see the empty hallway that led to the room. Quickly you ran to the door shutting it closed and locking it with each lock it had.

“We need to get our stuff and get out of here now” you ran to grab your bag and his before he tried to stop you.

“Wait a minute, wait-“ he grabbed you by your arms stopping you before you grabbed anything else. Joel was struggling to understand what exactly had you so afraid of this man.

“Joel, we need to go-“

“Talk to me for a minute”

“No! There’s nothing to talk about, I am not staying here!” You screamed trying to break free from his hold.

“What the hell did he do to you?!”

“Nothing!” You tried to shake his hands off you once more but failed.

“We can’t leave without that car, we need that car if we wanna make it-“

“I don’t care! I’m not staying here with him!”

“He’s not gonna do anything to you, darlin’ I promise you that-“ you shook your head in frustration that he wasn’t understanding.

“He won’t lay a finger on you-“

“He already has!” You suddenly blurt out silencing Joel. An intense look in his eyes as he took a deep breath looking down at you.

“What did he do?” His voice was low, eerie like, suddenly he looked angry as you stood still before him.

“It was long ago” you whispered.

“Doesn’t matter” he quickly responded.

“I had told Tess, I never thought I would see him again….it was a year ago…I had nowhere to go and he said he would help me. He’s the man who raped me.” you looked down as a tear rolled down your cheek.

“Did he come in here while I was gone?” He leaned in closer. You looked up and hesitantly nodded when he abruptly walked out past you charging down the hall.

“Joel!” You called out for him trying to keep up but all Joel could see was red.

“What are you doing?!” You yelled as he kicked the door open where Marlene and Edward both were. Without warning he yanked up Edward by his collar throwing him against the wall as Marlene stood up.

“Joel what the hell are you doing?”

“Stay out of this” he looked at her with a look you had never seen and grabbed Edward once again as he struggled to get on his feet.

“Whatever she said she’s a lying bitch!” He tried to poorly defend himself causing Joel to punch him repeatedly. In shock you stood in the doorway watching it all play out, Joel had lost complete control until Edward was a bloody mess.

“Oh my god-“ you whispered.

Joel stood up and walked towards Marlene who backed up not knowing what he would do.

“Give me the fucking keys” he spoke out of breath. Not even trying to fight him she opened the drawer and tossed him the car keys before he looked back at Eduardo.

“Should be more careful of who you have workin’ for ya. Got a rapist on your hands” Joel walked out of the room without looking at you in the eye, taking your hand he led you out.

In disbelief you walked alongside him trying to keep up, at one point looking behind you.

He still wouldn’t say a word.

Joel opened the car door for you and quickly got in the drivers seat before driving off.

Speeding down the road he didn’t take his eyes off it before abruptly pulling over. You could see him though the corner of your eye turning his body fully toward you, you didn’t know what to expect.

“You don’t ever keep somethin’ like that from me again. We clear?” You nodded in silence looking down at your lap.

“We would’ve never stayed there for even one night had I know what he done to you. You ever feel unsafe again I need ya to tell me and you tell me right away”

“Yes Joel” you whispered.

Turning back towads the road he pulled off feeling he came off kind of harsh towards you which wasn’t what he wanted. Unexpectedly you felt him place his hand on your lap bringing you a sense of calmness. He slowly entangled his fingers with yours without looking your way, you had no idea what this meant but one thing was for sure..

Joel made you feel safe.

[shojizbae]

My Rave Babies

Spencer Reid x Reader

rave baby part two

For three weeks, your coworkers had been barraged nonstop about your scandalous habits. "So, listen to any good EDM?" or " Going to any parties?" had been ringing in my ears all week. The team had managed to sneak in puns during a case.

"Well, that sheriff was just raving, man." Derek leaned against the counter and brought a paper cup to his mouth

"Enough," I groan and toss my head back

"C'mon, you can't just tell us you used to go to raves and then not take us," Emily explains

"We are in the dead of the midwest. Will a serial rapist be on the loose, and you're thinking about going to a rave?" I fill up a paper cup with coffee

"Well, do you know of any back home?" JJ offers, sliding effortlessly into the conversation.

"JJ, you have kids," I whine

"Will can watch them for the night." She refutes

"I can't. I'm going back to the murder case before this town is traumatized further." It's a less effective duck-out, but it draws attention away. Hotch gives me a bit of a look as I rejoin a discussion with an exhausted look.

"I hope you didn't stay up all night partying." He teases

"No, I got a full night's rest. I'm ready to take this guy in." Deny. Deny. Deny.

The case came to a close two days later, with the man castrating himself and then slitting his throat. Unfortunately, the connection that all of the victims had was that they frequented the same club. An EDM / Rocker club with very Rave-like vibes. The jokes flew on the plane ride home.

"Alright, alright, fine. I'm going to call my old friend. She'll let me know what's going on in town."

"Really?" Morgan jumps at the statement

"Yeah, don't make me regret this."

~

It was four days later that a festival would be in town for the weekend. I informed the team that tickets needed to be bought. I also let them know they should be on high alert for roofies and perverts. Skimpy clothes and loud music were catalysts for freaks.

"So you're really knocking the dust off?" Morgan holds an FBI mug up to his lips. He's got an all too-full-of-himself grin on his smug little face.

"Yeah, you're coming too?"

"Yeah, so is Emily."

"And me!" JJ holds each of my shoulders, "I'm so excited, Will hasn't stopped ogling the outfit in my closet. He said he needed to borrow some floss and held it up on the hanger."

"Is anyone else coming?"

"Yeah, Penelope and Spencer," Emily says

"Reid?" I nearly snort my coffee out

"That's my name." He traipses into the kitchen and dumps half the can of sugar into his mug.

"I figured a rave would be a little out of your comfort zone. You're really coming?"

"I-i-It is. But I'm trying some exposure therapy."

"I thought that has been disproven." Emily counters

"Clinically, yes. But some of the results of those who have conquered fear through exposure therapy are too nice to pass up. You know, in recent studies-"

"Yeah, we get it you're going." Derek cuts him off

"So, have you picked out an outfit?"

"It's no Halloween, but I figured I should just wear what I always do."

"What?"

~

The night came faster than I had expected. One night, I was filling out a report on a serial arsonist; the next, I was tying myself into a bikini and zipping up giant platform boots. I put on a silky kimono to disguise the scandalous outfit. We all taxied to the nearby party meeting to get our tickets and a wristband checked. Emily and JJ looked phenomenal. Penelope was show-stopping, though. A galaxy-printed dress, giant boots, and fishnets, bejeweled with bracelets and a bucket hat.

Derek was primarily shirtless, though he found a neon fishnet shirt and tactical boots over some burning man cargo shorts. Finally, Reid was the last of the group. Surrounded by a thousand people in their skivvies, he stuck out like a sore thumb in gray slacks, a purple pinstripe button-down, and a sweater vest. The most crazy part of his outfit was his mismatched DC and Marvel socks.

"Wow, you look-"

"You look," I motion up and down at him. "You know, for the youngest on the team, you look like you're babysitting." He laughs, but it seems like he's shriveling on himself.

"Don't worry, you look great," I reassure and slide my hand up and down his bicep reassuringly. Even if I'm typically a touchy person that gesture might seem too forward for coworkers so I retract my arm awkwardly.

"Dang, (Y/n), where were you hiding that body?" Emily came and patted me on the ass and then slung her arm over my shoulder.

"Ok, tipsy, why don't we get you some water?" I unfurl her from me

"That sounds great," Reid clears his throat. "My throat is feeling a little dry." Emily wraps herself around me, and JJ slings an arm over Reid's shoulder. Morgan follows behind us, and we find some bottles of water that are way overpriced. Music begins to bump behind us, and I drag the group into the heart of the crowd. Morgan rears off when he finds some girls eyeballing him. Penelope follows Derek to a group of fun.

JJ and Emily stay close by but jump and sway with the thrumming music. Reid looks out of place like a black sheep.

"DOC!" I shout over the loud music

"Yeah!"

"You look stiff!" I jump around and scream at him.

"I'm not much of a dancer. Maybe I should just go home."

"What?" I stop jumping. C'mon, you've just got to feel the music." I take a step closer. Thanks to the giant shoes I wear, I'm much closer to his face than I usually am. I loop my fingers into the belt loops on his hips and take another step closer. "C'mon, man, you've just got to feel the rhythm." with my hands, I make him sway his hips to the beat. With a bit of encouragement, he starts to do so by himself.

"Ok, just jump around. Let yourself feel free." I twist and jump to the ear-splitting music. He raises his arms apprehensively, and I fling mine on top of him to show him it's fine. With my permission, he raises them and starts to flail freely.

"Alright, pretty boy, get into it." Derek teases

"Don't listen to him. You look great." I jump and swing my arms like a toddler. Lost in the moment, I spin around to show off my back and shake my hips. I lose my control and dance like a maniac. I back up onto Reid and sway with him. As I feel eyes on us, Reid jumps away from me.

"Are you two having fun?" JJ drawls

"Have you been drinking?" I shout

"A lot!" She responds

"I'm having so much fun. Why did you stop this?" Emily screams

"The hangover you'll have tomorrow? Yeah, have fun taking a jet ride with your ears trying to compress into your skull. And one time I caught a nasty STI from hooking up with someone in a port-a-potty."

"What ew," Emily fake retches.

"Don't worry, I took antibiotics." The music came thrumming through the speakers as a new DJ started their set. Immediately, I recognized her and started leaping like a manic shrimp. "Oh my god, I love this song!" I twisted around and grabbed each of Reid's wrists.

"C'mon, dance with me!" my mind disappeared in the bass. Nothing else mattered but the feeling of my feet pounding into the dirt and the occasional collision of Spencer's limbs. Slowly, the thrumming of the tempo migrated to my ankles.

"Alright, it has been a long time since I've danced like this. I need a break."

"Yeah, I don't think these are the best dance shoes either." there's sweat on his brow, but he holds up one of his feet to show off the brown loafers.

"Let's find the rest of the group," I whisper scream in his ear. In the proximity, I feel my torso press to his. I nearly roll my ankle and he catches me by my hip. He stands me back up and steadies my hips.

"Ok, let's get you to a cab," We find Derek quickly. He only has one girl who won't let go of his bicep tonight. Emily, JJ, and Penelope cling back to us, and we leave the grounds all slightly limping. We all file into a taxi and people filter out of the car slowly.

"I think I'm going to get out here and just take the metro home." JJ and I are the only two left in the vehicle as Penelope gets out of the car.

"What no, just stay in the car. I'll drive you home."

"No, that's far too much."

"I could drive you home." JJ offers as we turn down the corner of her street."

"No, you live further than her."

"Reid, I'll drive you home," I demand.

"Alright, you two have a good night." JJ slinks out of the cab, and we watch Will open the door, and she leaps into his arms.

'the kids are sleeping.' I read from his lips

"They're going to have a fun night." I snort. Reid shrinks on himself again. "C'mon, you've had to have some sort of fun like this."

"No,"

"No?" The cab takes us to my neighborhood, and we get out. Reid insists on paying the driver. I let him in and opened the front door. He takes the same space on my couch and groans from the pain. I bring two cans of lemon seltzer water and slump down with my legs across his lap on the couch. I crack the cans and hand one to him.

"Oh, thank you," he takes it, and I take a big slurp of mine. I extend a foot up and put my ankle near his face

"Could you unzip me?"

Uh, uh, sure." He holds my ankle and tugs the zipper down the inside of my calf. Once it's down, I use my other foot to push it off with my other foot. I hold up the second foot and he obeys, tugging off himself.

"Thank you, I roll, crack my ankles, and sigh in relief. "Whew, those were killing me." I start to roll down my thigh-high fishnets.

"Uh, would you like to go to the bedroom to get changed?"

"No, I'm fine like this." I pull the second sock off. I readjust the slipper kimono and tug one of my blankets up my shoulders. I twist around to lie on Reid's chest, straddling his leg.

"Uh, what are you,"

"I'm tired, Spencer." I dig into his chest with my own and loop my arms around his neck. I readjust myself even more around him. His tie stabbed me in my temple, and I tugged it off his chest.

"Uh (Y/n), what are you-"

"Calm down," I say, undoing his top buttons for the skin-to-skin contact my body craves. Your chest is warm." I cuddle into it and kiss his collar.

"I had a good night, Spencer," I sink further into his frame and pull the blanket on harder. I feel a hand thread its way into my hair but dreamland takes me away.

"I had a good night too."

[misguidedasgardian]

The course of Nature, part (2)

First Part

Pairing: Negan x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of Negan’s brutality, cursing, implied coercion and kidnapping, mentions of polygamy, (c’mon guys, everything related to Negan in the Sanctuary), talking of periods and pregnancy, thoughts about abortion, sensitive content regarding pro-choice… SMUT, a soft mommy kink, rather pregnancy kink, a little biting and a little blood, Negan being a horny jackass.

might miss some warnings. 

TWD Era: Alexandria, Negan Era, (season 7) 

Notes: Seeing Negan saying, “Oh my, look at this little Angel!” and grabbing Judith from her crib did something to me, and here it is 

“Why don’t you want to be my wife?” he asked her, amused 

“Negan, I know you are like a rabbit or a jackass… you are horny and you hump the first thing you see, but I’m like a cool Eagle, or a wolf… I mate for life” she answered simply. And it was so clever he wasn’t even mad, he chuckled darkly watching her intently, hoping to burn the shape of her body and her face in his mind forever

“You are acting like someday I’m going to get bored of you and just let you leave” he whispered in her ear. He felt her getting nervous, the small hairs on the back of her head standing to attention and goosebumps in her arms. But still she acted like he didn’t cause her incredible fear.

“You might” she whispered

“Believe me, I will not” he answered back 

You didn’t want to have anything to do with the other wives of Negan, really, you didn’t want to talk to anyone, you didn’t want to make friends, you just wanted to stay in your room and most importantly, stay fucking alive and not make it worse for your friends in Alexandria

But…   

When weeks passed and you didn't get your period. You were quickly losing your mind

It was hard to keep track of the calendar in the fucking zombie apocalypse. All the electronics went to shit… but you guessed that outside in some place of the sactuary, someone might have a fucking clue.

Your period was like a swiss watch, you were never late, it was like clockwork, so you had a sense of when it was coming, so now, you left your room looking frantically for a calendar, or something 

The wives seemed surprised to see you, but somehow relieved, since he took you, Negan never left your side, he didn’t spend the night with any of them, you thought they’d be angry, or jealous, but the looks on their faces told you they were grateful, and relieved.

Even though Negan was proud to say he had killed rapists and didn’t tolerate the awful act, he did use coercion to get what he wanted, he used it on you, and probably all of them as well. Yes he did give them a choice but… “Be my wife or I’ll bash yours or your boyfriend's brains” didn’t seem much of a choice to you.

“Hey, we have been wanting to meet you” only two of them approached you, a redhead, and a smaller girl, with dark hair and and bangs, “I’m Frankie, this is Tanya”

“(Y/N)” You answered, “Sorry I was hiding in my room” you explained 

“It’s understandable” she drew an apologetic smile. There was an awkward silence, in which they expected you to say something, and all the way around

“I was wondering…” you started, “if any of you had a calendar, or something… a way to tell what day it is?” you explained. They all looked at eachother. The one you knew her name was Frankie took your hand softly and led you to the wall where there was this old calendar

“It’s the 17th” she said softly. You just nodded, confirming your fears, you were late, two fucking weeks late. You drew a shaky breath, tears burning the back of your eyes.

“Shit” you whispered, debating internally if you should share your fears or not

“What’s going on?” she asked you, “you can tell us”

“Yeah” a blonde one that seemed a little out of it also came close to you, “we are so grateful to you” she whispered with a reassuring smile, “For… distracting him…”

“I’m late” you choked out. You heard them gasp loudly, “I don’t know… I’m two weeks late and I feel like shit, I’m probably…”

“pregnant” murmured the blonde one 

Frankie must have known how you felt. Maybe they all did. She placed her soft hand on your shoulder to comfort you, and it worked. You draw a shaky breath, wiping the tears with the back of your hand

“What is he going to do?” you asked, “Is he going to… push me down the stairs or something?”

“We don’t know” she whispered, “we are the ones that take care of it” she explained, “he had never express his want to… have kids”

“He is the one that makes sure we use contraceptives” the black haired woman said

“I’ll go with you to the doctor” Frankie said, and you just nodded, “It’s the only way to be sure”. grabbing the hand she offered you tightly, and under the sad eyes of all of Negan’s wives, you left the room.

“I’m terrified” you murmured, when you came face to face with a man you knew they called Fat Joey

“Hey joey” greeted Frankie, and he eyes you both suspiciously

“Negan wouldn’t want you to walk alone” he said, “specially if you are terrified” you wanted to swallow your own words

“We are fine, Fat Joey” Frankie muttered

“Let me escort you” you squeezed her hand, but he walked behind you silently in your journey to the doctor’s office 

You managed to shake him off of you in the consult, you closed the door on his face.

“Good morning ladies, what can I do for you?”, this doctor gave you the creeps, but he was the only one around so…

Frankie gave you a reassuring smile, nodding, so you turned to the doctor

“I think I’m late”, you whispered, he looked at you and nodded

“Very well, I have a pregnancy test you could take”

It was the most uncomfortable 5 minutes of your entire life, and you were living in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, go figure

It took less than 10 minutes for the two lines to appear, and you truly felt like you were going to lose it. Frankie didn’t say anything, neither did you, but she hugged you tightly and you hugged her back

“Everything is going to be alright, it’s still early”, she whispered sweetly in your ear, caressing your hair, you only nodded, it was true, it was only a couple of weeks… Frankie looked at the doctor

“Is there anything you could give her?”, she asked. The doctor looked at you and then at her. 

“No”

“That’s a lie”, she accused

“Yes”, he said simply

“You have to do something!” you demanded, “Give me something…”

“I’m sorry, I can’t do anything without Negan’s permission” 

“WHAT?” you argued, “It’s my body…”

“It’s Negan’s baby” he said seriously, “I can’t do anything or give you anything without him knowing” He perfectly could, but he had clear instructions from Negan, and he valued his own life more than yours. 

. . .

Negan knew something was wrong when he passed the lounge where his wives were and they all looked at him in terror.

Did someone die?

Did someone escape? or tried to?

He hadn't punished someone publicly this week, so he knew this wasn’t that. And if someone actually had died, betrayed him or escaped, he would have known by now, so, what was it? He looked directly at Frankie, she averted her gaze, but her eyes looked at the wall to the right. He just nodded, silently, and kept walking until he found himself at your door. He knocked twice, but you didn’t answer, so he just went in.

He found you with your back turned to the door, in a fetal position on the bed 

“Hey sunshine” he greeted carefully, and he saw you flinch. You turned, slowly, and he was surprised to see you crying. Did you find out about all the things he had done in Alexandria? No, impossible, “What is going on?” he asked, you were there, in front of him, so you didn’t tried to scape, and you didn’t kill anyone so he wondered what got you so fucking scared of him right now

“I’m sorry” you whispered, “Negan” you called, “I love you” oh how much he could have given to hear you say those words, but the way you say them, it was desperate, you sounded like Amber, you didn’t mean it, in fact, you wanted to calm him down

“What is going on?” he repeated the question, harder this time, making you flinch raising your shoulders and trying to hide between them 

“I’m pregnant” you whispered, you dropped the revelation and then you wanted to bend over your own body to protect yourself from him, and that is what kind of broke him. “I’m sorry”

Of all the reactions he may had that you played in your mind, him chuckling and smiling widely wasn’t one of them 

“You are not mad?” you asked back, and he shook his head

One of the most scary things about Negan is that he was totally unpredictable, you could never guess what’s coming 

In one scenario he grabbed you by the arm and threw you down the stairs, and then made sure to beat you up until there was nothing left inside of you. In another he’d let the doctor get his hands on you, but you never, ever, thought he’d be happy about it

“Aw honey, this is wonderful news!” you jumped when he yelled that, opening his arms in celebration, he never stopped looking at you, “An heir!” he continued, “A little savior, a little Negan or Lucille” you shook in your place when he called his deceased wife’s name

And suddenly, you were more scared.

“A little Lucille?” you muttered, he had told you everything about his late wife, and the thought he might be using you to relive some weird fantasy chilled your bones. Suddenly you felt your eyes wet with tears, and not being able to stop them, fat, bitter tears started running down your cheeks, “No…” you whined. His face dropped when he saw how you started to lose it, you started to hyperventilate 

“Hey, sweetheart, I need you to relax”

“You have to talk to the doctor, so he’ll give me something…” you tried to explain

“Why would I do that, baby?” he asked

“I can’t have your baby” you whined, wiping your tears

“Why the hell not?” he asked, this time his face became so serious so fast you shook in fear

“Negan…” you called, expecting him to understand, “please” he softened his gaze on you, with his gloved hand he caressed your cheek as he smiled sweetly at you, but that didn’t calm you, he was unpredictable and you’ll do well in remembering that. He leaned in and kissed you softly, gently, as he was scared of breaking you

“You are going to be an amazing mother sweety” he whispered against your lips and you only whined, “anything you want, everything is yours!” he announced, standing up, “I’ll tell all of them, to bring you anything you could need” 

“You are going to let me carry this baby?” you asked

“Of course”, he said simply

“Please Negan”, you whispered, “I can’t bring a child into this world”

“It will have hundreds of people that will take care of him”, he said, “we are in the sanctuary baby”

“Negan please”, you begged, he just say on the edge of the bed, cradling your face with his big hands

“This a good thing baby”, he whispered, leaning in and catching your lips with his

“Negan”, you whined against his lips

“You are going to be such a good mommy”, he purred, abandoning your lips and going down your throat with heated open kisses

And you snapped out of your hornyness, you grabbed his face and pushed him off of you

“Darling..!”

“Fuck off Negan!”, you grunted, but your heated face told him your resolution wouldn’t last long, you were as horny as he was. He smiled wickedly

He knew he had chosen well, you were going to protect that baby with your life, your lioness instincts already kicking in 

“C’mon mommy”, he purred, “come to daddy”

“I hate you”, you said, with no conviction in your voice

“No you don’t”

And perhaps that is what was so messed up about all of this

You were scared to death, yes, but you were also… excited

And Negan could see that

He approached you again and held you in his arms, he leaned in and again he kissed you. It was soft at first but then it turned heated, you grabbed him roughly, pulling on the hairs on the back of his neck making him grunt needily

“You like it rough, don’t you?”, he mocked, you didn’t want to talk, you just took his leather jacket and threw it on the floor caresly

Another day he would have make a big fuss about it, but today he knew better

“he leaned over you, wanting to pin you down to the bed, but you didn’t let him, instead you managed to pin him down, straddling him 

“Oh baby”, he purred, “or should I say… mommy?”

“Shut up”, you growled, leaning in and kissing him roughly. he immediately responded with teeth and licks of his own, but as you separated from him, you bit his lower lip until blood came up 

He whined under you, not pained but horny and almost pathetic, you grind your hips against his own, feeling his cock hardening between you, giving you goosebumps

“Hormones?”, he teased, but you shushed him up, you wanted him, you needed to feel him, you needed to distract yourself from everything that has happening

You almost ripped his pants off of him, making him chuckle, setting himself comfortably on the bed, you stood up to toss your own pants away from you, and then you crawled back over him. HIs greedy hands tossed your upper clothes, and finally he had you naked all to himself. You leaned in and kissed him roughly

“Yes mommy”, he teased, and you couldn’t help but slap him, not hard, and he only smiled wickedly, “I loved this side of you baby”, he purred, placing his hands on your hips

“You are so fucking mean Negan”, you accused, “you misogynistic prick!”, but you couldn't stay angry at him, you leaned in and kissed him before he could make some snarky remark. He responded at the kiss immediately, his greedy hands caressing you all over he could, your thighs, your sides, your hips. You rubbed your pussy against his hard cock, and you couldn’t help it anymore, you needed him.

You used your hand to pumped his thick cock a few times, before impaling yourself with it

“Fuck!”, you cursed at the same time, perhaps Negan was so attracted to you because you both sounded alike sometimes

You started riding him angrily, almost like you wanted to hurt him, but that turned him on even more. You started moving your hips back and forth. and the friction in your clit almost made you loss it

“FUCK THAT’S IT BABY”, he whined, and you gasped, feeling your orgasm build incredibly quickly

“I hate you”, you cried when you cummed

“I know”, he whispered, entertained, letting you fuck him for once, admiring the goddess riding him.

But you rode him until you cummed again, finally making him finish inside of you.

You let yourself fall on top of him, as you both recuperated, he just held you, caressing your naked back

“I mean it”, he gasped

“What?”, you asked back

“I will do anything to protect you”, he promised, “I leave Rick alone, I promise, you will be a great mother, I really believe that”, you smiled, not letting him see it, of course.

. . .

“Arat” the girl was on his side on a second, that determined look in her eyes that Negan liked so much, “If something happens to me… “ he started, and she frowned, like he just spoke treason, “If this world is fucked up and for reason I fucking die and Rick the prick is still alive I want you to do something for me, ok?”

“You want me to kill him Sir?” she asked, and he chuckled

“No, I want you to take (Y/N) to him” he whispered, “without me controlling everything she is in danger, I want you to make sure she comes back to her people”

Damn, being a father does change you and your priorities 

He thought with a smirk on his face and a swing of his bat

TAGLIST @neganswoman @nijiru @imvomitting @aleemendoza2425-blog @0vecam @heavenhatesme

[genericpuff]

the last few episodes of persephone moping around have felt like less of a self-reflective moment for her to grow and change and more rachel griping about criticism and surrounding herself with yes men

this isn't gonna be in any way a formal essay like my usual sort, more of a slam post honestly, so fair warning that i'm gonna be a little salty here

EPISODE 263 SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!

but seriously, it's been a pity party of greek proportions because this constant "woe is me" shit with persephone that's constantly met with "no queeen you're amazing and perfect" has been going on for DAYS (real time and comic time)

literally every episode since the comic returned has had some segment of either persephone or hades (or both) being upsetti spaghetti over their current situation because oh nooo persephone made the deal with erebus and had to sacrifice something. even though they both knew that was gonna happen and yet she did it anyways. so she just continues to lock herself away in her mansion and spout adorkable quips while her husband, mother, and colleagues deal with the mess she caused.

and of course there's the constant inclusion of apollo spitting straight facts about persephone being a terrible queen and person, but of course because it's apollo saying it, it's not meant to be taken as gospel, essentially clapping back at the words of the critics who call out persephone for being a shitty and toxic protagonist by putting those words into the mouth of a literal rapist.

and yeah episode 263 had a lot of the same shit, to the point that you could literally swap out the names of the characters and the words they were speaking and it applies exactly to rachel and the corner she put herself in u.u it's been a thing for a while now that apollo has just felt like a mouthpiece for LO criticism but as mentioned by users within the subreddit during the discussion of this newest episode, it's never felt more apparent than now.

so yeah enjoy this satirical text edit of a sequence from the newest FP episode, which I honestly can't tell is meant to satirize the critical community or Rachel's reactions to the critical community because the weird reality this comic and its community exist in has just become that wack that it's hard to believe it's not directly from The Onion sometimes LMAO

-and as much as i find myself empathizing with the pressure that rachel is surely under right now - no one should have to be subject to the screeching howls of the peanut gallery - i can't help but be reminded of the memes and tweets she's put out that basically outright say "persephone is supposed to be celebrated for being a shitty person, if you can't handle her at her worst you don't deserve her at her best 💅"-

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Rachel Smythe (@usedbandaid)

-and how often she's ruined her own day looking for critical groups or people with the "wrong opinions" that were minding their own business, or how much she's stifled her own community's attempts to discuss the story openly by having her mods ban anyone with even so much as a question regarding persephone's integrity.

so yeah, as much as i can empathize with her from one creator to another that being under this amount of pressure and scrutiny must be immensely frustrating and exhausting, beyond that one similarity i just can't empathize or relate to this mindset of almost learned helplessness that's taken a firm grip over her writing. this is the story she wants to tell and by all means no one is entitled to make her stop, but if she's gonna keep using her greek myth "retelling" comic that's trying to be "feminist" as a mouthpiece for her own griping over criticisms that are largely on-point and justified - to the point of putting the words of her critics into the mouth of her token villain like she's playing some single player barbie doll "act out that fight that sounded cooler in your head" game - then she's gonna keep getting called out, full stop. i figured she didn't have any nose left to rip off in spite of her face but apparently not.

look, i get it, there are some opinions and behaviors within the critical community that even i'm not on board with. there are people who absolutely take shit too far on both sides of the fandom, and i think both sides need to do more to hold themselves accountable for how they interact with each other, the comic, and rachel herself. i make it a point to keep my shit in my own house, i'm not entitled to rachel's attention and frankly it's the last thing i want because i have a lot of fun here and i don't want that to be potentially ruined or dampened! but if you come into my house and complain about the decorating, then i legitimately don't know what to tell you. i used to love LO and i'm so sad for my past self knowing fully well they're not gonna be able to wholeheartedly enjoy this comic forever due to how manipulative and shitty the storytelling has become. a story that i once connected to as an AFAB who was a victim of assault and abuse and generational trauma.

if persephone being the true main villain in her own story was ever meant to be the point of Lore Olympus, then it's taken way, way too long to get to that point, and rachel herself definitely doesn't seem to be of the mindset that that's what she's become with all of her blasé meme'ing on a plot arc that she's still expecting us to take seriously. persephone was never a very complex character to begin with - being an easy self-insert for the audience and rachel to project themselves onto and relate to - but at least in the beginning she felt like she had so much legitimate potential, she was naive but put her best foot forward and clearly wanted to make a life for herself, made by herself.

now she's just mean. jaded and mean. dependent on the constant validation of others to the point of being manipulative. an absolute shell of a person who can only grow a spine when she's punching down on people weaker than her, completely incapable of standing up to the people who are a legitimate threat to her. it's not empowering, it's not subversive, it's just another pick me story about women pitting themselves against other women and never taking accountability for their own behavior, mistakes, and deliberate actions meant to hurt others, often teetering on the line of straight up narcissism all for the sake of a "boss babe" moment.

anyways, if you want an actual well-written and GOOD scene of an empathetic female protagonist struggling to find their footing in adulthood being called the fuck out for their learned helplessness behavior, go read Tamberlane, it tackles this topic much better through its main character who keeps using her brokenness as an excuse to never do better, it slaps and it's so real.

[hotchswifey]

professor hotchner - aaron hotchner x reader smut

(okay, i wrote this 2 years ago, it's on my ao3 (same username), no judgements pls, i cba to rewrite it better or even reread it- i have spell-checked it!

warnings: smut, oral (f rec and m rec), fingering

word count: 5180)

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

You walked into your criminal psychology class. Alternatively, you walked into the course with the hot professor. 

You had initially taken the class out of pure interest, planning to take one or two classes (to get a gist of what “criminal psychology” was really about) and then swap it out for something more like your major- but then you saw him. Professor Aaron Hotchner. The unreasonably attractive professor- the man you had fantasised about for the last four months

- sat at the back of the lecture hall. Not that you had initially; you had sat near the front. The closer to the attractive professor, the better, right? Wrong. You weren’t being precisely subtle about your attraction (then again, neither was anybody else), but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. At least you had the decorum to move to the back. Every else? Not so much.

You got out your textbook (the heaviest textbook you had) alongside your notepad and a pen as he walked into the room. The way he walked, alongside everything else he did, oozed confidence. He stopped at his desk, set his briefcase down on the desk, took out his laptop and set the suitcase beside the desk.

As he set up the projector, you stared at him. His attire was impeccable. A tailored black suit with a perfectly-tied tie and a Rolex on his right wrist. He looked expensive- he was expensive. You were sure that Rolex cost more money than you had ever owned in your entire life.

He started talking, and you could feel the wet patch growing in your panties. It was bad. he was talking about serial murderers and rapists, yet here you were… there had to be something wrong with you.

You weren’t listening to the lecture. You should have been, really. You didn’t want to fail this class. And you were going to with your most recent grade.

“and that will be all, thank you.”

where had the time gone? the lecture was an hour and a half…

whilst putting your textbook, notepad and pen back into your bookbag. Professor Hotchner called your name, causing your head to fly up.

“May I see you in my office?”

shit.

You must have looked like a deer stuck in headlights, you thought. Other students were snickering as they passed your seat at the back. You were in trouble. That was the only explanation. What had you done? There was nothing besides getting a c- on your latest test.

Was this about the c-?

You nodded your head shyly, your heart already speeding up. Shit. Shit. Shit. What were you going to do? You were going to have to go to his office. Alone. With your hot professor whom you had been harbouring quite the crush on.

It wasn’t just that he was hot (although that did play a significant part); it was also his demeanour. he was… mature. More mature than the boys at the university. He was in control of the room. Whichever room he was in, he was in control. He always stood with such dominance. One look directed towards someone, and they immediately shut up.

But he was also caring. You saw that when his son came to visit sometimes. That was partly why you moved to the back at first. A woman, who you presumed to be his girlfriend or wife (though he wore no ring), came in with a young boy. However, other students were too curious and asked him who she was. His Ex-wife’s sister was a babysitter for him and his son.

He was caring but in control. He was a perfect balance. he was-

Professor Hotchner’s voice was louder this time as he said your name, cutting off your thoughts. You immediately looked at him, your head flying up, grabbing your packed book bag and moving towards his office, directly connected to the lecture hall. You passed him with your head tilted downwards, a blush already spreading across your cheeks and neck even though you couldn’t see him. And because you couldn’t see him, you didn’t see the smirk inhibiting his face.

You stopped just behind the two chairs in front of his desk and heard him close the door. Looking around his office, you noticed it probably looked like every other professor’s office- but it was different. It was his. A few papers stacked up (the one on top marked with a large red “c+”), books on bookshelves with many placed lazily in front of them. A picture of his son and himself on the desk- cute. There was also a navy blue couch between two overflowing bookshelves.

“Please, sit down,” his voice was calm as he walked towards the desk, holding an outstretched hand as a gesture. You did as he asked, removing the bookbag from your shoulder and onto the floor next to the chair where you sat. He had removed his suit jacket, hanging it on the back of the door, causing a deeper blush to cover your face- damn, he looks good- and sat down in his brown leather office chair.

“do you know why you’re here?” yes. Wait, no. It couldn’t have been the c-. he was a harsh marker, and more or less everybody else had failed. In fact, you had gotten one of the highest marks in the class, if not the highest. It didn’t make sense. Professor Hotchner sighed. Is he disappointed?

“you seem to be… distracted in my class,” he started, your eyes moving quickly from the frame to him before moving away even faster; his brown eyes were full of concern, his fingers laced together as he leaned his elbows against the cherry wood desk. “I know you are capable of higher grades. I wondered if something was bothering you.” you looked back at him. His eyes were soft- he was actually concerned. And he believed you could get a higher grade. he actually thought you could-

you cleared your throat, unwilling to let his words, words he had just thrown casually into conversation, consume your thoughts. “nothing, it’s- um, nothing,” you looked away from his brown eyes before you drowned in them. It was stupid, really. You couldn’t even look your professor in the eye. Your professor.

“If there is anything, my office is always open until 7 pm,” he smiled at you. Tall, brooding Professor Hotchner smiled at you. You felt compelled to tell him. Tell him that he has been distracting you. Tell him you hadn’t been listening to a word he had been saying and that c- was pure luck. Tell him that he was the one you fantasised about at night. Every night for the last four months.

“actually-” you cut yourself off before you could continue. Shit.

“actually?” he asked, tilting his head to get you to look him in the eye. God, why did I say anything?!

“um- nothing. Um- the-thank you for, err- for this,” you grabbed your bag, standing up, hoping to whichever deity was out there that you could escape the office without further questioning. No such luck. The gods were not on your side today. Professor Hotchner said your name again, standing up, towering over you with his stature. Gods.

“Is there any way I can make up the grade?” you asked, looking at him properly for the first time since you entered the office. Gods. He was more handsome this close. Alone in his office with him standing before you, concerned about your wellbeing- he had become more attractive to you. Something you had thought was impossible.

Why did I say that?!

“I’m afraid not. If you do better on your next paper, it could bring up your final grade,” he looked sorry. Genuinely sorry. It was nice. It was attractive. He clearly cared for you for his students.

“Are you sure, professor?” gods. Was I actually going to go through with this? You batted your eyelashes up at him, looking at him as innocently as possible. He sucked in a sharp breath. Bingo.

“I’m sorry, but-”

“Professor,” you cut him off, “I’m sure there’s something I can do,” you smiled at him, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. he looked at you, his brows furrowed and mouth set in a straight line like he was debating whether or not to take you up on what you were implying,

suddenly, he walked- or instead marched- towards the office door, locking it and closing the blinds on the window next to the door. He didn’t turn back around, instead of leaning his hand against the lock whilst the other twitched at his side.

“Need I remind you that what your proposing is against university policy? I could lose my job-”

“And I could lose my scholarship,” you said quickly. You knew the risks. You knew all about it. The moment you returned to your dorm after his class, you and your friends immediately looked up the dating policy at the university. They had giggled at you for acting like some kind of schoolgirl with a crush- it had been a fun night.

He turned back around at that, his fingers still twitching. He was debating it. Seriously debating it. You stared at each other for about a minute and had never felt your heartbeat so fast. This could be it. This could be the moment you get to sleep with your hot professor- a man you definitely knew wasn’t going to be like the college boys you had had thus far- or this could be the moment when he kicked you out of his class for inappropriate behaviour, or worse, the university.

He walked towards you, stopping in front of you, looking down at you with parted lips.

“This isn’t a good idea,” he whispered, moving his large hands to cup your cheeks, rubbing his thumb against your left cheekbone, as his eyes darted over your face- your lips, jawline, and eyes.

“I know,” you whispered back, your hands moving around his neck. You leaned up to kiss him. His kiss was- well, it was Professor Aaron Hotchner. It was gentle and sweet, but you could tell he was in control. It was subtle.

It wasn’t like he was shoving his tongue down your throat, something those college boys thought was a great display of dominance- it was subtle. He gently nipped at your lower lip, causing you to giggle and him, in response, to smile against your lips. One of his hands wound around the back of your head, pressing your lips more firmly against his.

He slowly walked you backwards until the back of your shins hit the couch, gently lowering you onto it. He was positioned between your legs, supporting himself with one hand against the cushioned crest rail. He pulled away from your lips and looked down at you as you panted.

“hi…” you whispered, out of breath. His lips quirked up, his hand adjusting to support himself better.

“hello…” his voice, deeper than usual, trailed off as he dipped his head back down to your lips, kissing them shortly before moving down to your jawline; his other hand pulled your shirt over your head. You threw it beside the couch or roughly beside the sofa. Your fingers scratched the back of his head, your other hand moving lazily up and down his waist.

His mouth was hot against your flushed flesh. He started to pepper kisses along your neck, sliding onto his knees whilst still kissing your neck.

His surprisingly smooth hands ran up, and down your jean-clad shins- gods, you regretted not wearing a skirt today. His hands gradually made their way higher until they met your lower thighs. You moved your hands to run through his soft dark hair.

One of his hands dug into the couch to cup your ass as his other hand unbuttoned your high-waisted trousers. Moaning as he squeezed your ass, you removed your shirt, pulling it above your head before throwing it beside the comfortable couch. Having left his hair, your hands went to help professor hotchner unbutton your jeans. How many buttons do these jeans bloody need?!

When you both unbuttoned them, his hand under your ass pushed you up slightly, allowing him to pull them down his legs. Your movements were impatient as you helped him remove them. God, you wanted him.

He pulled them clean off your legs just after you slipped off your flats, throwing your jeans and shoes roughly to where you had thrown your shirt, leaving you in just your panties and bra. Which were not matching. Damn.

Not that he cared anyway. You- his attractive and cute student- was naked on his couch; he couldn’t care less.

His hands continued their previous ministrations, rubbing up and down your thighs, occasionally squeezing your upper inner thigh. His lips soon joined them- as did your moans. His mouth made its way up from your thighs, alternating between them until he met your panties.

He knew this was wrong. he knew it was wrong since the moment he invited you into his office. he knew he was setting himself up for failure.

But he couldn’t care less.

Plus, he was enjoying seeing the wet patch in your panties.

He pressed a kiss against your clit, causing a soft moan to leave your lips as you lift your hips slightly, encouraging him.

“pretty girl…” professor hotchner’s voice was more husky than usual. More attractive than usual. How that was possible, you hadn’t a clue. You whimpered at his words, revelling in the praise.

He moved your pretty panties to the side with two thick fingers; he paused for a second, taking you in. he was right- you were pretty. You lifted your head, looking at him and staring at you. No other sight had ever been so heavenly. You dropped your head back as you tightened around nothing and groaned. 

He pressed another kiss to your clit- your bare clit this time, causing your hips to buck involuntarily, not expecting the sudden touch.

“sensitive, are we?” his words were sensual, causing you to get wetter than you already were. You let out a quick, ‘mm, hmm’ in a whimper, lifting your hips to entice him to touch you more.

You reached behind yourself, slightly arching your back, to remove your bra as he licked a line from your opening to your clit. You unhooked your bra and let out a loud moan, your back arching even further. One of your hands moved to your professor’s hair, lightly gripping it, causing him to groan. The vibrations from his vocalisation contribute to your growing orgasm.

His tongue circled your clit, his hands spreading your thighs even more. He started to pull your panties off of you, your hips lifting on instinct, and threw them vaguely where the rest of your clothes were. He lifted one of your thighs onto his shoulder to open you up for him even further, and your heel dug into his shoulder blade as his movements became too much pleasure for you.

You looked down at him again. Gods. His hair was tousled from where you had run your fingers through it, his coffee eyes meeting yours, and you felt him smirk against you. You tightened around nothing once again as your head fell back against the navy settee, groaning loudly.

His previous circling had turned to suckling. Your “light gripping” had turned into tight fistfuls of hair. You quickly let go, gripping the seat in fistfuls of blue instead. Your moans, whimpers, and whines echoed off the walls, and his smirk grew, once again, against you.

Just as you started to tighten around nothing again, two of his colossal fingers began to tease your entrance. And your hand flew to his teasing one, gripping his wrist. Your fingers didn’t even encircle his wrist.

Earlier on your thigh, his other hand grazed your body to your breast before kneading it. Your moans grew in volume and frequency as your other hand gripped his other wrist.

His teasing casually moved onto, gently fingering you with his middle finger. His movements were soft, quickly finding your special spot and caressing it. His movements were perfect- he knew what he was doing. God, did he know what he was doing.

He added another finger, curling them into you, pinching your nipple simultaneously, causing your hips to buck again- your mewling becoming louder with your orgasm rapidly approaching. The hand squeezing your breast moved to your lower stomach, holding you down. fuck, he’s strong.

“oh? Right there, hmm?” he was mocking you. By the fucking gods, it was attractive. He had pulled away from your clit slightly, his words causing his lips to graze against your nerve endings.

“Oh, god. Please, professor,” you were past the point of caring about anything other than your professor, his tongue and his fingers.

Professor Hotchner added another finger, stretching your tight little hole for him, causing your grip on his wrists to tighten. He smiled against your clit, still sucking on it when he noticed your reaction. His fingers continued prodding against your spongy flesh, and he had begun quietly humming around your clit, causing vibrations to spread through your core.

“I’m gonna-” You cut yourself off with a gasp, hands leaving his wrists to grip at the cushion, then moving back to his wrists as you flailed to grab onto something to ground yourself, his actions too much to handle.

Combining your impending orgasm with his humming, suckling, and prodding, you swore you would implode.

“gonna cum?” your professor asked. He was mocking you again. You knew he was because he knew you were about to cum. And you knew that he knew that you knew. Maybe that shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did.

When he spoke, he pulled away slightly to get his words out, causing a high whine to leave your lips as you attempted to lift your hips to meet his mouth again. His hand on your stomach held you down, and he had begun to rub his thumb and forth over your pelvic bone. He chuckled loudly at your neediness.

“you gonna be a good girl for your professor and cum?” fuck. fuck. fuck. His words caused your hips to buck (or at least to attempt to, anyway) and multiple curse words to leave your mouth as you took in all the stimulation he provided. After his words, he immediately started sucking and humming at your clit, once more.

His words tipped you over the edge into your bliss. It was the best orgasm you had ever had in your entire life. Maybe it was because it was Professor Hotchner; perhaps it was because you hadn’t had sex in four months since you first joined his class.

Your fingers gripped the couch to the point where you were sure it was going to leave a permanent mark. And your heel dug into his back harder, your thighs shaking and the one on his shoulder going to close around his head.

He didn’t let up his movements, continuing at the same rhythm- he knew what he was doing.

You didn’t know how long you were seeing stars, but you knew it felt like a good eternity.

When you finally came down, he slowed his movements slightly to bring you down gently.

“Jesus fucking Christ, professor,” you gasped out, your panting- instead of your moans- filling the room, along with his slight laughter. His hand had stopped fingering you instead of rubbing up and down your thighs.

“mmm, that good then?” he mumbled against your skin, kissing your body as he moved up it, his hands rubbing the underside of the thigh still on his shoulder. 

“shut up,” you reply, still out of breath as his lips meet your collarbone. You hadn’t realised until now that not only did he look expensive, but he also smelt it. You presumed it had to be Gucci- it would match his tie. 

You looked down at him, starting to rake your hands through his soft hair, noticing he was beginning to form a hickey on your clavicle. fuck. If this was all you had to remember this by, you sure as hell weren’t complaining.

Looking down at him, you noticed how much he was tenting his slacks. he looked big already. Your hands left his hair to fumble at his slacks- your post-orgasm bliss making your hands shake too much to unbutton them, never mind unzip them. 

Professor Hotchner had made his way to your plump lips, smiling and giggling- you never thought you would hear your professor giggle. He came to your aid, unbuttoning and unzipping them before you pushed them down to his knees and underwear. You didn’t get enough time to look at him.

“shut up,” you mumbled again. Whilst doing this, he hadn’t left your lips not once, moving his lips against yours- they just seemed to fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. Though you could probably bring that up to his skill.

“Now, now,” he started, barely pulling away from you, “I don’t think you want that,” of course, you didn’t want that. Nobody in your position could ever want that. His voice was partly what was getting you off. What you did want to do was… 

You pushed him off you, sitting up and taking him by the hand. You moved you two until he was standing against the couch, and you were where he previously was. His eyes roamed over you, and you blushed heavily, suddenly feeling under scrutiny. Despite your warm flush, you realised the room was colder than ever as you stood without clothes.

“cold?” he asked quietly. He looked like he was ready to go turn on the heating. 

“sit down,” you demanded quickly- you didn’t care that it was cold, and you swore to the gods that if he was going to turn on the heating and stop this, for even thirty seconds, you would cry.

He sat down with his legs slightly spread as you slowly sank to your knees. His hand immediately approaches your cheeks to rub his thumbs back and forth over your cheekbone. You finally looked at him and pushed his black trousers down to his ankles. fuck. You had expected him to be big (look at him), but this was. Wow.

You moved his thighs apart even more with small hands as he wound one hand into your hair and the other to trace your jawline. You looked up at him- he had been reticent. He was smiling down at you. It was strange, actually. Not the whole situation (although that was strange)-the adoration in his eyes was weird. But definitely not in the wrong way.

You brought your view back to his cock, eyeing it. He was huge. And really pretty. Everything about him was pretty. At the base, he had black hair, slightly curly but definitely groomed. His head was angry-looking and leaking- Jesus fucking Christ, was he really this turned on just by eating you out?

You touched your lips to kiss the tip, causing Professor Hotchner to bring his hands to your hair while groaning. You decided you wanted to hear more of that, taking the entire tip into your mouth, lightly sucking. 

His grip on your hair got tighter as his moans got louder, his hips starting to buck much like yours- you would have tried to hold them down like he had done to you, but you knew your efforts would be futile, him being much bigger than you. he tasted salty- good, but salty- as you lapped up the precum. 

His grip on your hair pushed you down to take more of him. You followed his silent command, hollowing your cheeks to make sure you didn’t accidentally scrape your teeth against him- he had just made gave you the best orgasm of your life, and you certainly didn’t want to provide him with the worst blow job of his life after that.

You took as much as you comfortably could, your other hands moving up and down the rest of his shaft; your mouth didn’t cover- the other one starting to play with his balls. Strings of curse words and pet names were leaving his lips as he began to put your hair in a makeshift ponytail.

“shit, sweetheart-” he bucked his hips harshly, forcing you to take more of him and gag. You relaxed your throat, knowing it was a mistake on his part, pulling away to just take the tip in your mouth as you caught your breath. You hummed around him, trying to communicate that you were fine; that caused his hips to jump, too.

His grip on your hair pulled you off of him, causing you to look up at him, face covered in precum and drool. You heard him swear quietly.

“c’mere,” he mumbled, letting your hair fall from his hands, helping you stand and straddle his lap, his hands immediately resting on your hips. Instantly, he was on your lips, kissing you roughly, impatiently- you had never seen professor hotchner impatient. He was patient with his students, no matter how blatantly stupid they were being (to spend more time with him, you presumed- there’s no way someone can be that stupid).

Now? he was gripping you like you were to float away like a helium balloon, and you certainly felt like you were going to. Your hands moved over to his shoulders to give you something to balance on as you ground your bare pussy onto his cock.

He stood up, causing you to squeak, quickly wrapping your legs around his waist. His hands were holding you up by your ass as he walked you over to his suit jacket he had previously hung up on the back of the door. He put your back to the curtain in front of the side window, holding you up with one hand as the other went into the inner suit jacket, searching.

He pulled out a condom, “wow. really, professor?” you looked at him in disbelief. He let out a laugh.

“I do have a life, I know,” he deadpanned but still smiled at you.

“I don’t believe that,” you said, your smile growing.

“oh? why’s that?”

“your office is always open until 7,” you mumbled, kissing him roughly, grabbing the condom from him and opening it. You rubbed your thumb over his head, causing a groan to leave his lips, before rolling the condom onto his thick shaft. 

Your movements were quick as he entered you- you were both just as needy as each other (although you assumed he was more so- considering he hadn’t even cum yet). He lined himself up to you, slowly pushing it in. You had thought taking him in your mouth was difficult, but now? Your head fell back against the wall with a thud, but you ignored it instead of gripping onto his shoulders in a vain attempt to ground yourself.

His head fell into the crook of your neck, and his hand returned to your ass after he lined himself up. His grip on you was becoming tighter the deeper inside you he went. 

When he bottomed out, you both let out a simultaneous groan, staying still for a few seconds to take in the situation- your professor was balls-deep inside you. he was balls-deep inside his student. 

Despite the moral dilemma he was currently facing, there was no way in all hell that he would pull out now. He started rocking his hips gently, letting out quiet moans into your neck as your hand scraped through his hair and your mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape.

“Professor,” you moaned out. The title seemed to trigger something inside Professor Hotchner, and he sped up until his pace was fast, rough, and brutal. He didn’t let up, even as you clawed at his shoulders, digging your nails into the ironed dress shirt. 

You were sure, had you been against the door, that it would’ve broken off the hinges. And you were convinced that if anybody was inside his lecture hall, they would know what you two were doing- how could they not? It wasn’t like you two were being quiet.

He continued kissing up and down your throat, holding you up with one hand under your ass (which he occasionally squeezed, causing you to jolt against him), and whispering dirty words into your skin.

“sweet girl… you’re so pretty for me,” he said, against your collarbone, his pace relentless, “letting your professor fuck you like a dirty little whore,” your toes curled at his words, your second orgasm hitting you like a moving train.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your grip on him tightened, grinding yourself onto him; your other hand moved down to rub quick, harsh circles on your clit. Back arched against the wall, you accidentally shoved your tits into Professor Hotchner’s face- something he was taking advantage of. Your vision blurred, tears forming in your eyes as you squeezed them shut, your moans growing louder as the seconds passed.

“Oh, god, professor! Please, please, please,” you weren’t quite sure what you were begging for, your words falling easily from your lips without meaning. Your voice felt foreign to your own ears as they rang.

Professor Hotchner continued his rough strokes through your orgasm, not stopping or fumbling once. His grip on you tightened as he came inside you, your cunt squeezing him dry as you pressed his body against yours, almost slumping against you.

You both stayed there for a while longer, panting and trying to catch your breath. His hands continued to smooth over your exposed flesh, his head buried in the crook of your neck. as your scratched lazily up and down his hair, your head against the wall.

He pulled out of you soft and let you down, gently, careful not to hurt you. he was quick to pull up and zip up his slacks again as you went in search of your clothes. The silence was killing you- the post-orgasm clarity hitting you both with what you had just done. Not that you regretted it. But you knew it was- well, wrong. It was against many rules and policies, but you certainly didn’t regret it.

And neither did he.

You got dressed quickly, putting on your trousers and shirt, slipping back on your dolly shoes and grabbing your bookbag, professor hotchner watching you the entire time. You smiled up at him, trying not to be quite awkward about this- you wanted it to happen again and acting awkward was not the way to go around that.

“See you on Thursday, professor,” you smiled at him again, walking out of the office and through the lecture hall, your smile growing into a smirk. 

Aaron shook his head after you left, scoffing then smiling- you were really something else, huh?

[theredofoctober]

MANNA— CHAPTER FOUR: TOAST

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, mild Daddy kink (it'll all make sense). Cannot stress the ED/anorexia warnings more strongly for this chapter guys!

This is chronologically the fourth chapter in the series

--

You sit with your back to Dr Lecter as he readies himself to leave for his morning appointments, feeling like an ancient sacrifice to some forest beast, blindfolded and anointed, its snail-fed bride; the dread of unseeing, of not knowing what he does as you stare at the wall is so clever a punishment that you comprehend entirely why more brutal forms were inflicted before it.

He is ingenious in his malice, this man. The fear of the worst of things is the stick that will make you the supplicant to his merest whim.

In cyclical paths you think of Hannibal’s attack at the breakfast table, how he had intuited your intent to cut his throat before you had finalised the thought. The gymnast's grace with which he’d caught you, the psychic recognition of revolt— he has held others captive, before you, surely.

Likely he has killed.

There are many like Dr Lecter, in the medical field, rapists and murderers in their masses, scything the weak, and allowing their names to fall through the cracks in the system, where few care to retrieve them. Already you feel yourself staggering into that hopeless black, soundless as your gaoler guides you back into the en suite by a hand at your nape.

“You may take a bath, if you wish,” he says— how had he known you’d only stood at the sink that morning? “I have provided toiletries for you. No razors, I’m afraid. If you desire to shave, then Will or I must be present, which I doubt you would prefer, at this time. Besides, I have to leave for my first appointment in a few minutes. I trust that you will enjoy the solitude.”

You keep your back to him, half-swooning under your dread of those pitiless eyes.

“I hope that you will not do anything unwise, while I’m away,” says Hannibal, into the frigidity of your silence. “There is no mention of active suicidal ideation in your records. I would be surprised if you drowned yourself; of all the poetic figures you resemble, Ophelia, in her madness, is not of their number.”

“Why?” you whisper. “After what’s happened, I should want to die.”

Hannibal’s arm glides past you, twisting the faucets of the bath until water beats a war drum rhythm against the porcelain.

“But you do not,” he says, his voice so close to your ear that you jump. “Death, to you, would be an unfortunate symptom of the habits you keep. You are ambivalent about life, at the best of times, yet your goal is not to leave it. Your inherent belief is that you can maintain starvation at such a balance that you defy both those who have hurt you and God Himself.”

You watch hot water spin the air into steam, and a tear condenses on your left cheek, quite as warm.

“Does God even exist?” you ask. “If He did, He’d get me out of this.”

Dr Lecter unscrews the top of an expensive soap bottle and pours it into the bath, smoking the room with the scent of dusky vanilla; of course, his perfume for you would be gourmand.

“God kills and aids with equal relish. Who is to say that it is not your suffering that he would prefer?”

“That’s what you want?” you ask, in a whisper like a fragment of snow. “For me to suffer?”

“No, little one,” says Hannibal, touching your quivering lower lip with a gentle thumb. “If that was so, I would have left you to die in your parents care. What I want is for you to eat, and gain trust in those that yearn to help you.”

He straightens, smoothing down an imaginary crease in his suit.

“I have prepared lunch for you to eat while I am at work. I expect to see that you have eaten it.”

Your stomach, hard with breakfast, is nevertheless hollow enough to moan.

“All of it?” you ask.

“Yes,” says Hannibal, though not unkindly. “It is only a light portion. Will is joining us for dinner tonight.”

You sit down on the edge of the bath, your voice rising to a petulant note, as though Will were an unsavoury family friend, and not a man driven to rape by a whisper in his ear.

“I don’t want to see him.”

“Nevertheless, you will,” says Hannibal. “Like hunger, he is the spectre you must face, regardless of your fear of him.”

Hannibal switches off the taps and smiles down at you, undeterred by your unchanged, fearful disgust.

“Goodbye, little one,” he says. “And be good.”

You don’t reply, refusing to turn as he pats your shoulder and quietly retreats from the room. His leaving should be a relief, but his presence drenches the house like blood through a shroud. He scarcely seems to leave it at all.

You bathe rapidly, loathing to be at one with your nakedness, seeing it through your captors’ eyes.

Another set of clean clothes has been set out for you, a perfume of further vanilla, a clear bag of cosmetics, a weighty tome by Dostoevsky, and lunch in a pristine Tupperware box, which you avoid as you would a sleeping asp.

The bedroom door is locked, the sole, small window barred— new additions, you note from the shine on the steel. Hannibal has made definite your inability to escape; the only hope left bare to you is to draw attention from passers-by.

Desperate, you write a haphazard ‘HELP ME’ message in lipstick upon the window, hoping that the letters are large enough to be glimpsed from below.

That done, you sit in a convent-goer’s silence, cowed by the enormity of danger that has found you. The only thing that protects you from the engulfing depths of your abjection is anger, defiance that Dr Lecter thinks himself dictator of what may enter your body, food or flesh.

With a reedy surge of courage you vow to challenge his every attempt on your autonomy, even if you must do so quietly.

You begin with lunch. With a percussive gusto you throw the Tupperware into bathroom bin, thinking you’ve done well to avoid another round of narcotics, and to deny yourself what you do not think you deserve, after failing to abstain at breakfast.

The pasta smells delicious, of cloves and some ingeniously mixed sauce you know would break across your tongue in a tide of exceptional flavour. You pace from the bedroom to the en suite, close to retrieving the plastic tub from the clean trash bag and eating from it, unashamed of such a low; you’ve done worse, in your time, giving in to an animal urge to forage.

You lean against the wall, breathing in and out with trembling difficulty. Then you prise the Tupperware from the trash can and empty it out into the toilet bowl, flushing again and again until every remnant of food is washed down where even you cannot salvage it.

You are exuberant in your resolve, barely weakened under the burden of your captivity.

You shouldn’t be hungry, so soon after breakfast, yet you are— not in the way other people feel hunger, the ordinary cues having been lost to illness, long ago. Your desire for food is like that of a man-eating animal, driven more by a taste for flesh than necessity to eat.

That Will and Hannibal have given you a secondary conflict to wage war against your obsession is almost a gift— there is no longer much room amidst your crowding fears to pine over the food in your stomach.

Yet, there is enough. Purging has never been your particular habit—you’ve found it too difficult, requiring water you are too afraid to drink more than a glass of for fear of the added weight on the scale.

The French toast lies upon you like a sleep paralysis apparition in its density. Hanging over the toilet bowl, you choke on acid spittle, and promptly abandon the venture. Had there been laxatives, they would have been a fair alternative, but Hannibal has kept you as simply and functionally contained as a vivisectionist’s subject, which, to him, it seems, you are.

You bow to your defeat, on this count, allowing yourself another indulgence of tears. Only the fear of the calories you must burn thrusts you back on your feet, striding laps of the room until your vision swims with sparks.

Light-headed, you sprawl on the bed—the same that you were raped in, you think, and move to lie on the floor instead, comforted by the changed perspective of the room.

As a child you used to lie on your back like this, imagining that you could walk upon the ceiling. You’d lived years in such imagined lands, and would have remained in them, still, had they not grown dark, and overgrown by infiltrating matter. As you stare at the ceiling now it seems to blacken at the edges as though with a quickening mould, or else the fingers of some unseen thing, folding over your eyes until they shut.

*

You start from unsettled sleep to the gentle purr of an expensive car drawing in at the front of the house. Recalling your lip-sticked message, you blunder in a drowsy panic to the window and rub at the glass with your dress sleeve, spitting on the hem when the cosmetic merely smudges obstinately under your ministrations.

You cannot tell if the monster in the sleek Bentley below can see the window clearly, but you work rapidly, your breath sawing a panicked melody through your throat.

Though your dress is black, the cosmetic shows tellingly on the fabric. You wrestle the garment over your head and hide it at the back of a drawer, shoving on an almost identical item as movement stirs in the house below.

You sit down on the bed, picking the skin at your fingers as Hannibal approaches. When his key clicks in the lock you start, tearing a hangnail up to the cuticle. You suck your thumb like a child to soothe the wound, aware how infantile you must look.

“Hello, little one,” says Hannibal, politely, as he enters the room.

“I ate it all,” you say, in an all too eager rush. “The food. You don’t have to punish me.”

Your jailer looks at you levelly. His eyes are crow’s eyes, clever, and gelid.

“Let me see.”

He picks up the Tupperware, examining the box. Abruptly he circles the room, then the en suite, his slow tread an axe-man’s gait.

“You have lied to me,” he says, suddenly. “Lunch was disposed of. The toilet, I presume? Please do not insult me by claiming to have eaten it.”

You stare at him, nonplussed.

“I... how did you know?” you falter.

“I have a keen sense of smell. The scent of herbs is very clear in the air. An unusual aroma, for this particular room.”

There is a humour in his voice, but of a sinister kind you know well to fear.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I couldn’t. I already ate so much, and you said I have to have dinner, so I...”

Hannibal shakes his head gravely.

“You must never waste food, if you can help it, little one.”

On a whim, you reach out to sieze one of his hands in yours.

“I didn’t mean it. Please don’t hurt me, Dr Lecter.”

He shakes his head regretfully.

“That is not for me to decide.”

You squeeze his hand as tightly as you are able, aware of how cold your fingers are in comparison to his hale warmth.

“Please, I’ll stay in solitary, or... or forfeit stuff, like they do at regular hospitals. Just don’t... touch me again. I can’t take it.”

“You discredit your endurance,” says Hannibal, smoothly. “It has presented itself as your greatest strength. It would be startling to see it fragment so early into your induction.”

You snap your hand back from him, cradling it as you would a broken bone.

“What’s wrong with you?” you hiss, and Dr Lecter releases a little grunt of amusement.

“I can only echo the interrogative. You have never opened up to any therapist about the most crucial traumas in your past. I am intrigued by their mysteries.”

You glance away, lips tightened. You will give him nothing of your secrets, not even the sheerest slip. He will use them against you, this you know.

“I must prepare for dinner,” says Hannibal. "Come along, little one. You will assist me. It will do you good to be in the presence of food through its preparation.”

*

As anticipated, your presence in the kitchen is fraught with excruciating temptation. As you grate vegetables and slice meat you often clear your throat to mask the thunder of starvation in your abdomen, which Dr Lecter politely ignores.

Though he maintains a flow of light, one-sided conversation, you know how narrowly he watches you, analysing every twitch and attempt to mentally detach from the scents and sumptuous plenty spread out on the countertops before you.

At last, he relents, an unexpected mercy.

“That’s enough. You may wash your hands and sit at the dinner table.”

You linger, gawking at him, not quite believing in your release.

“Go on,” says Dr Lecter, chuckling slightly. “I will join you presently. Our guest will be arriving, soon.”

Blinking, you say, “I’m... allowed to sit in there alone?”

With an almost fond glance, Dr Lecter says, “Certainly. You will not run, for you know that I will follow.”

Will arrives half an hour later, smelling of night rain and cologne. His expression is sullen and furtive as he greets you, his eyes floorwards, lashes fluttering behind his glasses.

You clutch the sides of your chair, silent, sickened, resentful; the man behaves as if it is he who was injured by the assault, as though the shame gnaws down to the core of him, leaving him raw and naked before you.

He sits in the chair closest to the door, whether to guard the exit or to forge the path to a quick egress you cannot say.

Hannibal sets a glass of wine before him; you he only gives water, as though you are not old enough to drink.

“The first course will be served presently,” he comments, surveying the tension at his table. “I hope that you will both enjoy it. You must be hungry, little one.”

You shake your head, afraid that if you open your mouth to speak you will only scream. This meal isn’t meant to tantalise the senses, but to torture: you know it from the unwilling reunion of his guests, of the punishment that leers from a narrow future upon you.

A quivering shrew, you stare at your untouched glass as Will clears his throat, pressed by the pains of your silence to speak.

He invokes your name, making it as foul as a curse.

“I don’t claim to be a master at first impressions, but the other night...”

“Please don’t talk to me,” you whisper, and Will flinches, pushing his glasses up his nose with bumbling fingers.

You’ve upset him, you realise, with a cold start of revulsion. Him, the violator, bruised by his own brutality, as though he’d no choice in the matter. Had he expected you to be his friend, to care for his sensitivities?

There is something wrong with Will Graham, you think, like a flaw in some creaking ship apt to annihilate the vessel, under pressure. That, or bleed all around him in his shrapnel, while he tends to their many pieces with all the moroseness of Beauty’s beast.

It strikes you that you should make him your ally, this hopeless Caliban, if you can stand it. You will need his favour, against Dr Lecter, to convince him to set you free.

Still, you cannot yet bring yourself to earn it. When Hannibal returns to set the first of many plates upon the table you are wordless in your terror, your fork as slippery as a salmon in your grip.

Will and Hannibal make conversation about a murder case in the area— both seem intricately involved in the psychology of the killer, discussing at length his motives in the poetic lexis you are becoming accustomed to, in this prison.

Still, their eyes and words wind back to you with a potent eventuality, displayed before them in your borrowed dress like a goldfinch chained to an elaborate perch.

Your food remains on your plate, flattened beneath your knife, a childish attempt to conceal your inability to eat it. There is too much weight in these scarce morsels, calories that would swell you into some fantastic horror, or so your thoughts inform you.

If you could eat, you would do so; even to save yourself it is beyond you.

Only water do you swallow, the bottom of the glass thick with a bitter sediment.

“We should talk about her, shouldn’t we?” asks Will, reluctantly, his gaze darting to your plate.

"Indeed we should," says Hannibal, his hand tracing the stem of his wine glass as he would the length of your throat. “Specifically, your response to her residence here, and to her treatment. You feel guilt for having carried out a punishment you feel was not entirely deserved.”

Will swallows, the click of saliva in his throat like the folding of a leaf underfoot.

"That's the problem," he says. "It did feel deserved. Violence for violence. There was a righteousness in defending you. I've felt it before, with GarretJacob Hobbs."

The name holds significance you cannot grasp. Who was this man, and what does he mean to your wardens?

"And like that day, protecting Abigail," Will continues, "I'm left looking at my own hands, repulsed by my own readiness to engage in a taboo and... enjoy it. But she isn’t like either Hobbs."

This, directed at you with a glance of murky guilt.

"She's unwell. Confused. And, as far as your patient was concerned, she was as in her right to protect herself as I was in correcting her."

"Stop,” you say, quietly.

Both men turn to you, startled by your sudden interjection.

"You disagree with Will's analysis of last night's events?" asks Hannibal, with interest. "By all means, tell us what you see. There is no sole analysis of any art; what picture do you glimpse from within the canvas?"

"I'm not yours," you say. "You can't correct me, like I'm something you own, that you made."

Dr Lecter examines your face with a dangerous patience.

"But we are making you. Or remaking, it you prefer. That is why you are here: a construction of what we two will define from mortar and broken glass."

You cannot respond to such unhinged logic without lowering yourself to entertain it, an undeniably clever tactic.

Hannibal brings another course to the table, another, another; Roman emperors could not have gorged like this, yet the two men—both lean, and Will particularly small—clear their plates as though swallowing mere air.

You pretend to eat, chewing food and spitting it into napkins or an empty glass when the other diners look away. It is only when Will barks at you suddenly that you realise he's been watching you, all along.

"What are you doing?" he asks, sharply.

"Nothing,” you mumble.

Will scoffs.

"Nothing? Nothing is not why you're here. You’re starving yourself. Why?"

Disgust pours from him like a vapour, tainting the air you breathe with his unearned judgement.

"Because... it's just what I do,” you say, limply. “It... helps. It's taken over everything.'

“Then stop letting it,” snaps Will; you don’t understand why he’s so affronted, why he has suddenly taken up the reigns of the game. “You're giving into this, letting it cut holes into you. You'll die trying to achieve some abstract state of being that you will never reach. Do you want that?"

Strange, the echo of your conversation with Dr Lecter by the bath.

"I— don't know,” you say, after a strained pause. “Sometimes I'm not sure if I care what happens to me. And sometimes, I get scared."

Will speaks through gritted teeth.

"So let go of it."

You could laugh at so preposterous a command, but instead you say, "I can't."

The atmosphere at the table has subtly changed, all players on the board at last.

"Why not?” asks Will, softly.

You perceive something like care in his voice, an impossibility.

"Because it makes me feel better," you say. "Stronger. I don't want it to go away."

Hannibal sits back, listening in purposeful silence.

Will removes his glasses, placing them into his pocket.

"Today, at this meal, you’ll try,” he says. “Appreciate the effort that was made for you."

At this you do laugh, a soft, broken sound.

"Go to hell. You're a monster. You did what he told you to, and— and you jumped like a dog to do it. Aren't you ashamed?"

Dr Lecter’s posture tightens slightly, and Will flounders, losing a little of his confidence.

"I know it's probably not what I should have done,” he admits. “It’s a radical treatment. And dangerous. But I— we can't take it back. And if I can contribute to you evolving from this then I'll do whatever it takes."

There is honesty in this confession, somewhere, even empathy.

"Don't act like you care about me,” you mumble, and shove your plate away from you, across the table, knocking over your glass in the process.

The effects of whatever drug was in the water are taking hold, making you feel loosely unstable, your inhibitions cast down, and forgotten.

Hannibal’s smile has fallen.

"Will,” he says, curtly. “I think you have tolerated quite enough from our obnoxious guest. I suggest that you consider discipline. She has already broken the rules in place for her today. A meal discarded, a message for help written on her window— It is fortunate that no one came close enough to the house in my absence to see it."

You stand up from your seat, swaying slightly, your heart shuttering like cards on a bicycle wheel to find yourself caught you in your efforts to escape.

"I hate you,” you say. “I want to leave. Let me go."

"Hannibal,” Will cuts in; his face is white, and greasy with anxiety. “I'm not ready to handle this again."

Dr Lecter’s expression shifts darkly.

"Then I will fulfil that responsibility on your behalf."

He rises from his seat and is behind you for the second time this day before you've the sense to run. Shunting you forward onto the table top, he tears your dress methodically up your back, his free hand holding you down with the same carelessness with which he’d handle unsatisfactory meat.

"You are sure that you do not wish to participate?" he says, over your shrieks of protest.

Will shakes his head. His eyes are rolling like a bull’s in his distress.

"No. I— can't."

Hannibal stills; you feel his hand between his belt and your behind, on the precipice of setting loose his sick lust.

"Then should I choose another punishment? There are many at our disposal."

"Don't leave it up to me to decide,” croaks Will. “I feel... precarious."

"I forgive you your uncertainty,” says Dr Lecter. “I, however, have none."

A drugged swell flows through you, looping a weird ecstasy about your abdomen as Hannibal leans down to speak to you directly.

"You are a very disobedient girl. You know the consequences, and yet you do not abandon your misdeeds."

"I'm not playing your stupid game,” you whine, dimly away of how foolish you sound. “I'm not playing.”

“Of course you are,” says Hannibal, coldly. “In time you'll forget that it was ever a game, to begin with.”

He forces himself within your cunt in a smooth and gliding viciousness, sending another brocade of sensation through your loins. The drug you’ve ingested makes the pain a most succulent wonder, playing your nerves with all the sinister beauty of the Theremin.

You sob as he fucks you, slow, and sure, and deep. It should not possibly be pleasurable, is intended only to exert power, and to humiliate— but he cannot help but create art, casting you on the stage of his design.

As Hannibal hurts you, he is looking at Will, whose face bears a quickening darkness. It strikes you quite suddenly that Dr Lecter wants the other man’s approval, perhaps even his jealousy; you understand that you are a disposable object that holds the temporary interest of these two.

It may not last.

Should they tire of you, what then? Thrown back to your parents, perhaps, more broken than you arrived. Surely not, for you may spill their secrets to the world, and ruin their lives.

Something worse, then.

You circle back to that earlier thought, and terror flies back in all its night glory.

Suddenly you twitch and shake in horrified spasms, and though Hannibal continues to fuck you something alters almost imperceptibly in his pace.

"Stop," says Will, suddenly. "That's enough."

"You cannot leave a deer half-killed, Will,” says Hannibal; glancing back over your shoulder, you are horrified by how calm he appears, even now. “Maimed, it will stumble, weakened, until another predator picks it from the herd. I must hunt her to the end, Will. It is all that can be done."

You see your tears soddening the tablecloth, mucus pooling beneath your cheek.

"Don't kill me," you whimper. "I don't want to die."

Hannibal stills a moment, pulling your head back to look into your eyes.

“We do not intend to kill you, little one," he says. "Only for you to accept what you are. You will humour what we ask of you?"

"Yes!” you cry, with a delirious bray in your voice. “I— I’ll try!"

Blue eyes, black eyes, both pairs so equally bright.

"Good girl,” says Hannibal, and resumes his use of your flesh, his cock making a gauntlet of you, every thrust grinding you against the elaborate tablecloth with such intelligent pressure you groan beneath him, juddering with the effort it takes not to come.

Will's gaze has changed, and there is colour in his cheeks. He grips the edge of the table as though to prevent himself from falling, or else rising to join his companion in your debasement.

"Please stop," you stutter out, wanting to bite your own tongue off for the embarrassment of the utterance. “I won’t be bad anymore.”

Hannibal slows deliberately, his cock withdrawing to the point it almost slips from your cunt before he sinks it in the lake of your arousal again.

"Come, then," he says, simply. "And you may go to bed."

In a wailing convulsion you climax at once, scrabbling at the floor on steepled toes as the pleasure rolls from your cunt through your thighs. Hannibal waits for your last twitch to cease before he finishes within you, utterly soundless as he leans down, kissing the back of your neck in a gesture that is curiously gentle.

He steps away from the table and helps you stand, holding you to his chest as you whimper in the after bursts of sensation.

"Are you still troubled, Will?" he asks, over the top of your head.

The other man looks shell-shocked, his pallor an almost grey.

"I'm... undecided."

You pull away from Hannibal, remembering with a flare of insane joy that you are released from the table, that you need not eat, after all.

"Then I am mistaken in perceiving another response in you," says Dr Lecter.

Will looks hurriedly away, and it is only as you push past him to flee for your room that you understand Dr Lecter's meaning. The younger man adjusts himself, flushing, sitting as close to the table as space will allow.

He is hard, having watched his friend fucking you.

Will Graham is not so repentant as he'd taken such pains to seem.

[sammylvsfairys]

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst, co-workers to friends???

warnings: this is literally a self indulgence fanfic i have the same personality as reader, she's kinda dramatic (a lot.), mentions of abuse, rape, murders, and domestic violence, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!, reader is kinda dumb (we love her tho), BASED ON S6 E7, english is not my first language !!

a/n: even though i wanted this to be more romantic, aaron is aaron and slow burn is his second name.

requests are currently open!

when aaron finished his talk with the captain, he reached out in a gesture typical of an old friend who just shared some sincere advice before leaving the room. however, his sense of peace was disrupted when he heard a whistle behind him and found derek, with a playful smirk.

"she's mad," derek said. "very, very mad."

instantly, curiosity pricked aaron, who raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"who's mad?"

rossi, who had overheard the whole conversation, even y/n's anger, sighed in exasperation.

"y/n is furious because you shook hands with captain sanders."

aaron couldn't help but feel how absurd the situation was.

"sorry, y/n is mad? why?"

derek whistled again, with a grin.

"aaron, my man, you're gonna need a massive bouquet of flowers if you want her forgiveness."

y/n was famous for only accepting flowers as apologies, and the bigger the mistake, the bigger the bouquet. it was a thing that came handy and everyone used to remember whenever someone accidentally stained her white shirt with coffee.

the jet trip went on as usual, but aaron couldn't shake off his mistake.

when they returned to the office, y/n started gathering her things before being called into aaron's office.

"miss y/n, if you have any issue with me or my way of working, you should tell me," aaron said even before y/n could sit down.

"i'm not a mom to be educating stupid people," y/n replied furiously.

"excuse me?"

y/n clicked her tongue in frustration.

"respectfully sir, you..." she began. "not only did you give a speech defending a man who raised a rapist and murderer, but you also shook hands with a man who abused his wife! you said it yourself!"

"do you think a father deserves to be punished for his son's mistakes?"

"yes," y/n replied dryly. "he should be in jail alongside his son, not seeking ways to reduce that idiot's sentence," she added angrily as she rose from her seat and stormed out of the room.

rossi entered a few seconds later. "sometimes i'm glad to know she's just a media liaison and she doesn't have permission to carry a gun."

aaron stared at rossi. "what should i do now?"

"well, i know she loves roses," rossi wisely replied.

aaron sighed, mentally counting the bills in his wallet. he would need a big bouquet.

when y/n arrived at her desk, she noticed the bouquet of thornless roses and a note signed with a simple, cursive "a." she couldn't help but smile, knowing deep down that nearby florists didn't sell thornless roses.

[drmaddict]

Take that as a threat

Summary: Reader is insecure about her body. August makes shure she forgets about it.

Word count: 432

Warnings: SoftDom!August Walker, princess, no smut, just foreplay, body insecurites

August had shown patience. Insane patience. He had waited and earned my trust. I felt all the worse when I noticed how my body twitched when he wanted to pull my shirt over my head. He had waited three long months, reading my every wish from my eyes, until now he was kneeling in front of me, setting me down on the edge of the bed and still towering over me as his hands stroked my stomach under my shirt.

"What's wrong?" asked August with warm severity, pausing in his movement.

I looked up at him with my best puppy eyes. "What's supposed to be wrong?"

"You're stiff as a board. You tell me." he returned dryly.

I shook my head.

August put his big hand around my neck and lifted my jaw with his pointer and index fingers. Forced me to look deep into his eyes. "Don't lie to me princess. I can tell."

My skin crawled. "It's nothing. Really."

He tightened his grip. "No lies." he commanded forcefully.

I exhaled a shaky breath. Taken in by his domineering manner.

"If you want to stop, that's fine." He stroked his thumb along my jawbone more gently now. "Because you should know one thing about me princess. I'm an insanely bad person, but I'm not a rapist."

I shook my head. "I don't want to stop... It's just..." i faltered. It was childish.

"Words princess!"

"I'm not a particularly big fan of how I look." I said hesitantly, looking intently at his cheek so I wouldn't have to look him in the eye.

August's eyebrows drew together. "Why?"

"Well you look like Aphrodite chiseled you as a graduation piece and I'm just me," I muttered as I looked over his shoulder.

August emphatically turned my face back toward him. His eyes bored into my soul. "Who made you think that way?"

"Some people.", I tried to laugh with a shrug, but August's grip tightened again. "I need names." he growled, like the animal he always said he was.

It took my breath away for a moment. "What would that change?", I breathed.

August took a controlled breath in and out before literally flinging me all the way onto the bed, trapping me beneath him. "When I'm done with you, you'll never think like that again." He kissed me so hard and deep it made me dizzy. "Take that as a threat." He said, sliding down my body.

And if one thing was clear in this grotesque world, it was that August Walker was making good on every single one of his threats. 

[reashot]

Part 2 or How Bleiss got what's coming to her and Jaune met someone new.

part 1 here:

Jaune: W-what did you do to me Bleiss? *breathing heavily*

Bleiss: Ah it seems the drug finally worked...

Jaune: You drugged me... Why? *gasp*

Bleiss: Oh don't pretend you don't know. It's cute for a while but now it's just exhausting. You know I've been wanting to tap your booty for a while now and you for some reason keep refusing me... So this is more your fault than it is mine.

Jaune: I... *gasp* Know your feeling of me. But I can't return it... To you I'm in love with... *gasp*

Bleiss: Who Ruby. That little jailbait? Ha, ha, ha... Oh Jaune I'm sorry to say but right now I bet she is being pounded by Cardin in the room next door.

Jaune: No... Y-you're lying! *gasp* She, she wouldn't do that!

Bleiss: Oh I'm afraid so.... She said she doesn't like you anymore and prefers Cardin.

Meanwhile.

Ruby: No!!! Don't!!! *moan* Leave me alone!

Cardin: Stand still! You're only making it worse. *grabs Ruby's hand*

Ruby: No!!! Don't touch me!!! *slap Cardin's meaty hands away*

Cardin: Ouch! You bitch! *violently grabs both of Ruby's wrist*

Ruby: *squeak* N-no. What are you doing... Please stop! Cardin please stop this. I won't tell anyone about this so please Cardin, please just let me go...

Cardin: Shhh.... It will be over soon. *starts to lean closer*

Ruby: *starts tearing up* No don't please don't... (Save me Jaune.)

Back to Jaune

Jaune: Bleiss if something happened to Ruby I will! *gasp*

Bleiss: Oh Jaune your threat would be more believable if you weren't pitching a huge tent in your pants. *points to Jaune rather sizable package*

Jaune: W-what's happening to me?

Bleiss: Just think of it like a roofie but you get to be awake and you get to ravish me whether you want to or not. Now let me take off your pants. *zips down*

Jaune: (Is-Is this how I will lose my first time? If I knew I would have done it much sooner. I'm sorry Ruby, I'm sorry.)

Bleiss: Ah yes just like how I like my sausage. Big, meaty, long, red and no doubt filled with that whitey goodness.

Jaune: No help! Help! Rape! I'm about to raped!

Bleiss: Silly Jaune. Didn't you know that it's not considered rape if it's done by a girl he, he.... *got smacked in the head*

Ouch. What the hell!?

You!!! What the Salem are you doing here?

???:

Jaune: Ruby?

Oh thank the brothers you're okay...

Wait you're not Ruby. Who are you?

???: *politely bows back to Jaune while carrying Bleiss on her arm*

Bleiss: Hey let me go, I almost had him. Do you have any idea how hard it is to finally get him... *gets chopped in the back of the neck*

Ughhh.... *faint*

Jaune: Uhh.... Thanks. I guess.

???: *Bows again to Jaune before leaving*

Jaune: Wait you never tell me your name!

*disappears in a burst of blue petals*

Who is she?

*burst into the room*

Cardin: Hey dork I got your girlfriend right here. I think that bitch Bleiss did something to her.

Jaune: Ruby! Oh thank Oum you're all right. *hugs her*

Ruby: *orgasmed on the spot* Jaune please... I, I can't hold it much longer. Please have sex with me Jaune. Or else I'm going to lose my mind...

Cardin: I think it's my cue to leave.

Jaune: W-wait Cardin! I want to say thank you for helping and for not doing anything to Ruby while she is in this state.

Cardin: It's that how little you think of me Arc? I maybe a bully but I'm not a rapist. Anyway you might need this.

*throws a condom to Jaune before leaving*

Jaune: I! Thanks Cardin... (Kinda small for me though)

Ruby: Please Jaune, please my body is on fire. And I don't think I can handle it much longer!

Jaune: Of course Ruby I can't hold it much longer too. I should have done it much sooner with you. And Ruby I want to say, I love you...

Ruby: Oh Jaune. I love you too... 😢

Same time, outside

*dropped Bleiss in the middle of a clearing*

Bleiss: Hey you can't treat me like this I'm delicate!

???:

Bleiss: Ouch! okay, okay I give up, I'll apologize okay. I apologize for almost NTRing Jaune.

???: !!!

Bleiss: And I will apologize to Jaune too.

???: !!?

Bleiss: *sigh* and yes to Ruby too. So please stop hitting me.

???: ...

Bleiss: Oh thank you.

*one last smack in the head*

What the Hell!

[sexhaver]

i wanna prod at ur catholic confession post actually. like yes, murder and child rape is obviously bad and there is an inherent problem with how the catholic church shields abusers. but i think removing some of the restrictions of what a priest can or cannot say about a confession could cause some problems. like, for example, how a lot of priests considerer LGBT people to be child abusers/predatory! hypothetically if the cath church made it so preists could openly condemn confessions guilty of child abuse, and if the church considers identifying as LGBT as child abuse, then that could cause problems if someone confessed to IDing as gay/trans. or alternatively, what if someone confesses to killing a rapist/sexual abuser. a priest could use that confession to testify against them and get them imprisoned. is it ok to imprison people for murdering their abusers? idk, but i dont like the idea of the catholic church having that power having a blanket statement that priests cant mention ANY confessions makes it *slightly* more immune to corruption IMO. obviously i dont think this solution is perfect, but my alternative would be to dissolve the catholic church entirely, and i dont think thats happening anytime soon.

well as you point out there isn't really a good solution to this, and that is because the idea of confession is inherently dumb as fuck. everything the catholic church considers a sin falls into one of three categories:

failing to be pious enough (forgetting to pray, missing church, taking the Lord's name in vain). keeping these secret is fine because they aren't, like, actual crimes, and in small + devout enough communities there are definitely priests who would gossip about to their neighbors if not for the confessional seal.

really cool and good activities that are only an issue if you were raised to believe that they would send you to eternal neverending torture after death (jacking off, being gay, having premarital sex, getting/considering an abortion). these should obviously be kept secret because they're embarrassing and potentially dangerous. however, this is kind of a moot point, because any decent person (priest or otherwise) would understand this without needing a confessional seal making it official. so these need the seal to stop the average priest from tattling to a kid's parents when they confide in them.

actual literal crimes with prison sentences and everything (rape, murder, manslaughter, assault). you should not be telling anyone about these if you can help it. what the fuck guys. this isn't even an ethics thing, this is a "don't be fucking stupid" thing. if you murdered your abuser and got away with it, good for you! now shut the fuck up about it because murder is still illegal. is the guilt eating you alive so badly that you need absolution from God about it (cringe)? do what Protestants figured out centuries ago and cut the middleman out of the equation by talking to the J.C. directly via personal prayer! yes i am aware this is heretical. if you care about heresy more than getting caught you are stupid.

so looking at the three points above, the best argument in favor of confessional seal that i can formulate is "sure, it allows murderers and abusers to literally have their actions condoned by God with the explicit guarantee of never being held legally accountable or even changing their behavior (just say a few Hail Maries), but think about the consequences of removing it! priests would be even MORE bigoted than they already are! some of them might even GOSSIP!" like hm, okay, i hear you, you make some excellent points, i think we should nuke the Vatican

[iangallagherisadeadman]

shameless hot takes

i kind of dig the way lip ended up as a failure. i know a lot of people hate what the show did to him, how he never lived up to his potential (the same way they do it to rory gilmore) but like. that happens. lifes just like that. sometimes people who have had everything to live with grandiosity end up ruining everything up, and lips life was HARD and it SUCKED so him failing its kind of expectable i think. and its not like lips life ended, mans not even 30 and hes not just smart hes a genius, he will end up turning the table and coming straight to the top, i believe so.

frank doesn't love his children. i know people like to think frank was somewhat nice sometimes and that he was troubled but he loved the gallaghers his own way but i dont think he really did. he didnt even knew them. he was just too selfish and a narcissist and not even once a "act of love" was genuine or didnt have a gain for him or was somewhat for his benefit or interest.

of all plots, i believe gay jesus was the worst. i tried to remeber every other plot of the show and dont get me wrong the frank and his buddy pal mickey oshea SUCKED and i love ian hes my favorite character but what the fuck was that. the idea is really nice but it took so long to convey this arc of mania of him and it just was really badly written and executed and later it doesn't have importance to the plot. no surprise cameron monaghan wanted to skip shameless after that.

gallavich is not a healthy goal relationship. i mean yeah, they do love each other and they are good to each other, and i will excuse them for all the shit they did as teenagers cause they seemed to forgive each other and grow from it and i dont think they knew best but as adults they dont fucking communicate and mick broke ians leg like common. also most of time ian just seems to regret having married mick is really frustrating. i genuinely dont understand how that happened cause gallavich was all the writes had to milk and serve for the last seasons and they still fucked it up.

debbie is a rapist. she just is. just like sheila is too, i believe, and frank, and mandy, and jody, and estefania (i dont think jimmysteve is tho). they practiced nonconsensual sex and thats rape, end of story. i know the deborah debate is kind of hot ground and everybody has a different opinion about it cause she was young and didnt have the proper sex ed. but she did it not once, but twice AFTER facing consequences and getting to educate herself about what she did and why that was wrong, and i believe she would do it again if she had the motivation like she did on those circumstances. not saying matty or derick were cool guys, fuck them, matty wanted to go out with an underage girl when he met debbie and he kept going out with her after knowing she was much younger than he first thought and derick know that having sex can lead to having a baby and he and his family should have tried to be better to franny, but still they didnt deserved to by lied and abused by deb.

the gallaghers house should be debbie and carl's to decide what to do. the house is in fionas name, that much is true, but it is clear they kept contact with fiona at the begging of season 10 as she calls debbie to know about freddie and at that hall of fame episode too, so that much wouldn't be a problem. also, as fiona left, she left debbie in charge of the house's finances, and i believe the responsibility of what to do with the house is left with debbie too. i dont think fiona would be thrilled with the wouse being sold but she moved on and if her siblings are up to moving on too i dont think she would be opposed to it. that said, she would let the house deed on debbies hand i believe. taking up the fact that debbie is a mom with a little child and no other place to live, the fact she doesnt want to sell the house is comprehensible and i dont think any other gallagher can say its not, even more so lip. they tried to make the decision voting, letting the majority determinate what to do, but i dont think thats fair since lip could very easily get a house to himself and ian and mickey too, they had the money. now, about carl, is simply cause he paid for the house, therefore he should had a say on it. season 6, when the house was going to be sold, no other Gallagher than fiona was really trying to make to money to buy it. when she couldnt, carl saved the day and gave the money, and fiona was reluctant but she had no other option than to accept it, otherwise they would lose the house. even though the house is in fionas name like she likes to make it very clear, it is carls, and if he wanted to he could have put it in someone elses name, not lip cause he's in debt cause of the credit cards he has gotten to pay college, but he could have made it ians or anyone elses. he didnt cause he respects family and he respects fiona. since the house is his, and he also didnt really had any other place like debbie, they both should make the decision together.

fiona fucking sucks. i know a lot of people hates her and a lot loves her, and theres people in here that knows shes middle ground just like basically everybody on the show, which is called SHAMELESS for a reason. and i can agree with everybody. my point here is that she did nice things and stupid things and i dont hate her or love her for them, nor do i think all is forgiven because of her trauma or that shes number one worst character of the show. i think she sucks, think that she was wrong for all the liam shit, that she is an agent of chaos, that she was a bad girlfriend for all of her boyfriends just like they were bad for her (except mike he rocks), i think she make some of them worst really; i understand her desire to grown and be someone but i think it was risky to put the gallaghers house on the line so she could open the laundry (even more so cause i dont really consider it hers but carls), i understand how at some point she wanted to grow and take care of herself and be less of an parent in her sibling's life cause if she took care of herself since she was nine i think her siblings could try and take care of each other and their own ass a little so she could start living but the way she didnt really helped ian, the way she shut down debbie and was sad when debbie shuted her down, the way she left carl to his white boy fase without as much as trying and the way she said to them put VERONICA and KEVIN first at their emergency call before her was insane and she should be dragged for it idc. she was always mean to her siblings romantic interests too and that really bugs me cause mandy put lip in college and mickey cared for ian.

lip fucking sucks. most people here think the similarity between lip and frank starts and finishes on alcoholism and appearance but i think its more than that, i think both of them are narcissistic motherfuckers. i cant think of a single time lip put effort in anything for any other reason than to satisfy himself. it is the most evident when you think about his relationships SPECIALLY tami and fred, but if you think about his desire to be a father, the way he treated fiona when she was down, the whole sierra fiasco and how he treated her sons daddy, the karen ian thing; he even said that he helps his alcoholic friends because he thinks that if they cant do it then certainly lip himself won't be able to do it. i cant hold ian to the same parameters, i only think deb fiona and carl are really there for each other but ian gets a pass cause hes just selfish to some extent. he is bipolar and shit went down when he was still a child; still, joining the army and sending no news was a dick move and when he was good and on his meds and working as an EMT i think he wasnt really there for his family, tho he cared for mandy. cant really say much cause most of the time he was out of himself or in jail.

[unhonestlymirror]

It makes me sick to see "arguments" in defence of russia as "but their culture..." - did you know that a Wegeners granulomatosis was renamed because it was discovered(?) by the nazi doctor, Wegener? And they renamed it to granulomatosis with polyangiitis, and nothing bad happened. Did you know that a nazi Germany actually had a bunch of good doctors/artists/singers/etc who supported and even participated in the fucking genocide? We don't forgive nazis, then why should we forgive ruzzia?

Why do people still glorify russia? Why do people STILL draw Ukraine and Belarus as russia's sisters? Why do people use russian names for Ukrainian and Belaruthian cities and history? Why do people completely ignore what russia does to Ukraine? Why do people ignore the total linguicide of Belarus? Why do people erase us and glorify our rapist?

Sometimes, I feel like most of us never studied WW2 at school. Everyone is just ready to glorify the new hitler. Seems like most people are able to understand what Eastern Europeans feel only when a russian rocket hits their house. Otherwise, they just don't understand why rusliet or drawing Belarus with prorussian flag or drawing MY COUNTRY AS RUSSIA'S SISTER is fucking disgusting and very offensive.

I wish every such content maker to find out how it feels to live under russian occupation. Seems like the experience of real people is not enough for them.