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senbons · 7 months ago

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I love how you put the note to discuss the ending scene in ch 2 because I NEED to discuss it!

I dont know if I interpreted it right but "you could do it" was more like an invitation than a challenge. She wasn't challenging him. In my head she was asking him to release it, release them. They both want it and they both knew. And SHE knew. But when his fingers grasps too tightly into her neck, she realized and that's why she is so scared. She did not expect it. She thought she got him. (And you fucking got me. Really thought that they were gonna kiss until he mentioned that he's imagined doing it to her for years lol). I think that was the first time she actually realized how much he hates her. Like, hates her. He is so hard. But he's been through alot. The beginning of the chapter and the brief explanation about the occupation, the war, and his family really gives so much into that end scene. The feeling of frustration and guilt Shikamaru experienced in this chapter brought tears to my eyes in the end (even tho it ends with him looking at his sperm-covered hand lol).

ANYWAY, THIS IS ALREADY SO FUCKING HOT.

It's sad but it's hot and it's soooo goood I literally shiver.

Just please fucking update it soon!

LOLOLOL that's not AT ALL what I wanted to discuss about the last scene -- my reasons were absolutely without substance 😂 dying that you're like making a critical analysis and I'm just giggling in the corner like "hehehehe semen"

----

Interesting interpretation of her line. I honestly don't think it's incorrect at all. I love so so much that you're focusing on it -- and forcing me to really articulate my way through it! I love that! In my take it also is said with multiple meanings/intentions, and then, of course, his action leads to more mixed/multi emotions.

I took first and foremost her line as a power play. Like showing that he has everything he needs in that moment to do what he wants to do most -- her life is literally on a silver platter before him. Like a pig with an apple in its mouth put before a starving man -- and that he stilllllll won't do it because she is (ALWAYS) in control of him. He will look at the pig but not eat it (weird analogy idk why i'm running w it). So it's like her showing off and also torturing him kind of with her power (but obviously in that really subtle way where they know it, but it's overwhelmed by the other thing -- it isn't a torture he wants to escape in the moment, even if he knows in the back of his mind he should). Really the "you could, but you wont" part of it.

Second, I think her line is also a kind of a dare. And I mean that not as a challenge... because even though I think the challenge is part of it (see above) I think the dare is kind of like... idk, a request for him to actually do it. Not to push him, but requesting him to do it. To make her physically feel the weight of herself. Like he said, she's stifled. And obviously has really complex feelings about her own life and role. And so there is this "do it" kind of proposition that has this unspoken "please" on the end of it. And to have him do it would be different because she has this thing with him. Whatever it is, they have a thing. He describes it as something in this chapter, but regardless of the truth of it, it's definitely a thing (whatever that means) (also please write me later (after next chapter or so) because i have more thoughts on this issue but dont want to say too much yet!)

And then, also, as a third thing (though honestly there's plently more one could get through here) there is the sex. Like, obviously, there is always the sex. The touching, the control, the desire to be controlled, the intimacy of that specific action (not at all trying to advocate a choke fetish please do not take this that way like the way people had a tie fetish in aibg 🤣🤣🤣 (everyone read that nyt article about the prevalence of choking in teens? bc im not saying im not into it, just be aware! 😂)

I think the squeezing of the throat scared them both because it was some form of actualizing all of the above and neither wanted to actually take the jump they'd primed themselves up for. like they both walked to the edge of a high dive and then shikamaru shook the board and they fell back terrified. HILARIOUS you thought they were going to kiss bc it didn't even occur to me. I am going to have to go back and read it! I love that. I mean, the intimacy is there. They're so dangerous together rn. (as you said, they both want it and they both know it).

Honestly though (per usual) Shikamaru is the big mess here -- like you said, his frustration and guilt is so overwhelming... I know she is also going through soooooo much (more than him honestly), but I'd date the temari in this story in a heartbeat over the shikamaru 😂 he's a wreck

long long response but thank you so much for sending this and hopefully everything written above makes some semblance of sense! and thank you SOOOOOO MUCH for reading! the fact that you're into it is literally the best compliment I am so thrilled. Thank you!

(oh god, now how to even unpack her still feeling her throat after he leaves.... what is going through her head tonight?!??? oy vey!)

#go easy #answered #anonymous #favorite favorite #i do think #if this were written from her pov #i would have her thought be like:#it feels to her as though he is choking her all the time anyway and so this is just to actualization of that #though i guess from his pov he also thinks she is the one choking him #ew why do i write such violent relationships #gross!#writing

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shouyuus · 17 days ago

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18+, pitfighter!vi brainrot, bc its girl-dinner time tw: sorta smut, sorta obsessive!vi, codependent relationship, not quite yandere but the vibes r kinda there, but still fluffy bc im me duh

pitfighter!vi who fucks you like she's trying to leave a part of herself inside you, who holds you so hard that the next morning, you wake up to the blue-tinted ghosts of her fingers along your hips and thighs, the dull blossoming bruises littering your neck and shoulders, rings in the shape of her teeth like strange, demented flowers (or perhaps like footprints) the way they trail along your skin, inked there for all to see.

pitfighter!vi who fights like she's trying to break everyone else in the same way she wishes she were broken herself, all fevered, focused rage, and none of the restraint. no patience, only the blunted sting of a punch well-aimed, an elbow to the ribs, a knee to the groin, spit trailing out the edge of her mouth, a grin crooked and bloody hinged between her lips bc she knows when she looks up and scans the crowd, she'll inevitably find you there, watching her with your wide, alluring eyes.

pitfighter!vi who thinks she knows the depths and widths of hunger, has seen and felt it all, growing up in the lanes, and there are so many different kinds, aren't there? the kind that aches dull and deep in the stomach, the kind that claws and roars open in her chest, the kind that tingles like spider-poison all along the length of her spine. still, she's never quite felt a hunger like this -- the kind that threatens to consume her from the inside out the first time she sees you, and at first, it might've been a wholly vindictive thing -- perhaps its because there'd been something in the shadow of your smile that reminds her of -- well, it doesn't matter.

but the first time she kisses you (in the crush of bodies on a crowded dance floor, the music too loud, the bottom of her boots tacky with spilled drinks and blood and whatever else), you'd run your thumb along the line of her jaw so gently, traced the lines of her face with a touch so soft it ran a fissure through her car-alarm heart, and when she'd pulled away, you'd smiled as if she'd given you something other than just the jagged, broken bits of herself.

later, you'd told her that you still appreciated it then. bc it looked like that was all she could afford to give; and she gave it to you anyway.

pitfighter!vi who does not think she will ever get enough of you, and still, the more she gets, the more you give, the deeper the hunger grows. it yawns open inside her, huge and dark and cavernous, carving into her the more that it's fed, and by the gods do you feed it -- the way your head tilts back to allow her access to the smooth expanses of your throat, the darling, moon-lit landscape of your bare chest and shoulders, the way you're so pliant beneath her, your trust pouring from you like drink. and she drinks. and drinks. and drinks.

drinks till she's head-dizzy and heart-full. drinks till her vision blurs but for the sight of you, the shape of you so familiar to her waking moments it does not shock her in the least the first time she wakes up in the morning to the after-images of you in her dreams.

pitfighter!vi who, for the first time in her life thought she had lost all direction, but now -- she feels like at least there's still someone worth protecting, worth fighting for. and she knows, she knows it's not entirely healthy, how much and how hard she falls for you, knows that perhaps it is not the best thing for a woman like her to make someone like you the still-point of her turning universe, you, who manages to shine despite the grime that collects in the city around you. you, who is softness made into an act of defiance, who, one night, curled against her side, told her that there's a certain vindication to smiling in the face of a world who would love nothing more than to rip the joy, bleeding and raw from your throat.

"it's not always easy... actually," you laugh, the sound sweet as spring water as it trickles over her skin, "it's really fucking hard but... why not do it anyway?"

"what, be happy?" her own voice is low and cracked from the fight earlier that night. but you'd kissed a line down her throat and told her that you loved it when she moaned.

"yeah. if the whole world wants us sad and angry... what bigger fuck you is there than to be... happy?"

pitfighter!vi who lets you draw the dark lines down her cheeks, but they're neater than she'd done them herself, who kisses your fingertips when they're stained with the black of her hair-dye, who laughs fully for the first time in... she doesn't even remember how long, when you lean forward and trace a tiny mustache with the leftover ink on your fingers right over her mouth. who sinks into the sound of your laughter like a warm bath, letting it soak into her sore muscles, unspool the tension coiled in her shoulders, the rictus threatening to settle in the set of her knuckles.

she lets you sooth over the harms and hurts that had followed behind her, nipping at her heels like disobedient dogs her whole life, lets you kiss her brows and pull her behind you as you point at the new graffiti art that wasn't there the week before.

pitfighter!vi who has always had a fierce love for zaun because it's her home, but has never stopped to consider just how beautiful of a place it is until she meets you -- and it is beautiful, an angry, pulsing, rebellious beauty, raw and dripping with shimmer-soaked ichor. a beauty carved of disparate limbs and desperate parts, one that is hard-earned and well-fought, the same beauty found in the darkest hours of night, right before the morning dawns, the same beauty she finds reflected back at her when she sees her blurred reflection in a pool of spilt blood on the fighting pit's arena floor.

zaun hums to the tune of debauchery, and for the first time, she's with someone who allows her to be greedy, allows her the breadth and width of wanting so freely. and she thinks it might be spiraling into a full-blown obsession, the way she can't go three seconds without thinking about you, wondering where you are, what you're doing, what you're up to. and you always tell her, tell her about the flowers you saw growing from a crack in the sidewalk, the shaft of sunlight hitting a shard of broken glass in just the right way, how sometimes if you close your eyes and listen, the ticking and clicking noises that run like a baseline thrum through the entire city almost sounds like birdsong.

pitfighter!vi who can't say she's ever fallen properly in love (she thinks that perhaps, once, she got real close), but wonders if this is what it feels like, to feel the void of your physical absence like the itch of a phantom limb, so she does everything she can to keep you close, glares at people if their eyes linger too long on you as the pair of you walk down the street, doubles down on her training regime so that she can fend of anyone who even breathes wrong in your direction.

who can't help pouting every time you pull away to do anything -- to grab another bag of snacks, to ask the bartender for another drink, to listen to something loris is saying -- she has to tamp down the urge to pull you back, to meld you to her side and never let go.

pitfighter!vi who starts to get more strategic with her fights, who saves up money now bc she wants to take you out to dinner, or just buy you nice things once in a while. who spends way too many hexes and cogs on a bouquet of fresh flowers, ones that aren't tainted or bred with the faint, sickly shine of shimmer, and she thinks its all worth it to watch the smile break across your face like dawn over a brand new day -- brilliant, blinding.

she blinks, watching with a fond smile as you fuss over the flowers in your tiny apartment, the space small but cozy, everything neat and in its place. you put the flowers into a tall, slightly chipped glass mug and set them by the window, admiring them from this angle, then that.

"y'like them, angel?"

you nod, grinning as you throw your arms around her, "i love them, vi! i love them so much!"

"good. i'm glad you like 'em. just..." her voice trails off; you cock your head.

"just, what?"

she shrugs, "ah -- just, i always thought it was sad getting flowers cause... they'll wilt someday, right?"

but when she looks back at you, still caught up in her arms, you're still smiling. and there's a fox-fire glint in your eyes that makes something in her stomach twist hot.

"well, there's one kind of flower that won't wilt that i wouldn't mind having here all the time..."

vi blinks, a dry heat creeping up the back of her throat, her heart a wild, fluttering thing caught beneath her cage of ribs.

"yeah?" her voice is hoarse as she swallows around the hope pooling on her tongue like blood. "and what kinda flower is that?"

you lean in, your breath a whisper along her parted lips.

"violets."

pitfighter!vi who moves in three days later, with nothing but some old clothes and her punching bag, which you'd already made room for (somehow) hung up from one of the high rafters in the kitchen, next to the tiny dining table tucked into the corner. who spends the next three days fucking you on every available surface (and some unavailable ones, like against the fridge for instance), telling you that it's only right to christen things now that you're officially living together.

who doesn't bother to wonder if things are moving too fast, and dives in head first because that's the only ways she's ever known to how to do things. who thinks, blithely to herself one night, the warm shape of you curled next to her, sleeping so soundly it almost breaks her heart, that you're probably the first good thing she's ever gotten stuck on -- and she's gotten stuck on a lot of things (fighting, boxing, the guilt, the shame, the anger, the world-ending sorrow of losing it all). its one of the things vander had always warned her about.

"you get into things too hard, kiddo -- gotta learn to pace yourself."

but she doesn't care, because hard's what she was raised on, and it's how she plans on loving you, god, if it's the last thing she does, right or wrong, so be it.

pitfighter!vi who still has her bad nights, still drinks a bit too much sometimes, but at least you're always there to keep her from going too far. and you're the only one who can pull her back, the only one she'll listen to when you tug the drink away from her hands and slide it down the bar towards loris, who'll eye it for a second before downing it and settling up the tab, nodding towards you even as you sling an arm around vi's middle to lead her out of the bar.

who still wakes up screaming some nights, her eyes wide and unseeing, scrabbling at you, tugging you into her if only to bury her face in your shoulder, her whole body wracked with dry-heaving sobs.

"my sister used to think there were monsters under the bed, and make me check down there every night before going to bed," she murmurs, her face inches from yours, her words soft and ever so slightly slurred.

you brush your fingers against her cheek, a comforting, repetative motion -- back and forth, back and forth, till her lashes flutter shut.

"guess she was right... but the monsters never wanna stay under the bed, do they? it's like they always... wanna come out and play..."

you let out a breathy laugh, "or maybe," you offer, your voice low and soothing, "they're just as scared as you are. and they're just looking for someone to scare their own monsters away."

pitfighter!vi who is still not good at slow, but sometimes, when she kisses you, she wishes that had the power to hit pause on time, just so she could stretch out the moment and kiss you forever. she thinks that she'll never be good at patience, but sometimes, when you tell her just gimme a sec! when she's waiting for you to get ready before going out to dinner at jericho's or just for a round of drinks at the bar round the corner, her leaning against the doorway watching as you put the finishing touches of your makeup on yourself in the kitchen mirror -- she thinks she'd give you every last second of the rest of her life if you ever asked her to.

pitfighter!vi who, recently, has really, really started hoping that someday soon, you'll actually ask her to.

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