#it's just. there's not enough content for me to justify it

[lavernius]

Locus and Lopez vs. dehumanization and seeing your own humanity through someone else

AKA 1.5k words worth of me trying to justify a random pairing I've been trying to sell people on for 5 years. Feat. a lot of my own introspection on both characters, CW for mentions of abuse.

It's kind of easy to assume that Locpez as a ship only exists because Locus is one of the few people who understands Lopez and one of even fewer who has had an actual (off-screen) conversation with him with full mutual fluency, especially since they interact directly, like, twice in canon (Objects In Space and the "Holy shit he's bilingual" scene from The Federal Army of Chorus). To be honest, that was my initial reason for shoving them together whenever I got into RVB and there was literally no content for them because no one was really considering them together in any capacity but a brief, funny passing interaction.

I do think language is an inherent motivator in their relationship with each other. It's a catalyst. Spanish, of course, is perhaps the most obvious thing they share--Locus being a Latino man and Lopez being the same in a convoluted and meta-racist metaphor. Beggars, choosers: anyone who knows how I operate knows I lean into reclaiming their depictions for my own brown person machinations. For Lopez it's the beauty of meeting someone who not only understands him, but isn't going to belittle him for the language he speaks or imply it'd be easier if he learned English. Locus will just listen to him talk and respond without commenting on the language barrier; Lopez isn't exotic or abnormal or "broken" for it, he just speaks Spanish, big deal, Locus speaks it too.

For Locus, it leans more toward reminding him of who he used to be when he was a simpler and kinder person. His culture seems like a forgone part of himself in many ways, but even if only because he's so distant from his humanity that he doesn't remember HOW to embrace his culture, or what the point of cultural pride even is. Lopez is like, reverse culture shock for him, where Locus is very familiar with Spanish as a language--grew up with it, learned it young, whatever, he canonically understands it and given he's Latino it's easy to assume it could be his native language--but has divorced himself from it so much to be malleable to his abusers that hearing someone speak it so unabashedly feels new. It's the lack of it that makes it so foreign, but it's so ingrained into him that it's easy for him to just slip back into it.

And Lopez being so stubbornly proud of what he is plays into that language dynamic, yes--now that there's someone who will listen and not judge, he has room to be adamant and own his monolingualism, and having someone as aggressively, straightforwardly prideful as Lopez forces Locus to recognize the beauty in the language too--but it applies on a grander scale, which is what I suppose the point of this post is: Locus and Lopez don't just share Spanish, but also histories of abuse and dehumanization, of being overlooked as living, thinking things in favor of taking advantage of their skills. And the results of this abuse manifest differently in both of them, but they're alike in just enough ways that their differences stimulate each other into bettering themselves and reflecting on what makes them, dramatic pause, human.

Some of Lopez and Locus's defining personality traits to me are their shared low empathy (forcibly learned on both of their parts) and the way they feel so alien in any group they're a part of. They're people with a lot of potential who don't care how others see them (at their worst, especially in Locus's case), but are limited by someone who only sees them for their usefulness (Sarge, Felix) and doesn't truly see them as a person. Lopez may be a Red, but they don't really care about anything he says, so he's just a wrench to them. Locus has Felix, but he doesn't recognize that Felix has one-sided power over him and is keeping him on a short leash; he's a shield and a weapon. They're tools, they don't have feelings, and if they realize as much it's a fault in their programming, they can and have to be steered back into place.

They're reflective of each other in this way. However, they're not identical in disposition: Locus resigns very easily to what he's told to be. He had more hope once, made attempts to be humanitarian, but was swiftly taught that kindness is suicide and that the point is to survive, no matter the cost. It was easy for Felix to take advantage of him by saying they needed each other when Locus was at his worst, because having kindness ripped out of him gave Locus little else to rely on but his hands. Locus has no room for questions, because a rulebook is absolute. It takes a reminder of what he used to be to make him falter, but even when Santa is showing him one of the inciting incidents of his "soldier" mindset, Locus can't stop himself from resigning to the mindlessness that Felix and the UNSC have already taught him.

Lopez feels trapped and is hyper-aware of it. He'll listen, but only because there's nothing else in the world for him. He's subservient but not in the same way Locus is, because he's angry about his situation: he knows it's not fair, but what can he fucking do about it? He was made to be Red Team's mechanic, and every word he says falls on deaf ears. He carries this self-awareness like a shield, like a threat: he could do something, but there's no point because his nature as a robot defines him. All he has is a sharp tongue and his hands, and the Reds only need one of those things from him. He revels in being able to complain and reminds himself that he's meant for something greater, but he's so fatalistic that he won't take action.

The balance comes from this anger. They're so alike in how they see the world and how much life has mistreated them, but they don't fully understand each other despite it. Locus sees Lopez as privileged for having a team because Locus has never had people to belong with, but he doesn't understand that Red Team isn't a safe place for Lopez. Lopez thinks Locus is misguided for letting himself believe he could ever be reduced to a mindless weapon, because Lopez has only ever been an object and Locus can't comprehend what that's really like. They see each other for their imperfections first and foremost and it frustrates them mutually: "You could've fixed this sooner, you could've escaped the grief, why didn't you try?"

It's this back-and-forth that they both need in order to reflect on themselves. They're harsh people who don't want to be coddled and admonished, but they're not making forward motion on their own because they're both stubborn and tend to decathect before they even recognize they CAN feel. They refuse to see themselves as human, but they can only see the humanity in each other, and they're both so alike that it could make them hypocrites. For a robot, Lopez's anger is so potent that it's alive: Locus sees more feeling in him than he's ever felt in his own life. Locus wants to be a weapon so bad, but he doesn't realize an object doesn't have heart the way he does, doesn't mourn the years it spent under someone's thumb, doesn't want to fix itself.

They're both brutally honest and they both need brutal honesty. They get along WELL by nature of being as similar as they are, but they argue so much because they want to understand each other and don't realize they already do. They're mapping details of their reflections. It's great: Locus is so hurt that he can only see the damage he causes, Lopez is difficult to hurt and notoriously good at fixing things. Lopez wants true accountability and retribution and Locus has cultivated complicity and guilt to perfection.

After Felix, Locus needs room to command his own life and put others in place when they overstep his boundaries, but he's scared of becoming Felix, so he also needs an anchor to keep him grounded in reality and reasonable. Lopez has never had real control over his own life before and would kill to have the power to make small choices and do as he wants, but he's a very private person who also needs a lot of space to work. They balance each other out and know the other's limits so well that they can easily go "You're hurting yourself and I'm not going to let you get away with it."

It's about understanding yourself through someone else and vice versa. Realizing that you share so much that if they deserve good, you do too. Reclaiming pain, experiencing freedom, finding support. They will deconstruct each other to the metal and muscles and rebuild one another over and over again, and they'll never get it perfectly right, but they're both going to learn more and more as they go. Flawless navigation of a road you've driven a million times, forward and back, potholes and all.

[psystirene]

some iterator doodles bc I like. never post drawings of them??? and i think that's just criminal of me. I didn't realize how long this was so uhh

little bit of context under the read more ig!

millionth attempt at an nsh but i'm happy with this one. i had the idea of them having the cone-ish antennae(?) and idk it wouldn't leave my head. as you can kind of see i sketched out the entire body, i've been more consistent w my iterator depictions- that being said it's kind of hard to see and i can't find the file so. whimpers

second is so old to me, it's five pebbles but the rot is more floral. specifically it's meant to be stylized petunias, and was vaguely related to my AMterator AU. Petunia flower symbolism (sorry if the website was lying to me)

3. a pass at designing FP and LttM

4. look at me boy. i'm normal. this is more recent, vaguely low effort lilypad art for my idea of a mobile puppets au. I think that Moon would have an attachment to the raggedy cloak she's been given and has done what she can to style and fix it in a way that's more convenient for mobility. NSH's clothing was probably fine but they sewed matching patches onto their clothes for homo reasons <3 the other two bozos are FP and UI. I will eventually post my UI design when Iget to it

5. more UI and FP bc I vaguely ship them (more specifically my version of UI which is probably not all that canon compliant- I can't even remember stuff I say 5 seconds after I say it so I probably have forgotten a lot of lore). I think UI and FP would bicker constantly but like each other. At this point UI would have apologized to him but that doesn't change that they're both Like That

6. just Moon

7. abhorrent malevolence and unparalleled innocence staring. they probably wouldn't get along tbh

8. the iterators if.. if they had hair (according to UNPARALLELED INNOCENCE) not necessarily accurate to haircuts i think they'd actually like to have I just. idk. i like NSH's though. also i don't currently have a gw/cw yet so that's why they're not there

9. abhorrent meowlevolence

also bc this is a nsh-having post. i am yet again pushing my any pronouns ??? gender nsh agenda. he can be girlwife AND dudehusband

[citrlet]

very sad this morning seeing Ryan and Shane leaving youtube to start yet another exclusive subscription service :/

[starlooove]

“There is no fanfic on Stephs treatment I have checked” that’s like the whole point.

[ozymoron]

starting to think this website is bad for my mental health.....

[gideonisms]

Also reading 9 th house which is very polished on the prose level, something I enjoy. Like these are good sentences and it's a nice palate cleanser between books with more sci-fi words & straightforward writing styles. she's very good at descriptions & I'm taking notes as someone notoriously bad at them

[badolmen]

So funny how trauma will just kick you in the fucking teeth with the most random triggers.

[catgirlapologist]

can’t believe someone just said i’m not “apologizing” for cats enough. I’M THEE CATGIRLAPOLOGIST i made COUNTLESS of posts excusing catra’s war crimes and justifying her actions WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

[katvazamo]

in my opinion alot of ppl are bringing up dropout in this situation but dropout has D20 ! thats like warrents any amount to be fair like the production quality etc etc the TALENT i mean love watcher but i feel like most of their content can be derived elsewhere especially wirh this paywall whereas d20 is so good to be replaced

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Does anyone else perceive the sensation of jealousy as physically painful? It sucks because I feel jealous of people all the time, particularly if they are better than me at something I like to do, or am in the process of doing.

On the plus side, this painful jealousy has instantly bitch-slapped me out of depressive states and overridden my executive dysfunction on multiple occasions. It makes me extremely productive. But it would be nice to just be happy for people lol

[tonycries]

Why Can't I Keep My Fingers Off You? [Part 2] - G.S. 

Synopsis. “Besides, Toru, just because it worked for you doesn’t mean it’ll work for me.” “Wanna bet?” For Satoru, convincing you to take the aphrodisiac chocolate too wasn’t the hard part - the hard part was being shoved into that bathroom stall, cock throbbing, mind spinning - trying not to beg for mercy. 

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected sex, slight femdom, overstimulation (male), lots of cum, you absolutely ruin Satoru, semi-public sex, subby! Satoru, aphrodisiac sex, multiple rounds, shutting up Gojo Satoru by making him cum in his pants, pet names (darling, my girl), swearing.

Word count. 3.7k

A/N. Can be read as a standalone, but PART 1 HERE.

Bros this was mad hard to write oml. Art by @_3aem on X.

Satoru had everything he needed to absolutely ruin you tonight.

Overpriced Cartier glasses? Check.

Jet-black Hellcat freshened up, ready with a little surprise for you inside? Check.

You, all dolled up and brows furrowed adorably at him? Holy shit, check.

“Toru, if we’ve missed our reservation because you had beef with the neighborhood cat again…”

“He was looking at you wrong! I had to defend your honor!” Dramatic protests falling on deaf ears, Satoru speeds through the darkening city streets, still grumbling under his breath about “cats these days”.

With your fiancé being absolutely swamped with missions recently, you’d been anticipating this night for weeks now.

Little did you know, Satoru had just as much - if not more.

Soon enough, the neon lights of that upscale, new restaurant you’d been absolutely dying to visit recently come into view. 

Okay, it’s time. 

“Y’know…” he begins, glancing at you with that familiar mirthful glint in his eyes. Laughter bubbling to his throat at your knowing stare, he plows on “Remember that one night where I just so happened to come across your special chocolate?”

“You mean swiped from my secret stash?”

“Semantics” he waves off. “But anyway, I was thinking…” he voice trails off mischievously as he swiftly turns to grab the mysterious black bag sitting on the backseat that you’d been eyeing suspiciously ever since you got in the car.

Oh shit, so that’s what he was onto. Eyes widening, “Toru, no.”

He whines, a pout forming on his lips. “C’monnn, no one’s gonna know except me. I want to make this night unforgettable, my girl.”

You raise a brow, “Unforgettable? Toru, your idea of unforgettable will end up with both of us arrested.”  After the madness of last time, you’d ignored his sticky note for a reason!

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you try to justify - probably to yourself just as much as Satoru, “And just because the aphrodisiac worked for you doesn’t mean it’ll work for me.”

He wiggles his eyebrows, twinkling eyes still undeterred. “Wanna bet? I’ll do the dishes for all of next month. We’ll never know till we find out, darling.” 

You narrow your eyes at the hand already snaking its way inside the bag, faded finger marks from last time still searing into your skin. Catching Satoru’s gaze - behind the amusement, something else shines darkly. 

Shit.

Goosebumps erupt down your spine. 

A beat passes. One. Two. Only the revving of the engine filling the tense air. 

“...two months.” 

It’s all Satoru can do to not jump in joy in his seat right now - knowing his girl, you’ll probably take back what you said and immediately bonk him on the head for being so ridiculous. 

“Deal.” he mutters lowly, pulling up to the driveway.

 A flash of hot pink. In the short time it takes the valet to reach your car, Satoru has already split that too-familiar chocolate, holding out the bigger part to you, eyes gleaming with excitement. “I swear this’ll be a night you won’t forget.” he grins, biting into the chocolate. 

God, he was going to be the death of you. 

The decadent flavor washes over your tongue, a slight tingling on your tastebuds. But, it’s still just chocolate, right? You scoff - at least you won’t have to do the dishes for two months.

Now, Satoru knows he won’t have to do the dishes for two months. 

Ah, how heavenly you’d be, splayed out and begging for mercy underneath him. Heels clacking against the polished tile and your hand warm in his as the maître d’hôtel ushers you both inside, dick twitching in anticipation. Shit, was the chocolate working already?

He risks a glance at how you’re faring - nope, still normal. That’s okay, he’ll be driving you crazy in no time.

---

Okay, maybe he won’t be driving you crazy in no time. 

How dare you sit there so gorgeous and unbothered, sipping slowly on your wine while he’s here mind whirling around how he’ll fuck you right here right now on this table without getting arrested for public indecency.

Fuck, it was hitting him hard.

Cock aching, heat rushing to his cheeks, eyes bleary - he sighs in frustration, resigning himself to do the dishes for two months.

Why did he even think of this? Damn his big fucking ego, he should’ve never taken that chocolate again. Maybe if he eats you out just right he could lower it to-

A feathery touch on his thigh. Too light for any sort of friction - just enough to set his skin ablaze. So deft that Satoru thinks he must’ve imagined it.

Until there it is again. Soft caress dancing delicately up his thigh. 

You.

A shiver creeps down his spine, blood rushing straight to his dick. Probably for the first time in his life, Satoru is speechless - maybe because you’ve reached underneath the table, teasingly sliding a heel along the top of his thigh.

“…darling…”

“Hmm?”

He blinks away the haze in his eyes, raising them to meet yours. “Wha-”

Oh. Oh, fuck.

What has he gotten himself into?

Eyes half-lidded, brows furrowed, and looking into his soul with a predatory glint that jolts the great Gojo Satoru right to his very core - and to his throbbing cock. He’d be lucky to make it out alive. Maybe he should just beg for his life right now.

Minutes tick by - or maybe it was seconds - Satoru is clueless. Mind only focused on the heel inching closer and closer, dangerously near to where he needed you the most. A smug smirk curls your pretty lips as his mouth drops into a soft oh.

The air crackles with an unspoken tension - his hips trying to subtly move you towards the erection furiously straining against his pants. He needed it so bad. It’s fucking pathetic, he knows. But he couldn’t give less of a fuck as your sole grazes his aching head. Pressing down. Hard.

“Fuck!”

Stomach flipping - before Satoru could fully process what the fuck was happening - he cums embarrassingly in thick spurts that pool on his pants, soaking right through the fabric, probably smearing on your new heels.

Head spinning, he bites his knuckles hard enough to draw blood, muffling the desperate moans threatening to escape his lips. 

He grinds his hips in shallow, mindless motions in a desperate attempt for more friction.

Instead, he gets the opposite.

“Behave, Toru.” you warn, swiftly resting your heel back on the floor, voice strained with something that makes his sensitive dick quiver animalistically. 

You huff out a chuckle at the almost-inaudible whimper of disappointment that rips from his throat. It’s laughable, really, he was supposed to be the one ruining you. This was so not fucking suave.

Face burning - whether due to the chocolate or embarrassment at the warm patch on his pants, he doesn’t even know - Satoru wishes the Earth would swallow him up whole. Would it be overkill to just teleport outta here?

The only thing that snaps Satoru out of his little reverie is your pretty lips forming into a tut. “Now now, Toru. It’s rude to make a mess at a restaurant. Why don’t we go to the restrooms and get you cleaned up, hm?”

Oh. Shit. 

A firm grip on his arm, his hands desperately covering his crotch. 

He was not going to make it out of this alive. 

Honestly, it wasn’t hard to bribe the waitress into letting you follow into the restroom after your fiancé - and put up an Out of Order sign promptly afterward. The actual hard part was trying not to rip off his clothes and give into your desires before you two even made it there. But you couldn’t let anyone else see him like that, of course. 

You were sure that if you had Satoru’s powers then you would’ve hollow purpled everyone here and taken him already.

You were going to ruin him.

Mind running a mile a minute, Satoru wouldn’t even be surprised if he’d just teleported to the restroom. If he was in a better state of mind he might’ve even admired the decor.

“My girl.” he breathes out, voice ragged. It’s all that is said before your lips are on his. 

It was like a fever dream - the bruising urgency of your lips, your aching pussy, and the heat of the stall as your quickened breaths mingle in a desperate dance. Your tongue intertwining with his. 

Manicured nails ripping his shirt open, you don’t have half the mind to register the designer buttons hitting the floor.

Satoru’s lips hazily chase yours as you pull away delicate strings of spit snapping just as quickly as your sanity. 

Your mouth waters at Satoru’s chest in all its chiseled glory, creamy skin peeking out from whatever remnants of the shirt were clinging to his sculpted shoulders. You wanted to ruin him.

“You dirtied my heels, Toru.” you frown, mockingly innocent. A choked-up gasp leaves his throat as you snake a hand down to firmly grip the erection straining against Satoru’s wet pants. Unmoving. “What shall we do about that, hmm?” 

“Ah! Please, my girl.”

“Please what? Use your words, Toru.”

“Please. Wanna cum so bad.”

Satoru learned the hard way that he could never turn back after uttering those words. 

Though, he already had an inkling once you immediately slam him against the stall door, fumbling with his belt, nails digging hard into his prominent v-line. “If you say so, Toru. Better not stop till you’re shooting blanks.”

The only thing that registers in his mind is the deadbolt echoing throughout the empty bathroom and his still-rock hard cock throbbing in your hands. 

“Ah- hah! Fuck.” low groans leave his throat at each jerky movement down his length. 

Head thrown back, pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, your tits pressing against his body as your hands urgently move along his veined length - up, up, up. 

Your thumb harshly teases his flushed head, spreading the precum from his leaking tip lewdly. “Oh God.”

His knees buckle, hands slamming against the top of the stall hard enough to make the walls tremble, desperately trying to keep himself from collapsing. Mind spinning, he doesn’t even know if he’s on planet Earth anymore.

“Toru~ Gonna let me join in on the fun?” your dangerous purr sends his cock twitching, breath hot against his ear.

Your cunt quivers, slick soaking your panties and trailing down your legs at the pornographic moans spilling from his lips as you fucked his thick cock with your fist. You wanted him so badly it was driving you insane.

Straddling a muscled thigh, your clothed core meets the fabric of his pants. It was already ruined, so what was another stain?

You grind your hips down on him, hard. Humping him like an animal in heat. 

Your slick seeping into the fabric of his leg. Harsh texture stimulating your needy cunt so painfully good. Swollen folds parting, mewls of pleasure leave your swollen lips as your clit catches on the rough fabric of his overly expensive pants. Over and over. 

Distantly, you register a strong hand tugging roughly on the thin fabric of your panties - easily ripping it and letting it fall to god-knows-where. 

Your hand doesn’t let up either, milking Satoru’s cock mercilessly the way you’d been dying to ever since you stepped foot into his restaurant. Your head spins, hips moving so animalistically on Satoru’s thigh.

A hand reaches down to sensually massage his heavy balls, squeezing and pressing hard circles - just the way you knew he liked it. 

“Oh, my girl. Always so good t’me- Ah! Hngh, gonna-” 

Satoru doesn’t get to finish his sentence before he’s pumping hot ropes of seed that decorate your pretty hands. Hips fucking up into you desperately.

You’re not far behind, juices squirting all over that expensive fabric, pooling on the tiled ground with a drip! drip! drip! that bounces off the walls of the restroom.

You two were so fucking loud. 

But right now, you wouldn’t even mind if anyone walked in to see your Satoru so debauched - as long as they see you fucking the soul out of him as well. 

It wasn’t enough.

“You said you wanted to cum, didn’t you, Toru?”

A shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his dick. “What? W-wait, darling. Fuck- Oh!” the strained words tumble out of Satoru’s kiss-bitten lips as you push down his soaked pants, kneeling to leave a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down to his twitching, thick base. 

“I won’t be merciful, Toru.”

Ah, you could do this forever.

Nipping teasingly till you’re satisfied with the bite marks decorating his pelvis, you pool the saliva in your mouth, spitting a long stream into his furiously flushed head.

Once. Twice. Mixing enticingly with his precum, trailing down his length. “Ah! Hngh- oh, darling. So sensitive-” he bucks his hips into you, moaning loudly.

“You can do it f’me, Toru.” you murmur darkly against his twitching tip. Satoru keens as you take him until his fat head hits the back of your throat, pulsing around your warm mouth.

Your fiancé’s choking on his breaths more than you as you hollow your mouth, bobbing up and down at a ruthless pace. Gagging, you shove his throbbing dick all the way in with a desperation that eclipses the need for air, till you’re nose-deep in those tufts of snowy hair. 

“Oh, darling. Jus’ like that. Losing m’mind.” he whines.

Your pussy quivers at Satoru’s slightly salty taste, making you moan around his rock-hard length. Drool and precum dribble down the corner of your mouth, mixing with the mascara running down your cheeks. It was debauched. It was messy. And it was exactly how you wanted him. 

Tonguing Satoru’s sensitive slit in a delicate dance, you feel drunk off his sinful moans as you suck on him desperately. Breathless. Craving for more. 

Looking up to see a delicate streak of tears falling down his pretty face at the overstimulation, your cunt clenches around nothing. Fuck, you could just devour him.

“Cum, Toru.”

It was too much for him- 

Tight balls twitching sensitively, he cums onto your ready tongue. Fucked out whimpers leave his lips, tears clinging to his long, white lashes as he paints your pretty mouth with his thick, white seed.

Ah, he was always your favorite taste. Tasted so good - so good that you could cum untouched. 

And you do.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head and pussy clamping down on nothing as you reach your high.

You milk his cock ruthlessly, relishing in the thick cum flowing down your throat. But it still wasn’t enough.

Removing yourself off his dick with a lewd pop! you reach a hand to grab Satoru’s flushed throat, nails placed right over his thundering pulse. With a single tug, the great Gojo Satoru is on his knees before you, in the bathroom of some fancy restaurant. 

Walls still quivering, you stand over him, connecting your sweaty forehead - and your mouth - with his. 

Kiss-bitten and smeared with your lipstick, Satoru’s lips are soft - or maybe that’s the cum coating yours. A part of you delights in his half-lidded, fucked out gaze as your eyes bore into his - does he even know what he’s doing anymore? 

Hot seed flowing down his throat, Satoru can do nothing else but kneel there and take it. He feels lightheaded, all the blood in his brain rushing to his cock as you suck on his tongue. This was driving him insane. You were insane.

And he fucking loved it.

“You d-drive me insane, my girl.” his words muffled by your hand still around his throat. His voice cracks with sensitivity in a way he would definitely be embarrassed about if he were in the right mind. 

Yet, how could he ever be with the slow, feral smile that spread across your beautiful face?

Leaning down, you whisper lowly against his ear. “I’m the same, Toru.” 

Maybe it’s your words, and the hot breath that sends shivers down his spine. Or maybe it’s the way you lift your dress so alluringly - cunt dripping on full display, slick trailing down your legs. 

All Satoru knows is, he’s surging forwards. He’s got your front pressed against the cold wall, cock twitching to life and bullying its way through your swollen folds. 

Mindlessly, a strong hand smacks against the stall as Satoru tries to keep himself steady. Too drunk off of you - off of your whimpers of his name, and the feeling of your plush walls clamping down on his throbbing erection, struggling to accommodate his size despite being so dripping wet. 

He doesn’t give a fuck. 

“Hngh- S’tight. Oh, fuck! S-sucking my cock back hah- in s-so needily” 

Ramming in and out of your hole at a merciless cadence, Satoru’s balls smack your clit so animalistically. You two feel like a pair of fucking animals. 

Shudders of overstimulation and pleasure wrack his body. Chest heaving, his blown-out eyes roll to the back of his head at the rapid, desperate thrusts inside your warm core. 

Pulling out all the way to slam back in mercilessly, Satoru could pass out at the sight of your ass jiggling as it arches to meet the rhythm of his hips. 

“God, m’girl. Gonna- gonna cum ah! Fill this pussy the way you want-” he groans raspily into the heady air of the stall, exhausted cock shooting wispy strings of cum that fill you up - some missing as he pumps into you, spilling out to paint your swollen folds white.

Before he knows it, a low hiss leaves his throat as you remove yourself off of his furiously pulsing cock - only to shove him seated on the commode. 

You take a split-second to admire your gorgeous fiancé - face flushed as much as the prettily leaking tip of his throbbing cock, eyes dazed and miles away, curtained by his sweaty white locks. A delicate trail of drool made its way down the corner of his ruby, kiss-bitten lips. Exactly how you wanted him.

What a fucking picture. Maybe you should take that chocolate more often…

“Toru~ Remember what I said? You’re not tapping out, are you?” you hum, eyes narrowing at the way his erection twitches so ferally at your dangerous tone. 

“Ah- don’t know- Can’t, please.”

You loom dangerously close, a hand reaching out to mockingly push his cheeks together, drool pooling at your fingertips. “I’ve told you before, Toru. Use your words. Please what?”

“M-mercy, please!” pathetic pleas muffled by your hand.

“Mercy?”

“Mercy!”

“No mercy for you, my darling Toru.”

The great Gojo Satoru, begging for mercy, will face none at your hands. 

You straddle his muscled legs, shivering with sensitivity. “Ah! Hah- Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god-” he whines nonstop as his quivering tip teases your swollen, messy folds. In one, fluid motion, you sheath him fully in your dripping cunt.

Ah, you feel so full. 

You relish in the way he twitches instinctively inside you. Steadying yourself using Satoru’s shoulders, you drag your cunt along his length, his prominent veins grazing that one spot inside you. Pulling out till his thick head teases your entrance, you drop down - inch by inch - over and over.

Satoru thinks he could cry right now - or maybe he already is. He doesn’t know, nor does he care - not when you’re so beautiful and fucked out, nails digging into his shoulders and heart eyes palpable in your gaze as you ride his sensitive cock into insanity.

He can’t stop the ragged moans that escape his swollen lips, head thrown back and hips bucking up exhaustedly into you to meet your every bounce. A hand is at his throat, pulling your face to his, “Don’t run away, Toru~”

He felt so raw. More a feral beast than a man as he watches his abused cock get swallowed up over and over by your wet pussy.

If he thought his dick was broken after this time then it’s really unsalvageable now.

He wanted to run away. He wanted more. He wanted you to keep looking at him with that fucking predatory gaze that made a carnal part of him twitch so good. He wanted to cum.

“I wan’- I wanna cum, please, my girl.” Satoru gasps out, teary eyes blown and looking up at you so delicately.

“Cum?”

“Yes.”

“Cum, Toru.”

Maybe it was the glint of fondness in your eyes, maybe it was the piercing of teeth as you bit down hard into the crook of his neck. Or maybe it was the way your snug cunt clamped down on him so sinfully as you cum as around him. But Satoru is immediately bucking up into your hips - reaching his climax, if you can even call it that. Poor, exhausted cock cumming dry. “Ah- Cumming- M’cumming hgnh-”

Satoru doesn’t even know if he feels his orgasm, just waves of pleasure that overwhelm him as he rides it out on your cunt. 

Ah, he thinks if heaven was a person then it would be you. 

Maybe he’s died already.

“Toru? Open your eyes, darling.”

Slowly opening the eyes that he didn’t even realize he had furiously scrunched closed, Satoru slowly blinks his vision back.

An angel?

“No, Toru, your fiancé.” you huff out a laugh. Oh shit, he said that out loud? 

Head still reeling from, well, everything - the great Gojo Satoru can do nothing else but sit there, exhausted and fucked out of his mind as you slowly remove yourself off his twitching cock. He’s never felt so vulnerable - so ruined.

Ah, someone remind him to never let you have a bite of that chocolate every again. 

A low hiss leaves him, along with a few tears that later he swears were never there. 

As you tenderly clean both yourselves up in the humid stall, Satoru thinks he’s never been handled with so much care. Ah, he loves your gentle hands. He loves you.

“I love you too, Toru.” you whisper into the intimate silence. Oh, shit, he said that out loud again?

Your beautiful laugh, “Yes, you did, Toru.” Throwing away the used tissues, you grin “Y’know they’ve probably brought out our food by now.”

Absent-mindedly, “Mhm?”

“I was thinking I wanted chocolate for dessert.”

A/N. Oh Satoru, you poor, innocent fool…

Also this turned out longer than expected. Reblogs so so appreciated!

Plagiarism not authorized.

Taglist:

@sage-ove @mo0nforme @thirtykiwis @planetzetra

[carriesthewind]

I reread the IA's contemporaneous post justifying their "National Emergency Library", and one of the things that struck me is just how selfish it was.

(It was also full of falsehoods, ranging from exaggeration to outright lies, but that's another matter.)

While 2020 feels like it was several decades in the past, it was actually only a few years ago. And I remember March of 2020! I was there! And oh my god, is this post right in line with every other selfish, demanding asshole determined to make a global pandemic all about themselves!

First of all, there is the language of the post - it is a "tremendous and historic outage" that books are unavailable to patrons because libraries are closed for the pandemic. "Right now, today, there are 650 million books that tax-paying citizens have paid to access that are sitting on shelves in closed libraries, inaccessible to them."

Missing from this outrage is a recognition that, like. Librarians are people. They get sick, and die.

They did get sick, and died.

Libraries were closed not only to protect patrons and the public, but librarians too. Libraries were closed to protect people, human beings. Because generally speaking, even the most enthusiastic supporters of access to books and knowledge, prioritize lives over books.

The AI's post, however, reeks of an entitlement to things that *my* tax dollars paid for. Libraries and library collections aren't a public good. They're something *I* should be able to access anytime I want, damn the context or the consequences.

(Was it also a historic outrage when I had to wait several months to check out Nona the Ninth, because so many other people were checking it out?)

Second, as I said, I remember early 2020. And in spring and summer of 2020, there was more free content on the internet than before or since. So many people and so many institutions were bending over backwards to provide people with books and tv shows and music and podcasts and virtual tours and collections and just about anything that someone could figure out how to digitize. So many people were giving away books for free, or writing/recording new content to give away for free. I can't even remember how many times I heard or read someone telling their readers or listeners just to pay what they could, if they could. So many people and institutions were giving away so much, do so much, to provide access to knowledge and books and entertainment and information.

And in that moment, the IA decided to steal from people. When so many people, so many authors, were acting so selflessly, they decided that it wasn't good enough. And instead of giving away themselves, they decided to steal from authors and pat themselves on the back for "meet[ing] this unprecedented need," when they didn't even actually do anything themselves. Or maybe more accurately, the only thing they did was something irrelevant to the actual needs of the community, something they wanted to do anyway, something to try to use a pandemic as an excuse to advance their agenda.

Because third, there is zero concern for the population of patrons actually most impacted by the closure. The IA cares, to a fault, only about information being digitized.* But many people who use physical libraries, many of the people most impacted by their closure, are people who do not have access to the AI's so-called "open library." And people who could access digital books generally continued to have access to their library's e-book services, and to tons of other free content. The patrons who were actually in the most need are ignored as irrelevant.

*And I want to be clear - they care that information is digitized, not about digital access. "Access" means more than information being digitized and theoretically being able to be read.

It's so clear that IA didn't really care about the patrons of physical libraries. Instead, they saw a real problem, and instead of working toward any solutions, decided to use it as a prop to push their own agenda. (Again, while people were dying.)

It's just all so deeply selfish.

[bro-atz]

head to head

in which: san's lap isn't just for napping...

pair: san/afab!reader

word count: 2k

content: smut, established relationship, nicknames (baby), kinda pwp not really, (justified) somnophilia, oral, sofa sex, unprotected sex (PLS REMEMBER TO WRAP UP IRL!), completely consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: i woke up from a nap one day... @k-hotchoisan can tell you the rest.... (thank u @yunhoszn for helping me w the banner before i could yeet my phone out a window)

It was a rainy afternoon. Your boyfriend, San, was sitting in his desk chair and playing video games when you walked into his room, your eyes half closed— the pitter patter of the rain on the windows was making you extremely sleepy, and rainy weather always made you just want to bundle up and sleep the day away. You trudged up to him and rested your chin on his head before letting out a little sigh.

“What’s wrong, baby?” San asked while still heavily invested in his game.

“I’m so sleepy…”

San paused his game and turned around in his chair. He held his arms out, and you immediately moved into his embrace, his thick arms making you feel very secure and even more sleepy.

“Do you want to take a nap?” he whispered.

You nodded and stifled a yawn.

“You can sleep in my bed, baby.”

“…Can you be there with me?”

“I don’t want to take a nap, though—”

“No, just lay in bed with me. You can keep playing your video game,” you told him, hoping that would be enough for him to at least sit next to you while you napped.

“Okay, then can you nap in the living room? That way I can still play.”

You nodded before the two of you went to the living room. San turned on his console and took a seat. You then immediately laid down on the couch, your head resting on your boyfriend’s comfortable thighs. San resumed playing his game, the sounds of his controller clicking slowly lulling you to sleep.

Yeah, right.

You were trying to sleep, and you were so tired that you thought you were actually going to fall asleep the second your head hit his thigh, but you were still awake. You kept your eyes shut as you fidgeted a little, trying to get into a more comfortable position. You were originally facing the tv, but that position wasn’t doing it, so you turned and faced the sofa.

When you faced the sofa, though, you faced San’s crotch. At first, your goal was to scoot away from his crotch so that you didn’t make him uncomfortable, but when you moved your head again, you saw it twitch. Amused, you shifted again, and it twitched again. At that point, you were definitely not asleep, and you desperately wanted to see the expression on San’s face, but you couldn’t without him realizing you were awake.

San, meanwhile, could barely fucking focus. You were getting dangerously close to his crotch, and he was getting harder with every movement. He didn’t think much of it when you laid down on his lap because you had done so in the past, but maybe it was because you were dressed in nothing but a long t-shirt and panties that made this situation slightly different. From the corner of his eye, he could see the shirt ride up a little bit whenever you moved, and at some point, he could see the hem of your black panties peek out from under the shirt. Yep, he was rock solid now.

You wanted to tease him further— since you were wide awake, you figured you’d have some fun. You brought your hands up to your chest and curled slightly into fetal position while whining quietly. You heard San suck in a breath and exhale slowly, his cock pressing against his pants more and more with every passing movement of yours.

San finally broke when you arched your back to stretch it out. It wasn’t just the stretch that got him, no— it was the stretch, the way you pushed your ass out, and the fucking moan that left your lips as you did so.

Carefully, San set his controller aside. He pressed his lips together as he tried to move away from your head so he could go situate himself, but when you whined again, he stayed put. He did the next best thing he could think of and tried to think of things that would turn him off, but that definitely did not work because you were still teasing him, and his cock was twitching like crazy.

At that point, San felt like he only had one option left (if he didn’t want to wake you from your “peaceful slumber”), and that was to take care of it right then and there. Luckily, your head was far enough from his crotch that he was able to slowly pull his stiff cock out of his pants, a slight sigh of relief escaping his body when the tension released slightly. That being said, he was still hard and throbbing, and he needed to do something about it.

You kept your eyes as closed as possible but opened them slightly to see San start to jerk himself off. He was trying his best to keep his breathing quiet, but he would grunt and groan every so often as rubbed himself. His hips were subtly bucking upwards when his hand sped up, so he had to slow himself down to keep you from waking up. You could tell he was getting more frustrated and that he was practically edging himself every time he slowed down.

San looked down at your face. The darkest thought entered his mind, and he immediately tried to push it out, but the thought of him fucking your mouth while you were asleep was just too appealing. Plus, the two of you had set boundaries in the past agreeing that waking up to being fucked was okay— this was mainly because you liked the idea of him eating you out first thing in the morning.

You felt San tap his cock on your cheek, a longer (and still soft) groan leaving his being. He inhaled sharply before gently moving your head and pulling your chin down to open your mouth. Heat flushed through your body when he slid his thick cock into your mouth. San whimpered when your lips got tighter, his breath shuddering. Your mouth felt so good— so much better than his fist— but it still was not enough.

San kept rolling his hips upwards gently as he moved his cock subtly in and out of your mouth, but he was moving so freaking slowly because he was still worried about waking you up. Finally, you decided to cut the act. Well, not entirely. You “woke up,” your eyes fluttering open before slowly looking up to San’s red face. He was biting down on his lower lip, and he looked guilty as fuck.

You didn’t give him time to move or apologize or anything. You turned so that you were on your hands and knees, and you started sucking him off properly, a long groan leaving him as he flung his head back, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. When he brought his head back, he placed his hand on your head and began guiding you the way he wanted. You went from sucking prim and properly to loud and sloppily.

“Fuck, baby,” San groaned. “Ah— Oh!”

San let go of your head to grip the couch cushions, his hips raising as he felt himself nearing his release. The second you heard his loud, low groan, he came, his cum spurting into your mouth. His breathing was still shaky as he finished completely, and even after you slurped up everything and took his cock out of your mouth, he was still red, erect, and twitching; and it only got worse when you swallowed and cleaned the edges of your mouth with the tips of your fingers.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he whispered.

“I know, Sannie,” you whispered back as you sat up.

“Well, now that you’re up…”

You smiled. You held onto his shoulders and straddled him, a giddy smile spreading across his face as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You slipped your panties off, and you held his cock gently, moving it so that it was lined up with your entrance. Both you and San moaned softly as you sat on his lap, his thick cock spreading you wide and filling you up.

“Baby, you’re so wet,” San teased as he pushed his head into the nook of your neck. “Sucking my cock did that much for you?”

Hearing him sensually mutter and say the word “cock” made you tingle all over. You gripped his shoulders a little more tightly and gave him a tiny nod, making him chuckle. He pressed a soft kiss into your neck before rubbing his nose against your skin and softly humming.

You simply sat on San’s lap with his cock deep inside you as he peppered kisses all over your exposed skin. His hands went under your oversized shirt, his fingers leaving blazing trails along your back. When his hands made their way up to your ribs, he withdrew his hands to lift the end of your shirt up. He held the end to your mouth, prompting you to bite the fabric so your breasts were exposed to the air. San grunted gently when he saw them, a smirk rising to his face. He moved forward slightly, making you lean back so that he had easier access to your breasts. He took one breast into his mouth and sucked hard, your toes curling and your hold on his sweater getting so tight that you nearly tore holes into the fabric.

“Mmm, baby, don’t tear this sweatshirt,” San chuckled. “This is a new one.”

“Oh, really?” you asked slightly sarcastically; as if you didn’t know that information earlier.

“Wait, let me just take it off—”

“No, don’t,” you stopped him. You moved your hands to his neck and said, “You look sexy in it.”

San’s face got a little pinker as he blinked at you in surprise.

“I thought you liked me when I was naked?” he asked in a teasing voice.

“Mmm, I like you in all forms, Sannie,” you replied as you leaned forward, making him lean back into the couch.

San grinned. You tilted his face up to meet yours, and he for sure thought you were going to kiss him, so he was mildly surprised when you started to leave kisses on his neck. You ran your tongue up the side of his neck before leaving a wet kiss, your lips sucking hard on his skin to leave a mark.

While you focused on leaving hickeys all over his thick neck, San moved his hands down to your ass. He moved you up and down so that you were slowly bouncing on his cock, the man stifling soft gasps when you sat all the way down. You held the back of San’s neck and tried to keep your grip on sanity as the friction of his cock rubbing against your tight walls made the tension in your stomach build rapidly.

San couldn’t hold back his groans at some point. You were getting tighter, and he was losing his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing getting shallower and his gasps getting higher in pitch. His waist was snapping upwards, making his thrusts way stronger. He was fucking you roughly, but it wasn’t quite enough for either of you.

Suddenly, San pinned you on the couch, and he fucked you way faster, the intensity of his thrusts not letting up in the slightest. You flung your head back and moaned loudly as San thrust into you so far and hard that he hit your cervix. Your thighs trembled as you creamed around San’s cock, the pleasure too much for you to handle.

You got so freakishly tight when you came that San ended up cumming too. He slammed his waist into yours and groaned, his cum spurting inside you. You felt his cock twitch inside you multiple times, before he pulled out; and just like earlier, his cock was still hard and eager.

“Sannie, you’re really pent up, huh?” you couldn’t help but chuckle as you reached for his cock and stroked him gently.

San chuckled as well before leaning down and whispering in your ear.

“Fuck video games— I’m going to play with you for the rest of the day.”

networks:

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apply for the permanent taglist here!

[beetlejuicyy]

criston cole is such a female-experience coded character and it is exactly why he is hated so much hear me out

his whole character is built around the idea that rhaenyra seduced him, had taken his dignity and made him feel like her whore. his vow and his duty are close enough to the idea of women's purity and value. you were sullied, you have to marry the man that devalued you, otherwise you are spoiled and unworthy.

on top of that, his identity as a knight, as kingsguard means he is submissive. he is not seen having a lot of opinions or plans to how things are done, the big guys in the council decide and he has to obey to their orders.

on top of that, when he does act at last, it's portrayed in the form of scheming, behind the backs of people, and it's mostly attributed to his sentimental nature, to his inability to think straight, be logical because of his personal feelings. that's how women have been portrayed for centuries.

another thing that makes his character harder to grasp is the choice to have the same actor play the pre-timeskip and past-timeskip criston. 20 years have passed and yet people see him as the same person who refused to be rhaenyra's whore but now he is hypocritical because he is alicent's whore. 20 years have passed and, even if you can't see it on his face, he's bound to have changed too.

in his relationship with alicent he doesn't talk as much. he is obedient, she's the one in charge. she gets to say when and how things happen, he is just at her service.

his entire character is build up to revolve around rhenyra, like women's lives are supposed to revolve around men. if he refuses to acknowledge his status in his youth he is no longer allowed to later (after 20 years mind you) find some sort of comfort in another master. it's like saying "if you say you hate the system why take part in it"?

his pent up rage and hatred is evil, because what happened to him was behind closed doors where no one saw or heard of it. because if they knew of it he would lose everything, exactly the way women have often refrained from talking about their condition in fear of being villainized themselves. in the meantime, the one in power will keep their dignity and spotless reputation like rhaenyra is not even held accountable for having bastards pushed forward as heirs, not to mention the fling she had with criston.

this rant is in no way trying to portray criston cole as a saint or a good guy or trying to justify his behaviour. this is actually the problem with hotd, the effort to draw a line between the good guys and bad guys. have it be either balck or white. it's not, it can't be. you either have complex, morally grey characters with flaws and mistakes or you go watch marvel or something. even there villains are more humanized than in this petty effort of righteousness.

LE: thank you everyone who mentioned the aspect of criston being a man of colour from dorne and the power dynamic between a royal and a lower born who fought his way into the world! this rant was written in a rush and while i couldn't express the latter as eloquently as most of you in the tags/comments, i completely overlooked the former. i love looking through everyone's tags and comments and seeing your takes. as @jazzyclarinet pointed out in the comments, seeing criston's character in this light does not erase or diminish the injustice other women in the story experience.

on another note, i feel like part of the blame is on the way hbo marketed the season with the pressure to pick a side. however, i think what we've been lacking as a society in the post covid years is actual unbiased analysis of art. swallowing up content without any question and making said content a personality trait is harmful. as i said, i don't like criston as a character, but i can make these points about him simply because i watch the show critically and i don't blindly defend a character while trashing another.

[yumeboshi]

𝜗𝜚。．．❛ #03. CORPSE BRIDE

𐙚 topic。．when you turn down yandere hsr men’s proposals.

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。general yandere themes, suggestive content, MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。aven, sunday, and boothill. sunday and aven are regular additions to my posts lol, wrote boothills less intense bc he’s too silly to imagine

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ ‘convinces’ you

。he will actually try to coax you into it. he doesn’t want to just force things onto you, that isn’t really what he wants 。“ill make you the happiest pretty bride, doll, just believe in me, hm?” 。continues to sweet talk you, telling you what he can do- buy you pretty dresses, give you anything you want, and he lists luxury after luxury. 。and he follows through his promises. even if you are being really disobedient, he’d still buy you more luxury than you could ever ask for. you will start questioning if you really don’t want this marriage- which is exactly what he wants you to do, to make you doubt yourself. 。his list goes on and on- a vip ticket to the Reverie, first row tickets to robin’s concerts, only the finest things that only his class of people could ever get their hands on. 。but in that list, he conveniently puts out ‘freedom.’ 。if you disagree, he’d pout, asking you why- and when you tell him you want to be free from him, he’d laugh, calling you a silly girl. 。“i already gave you a choice when we met. it was your choice to pick a card from an unknown pile.” 。he’d have the wedding commence in some really luxurious property of the ipc, and he will, invite your family over- he’s merciful. but is it mercy when you know you won’t see them ever again? 。“it would be a shame if they don’t see the happiest moment of your life.”

STANDING there with the most beautiful dress you could humanly ask for, your expression is nothing but a shell as Aventurine smiles at you through those shades. Your eyes are everywhere but on his eyes, when you stare at them, you feel like you’re losing yourself.

you are glad your gown came with a veil over your head, nobody can see your dead eyes, except him.

As the officiant goes on with the questions, you grip your bouquet a little harder to the point you feel their stems crumple, just like your shriveling heart.

You snap out of it after hearing silence- you see his expecting eyes on you and you nod blankly. “I do.”

And your husband smiles even wider, and he steps closer and slowly, while staring at you with uncomfortable adoration through those tantalizing purple eyes, he kisses you. You are expecting a tender kiss in a ceremony; but his gloved hand sneaks onto the back of your head, pulling you in hastily.

“I love you so fucking much, princess—” he breathes into you, brushing aside the saliva that trickles down your chin after his intrusion. “It took quite a while, but you’re finally all mine.” He pulls up your hand that has your forced vow on it, he chuckles and softly kisses your fingers.

“‘m gonna make you so happy, so ecstatic, that you’re gonna thank me for it, love. you will thank me that I restrained you from everything else.” he whispers, and the people clap, cheering; your family too, who smiles, knowing nothing that it would be your last reunion.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ breaks you

。he just takes it on another level (and does not find your struggles entertaining unlike the former) 。he will be, really heartbroken at first. the head of the oak family asking you to be his lifelong sweetheart is almost like him giving you his life. you are his entire world- and the world has rejected him. 。“…I see. was I not good enough for you, angel?” 。although his emotions will be very hard to control, he’s very used to commencing plans. he’d tell you that he could ‘talk this out’ with you. unfortunately, it’s not a choice, but rather, an order. 。sunday is a ‘the end justifies the means’ kind of person. he will do any means to make you eventually accept your fate. that will include imprisoning you in some faraway place and leaving you abandoned for so long, you will be broken, wishing for any interaction. food is only given to you through a remote device, with no human interaction. 。sunday itches to be with you- he is compassionate for you, his heart will ache to see you sob into an endless cacophony. a part of him will be tempted to go to you and be with you physically, not watching you from a screen. 。he will repeat it- he will visit once a blue moon, comforting you, asking you if you changed your mind. when you ask him when he’d release you, his expression will harden. 。“it seems you haven’t learned anything, sweetheart.” 。if you are still stubborn, he will be a little impatient. he will speed up the process by adding new things in- maybe making you dream of a lovely, free life and when you wake up, you’re just alone. he will not resort to anything violent, he cares too much about you to hurt you. although, ‘hurt’ in his dictionary doesn’t apply to mentally hurting you. 。you will sob and show your most dramatic, fragile sides to a descent of madness, thinking you are truly alone until sunday comes to visit. you are wrong, though- sunday has always been with you, just not physically. 。he has always been watching you cry into the void through a screen. always.

MAYBE you have finally lost your mind, because when Sunday comes to visit you and your dull prison, you collapse to your knees and immediately plead him.

“Please,” you sob, clutching his legs desperately- he doesn’t crouch, but looks down- almost like a god addressing its follower. Sunday is no god for you, but you beg like he is.

“Please what?” He looks at you, fingers brushing over your hands, tilting his head just the slightest. His golden eyes glitter in the dim light. He is waiting for only one answer, there is only one correct answer to his question.

But you do not give him the right one. “Please just let me go,” you break down. Your heart is throbbing from all the crying, vision blurry and your head is light with no energy to talk anymore.

His gentle, serene smile immediately warps into that of a cold one. “Try again?” His fingers grip your hands hard, warning you that his patience is running thin.

When you remain silent except for your sobs, he crouches down to stare at you on eye-level, boring holes into your fearful expression. Unlike his deadly gaze, his words are soft and flow out quickly like a river- albeit with a sigh of exasperation. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to stop this just because you beg.” His hand pushes yours against the floor to knock you down, figure towering over you as he leans in to whisper- “—although, they’re very pleasant to listen to.”

“Honestly, I don’t get why you are struggling right now. It’s so easier to accept your eventual fate. Unless, you do like to seek pain.”

His other hand goes over your stomach, then slides tantalizingly slow up your body- you shiver and tremble at each touch that is too foreign to you. Cold fingers cage your neck and you choke on your breath.

“I’m not planning on hurting you, angel.” His voice is still gentle, but his eyes are telling another story, they seem keen to hurt you again and again. “But I did say I’ll resort to other… methods. Since none of them seem to work, I suppose the only solution would be caging you with a baby.” When your eyes widen, he laughs dryly. “The look on your face tells me that you didn’t expect it. But you will be my loving wife, dear. You will not be able to run or reject me, not when your own child is at stake. It makes only more sense to… make you bear children. My children.”

As he watches you struggle under him, trying to breathe, he feels like he has entered ascension. Soon, one of your pretty fingers will have his ring, and very very soon, he will have his first child- the very thought of him makes him lose his mind. He so wishes to make you his, claim you inside, watch your pretty pussy gush out his cum while he’s pressing deep into your womb- but he also wishes to see a mini version of him, or you. He finds it too adorable to withstand. He will vow that his children will grow up pure and innocent.

“We will be the happiest family in the world,” he purrs. “And I’ll make sure of it.”

#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིOOTHILL ⇢ will try to prove himself

。maybe a little similar to aven. but while the latter will materialistically give you things and spoil you around to convince you, boothill will more likely show himself off instead. 。“i can fudgin’ shoot an ipc lackey in the head from miles away, sugar- ya can’t see that ‘n any other guy.” 。he’ll try to show you his capability to protect you- which will likely end up in multiple people dying but as a galaxy ranger, he has morals, so he will probably use the ipc as his shooting dummies 。overall he’s sweet even if you reject his proposal- he will likely be furious, just not at you. 。oh lord but during the day you rejected him, be prepared for multiple news flashes of dead people across the street. the amount of emotion will be too much for his consciousness to restrain 。when you confront him, he’d apologize, albeit a little too nonchalant. 。“‘m sorry sweetie, got a lil outta hand last night.” 。per your wish, he won’t kill anyone who’s unrelated and innocent- but he’d still go on a killing spree in the ipc headquarters to the point you are blacklisted on their list because he would shout your name and rant why you didn’t accept him while he shoots his gun all around the place.

“BOOTHILL, what the hell are you doing?” You frown when he returns- even after rejecting his proposal, he drifts around you like a lost stray dog. And he is always covered in blood, looking furious- but when you talk, his expression simply melts away like butter to a grin that shows his sharp teeth.

“What do ya mean what I’m doin’? Makin’ sure nobody hurts you.” He snickers. He smells like metal, like he always does, but this time it’s overpowering, which lets you know what he’s been doing.

“I don’t need protection, Boothill. You can just leave me alone.”

You’re beyond annoyed at his clinginess. No matter how many times you reject him, he’d always come back, showing something new off to you, and half the time it wasn’t anything pleasant, but rather his list of crimes.

“Aww, don’t be so uptight, sugar.” He chuckles and flashes a grin and his other metal hand spontaneously pulls you into his embrace— you jump. When did his hand get there? “All I wanna do is to make sure my future wife is safe and sound. Nothin’ wrong with that, hm?”

“I told you, I’m not going to accept-“

“Ah ah! Wait and see, you will be, I promise. But don’t drag the chase a lil too long. Even I get impatient.” Something cold pressed against your forehead and you realize it’s his gun. When your expression turns aghast with fear, he barks an amused laugh.

“You scared of this? Nah, I’d never hurt ya. Won’t wanna turn your body into metal like mine.” Although he says this with a dark smirk, he doesn’t remove the gun. “The sooner you agree to it, the merciful I become. Ya don’t wanna see innocent guys die because of your stupidity, hm?”

[railingsofsorrow]

don't walk out

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: “we can fight and we can be mad but we can't leave.”  pairing: s.reid x gn!reader  w.c: 1K warnings/content: implied abandoned issues; argument; silent treatment (brief); language; angst.  A/N: guess I'm on a roll today. I just love some angst. 

navi

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“is that supposed to make me feel better?”  

lights had barely been turned on when you spat out a response, breaking the tense silence. your apartment was tidy, nothing out of order, even the pillows where settled two on each edge of the couch like you always did before leaving for work.  

it was the expected. three days away on a case didn't exactly mean your house would turn upside down, would it? unanimated things didn't move on their own. but one thing that was turning upside down was your mood. not only did the journey home came with lots of turbulence, but Spencer had to make an unpleasant comment that made your blood boil. was it wrong that you just wanted to not look at him right now? you were even considering not sleeping beside him tonight. 

“for fucks sake.” you mumbled under your breath when he had stayed silent. he's ignoring you now. great. throwing your work bag on the couch, you didn't even take your shoes off as you moved back toward the door. you can't handle his passive aggressive act and you certainly won't handle his silence treatment.  

“where are you going?” he called out, shuffling out of the bedroom upon hearing the sound of keys dangling. no. no, you're not leaving, are you? “what—” 

“i'm gonna take a walk, spencer.” 

it didn't take a second for him to rush over and stop your exit by blocking the door. “what are the car keys for then?” desperation clouded his tone and you felt guilt building up in your chest, but it wasn't bigger than your frustration.  

“I'm gonna drive.” 

“at this time of the night? you hate driving at night.” 

“are you my father?” he almost flinched at your sharp tone. okay, he deserved that hostility. he's been nothing but rude to you the entire jet ride back home. it's not that you did anything — even if you had done something, it does not justify the way he was treating you —, the case had been hard. it involved kids. the team wasn't fast enough. he wasn't fast enough. you almost got hurt. it was a lot to absorb in a short amount of time.  

he never wanted this: you walking out while you were mad at each other. no. you had made a deal long ago. you both were laughing after your first stupid argument, something about forgetting to fold the laundry.  

“okay, but we can be like this, right?” you said, nudging him. “we can fight and we can be mad but we can't leave.” 

his eyes soften and he almost turns to mush. he understood then that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. and yes. you would be mad and you would upset each other but leaving was off the table. he could do that. there was nothing he'd want more. 

but now he'd cross a line. didn't he? how dare he do that? how dare he cause you do want to walk out? 

“i'm sorry.” spencer is still at the doorway when you ask him to move. he won't move. he can't. “i really am. I shouldn't have said that. it was out of line.” 

“really?” you snap. he hears the edge in your voice and the crack. it breaks him. he just wants to hold you, he never meant—means to hurt you. “then why did you? why would you even think about something like that?”  

he holds back his breath of relief once you've put the keys back in the bowl. the lump in his throat diminishing slightly. 

“i was upset. angry— at the case. the whole situation, not you.“ he clarified. “sweetheart, i'm sorry. I didn't mean it.” you're searching his face for some indication of lie that you won't find. “i'm sorry.” 

“you're an idiot.” your anger is gone, there's just frustration now. maybe at yourself, because you can't really stay mad at him as he stares at you with those eyes.  

“i am,” he admits, no ounce of hesitation in his tone. he's fairly certain he is, in fact, an idiot. “i'm sorry.” he repeats and he will repeat over and over again until you forgive him. he will beg if he has to. “don't leave, please.” 

and that is not fair. it's not. he can't make you mad and say sorry and all will be forgiven. he can't look at you with those eyes and think things will be magically fixed. 

but then your armor cracks. suddenly, his behaviour makes sense. 

we can fight and we can be mad but we can't leave. 

“i wasn't going to—” you're ashamed at this point. you were so blinded by anger that you'd do something you promised to never do. “you know I wouldn't leave, right?” then his desperation in reaching the door before you makes sense and you're taken back to the moment you promised not to walk out in a fight. that's exactly what you where about to do.  

“i'm sorry.” you say, staring at the keys in your hands. “i didn't think before acting.”  

spencer nods slowly, taking a step closer towarss your frame. “and I didn't think before speaking. I'm the one that should be sorry.” 

you caught a glimpse at his twitchy fingers and takes one of his hands into your own, letting the keys slip to the floor as you yank him to your arms. he only complies by squeezing you against him. and finally, both of you have what you've been craving since this case started: each other's comfort.  

and then, you repeat. “i wasn't going to leave, you know that, right?”  

“yeah.” he burries his face into your neck and his voice is muffled by your skin. “yeah, I know.” 

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