#//she's really mellowed out in prison

[castelias-cat-queen]

All feline pokémon are like this in some way.

Kittywampus is particularly guilty of this. That Liepard can't sit still for a second, constantly pestering. If you ignore her, she sulks.

It's even worse when you speak fluent cat. They know I can understand them and they love to take advantage. I can never get a moment's rest, but I do love them...

Somewhat...

regular cat activities

[charliemwrites]

Part 1

Finally finished this! I think I put way too much pressure on myself to get this just right and it gave me some major writer's block. Anyway, please enjoy!

Content: Wet dreams, Somnophilia (sort of), Identity Porn, Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy (through dreams), Uncomfortable Situation, Pushy/Predatory behavior (brief)

“Bad dreams again?”

Drowsy and sluggish, you blink at your aunt. She’s as sleek and coiffed as always, pressed business attire and shiny hair. Shoulders back, spine straight. A woman people respect and heed without question.

Your mother’s voice whispers in your ear, that lovingly patronizing tone. See how professional she looks, dear? Isn’t that nice?

It’s not Aunt Katie’s fault though. She does look professional, and it is nice. It suits her.

You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “They’re not bad, really. Just… intense.”

She hums, elegant fingers tracing the edge of your borrowed desk. “They can’t be very good if they’re keeping you up.”

You’re tired enough that you almost correct her a second time. The problem is that the dreams are too good. You wake up panting, sweating, halfway to – well. You’re not about to discuss the finer points of a kinky wet dream with your CIA aunt. Besides, it’s silly to get so defensive of something that affects you seemingly negatively.

“Maybe,” you reply, rubbing at your heavy eyes. It feels like you’re trying to look through clear jelly.

“Why don’t you take a break?” Aunt Kate suggests.

You frown, a pang of guilt striking your empty tummy. “No… no, I’m okay. It’s not even lunch yet.”

She smiles at you. The same fond smile she’s always graced you with, on holidays and birthdays, whenever she could escape the secretive walls and red tape to be with family.

“You’re already ahead on paperwork. You’re not a bad employee for getting a little sun.”

Your eyes flick longingly to the door.

Apparently, the government doesn’t believe in things like windows or sunlight. Your little desk is at the very end of a long, half-empty hallway in the middle of a concrete cube and drowning in awful blue fluorescence. You can’t even bring yourself to drag a plant to this crappy little island because you’d feel too guilty putting it through this.

“Okay… maybe just for a few minutes,” you allow.

Her smile widens as she nods for you to follow. “C’mon, I’ll walk you out. I think the dogs will be free for some enrichment.”

Well, that certainly gets you out of your squeaky office chair.

Honey sunlight drizzles over your neck and shoulders, dripping syrupy-slow down your spine. It diffuses through your chest, chasing away the artificial chill of the office. The sleepy haze retreats like frost melting from glass.

You sigh into the fresh air, ignoring the tang of gunpowder lingering on the breeze, and turn your face to the sun. Summer is coming to an end, the heat broken into mellower warmth. There won’t be many days like this left before autumn bites down and shakes the leaves from the trees. A shame you’ll likely waste most of them in your administrative prison. 

The dogs stretch out in the grass around you, tongues lolling and eyes bright, keeping you company. A furry bouquet of black and tan in the manicured grass, their ears and tails like stalks to strange plants.

You bury your fingers in Zeus’s coat and get a fuzzy white tummy for your efforts. He’s a young and handsome thing, the newest addition to the K-9 unit, still a bit fluffy around the ears. You try not to think of how that will fade and harden, just like the older dogs in the unit, just like his human counterparts. Just scratch at that itchy spot by his ribs and smile when his hindleg kicks.

Friga stands and stretches on your right side, leaning her shoulder into yours. Then picks her way around the others to sniff at Zeus. Offended by her interruption, he flails onto his stomach and nips at her, one big forepaw thumping the ground.

She goads him into playtime, and you watch with the older pack members as they begin to romp. They tumble and grumble around you, heedless of bumping into any of the others. You laugh, bright and loud—

The back of your neck tingles.

You glance around, not even sure why. Until you see a figure across the field. He’s standing by the track where about two dozen men are jogging. Recruits, you guess. But he’s not observing them or barking orders. No, he’s clearly turned to face you. It’s too far to make out any features, apart from what seems to be an unusual haircut.

You quickly glance away, surreptitiously trying to determine if the man’s attention was on something else that happened to be in your direction. But there’s little else but you and the dogs in this field, the kennels noticeably off to the left.

Then again, someone sitting in the grass with half the K-9 unit is a bit unusual. He’s probably trying to decide if it’s something that needs investigation. You hope it’s not.

Still, you can’t shake the discomfiting sense that he’s looking at you.

You ignore him until it’s time for the dogs to go back - but that prickly feeling of being watched never subsides.

That night, in the guest room of your aunts’ house, the dreams take on new life.

It starts as it always does. A dark room. A lush bed. Silky sheets. Moonlight seeping through blinds like smoke. And him.

He’s behind you. A broad body so solid you’d think he was a wall if not for the heat. It’s so intense this time, like a wildfire raging out of control, crawling from his skin beneath yours. You sense more than feel the big hand around your jaw. Rough fingers clutch at the plush of your thigh. Hot breath fans across the back of your neck, rippling shivers down your spine.

There’s a voice in your ear. No words you can discern, just a thunder-deep rumble with smoky edges. Stubble scrapes the delicate skin of your neck and catches in your hair.

A thick, heavy cock is buried deep inside you, kissing the entrance to your womb. Your pussy twinges a sweet-sharp ache with each deliberate grind of his hips. He’s spreading you open to get as deep as he can, throbbing balls pressed up tight to your sopping entrance.

Your own hands are all but useless. One twists desperately in the sheets, the other clutches at the meaty swell of his ass. Pleasure upends anything like sense or thought, even hazy dream logic. There is just this man fucking you like he owns you, two of his fingers in your drooling mouth, petting your tongue. A ring clicks against your teeth.

“Found you,” he whispers.

You jolt, eyes flying open. The powder blue ceiling of your borrowed room greets you. You’ve kicked the cotton sheets into a tangled mess around your ankles, tiny shirt ridden up your chest. Your panties are soaked.

The taste of metal lingers behind your incisors.

It’s a busy day. For once, you’re free from the confines of your sad little nook. Aunt Kate must have taken pity on your sorry state the day before and has procured busy work. Files that need hand delivery, or physical reports for you to gather. You don’t care if it’s just something to get you out of the office, you relish the stolen moments outside between buildings.

If there’s a downside, it’s the glances you attract. Everything about you projects civilian, despite the access card prominently pinned to the lapel of your blazer. It draws curious once-overs at best and suspicious scans at worst – or speculative appreciation at the very worst. Every time a fresh-faced recruit or overly decorated middle-aged man lingers as you pass, you hear your mother’s voice again.

Don’t you know what those military men are like? Practically animals. I couldn’t possibly let you be exposed to them.

It’s long ingrained to keep your eyes forward, head level, and try to keep your hips from swaying as much as possible. You’re grateful for whatever bit of paperwork you can clutch to your chest, just to hide your figure and have something to do with your hands.

You’re picking up some personnel files from the infirmary, smile brightly at the receptionist as she passes them over. Mallory is only a couple years older than you, and she’s been working here a year already.

“Lunch in the mess today?” she asks, spinning a pen between her fingers.

“As if you even need to ask,” you tease. “Noon?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

She blows you a kiss as you leave, counting the number of files to be sure you have them all. Your eyes skim over one of the names, a white label on the folder fin. “MacTavish, J.” in blocky typewriter font. You shuffle them back into a neat stack and pivot for Aunt Kate’s office.

You’re not in the moonlit bedroom this time. A half-moon grins down from a starry sky, wearing smoky nebulas for lipstick. Beneath you lays cool grass and soft earth, rich and loamy in your heaving lungs. Petals blooming in the dark kiss your overheated skin, little relief for the burn in your veins.

The change in scenery is almost as dizzying as the man between your thighs. Almost.

But it’s not the dew-saturated breeze that muddles your bewildered thoughts. It’s the hot, wet, clever tongue lavishing your drenched pussy. He licks in broad stripes from your aching hole to your throbbing clit, only ever pausing to indulge a slow suck to the bundle of nerves, before resuming that hypnotic circuit.

One thigh is hooked over a wide shoulder, your heel dug into the flexing muscles of a broad back. The other is spread by a big, calloused hand, giving him unfettered access to the softest, neediest parts of you.

You mewl desperately, hand darting down to his bobbing head. Your nails scrape shorn stubble, eliciting a gravelly groan that sends electricity up your tingling spine. It’s nothing compared to the growl you earn when your fingers twist into the longer, soft strands at the top.

For the first time, you’re able to voice more than helpless moans and wanton whimpers.

“Please,” you sob softly, “please.”

You feel him smirking, a wicked curl against your fluttering cunt. Then he focuses the tip of that awful, dexterous tongue on your clit, flicking in purposeful little strokes.

M-A-

“S-so close,” you whine, hips twitching. He pins you flat, pace never faltering.

V-I-

You shudder as your pussy clenches and spasms, finally, finally—

You wake with a sharp sound, head spinning. Your orgasm washes away like the tide, leaving disappointment and exhaustion behind. You nearly scream into your pillow as you press your thighs together. Still half asleep, it even feels like you have beard-burn.

You’re in line at the mess with Mallory, listening to her complain about some rude colonel that just had to share his opinion about her acrylics. She does the best impressions, and you’re grinning and laughing as the two of you shuffle through the options. You’re reaching for a scoop of rice when the conversation behind you catches your attention.

“—came in a couple days ago.”

“The whole squad?”

“With Braveheart himself.”

A snort. “You better not let MacTavish hear you say that. He’ll—”

“Helloooo?” You blink at Mallory, who arches her brows and waves a bagel at you. “Want one?”

“Oh, uh… sure, why not,” you answer.

“Atta girl!” she cheers, tossing it in the toaster. “Carbs for days.”

You giggle but can’t help glancing behind you. The two men have already moved on though. Not that it was any of your business – or anything interesting. You’re not sure why that caught your attention. Men are just loud, you suppose, snatching a couple to-go packets of cream cheese.

As you’re leaving the mess, you happen to glance over your shoulder. A pair of sharp blue eyes catch yours from one of the tables. A group of men, just about to sit. Mallory tugs your shirt to keep you from clipping the doorjamb and you hurry after her.

There’s heat at your back. Not from a body this time, but a fire burning low and hot in a hearth. No, the body is in front of you this time, filling up your watery field of vision. Peachy skin and coarse dark hair, an old scar slashing across a sharp hip, miles of lean muscle.

Not that you have much opportunity to ogle with tears blurring your sight. The fat cock bullying the back of your throat makes it hard to do anything but choke. You dig your nails into a thick thigh and pull back, writhing your tongue along a puffy vein as you go. The leaking head rests on your drenched tongue as you catch your breath. Smoke and leather and musk saturate your lungs, cloud your empty head.

He smells so good; you don’t even like cigars.

A rough thumb caresses your cheek, a silent request for you to continue. You can practically feel the lust-drunk moans vibrating in his chest – so deep, they’re barely audible over the crackling fire.

You hiccup as deep a breath as you can manage and swallow him down again. He’s silky on your tongue, you sigh softly through your nose as the blunt head flirts with your gag reflex. You slacken your jaw despite the ache already crawling into the joint. Even then, your teeth scrape the base a bit, but that only makes him twitch against your soft palate.

“Look here, love.”

Your lashes flutter as you try to focus your gaze, scrolling your eyes up his body. Most of the details are lost either in the haze of desire or the vagary of dreams, but the blue eyes that greet you are sharper than real life.

You jolt back to consciousness with a dry cough, the scent of him still haunting your senses. You stumble to the restroom for water. Don’t even realize that you’re glancing in the mirror over your shoulder, expecting someone to be there, until you realize you’re alone.

Oddly bereft, you trudge back to bed and try to focus on the clean soap smell of your aunts’ detergent.

In moments like this, it’s hard not to blame yourself.

Not because you’ve done anything wrong, or even feel like you have. It’s because the situation is so frustratingly out of your control that it’s almost easier to tell yourself that one decision or another would have avoided this outcome. A sharper response, a frown instead of a smile, a different walking route.

(There’s also your mother’s voice, always. Saying to be smart, to pay attention, to not “put yourself” in a vulnerable position. You silence that voice viciously this time.)

Still, the fact of the matter is, there’s no personal choice you could have made to keep Corporal Callahan from cornering you in this supply closet. You just wanted a box of tissues.

“Look, I know you’re Agent Laswell’s niece, but I don’t see why we can’t go out because of it,” he reasons. As if that’s the reason you’ve been trying to gently dissuade his attempts.

“It’s not that—” you begin, shifting. He’s standing too close, but you refuse to back yourself any deeper into this tiny space. The doorway is right there, he’s just taking up all of it.

“Then just say yes,” he chuckles. His tone is all smooth and easy, meant to be charming maybe? “Just one date, that’s all I’m asking.”

Except you’re not asking, you think with helpless frustration. The sharp words get trapped behind your teeth, cutting up the roof of your mouth. Your heart is beating so hard and loud you can barely hear his “romantic” overtures.

“I’m not really…” You’re not even sure what to say this time; you’ve already told him you’re not looking to date. He’d said some vaguely predatory line about changing your mind.

In the absence of a finished statement, Callahan takes the opportunity to continue cajoling.

“C’mon,” he sing-songs, “I’m not letting you out of there until you say yes.”

You pry your jaw open, about to agree to it just for the sake of getting free. Deal with the fallout later.

There’s a rush of air and suddenly the doorway is empty. You briefly see Callahan against the opposite wall, face blank in unpleasant surprise. Then a big body blocks your view of him. Broad, bunched shoulders and thick thighs. A shock of brunet hair shaved close at the sides and long at the top. Your entire body locks up.

“You come near her again, they won’ stop findin’ pieces of ya, aye?” A growl, low and rough, Scottish accent thick. You shiver.

Callahan stutters something, a few garbled syllables through a strained and winded voice. You think you might hear “captain” in there somewhere. The bigger man shifts, you hear a muffled thump – Callahan hitting the wall again, you think. Then, with seemingly no effort, your savior tosses Callahan to the side like trash. He stumbles, catches himself.

“Away ‘n bile yer heid.”

Callahan flicks one last frightened glance your way then hurries off, proverbial tail tucked between his scrawny legs. You don’t even watch him go, eyes glued to the stranger’s muscular back. He rolls his wide shoulders, cracks his neck, and finally turns.

Familiar blue eyes pin you in place as he steps closer. The scent of cigar smoke and leather teases your nose.

A voice you’ve known for months rumbles in his chest. “Found you.”

Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[cuppajj]

Thoughts about BY 5 and 6

So I finished the episode at an unhealthy morning hour, and now after getting my full sleep, I can fully share my thoughts!

And of course, spoilers for the newest episode!

First things first, I want to talk about Burning Spice himself. A while back, I made a post about my hopes for him and how I didn’t want him to be a temperamental meathead, but instead a smart and calculating person who took from his extensive knowledge of history to psychologically destroy as much as physically. Did we get that?

Kinda, kinda not. Spice isn’t another Purple Yam like I’d hoped, he has more character than being just angry, but the hotheadedness does remain most of the way through. He reminds me of a strongman anime villain, the kind whose braun speaks more than brain, but still capable of strategy. Most of that strategy comes from Nutmeg Tiger though, as Spice is mostly interested in fighting Cheese from beginning to end. There’s no moment where he messes with her mind directly and picks apart her vulnerabilities beyond surface level “you hold things dear to you that I will destroy”. Which, implication is that he was more focused on just fighting, which in the context of how/why he is the way he is, kinda makes sense.

And about that, I’ll address it briefly: So we learn that Spice’s corruption, at least the straw that broke the camel’s back, was that he got bored watching history unfold. I think it’s very cool! While I was interested in a little more nuance behind his boredom, sometimes villains don’t need a complex reason for why they do what they do. It does make Spice less sympathetic than Mystic Flour though, so it seems like not all Beasts may be equal in cause and backstory. However, stuff about him may be explored later, since he’s going to be back.

So I would say that Spice isn’t as one note as I’d hoped, but he is a simple villain. A simple and very very fun and scary villain, but there could’ve been a lot more to his character in this story that made it lacking for me. I know BY chapters are usually short, but there could’ve possibly been more time showing the parallels between him and Cheese beyond a dialogue or so. It would’ve been really cool if Spice addressed those directly, using it against Cheese. Making her rethink/relive the trauma of losing everyone and mentally destroying her… like what if there was an exchange in the prison cell when she was at her lowest? What if Smoked Cheese had either been incapacitated and unable to speak, or in a separate cell so Cheese could be entirely at the Beast’s mercy? (We DID get a bit of that when Cheese realized how apathetic he was and what he saw in her soul jam, but that was more of a disgusted shock than a mental breakdown.) Smoked could help her out of her turmoil later (an exchange between him and Spice could’ve also been awesome), but Spice leaving mental damage on Cheese would’ve further spread the idea that he also values breaking things internally.

But, I guess Spice is just destroy destroy destroy to the point where he doesn’t really care about anything else, which is… fine. Admittedly not my cup of tea because it’s so basic, but it doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy his motivation. I hope we get a little more nuance next time we see him.

Anyway love these sprites!! I wished we got more related to the first two, it shows a mellower and/or ironically colder side of him that I think would’ve really helped amplify his fear factor. Spice is all fun and destruction but the oh shit comes from him showing more of the calculated side he used to have.

But speaking of Golden Cheese, I’ll talk about her next.

Overall I really liked her story here! I love seeing her in action and on her own, and her interactions with Smoked Cheese were fun to see! Smoked Cheese was extra fun, I loved how he had sass while still caring for people beyond his kingdom’s entourage (his voice and mannerisms remind me of tfp knockout it’s crazy). I was also happy to learn how the soul cheese worked, since that was a question I had from last episode. It appears Smoked isn’t in his body, but his soul is projecting a physical form given mass that relies on Golden Cheese’s power. Very interesting, and I wonder if he’s just going to stay out now, or if he’ll return? And what of the others too…

Now, something I will say about Cheese is that while her character arc made sense for her in a bubble, I feel a similar thing like I did with Spice that it could’ve been much better. Personally, while Cheese staying true to her greediness and immense care for her treasures is a good thing to power her up, I don’t think it made her as bigger a person than Spice than she could’ve. What would’ve been cooler and more thematic for her character would’ve actually been accepting that destruction and the loss of things she cares about is a natural part of life.

What I mean by this is that while Spice embodies destruction, Cheese essentially embodies creation, which are two polar opposites that have their place in the universe. Antagonizing one or the other should come with a deeper approach to the message, and frankly, antagonizing destruction in its entirety is a very black and white angle. Destruction can be inherently bad and tragic, yes, but it can also pave the way for new life and new things to be created. Plantlife grows back after a forest fire. You can build something better upon the ruins of what was before. For Cheese, her kingdom could’ve been lost/destroyed, but she could’ve accepted it and strove for a newer and better kingdom. Which, in some parts she did, but my philosophy also applies to people lost too.

Death and destruction was a prominent theme in Cheese’s backstory, and much of her Golden City arc was confronting that. I suppose this is a separate talk for another time, but to put it simply, she didn’t have an arc about accepting those who were lost, moreso about striving to bring those who were lost back. The story ended with her promising to bring her friends back, instead of accepting that she lost them and focusing her strength on protecting those she still has with her. That last part could’ve actually been what the Spice story led to, with her first wanting to find a way to bring everyone back, but deciding by the end of it that she can protect the memory of her kingdom along with the living friends she still has. Smoked Cheese could’ve even helped her with that, showing that he cares for her over himself, leading to a heartfelt goodbye between the two. This is just a wishful image, but it would’ve been a really good way for CRK to tackle a deep theme and touch a lot of people’s feelings. But what we got was a lot simpler, with both Spice and Cheese’s characters and themes, which I guess makes sense. Some stories (or the game itself) don’t really want to be anything super deep in narrative, and that’s fine as long as they’re still fun, which this was.

Lastly I will say, I fear the awakening thing will get a little predictable and repetitive from here on out. Beast is a threat for the first chapter, continues to be a threat up until Ancient does a power of love and friendship introspection and transforms into a stronger version of themself. I hope one of them will be a little subversive in this—I don’t know how, I just hope these great stories aren’t bogged down by predictability!

But anyway, those are my thoughts about BY 5 and 6. Overall a great story, I’m so happy to get Spice and Cheese action because they’re two of my favorites, Smoked Cheese was fun, and I’m looking forward to the new Shmilk stuff we will be getting around the anniversary. After that I really hope Eternal Sugar is next, I have a bunch of thoughts/hopes for them too!!

Anyway thanks for reading!

[egglain]

Give You What You Want (‘Cause Your Love is All I Need)

Rating: E (18+) - mdni Pairing: Choso x Yuki Content: first date & first time, switch! choso & switch! yuki, pegging, cumming in pants, vaginal & anal sex (fingering, penetration), unprotected, creampie, marking (biting), oral sex (choso receiving), soft sex turned rough, edging, breast worship/nipple play, loss of virginity (choso), dirty talk (begging, praise, "baby" and "good boy" for choso), breeding, porn with plot but canon divergent, minor gojo & yuji appearances Word Count: 6.6k

Summary: Choso had never been on a date. Especially not with a woman as beautiful as Yuki Tsukumo. Choso had never done a lot of things, which– in the wake of his upcoming meeting with the suspected love of his life– was a daunting thought.

A first love. A first date. A first time. But definitely not the last.

A/N: Thank you to the wonderful @melancholiaincarnate for beta reading this, and for putting up with my yapping about this the past week.

Hope you all enjoy, and thank you for 100 followers!

Yuki Tsukumo liked rough things.

She had always been like that, really.

“Dainty” was never her style. She grew up in the sticks– hands buried in the earth, cuts, scrapes, and bruises forging her thick second skin. She was a fighter; punched out more baby teeth than she could count, sent mean boys crying home to their mothers without regret.

As she grew, the scrapes and bruises faded, but the fire inside never waned. Yuki Tsukumo was a special-grade sorcerer. Her knuckles never forgot the feeling of bone giving way, nor did her blood forget the rush of adrenaline. In fact, the rough side of her grew stronger, even as her exterior mellowed. 

She had a soft spot for people who were the same.

Bleeding hearts seemed to summon her; she always ended up right where she needed to be. She took broken boys under her wing– rough-n-tumble kids who had lost their way in the world. They were like little brothers to her.

It was comforting. When darkness clouded her vision, it wasn’t because she was evil; no. She wasn’t alone in that. Geto Suguru, Todo Aoi– countless others– lived a rough life, wished for better, turned to violence. Turned to jujutsu. Turned to justice.

Yuki’s sense of justice may have been idiosyncratic. Her ideals, her musings, may have led some down the wrong path. But it didn’t weigh on her. She lived a self-governed life, followed her own feet in pursuit of something nameless– something she had yet to uncover.

But for now, lying on the floor of Tengen’s endless void, living was enough.

That… and Choso.

Yuki Tsukumo was not aware she saved Choso’s life in Shibuya.

Nor that she continued to do so.

Choso wasn’t much of a talker; as their days in Tengen’s tomb rolled together, Yuki didn’t uncover much about the man. 

When he did speak, it was usually about his brothers– recounting their childhoods (something which Yuki couldn’t quite wrap her head around), affirming the hatred he felt towards his father, or wondering how Yuji was doing. He worried himself sick over the last one.

He was something soft– something fledgling, discovering the cruel ways of the world. He was a protector, a feeler, sensitive and kind. In short, he was everything Yuki was not.

Where she was sharp blows, he was soft touches. They complimented each other, cancelled out each other’s worries. It kept them both sane in the white, endless chamber.

Choso Kamo was not aware he had saved Yuki’s life either.

Their time in the tomb came and passed; Gojo Satoru managed to escape the prison realm, take down the false cult leader, and avenge his old friend. Yuji kept Sukuna contained. It brought a serenity to Yuki that she hadn’t anticipated– all these years, she bore an invisible guilt, one so deeply-ingrained that she didn’t realize the hold it had on her.

Yuki got to meet Choso– properly, this time. Without the stress, the anger, the uncertainty.

They went out to a bar. It was Choso’s first time visiting one. He couldn’t take more than a sip of his drink– the sting of the alcohol had his eyes tearing up in a way that warmed the pit of Yuki’s stomach deliciously.

She met his little brother. They went out for crêpes. Yuki and Choso split some choco-strawberry monstrosity; Choso picked out all the strawberries for her. They were her favourite. Yuki learned that Yuji was a good friend of Todo’s– a fact that had Yuki’s heart bursting at the seams.

Choso was Yuji’s big brother, and her little brother was Yuji’s best friend.

So when he asked to take her on a date (to court her, as he put it), how could she say no?

***

Choso had never been on a date.

Especially not with a woman as beautiful as Yuki Tsukumo.

Choso had never done a lot of things, which– in the wake of his upcoming meeting with the suspected love of his life– was a daunting thought.

So he did what he always did when he had a problem.

Consulted Yuji Itadori.

Sitting on the floor of the boy’s dorm, playing with the stitching on the hem of his shirt, Choso couldn’t bring himself to meet his little brother’s eyes. As the elder, it was his job to teach Yuji about the ways of the world– not the other way around. Admitting defeat, asking for help, was difficult. 

Except when it was her.

“You said you had something you needed to ask me?” Yuji layed back on his bed, mashing buttons on a multicoloured controller. “What’s the problem?”

“I… asked someone on a date.”

A sad electronic melody signalled the death of Yuji’s character on the red screen.

“You asked someone on a… date?”

“Yes.”

“Like– romantically?”

His little brother was looking at him quizzically– his eyebrows were so far raised into his hairline that they disappeared, swallowed up by his pink curls.

“I hope that was clear to her... I think I like like her.”

Yuji dropped his controller on the bed, shuffling closer to punch his big brother’s shoulder. “Oh– wow, Cho. Shit, man. That’s amazing! Congratulations!”

Choso nodded, looking down at his hands. Yuki had painted his nails recently– purple, to match hers– and he couldn’t help the fuzzy feeling spreading in his chest.

“I want it to be perfect.”

“Aw… it will be. Don’t even sweat it.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never gone on one before. I don’t know where to even start.”

Yuji let out a low whistle, flopping onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “The planning is the hardest part, I think.”

“How do you do it?”

Yuji looked down at him, flushing an embarrassed pink. “Well uh… I’ve never actually… gone on one, I think. Well– Fushiguro and I do date-like stuff all the time, but we’ve never… spoken about it. So I don’t know if it counts.”

Choso deflated.

His best advisor was not going to save him this time.

Yuji didn’t miss the way Choso slumped into himself.

“Maybe ask Gojo? He’s super experienced with women. Megumi told me himself!”

***

A tall white-haired sorcerer whistled, gazing up at the beamed wooden ceiling of the Jujutsu Tech hallway. Golden late afternoon light streamed into the halls; Choso had spent the better part of the day looking for the man before him, but he never seemed to exist in the places he was supposed to be.

Looking at the bag in his hand– presumably filled with kikufuku, if the shop name was anything to go by– Gojo hadn’t even been on the premises at all.

The sorcerer tapped his glossy lips pensively. “Women? Mmmmm… never been on a date with one!” 

Purple nails dug into sweaty palms.

“Oh. Yuji said… nevermind. Sorry to interrupt you.” Choso turned to leave, embarrassment painted vermillion across his cheeks.

A black blindfold obscured his eyes, but Choso could feel the weight of Gojo Satoru’s gaze as it fell onto him.

“Choso Kamo– hold on. Yuji thinks I’m good with women?” A pearly-white grin stretched out pale, ethereal features. “Maybe I can help. Here. Come into my office.”

Which is how he ended up here.

Choso shuffled his chair imperceptibly closer. It was luxuriously upholstered– as everything else was, in the dimly-lit restaurant.

“So um… do you have a favourite Digimon?”

Yuki paused from where she cut into a very red steak. Brown eyes met his from under golden bangs, something akin to amusement glinting in her eyes.

“Digimon? Hmmm… Ordinemon.” Yuki skewered a sliver of meat, bringing it up to her prettily painted lips. Suddenly, Choso’s throat felt very dry. “I didn’t know you were a fan, Cho.”

“Oh–” Choso fiddled with the sleeve of his dress shirt, pushing it up just a little past his watch to feign looking at the time. Chicken scratch, miniscule, scrawled out key words Gojo had taught him. “I like… um… Shoutmon. X7. The superior one.”

Yuki tilted her head, hitting at him once again with that loaded gaze. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes.” Choso met her eyes, downing his water in thirsty gulps. His shirt collar was tight, and was it hot in here?

The restaurant was beautiful– all dark wood and black lacquer, low golden light and modern fixtures. Another recommendation by the strongest. The waiter had plucked a cloth napkin from in front of him, folded it, and placed it on Choso’s lap upon his arrival. A golden, fizzy drink tasting uniquely sharp filled a tall, skinny glass to the brim. Multiple utensils and several plates of varying sizes spanned the table in front of him. 

Choso felt distinctly out of place, but Yuki looked right at home. It filled his chest with an ache he couldn’t describe.

He wanted more of it.

“You’re full of surprises, Choso Kamo.”

She was a vision, smiling at him so soft over the rim of her near-empty glass. She finished it, glossy lips leaving a sinful print on the side. He slid his champagne closer to her, and she took it graciously, swapping it for her empty flute.

He wanted to press his lips to her mark.

Choso’s face flushed; he hoped Yuki didn’t notice under the low lights.

A young, too-happy waiter roused Choso from his thoughts, taking their dessert order. Choso had barely touched his pappardelle bolognese. 

Yuki whispered something to the man, neatly manicured nails covering her mouth. Her eyes never left Choso’s. Her gaze was hypnotic, drinking in Choso’s face in a way that had him squirming.

He whispered an apology, eager to excuse himself to the bathroom as the waiter left. Purple-tipped fingers wrapped around his wrist as he stood.

“Choso.”

“Yes, Miss. Tsukumo?”

“‘Yuki’ is fine, Cho.”

“Sorry.” The tips of his ears burnt. “Yes, Miss. Yuki?”

It felt good in his mouth, on his tongue, and the way Yuki smiled in response had his head spinning.

“Thank you for this… it’s real nice.”

“You deserve nice things.”

Her eyes softened, crinkling at the corners. “Aren’t you the sweetest? I just wanna eat you up.”

The coo she used to speak to him had his stomach doing aerials.

Fuck.

He needed to find a bathroom quick.

“Poor boy– so embarrassed. You can go, Cho. But hurry back soon for dessert, okay?”

He nodded as fingers loosened their grip, wrapping instead around the stem of her– Choso’s– glass.

“Good boy.”

All the heat drained from his face, flooding the pit of his stomach. His legs had never moved quicker.

In the dark zen of the bathroom, Choso splashed cold water on his face. He paced a bit, texted Yuji that it was going well, made sure he ate dinner too, and drenched his face again. After patting himself dry with a soft paper towel and giving himself a pep-talk, he made his way back to the table on shaky legs.

Before Yuki sat an elaborate mess of dark chocolate, vanilla ice cream, and strawberries. A thin silver candle crowned the middle of a stout chocolate cake at the plate’s centre, letting off small golden sparks. Choso took his seat, and Yuki handed him a tiny metal spoon with a smile.

“Let’s make a toast, Cho.” Yuki carved into the cake with her spoon, dark chocolate oozing out the centre and pooling around the white of the ice cream. “To many more dates.”

The thought filled him with butterflies– the exact ones he needed to tamp down in the bathroom.

“To many more dates,” he whispered, almost a prayer.

Choso dug into the cake himself, skirting around the strawberries as he scooped up molten chocolate with his spoon. Bringing it up to his lips, warmth pooled on Choso’s tongue as the rich cake melted away. The cocoa cut through the sweetness with a subtle bitter tang, and he couldn’t help but hum.

Yuki moaned around her spoon, shutting her eyes in bliss. Scooping up a sliver of strawberry, she popped it into her mouth in quick succession.

“Fuck, that’s good. You like it, Choso?”

“Yeah– what is it?”

“Chocolate lava cake.” She smiled as she dug in for her second scoop, dragging a little piece of cake through the ice cream lapping at the plate’s edge.

Popping it into her mouth, vanilla cream painted the edges of her pretty pink lips a foamy white.

Brown eyes locked, and Yuki’s slender tongue peeked out to clean the corner of her mouth. Choso felt something low in his navel stir.

“You like dark chocolate better than milk chocolate, right?”

Choso had never given it much thought, but now that she’d pointed it out, it was undeniably true. It wasn’t as cloyingly sweet; he could fill his belly and not feel sick. He planned to do just that. With another heaping spoonful, Choso’s cheeks puffed as he nodded.

“Fun fact about dark chocolate,” Yuki whispered, jaw resting atop a delicate fist.

Under the table, something brushed against Choso’s leg. He stiffened as a nylon-clad foot slipped under his pant leg, dragging up his shin slowly.

“It’s a natural aphrodisiac.”

***

“Yuki… please…”

Punched out of his lungs, his pleas were so beautifully broken.

“Please what, baby? Can you use your words for me?”

“Do something–”

Yuki had dragged him from the restaurant as soon as their receipt finished printing. Choso looked so pretty in the passenger seat of her sports car– cheeks flushed and eyes wide as her hand squeezed the inside of his thigh dangerously close to his tented crotch. He could only speak in stuttering breaths, fidgeting in his seat as he snapped his gaze between his boner and Yuki’s fingers.

“So needy. You can be good and wait for me, can’t you?”

A half-hearted whimper escaped his lips, and Yuki rewarded him with a little slap on his inner thigh. Choso’s spine shot rigid, thighs trembling deliciously under the soft skin of her palm as she soothed the spot in gentle circles.

As much as Yuki Tsukumo preferred life overseas, she had a lush one in Tokyo too. Much like Gojo Satoru, her status as a special grade afforded her certain privileges unthinkable to the general public. Her apartment– a swanky glass-walled penthouse in Roppongi– was straight out of a magazine. Her sleek foreign car was another luxury she flaunted, especially as she sped through the bright Shibuya streets.

She might have set a world record with the speed at which she made it home.

Tossing her keys onto a stout side table and pulling Choso inside, Yuki couldn’t help but feel a little smug. If Choso’s wide-eyed stare were anything to go by, he had never been in a girl’s apartment before, let alone one as lush as this. Yuki basked in the feeling. He really was too cute.

“Wow…”

“You like? I’m glad.” Yuki slipped off her heels, tossing them aside as she padded further into the house.

With a click of a button, her fireplace roared to life, bathing the vast darkness of her living room in low, warm light.

Choso, bless his heart, stayed put at the entrance.

“Cho?”

“Yes, Miss. Yuki?”

“What are you doing over there, baby?”

The way he fidgeted every time Yuki purred out his name had her navel heating and ovaries clenching. He looked utterly edible in his little suit and dress shirt combo– he even left his hair down this time.

“Come closer so I can look at you properly.”

He undid his dress shoes and approached the couch where Yuki sprawled. With another click, soft music hummed from her surround-sound system, something to fill the silence and warm her up.

Not that she thought she needed it.

Seeing Choso up close, flush dusted over the stripe on his nose, he was even prettier. Full cheeks, soft lips, big doe eyes– he was a vision. And here he stood between her thighs, all wrapped up just for her.

“Take your jacket off, Cho. It’s just us.”

He obeyed almost immediately. Muscle ripped just beneath the thin black fabric of his button-up, chest straining against the buttons as he slipped his arms out their sleeves.

A purple manicured hand dragged down the front panel of his shirt, palming the contour of a soft pec. The ghost of a touch, and his eyes were already glassy in the dim light.

Delicious indeed.

“Choso, baby?” Yuki’s voice was honeyed, dripping in saccharine seduction.

He was nodding before he even knew what she wanted, as eager to please as a dog.

“You know why I brought you here?”

“No, ma’am.”

The way he addressed her– so formal– drew a giggle from Yuki.

“I wanna sleep with you.”

“Oh… okay.”

“You know what that means, baby?”

Choso shifted his weight from foot to foot, pants obviously tightening around the crotch. A crotch that was mere inches from Yuki’s face as he stood before her.

The man nodded, and her hand slipped lower on his torso, dragging down the flat of his tummy. 

“Mr. Gojo taught me a lot.”

Yuki stilled.

“Gojo… Satoru?”

Choso nodded.

Yuki barked a laugh.

“Oh, you poor thing. Gojo Satoru– oh. Baby, no. Never take advice from him.”

Choso flushed, eyebrows furrowing under dark bangs. Doe eyes, once starry and lustful, now filled with worry.

“I’m sorry. I’ve never gone on a date before, and Yuji said–” it was a mile a minute. 

Yuki’s heart warmed.

“Is that why you were asking about Digimon?”

“Was that bad?”

“No– no. Of course not. But you haven’t seen it, have you?”

The shake of Choso’s hung head had Yuki cooing, pulling him into her lap by the hip.

“Aw, that’s alright, Cho. You didn’t have to go all that way to try to impress me. I like hearing about what you like.”

Choso’s eyes found the spot where they met– his thighs atop Yuki’s– and she could feel the staccato of his heartbeat against her skin.

“I’ll talk you through it. We’ll go slow, okay?”

Choso nodded, and gentle fingertips lifted his gaze back to her face. 

“We’ll start with some rules. Rule one– you need to use your words. Let’s try that again. Can I talk you through sleeping with me, Choso Kamo?”

“Yes.” It was quick, almost cutting Yuki off. “I’d like that… please, Miss Yuki.”

“Rule two: as cute as it is, no ‘Miss Yuki’ while we’re doing this. Okay? Makes a woman feel old,” she laughed.

“Okay… Yuki.”

“Good boy.”

Choso preened, chest puffing up imperceptibly. Yuki ran one hand from his hip up his torso, circling his pec with gentle fingertips slowly.

“Rule three– and the most important one– if you don’t like what I’m doing, you’re hurting, or you just want to stop, you tell me. Immediately. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.”

Yuki pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, then the tip of his nose. Choso fidgeted in her lap, hands awkwardly folded atop his clothed thighs.

Running a thumb dangerously close to the peak of his chest, the man stiffened, breathing heavily through his nose.

“You gotta relax, baby. Here. Give me your hands.”

Purple-nailed hands– bigger and veinier than hers, but painted just the same– met Yuki’s in between them. Yuki slowly brought his palms up, placing them onto her covered breasts.

Choso was transfixed, running his fingers reverently over the soft silk of her top. The firmness was unexpected. A tentative squeeze left his mind spinning; if not for the warm weight in his palms, then for the soft pretty noise that escaped Yuki’s throat.

His pants were uncomfortably tight. And warm. And wet.

Sharp purple nails raked over Choso’s areolas through his shirt. He sucked in a stuttered breath, back arching as his hands clawed into Yuki’s clothed tits.

“Sensitive, baby?” Yuki cooed, thumbing over pert nipples.

Choso bit into his lower lip to muffle the embarrassing noises that threatened to spill out. His hips rocked on their own, rutting into the valley between Yuki’s thighs.

Yuki’s hands left his chest, and Choso chased her warmth.

He opened his mouth to whine, to plead, but her fingers were undoing the front buttons on her top. Shrugging off the silk, more skin than Choso had ever seen was laid bare.

Row upon row of abdominal muscles, paired with a soft, curvaceous frame– soft, plump breasts near spilling out a purple lace bra… he had gone to heaven.

Trembling fingertips traced the frilled trim, slipping down into the dip between Yuki’s breasts. Yuki giggled, musical and light, grabbing at his wrists.

“A gentleman helps a lady with her bra, Choso.”

His mind reeled.

Yuki slid his hands towards her back, letting him feel the clasp.

“Push the two straps closer together, and they should unhook.”

Trembling hands struggled, but Yuki’s whispered encouragement spurred him to keep trying.

“That’s it… doing so good for me, Cho. It’ll feel so much better like this, I promise.”

His cock twitched with interest, leaking into his dress slacks obscenely. As purple lace fell to the floor, Choso’s heart stopped beating.

Yuki Tsukumo was a beautiful woman.

Her face was elegant– soft in all the right places, defined in the others. She always looked put-together, even mid-fight or in the void of Tengen’s tomb. She was plump; slim at the waist and round in the ass, the type of woman that graced the screen of the films Yuji made him watch.

He had known this since he first saw her.

But these… fuck.

Fat, creamy breasts obscured his vision. Large blushing areolas accentuated firm nipples, perked under the attention. Yuki brought his hands back to her tits, and this time they were soft.

He was so hard it hurt.

Yuki’s breasts spilled out from between his fingers as he squeezed. Her nipples strained against his rough palms, and Yuki leaned back into the black leather of her couch.

“Just like that, Cho– fuck. Suck my tits, baby.”

A current ran through his lower half, tension building in his groin as he brought his lips to one of her breasts. His mouth watered as a nipple slipped between his lips, warm and firm. The tip of his tongue flicked out to feel, and the groan Yuki let out in response had him bucking his hips faster. The friction did little for his aching cock, but with each suck, jolts of arousal had his dick impossibly harder.

A clawed hand fisted into his hair, sharp nails dragging against the back of his skull to pull him closer.

“Fuck. Sucking so fucking good, baby– good boy.”

Whether it was the broken, gasped way she said it, the feel of his clothed cock against her legs, or the sweet tit in his mouth, Choso was gone.

Eyes rolling back into his skull, hands fisting into the fat of her tits as he cried out, Choso’s toes curled. Tears threatened to gather, eyes stinging as his pants grew uncomfortably warmer and wetter.

His rhythm grew sloppy against her plush thighs, breathing loudly through his nose as he hollowed his cheeks around the nipple.

The fingers in his hair rubbed soothing circles on his scalp, dark brown eyes falling on him with blown pupils.

“You cumming, baby?”

He felt hot all over, tense in his abdomen as his cock filled with sparks. He whimpered– a broken little noise– as it all became too much. His dick felt hot; he was hyper-aware of the scratch of his rough boxer-briefs, of her hand in his hair.

Yuki, of course, knew exactly what he needed. With experienced fingers, she unbuttoned his top, tossing it off to the side. She moved Choso to the spot on the couch beside her, freeing her legs to slip off her skirt. Bending over to put on a show, she made quick work of discarding her purple lace panties.

Choso whined, something so sweet and needy, as she fell to her knees before him.

“Shhh… Let me clean you up properly, Cho.”

“Please,” he gasped, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed as he looked down at her. 

Elegant hands made quick work of his belt, then of the button and zipper of his dress slacks. Choso sucked in a breath as Yuki’s hand slid down the front of his pants to palm at his rock hard cock.

Tacky warmth painted her palm, and Yuki was cooing.

“Came so much, baby– just for me?”

Choso’s little nod had her thighs squeezing and her cunt dripping.

With gentle fingers, she pulled out his softening cock. Choso’s seed painted purple nails in a pearly sheen, dripping between her fingers in warm rivulets.

Choso watched with rapt attention as Yuki brought her slicked hand between her legs, slender digits strung together by sticky ropes of his seed. A soft, gasped noise escaped from parted glossy lips as fingertips prodded between her legs. 

Choso’s heart clenched. He wanted to be the one between her thighs making her feel like that.

Long fingers disappeared into her core, pushing Choso’s semen inside. With her dry hand, Yuki tucked hair behind one ear, eyes locking with his. A lithe pink tongue flicked out to wet her bottom lip, and heat pooled in Choso’s core again. His cock stirred, jumping at Yuki’s mouth, and she pressed a soothing kiss to his aching tip.

“Aww– ready to go again?”

Her pink lips stretched into a catlike grin, frenulum pressed up to her lower lip. A bead of precum welled, and Yuki’s lips were on it before Choso could blink. The soft warmth of her lips, the gentle pressure, had him pressing his thighs together.

Yuki peppered slow, gentle kisses down his length, tongue flicking at his balls as she reached his base. Working her way back up, she was sloppier, open-mouthed. It took everything in Choso to not thrash.

Pretty pink lips wrapped around the aching head of his dick, flat of a hot tongue pressing and swirling against sensitive flesh. Yuki hollowed her cheeks, and the pressure shot electricity up his spine. Choso arched back against the couch as Yuki swallowed him down, easing him into her throat. Obscene noises– slurping, moaning, and panting– filled the room. Yuki worked herself between her legs, long fingers using Choso’s seed to lubricate their glide. 

“Yuki– gonna–” Choso’s voice was pitchy, breaking as he threw his head back. 

Yuki gently rolled his balls between her fingertips, humming as she bobbed her head along his length. The white of his cooling seed gathered at the corners of her lips as she worked, and fuck. Choso’s hips stuttered forward, lodging his cock deeper down her throat as his legs tensed up.

Pressure mounted deliciously in his core, heating his length unbearably. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath.

He was going to do it.

He was going to cum in her mouth.

With desperate hands, he clutched at her hair, fucking into her throat with shallow, needy thrusts.

“Yuki!”

Pop.

The blonde pulled off his length with a cheeky smile, a string of saliva connecting those sinfully glossy lips and the pulsating head of his cock.

“Not yet, Cho.”

A needy whine bubbled out of his throat, hips rutting forward against her sheened lips.

Yuki placed a firm hand on his hip, pinning him down with a click of her tongue.

“Ah ah— be good, baby. Can you be good?”

“Yuki…“

“If you do, I’ll make you feel even better. I promise.”

Reluctantly, Choso stilled. 

“Okay.”

“Good. My room. Now.”

***

Choso wasn’t even sure what time it was anymore.

Fuck, he barely remembered his name.

Yuki had brought him so close so many times. His mouth tasted distinctly like blood, lips raw from biting into them as she toyed with his body. She had wrung moan after moan out of him— brought him to the ledge, had him teetering with his thighs trembling and his core flexed. 

But she never let him cum.

Now, heaving and trembling on the bed, Yuki parted his shaking thighs. 

“Gotta get you ready. It’s gonna feel a little weird at first, okay?”

Choso’s head lolled to the side, taking slow, shallow breaths as his painful cock leaked onto his navel.

Slender fingers pried apart his asscheeks, Yuki’s face mere inches away from his most private parts.

If he were any less horny, perhaps he would have had it in him to feel embarrassed.

Now, he just wanted to— needed to— cum.

So when Yuki licked a stripe from his hole to his shaft, Choso couldn’t help but press back into her mouth. When she spat on his entrance and slurped it back off, he moaned for more. When she got out a furiously pink bottle and poured cold liquid down his crack, he laid there and took it.

He was going to be good.

He needed to be good.

For her.

Soft fingers circled his entrance, putting gentle pressure on his rim. The sensation was new— vulnerable— but it had his back arching off the bed in anticipation.

The tip of a finger breached him, shallowly fucking that cool gel inside. He hissed, and Yuki stilled, pressing a kiss to a freckle on his left hip.

“Are you okay, baby?”

“Hurts,” he whimpered, hand snaking down from his pillow to paw at his dick.

“Choso.”

The sharp tone had his hand stilling and his eyes rolling back. Inside, that finger hooked up against a spot that had his legs clamping shut.

“No touching, baby. Let me.”

Soft hands pushed his legs back open by the knees. His own hand retracted to the pillow, fisting in the silk case as Yuki’s finger slipped out, only to push back in and prod that spot again.

His mouth fell open, drool gathering on the inside of his cheek as his eyes squeezed shut. For the nth time that night, he was getting close. He tried not to think about it, tried not to feel it; he wouldn’t be finishing anyways.

“Yu… ki…”

“Getting close again, baby?”

Choso didn’t even bother answering. She knew. She always knew. 

His cock jumped against his tummy, leaking out wasteful beads of precum— lubing up his insides for something that would never come.

Yuki’s finger slid in deeper, fucking him to the knuckle before she pressed a second fingertip to his rim. Dark brown eyes gazed up from between parted thighs, a sinful tongue lapping at her puffy lower lip.

“Have to get you real soft for the strap.”

A second finger breached his hole, the sting a slow buzz that spread up to his back. Two fingertips bullied the tender spot inside him, and his eyes rolled back into his skull. Choso pressed his hips back into the digits, and fuck.

Taking them to the hilt had his body alight.

Before he could process, he was cumming— ropes and ropes of thick white semen soiling his soft pecs and flat tummy, dripping into the divot of his belly button. 

Yuki took advantage of this pliant state to stretch him open, fucking him through his orgasm on two, then three, fingers.

When she was satisfied, she was flipping him— Choso, in his post-orgasm haze, could only moan as his sensitive, too-wet cock made contact with the cool sheets.

Yuki disappeared off behind him, rustling in drawers and boxes he couldn’t muster the energy to look back upon.

As the bed creaked under her returning weight, Yuki couldn’t help but admire the man beneath her.

From behind, Choso was so beautiful. Fit and pale, he was a painting. 

She pulled him back by his sides, dragging his ass up to present properly for her. Yuki’s purple shellacked nails dug into the fat of his hips, softly accentuated by the arch of his back. 

A long, thick purple strap glistened prettily as she smeared cherry lubricant on it, taking in the way Choso’s slicked hole was clenching around nothing.

“Open wide for me, baby…”

With a guiding hand, Yuki’s strap breached his rosy hole. Watching it stretch around her girth was intoxicating; the soft groan of the bed matched the pretty noise that escaped Choso, and just like that, Yuki Tsukumo was addicted.

She chose a forgiving pace at first— shallow fucking with just the tip, hands kneading Choso’s love handles and the plush of his ass.

He was so flushed, so pliant, moaning under her. He drooled onto her white silk-clad pillow, doe eyes glassy and distant as he took her in deeper. 

He was a doll, still and obedient, opening up so nice on her cock. Yuki leaned over, pressing a kiss to his neck, then shoulder, chaste. The angle had her slipping in a little deeper, and soon, Choso was taking her to the hilt.

“How’s that feel, baby? Sucking me in so well.”

Choso moaned wantonly, thighs parted and shaking a little. His lower lip, spit-slicked and reddened, quivered. 

“Use your words.”

Yuki pulled back, splaying a hand on the small of his back as she drove in more forcefully, determined to fuck an answer out of him. With each thrust, her hips mashed into the soft flesh of his ass; the jiggle was hypnotizing.

Choso cried out as she put pressure on his prostate once again, glassy eyes welling with need. The dark spot on Yuki’s pillow grew, a heady mix of saliva, tears, and desire.

“Need to cum… need you– need…” he was babbling. It was wet, hiccuped, gritted out from a clearly sore throat.

“Cum on me, baby. Cum on my cock.” 

Choso’s pliant hole tightened, clenching rhythmically on the base of her strap. Short-nailed hands fisted the pillow next to his face, and Choso bit down on his knuckles to muffle his whimpers.

Yuki reached a hand around his smooth chest, pinching and pulling at a rosy nipple.

He was gone.

With a cry, he was spurting; gushing out his seed onto the sheets, humping the air uselessly as he met his release.

Yuki stilled deep inside, letting him bear down on her to ride out his pleasure, eyes rolling back under dark brows.

“Good boy, Cho. Let it all out for me.”

He whined, a small broken noise, as he spurted out the last dregs of his seed. His abused cock jumped in the air as a sinful string of semen connected his purplish tip to the bed.

As the last of his strength waned, Choso collapsed into the mattress, landing on his fresh puddle of cum.

“Let’s go clean you up.” Yuki leaned over him, gently pulling out before placing a kiss on his shoulder blade.

“Not… done.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m not done.”

When Choso looked back at her, Yuki Tsukumo realized her mistake.

This wasn’t a man she had brought home.

This was a curse.

One who did not leave bad sorcerers unpunished.

***

Yuki Tsukumo liked rough things.

That included her men.

Not only did she like them rough— she liked it rough as well.

But this?

Choso had her bent like a pretzel. 

Her ankles dangled by his ears, purple-nailed toes curled impossibly tight. Her thighs were red and angry under strong hands, pushing them wide against her chest. Her tits— bitten and spit-slicked— bounced with each unrelenting thrust into her core, and fuck. 

She could see the outline of his cock as he drove into her.

Choso was an animal.

Dark bangs obscured his face, sweat-sheened and dripping. Dark eyes pinned Yuki down, honed in on where he was disappearing into her, or on the tantalizing sway of her breasts. His abdomen clenched and unclenched as he held her down with his big frame, folding her right in half to fuck in as deep as he needed.

He wanted to feel her womb.

Despite the rough handling— the sharp smacks of his tight balls against her plush ass— the noises he made were beautifully soft. Little grunts and groans, soft hisses when a jolt of pleasure shot up his spine; it was symphonic. Yuki’s mind reeled as he pressed those sinful sounds against her neck and jaw.

Choso’s hands fell from her thighs to her ass, lifting Yuki’s lower half up onto his cock like a toy. Her cunt, hot and dripping, was melting his dick off. He couldn’t get enough.

“Cho… so…”

He grunted in response, nosing at the column of her throat.

“Gonna— don’t stop.”

He didn’t plan on it. Not until she was bloated. Not until she was round and heavy with his seed, until she was glowing with it.

He licked a stripe along her neck, following the trail of a stray bead of sweat. She was salty, tangy— perfect on his tongue. 

Pearly white canines latched onto Choso’s shoulder and bore down. Yuki groaned into his skin, pussy squeezing tight around his shaft as she reached her peak.

The flutter of her orgasm— the moans muffled into his flesh— had Choso seeing stars.

Fuck.

He had wanted to hold on, but the tingling in his shaft, the jolts of pleasure to his tip, were not going to let him hold on for much longer.

“Inside. Has to be inside. Yuki— please.” He growled into her neck as she cried into his collarbone, pulse fluttering against her tongue and lips.

She dropped her legs, but before Choso could protest, those pretty ankles were locking behind his back, heels digging into his ass to drag him deeper.

Yuki’s pliant pussy sucked him right in, tip meeting the gummy resistance of her cervix deep inside. Choso’s brain was working overtime, instincts raring to fuck right past her barrier and finish in her womb.

But he couldn’t hold it any longer.

As soon as those legs squeezed around him, and purple nails met his back, Choso was cumming so hard he couldn’t see.

His head clouded over as white painted the insides of Yuki’s pretty pink pussy, seed gushing out against her cervix. She was so full of cock and sperm, and each shallow thrust had Choso’s release dripping out around his shaft.

He couldn’t have that.

“Have to keep it in.“ He was babbling, mouth running before his mind could catch up.

“Choso?”

“Have to hold it in so it can— can take,“ he grunted, nails clawing into the softness of her ass.

“Baby—“

“Fuck. Gonna have to fill you up again. Not enough.”

Big hands flipped Yuki onto her side, and Choso was driving right back in.

Gone was the malleable man with the pretty tears and soft voice— this was Choso Kamo, the eldest of the death painting wombs.

From the looks of it, he was going to make sure she never forgot that.

***

Morning broke early, a stunning show of rose and violet, bathing Yuki’s sleeping form in soft golden light.

Choso had never felt so much.

Twirling tawny strands with gentle fingers, his heart was on the brink of bursting.

The woman before him slept soundly, covered in the purple marks of his love. He had cried, when he came-to, over how much he had marked her— until she did it right back to him.

They matched.

He cleaned her with his tongue– then again in the bath– with unmatched reverence as she drifted in and out of a sound sleep. Each time she stirred, it was to play with his hair or coo at him. Choso had never felt warmer.

She held him in her arms so gently as she fell asleep for good. He hadn’t felt so safe, so loved, in a long time.

He knew it then; he wanted Yuki to be there for all his firsts.

In this life, and the next.

Banners by @roseschoices!

[character-fan19]

So I calculated the exact screen time of all the love square ships in season 1

Yeah, it's exactly what it says. With 99% accuracy I went through all the episodes of season 1, calculated the exact screen time of ever love square ship in every episode, added them all up and made charts to compare them.

But first of all, where did I get the idea to do this? Well, I was looking through Tumblr and I so a post by someone called purrincess-chat answering an ask about Adrienette in Season 5 and in her reply she mentioned how Ladynoir and Adrien have around the same screen time in seasons 1-4 with Ladynoir having slightly more and that is simply reversed in season 5 with some Maricat and Ladrien sprinkled here and there. So that made me wonder: how much really is the distribution of screen time between the love square ships? So I did this, starting with season 1. But before we get into the results...

Some Ground Rules

What does and doesn't count as screen time for a particular ship? Here are the rules I laid out:

Both characters of the ship must be present in the scene for it to count. That's means no scenes of Marinette fawning over ads and pictures of Adrien or Adrien swooning over the fact that the love letter he found in "Dark Cupid" might be from Ladybug.

At least one of characters of the ship must be reacting to the presence of the other character for it to count or at least doing something together. We can't have Maribug and Adricat both just doing their own separate thing acting like background characters and call that shipping content.

If one or both of the characters believe that there are speaking with the alter ego of the other character, then it counts as screen time for that ship. Meaning when Ladybug goes to check on Adrien in "Volpina" and Cat Noir pretends to be his civilian self taking a shower, it counts as Ladrien screen time, not Ladynoir.

Now that that's dealt with let's get into the distribution.

Screen Time Distribution

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Ladynoir dominated season 1, having 76% of the total love square screen time. Makes sense, right? There's an akuma every episode so there's Ladynoir ever episode and since this is season 1, it's more focused on the strict formula rather than some actual development between the other ships.

Coming in a definitely-not-close second is Adrienette with 18.5% of the total love square screen time. No surprises here. Adrienette along with Ladynoir are the main 2 ships while Maricat and Ladrien are simply the side ships. Plus, it's not often for just one of them to be transformed.

Speaking of which, Maricat and Ladrien come in 3rd and 4th with 3% and 2.5% of the total love square screen time respectively and pretty close to each other, Maricat having a slight edge over Ladrien.

Now let's see the trend across the episodes.

Screen Time Trend

For the most part, Ladynoir is on a completely different level than the other ships, only temporarily being dethroned for one episode- that episode being "Gamer"- by Adrienette which was the episode they both practiced for the Ultimate Mecha Strike Tournament and we got some Adrienette bonding with Marinette giving Adrien her lucky charm bracelet. Other than that, it's been on top the whole time, with there even being episodes with solely Ladynoir screen time and having an average of 4 min 22 sec of screen time per episode, with most screen time being in "Animan" (8 min 28 sec) and least being in "Pixelator" (1 min 3 sec) a.k.a the episode where Adrien was stuck in the titular villain's prison dimension for most of the episode. It mellowed down a little towards the end of the season due to there being more plot relevant stuff in those episodes than akuma battle but picked itself right back up for the finale.

Adrienette stayed fairly low in screen time and having screen time in most episodes having a huge spike in the episodes "Kung Food" to "Animan", even temporarily dethroning Ladynoir like I mentioned before with 6 min 28 sec of screen time.

Finally, Maricat and Ladrien had a few small to moderate spikes here and there with some even being two episodes in a row and Ladrien having most of it's screen time towards the end of season 1.

Conclusion

Yeah, so that's it. I'm going to be doing these after I complete every season so keep a look out.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

So we have Yuu’s pseudo-parents(Crewel and the fab five) having insane lore, but what about Yuu herself having quite the backstory before she even got transmigrated to Twisted Wonderland. We love to see a seemingly innocent girl actually being involved in the wildest incidents a kid has ever gone through.

Yuu drinking too much energy drinks one time to stay awake for an exam only discover that she made it halfway to school on foot (she lived an hour away from school by bus).

These are just some examples off the top off my head.

Yuu starting a revolution about the dumb dress code in her old school that resulted in her classmates tying up the principal in his chair and a statue getting toppled over

Yuu accidentally falling out of a ferris wheel, but somehow surviving.

Yuu having a secret sibling somewhere who she secretly writes letters to.

Yuu accidentally blowing up a bridge for a science experiment.

Yuu and her friends being chased by maniac at night.

And finally…

“Yeah, I guess that happens to you when you use dragon meat to resurrect your best friend”

Hades is like, “You WHAT?!”

Someone else is like, “I thought she can’t use magic.”

The best part is that nobody can tell if she’s lying because they’re either in denial believe that Yuu wouldn’t lie about something like that. She tells her stories with the utmost sincerity and casualness. Not even Maleficent or Chernabog can detect any lies, so it must be true.

Idk I just love the idea of Yuu being a wild child when she was younger then mellowing out enough with her experience to boot just so she has the fortitude to handle even more wild children at NRC.

OH MY GOD YES THAT WOULD BE AWESOME!

Like the kids could be trapped somewhere and Yuu would be like "Don't worry guys, I've broken out of prison before so this should be a piece of-"

"YOU WHAT?!"

Or, alternatively:

Yuu: This reminds me of that time I was in jail

Mickey: You mean like in Monopoly, right?

Yuu:

Mickey: (sweating) you mean like in Monopoly, right???

I bet Pete would think twice about messing with the club when chaotic!Yuu is around because his schemes always bite him in the back. Twofold.

In fact, all villains know that Yuu is not someone you want to mess with. I know that girl always has makeshift weapons on her. And a very comprehensive/convoluted plan on how to commit murder and hide the body (+ as well as any alibis) with like fifty back up plans and a few dozen contingency plans for those back up plans.

She and the scientist characters like the BH6 gang, Jumba, Yzma, Prof Von Drake etc are always off causing trouble so there's a rule in the club (that Yuu always breaks anyway) that she's not allowed to be left alone with them

I can see her helping one of the magical characters with a spell or whatever and her nodding along like "yeah, I got this. So which animal are we sacrificing?”

"what?"

"what?"

I can see her wanting to test out different potions but Crewel and the fab five are stopping her and she's like "but I've drank poison before :( it's really no big deal :("

Oh you bet that there are like ten places her and her friends are banned from back in her world

Hades is so done with everything because he's just gotten used to this magicless mortal girl that trespasses into the underworld because Pain and Panic wanted to play just dance with her

So I'm into Epic the musical and now I'm just thinking about *SPOILERS FOR THE VENGEANCE SAGA* Yuu just casually dropping that one time she stabbed an immortal being into compliance as the entire club just stares at her in awe/horror.

The Fab Five whenever chaotic!Yuu is being chaotic:

Thanks for the ask ♡

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Sister Ray In The 70s

Something special to close out the year — SISTER RAY IN THE 70s! This custom-made Doom & Gloom compilation gathers together a whole lot of "Sister Ray," as performed by Lou Reed and his various bands between 1972 and 1980. One hour, 47 minutes. More ding-dongs than Hostess. Would make a great quadruple LP bootleg, if you ask me.

Everyone’s favorite transgressive-in-many-more-ways-than-one Velvet Underground epic wasn't exactly a standard during this time. But when Lou wanted to let everyone (including himself) off the leash for a bit, he'd break "Sister Ray" out as a vehicle for some unholy/unhinged jams/vamps/raveups ... and judging by what we've got here, he really enjoyed doing so. This is gnarly stuff, shameless, harrowing and totally fun. Not for the faint of heart — but none of you are faint of heart, right?!

"Sister Ray" (Leicester University, Oct. 14, 1972)

A roar rises up from the crowd when Lou announces: "This is the sad, sad story of Sister Ray." With the Tots grooving behind him, it starts off in a mellow mode — which is good, because it allows Lou to really sing, making sure to annunciate every nasty lyric. Soon, everyone’s cooking (for the down five).

"Sister Ray" (Kansas City, May 2, 1973)

The short-lived Moogy Klingman-led lineup gives "Sister Ray" a cartoony, streetwalking funk strut, hooting and hollering behind Lou. Extra props to the drummer (known only as Chocolate), who taps out the appropriate beat during the "Who is that knocking?" section. "RIGHT!!!!" Lou exclaims approvingly.

"Sister Ray" (Buffalo, Dec. 8, 1973)

As far as I know, this is the only recording of the Rock & Roll Animal band tackling "Sister Ray," but it's a 20+-minute doozy. Of course, it takes about 10 minutes for Lou to enter the scene — lord only knows what he was getting up to backstage. Despite a wonky mix that occasionally is overtaken by pummeling drums and bass, it's a vicious listen. I like that it all comes to a pretty definitive conclusion before Lou realizes he hasn't sung the concluding verse and revs things for a final ride ride.

"Sister Ray" (Stockholm, May 14, 1974)

This one starts at a blinding white light/white heat pace, everyone riding a locked-groove riff for as long as they can. Guitarist Danny Weis is off the chain here, reveling in both chicken scratch funk and insane feedback. Lou's tambourine accents make me think of On The Corner's infernal sleigh bells, and his "CooooouLLLLDDDNnnnnt hiiiiIIIIIIIIITTTTTttttt iiiIIIIITTTTTtttttt siiiiiIIIIIIIIIdewaaaaaayyyys" vocalizations towards the end are wicked.

"Sister Ray" (Boston, October 29, 1976)

Lou had Doug Yule, an actual member of the Velvet Underground, in his band in 1975, but for some reason, "Sister Ray" wasn't played that year. But she was back in action in '76 — and in Boston, we get to hear a key "Ray" ingredient we haven't heard much of so far: Lou's skronked out guitar work. It's as if he walked past the old Boston Tea Party on the Fenway that afternoon and thought, "Ohhhh yeah, I used to really shred!" And shred he does, dueling mightily and furiously with sax man Marty Fogel. I'll also recommend this video of "Sister Ray" from a week later, which doesn't feature any six-string pyrotechnics but is awesome nonetheless.

"Sister Ray" (Lund, March 26, 1977)

With Michael Fonfara's icy electric keys mixed way up and Michael Suchorsky's locked-in drums, this almost sounds more like "Kicks" than "Sister Ray." I think that's Lou on distorto guitar there at the beginning, but he mainly focuses on delivering his whiplash vocals as the song progresses. Fogel starts to get pretty loose towards the middle, though I wish he'd cut loose even more — and I definitely wish there was a tape of Don Cherry sitting in on "Sister Ray" from around this era! The car crash ending is a blast, too.

"Sister Ray" (New York City, May 21, 1978)

"Sister Ray" takes no prisoners! This one from one of the many Bottom Line sets Lou and the Everyman Band played in 1978 is a tense slow-burner, sometimes dropping down to a whisper, Lou adding profane/profound asides and stopping to tell an old Warhol story. "Andy said, 'Make sure you do the song that's got suckin' on my ding-dong on it.' I said, 'Oh, why? Social commentary?'" Also fun: the band seems to be having a long disagreement about where the changes of this three-chord boogie are. Come on, Moose! (Sadly, this is one of the more lo-fi documents included here — where, oh where, is my Take No Prisoners: The Complete Recordings boxed set?!)

"Sister Ray" (London, April 10, 1979)

One of the weirder "Sister Ray"s I've come across — though that might be partly the fault of the cavernous acoustics we're dealing with. There's a long solo guitar extravaganza (Chuck Hammer, I presume?) to kick things off, and then a monomaniacal/mechanical beat from Suchorsky, the crowd clapping along, Lou hollering over the top; it almost has a Suicide vibe? Then there's a terrifying drone-metal dirge coda ... Chaos! But that's what "Sister Ray" is all about, right?

"Sister Ray" (Avellino, June 16, 1980)

Lou's insane 1970s had ended and the sober 1980s loomed (Loum-ed?) before him. But he wasn't done with "Sister Ray." Or maybe "Sister Ray" wasn't done with him. Fittingly, this version feels a little bit exhausted, some flop-sweat, some out-of-gas fumes. "Give me some rhythm — FUCK!" Lou yells at the gang early on. But it still rocks, don't worry. My favorite part is Fonfara's wildly inappropriate synth solo. Mainline located!

📷: Lars Jonsson, Copenhagen May 1974 (via weaponsetc)

[treason-and-plot]

Forty minutes later Mia has had one glass of champagne and two Bellinis and is sipping her third, the edges of the room rippling with the music from the DJ’s booth in the adjoining room, a soft, peach-coloured veil drifting lazily across her vision. Belllinis always make her feel mellow and mushy and horny as fuck, like her insides are all warm and melting and she needs something big and hard shoved in there real quick before she dissolves into a puddle. Jackie and Milo are having a light-hearted argument about what they are going to do tomorrow.  Mia squeezes her thighs together and takes a noisy slurp from her glass. Kaleb shoots her a glance, one eyebrow raised.

“Are you okay?” he says coolly.

“Oh, I’m just peachy,” she giggles. “Peachy, geddit? 'Cos I’m drinking Bellinis? Okay. Never mind. I’ll see myself out.“

“The whole reason you hired Madison was so you didn’t have to work weekends,” Jackie says to Milo. “At least that’s what you told me.”

“I still have to lock up,” he says. “I can’t expect her to do everything.”

“Why not? You’re paying her enough.”

“I think that had better be your last one,” Kaleb says to Mia as she half-smothers a burp.

“Oh, fuck off,” she says.   

“Watch your language. People are looking.” he says, his mouth barely moving.

“Yeah, because I’m so fucking hot, Kaleb,” she says. He presses his lips together and reaches for his champagne glass. The DJ next door is playing one of Mia’s favourite songs. “Kaleb!” she says. “Let’s dance!”

But he’s sulking and shakes his head.

“Suit yourself.  What about you, Milo?” Mia says.

“What about me?” says Jackie before Milo can respond.

“Are you sure you’re allowed?” says Mia.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” says Jackie.  

“Be careful,” says Milo.

“Milo, I’m not kayaking down Simagra Falls, for God’s sake,” she says.

“Why are the men in our lives so aggravating?” she shouts at Mia on the dancefloor. It’s only 9.30 and there’s hardly anyone here, but neither of them care, Mia feeling happy and weightless, floating on her Bellini cloud.

“Oh, Milo’s fine. You know he’s one of the good ones,” she says to Jackie.  

“Yeah, but he’s still aggravating."

“Nowhere near as aggravating as Kaleb,” says Mia. "Oh my God. He's turned it into an art form."

“I have to say, I kind of noticed a few red flags tonight,” says Jackie.

“Look, I know he’s problematic,” says Mia. “But whatever.  The truth is, the sex is so good I don’t really care.”

“Oh, Mia,” says Jackie, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation.

“What can I say?” says Mia. “Good dick is a prison, right?”

[sangahnomiya]

hm..... AU where instead of being given a house to live in after her time as an archon, Furina willingly volunteers to be incarcerated and sent to the Fortress of Meropide for her crimes of deceiving the people of Fontaine...

this came about because I've been thinking a lot of the valid critiques of Fontaine's class system is largely unexplored in the archon quests, and also a lot about how Furina actually showed initial promise of being a decent leader but was forced to give it up for her "idol" persona, in order to fulfill her role as deceiver. and okay fine, maybe I have been enjoying the concept of wriofuri a lot recently (whether platonic or romantic!) I think Furina could stand to learn a lot from Wrio's leadership in the meropide while Wrio would slowly learn to see the true heart behind the persona he's known all his life. I just want them to have tea parties together okay

overall I think Wrio's depth as a character is largely unexplored in favour of the alpha yandere dom daddy depiction I see of him most often— but personally, I think he's one of the most level-headed characters in the whole game and the least likely character to be a yandere JSJJSF. I'm not super into his lore but while playing his quest + the archon quests, I remember really appreciating that he ran the Meropide in such a way that it allowed the prisoners to retain their sense of dignity and humanity while also enforcing rules for their safety and according to the law.

admittedly I have been genshin burnt out lately, but I'm very interested in writing this AU! I think if I were to write this, I'd want to touch on the class system and portray Furina's growth into a more grounded, mellow version of herself as she witnesses firsthand the impact of her (and also Neuvillette's, but more on that for another time) insufficient leadership. I believe that this would be a fic best suited for focusing on Furina's character develop, so it'd probably not be as ship-focused as my usual work. but I think I'd sprinkle in little hints of nvfr and wriofuri, as a little treat <3

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Sword gays showdown, round 1, bracket two

Propaganda:

For Kiku:

She is almost 10 feet/3 meters tall and is a gorgeous trans woman and samurai, who is very loyal to her allies. She gets recognized as strong by the main character multiple times and proves it by being one of the most resilient badasses in the entire series. Helps break said main character out of the enemy's prison and takes part in a rebellion against the corrupt prison staff. She stands up to a tyrant who enslaved her country, said tyrant can also turn into a giant dragon. When the highest ranked sumo in the area is abusing class privilege and harassing both the townsfolks and her, she cuts his top knot off in public, effectively ending his career. Then after cutting the sumo's not knot, she uses her great acting skills to win the crowd to her side by playing the innocent maiden and being all "oh, no, what have I done?" (She knew exactly what she did >:) After her country is free, she also gets to enjoy being girly and mellow once everyone is able to relax, and everyone respects that side of her too. All of this at just 22 years of age, what a cool lady

She's a samurai who's great with a sword and she's also trans.

She is cannonically trans and is a very cool swordswoman!

Trans samurai!! Kenshi is gender neutral, but this is a swordsWOMAN

One of the most powerful samurai in her country, also a trans icon.

She’s canonically trans and awesome and pretty and she’s so tall! 🏳️‍⚧️

For Luo Binghe:

This boy not just studied the blade, he learned the blade FROM HIS CRUSH. And not only that but he actually has tons of symbolism around BOTH of the swords he wields over the course of the novel. His childhood sword gets broken when he's about to be thrown into his corruption arc, but the pieces are carefully preserved by his crush, and later he rebuilds the sword in question. Once he is fully freed from corrupting influence of his other sword, he uses this one again! It represents his inner goodness that gets broken, but is never really gone. The other is a cursed sword representing toxic masculinity that corrupts his mind and pushes him to harm himself and others. It gets destroyed in the end thru the power of gay love!

His sword is first broken symbolizing his trauma and loss of innocence when he is kicked into hell. Then his other sword, Xin Mo, which he finds in hell, represents toxic masculinity and he breaks it at the climax of the novel. It can also dimension travel and is evil.

Binghe has two different songs in this book and a complicated relationship with both of them. First there is Zhen Yang which breaks at a dramatic moment and is mourned over by his teacher/love interest "like a grieving widow". And then there's Xin Mo! His "golden finger". The most ridiculously overpowered sword in the world, it can even cut rifts in the fabric of the world. It also runs on sex and violence and drives him to madness which can only be cured by the aforementioned love interest sacrificing himself... or by sex!

[buttercuparry]

If your take on many of the characters in the asoiaf series is based on the metaphor of toilet cleaning, with a few jabs thrown in that does nothing but reinforce the same lame ass take that you and your fellow people in the fandom circle agree on, then that in fact is no more clever than a brick resting on a dirt mound.

Now this is a funny post I guess. A clever post, OP thinks for sure. They preface it by saying that the best metric to judge someone is by finding out how, they feel about toilet cleaning. And of course, they say, since Asoiaf is about a bunch of noble borns, their aversion to toilet cleaning shines through in immaculate detail. The few exceptions out of those nobles are included in op's post, but the final conclusion is that all but one of them is normal about toilet cleaning.

And I absolutely have no qualms with Op's conclusion. To each their own after all. But since, in their very own style, the post has the same old flavour of insinuating that Arya Stark only plays at being disadvantaged after Ned Stark's death, I felt like I should impart some more flavour to balance it out.

As we see in the above excerpt of Op's toilet cleaning adventures, it is implied that the problem Arya has is with the toilet cleaning in itself. For those who are still confused, the metaphor of toilet cleaning references the manual labor that goes in running a castle- scrubbing floors, fetching water, delivering messages etc. So the way of life a lowborn is forced to live in Westeros. I can't help but see how even when op uses the word "slave" in reference to Arya's position in Harrenhal, it never really got translated in their understanding of what slavery means. Being a slave/prisoner of war in Harrenhal meant that this wasn't an employment. This was the complete ownership of Arya by those who instructed her and thus by those, who had the command of the castle. Pretty sure that slavery which has been the running theme of Grrm's books is said to be unbearable even when the slave is wearing the golden collar in place of chains (remember Daenerys?). In my understanding, Arya hates herself and everyone involved less for the toilet cleaning and more for the fact that this toilet cleaning is forced on every single prisoner of war, and they can't say no because saying no leads to death. Like pretty sure she witnessed a girl getting raped every night and when the girl finally said no by attacking her rapist, she was promptly cut down. I also have this passage that details what led up to Arya's toilet cleaning slavery at Harrenhal. Let's have a look shall we?

Their captors permitted no chatter. A broken lip taught Arya to hold her tongue. Others never learned at all. One boy of three would not stop calling for his father, so they smashed his face in with a spiked mace. Then the boy's mother started screaming and Raff the Sweetling killed her as well.

Arya watched them die and did nothing. What good did it do you to be brave? One of the women picked for questioning had tried to be brave, but she had died screaming like all the rest. There were no brave people on that march, only scared and hungry ones. Most were women and children. The few men were very old or very young; the rest had been chained to that gibbet and left for the wolves and the crows. Gendry was only spared because he'd admitted to forging the horned helm himself; smiths, even apprentice smiths, were too valuable to kill.

They were being taken to serve Lord Tywin Lannister at Harrenhal, the Mountain told them. "You're traitors and rebels, so thank your gods that Lord Tywin's giving you this chance. It's more than you'd get from the outlaws. Obey, serve, and live

Obey, serve and live. That's the toilet cleaning op of the excerpt references to. And then there comes the topic of Arya mellowing out to the toilet cleaning (slavery) after her very own "murder-by-proxy spree". Now I don't mean to assume, but it feels like op has gone down the same drain of Arya the murder baby trope, where it is believed that murdering people is just another way for Arya Stark to decompress after a stressful week at work. When a slave is forced to slavery, and gets the means by which they can attack the slaver to strike down their chains- I am pretty sure it is natural that they would feel some type of way about it. They would feel that now they have some control and is no more the toilet cleaning mouse. The regaining of agency is the difference between the mouse and the wolf. It is less about toilet cleaning and more about agency since, Arya "the once toilet cleaning mouse" seemed to voluntarily want to be a part of the crew onboard of a ship. Now idk much about sailing, but this I can say, being on a ship earning your keep involves a looooot of toilet cleaning for sure.

I have no more energy to dissect the last throwaway statement but I am happy it is finally being recognized that the death cult is truly a way to cope, when half of your family is dead and you can't do anything about it because the people in power have caused that death. Hopefully it would soon translate into seeing the list as a coping mechanism too and no more bullshit about being a mindless murder baby

[wawamouse]

Oz Rewatch 3: S6E06: A Day in the Death…

Storylines:

Dino guest narrates

Beecher is back in Oz and angry with Keller; Schillinger offers to befriend Keller now that they’re both at odds with Beecher

Rebadow tries to talk to Stella about cold shouldering her but she wants distance

Idzik is transferred to Em City; Omar is made Idzik’s sponsor

Glynn continues the investigation into Adrian Johnson; Willy Brandt turns up dead;

Robson meets with Sister Pete; Robson joins group therapy

Chico and Miguel talks about Morales and the future of El Norte; Cathy Jo Cutler visits Miguel; Morales’s funeral; McManus offers to set up a meeting between Miguel and Ruiz

Martinez’s autopsy shows he was murdered; Carol Grace is interrogated and arrested

Telemarketing continues to suffer; Burr tries to recruit prisoners; Arif is struggling with finances; Poet and Rawls try to get back into the tits trade; Samuel Gouegeon crime flashback; Burr is sent to destroy the printing press;

Gloria proposes Cyril be executed by electric chair rather than lethal injection; Cyril gets a haircut in preparation of the execution; Jahfree Neema organises a demonstration of solidarity by the Em City inmates during the time of Cyril’s execution; Cyril gets a stay on his execution

Sister: Have we met this guy before? Me: Yeah, that’s Dino. Guy who died in the very first episode? Sister: Uhm….. Me: He was set up like a main character and then he was set on fire at the end of the episode? Sister: I don’t remember that. I only remember um… Jefferson.

Sister: And that’s why he decided to kill someone?

Sister: hey trying to shove a romance in here last second? With the nazi wife?

Sister: I don’t get it. He could just tell and get the insurance anyway, couldn’t he? It’s not like he conspired to burn down the machinery. (Sigh) This is why he’s in prison.

Sister: How did he get everyone to do what he says she he’s been nothing but rude to them?

Sister: They have to wet his head? For conduction? Me: Yeah. Haven’t you seen the Green Mile? Sister: Nope. Me: What? The Green Mile? Yes you have. Pretty sure we watched it together. Sister: Nope. The black guy? Me: With Tom Hanks? Sister: Nope. What's the one where the dude threatens the guards and they get coke? Me: Shawshank Redemption?! Sister: Yeah, I haven't seen that one either. Or Saving Private Ryan. And I'm pretty sure we had Saving Private Ryan at home. Me: We have the Green Mile, too!

Sister: Wawa lied to me… Me: How did I lie? Sister: You made it sound like he died.

Me: Must suck to be Li Chen’s parents sitting there and everyone including the staff is really happy the guy who killed your son won’t be executed. Like, if you believe in the death penalty. Sister: Yeah, they're like screw them, LOL.

Sister’s Predictions for the final two episode/what she would like to happen:

Tobias isn’t getting released unless he gets more family members killed, but he ain’t got that many left.

Cyril will get sent to the mental institute and Ryan will probably mellow out if he’s smart and learns to reflect and be grateful. Or he’ll just keep being a dick. Or maybe O’Reily will stop showing up now that his storyline is done and then we can finally have time to focus on other people’s stories. I mean, what do we have left? Two hours? We got a lot to get done. But I feel like he’s a fan favorite because they do so much crap with him, there’s no way they’re going to just shove him aside. Even if he’s in the background, he’s gonna be, like, standing there. And there’s the stuff with his mom and the other dude. He’s probably going to bless their relationship or whatever and say he understands now.

Redding’s probably going to die because he’s not doing anything else so far. But if the show wants to end with a sense of calm, then Redding’s probably going to survive, or Poet and the other guy will die because they’re already getting messed with.

Miguel will become leader… Or maybe Chico will become leader, if he finds the leadership balls. Someone will come up to him and be like “who’s leader” and he’ll be like “oh, let me go ask Miguel”, which is like HUH? But if he had the leadership balls, he would just be like “Oh, I am!” …There’s only two options with the Latinos. Some random person? I don’t think so.

Keller will die if the show wants to end things on a calm note, but if they want to end things chaotically, he will kill someone and become leader of the white supremacists maybe.

Depending on how much time is allotted to other stories, Idzik will die as a casualty by someone else’s hand and he’ll die as he wanted, and Mr Dinosaur (Omar) won’t get in trouble.

The Muslims need to find a strong leader… The current guy isn’t leadership material so he’ll probably get overthrown.

Lord of the Rings type ending after the ending in the last episode where we do a tour of all the groups and staff with like Mukada and Sister Pete where it seemingly never finishes. The old people (Rebadow and Stella) are probably going to be part of the Lord of the Rings ending. Maybe they’ll do a little wink and wave with the Gays, if they’re really wanting to hit all the groups and give some representation before the show ends. Each group has about…. [some strange Sister math later] 10 minutes and 54 seconds of screen time in the next two episodes.

Next episode will be the action finale and then episode 8 will be a bunch of fall out and resolution so they can give the show a nice ending. Unless they really didn’t know the show would end.

[archivalofsins]

Sometimes I want to be the biggest fucking hater alive then I remember Not Like Us exists as a song and mellow out a small bit. Then I think damn the Milgram casts songs are all fucking diss tracks aren't they. Like we call out Kotoko because she talked about characters we feel like we know personally in Deep Cover but like every prisoners song is talking shit about someone else. Like quite directly.

Mahiru starts off implying that the person she killed just doesn't know what love is. Yuno fucking trash talks one of her clients and the audience through all of Tear Drop. Futa and Kotoko both imply that people just don't know what morals are, how to take accountability for themselves, or what real justice is. Mikoto fucking goes from if you don't tell me I'm right I'm kicking your ass to following through on that threat by jumping Kotoko during the first trial intermission someone parading around saying they work for Es when she wasn't even attacking him. Man went, okay I can't get them well I'll get their associate, "You work for Es bet.". Kazui is like woe is me why won't this picky bitch have a change of heart why did she create this distance that's misleading me throughout all of Half.

Shidou is pretty much like well it's these people's fault for needing help they're the reason I'm doing this- I did what I had to and I can't stop myself from doing what needs to be done now either. So, I want you to end this for me. Haruka is like well if you were nicer to me, then this wouldn't have happened- Why did you change? Amane is like yeah I was wrong but everyone fucks up sometimes let's just laugh about it and move on- Then when told no she's just goes alright fuck you die.

Like legitimate hater energy throughout- Yet people are still able to see that they are remorseful and to an extent regret their actions. Which yeah true but every person here is petty as fuck, actually. They didn't come on the mic with I'm so sorry for what I did they came in with multiple justifications for what they did except for Amane she like did start by admitting she messed up and never defended it in either song she just kind of went I did that shit before even Mu did.

Like her entire first song is like yeah I'm gonna mess up sometimes, but I can only become better. This isn't even me being biased. I would love it if Amane was more petty, but that's actually just where she started. Yuno started there too saying she messed up and found out but like immediately upon having all of her agency in the situation ignored went alright fuck you people too- You all think you're soooo smart, huh.

It's really impressive how reactionary they all are and how it looks in hindsight.

[mecchantheotaku]

In a physical state to think right now (let's see how long that lasts) so I wanted to give some random thoughts on the Princesses because I haven't really given too many of those yet

I never understood common fandom portrayals of the Prisoner. She's not actually that much like the Ch1 "harsh" Princess at all, really. She's much more stoic, in the sense of "keeping her feelings hidden". She only shows her feelings when you either prove her hopes right or scare her into self-defense.

Something I'd like to see more of regarding the Damsel and potential growth with her in AUs is going into more depth with her desire to makeyou happy. Speaking as someone who tends to do stuff mainly for the sake of people that were kind to me, I kind of like the idea of her being the same way. Perhaps an AU where it's explained that she's so grateful that she doesn't even care about herself anymore. She's just eager to please you because she wants to make you just as happy as you make her.

I feel like the Tower can be "fixed". In my AU, her no longer being a literal goddess helps, but perhaps her haughtiness can be mellowed by genuine emotional connection. It would take time, of course, but maybe she would eventually realise that you're special to her and more than just a "believer". Idk I just think the idea of her improving would be cute.

Whenever I play the Spectre route, I always get overwhelmingly sad. The devs did a great job of making you feel for her and feel awful for hurting her, at least in my opinion. I always imagined that the reason for her becoming kind after possessing you (provided you actually apologised first) was that she saw the sheer regret and guilt in your heart and thought she should stop being so harsh on you. I wanted to give her a hug at the end.

Similarly, I know the whole point of her is that you've hurt her so much she hates your guts and no longer cares about you making any decisions but I would have liked to properly apologise to the Wraith. If she became that way through attempting to leave the Spectre behind, I would have wanted to weakly reach out to her at the end and tell her that I don't want to leave her alone. I don't know, I just feel bad for her.

That's all I can think of for now.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some replies! Starting with one about our Prison AU, but then going into a slightly more cursed territory…

No headcanons today, sorry.

Anonymous asked:

I know it's been awhile since prison au has been last talk. But have ever wondered what Vil and Ortho be like in that au? Both being guards while also Vil being a prisoner and Ortho as a guard.

It really has! I think about it from time to time though, revisiting this AU is always fun. I’m glad you like it, Anon!

Whether Vil is a guard or a prisoner, the dynamic between him and Ortho is going to stay relatively the same: Ortho is his little sunshine in this hellhole lol If both of them are guards, Vil probably uses Ortho’s robot functions more than any other guard (except for Idia, obviously). While some of the other guards are either neutral or even a bit distrustful towards Ortho (because he is a robot + because the Shrouds are very detached from the rest of the guards), Vil makes it a point to treat Ortho as an equal. Or at least as a promising protégé who deserves all the praise for his hard work. Whenever he actually works and not just hangs out with Idia at their booth, of course.

If Vil is a prisoner, he really enjoys the days when it’s Ortho’s turn to patrol. Because Ortho always says hi to everyone and stops to chat with Vil specifically for a minute or two. Maybe it’s the fact that Ortho’s views on morality are so weird and his emotional development is at a very awkward stage, but Vil is very drawn to him, so their little chats are highlights of his days. Ortho enjoys it a lot too – he learns a lot from Vil, especially considering the fact that Ortho is into movies and Vil is an actor with a very turbulent life. So yeah, Ortho is probably one of the few people who make Vil smile in this AU.

Anonymous asked:

This is such a cursed thought, but imagine Sebek and Greenhill having a screaming match, lol.

Oh god, they’ll break so many windows with their yelling, these loud blokes lol I wonder who’s louder…

Anonymous asked:

Women Azul pegs idia for sure

Even better, she tentacles Idia 🥰 even if it’s a f/m situation

Anonymous asked:

I’m probably gonna regret this but what cringey stuff does Lilia bully Idia into yelling?

It depends, Lilia is kind of a menace and sometimes demands his lovers to say things that make no sense and that aren’t even that sexy, just weird. Like animal noises and stuff, but fortunately he didn’t ask Idia to do something like that yet… well. Maybe he told him to meow once. Maybe twice.

Sometimes Lilia goes the classic route and demands his lover to beg to let him cum or forces him to pick between two equally embarrassing options, but it makes Idia so overwhelmed and nervous that he ends up getting hiccups and barely being able to make any coherent sound. It’s always a blur for both of them, because Lilia just says shit without thinking about it, and by the time this happens Idia’s brain is a complete mush oops. I’m so vague with this reply...

Anonymous asked:

You mentioned in a headcanons post for Lilia and Idia that Lilia will degrade but that he’s done much much worse? You can’t tease us like that and not spill the deets, yk.

Damn I was kinda hoping I’d get away with it (headscratch png)

Well, compared to what Lilia used to do when he was younger, some degradation is really kind of vanilla… he really mellowed down with age, that Lilia.

Some of the shit that Lilia used to do: physical and emotional torture that lasted for days, public humiliation, orchestrating gangbangs/orgies and participating in them, desecration of his wounded enemies’ bodies, brainwashing, insane and intense kinks, scaring the fuck out of his enemies and haunting them, etc etc etc. It didn’t happen every single time of course, but at his worst Lilia used to be quite scary. Debauchery was his middle name… Lilia Debauchery Vanrouge.

[jazzmckay]

davg day 2:

im queer and suffering. i just barely held myself off from flirting with lace because im saving myself for neve okay but then bellara upgraded from "cool and cute" to "yeah i need to romance her" and then i recruited lucanis. need i even say more. hes the kind of Complicated i always go nuts for. i think i can restrain myself with him though because it would be fun to romance him with a mage perhaps. another time. its fine. i can do this. (let me be poly bioware)

backing up a bit now that i have that out of my system :p

dragon!ghilly lets gooooo. that section was fucked up (affectionate). i was also a bit fucked up. left the mayor to his fate and basically instantly felt bad for it lmfao but i do think that's what my rook would do and that guy just got under my skin i guess! as bellara said, it was hard to feel sympathy after everything we saw in the village. wonder if this decision will come back to haunt me later, we'll see

morrigan is heading deeper into true MILF territory and i'm here for it. she looks really good. it feels like she's growing well into herself in general, and mellowing out. (possibly she was already like this in dai but i never saw because i was only ever able to play the default world state where she didnt have kieran. speaking of which, i really thought id have to pick more choices at the beginning. does davg morrigan have kieran? did she take the well of sorrows? my lavellan took it but that wasnt something i could input so!! im curious if thatll come up). i loved the comment she made about pissing solas off with trying to explain elven history to him hehe

so i DID expect lace to get magic but i did NOT expect it to happen in such a spectacular valta-esque fashion, damn. that was a "holy shiiittt" moment for me. varrics cryptic statement about it being bad is concerning but im gonna keep living in blissful ignorance right now and enjoy how excited lace is to feel connected and explore her new abilities

before that bit, there was that super sweet moment between rook, lace, and neve that really stood out to me ;w; i chose the dialogue option "we shouldnt be at each others throats" which lead to lace reassuring neve she wasn't blaming her for how things happened, and neve responded with pointing out lace shouldnt be blaming herself either, then i picked "we have to support each other" which was so lovely.... what a heartfelt conversation, a feel-good moment that bolsters the team dynamic. i looove it. i'll always take more companion/companion connection like that <3

i feel like i'm slower to pick up new game mechanics than i used to be as i get older because i'm definitely still getting used to both the combat and all the gear and such, but i think i like how it's set up in this game. i haven't levelled up a merchant yet but the whole reputation thing is neat and adds more weight to a trading system that is often forgettable / not really integrated into the story in most games. working towards upgrading both the shops and the items is interesting. it also takes the stress of inv management off my shoulders lol amazing, getting to loot without the hassle of sorting through it all and constantly running out of space? im here for it

solarric solarricing again

im unwell

then i headed off to antiva and took a screenshot of every cat i saw and/or pet. it's cool to learn more about the crows. naturally, i was excited to be in a city again and it did not disappoint. theyre sooo well crafted, absolutely beautiful and designed to make them feel genuinely alive.

the prison was also gorgeous. the environments in this game kick ass. ive stopped so many times just to take in the view. stunning. that giant skeleton on the sea floor caught my eye too.

the fact that "oof" is a dialogue option is SO FUNNY....

the scene of bellara trying to fix the archive spirit crystal and reading her packing note is what sealed the deal for me. i picked the purple option after watching her hit the thing in frustration, the "can i try too?" one and it was so cute. failed to resist flirting and that was also cute af

that said, im already thinking about bellara/merrill bc how can i not... idk if merrill will come up later in some other fashion so this might not make sense, but i can imagine merrill relating to the veil jumpers and being in contact, able to help them with artifacts. if bellara knows about merrill and what she accomplished before the breach and magic getting wonky, she probably looks up to her a bit. and i think bellara would remind merrill of herself as she was before everything terrible happened for her 😭it would be nice for her to have someone who can both meet her on the same level re: technical/magical knowledge and in such a chipper, enthusiastic way

i think i'm still gonna romance neve though, i just feel like she and my current rook Work. i loved the detail that they never met before despite both being associated with the shadow dragons and neve saying because she's more of an informant, rook mightve acted on her info before. i also chose her to help me during solas' ritual so she got hurt, which added more emotional connection ;w;

back to minrathous soon which im excited about. but im gonna do lace's side mission about her magic first :>