#but there's no way to be that and not also be predatory and menacing and creepy

[saintobio]

*๑♡՞ i, spy.

pairings. sylus, fem!reader tags. 1.5k wc, mild angst, suggestive ending, jealousy, petnames as usual (kitten, sweetie, baby doll), alcohol consumption, sylus being annoying lmao, loosely inspired by his immobilized memory

sylus can be very petty when he wants to be.

today’s weather was beyond freezing, and the view of the icy mountains in the arctic region stood tall over the hotel grounds where the hunter’s association team-building event was taking place. you had spent the entire day engaged in activities with your team, enjoying every moment, and your laughter mingling with the cheerful atmosphere. it had been awhile since you last went on a snowboarding trip with the rest of your hunter friends, so this day brought about just the perfect quality time to boost camaraderie amongst your team. 

unbeknownst to you, sylus, who had also chosen to stay at the same hotel, was watching from a distance. his red eyes, usually cold and calculating, were now burning with an intensity fueled by jealousy. you had been spending time with xavier, your interactions light and full of warmth, and sylus could barely contain his frustration as he saw how your colleague brought you hot chocolate and used his palms to warm your cheeks.

“tch.” sylus absently swirled his glass of whiskey, the ice making a faint clink as he observed you from the balcony of his room. “seems like a stray kitten has found a new companion.”

then, as the evening arrived, your group gathered for dinner and you were happily chatting with your team, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind the scenes (aka by a certain tall man with grayish hair and crimson eyes). the rest of your hunter friends eventually headed back to their own rooms after finishing their meals, while a couple others chose to spend more time at the hotel bar. your activity of choice for the night was also the latter, telling xavier that it was okay for him to head back to his room knowing how he had been fighting the drowsiness off for the last hour. 

meanwhile, sylus soon made his entrance at the bar, accompanied by a striking woman whose presence was impossible to ignore. her outfit was dazzling, and she seemed to be following sylus’s every command like a pet.

impossible! you thought, eyes widening in panic as soon as you saw the onychinus leader. if your hunter friends found out that the n109 boss was here, this hotel would turn into a battlefield in a heartbeat.  

yet sylus, completely unfazed, walked over to your area in the bar counter with the woman by his side. his smirk was barely concealed as he approached you. “i didn’t expect to see you here, kitten,” he said, his voice smooth and dripping with subtle menace. “i brought a friend along.”

you looked up, your heart sinking as you took in the sight of sylus’s companion. she was effortlessly glamorous with her sleek blonde hair and exquisite fur jacket, her every movement seemingly calculated to draw attention. however, despite her overflowing gorgeous exterior, sylus’s gaze was fixed on you. and the asshole was watching your reaction with an almost predatory intensity.

“oh, sylus,” you said in an attempt to sound casual. “what a surprise.”

“oh, certainly, kitten. and by the way, this is elara,” sylus introduced, gesturing to the woman beside him. “she’s been kind enough to accompany me this evening.”

elara gave you a warm smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. her partner, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the way her presence unsettled you as he took a seat next to her, deliberately placing her between the two of you. “nice to meet you!” 

“likewise,” you replied, shaking her hand and forcing a smile. 

“care to join us, miss hunter?” sylus said with a smirk, his eyes glinting as he watched you hesitate. his arm was draped casually around elara’s shoulders, and the sight made your stomach churn with a strange mix of envy and frustration. “elara and i are just about to get some drinks.”

“join us, please!” the woman next to him encouraged.

“uh, sure.” pressured by the situation, you gave a subtle nod, only to receive a gleam of satisfaction in sylus’s eyes.

this bastard! you didn’t like how his hand was lingering on her arm in a way that was meant to be seen. each laugh they shared, each touch, seemed designed to push you further into a pit of jealousy. and the way stupid sylus kept glancing at you, gauging your reaction, only made the situation more unbearable. that’s it, you silently snickered in your head, i should call him stupid sylus. 

you forced yourself to focus on your blue raspberry cocktail, trying to ignore sylus’s stupid blabbering while rushing to finish your drink. his actions were a blatant attempt to make you feel inferior, and it was working. it was definitely working. but you couldn’t lose your composure now despite him making sure to lavish attention on elara. every time he touched her back and her waist, you felt a pang of jealousy growing more and more intense by the second. it didn’t help that sylus’s presence was also a constant reminder of the way he could manipulate your emotions, and it was driving you to the edge.

“so,” sylus tapped his fingers on the counter, his voice low and intentionally provocative, “how’s your evening been, miss hunter?”

“fine,” you replied tersely, trying to mask the irritation and hurt simmering beneath the surface.

“just fine?” sylus asked, his smirk widening. “i thought you were enjoying yourself today. seeing you with your colleague was quite… interesting.”

“if you’re referring to xav—” you paused, remembering that xavier had a bounty in his head at the n109 zone and it was best to keep him out of conversations with sylus, so you decided to change the topic, “did you have mephisto report all my activities to you again?” 

him and his equally stupid bird. so annoying. 

“there’s no need for that, sweetie. you stick out like a sore thumb, so you’re not that difficult to spot.” he smiled as he talked, like he was having so much fun at mocking you. oh, he’s deliberately pushing my buttons! his actions were a cruel game meant to make you question your feelings and your place in his life. 

before you could retort, elara suddenly tugged his sleeve, focusing all of his misrouted attention back to her. “honey,” she spoke to him sweetly, “what drink do you recommend i should get next?” 

you rolled your eyes and turned away, the old man playing the piano now a much more interesting sight to look at compared to the two lovey-dovey couple next to you. but really, it was suffocating to be anywhere near sylus, and the only way to stop feeling all of these crazy emotions swirling inside of you was to not be around him. 

and so with that, finally, after what felt like an eternity, you excused yourself. but the walk back to your room was quickly interrupted by the figure of a six foot two man, his towering height preventing you from taking another step without his permission. “where do you think you’re going, kitten?” he asked, noticing the sourness in your expression that you tried so hard to conceal. 

“heading back,” you merely responded, trying to find an escape by pointing towards the opposite direction. “look over there, isn’t that luke and kieran?”

as soon as sylus turned his head, you made a swift beeline for the bar’s exit. you even sighed of relief as you managed to free yourself from his presence, now making your way through the empty halls of the hotel. unfortunately for you, sylus wasn’t one to let something like this go. so before you could even think of hiding and running away, he was already walking next to you—the frown on his face growing more pronounced as he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the nearby elevator. 

“let go—!” you protested, wiggling your hands from his tight hold. “where ‘re you taking me?”

“my suite,” he muttered, pressing the button to the top most floor. “sleep in my room tonight.” 

you let out a loud, sardonic chuckle. “says who?” 

sylus, crossing his arms, looked at you with thin, furrowed brows. “your only choice is to obey me, kitten.” 

an exasperated sigh escaped your lips. “isn’t elara supposed to be with you?” you questioned, “you should bring her to your room, not me!” 

it was too late. because no matter how much you struggled against his iron grip, you were later pushed inside his presidential suite, the grandiose of his room stupefying you. the smell of red roses and wine was a relaxing aroma that continued to pull you inside. yet, before you can take another step, sylus was already pulling you by the waist, leaning in to crash his lips onto yours. 

at first you tried to push him off, but who were you kidding here? of course, you’d eventually melt into the kiss, allowing him to envelop his lips around yours, its soft and tender movements sending shivers down your spine. each kiss was a loud smooch echoing across the room.

“were you jealous?” he asked in a low voice, biting your lower lip and pulling only slightly away. “i don’t have that kind of relationship with elara. she’s just a staff member of mine that i asked to make you jealous.” 

“okay, and?” you frowned at his handsome face, hating how easily he could get under your skin. literally and figuratively. “the way you were still touching her was…” 

“your jealousy is showing, sweetie.” a smile of mischief crept up on sylus’s lips before he extended a hand to squeeze your ass. “and what about the way your male colleague doted on you all day, hm? had fun being treated like a princess by him?” 

“why do you care?” you asked, trying to sound indifferent despite the ticklish kisses he was trailing along your neck. “it’s none of your business who i talk to.”

“oh, it is my business, baby doll.” sylus’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, now unbuttoning his shirt and suggesting a very rough night ahead. “because i care about what i have. and right now, that’s you.”

[izumkay]

♡How the JJK Men Would Choose Between Ass or Boobs♡

—featuring Gojo, Toji, Geto, Choso, Nanami, Sukuna, Megumi, Yuji, Yuta.

Satoru Gojo – “None, your pussy.”

Gojo doesn’t even hesitate. The second you ask, he just grins, tilts his head, and goes, “Now that's what I'm talking about, none.” You blink, confused, but before you can ask, he leans in, voice dropping low and cocky as hell— “Your pussy. That’s my favorite.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like the question was pointless to begin with. "Tits and ass are great, but baby, what I really wanna be buried in is between those thighs.” And yeah, he means it—because the way he worships you with his mouth every chance he gets? This man is a walking addiction.

Toji Fushiguro – “Ass. Easy.”

Toji doesn’t even have to think. “Ass,” he says immediately, like it’s a fact, like it’s already written in the history books. "I need something to grab when I’m fucking you from behind, sweetheart." He says it with a smirk, hand already squeezing a handful of your ass, pulling you onto his lap. “You know I love watching it bounce while I wreck you.” And yeah, he’s got a point—because the way he grips, spanks, and buries his face between your cheeks? This man is a menace.

Suguru Geto – “Boobs, obviously.”

Suguru leans back, arms crossed, looking at you like you just asked the dumbest question. "Tits, obviously.” His voice is smooth, confident, like there’s no debate. “Perfect pillows, perfect handful, perfect to suck on.” He smirks, trailing his fingers over your chest lazily. “And if you think I won’t tease the hell out of you by playing with them for hours, you’d be wrong.” And he means it—this man is a slow, teasing bastard, always pulling your shirt down, always biting, sucking, squeezing. He treats them like a damn obsession.

Choso– “I—I can’t choose…I like everything.”

Choso blushes immediately, looking completely lost. "Uhh… both?" His eyes dart from your chest to your hips, his hands twitching like he wants to touch both at the same time. "I don’t think I could pick. I just… love all of you." And honestly? He’s dead serious. If he’s gripping your ass, he’s kissing your tits. If he’s sucking on your nipples, his hands are kneading your ass. He wants everything, needs everything, and he worships your body like it’s something sacred. Soft Choso but still freaky? Yeah, that’s him.

Kento Nanami – “This is inappropriate.”

Nanami sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is an incredibly inappropriate question." His voice is flat, unimpressed, like he genuinely cannot believe you would ask him this.

You pout, nudging him. "Oh, come on, just answer. For fun."

He closes his eyes for a moment, as if debating whether or not to entertain your nonsense—but then he leans in slightly, his gaze sharp, his voice dropping just a little.

"If I must answer—thighs."

You blink. "Thighs?"

He adjusts his tie, completely composed. "They are elegant, strong, and often overlooked." Then, after a pause, he adds, "Also, they make an excellent place to rest my hand."

And just like that, he goes back to whatever he was doing, ignoring the way you’re now flustered as hell. Because, of course, Nanami doesn’t play into your games—but when he does, he always wins.

Ryomen Sukuna – “I take it all, brat.”

Sukuna snickers when you ask the question, his sharp teeth flashing in a wicked, predatory grin. “Tch. The hell kind of weak-ass question is that?” His voice is full of amusement, but there’s something dark behind it—something dangerous.

He leans forward, gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Why would I pick, huh? I take it all.” His voice is a low growl now, his nails dragging down your skin, possessive, teasing. "Tits, ass, thighs, pussy—every fucking inch of you is mine, and I’ll ruin all of it."

And the way he looks at you—hungry, confident, like he already owns you—makes your stomach flip. Because with Sukuna, there’s no preference. No favorites. He devours, he claims, he takes what he wants.

And he always gets what he wants.

Megumi – "I-I’m not answering that."

Megumi’s entire face turns red the second you ask him. He chokes on his drink, avoiding eye contact like you just asked him to confess his darkest secrets. "I-I’m not answering that," he mutters, gripping the nearest object like it’ll save him.

You grin. "Come on, Megumi, just pick one."

His jaw tenses, his fingers twitching. He looks anywhere but at you. "I—That’s—That’s not an appropriate question!" He tries to act all put together, but you swear you see his ears turning red.

Deep down? He’s an boobs guy, but he’s too shy to admit it.

Yuji Itadori – "Ass. No hesitation."

Yuji doesn’t even pause. The second the question leaves your mouth, he just nods firmly and grins. "Ass. No hesitation."

You blink. "Wow, that was fast."

He shrugs, completely unashamed. "I know what I like." His voice is so casual, like he just answered what his favorite food was. Then he smirks cutely, tilting his head slightly. "Besides, I like watching it bounce when—"

"YUJI!" You slap his arm, face heating up, and he just laughs, rubbing the back of his head.

"What? You asked!"

Yuta Okkotsu – "U-Uhh… boobs, I guess?"

Yuta is a flustered mess. His face turns bright red, his hands flying up in defense. "W-WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT?!"

You giggle. "Come on, Yuta, pick one!"

He stares at you, eyes wide, clearly panicking. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. "U-Uhh… I-I guess… boobs?"

You raise an eyebrow. "You guess?"

He groans, covering his face with his hands. "I DON’T KNOW, OKAY?! I LIKE EVERYTHING! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!"

Yeah, he’s not surviving this conversation.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Gun Park x Reader: Protective (feat Goo)

G/N. Goo is a menace and Gun loves you.

"Who's that pretty thing?"

Goo cranes his neck, adjusts his glasses at who Gun had his arm around mere moments ago, and tries to take a closer look at you.

Gun refrains from snarling, knowing the reaction would only spur him on.

Using the act of taking a drag on his cigarette, Gun subtly moves closer to your body, shielding you from his partner's malicious gaze.

"Off limits," he replies, blowing smoke in Goo's face.

Gun knows he can be possessive, obsessive. 'Gets hooked on people' as Goo put it. However, he has never thought of himself as any sort of a guardian figure, preferring if people could hold their own in a fight.

Yet with you, he can't help the flare of protectiveness. The need to keep you safe. From dangers and wandering eyes and interest from over curious fools.

"Now now, no need to be like that." The blonde responds, wafting the smoke away with a cough and a sputter.

How intriguing that Gun is working so hard to hide you away. You must be a lot of fun. Simply precious.

Undeterred, Goo re-angles himself; directing his smile, stretched too wide and dripping with ulterior motives, past Gun's tense and defensive stance to you. Decides to go for charming instead of predatory, opens his mouth, prepared to sweep you off your feet and-

Gun steps completely into view, shifting in front of you so Goo has no choice but to stare at the black eyed demon and to face his wrath.

Gives his first and last warning, "Look for a second longer and it'll be your last breath."

"Ugh!" Goo pouts, visibility deflating at how serious Gun is. "You used to be a lot more fun," He mutters, then perks right back up without missing a beat, "Sweetheart, I can show you a much better time-"

The cigarette falls from Gun's grip and his hand snaps to Goo's arm, seconds away from weaselling its way around your shoulder.

Obsidian eyes flashing dangerously, "Don't you dare-"

With a sigh, Goo retreats and wriggles free. 

Takes a step back and holds both hands up in surrender. 

"Touchy." He tuts, throwing a dirty look at Gun.

"Nevermind," he shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs, "I have some secret friends to meet anyway. Let me know if you ever get bored of him, sweetheart."

Goo grins at you before striding off and you feel a shiver down your spine.

You felt like prey trapped between two monsters. No, that's unfair. One monster that looks like they want to devour you alive, and the other - Gun Park. Your Gun.

Who has tried to shield you from everything. From the rain to the unsavoury side of his life and now to his unhinged coworker. Who kisses you intensely and treats you like you're the only one, the only thing that matters.

Gun senses your discomfort, notices the tightness in your body language. He reaches for you, pulling you into his body and wrapping his arms around you.

His eyes bore into yours.

"Are you ok?" He asks, and you can feel his voice rumbling in his chest.

The tension had also crept up on Gun. With each word from Goo Kim, each moment his eyes were on you.

It's unnerving. He's not used to this. He never expected to care about anyone's wellbeing except his own but now he's in your orbit - you're all he cares about.

"M'good," you tell him, leaning into him and voice muffled, feeling safe in his embrace.

Gun exhales.

At your words, the unease finally starts to drain away.

[cosmictheo]

𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 | 𝐟𝐞𝐲𝐝-𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐧

(gif credits to @pascow)

— summary: feyd-rautha was used to have whatever he wanted, it was well known, but so were you; what you desired, was already yours. and what you crave right now, is him. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!reader —word count: 1.5k —warnings: death, mentions of killing, blood, fighting (yk the usual feyd), just the reader and feyd-rautha being horny and a slut for each other.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

yes, i'm finally back!! dune part 2 has dragged me out of my cave and has given me inspiration like never before.

Feyd-Rautha was psychotic. Everyone knew it, perhaps the whole galaxy was aware of his very eccentric... preferences and appetites. He was well known for his immaculate and animalistic way of fighting, of destroying anyone who dared to present themselves as his enemy, of anyone who would dare to challenge him. But he was also honorable, proud and loyal to his beliefs, perhaps too self-confident for your own liking.

But every strong man had a weakness, a weakness that could bring them to their knees, to yield, to be left vulnerable. You were Feyd's weakness, rather, his strength, his fortitude, the fire in his veins, the beating of his heart. And it was quite strange and utterly unimaginable to think that someone like Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen would have any feelings at all, there were those who firmly believed that he didn't even have a heart, not even a soul, that he was a demon in human form, a ruthless and bloodthirsty beast, the worst of the worst.

But there you were to prove otherwise.

It had been your idea to actually take him as a husband. Your parents disagreed, of course, for they thought you would be better off alone, after all, you were one of the strongest women alive, you didn't need any man or woman by your side. They called you the Golden Dragon, someone with too much power for this world, you had abilities that the world could not really understand yet, connections with the universe that could not even begin to be explained, the last descendant of one of the most ancient Houses, one that had vanished in time, detached from battles and senseless wars for power, a House that was recognized by that flag with the roaring and menacing red dragon on a golden field. That ancient beast that many thought extinct... until you came to Giedi Prime riding one. 

And you had arrived just on his coming of age day, where his favorite ceremony was battles, of course.

You watched him fight the Atreides men from your seat, your mother and father sitting at your sides, watching him as well, all in silence. Your eyes followed his every move, not even pausing for a second to watch the other poor men being annihilated, no, for your attention was solely on Feyd-Rautha, noting the predatory nature of his steps, his precise and powerful movements, eyes darkened with delight, eager for more death and blood. 

"He is a good warrior" Your father commented looking at him in awe as well.

"Too much so, I'd say" Your mother added in a naturally stern voice, distrustful dark eyes, observing the gory spectacle.

"He was born for it" Your father continued to comment, turning his head so he could look at you for a few seconds "For slaughter and death. Only to bring that."

"I think he's cute" you finally stated your opinion, voice low and serene, not even having the audacity to look at your parents, for you didn't have to look at them to know that they were both giving you horrified and scandalized looks now. 

Your father muttered your name in a warning tone of voice.

"He would look good in our home. He's built for fighting and protect, just like us." You explained, finally detaching your eyes from Feyd-Rautha, who had just killed the last Atreides standing, unleashing a wave of applause, praise and cheers from the audience. "Don't you think so, father?"

Your look was almost defiant, and yet composed, and your father took it as a challenge, but he would never be so foolish as to show any disagreement with you, for what the dragon princess desired, she had.

So, after sharing a short glance with your mother, he gave you a short nod of his head.

"I do."

And so it was settled.

Feyd-Rautha, for his own part, saw you and knew you were meant to be his.  He had heard of you, of course, his uncle used to insist that he must behave himself once your family arrived, for you were worthy of having the full respect of House Harkonnen, and that losing you as allies was not an option at all. So behave he did... or at least he tried to.

"I dreamed of you last night." 

Was the first thing he said to you, both found in one of the large, dark halls of his home, just a couple of hours after his victorious fight in the arena. The Baron and your father were in an important and pending meeting in which neither your presence nor Feyd's was required, because the whole focus of it was the two of you, and a possible marriage to ensure the alliance and heritage.

His eyes were barely distinguishable with the all the thick blackness surrounding him, his pupils dilated with desire, hands clasped behind his back, as inflexible as ever. He had put his all into making a good impression, his uncle had ordered him to, and Feyd was quite obedient when it came to the Baron's wishes. He was so loyal to that foul man that you thought it was something no better described than adorable. 

The thing was that, as powerful and menacing as he was, he was just another man, another pawn into this colossal game of power and thrones. And you felt rather pity for him.

"Na-baron." You greeted him somewhat pragmatically, turning fully towards him, golden eyes gleaming even amidst all the darkness through your gold mask. "It was a good dream, I hope."

"(Y/N) Pazuk, princess." He just took the satisfaction of deliciously savoring the name of your House, pronouncing it in that husky, deep voice of his. He also had the courage to move closer to you, rising from the wall and stepping cautiously, holding your gaze, looking down on you as if you were prey, a small helpless animal under his looming shadow. He then reflected, thinking about choosing the most suitable words... and the most appropriate ones "It was a very good dream."

You were in his territory, his planet, you knew it well and so did he, you were walking straight into the mouth of the hungry beast. Everything that was there belonged to him, he controlled it all and saw it all. 

And everything he was seeing now was you. And he was intrigued, captivated even. Because he usually encountered boring and vulgar people, people who were nowhere near his level, people who he liked to torture and make bleed to death. And the thing was, you happened to stand on his level, and even higher.

"Tell me more." You had the courage to order him in a soft tone of voice. He knew instantly that you were testing him, he was smart and knew how to read people well... but you, you were different, he could see it too, you were much more complex than other people. And he was delighted.

A hint of a phantom smile tugged at the corner of his lips just as he stood in front of you, posture rigid and dominant. "You showed me the way. The right way. The way of victory, the way of life."

You swallowed spit slowly and he noticed it, for his eyes descended to your throat for a few moments before rising again to your face, analyzing every expression that passed through your gaze, every gesture of your lips, every sign you allowed him to see.

Then he twisted his head slightly, face turning somewhat mischievous. "You think I'm scary, princess?"

Now it was his turn to test you.

He watched as your lips parted before responding, raising your voice with pure confidence, naturally, holding his dark gaze. "I think you're quite the opposite really, Feyd-Rautha."

He was silent for a few moments, long moments in which he simply gazed at you intently, with his full attention on you, on your body, almost as if he was looking at your pure soul.

"You are my destiny." He finally uttered, you could hear how his voice had wavered more for softness than harshness this time. "Show me the way, my princess."

You managed to feel the warmth of his body against yours. For someone so cold and distant, his body was hot and warm like fire.

"Are you going to ask for my hand?" You ask in a small voice, feeling suddenly intimidated by his closeness. There were very few who dared to stand so close to you, yet there he was, threatening your personal space. "Because here I am, na-Baron."

Before I could answer you anything, you spoke again, twisting your head slightly, barely narrowing your eyes. "You think I'm scary, my lord?"

He had never been so profoundly proud and thrilled by his title as he was at that moment, when you slowly modulated it with your tongue like a purr, your voice tastefully savoring it.

"I think you are beautiful." He immediately responded. "And I want you to be mine."

And so, fate had done it's work.

[geneviveleocardius]

könig and his way of loving you

but dark, obsessive, psycho könig..

könig’s love is possessive, consuming, and overwhelming in the best and worst ways. he doesn’t just love you—he owns the idea of you being his. his attention is laser-focused, and he has no problem telling you (and anyone else) that you’re the most important thing in his life. he craves control and constantly ensures you’re safe, even if it means being a little too watchful.

he’s incredibly protective, to the point where you might feel suffocated at times, but he always pulls you back in with that intense, knowing gaze and the way he makes you feel like you’re the only person that matters.

he’s obsessed with your neck. it’s vulnerable, delicate, and an easy place for him to mark you as his. he’ll kiss, bite, and trace his fingers there, watching your reactions with an almost predatory satisfaction. seeing his marks on you gives him a rush—proof that you belong to him.

his hands are almost always on you. his favorites? your throat and your lower back. he’ll rest his hand lightly on your neck when you’re close, a subtle reminder of his dominance and his connection to you. when you’re out together, his hand is always at your lower back, guiding you, showing everyone that you’re his.

könig’s kisses are demanding and consuming. he doesn’t just kiss you; he devours you. he’ll press you against walls, pull your head back by your hair, and take his time tasting every inch of your mouth. sometimes, they’re rough and bruising, other times slow and tantalizing, but they’re always intense.

physical touch and words of affirmation. könig’s need to touch you borders on obsessive—he’ll always have a hand on your leg, your arm, or your face. his words are equally intense; he’ll constantly remind you how perfect you are, how lucky he is, and how no one else could ever love you the way he does. his affirmations are sometimes possessive but always heartfelt.

on your period he’s surprisingly attentive, though he has a teasing edge. he’ll make sure you have everything you need—snacks, blankets, whatever—but he’ll also relish in the intimacy of taking care of you. if you’re feeling snappy or moody, he’ll smirk and say something like, “oh, you’re fiery today, meine liebe. good—i like you like this.” he’s not shy about making you lie down and letting him massage away your cramps, his strong hands both soothing and suggestive.

he loves showing off for you, especially during workouts. when he’s doing pull-ups, he’ll purposefully slow down, flexing just to see your reaction. if you try to help by holding his legs, he’ll chuckle darkly and say something like, “you’re not really helping, but i like having you there.” sometimes, he’ll suddenly pull you up against him mid-workout, pinning you against a wall just to feel you close.

könig’s jealousy is intense and borderline frightening. he won’t yell or cause a scene, but his eyes will darken, and his demeanor will shift immediately. if someone flirts with you, he’ll make it clear—calmly, but with a quiet menace—that you’re taken. he won’t hesitate to pull you into his lap or kiss you in front of them, just to prove his point.

absolutely. könig’s possessiveness is borderline obsessive. he doesn’t just want you—he needs you to know you belong to him. he’ll mark you with bites or hickeys, subtly test your loyalty with questions, and always keep a protective eye on you. but his possessiveness comes with an intense devotion—he would destroy anyone who tried to hurt or take you away from him.

he loves towering over you and uses it to his advantage all the time. he’ll pin you against walls, hold things out of your reach just so you’ll pout at him, and lean down to whisper things in your ear in that low, teasing voice of his. he also loves how small you feel in his arms, picking you up effortlessly to remind you of his strength.

intimacy with könig is an overwhelming, almost primal experience. he’s confident and intense, always in control but deeply attuned to your needs. he takes his time exploring every inch of you, learning what makes you gasp and tremble. he’s dominant but not cruel—he worships you in his own dark, obsessive way, making sure you know that you’re his and his alone.

he has a habit of whispering possessive things in your ear, like “you’re mine, do you understand?” or “no one else will ever touch you like this.” he’s not shy about leaving marks on you, taking his time to ensure you’re completely undone by the time he’s finished.

[sunsets-and-crows]

I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 3

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 5.1K

- - -

Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut: mutual masturbation. Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind. Sylus being hot and a menace. TRIGGER WARNING: stalking and dubious consent (Reader doesn't know Sylus is also watching her and gets a little handsy with hersef)

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

You lay frozen in bed, breaths shallow, the silence pressing in, turning your own apartment into something like a cage. Outside, the city’s hum felt distant, indifferent. You stared at the ceiling, your phone still clutched in your hand from when you’d called in sick that morning, informing Captain Jenna that you would stay in Linkon until you felt better. Your usual weekly report would have to wait too.

The call had been brief, your voice cold and controlled, but brittle at the edges. “I’m not well,” you’d said. 

You hadn’t offered an explanation beyond that, and Captain Jenna, perceptive as she was, hadn’t pressed. “Take a few days, then. No one’s else can cover for you so the mission has to be paused until you’re better. Just… rest.”

Rest. As if that was possible.

Every corner of your apartment felt claustrophobic, the sharp lines and muted lights closing in, mocking you. The stillness, almost unbearable. The shadows cast by the dim lighting stretched too far, crowding the corners of the room, while outside the city pulsed with its usual dispassionate hum.

You’d killed a man - for him. Pulled the trigger, watched his body collapse in the darkness, the knife still inches from Sylus. The memory looped in your mind, every instant replaying in agonising detail. Your hand had moved on instinct, your shot trained with precision you couldn’t remember planning. The whole scene burned behind your eyes, refusing to fade.

And still, even as you felt the weight of guilt twist in your stomach, you couldn’t stop the darker thoughts clawing up through the silence. The way he looked that night, standing so close to danger, his strength an unbreakable presence. No one else could pull you into madness like he did.

You couldn’t deny it any longer: it wasn’t instinct. It was him.

That damned pinboard drew your eyes like a magnet. His face stared back at you from every angle: the piercing red eyes, the sharp, almost predatory jawline, the messy silver hair that looked too perfect in its disarray. And that body - muscular and powerful. A god of chaos and control wrapped in one dangerous package.

As the hours passed, you began to try and justify it to yourself. But no amount of rationalising could erase the truth: you’d killed for him. Your mind circled back to the moment, instinct gone wild, your gun trained on someone whose life ended at your hands, all for Sylus. 

You told yourself. If you hadn’t acted, he would have killed him. And Sylus… well the Hunter’s Association wanted him alive, didn't they? You tried to believe it - tried to tell yourself that saving him would count as part of the mission, that it was the right thing to do. But even as you repeated the word, you knew there was more to it.

The thought twisted in your mind, seeping into something darker. You’d killed someone for him. It had been quick, instinctual - your gun aimed and fired before you could think. And the traitor had collapsed in a heap, his life snuffed out in an instant. You hadn’t even thought about it at the time.

But now, in the silence of your apartment, the weight of what you’d done crashed down on you like a suffocating wave. You’d murdered someone. You, the hunter. The enforcer of justice. How could you justify that? How could you look at yourself and think it was acceptable, even for a second?

Your heart began to race, your breath growing shallow as the image of the dead man replayed in your mind. His body crumpling, the blood pooling beneath him. It was like a scar that wouldn’t fade, burned into the back of your eyelids whenever you closed them. What kind of person did that make you?

But you couldn’t sit with that thought for too long. Taking a deep breath, you calmed your racing thoughts and justified yourself.

No. You’d saved him. You would have done it for anyone, wouldn’t you? If anyone had been in Sylus’ position - if they’d been about to be stabbed in the back - you would have acted the same way. You would have saved anyone.

Liar.

The word echoed in your mind, taunting you, but you pushed it down, suppressing it until it was nothing but a whisper. You had to believe it wasn’t just about him. It couldn’t be.

But the truth gnawed at the edges of your thoughts, and you knew, deep down, that you were lying to yourself. You’d done it because it was him. Because the idea of Sylus being hurt - of him being vulnerable - made your chest tighten in ways you couldn’t control.

You stared at his image on the pin board. Him walking in the N109 zone, him in business meetings, him in his office, him, him, Sylus. Each picture seemed to distort under your gaze, his eyes drawing you in, his presence - his power - taking up more space in your mind until nothing else mattered.

You dropped your head into your hands, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to chase the thought away. He’s dangerous. I shouldn’t be feeling like this. But the more you tried to push it down, the more it bubbled to the surface, the more it consumed you.

You sighed, it was getting harder and harder to fight your feelings. You rubbed your hand over the crease in your brows, trying to soothe away the headache that had formed there. This time, it was clear that you were obsessed with him - every inch of him, it couldn’t be mistaken for young love and infatuation. Would it be so bad to just give into it?

The clock ticked steadily in the background, marking the slow passage of time, but you remained frozen, trapped in the tug-of-war between your obsession and your guilt. Just the thought of turning him in filled you with a visceral unease, a sick twist in your gut. How could you betray him? And yet, how could you justify not doing it?

You stabbed your fork into the cold dinner on your plate and forced yourself to look away from the pinboard, How could you betray him? How could you hand him over, not knowing what his fate would be? The idea filled you with dread, your stomach twisting at the thought. 

The truth settled like a weight in your chest. It wasn’t a decision you’d made in a moment - it had been building, creeping into your mind, just like your infatuation with him. You weren’t just following orders anymore. The mission had become something else, something darker and more twisted. 

You told yourself to let it go, that you would stop watching so closely. You wouldn’t interfere again. If Sylus got hurt - if he made a mistake - it would be on him.

But even as you made that vow, you felt the tug, dark and undeniable, pulling you under. The truth was as unyielding as it was terrifying: you’d fallen too deep, and there was no climbing out.

The second day of your sick leave dragged by in slow motion, every tick of the clock scraping against your already frayed nerves. Each passing minute felt heavier than the last, your apartment a quiet reminder of everything you couldn’t escape. Your usual clean standards were nowhere to be seen, the fork in your dinner from last night still resting on the plate you hadn’t bothered to clean, almost mocking you.

A soft buzz from your phone jolted you from your spiralling thoughts.

10:32: Tara: Hey! Miss you! How’s it going? Feel up to grabbing a coffee later? We can catch up! :)

Your thumb hovered over the reply button. A part of you baulked at the idea of stepping back into normalcy, as if facing Tara and pretending everything was fine would unravel the fragile grip you still had on yourself. But Tara was your friend, and she hadn’t pressed for any details when you called in sick. You owed her this.

10:47 Me: Sure, let’s meet at Café Preston in an hour?

10:48 Tara: Perfect! See you there! :D

You sighed, tossing your phone onto the couch before heading to get ready. 

The bell above the café door chimed softly as you stepped inside, the warmth of the place wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filled the air, mixing with the subtle crackle of a fireplace in the corner. Wooden beams stretched across the ceiling, giving the place a rustic, homely feel, and soft jazz music played in the background, adding to the cosy atmosphere. 

Tara waved excitedly from a table near the large window that overlooked the river outside. The sunlight filtered through the leaves of the autumn trees, casting golden patterns onto the wooden floor. For a moment, you almost forgot how heavy the weight in your chest felt. Almost.

As you moved closer, the slight happiness you felt began to dissipate. Sitting across from Tara was Xavier. The air seemed to thicken in your lungs. You swallowed the unease that rose in your throat, plastering a smile on your face as you made your way over to them. 

You hadn’t expected him to be here. You didn’t dislike Xavier - he’d been your partner before this assignment - but his presence always carried a weight, one you weren’t prepared to shoulder right now. Especially not with the things you couldn’t say.

"Y/N!" Tara greeted, her voice bright and full of cheer. She jumped up to give you a quick hug before pulling you into a seat next to her. Tara beamed, her enthusiasm infectious as she pushed a cup of coffee toward you. “I thought you were dying or something. But then again, I knew you couldn’t stay away from me for too long.” She winked, nudging you playfully. It was so typical of her—sweet, worry mixed with teasing, always trying to lift your spirits.

You laughed, though it felt a bit forced. "I guess I just needed some rest. I’m fine now." 

You avoided glancing at Xavier, focusing instead on the warm wooden table in front of you, the gentle flicker of a candle casting soft light across the surface. But he made his presence known anyway. “How have you been?” He asked. “Captain Jenna said you were sick, do you need to visit the doctor?”

You forced a smile, "I’m okay. I think I just needed a few days off. Some time to relax and recuperate."

Tara, always the bubbly one, didn’t waste any time. She immediately launched into talking about work, asking you if you’d managed to see anything interesting on your mission so far. She kept things light, but you knew her well enough to catch the undercurrent of concern in her voice. Xavier, on the other hand, sat quietly, giving you the occasional glance that made you shift in your seat.

Tara smirked. “You’ve been off the grid for a couple of weeks. There must be some big developments.” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, but you knew better than to indulge it. You shrugged, taking a sip of your coffee to buy yourself a moment.

“Nothing I can really talk about Tara, unfortunately all of those juicy details are confidential” you said, giving her a little bop on the nose with your finger and grinning at her.

Xavier, who had been quietly watching you with that ever-present air of concern, spoke up again. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You’re looking…tired.”

Tired. If only he knew. But you brushed off the comment, giving a dismissive wave. “Good to know I look as good as I feel,” You joked, but you could see how he winced, like he knew that his comment was out of line. You took pity on him, “Just a lot of paperwork. The usual boring stuff.” You lied.

Tara pouted playfully. "Confidential, schmofidential. I just want to know one thing-" She leaned in closer, her grin turning mischievous. "Is Sylus as good looking as they say? Because if he is, I might have to request to take your place!"

For a split second, the café around you seemed to blur, and all you could see was Tara. The irrational surge of anger that welled up inside of you caught you off guard, your hand twitching as though ready to strike her. You could see it in your mind- her cheek reddening from the force of the slap. But then you blinked, and the image vanished. Your hand remained still on the table, and Tara was there, smiling, oblivious to the storm brewing inside of you. You shook your head, trying to dispel the irrational thought.

You forced a casual shrug, your voice steady even as your mind buzzed. “He’s fine, Tara. I think people just like to exaggerate for drama. Nothing special.” The words came easily, but your chest tightened with the effort of pretending.

“Oh please.” Tara waved you off with a laugh. “You expect me to believe that? Come on, Y/N. I’ve heard the rumours. The man’s practically a god in that zone. Dangerous, sure, but also… Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t mind seeing what all the fuss is about.”

You bristled, letting out a laugh that sounded more strained than you intended. “I guess your informants are liars, Tara. He’s really not all that. Trust me, you’re not missing anything," you said, though your mind was already flooded with images of Sylus and his unfair good looks. She was actually missing a lot and you’d like to keep it that way.

But Tara wasn’t buying it. She gave you a knowing smirk, leaning back in her chair. “You say that, but I can tell when someone’s hiding something.”

Your jaw clenched, “Let’s talk about something else,” you said sharply, and Tara, sensing the change in your mood, raised her hands in mock surrender.

The conversation shifted after that, with Tara steering it towards lighter topics - missions, work, and just catching up. You were grateful for it. You nodded and smiled at the appropriate moments, but your thoughts were miles away.

The café’s atmosphere continued to hum softly around you - quiet chatter from other patrons, the occasional clink of coffee cups and plates, the gentle rustling of leaves outside. It felt far too peaceful for what was happening inside your head.

Xavier, sitting across from you, seemed to be biding his time. Every once in a while, you caught him glancing your way, his lips pressed into a tight line. It was more like staring honestly. Eventually, Tara excused herself to grab another round of coffee, leaving you alone with Xavier. The comfortable hum of the café only served to heighten the awkward silence that stretched between you.

"So, Y/N," he began, voice low. "Are you sure you’re okay? I haven’t seen you in a long time. I missed you"

You shot him a glance, keeping your expression neutral. "I’m fine, Xav really.” You reached across the table and patted his hand which caused a blush to break out across his face. You quickly retracted it. “Just tired, I promise." You sighed before saying “I missed you too,” It wasn’t a complete lie at least.

He paused, clearly debating something, before leaning forward slightly. He smiled sheepishly before saying, "I’ve been meaning to ask…  I was wondering if you’d… want to grab dinner sometime?” he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty. “Just us. I- I’ve liked you for a while and I would like to see if there’s a chance that we could move our relationship from friendship to something more ”

His rushed and inelegant confession hit like ice water, sending a cold jolt through your chest. You should have seen this coming - the quiet concern, the lingering glances - but your mind had been too preoccupied to notice. Your stomach twisted, and you couldn’t bear the thought of sitting across from him, pretending that your thoughts weren’t consumed by someone else. You couldn’t do it. You wouldn’t.

"I-" You hesitated, trying to find a kind way to turn him down. "I don’t think that’s a good idea, Xavier. I’m… I’ve got a lot on my plate right now." You forced a smile trying to show him that you didn’t mean to upset him. 

His smile faltered, a flicker of disappointment passing across his face. He nodded stiffly, his forced smile not reaching his eyes. 'Yeah, I figured. It’s fine.' The words were casual, but the silence that followed felt like a weight pressing down on both of you.

Just as the conversation threatened to fall into an even deeper awkwardness, Tara returned, oblivious to the tension between you and Xavier. She sat down with the coffees, flashing you both her usual bright smile. "Alright, let’s change the subject! No more mission talk. How about we discuss literally anything else?"

You smiled, but it felt like a mask - one Tara didn’t seem to notice, though Xavier might have. The warmth of the café felt alien compared to the storm inside you, a reminder of how far removed you were from this comfortable, ordinary world. How long could you keep pretending everything was normal?

The rustic charm of the café, the flickering candlelight, the soft jazz—everything felt jarringly out of sync with the churning inside of you. As if the world was moving on, oblivious, while you were sinking deeper into something you couldn’t explain or stop.

Sylus felt the absence of your usual shadow almost instantly. That persistent presence - always there, watching, hovering just at the edge of his awareness - had become almost... expected. For a hunter you sure were interesting. There was something about the way you moved, the way your gaze seemed to linger just a little too long, that had started to... interest him. 

He found the empty space you’d left behind strangely grating. He told himself it was only curiosity - a predator missing familiar prey. And yet, the thought of your absence itched at him, unsettling in ways he hadn’t expected. 

He found himself restless, a slow irritation building within him as he moved through his daily routine. Where were you?

“Boss, there’s been no sighting of the Miss Hunter for two days in the N109 zone,” Luke said, his voice breaking through the silence. The twins hung in the doorway of Sylus’ office, far too nervous to go inside. He’d been more volatile than usual with your sudden disappearance. “Shall we keep looking or…”

Sylus leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him as he contemplated your absence. For a moment, he considered simply letting it go. You were just another hunter, after all. But something about this situation gnawed at him. The last time he’d seen you, you’d killed a man to protect him and then seemingly horrified by your own actions, spiralled. He knew you were alive, of course, Mephisto’s only job recently was keeping track of you and relaying the footage to his master. But why had you abruptly left the N109 zone? Why had you abandoned your mission, him? It was puzzling.

“Keep watch,” Sylus murmured, his gaze sliding to the surveillance feed on the screen before him. He watched the live footage of your apartment with rapt attention, trying to figure out the mystery that was you. 

It was on the first evening that his attention became firmly fixed on you, his business meetings all but forgotten. There you were, sitting at your small dining table, a single plate of food untouched in front of you, your gaze fixed on something across the room. Sylus leaned closer to the screen, eyes narrowing as he followed the direction of your stare.

The pinboard. His face, his movements, his operations - everything you had gathered about him was pinned up in meticulous detail. But it wasn’t the board itself that drew Sylus’ attention. No, it was the way you stared at it, like you were seeing something more, something deeper than just the details of a mission. The way your fingers traced over one of his photographs, lingering on the lines of his jaw, the shape of his lips.

He watched as you lifted your glass, sipping at the wine while your eyes never left his picture.

“Interesting,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes glinting with amusement. 

He’d watched as you paced back and forth, clearly torn between your loyalty to the Hunter’s Association and something else that gnawed at your mind. His lips quirked into a small smirk when you grew frustrated and stabbed your fork into your dinner, then abandoned it.

Watching you slump against the wall, arms wrapped around yourself as if you were holding back something darker, sent a strange thrill through him. There was a breaking point coming, and he found himself leaning closer, caught by the intensity of it.

He’d seen the same look in others before, but there was something about watching you go through it that tugged at him, a pull he couldn’t explain. He knew you were battling more than just the mission - there was something else, something darker simmering under the surface. It made his pulse race in anticipation.

You were strong though, that much was clear and Sylus could almost hear the cogs turning in your brain. You’d seemed to have made a decision of a kind, nodding firmly and then retiring to your bedroom.

By the next day, his irritation had settled into anticipation, curiosity pulling him back to the feed as if by instinct.

Things had been different. He watched you through Mephisto’s eyes as you met with your friends - Tara and that man, Xavier. Sylus was fine at first but the more he watched the more he grew to dislike the blonde boy sitting across from you. How he stared intently at you and acted like he knew you so well. Sylus mused to himself ‘if only Xavier knew what was really on your mind’. He grew to hate the way Xavier looked at you, that sense of familiarity. 

Eventually, it became all to clear that Xavier had feelings for you, the poor fool had an unsettlingly easy to read face. That, coupled with the way he got too close to you, pissed Sylus off. An unexpected possessiveness twisted low in his gut as he watched Xavier lean closer, speaking to you with a familiarity Sylus found grating. And when he saw that telltale smirk on Xavier’s face - the one that told him exactly what was coming - his fingers had drummed a rhythm of irritation against the desk.

Xavier had asked you on a solo dinner. Just the two of you? A date? 

The audacity. Sylus' teeth had clenched, anger pulsing just beneath the surface. How dare he? Xavier, with his hopeful smile and thinly-veiled intentions, dared to make a move on you. For a split second, Sylus’ mind wandered to thoughts of teaching Xavier a lesson - a harsh reminder of who was in control. Perhaps he could meet him in a dark alley, where no one would hear the crack of bones or the gasps of pain. Sylus pulled himself back, clearing his thoughts. No, that was irrational.

But still... when you turned Xavier down, a wave of satisfaction had rolled over him. Sylus’ lips had curled into a smirk as he watched the way you dismissed the offer with an air of indifference, your voice calm and uninterested. You had just rejected Xavier - but he wished that you had crushed any hope he had in a single breath instead. Still, he was almost proud of you in that moment. And yet, what pleased Sylus most was the flicker of something else in your eyes. It wasn’t just disinterest - it was disgust. You hadn’t wanted Xavier at all.

By the time the third evening had rolled around, Sylus had nearly decided to call off Mephisto's surveillance. You were no longer a threat, he reasoned. The intensity from your first day off had dulled, and you had seemingly returned to your usual routine. You’d seemed to have no intention of returning to the N109 zone. He was about to turn away from the feed, his fingers hovering over the button to recall Mephisto, when something unexpected caught his eye.

He leaned forward, narrowing his gaze as the screen displayed a familiar sight - you, sitting in your apartment, your eyes locked on the TV. The candle light bathed your body in a warm glow and Sylus would admit that these were his favourite moments of the surveillance on you. The way you relaxed in your own home, wearing your everyday clothing or even better, like tonight, your pyjamas. Shorts that were so short he could see the way your ass hung out of them. A little silky strappy top that did nothing to hide your breasts, or the way your nipples pebbled in the night's chilly air. He felt his trousers grow tighter at the image of you.

But tonight, he noticed something different, something that sent a thrill through him - you were watching him. Not his movements, not his tactics, just him. The screen displayed an image he knew well - himself, seated at his desk from weeks ago, pouring over a pile of documents. The footage was mundane, unremarkable. Yet, you seemed transfixed, the look in your eyes more private than anything he’d seen before.

He leaned in closer to the screen as he watched, riveted, as your expression softened, your lips parting ever so slightly, gaze lingering on his image as though he were something more than prey to you. The realisation sent a surge of satisfaction through him. 

Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, your hand began to move, dragging down your body and toying with the waistband of your underwear.

His breath caught as he saw your hand drift to the hem of your shorts, fingers tracing idly, your gaze never leaving the screen. Interesting, he thought, his eyes darkening as he leaned forward. What began as an absent touch turned intentional, your hand slipping beneath the waistband, a small, almost imperceptible sigh escaping your parted lips. Sylus felt a spark of heat surge through him, more intense than he’d expected.

You shifted on the couch, shorts sliding lower, exposing the soft curve of your hips in the candlelight. He watched, captivated, as you gave yourself over to the moment, oblivious to the world beyond that screen. Your fingers teased along the edges of your underwear, movements delicate, almost tentative - until your resolve broke.

Heat flushed through him and his cock grew hard at the sight of you. Sylus' breath hitched, eyes darkening as he watched you succumb to your desires, fingers moving in sync with the rhythm of the footage on screen. The way you were completely lost in the moment, oblivious to everything else, sent a thrill racing down his spine. You wanted him and that thought drove him crazy. 

He watched as your movements became more intense and then with a practised ease you pulled down your shorts. He could see the way your pussy glistened in the candle light. You were wet. Wet for him.

He could see your gasp as you played with your clit. It was mesmerising to see how you toyed with your own body, clearly well experienced with bringing yourself pleasure. 

Sylus used his Evol to close and lock his office door ensuring his and your privacy in this intimate moment. He didn’t want anyone else to see the way you bared yourself for him. 

His jaw tightened as he took in the scene, the heat in his own body mirroring yours. Without breaking his stare, he reached down, freeing himself from the confines of his trousers, his breath steady but deep as he matched his movements to yours, never taking his eyes from the screen.

Your head fell back against the cushions, eyes half-lidded, lips parted in an unguarded gasp. The candlelight traced over your exposed skin. His grip tightened, the intensity in his gaze growing sharper as he watched you, imagining your hands replaced by his own, feeling your skin, your heat, your desperation. 

Legs spread wide on the couch, your wet pussy was completely at the mercy of his hungry gaze. Your fingers rubbing your clit torturously slowly. He groaned as he thumbed at the top of his cock, smearing his precum over the head and down the shaft to ease his strokes. 

His eyes had drifted closed for barely a moment before snapping open, irritated with himself. He didn’t want to miss a single detail, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that left him as exposed as you were. The sight that greeted him made him nearly lose control. Your fingers were stuffed inside your pussy, thrusting in and out as your thumb stayed firmly against your clit. You looked tight and he felt his dick twitch in his hand and groaned loudly. Your strappy top had fallen down, becoming almost useless and your breasts completely visible. God, you looked perfect for him, like a sin. 

He picked up the pace on his cock in time with the thrusting of your fingers, imagining it was him stuffing your pretty pussy with his cock instead. Fuck! Your face, your figure, your tits and of course that pussy. He desperately wanted a taste, you’d be sweet he just knew it. 

A low, primal sound escaped his throat as you pushed your fingers deeper, your thumb grazing along your skin with a rhythm that matched his own pace. He could nearly feel your movements, the way your body would tense beneath his touch. He matched each of your breaths, the controlled rhythm dissolving as his grip tightened, his eyes tracing the way your body arched. God he wished he could hear you. 

His cock was painfully ready for release but he held back, he wanted to cum at the same time as you. No, he needed to. To see the way your face would flush and your expression would shift. 

You were close, he could tell that much, your movements focused entirely on your pleasure, no longer teasing at all. You bit your lip hard and Sylus wished that he could take its place. That you would bite his lip so viciously. Just a few more thrusts of your fingers inside you and your thumb moving over your clit and that was it. You were cumming. Your hips moving uncontrollably and your pussy clenching around your fingers. You threw your head back and he wished he could hear the way you moans pounded. Maybe he would have to plant a bug in your apartment for next time.

 He fought to keep his composure as you came undone, your body arching, but the sight of you, looking so beautiful as you came, was his undoing. He moved faster, his hand tracing the length of himself as he watched you unravel, imagining the heat of your skin, the sound of your voice, and the feel of you clenching around him.

As you finally stilled, your breaths slowing, he let himself fall over the edge, his own release spilling over his hand. He bit back the groan that rose in his throat, a deep satisfaction flooding through him as he watched you sink back against the cushions, unaware of how intimately he’d shared this moment with you.

He looked at you on the screen and nearly lost his control at the sight of you sucking on your fingers. It was so unexpected and dangerously erotic. He watched as you stood up on shaky legs and headed into the bathroom before cleaning himself up and stuffing him back into his trousers. The shirt would have to be dry cleaned. 

A deep, satisfied chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned back, a dark resolve settling over him. This, he realised, was only the beginning. He would give you exactly what you wanted - and more. Even if you didn't know what that meant for yourself.

➽──────────────────────────────────❥

Chapter 3 is here! Please let me know what you think  ❥ Like, reblog, comment, message me, ask me something, literally anything - I live for your feedback on this  ❥

[corpseri]

Hiii pookie😈🙏 I want to request a dion x reader smut either him being a vampire or a monster also I finished rereading your series already I need more dion fics😘💋

VAMPIRE!DION SMUT — 18+ MINORS DNI

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Although I'm not a huge fan of writing smut, I feel as though it is my sworn duty as a member of this dying fandom to deliver

the moon hung heavy in the sky, its pale light filtering through the curtains of your bedroom. the air was thick with the scent of night blooms, but it wasn’t the flowers that made your heart race. it was him.

his presence was unmistakable, even before you heard the soft creak of the floorboards. you could feel him — feel the way the air shifted, the way your skin prickled with awareness. he was here, and you knew exactly what he wanted.

“still awake, little one?” dion’s voice was low, smooth as velvet, and it sent shivers down your spine. you turned to face him, your breath catching in your throat. he stood in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the dim light. his crimson eyes glowed faintly, a predatory gleam that made your stomach twist with desire.

“i couldn’t sleep,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

he stepped into the room, moving with the grace of a predator stalking its prey. the faintest smile played on his lips, and you could see the tips of his fangs glinting in the moonlight.

you never stood a chance.

“good,” he purred, his voice dripping with dark promise. “because i have no intention of letting you rest tonight.”

your lover was on you in an instant, his hands pinning your wrists above your head as he pressed his body against yours. his lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “you’ve been teasing me all day,” he growled, his voice rough with hunger. “do you know what that does to me?”

you whimpered, your body already responding to his touch. his grip was firm, unyielding, and it sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you. “i’m sorry,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure if you meant it.

dion chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that made your toes curl. “oh, you’re going to be,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck. “but first, you’re going to make it up to me.”

his mouth found the sensitive spot just below your ear, and you gasped as his fangs grazed your skin. he didn’t bite — not yet — but the threat was there, lurking just beneath the surface. you knew he could taste your fear, your excitement, and it only seemed to fuel his desire.

“please,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need.

he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze burning with intensity. “please what?” he demanded, his voice sharp and commanding. “tell me what you want. say it.”

you swallowed hard, your mind racing as you tried to find the words. “i want you, dion” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “i want you to take me… please,”

his eyes darkened, and for a moment, you thought he might lose control. but then he smirked, that damnable smirk that always left you feeling both terrified and aroused. “good girl,” he murmured, his voice dripping with approval. “but you’re going to have to do better than that.”

his hands moved to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he flipped you onto your stomach. you barely had time to gasp before he was on you again, his body pressing you into the mattress. his lips brushed against your ear, his voice a low, menacing growl. “you’re mine,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “and tonight, i’m going to remind you just how much you belong to me.”

you shuddered, your body already trembling with anticipation. his hands moved with a purpose, stripping away your clothes with practiced ease. when he finally reached between your thighs, you couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped your lips.

“so wet already,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “you’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?”

you nodded, your face burning with shame even as your body betrayed you. “yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

he chuckled, a dark, dangerous sound that sent shivers down your spine. “good,” he purred, his fingers teasing you with agonizing slowness. “because i’ve been thinking about this all day too.”

his fingers dipped inside you, and you gasped as pleasure shot through your body. he worked you with a practiced ease, his touch sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you. but just as you were on the edge, he pulled away, leaving you desperate and trembling.

“please,” you begged, your voice breaking with need. “please, i need you.”

he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “really?” 

“i want you inside me,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. “i want you to fuck me,”

his eyes darkened, and for a moment, you thought he might lose control.

his hands moved to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you up onto your knees. you barely had time to gasp before you felt him behind you, his body pressing against yours. his lips brushed against your ear, his voice a low, menacing growl. “you’re mine,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “and tonight, i’m going to remind you just how much you belong to me.”

you shuddered, your body already trembling with anticipation. dion’s hands moved with a purpose, gripping your hips as he positioned himself at your entrance. when he finally pushed inside, you couldn’t hold back the cry that escaped your lips.

“fuck,” he hissed, his voice rough with pleasure as he buried himself deep inside you. 

he started slow, his movements deliberate and controlled. but it wasn’t long before he lost all semblance of restraint, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, more desperate. you could feel him everywhere, his body pressing you into the mattress, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

“you’re mine,” he growled, his voice a low, menacing growl. “say it.”

“i’m yours,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need. “i’m yours, i’m yours, i’m yours.”

he chuckled, a dark, dangerous sound that sent shivers down your spine. 

his breath was hot against your ear, his chest pressing into your back as he hovered over you, his dominance radiating like a storm cloud ready to burst. you felt his hand leave your hip, his fingers curling around your wrists in one swift, effortless motion. before you could react, he flipped you onto your back, pinning your arms above your head with one hand, his grip firm but not painful. not yet.

his other hand found your throat, his long fingers wrapping around it with a possessive ease that made your heart race. you could feel the coolness of his skin against your heated flesh, a stark contrast that sent a ripple of anticipation through you. his eyes glowed like embers in the dark, predatory and unyielding, and his lips curled into a wicked smile as his fangs glinted in the moonlight.

“i’m going to mark you again, little one,” he purred, his voice low and dripping with dark promise. his thumb brushed over your pulse, feeling it quicken under his touch, and he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your neck. “but first, i want to hear you beg.”

you swallowed hard, his grip tightening ever so slightly as if to remind you of his control. the pressure wasn’t enough to hurt, but it was enough to make your body tremble, your legs instinctively parting wider for him. his hips pressed against yours, and you could feel him hard and ready, the heat of his desire making your own ache deepen.

“please,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. it wasn’t enough for him, and he knew it. his fangs grazed your neck, a teasing scrape that made you gasp, and his tongue flicked out to taste your skin.

“louder,” he demanded, his voice a dark growl that sent a shiver down your spine. his free hand slipped between your legs, his fingers brushing over your slick folds with a precision that made your breath hitch. “i want to hear how much you need me.”

“please,” you moaned, your hips arching into his touch. “please, i need you. i need you so much.”

he chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that vibrated through you as his fingers dipped inside, curling in a way that made your toes curl. 

you could feel the heat building inside you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. his pace was brutal, his hips slamming into yours with a force that made the bed creak beneath you. his fangs grazed your neck again, this time harder, and you whimpered, your body trembling with a mix of fear and desire.

he smirked before sinking his fangs into your neck. the pain was sharp but fleeting, quickly replaced by a wave of pleasure that made your body convulse. his grip on your throat tightened slightly, and you could feel him drinking from you, the sensation both intimate and overwhelming.

his hips never slowed, the relentless pace driving you closer to the edge until you were teetering on the brink, your body tightening around him. he released your throat, his hand moving to your hip to pull you even closer, and his lips brushed against your ear.

“come for me,” he commanded, his voice a low growl that made your entire body shudder. “let me feel you.”

his words were all it took to send you over the edge, your body clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. he didn’t stop, his thrusts growing harder, more erratic, until he finally stilled, his hips pressing into yours as he spilled himself inside you.

for a moment, the only sound in the room was the ragged rhythm of your breathing, your bodies still connected as he hovered over you, his glowing eyes locked onto yours. his hand released your wrists, and he brushed a strand of hair out of your face, his touch surprisingly gentle.

“mine,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm, and you nodded, your body still trembling from the intensity of it all. his. always his.

[partiallysame]

thank you x1000 for the hand smooches and thank you for walking with me on that one!!! i fear i will be holding your hand hostage for the foreseeable future though bc i am OBSESSED with tattoo artist!simon

oooooh i just know simon felt weak in the knees at the “yes sir”. absolutely adorable how simon is this big scary military man to just about everyone else but he’s a nervous mess (internally) about tattooing you.

fun fact: i used to be a receptionist at a tattoo & piercing shop so there are moments in here that really made me giggle bc i’ve experienced them first hand. like simon spilling the tea (no pun intended) on johnny getting a smaller less detailed tattoo in a similar spot and damn near screaming bloody murder about it is so accurate. i remember a guy coming in to get a chest piece done and he was talking big shit to his girl on the phone about “yeah it’s just a black and white chest piece…nah babe i’m sitting through the whole thing so it’ll only be one session.” not 20 minutes later this man is squeezing the arms of the chair so tight they’re creaking and the artist has to stop several times to have him sit up and drink something (we had to give him a pop out of the paid shop refrigerator) bc he was about to pass out. needless to say he only got the outline done that day. meanwhile one of the other artists had a lady come in armed with a plushie and a blanket to get a sternum/under boob chandelier piece and she yapped with the artist for the entire session. they finished in one session and only stopped for a lunch break and for the artist to stretch. feeling the artist’s body heat through the glove is also very real. i’m starting to wonder if running hot is a requirement to be a tattoo artist bc istg all of mine have all felt like furnaces

it’s such a small thing but i also loved that you mentioned that reader felt comfortable with simon unlike the bad vibes they’d gotten from previous artists. some tattoo artists definitely get a big head and start thinking they’re hot shit and above abiding by social decency and respecting boundaries. they can get handsy (moreso than what the tattoo calls for), make uncomfortable and/or rude comments about your body, and just behave in an overall unprofessional manner just bc they think the type of job they have excuses shitty predatory behavior. so i love that simon makes reader feel comfortable and at ease in his chair.

johnny being a menace/gremlin is just canon in every universe and i love it

sorry i always send you the longest asks known to mankind 😅 but i did need to wax poetic about tattoo artist!simon for a minute bc 😮‍💨🤤🤪

I love the idea of tattoo artist!simon and have def thought about all of the 141s being artists. I live in their shop in my head

Ok let me flex the way one of my artists looks (with his consent) bc he’s 6’4 and giant and gives me Simon and Johnny vibes by his looks. Plus he tattooed me high hip and he asked if he could move me and mans lifted my whole body up to shift me and I was trying to keep the horny in big time when he did. This is him and he gives off you’re safe with me vibes even if the person next to him doesn’t this man has GOT you

But also yesss it’s like tattoo artist common knowledge at this point that men sit awful and women can take the pain sooooo much better. As a tatted up girl I’ve def had all the experiences with the shitty behaved artists or my friends have

[violetsiren90]

Pairing: dom!Hoseok/sub/brat!f!Reader

Genre: Oneshot; hard smut (eventual fluff 😂); BDSM lifestyle; friends to fwb to?; canon-compliant (idolAU)

Summary: You've been friends with Hobi for years, and he's your comfort zone - but when he gets wind of a dark secret you drunkenly let slip, things between you take a sudden extreme change.

Warnings: 18+ (minors, dni); hardcore BDSM themes/relationships; full consent and safe-words ❤; Hobi is a hard dom; MC is a brat (mostly); dominance and submission; elements of primal play; sexual degradation (deg-play use of the word "b*tch"); mentions of MC's hair and hair pulling; rough physical contact in a sexual context (manhandling); mentions of drinking; kink-outing; Jimin is a menace lol; Hobi in the studio 👀 (The full oneshot will come with more specific warnings - a looooong list lol)

Mood board here! ⛓🖤

Release date: Christmas? 🎄

Author's note: Hey, y'all! I am catapulting out of my comfort zone with this one and, honestly, having the time of my life. I've been in my Hobi era lately and when the concept of dom!Hobi possessed my mind I knew I'd have to write it out or else. 😅😂 I hope to pop this under your trees around Christmas! Hope you enjoy the teaser, and as always, if no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

Also, a big thank you to @orchidyoonkook for beta reading this - you are the real MVP! 💕

If you want to be alerted via the tag list for this when it drops, let me know!

_______________________________________________

  "What?" Hoseok's wide grin stretches further as he regards your flustered face with giddy anticipation.

    You groan into your hands, willing the cushions of your friend's leather couch to swallow you like quicksand.

    "Fucking Jimin - I'll kill him!" you whine, pressing your fingers to your temples, and keeping your eyes glued to the hardwood of the studio floor.

    The rapper laughs as he swivels his baseball cap to sit backwards on his fluffy brown mop of hair. 

    "Come on! Tell me!" he insists, sprawling back in his rolling chair, the tips of his fingers touching deviously together as he regards you with twinkling eyes. 

    You sneak a glance at him before sighing defeatedly, which only earns another chortle of laughter from across the room.

    Park fucking Jimin. You really were going to kill him. Too many bottles of soju the week prior saw you blacking out at the BTS member's pad, the one he shared with your mutual friend, Jung Hoseok. You woke up the next day, memories of the night before obscure concepts of debauchery merely alluded to by the taste of bile and the dull cranial throb of dehydration. When Jimin rather gleefully handed you, along with an iced americano, one of the booze-fueled revelations you had let slip, you begged and pleaded with him to erase the memory from his brain...or at the very least to take it to his grave. He made no such promises. And now, you are facing the man of the hour - the subject of your divulgement - who had apparently been informed that you harbored certain strong opinions in his regard. Humiliating.

    You flick mildly irritated eyes back up to your friend who waggles his brows in a way that makes you want to crack a smile and sock him at the same time.

    "Before I say anything, I want to know exactly what he told you," you demand, crossing your arms defensively, no cracked smile to be found.

    He rolls his eyes up to the corner of the ceiling in recollection.

    "He just said that you had gotten wasted and admitted something kinky...about me." 

    At the last two words he drops his voice dramatically low and pins you with a grin that is sickeningly predatory. Your pulse begins to hammer and you have to remind yourself that you are, in fact, capable of speech. Fuck, you think to yourself, it's happening. You can feel sweat starting to bead at your hairline. Maybe if you get it out there, just say it aloud, it will lose its power. Maybe the spell will be broken. Maybe he will laugh and you will laugh and you'll order lunch and keep irritating him while he's supposed to be working on a track. You're both adults, right? You whoosh out a breath. 

    Hobi is still looking at you, his bottom lip pushing up and the corners of his mouth tugging down in one of his little inverted smirks while his right leg bounces a little up and down. It is just Hobi, after all, you tell yourself. Just Hobi. You are roundly aware that it may be a lie, but it seems to allow you just enough courage to jump.

    "Okay, okay!" you practically shout, and he giggles and stomps his feet, which admittedly makes revealing this particular chestnut a bit easier.

    "I told him...I said..."

    "What?"

    "Oh, Christ! Fine!" And the rest comes out like water from a fire hose. "One time I came to drop off Jimin's charger and you were in dance practice and you were watching the guys and you had this look on your face - like you were pissed or something - and it was so unlike you and I got turned on and ended up having a fucking wet dream that you were stepping on my mother-fucking pussy, okay?! Are you satisfied now?!"

    You heave a sigh and throw yourself back against the cushions, hands over your face. How you just mustered the courage to form those actual words you haven't even the faintest notion - but it was going to be you or Jimin, and it might as well be you. After your heart has begun to return to its resting rate and you've heaved a few deep breaths you steel yourself against the certain impending onslaught of Hobi's laughter and general mockery...which doesn't come. You peek through your fingers to see that your friend has shifted in his chair, facing a bit away from you toward the inside of the room, leaning forward, his hands gripping the ends of the chair's armrests. His face looks a little troubled, or pensive, you can't tell which. You sit up and really look at him, suddenly worried. Did you just fuck things irrevocably up? That was an incredibly bizarre and intimate thing to admit. Shit.

    "Hobi?" you squeak, barely over a whisper, as you regard him.

    He tilts his head suddenly to look at you, quick like a bird, and when those dark eagle-eyes regard you in return, you feel like a small, helpless creature scurrying across the tundra. Nowhere to hide. A bead of sweat escapes its perch and slips down from your temple. As he utters his question of response, the air suddenly becomes as thick as the tropics.

    "Is that something that you'd want, Y/n? To be treated like that? To be...put in your place? Put down?"

    You don't answer him. You can't. Your words, your breath, your coherent thoughts are stuck, inert, useless as your chest begins to rapidly rise and fall in heavy swells. Your eyes are locked on his face as if by magnetic force. He stands, his baggy Louis Vuitton tee falling over his grey sweats. He shoves his hands in the pockets and takes a step toward where you sit. His posture is relaxed. His gaze is anything but.

    "Is it?"

    You want to say you don't know. That you'd never considered it again. Never once recalled the image of it - of him -  standing over you as the sole of his shoe punished your throbbing sex.

    "Fuck..." you breathe, and when he doesn't take his eyes from your squirming form, you relent. "...y-yeah."

    He takes another step toward you, slowly. He's crowding you now, as he looks down, and the proximity is almost more than you can bare.

    "You see," he remarks musingly, "I thought you were gonna say something funny - something ridiculous," he tilts his head to one side, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips, "But that's not funny, Y/n. No, that's not funny at all. Because, as it turns out..."

    He leans down, his breath fanning over your face as he speaks. Mint and espresso. You shiver and close your eyes.

    "...that's something I can do."

...what? He can...h-he can....

    "Hoseok..." you whisper shakily, because it's all you can manage.

    You hear him laugh darkly and you don't look at him.

    "Hoseok?" he mimics, "Not, Hobi, huh? Hoseok when you're like this, is it?" 

    "When I'm like...what?" You practically whimper in complaint, eyes still pressed shut as your last line of defense.

    But any manner of defense is in vain as he answers your query, the words dripping from his lips slowly like honey, sickly like venom - 

    "When you're a filthy pathetic little slut."

    A whine escapes you at the complete and utter shock of his words. Suddenly you clamp your thighs together (to provide friction or obscurity to your quickly dampening cunt you are unsure), and that's when he takes your jaw between his fingers and roughly jerks your chin upwards, your eyes fluttering frantically open. 

    "Is this what you want?" he hisses, "For me to have my way with you like a needy whore?" Fuck, is this happening? This is really happening. Your mind reels, but that's alright - it stopped doing the thinking when he got up out of that chair. Something primal in you had taken over, something that's been starving for so long, something that longs to feed.

    You do your best to nod with your chin in his grip. He swallows thickly, his eyes darting to your lips, and then back up to yours. His pupils are blown, his eyes almost wholly black as they trace over your face. Suddenly his hand slips from your chin to the nape of your neck where his hand tangles in your hair and his head drops to the side, his gaze softening.

    "I need you to say it, Y/n, are you sure you want to do this?" he asks, his voice so, so low but without the edge that sends ice through your veins. His voice. He's asking you as someone who cares about you, cares what you want - your friend. Do you want this? No...you don't want it. You need it.

    "Yes - yes, Hobi - I want this," you find yourself stumbling over the words to get them out.

    So quickly and so assured. Have you ever been this certain of anything in your life? His fingers dance against the nape of your neck and you sigh as his eyes travel all over your body. You want to hide. You want to strip down. You want to run and you want him to chase you. You want him to punish you when he catches you. You are sick with want.  

    "A safe word, baby, we need a safe word," he nudges your racing mind back into the current moment with his words.

    You blink, your mind running up against the sudden saccharine pet name (which he has admittedly called you before) as it scrambles for something obvious and yet not ridiculous.     Something simple maybe...a flower...?

    "Foxglove," you say, and he raises his brows with a grin.

    "Foxglove it is," he acquiesces. "So if you ever want me to stop, ever - okay? You say that. Foxglove." 

    You nod.

    "Say it for me," he whispers, you shiver again. Fuck.

    "Foxglove." It's slow and thick leaving your mouth.

    "Good girl," he purrs. Butterflies erupt in your rib-cage and your eyelids flutter. "How hard do you want it?" He asks, "How rough?"

    You scramble to find your voice.

    "Pretty rough, I think," you posit, a bit unsure of what that means.

    He hums in response, his brows knitting in thought. You were going to have to give him something to go on, you could see that.

    "I..." you stammer, "I want you to...to punish me. I want you to...to hurt me a little."

    He raises a brow - looks at you, just stares as if considering. Then suddenly you know what to say.

    "See...I'm not a good girl," you insist tilting your head back a bit haughtily, a bit defiantly. Being a good girl had gotten you butterflies, but that's not what you wanted right now. That's not what every cell of your body was screaming for.

     He's grinning wickedly again - his other hand is slipping out of his pocket and the one in your hair is gripping at the roots.

    "Hm. You're not are you?" he asks, his voice as dark and cold as the Pacific once again.

    "No, Hobi," you whisper. And suddenly your world is tilted on its axis as he tightens his fingers against your scalp and yanks your head back, sending a searing pain shooting through your skin as he stoops to hiss in your ear.

    "That's Hoseok, you pretty little bitch."

    You let out a whimper so needy it's nearly a sob. Your heartbeat is pounding between your legs. He lets go of your hair as roughly as he grabbed it and goes to lock the door and your stomach flips - you are totally and completely at his mercy. It's a little bit terrifying and completely exhilarating. When he comes to loom over you again, you decide just exactly where you stand in all this. You know exactly what you want. You glare up at him. He narrows his eyes.

    "You gonna listen, hm?"

It's not a question, you know it's not - it's a command. But you have one, just one, of your own...

    "Make me."

[dhorrl]

Conquering No Nut November

Katsuki/Reader

Content/Trigger Warning: Um... edging, overstimulating, spanking, praise/degradation, a lot of cussing, some CNC vibes if you squint, maybe some more, you've been warned.

Katsuki had always prided himself on his self-control. He believed that he could conquer any challenge that came his way, whether it was in his training as a hero or in his personal life.

So when Eijiro and Denki suggested the infamous 'No Nut November' challenge, he scoffed at the idea. It was just another silly trend, and it couldn't be that hard.

The first few days were easy. Katsuki was used to pushing himself to the limit, and denying himself pleasure was just another challenge to conquer.

But as the days went by, he struggled more than he ever thought he would. It wasn't like he enjoyed denying himself pleasure, it was agonizing. Everywhere he looked, there seemed to be reminders of what he couldn't have.

And you...you seemed to take great pleasure in teasing him. You would wear his oversized t-shirts or your Dynamight-themed pajama pants around the house, purposely brushing against him as you passed by. You would even crawl into bed with him at night, whispering dirty words in his ear and sending shivers down his spine.

Katsuki's leg bounced furiously as he anxiously watched the seconds tick by on his phone, his eyes darting between you and the clock. You were sound asleep next to him, unaware of the restless beast lying beside you.

As the clock struck midnight, Katsuki shook you awake with a sudden force, causing you to jolt up in shock. "What the hell, Katsuki? I have work tomorrow," you groaned, rubbing your bleary eyes. You noticed the predatory gleam in his eyes and laughed, a mistake you would later regret.

With a vicious grin, Katsuki leaned down and whispered in your ear, "I already called your boss and told him you won't be in tomorrow." Your eyes widened; you knew you were fucked right then and there.

Katsuki pinned your wrists above your head with one hand while using his body to hold you down. You could feel the weight and strength of his muscles as they pressed against yours, sending tingles through your body.

"You're gonna make up for every second I spent waiting for tonight, princess. And if you try to close those pretty thighs of yours, I swear I'll tie you up and make you regret for it," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "Now, are you gonna be a good girl?" His scarlet eyes held a fierceness that left no room for argument.

The sudden change in Katsuki's demeanor startled you, but it also made your thighs clench. He had always been dominant and possessive, but this was on a whole other level. Your body couldn't deny its response as wetness pooled between your legs at his commanding presence.

With a shaky breath, you nodded in agreement. Katsuki chuckled darkly, pleased with your submission, before trailing kisses down your neck and toward your chest.

In a swift motion, he tore through your shirt and exposed your bare breasts, his pupils dilating as he took in every detail before lowering his head to take one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucked greedily while his free hand massaged and pinched the other one. You gasped, arching your back to him. Katsuki gave a low growl of satisfaction before switching sides and lavishing the same attention onto the other breast.

While his tongue was at work, he moved his hand down between your legs. He shoved your panties to the side, his fingers teasing around your entrance before sliding inside of you without warning. Your back arched further as he started pumping them in and out of you at a steady pace.

"That's it, get yourself so fuckin' wet for me. Can't wait to bury my dick inside your sweet, dripping pussy," his sat back on his haunches, his eyes glued to your slick folds as they sucked in his thick fingers.

"Fuck..." You muttered under your breath as Katsuki worked his magic inside of you. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to release already. Katsuki usually loved this part, watching you fall apart under him, but instead, he pulled his fingers out of you and slid his black boxers off before positioning himself between your legs.

"Here's how this is gonna go. You don't get to come until I say so, no matter how much you beg," his was voice a husky whisper that was almost terrifying. "Every complaint, every tear, I'm just gonna make it harder for you. I'm going to edge you to fuckin' oblivion. And if you think the furniture's gonna survive the night, well, you're in for a rough surprise. Say it; tell me you understand."

He gave you a stern look before leaning down and capturing your lips again, pulling at it aggressively with his teeth. You nodded your head, and despite everything, you both knew this was what you had wanted all along, to push him over the edge into a frenzy. "I'm sorry, I'll be good... I promise I won't cum..."

With your promise hanging in the hair, he thrusts into you with a force that rattles the bed frame, the first of many blows to come, his hips moving against yours slowly at first but gradually picking up speed as he buries himself deep inside of you.

"Shit! Those fuckheads were right, this is gonna get intense as fuck." He pushes your thighs further apart, watching the way your cunt swallows his cock. "You're gonna get it as hard as you can handle, and then some."

He pulled back almost all the way, before slamming into you again and again, feeling the pressure building hard and fast; thirty days of starving for your touch had finally reaching its peak. His nails dug into the flesh of your hips, his whole body tensing as he shot hot ropes of cum inside you, his eyes going cross at the first of many releases.

"Look what you fuckin' do to me," he grunts, his hips never stopping their movements. "Making me cum like some fuckin' virgin."

You cried out under him, trying to hold back your own orgasm despite his relentless thrusts. But you couldn't resist as he pushed you to the edge, tears streaming down your face as you screamed and apologized. Your body betrayed you, tightening around him.

"I'm sorry, no. I'm sorry, I'm cumming... fuck, fuck, fuck!" Your orgasm washing over you despite his demand. Through it all, his eyes burned with a dangerous mix of emotions - rage, satisfaction, and possessiveness.

"You little—" Katsuki's growl rumbles from deep within his chest as he feels your inner walls contract around him. "I told you not to cum," he hisses, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.

Yet, he can't help the depraved satisfaction that courses through him at your disobedience. Your body's betrayal is his ultimate triumph. He doesn't relent, not even for a moment.

With a fierce grip, he pulls you up against him, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that's more teeth and dominance than tenderness. He devours your moans, swallows your apologies, and when he finally pulls back, a string of saliva connects your panting mouths.

Katsuki bares his teeth into a feral grin, one that is as equally scary as it is arousing. He flips you onto your stomach roughly, your face pressed into the mattress as he pulls your hips up, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. Without warning, his hand comes down hard on your ass, leaving a stinging imprint that quickly turns into a welt. You bite back a sob, knowing that the marks will be there for days.

"You gotta pay for it, princess," he swears, his voice dripping with a dark promise. "You're gonna be so fucked out, you won't even remember what it was like to not feel me inside you."

He thrusts back into you with a renewed hunger, his punishing rhythm designed to be your punishment. Each slam of his hips against your thick ass is a testament to his unyielding dominance.

"Are you sorry now, huh? Are you?" He punctuates each word with a forceful thrust, ensuring you feel the weight of your mistake. His hands grip your hips to reminds you who's in control.

"You're gonna be begging me to let you cum again, and next time, you'll wait for my permission. We clear?" Katsuki's voice cuts through the haze of pleasure and pain, demanding your compliance even as he continues the onslaught that promises to leave you wrecked, raw, and utterly at his mercy.

"You're mine. All fucking mine."

His eyes are filled with fire as he watches you struggle beneath him, your body writhing in a delicious agony of guilty pleasure and frustration. Katsuki's grunts and groans fill the room, a symphony of raw desire that highlights every motion.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours mingled with the wet squelch of his cum mixed with your juices, is a carnal melody that speaks to the animalistic show. "Hear that, babe? Your pussy's so fuckin' greedy for me. It's been starved, and now its devouring me whole."

At least in this position, you thought, he wasn't hitting your now sensitive clit, the cluster of nerves pulsing and aching. Your pussy, however, clutches onto his cock, as if it didn't want to let him go.

"Don't fuckin' tighten up like that without permission," he hissed through his teeth. His hand finds your ass again, another sharp smack resonating through the room, the pain mingling with the pleasure in a heady cocktail that threatens to overwhelm your senses.

"You're gonna learn to follow orders," he breathes out, his breaths coming in ragged bursts as he continues to batter into you. "You're gonna learn the hard way, and you're gonna fuckin' love every second of it."

He snakes a hand around to find your clit, his fingers teasing the swollen nub with a cruel gentleness. He circles it, applying just enough pressure to have you teetering on the edge again, purposefully making his orders nearly impossible.

"Feel that, ya' little shit? That's what you get for being such a tease," he sneers, his words cutting through the fog of your lust. "You're not cumming until I say. You can beg, but you're not getting it. Not yet."

You nearly lost it right there, bordering right on the ledge and gripping the sheets until your knuckles were white when you felt him pull out, flipping you around again and yanking you from the bed.

His hands cupped your ass as he lifted you up and pushed you against the dresser before sliding into you again. The dresser creaks under the assault, the wood splintering with each savage thrust. Katsuki is a force of nature, unstoppable and wild, his grip on your body unyielding as he drives you against the failing furniture.

Your back is pressed against the dresser's cool surface, the hardware digging into your skin like a searing brand. Katsuki's lips find your neck, shoulder, and any skin within reach as he marks you with his teeth and tongue.

With a final, brutal thrust, the dresser gives way, cracked beneath them in a racket of splintering wood. Unfazed, Katsuki easily supports you as he pushes you until your back is against the wall.

"You're doing good, real good," he grunted, his own restraint wavering as he felt the familiar coil of his own climax building within him again. "But remember, you don't get to come. I need to hear you beg for it like your fuckin' life depends on it."

As Katsuki's cock hits that perfect spot, you become a blabbering mess, unable to form coherent thoughts, your entire body tingling as you feel something hitting you, an orgasm like you've never had. Your eyes roll back in your skull, drool dripping down your chin, pleading with him.

"Please, please, Katsuki! I'm so sorry! Let me cum, please, baby. I'm sorry I was mean, but please let me cum," you plead, desperate for permission to let go.

"That's my good girl," he praises, a perverse tenderness lacing his voice even as he fucks into you, unrelenting. "You finally get it, don't you? This is where you belong, under me, taken, and thoroughly fucked."

His broad hands splay over your ass cheeks as he holds you, his arms barely straining under your weight. He feels your body tremble, he can taste the tension in the air.

"You wanna cum so bad, huh? You think you've earned it?" Katsuki taunts, his grip on you tightening as he feels you on the brink.

"Fine. Cum. But when you do, you better scream my name so loud, everyone in this fucking building hears you."

He delivers a few more punishing thrusts before you tip over, watching you unravel, your orgasm tearing through you with the force of a tempest. He joins you in release, his own orgasm roaring through him, a torrent of heat and possession as he marks you from the inside once more.

Even as the waves of your orgasm subside, Katsuki doesn't stop. His stamina is relentless, and he's already hardening inside you again, ready to continue the night's carnage.

He walks back to the bed, throws you across the edge, and slides back into your cunt, his grip unyielding as he continues to claim you, over and over, an endless cycle of pleasure and domination.

Your body trembles and writhes beneath him, your skin slick with a sheen of sweat as he fucks you. Your voice echoes off the walls as you beg for more, for him to take you harder and deeper. He grunts in approval, his grip on your thighs tightening, all his focused on the grip of your slick pussy on his cock.

"Fuck... pussy feels so goddamn good. Was made just for my dick."

The room smells of sex and sweat, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the air. His cock is thick and slick inside of you, hitting all the right spots and sending waves of pleasure through your body. The bed creaks and groans under the pressure, but neither of you care.

As another wave of pleasure crashes over you, he pulls out and pumps his hand up and down his length, his hot cum spilling across your chest in thick spurts.

Breathless and sweaty, he gazed down at you with satisfaction as his cum dripped down your breasts. He leaned down to lick some of it off your skin before trailing kisses down your stomach. "You're so gorgeous," he murmured, his lips hovering over the heat between your legs. With a mischievous grin, he thrust his tongue out and began to lap at your sensitive clit.

"Katsuki! It's too much!" you moaned, but he growled against your flushed skin. He didn't care that you were overwhelmed and covered in his sweat and cum; it only made him want you more.

"I don't give a damn," he said huskily, "I love how you taste. It drives me crazy."

His nails leave red marks on your skin as he keeps you from squirming away, determined to make you come undone beneath him. And when he feels you start to tighten around him, he doubles his efforts, pulling your hips flush with his face and alternating between sucking on your clit and thrusting his tongue into your entrance.

"You wanted to come, so I'm making you come," he purred, his voice dripping with desire. "All over my face, babe, right fucking now!"

He buries his face deeper inside you, using every trick in his arsenal to bring you to the edge of bliss before finally pushing you over it with expert precision. You cry out his name as you come undone, your body shaking and heart racing as he works you like a finely tuned instrument.

Just as you start to come down from your high, he pulls away and looks up at you with a satisfied smirk, relishing in the sight of your glistening skin and glazed eyes.

"You ready for more, babe?" he asks, his tone deceptively gentle as he begins to position you again, his intentions anything but tender. "Cause I've got plenty left for you."

He showed no signs of slowing down as his hands and lips worship at the alter of your body. This was what it meant to be owned by Katsuki, to give yourself over completely to his every desire and whim.

And in this moment, that's exactly where you wanted to be. Completely and utterly his.

~~

Hours later, the room is a war zone of broken furniture and scattered clothes, proof of your untamed debaucheries. Katsuki lies beside you, his breathing slowly evening out as he comes down from the adrenaline high. The sheen of sweat on his muscular form glistens in the early morning sun, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips despite the exhaustion that threatens to pull him under.

You lie next to him, your hand reaching over to lace with his. Your body is slick and the scent of sex hangs heavy in the room. "Katsuki, babe... Not that I didn't enjoy every second of that, but don't ever do 'No Nut November' again. I don't think my birth control can stand up to the amount of cum you just loaded into me."

His chest rumbles with a low, raspy chuckle at your words, and he turns his head to look at you with a mixture of fondness and smugness. His blonde hair is mussed from your earlier activities, and the sheets are tangled around your bodies. "Yeah, no kidding. That was some next-level shit," he admits, a hint of pride laced within his exhaustion. "But it was worth every fuckin' second."

Katsuki slips out of bed, his naked form moving gracefully as he grabs a towel and a warm, wet washcloth. Despite the roughness of your earlier endeavors, his touch is gentle now as he wipes the sweat and remnants of your lovemaking from your skin with a tenderness that belies his usual demeanor.

He carefully presses the damp cloth to your flushed skin and cleans you up, making sure to get every inch of you. His touch lingers on your thighs, stomach, and breasts, gently tracing over the red and purple marks blooming across your skin. "You did good, princess. Took everything I dished out and then some," he says with affection in his voice. "You're fuckin' incredible, you know that?"

He leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips before fetching a glass of water and bringing it to your mouth. His red eyes are attentive, watching you for any sign of discomfort or need.

"Drink up, princess," he coos as the cool liquid soothes your dry throat, "I know your ass needs it after that." His red eyes are fixed on you, making sure you're okay after such an intense session. "I love you," he whispers before pressing another kiss to your forehead and snuggling into bed with you.

"We're not doing that no-nut bullshit again. You're too much of a tease and I'm too much of a beast to hold back for that long," he smirks, pulling you close into his check. As your bodies lie entwined in the aftermath of carnal destruction, his chin rests gently atop your head and his love surrounds you like a protective cocoon.

[lichenes]

Nasty Dog

This one is for @kennedyabraxas123 :D They requested: "idk if u did this maybe like a cute little human doing cute things w a big scary monster and they know that they could kill tjem super easily but they still love them and everything despite the strength/size difference" and ofc I couldn't refuse<3 Nothing like good ol' size difference istg. The monster of choice is a werewolf. If we're going classic, we're going classic. I love running errands with people so I decided this would be a great prompt lol?? IDK I can re-write this if you want kennedy cuz this ain't my best work :3! HOPEFULLY there aren't that many incosistencies dude cuz-

CW: SIZE DIFFERENCE!!!, established relationship, vulnerabilty???, (petnames: little one, lovely), brief mentions of werewolf sex, other than that SFW

wc: 763

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Walking hand in hand with him you couldn’t stop thinking about how lucky you were. Your eyes drifted to him as he scratched his chin. The beautiful fur he was sporting was radiating a pleasant, warm smell and the sun was hitting his form just right to make you fall in love all over again. For a moment you forgot where you were going.

The shop was a short distance away from your house and given the nice weather you decided to take the walk. The streets were bustling with people despite the sun almost setting. The produce you had to buy were too heavy for you to carry all by yourself so you decided to employ your boyfriend, who in addition to being freakishly strong also valued quality time spent together. 

He was usually a quiet person, never showing any strong emotions aside from occasional anger when something wasn’t going his way. Today wasn’t any different. His stoic face had his usual expression on, impassive and even, uninterested. You were talking to him as he nodded along humming occasionally to show his engagement. 

Despite his demeanour, he was enjoying his time with you. You were picking through the apples you planned to take home with you, looking for the perfect ones. You didn’t realise how menacing he looked, looming over your much shorter form. You, of course, understood people being scared of your boyfriend. He was almost 8’2” which made anyone pocket-sized to him. 

You walked along the dairy aisle while he was pushing the shopping cart along. “We should get the regular milk this time.” You said putting the carton into the cart. “You always drink oat though?” He spoke up, questioning you. “You need your protein to maintain your muscles, you know.” He nodded, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “I’m not losing them any time soon, little one.” You walked to the next aisle. He continued. “After all, who will help you with your groceries if I become thin and frail?” He put his hand on the small of his back and leaned forward to simulate the hypothetical situation. You rolled your eyes playfully. Something ignited within you. A joke? From him? That was… unusual

You continued your shopping trip with a sweet treat for both of you that he paid for in the end. For a beast that had to chain himself up during the full moon he was a gentleman. 

Once during a full moon he broke out of the chains and scared the ever-loving shit out of you when he burst into your shared bedroom in his fully transformed form with a foaming snout and eyes so predatory you felt like a bunny being chased through the woods, only at his mercy. He didn’t have bloodlust on his mind this time though and after a moment of standing in the threshold he lunged towards you and ravaged you that night like a man starved. 

The next day he, of course, apologised for his behaviour and massaged all the areas that were sore. You mentioned once or twice that you’d love for him to break the chain once more but he categorically denied you access to him when the full moon was in the sky. He was so, so scared of breaking you because he knew how delicate human bodies were, not used to knots and all the other parts of being with a werewolf. 

Your mind came back from reminiscing and focused on the type of flour you had to purchase for your baking endeavours. “Why are you so distracted lovely?” He lowered his face to your ear as he didn’t want anyone to hear you. He knew exactly what had you so preoccupied. Your face got hotter for a moment but you regained your composure. “Cookies are best made with coarse-grained flour right?” You smiled innocently. 

The cashier looked horrified with the amount of items on the conveyor belt. You send them an apologetic look and began bagging your items. Just before you finished your boyfriend pulled out his card and pressed it onto the reader. You insisted on paying him back for at least half of your shared groceries but he refused to listen to you.

“Not only are you stubborn but also extremely helpful.” You said with faux exasperation as he took all of the bags into his hands. “Oh no! Whatever will I do now that you’ve upset me so badly?” You beamed. He warmed up to you enough to make jokes, a rarity for him.

“I might have a few ideas…”

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masterlist

[red-doll-face]

someone said Arthur and bear in the same sentence and my brain went fuzzy 🥴 inspired by this post by @ccghastly .there is like a vague x reader thing going on here but mostly bears are my favorite animal and arthur is bear to me now 😊 something small in between me struggling in the trenches that is ch 7 of my stupid fic.

werebear/hybrid medium honor Arthur Morgan x reader

Ok but like Arthur who’s tall, with his wide shoulders and his soft body hair and him putting on some extra pounds for winter. His belly being all fuzzy and cute and he gets a little grumpy when you cuddle on it, but accepts it, rubbing your hair while you laze on his belly.  You might think he is very cute but he gets a little miffed about that, he's supposed to be big bad bear arthur morgan. doesn't like to think of himself as a softy but when you're rubbing his beard and belly, he may let it happen. "don't go tellin' nobody about this," he mutters when you get a small groan for petting his chest.

And he’s extra aggressive, possessive, he hoards you like he hoards food.

He has an embarrassing stash of sweets, which he will let you pillage, very reluctantly. 

Arthur doesn’t really want you anywhere he can’t see you. He’s either following you around or keeping you with him. Grumbles around looking for you, you can hear his spurs jingling while he's stomping around looking for you. Once he sees you, he visibly relaxes, not so gruff when he gathers you in his arms for a big bear hug. Loves to mark his territory, predator style. Definitely finds a way to do this with you. Gives you love bites to show off or he's making you wear his clothes in some way, big or small. Does not care if this embarrasses you, sorry. "gotta let people know you're spoken for," he just has a smug little grin.

Thinking of him scratching his dark sandy belly hair and yawning, ambling around all bear like to find something to eat 😭😭😵‍💫❤️

For the most part, he’s pretty calm, gentle, around you, and the people he trusts, but strangers in his territory, threats to your safety, people poking him and pushing him to the edge. Very scary bear Arthur, killing with deadly efficiency, intense protectiveness, anything to prove he’s the biggest bear in his territory. ☺️

He might be pretty predictable for you, he doesn’t lash out at you very often but to other people, he’s quick to show how they can never guess what he’s going to say or how he’s going to react. If someone is annoying him, he might not care and let it roll off his back or Arthur might snap back and show them that he can’t be bothered to control himself. Arthur's self control is harder to gauge, it's really up to his mood or whatever whim he's come up with.

Drooling thinking of Arthur and his chest hair and his thick ass happy trail. And as some sort of werebear/hybrid? Big predator teeth and cute little bear ears. If he can shift into a full bear, he would be a bit of a menace. Snuffing in your hair and softly play biting you. Scent marking by rubbing himself all over you. He has fun throwing his weight around with you but he doesn't like to hurt or scare you. Too much anyway. Arthur has his meanie moments where he's letting his predatory instinct take over but he also has his sweetie docile and sated moments.

Thanks so much for this delicious idea omg, i could go on forever about arthur with his little bear traits. 💕💕💕🥴🥴😳😳😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 so sorry if this is not what you had in mind but this was my vision. 😔

[rappaccini]

... ok. yellowjackets s3 ended. the fandom's dying down. so i'm gonna say a bit i've been thinking about for a while regarding the elephant in the room.

yellowjackets has a lot of influences. greek mythology. lord of the flies. the andes flight disaster. the natural behavior of the yellowjacket insect. and windigos.

the fandom has combed over all those influences and written great (and sometimes dumb) meta about each... except for the last one.

the gist is: someone brings up that this show is strongly inspired by windigo mythology, someone else says 'well that's disrespectful and offensive, and the writers Would Never and you're disrespectful for implying they would', everyone dogpiles onto the first person until they stop bringing it up, the moderators of the yellowjackets subreddit instantly erase all discussion of it like they did with this post which is why i'm rewriting it here, rinse and repeat.

the fandom's still stuck on the question of whether the writers would appropriate the windigo myth, which is pointless because they already did. and the fandom will not talk about it. but we have to, because we've been there since the pilot and we never left.

mandatory disclaimer: the writers of a piece of fiction you like can do something in it that you don't like, including (and especially) problematic and potentially racist things. a great piece of art can still have elements in it with serious issues. instead of pretending those issues don't exist, talking about them is a more useful way to figure out what to do with them.

got it?

alright. now don't be like coach martinez and strap in:

the antlered shaman

first, on a superficial level, the leader of the wilderness cult (named 'antler queen' by the fans, but referred to in the pilot script as the 'shaman' and a certain piece of concept art as the 'wilderness cult leader/oracle') wears antlers.

... why?

deer aren't apex predators so it isn't a commentary on the food chain. if it were, the leader of the feast would be dressed as a wolf, cougar, bear or other large predator from the area.

only male deer have antlers in winter so it isn't a statement on gendered power. otherwise travis would be the 'antler king', the feast would be in summer (when female deer do look like that) or the oracle's costume would be invoking a powerful animal with a female-dominated social structure or biology.

the most important animal to the girls, the mascot of their team, the title of the series, and the inspiration for a lot of the show's social dynamics and plot points isn't the deer. it's the yellowjacket:

it's aggressive, predatory and highly territorial: the girls menace each other and kill the hikers.

it's matriarchal and lives in an almost entirely female society: men have no power whatsoever in the group the moment they land.

males are only tolerated as sexual prospects at the fringes: travis is the only male who survives, mostly by being the boyfriend.

it's cannibalistic: ....

it emerges from hibernation in the spring: the girls are highly active in season 3 after mostly resting indoors through winter. lottie 'awakens' from her medication after the crash, in late spring.

its nest is created by a single queen: jackie wanted to stay in the plane, where she initially held influence. lottie discovers the cabin, where she rules. nat arranges the building of the village, where she rules.

that single queen incubates her eggs over the winter: ... shauna's pregnancy.

a new queen emerges after every season: season 1's jackie, season 2's lottie, season 3's nat, season 4's shauna.

it nests underground, but also in attics: oh look, lottie's first big delusion occurs in an attic. oh look, a cave where they spend a lot of time, and will probably start living.

only the queen gets to breed: jackie has sex with travis, lottie's show of power as she takes charge is initiating a group sexual assault attempt against him and literally telling jackie he no longer belongs to her (and travis starts becoming attracted to her while she's in charge), natalie is the only person who maintains a romantic relationship with him as she rises to power and as soon as they're broken up she starts losing influence, shauna gives fucking birth and that is used as proof that she should lead.

wasps eat rotten fruit, which intoxicates them and makes them aggressive in late summer: doomcoming.

burning its nest is a way people assume you can dispose of it but if it survives, it becomes even more aggressive: ... oh look, their cabin is burned down, s2's editing makes it seem like it was ben, and the girls haaaaate him for it.

it does not make sense that the power animal their leader is drawn to is a deer.

... unless you consider that the westernized windigo is a creature with deer antlers.

yes i said westernized. yes, the windigo is a part of algonquian folklore, and the only reason people think 'antlers' when they think of windigos is that horror director larry fessenden slapped them on the windigo in his horror movie (2001's wendigo) to make it more scary by making it look like the western depiction of a devil or demon through giving it 'horns'.

(it's barely onscreen but the damage was done.)

yes it's shitty that this inaccurate image created by a white guy who didn't care about faithfully depicting a being important to an indigenous culture is now the popular consensus on what it looks like.

fessenden seems to have regretted that, because in 2015 when he wrote (and starred in!) a little video game called until dawn, the windigos there are far more faithful to the original myths.

(tall, pale, emaciated, cold beings that move eerily quickly; with one particular windigo, makkapitew, even given an algonquin name that translates to "one who has big teeth"... but even then, there are inaccuracies. idk where the movement-triggered vision came from.)

credit where credit's due: he tried to fix his fuck-up.

but the horse is out of the barn. everyone thinks that a windigo is an emaciated person with the head of a deer now (because 1)... fine, it does look cool. and 2) a westernized, white-dominated culture is going to resonate more with the creature having antlers, because of its resemblance to the christian devil or the greek god pan). the depiction won't stop spreading so that's what it has become.

when the yellowjackets writers were first conceptualizing this story, they started by wanting to write a lord of the flies-style survival horror story about cannibalistic teenage girls, and to make it a riff on the 1972 uruguayan rugby team's plane crash in the andes. when they decided their plane full of americans would be stranded in the mountains, the only mountain range they could have used was the rockies. they definitely came across this myth while they were doing research on cannibalism and that area.

'cannibals in the far north of north america during winter' instantly evokes a certain kind of legend. same thing as 'undead nocturnal blood-drinker in eastern europe' or 'reanimated corpse in the caribbean.' i never said ‘vampire’ or ‘zombie’ but you absolutely thought of them when you read the context because those myths are ubiquitous with those ideas. because that's what myths are for: cultures create them to make sense of phenomena that are unique to them. the windigo is unavoidable. they would have learned about it as they developed this show.

and when they did, they would have come across an image of a tall, pale cannibalistic being with antlers in the dead of winter.

that is why we have an antler queen.

and the influence is absolutely coming from outside of the story. the yellowjackets can't be deciding to invoke the windigo with the shaman's outfit, because the antlered windigo quite literally was not a concept until 2001, five years after the girls' rescue. it's clearly the crew letting their influence show.

(side note: in the pilot script, on page 62, our only description of the shaman is that she's "masked and horned." who even knows how soon the antlers entered the picture. it might have been the wardrobe dept's idea. if it was, same situation. their research brought them to the windigo.)

beyond that, the windigo myth has more to it than just the general concept of cannibals in winter and that inaccurate image. it's considered to be both a supernatural and psychological/rational phenomenon. both are represented in the plot and characterization of yellowjackets.

supernatural

myths and folklore are meant to explain important aspects of the cultures that conceive them. the windigo myth is specifically concerned with the cultural ideal of the danger of self interest during a dire situation-- particularly with what could happen if selfish or irresponsible leaders take the reins in winter specifically: a descent into disorder, violence, starvation, chaos, death and ultimately cannibalism as a result of poor leadership, resource mismanagement and the breakdown of the social order at a time when the climate's most hostile and it's crucial to huddle together and follow a wise leader.

... what happens when lottie starts pushing her hallucinations on everyone and insisting they're signs from a higher power that has chosen her as its conduit as winter sets in?

when coach ben checks out, won't help shauna during childbirth, and abandons his girls as their house burns down? (... and may or may not have started the fire?)

... when the very first act of cannibalism in the show has its roots in everyone, and shauna most of all, acting out of selfishness and violating social norms: eating a human corpse in a frenzy like a pack of wild animals. botching a burial so bad it becomes a bbq. the person responsible for rationing the food supply secretly eating forbidden meat as the group goes hungry. keeping a corpse around and playing with it. letting a member of the group sleep outside in the elements and never bothering to get her. the homecoming queen’s lower-ranked friend winning an argument and getting to stay inside. even sleeping with jackie's boyfriend in the first place violates their friendship and the high school social hierarchy.

when the second act of cannibalism occurs as a result of travis violating a fair, unrigged lottery that everyone agreed to and choosing to save his girlfriend instead of feeding the group-- and everyone but natalie especially choosing to allow a child to drown so she can live?

when the third act of cannibalism happens right as the weather turns cold because shauna wants to indulge her power over the group and humiliate natalie?

when shauna and lottie ruin the group's chance at rescue because they want to force the group to stay and bear witness to how special they are?

when the one sane adult in the group earns her place by murdering their only way out to remain in a dangerous and unqualified leader's good graces, snow falls right away and she becomes a cannibal one episode later?

when the fourth act of cannibalism is the result of a clusterfuck of selfish grudges (mel wants to kill shauna), ego trips (shauna and lottie want to feel special), personal preference (gen doesn't want her apparantly-super-close-friend mari to get eaten, van and tai want to ensure someone they don’t care about is the victim), the waste of resources (killing the livestock) and distraction (the escape plan).

furthermore, we've seen all the ways people are purported to turn into windigos in traditional folklore represented in the plot.

being overcome by greed and a hunger to do violence: everyone acts this way at some point. particularly, lottie in season 1 and shauna in season 3.

consuming human flesh: everyone does it but ben and javi, who are ostracized and eaten.

even just being in proximity to windigos is considered enough: and shauna and lottie's behavior becomes a social contagion. the closer characters are to them, the worse they become.

small details that also fit: the windigo is considered to be a gaunt, swift, terrible-smelling creature. all the girls are malnourished, came to the wilderness as elite athletes (... with shauna singled out as the fastest, lottie having the best footwork and taissa being the best overall athlete), and they fucking reek by now.

... and the windigo is typically considered to be very tall. it isn't a coincidence that the actress who plays lottie towers over most of the cast.

and at least in season 1, she was absolutely intended to be the shaman/antler queen. of all the girls she was the one framed most consistently beneath and in front of antlers, her doomcoming outfit is the first time we see the antler veil and long white silhouette, she initiates and goads on the first approximation of a sacrificial hunt and is only stopped when natalie and jackie intervene, we end season 1 with an obvious setup of lottie as the villain kidnapping natalie in the present and vowing to shed blood and let the darkness set us free in the past as she sacrifices a heart, and the wardrobe designer labeled lottie as the person wearing the oracle/aq outfit in a production still she shared post-season 1.

… it was lottie. aq/shaman/oracle was played by a stuntwoman in the pilot, and a whole year passed between its filming and the rest of season 1 due to covid, so things definitely shifted during that time... but the identity of the oracle was still consistent.

then the show unexpectedly became a hotbed for mystery box lovers, the oracle became the antler queen and her identity became such a draw that the writers pivoted away from confirming the clear frontrunner to extend the mystery. thus season 2 lottie suddenly lost the sinister qualities we were promised.

and, tangent: the antler queen evolved from a shaman into a queen as the girl under the veil changed from lottie to shauna.

on page 62 in the pilot script linked earlier, the shaman has an "unspoken agreement" with a character labeled the overseer before she initiates the feast. this is the girl to her immediate left who she nods at before the feast begins in the pilot, who is the second person who follows her after the feast is complete. who in the pilot script, is commanding the butchering of pit girl (called the runner in the script).

(the overseer's the figure to the far right in this still. she is later revealed to be misty on-page... but isn't misty in the actual episode. misty's role in the group switched between script and shooting and she took on the meat-carving/serving duties reserved in the script for a character called the butcher. odds are the writers just streamlined those two very similar roles a bit to make their ranks more distinct.

and i think you can guess the butcher was shauna, because it's stayed the same all along.)

in the pilot-- script and episode-- it's not even clear if the shaman is an actual queen in full control of the group, or if her authority is shared with or lesser than that of the overseer. there's a reason the overseer is called the overseer, that the shaman looks to her for approval, that she follows her out of the feast first, and that the script makes a point to say that their silent exchange is something "we don't yet understand."

the antlered shaman wasn't an absolute tyrant. she had a partner, and they worked together to control the group. the shaman was the ceremonial and spiritual leader, and the overseer did the dirty work of intimidating the followers (called acolytes in the pilot) and handling the butchering.

the fandom missed this, assumed the oracle was the absolute leader-- the queen-- and the 'antler queen' was born in the fandom. and then the shaman evolved to fall closer in line with those expectations because the writers got too online: now the girl who wears the antler crown is a dictator and the shaman is still present, but definitely below her in rank.

you can see the vestiges of the oracle-and-overseer dynamic still in lottie and shauna's eventual roles (shottie best ship). their roles and arcs have probably stayed the same since the early days of the show's development-- just look at how they work together during doomcoming, and how they're not coincidentally the two characters with the most windigo traits throughout the show.

for all intents and purposes, in the past, lottie and shauna just switched outfits and spots around the bonfire. (and juliette lewis's abrupt departure caused an overhaul of the adult timeline into... whatever it is now.)

tangent over.

rational

it goes deeper. windigos are now arguably part of psychology too.

wendigo psychosis is a proposed (but not proven) psychological, possible sociological condition with all its factors represented in the show:

location: this is restricted to people in the northwoods of north america, where the yellowjackets crashed. and to indigenous communities in particular, but we’re already appropriating so… well.

symptoms: hallucinations. everyone, none more than lottie. its thought this condition may be a way of understanding mental illnesses like schizophrenia or did. not a coincidence that lottie is schizophrenic or that taissa has a fugue personality.

symptoms: agitation and anxiety. everyone.

symptoms: violent outbursts. everyone.

symptoms: cravings for human flesh (everyone) or strange substances (... tai eating dirt, anyone?)

symptoms: a belief that one is being possessed by a malevolent force ("it's already in you?" / the seance’s french ghost/ lottie insisting that she-- and then later nat, travis, akilah and shauna-- speaks for the wilderness?)

contributing factor - intense trauma: the girls are starving in the wilderness after surviving a plane crash and many landed already with trauma from home.

contributing factor - substance abuse: oh look, the girls are getting high on psychotropic mushrooms, huffing cave gas and drinking fermented berry wine and polluted water.

and guys? the ethnographer who wrote a lot of foundational texts about wendigo psychosis is named lottie chicogquaw marsden. not a coincidence that the girl who leads the group deeper into mass psychosis/has come under the thrall of an entity is named lottie matthews and played by an indigenous (maori) actress.

(... but not an indigenous american actress, because again. it's a white creative team appropriating a culture they don't belong to. the horse is out of the barn.)

one of the central mysteries driving yellowjackets is the question of whether the girls are being driven by a supernatural force or mass psychosis. the windigo straddles both. either the writers discovered the myth while searching for inspiration that could do just that... or they worked that theme into the show because they found the windigo first.

cabin guy tangent

we still don't know what happened with him. probably never will.

we do know that…

he's isolated in the mountainous northwoods, and he wintered there. he's in the right place.

his cabin reeked when the girls found it. he smells like a windigo.

he's found a skeletal shell of himself. so he looks like a windigo.

he has hard liquor stashed away. substances.

he is first glimpsed in jackie's dying hallucination as she freezes to death. association with hallucination and the cold? check, check.

he's found inside a circle created by carved symbols, which is itself within a larger symbol created by the symbols carved throughout the area. the girls hold a seance to contact him, and lottie is 'possessed' then. possession, check.

it's ambiguous if he died sealing a spirit in that circle with him (which then leapt into lottie), or if his own mental illness led him to suicide. natural vs supernatural.

there's something else: documented cases of windigo psychosis often include men killing and cannibalizing loved ones. we don't know what's up with cabin guy, but we know it was planned that he had a child, and in a deleted scene from season 2 episode 7, still visible in the script (page 23), we learn he was married, had a wife at the cabin who kept a journal (... like shauna), and that their baby died (like shauna’s) and she attributes the loss to the will of the wilderness (... like the group does.)

yet there's only his body by the time the girls find the cabin... and there are no baby supplies (or women’s clothing) in the cabin.

where are the other people? what happened to them? why does it seem like they didn't plan to have a kid in the woods and/or that cabin guy erased all evidence of one? how did he end up in that attic on his own and what drove him to die like that? why did this entire plotline get cut from season 2? what about it did the showrunners decide they shouldn't reveal?

and remember that deerskull head depiction of the wendigo? remember what book ben and misty were reading that cabin guy left behind?

oh, right. it's a copy of the magus by john fowles.

and of all the covers they could have chosen, what do the set designers pick?

... a horned skull head. hmmm.

windigos in literature

beyond that tiny tease on the cover, yellowjackets also makes direct references to windigo literature in several prominent places.

algernon blackwood's 1910 short story the wendigo is about a young man who disappears from his campsite in winter, then returns some time later Eerily Different, being haunted/possessed by the spirit. javi's vanishing and return is such a reference to that, and there are shades of it in tai's nighttime wanderings.

and one of the most famous pieces of cannibal literature is lawrence macmillan's 'at the end of the world: a true story of murders in the arctic'— which has a famous line about the death of the last windigo in the face of modern progress.

“The last wendigo died in 1962, or so the story goes. Reputedly, he (it?) stood in front of the train to Churchill, Manitoba, believing that the train would stop for him, a supernatural being, and then he would be able to eat the passengers. The train ran him over. Sic transit gloria mundi.”

'sic transit gloria mundi' is the name of the season one finale, where jackie, another supposedly powerful figure according to old cultural norms (the high school pecking order) is convinced those norms are enough to win her argument with shauna, be invited back into the fold, given a food she'd now consider a gluttonous indulgence and make her the beloved queen bee again. then she dies a cold lonely death because that's not their world anymore and she refuses to accept it. just like the windigo in that story.

not a coincidence.

(yes, it's what's said when the pope dies and a new one is appointed. yes, yj has that "who created the pope" line in the pilot and in episode 10 jackie dies and lottie, who sees herself as a religious figure, takes leadership. the show is multitasking.)

it's a windigo story.

yellowjackets isn't necessarily about windigos but it is a windigo story, inspired by windigos in every aspect: in concept, in aesthetic, in major plot points and social dynamics, in the supernatural vs rational debate, in the girls who are in the running to become the shaman-and-overseer who became the wilderness cult leader/oracle who became the antler queen.

it's everywhere. it's still there even years after the show evolved and switched gears several times and several waves of the fandom saying 'that would be offensive, don't do it.'

they did. they already did.

the creators appropriated the whitewashed pop culture windigo, its indigenous origins and the controversial psychosocial phenomenon— and they removed it from its original cultural context to use it to tell a story about a group of mostly-white girls and no member of the culture the spirit belongs to.

they're just avoiding saying the word out loud and they probably won't because if they tapped into their fandom enough to start shaking up major plot points and retooling their main antagonist to make her more like what the fandom wanted her to be, they definitely know saying what they're doing will piss it off. but not saying it doesn't change that they're absolutely doing it.

i'm not saying they're right or wrong. i'm not saying they're being racist or respectful (or that you are if you do or do not like this).

i'm just saying: it happened. and it's still happening. and acknowledging that will be more useful when we discuss what this show is and is trying to be. because, like it or not, without the windigo, yellowjackets wouldn't exist or would be unrecognizable.

one more time: the writers of a piece of fiction you like can do something in it that you don't like, including (and especially) problematic and potentially racist things. a great piece of art can have flaws or questionable aspects and it can still be great. ignoring those things will not fix them or make them go away.

[spiderfangirl22]

Don’t Say That It’s Over I’d Kill To Be Closer VI (Yandere Tom Ludlow x Reader x Yandere John Wick)

Warnings: Death Threats, manipulation, black mail

The shift in John’s demeanor was almost imperceptible, a subtle hardening of his gaze, a tightening of his jaw.

But Tom noticed. Tom, who knew John better than anyone, knew the darkness that lurked beneath his controlled surface.

The love John professed for Y/N was no longer a gentle flame; it had become a raging inferno, fueled by obsession and possessiveness.

John was becoming dangerous, even to Tom.

Tom watched as Y/N’s face lit up with a smile, a genuine, unforced smile that was solely for John.

He saw the way she leaned into him,

Unconsciously seeking his warmth and protection.

The sight twisted something inside him, a bitter cocktail of jealousy, regret, and fear.

He had to warn her. He had to tell her the truth about John, about the lengths they had both gone to in order to keep her safe, or rather, imprisoned.

But the words caught in his throat, choked by the weight of his own culpability and the terrifying certainty of John's wrath.

John’s growing obsession wasn’t just about him eliminating rivals; it was about controlling Y/N, molding her into the perfect image he’d created in his mind.

He wanted her to be happy, yes, but only on his terms. He wanted her to love him, not just out of genuine affection but also out of gratitude , out of dependency.

One evening, Tom found himself alone with John in the dimly lit bar they frequented.

The air was thick with unspoken tension. Tom knew John was contemplating something, something dangerous.

“John,” Tom started, his voice barely above a whisper, “You need to be careful. You’re going to scaring her.”

John’s eyes, usually so guarded, flickered with a dangerous glint. “I’m protecting her. From people like you.”

“Don’t you dare,” Tom hissed, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun holstered beneath his jacket. “I may have kidnapped her, but I would never… I care about her, John. Truly.”

John let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Care? Is that what you call it? Locking her away, controlling her every move? That’s not care, Tom. That’s possession.”

Tom’s face flushed with anger. “And what do you call what you’re doing?!Eliminating anyone who even looks at her? That’s not love, John. That’s madness."

John leaned closer, his voice a low, menacing growl. “It's devotion. A devotion you wouldn’t understand.” He straightened up, a cold resolve hardening his features. “I’m thinking of telling Winston.”

Tom’s blood ran cold. Telling Winston? Exposing Tom as the mastermind behind the kidnapping?

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. “You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?” John raised an eyebrow, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “I think Winston deserves to know who put his daughter through that ordeal. Who stole her away from him out of some twisted sense of ‘love.’”

Tom knew John was serious. He was cornered. He had to do something. “What do you want, John?”

“I want Y/N to be happy,” John said, his voice dangerously soft. “And I won’t let anyone stand in the way of that happiness. Not even you.” He paused, his gaze locking onto Tom’s. “But for her to be truly happy, she needs to be safe. And that means anyone who poses a threat to her, real or perceived, needs to be… removed.”

Tom understood. John was asking him to continue being his accomplice, to continue being the silent partner in his increasingly dangerous game. He was asking him to betray Y/N, to help him control her life.

He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t.

“No,” Tom said, his voice trembling but firm. “I won’t. I can’t.”

John’s expression hardened. “Then I guess I have no choice. I’ll tell Winston everything. You'll disappear, and I’ll be Y/N's hero.”

He turned to leave, but Tom grabbed his arm, desperation clawing at his insides.

“Wait! Please, John. Don’t do this. I’ll… I’ll help you. Just don’t tell Winston.”

John stopped, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “That’s what I thought. Good boy, Tom.”

The next day, Tom saw his opportunity. Y/N was at the park, sketching in her notebook.

He knew John was watching from a distance, always vigilant, always protective.

He approached her, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

She looked up, her eyes filled with a gentle warmth that made his heart ache. “Of course, Tom. What’s wrong? You seem upset.”

He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. He had to tell her, but how? How could he shatter her world without completely destroying her?

“There’s something you need to know,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “About John…”

Suddenly, a shadow fell over them. John was standing behind Tom, his face an unreadable mask.

“Tom,” John said, his voice calm and even, “I was just wondering where you’d gone off to. I thought we could grab a drink….Catch up.”

Y/N looked from Tom to John, a flicker of confusion in her eyes.

Tom’s blood ran cold.

He knew what John was doing. He was cutting him off, preventing him from revealing the truth.

“Yeah, sure,” Tom said, forcing a smile. “Sounds good.” He turned back to Y/N. “I’ll catch you later, Y/N.”

As he walked away with John, he could feel her eyes on him, filled with questions he couldn’t answer. He glanced back, a silent plea for forgiveness in his eyes.

John gripped Tom’s arm tightly, steering him toward a secluded alleyway.

Once they were out of sight, he shoved Tom against the brick wall, his face contorted with rage.

“What do you think you were doing?” John hissed, his voice a venomous whisper. “Trying to tell her? You promised!”

“I… I just wanted her to know the truth,” Tom stammered, his voice trembling.

“The truth?” John’s grip tightened, cutting off Tom’s air supply. “The truth is, she’s better off without knowing. She needs to be protected. And you, Tom, are jeopardizing that protection.”

“Please, John,” Tom gasped, struggling to breathe. “Don’t tell Winston. I’ll do anything. Just don’t tell him.”

John released his grip, letting Tom slide down the wall, gasping for air.

“I’m only going to say this once, Tom,” John said, his voice low and dangerous. “If you so much as look at her the wrong way, if you even think about telling her anything, I will make sure you disappear. Permanently. And I won’t hesitate to tell Winston everything. You’ll lose everything, Tom. Understand?”

Tom nodded weakly, his eyes filled with fear. He understood. He was trapped. He was a prisoner of John’s obsession, a pawn in his twisted game.

He knew he couldn’t tell Y/N the truth, not without risking his own life and potentially endangering hers. Because without him there John would break her.

He had to play along, pretend to be John’s ally, while secretly searching for a way to free them both from his clutches.

But as he looked into John’s cold, unyielding eyes, he knew that would be the most dangerous game of all.

He was dealing with a man driven by an all-consuming love, a love that had warped into something dark and terrifying. And he was terrified for Y/N's safety.

[adhdo5]

any chances you wanna tell me all about your transfem wwx read? I am very curious 👁️👁️

This is not quite "all about" because I am trying to post Anything but a lightning round

Wei Wuxian being othered and twitter cancelled is not news but especially interesting is the juxtaposition of the opening, how we see the YLLZ discussed as this big evil threat as a justification for violence from all sides, and then the proper start of the story, how we see Mo Xuanyu -- explicitly queer, perceived as a man in makeup and pathologized for it -- discussed as crazy and weird and pathetic as a justification... for violence from all sides. The outcasting of WWX in her first life and of MXY is different sure but the function of it is the same

The YLLZ is also repeatedly a hypermasculinized figure -- we get told repeatedly about the rumors of the YLLZ's Wicked Harem and how he goes around Seducing Women as part of the mythology of how formidable and scary he is -- which of course needs to be built up bc the entire jianghu feared her explicitly and so it's necessary to create this image lest that fear be emasculating

And consider as another contrast that isn't contrast at all:

There is an explicitly gendered undercurrent to the violence MXY and WWX-as-MXY face and an only slightly less explicitly gendered one to the way people justify treating the YLLZ as threatening and predatory, and those ways are directly put against each other from the beginning as functioning extremely relatedly, and are distinctly resonant to the ways transfeminist theory has pointed out as the social function of transmisogyny

And even pre-YLLZ: WWX is repeatedly treated as a menace because, from jump, she is a threat to the status quo. One of the first scenes we see from Wei Wuxian's first life is her in Cloud Recesses proposing resentful cultivation at all! She's a threat to Traditional Cultivation Values even before she becomes this on a grand scale and unavoidably so!!

WWX's self denial also factors into this -- her lack of concern for her own physical safety is an often-noted character trait and it's one that drops off a lot when she's possessing an openly ~transfeminine body, as opposed to when she's in her first life's one

A lack of concern that she at one point explicitly connects to the fact that she's a man (Xuanwu cave conversation), while being much more concerned for the safety of those around her inc other* men

While she loses the ability to wield Suibian immediately after core transfer it's also notable that in the eyes of the jianghu it's after she comes back from the Burial Mounds that she stops carrying her sword. This is a little goofy esp bc the swords as phallic imagery is not that strong in MDZS (esp comparative to eg TGCF) but it's not nothing and even aside from "bottom surgery from ghosts" ~jokes it is a symbol of normative cultivator power -- which is a masculine power

Note also that yin energy -- which she relies on after losing her core, the energy of the dead, etc -- is feminine-associated

Postwar WWX returning to the Burial Mounds as doing what's right and knowing it's what's right and that she cannot go back and wouldn't want to anyway, it would be self betrayal -- but it loses her everything, even people who wouldn't reject her on a personal level but who can't stand by her because of social incentive .

I also want to namecheck this heartrending animatic of this era which obviously is fanmade but I think that there's a reason that this song association is made! I think it's a good one and namechecks actual feelings and the lyrics given to WWX here include "But there's no way to deny the crumbling of the lie/That has haunted me from birth!" Her denying orthodoxy is meaningfully denying the structures in which she's lived her whole life -- see also the single plank bridge conversation! -- and especially since she's now coreless, she couldn't fit back into those structures if she wanted to, which she can no longer want given both that and the atrocities she's seen are fundamental to that system. Aaaaaaaaah

[ghostlyglimmer]

Edge of Control Chapter 1: A New Start

Summary:

25 year old Danny Fenton tries to live a normal life, he works at a rundown convenience store, all while suppressing his ghostly powers. But when a predatory customer constantly harasses his fellow coworker, something starts to crack.

Notes:

TW: Sexual Harassment & Assault Based on a prompt from @Regonold

Danny Fenton stood at the register of the cornerstore convenience shop, eyes scanning the dingy street outside. A pair of flickering fluorescent lights buzzed above him, casting a pale, sickly glow over the shelves lined with snacks, cigarettes, and cheap canned goods. The neon "Open" sign blinked weakly in the window, like it was struggling to stay awake.

It was well past midnight, and the streets were quiet. For now. In this neighborhood, the calm never lasted long, especially once the bars let out and the real characters started crawling from the shadows. But Danny didn’t mind the late hours. In fact, he liked the stillness—the normality of it all.

The bell above the door jingled, and Danny looked up to see Tracy walking in. She was wearing her usual oversized hoodie, hood up despite the warm night. She gave him a tired smile as she approached the counter.

"Hey, Danny," she greeted, dropping her bag behind the counter. "Quiet tonight?"

"Quiet for now," Danny replied, leaning his elbows on the counter. "But it's only a matter of time."

Tracy nodded, sliding in next to him at the register. She was only seventeen, a high schooler trying to save up some money before graduation, but she had that kind of wary, streetwise attitude that came from growing up around the wrong kind of people. She'd been working at the cornerstore for a couple of months, starting not long after Danny did, and though she didn’t say much about her life, Danny knew enough from the way she carried herself to understand she had her reasons for keeping her head down.

In some ways, she reminded him of himself. They were both just trying to survive, trying to blend in and stay under the radar. Except Danny had a lot more to hide than just a rough home life.

He hadn’t used his powers in weeks, which was a personal record. After years of ghost-fighting, he’d finally managed to escape Amity Park—escape the never-ending cycle of being a hero, being a target. Here, in this nameless city with its dirty streets and forgotten corners, he was just another face in the crowd.

It felt good. Normal. Like he could breathe.

"Anything weird happen earlier?" Tracy asked, flipping through the worn inventory clipboard, though Danny doubted she was actually paying attention to it.

"Just the usual," Danny shrugged. "That guy who always tries to steal candy bars came in. I scared him off."

She raised an eyebrow, amused. "Scared him off? Did you glare at him real hard or something?"

"Something like that," Danny said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He hadn't used any ghostly abilities, but a hard look and a bit of quiet menace were enough to keep most people at bay. He was good at blending in, but he was also good at not being messed with. A skill he'd perfected over the years.

Tracy chuckled, tossing the clipboard aside. "You’re like a bouncer in a convenience store. Bet they don't pay you enough for that."

"Not even close."

The conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence. Outside, the streetlights flickered, casting long shadows on the cracked sidewalk. Danny watched them with half an eye, his mind wandering. He liked the rhythm of the job. The simplicity. Sure, the neighborhood was rough, and the clientele could be unpredictable, but it was manageable. It was... human.

No ghosts. No paranormal disasters to deal with. No one trying to hunt him down. Just the mundane, gritty reality of a life that didn’t demand anything more than showing up and keeping the shelves stocked.

It was peaceful. For the first time in what felt like forever, Danny wasn’t running. He wasn’t fighting.

Of course, there were still slip-ups. A couple of weeks ago, he’d caught himself reflexively phasing through the stockroom door to grab something. Luckily, no one had seen him. And once or twice, when the lights flickered, he’d instinctively thought it was ghost-related, his heart hammering with that old adrenaline rush. But nothing ever came of it. No threats. No ghosts. Just faulty wiring in an old building.

“Hey, Danny,” Tracy said, pulling him out of his thoughts. She was leaning against the counter now, looking a little more serious. “Why’d you take this job? You’re, like… way too old to be working here.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Too old?”

“You know what I mean. You don’t seem like someone who’d be stuck in this place. Most of the guys your age are off doing, I dunno, real jobs.”

For a moment, Danny wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d come here to disappear, to live a life no one questioned. But here was Tracy, questioning it. He could come up with a hundred lies, but somehow, he didn’t want to lie to her. She’d seen enough BS in her life already.

“I needed a change of pace,” Danny said eventually, keeping it vague. “Something... simple.”

Tracy nodded slowly, like she understood. She didn’t push him for more, which Danny appreciated. She had her own secrets, too.

The bell above the door jingled again, pulling their attention. A group of guys in their early twenties shuffled in, already drunk and rowdy. Danny tensed, his senses going on high alert. Tracy gave him a look, already clocking them as trouble. They were loud, obnoxious, and definitely not here for snacks.

"Great," Tracy muttered under her breath.

Danny straightened up, his easygoing demeanor shifting into something more watchful. His heart rate picked up, and a familiar, cold edge settled into his gut—the instinct that something bad was about to happen. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t use his powers, wouldn’t let his ghost side out. But there were times like these, when the predator in him stirred, that it was hard to keep that promise.

He just had to hope that tonight, he wouldn’t have to.