#hopefully i will be able to articulate it

[gayanimebitches]

ok trying to gather my thoughts abt bloom into you i think i definitely have to rewatch it at some point or like read the manga or smth. my main takeaway is that i think its objectively better to look at it as more of a character study of touko than it is to watch it as a romance. the romance is a part of it obviously but after i came to the conclusion that its not what the anime is really mainly about, it made me like it a lot more and see it as better executed than if it was about the romance. bc of that i think its a little misleading that its always been advertised to me as a queer show u know?? idk not advertised but u know what i mean. it feels less about that and more about the complications and messiness of young love in general and in all forms, and how it can affect / be caused by your self image

[shalom-iamcominghome]

If this makes sense, one thing I love about judaism is knowing it's not going to make me whole. I know that this is a choice I continue to make - to want to be jewish. In fact, I make my life harder in some ways through this, but that is okay. It's almost part of the point. I choose this because it enriches my life. I choose this because it makes sense. I don't need to be "saved," made whole because I am missing parts of my own self. I am enriching myself, and that's different than missing who I "am."

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Have we talked about the fact that there is an episode of Buffy called bewitched bothered and bewildered that has an underlying themes that may potetially be similar to buck bothered and bewildered??

Especially considering Xander does something dumb and stupid when he gets dumped (getting a spell cast so that Cordelia will get back together with him so he can be the one to dump her)

Xander had up until that episode been somewhat stuck in a loop - the kind of character that hadn’t really had much development up to this point beyond having what I would term as an outdated concept of women and how he should treat them and especially attractive women. The whole thing is the start of the massive character growth arc we see xander go on for the rest of the show - which is kind of similar to Bucks in many ways - belonging, maturity, the search for respect, and his continued search for love.

[theshadowrealmitself]

I can’t articulate it, but it gets to me that, outside of Spock and I think Tuvok, being logical and regulating emotions isn’t something that Vulcans are shown to just endure, the same way they endure lower temperatures for other species, or higher oxygen for other species, or anything else that has to be incredibly uncomfortable at best to painful at worst that they just endure

The vibe I get from it is that a majority of Vulcans enjoy it, they like being logical, maybe they didn’t get a choice in being logical as kids, but unlike the select few like Sybok, they don’t seem to be resentful that they were raised like that at all

This isn’t just something they’re all forced to do now to prevent their emotions from causing their species’ end, dedicating themselves to logic brought them inner peace

[living-with-the-ghost]

There's this one post on here that says something about how people in fandom are so used to bad/flawed media that they learn that "analysis" and "thinking critically" is just finding problems with a piece of media and complaining and/or suggesting fixes, and when they encounter something good they fall back on those behaviors instead of engaging with them in good faith (obviously I'm paraphrasing).

Anyway, I think Banana Fish is a major example of a work that this has happened to.

[phagodyke]

weekend melancholy is starting to kick in >~<

[datastate]

oh also i haven’t mentioned this yet bc a lot of my liveblogging/thoughts has just been kept between my siblings and i lately but it’s both funny and hurts my heart to see sirius act like this :’]

he does keep associating the event with lady dorothy, and that is in part why he’s so visibly panicked, but it’s also because he still. cares about claire... even if he doesn’t want to admit it, or doesn’t fully recognize it. he is going out of his way trying to keep her safe even though noel didn’t tell him to do any of this and didn’t even expect sirius would believe him. sirius in these attempts has gone so far that he doesn’t even consider that he would be killed with claire should it come down to it.

[caterpillarinacave]

whatever dude in South Dakota is renovating a house you’ve gotta double check the phone number your entering when you inquire with businesses

[w0lp3rtinger]

"- I have a lot of problems with Biden. He is clearly the better of the two options, which I recognize is a very low bar. Being better than Trump cannot be the standard, because Donald Trump is the absence of a standard.

"But the truth is, even if Trump looses, that won't be the end of this. The people who cooked up Project 2025 will just move onto Project 2029 instead, because for them, this is so much more than just one election, or indeed, one candidate. Project 2025 is born from impulse as old as America. It's an impulse that says one class of Americans is entitled to lead, and the rest of us are lucky to be allowed to serve- that thinks there should be a limited government when it comes to rules they have to live by, but also a unitary executive to keep the rest of us in line. These are old, old ideas that have been shouted from podiums-... but have now been placed into a new handbook for an only too willing president to use on day one.

"And in a perfect world, I would love if we had an opposing party better able to articulate a strong defense of our country's ideals and that also consistently lived up to them. People are entitled to hope for more from the next four years than someone just not being Trump (and for at least two supreme court justices to die)-...

"And for anyone tempted to think, 'Well, we survived Trump's first term,' first, not everyone did, and it should hopefully be very clear by now a second Trump term really does promise to be far, far worse, because if Trump's first term was defined by chaos, his second could be defined by ruthless efficiency. That should be troubling to absolutely everyone because Project 2025 is a movement who's members joke about wanting a white homeland and insist women have to have more babies to uphold western society.-

"We need to be better than this."

-John Oliver, June 19th of 2024

[silverandebony]

This makes me think of the multiple reviews I saw about a book that has a genderfluid protagonist. They were all some flavour of "but what *plot purpose* does it serve that the character is genderfluid???" as if... there had to be a specific reason... for the character to be genderfluid...

Personally speaking, my genderqueerness isn't there to serve a plot purpose; I just kind of exist, you know? I live here and I just happen to be genderqueer, and it was nice seeing a character who also happened to be genderqueer while they were doing everything they did. Their story was affected by their queerness, but they were queer for their own sake, not because it was demanded by the plot.

Some people happen to be queer; some people happen to be blind; sometimes the two categories overlap. It affects us and how we live our lives, but we're not that way to serve a plot point; we're that way because... fuck man we just are. shit happens. And it's nice getting to see similar experiences reflected in fiction, with characters who don't have to justify themselves before the plot for being different.

Is it bad practice to have a disabled character (or two) in our stories just for the sake of being inclusive? I wrote a blind character to fill in the role of mentor, but then I realise there'd be no difference plot-wise whether he is blind or not.

Honestly, this sounds fine to me. You don’t need to have a special reason that a character is blind. In fact, that idea might come from systemic ableism, such as the idea that disability is uncommon or that disabled people— and characters— must justify their existence.

Blindness doesn’t necessarily need to influence plot so much as character development.

Characters, like blind people in real life, are allowed to exist. You would be surprised how controversial a statement this can be in writing communities. The idea is less about having a reason for them to be blind and more that you portray how their blindness influences their life. Do they use a cane or a soft service animal? Which fits their lifestyle better and why? Do they know other blind people? What is their relationship like with their blindness? How has blindness influenced their relationships with family or friends? What about their work or hobbies? What habits have they developed due to blindness? What have they gained from their experience as a blind person?

Blind people are lucky if we get exactly one blind character in a story. Having more than one is a good thing.

[samkerrworshipper]

underneath the surface pt.2

i wrote a part two to a fic? sorry what?

anyways loved will always have a soft spot for this! hope you all enjoy and lmk how you felt about it xo

warnings: soft smut & soft angst viewer discretion advised

Alexia knows she should be the brave face in this whole situation, she’s not the one sitting in a hospital gown on a gurney about to head into surgery, but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s sizzling with anxiety. She doesn’t know why, there isn’t anything particularly terrifying about her circumstances, this is a routine surgery, the chance of complication is extremely low, the chance of death is less than 1%. She knows because she’s google checked five times in the last hour.

She’s trying to hide it, because she knows even though you are putting on a brave face you are secretly terrified. She’s been playing the chivalrous girlfriend. Trying to eliminate any outside stress so that you don’t have to worry about it, which is causing Alexia to stumble into a spiral of worries. She’s worried for you, she’s worried for the future, she’s worried about everything that moves and breathes.

Alexia can normally cope under stress, give her a game winning penalty in a world cup winning game and she’ll treat it with the same amount of composure as she would a penalty in a 20-0 friendly game.

Alexia stressing about you though, is a completely different story. She’s snapped at everyone in the lead up to this week, she’s shut down, she’s in her fortress and until she knows that you’re going to be okay that’s not going to change.

You’re the best thing that happened to her, and even though she has absolutely zero impact on what’s going to happen in the operation room she feels like if she controls all of the outside variables then somehow that’s her contribution. She wants to believe that if she can make everything on the outside right, then it’ll somehow change what’s happening on the inside, Alexia wishes deep down that she could fix it all and that this situation wasn’t happening.

Alexia doesn’t understand why you suffer so much from a disease that has no cure, she doesn’t understand why something so horrible exists and why you are plagued with it.

You don’t seem phased at all, like this is normal routine for you which is making Alexia feel even worse.

You’ve gone about your morning as usual, denying Alexia in every way as she tried to do random acts of service that were actually useless.

You’d quite literally breezed your way through it all and to the hospital without a waiver, no tears, no worries, no stress. It was a long time coming, Alexia appreciated the fact that from what you and google had told her, laparoscopy’s could be life changing for people with endometriosis, it could effectively make your quality of life during your period so much better. But it was still surgery, Alexia remembers when she had her acl surgery, she was a bundle of nerves to the point where her mami had to sit by her bed to stop her from hyperventilating whilst they administered the anaesthesia.

There is no clutching for Alexia’s hand, no desperate admissions of fear, no articulation of any anxieties or stress. You’re practically meditative, sitting on the hospital bed in your gown waiting patiently for the doctors to come and collect you.

Alexia’s walked herself through the surgery hundreds of time, when she can’t sleep at night it’s the first thing that her mind drifts to, there isn’t any set routine for a laparoscopy, it’s based on how much tissue has built up and where it’s built up. They won’t know until they open you up, from the limited amount of information Alexia has been able to extract about your past surgeries she’s figured out that for you in the past, it normally builds up in your pelvis, fallopian tubes, the ligaments around your uterus, your ovaries and the last time you had a laparoscopy they even found small clusters on your bladder, vertebraes and bowel. Hopefully, they’ll just find it around your uterus, but if there are signs that it might have attached to other organs then the surgery can become far more invasive and longer. Your doctor has said that in the best case scenario it could take an hour or two, worst case scenario it might take upwards of 5 hours.

At least two hours of Alexia falling deeper and deeper into her fear that something horribly bad is going to happen.

You’d encouraged her to touch base with her therapist in preparation, a proposal that Alexia had laughed at. She knew that you’d talked to your psychologist a day beforehand in preparation, and told her that if possible you’d like to follow up a few days after your surgery. Alexia had no reason to reach out though, she wasn’t the one who was having her reproductive organs sliced up, it was her job to make sure that you were able to achieve optimal recovery. Your health was Alexia’s biggest concern, she needed you to recover, she needed you back on the pitch with her, she needed you back to normal as soon as possible, so that all of her stress and anxiety about everything that was happening could dissipate.

“Alexia, you’re squeezing.”

Alexia looked down at her hand, it was resting on the outside of you thigh, her hand all fisted up in your skin and the paper thin hospital bedding.

“Sorry bebita.”

Alexia retracted her hand as if had been burnt, she felt horribly guilty about the selfishness of her feelings, it wasn’t right for her to be so twisted up in her own troubles. She wasn’t the one suffering.

She didn’t know how to explain it, she felt like a child with her hand between couch cushions, reaching for something and only grazing for the edge of it. She only grazed the edge of understanding what you were going through, it felt like she was eternally reaching for more, trying to feel it, and yet she didn’t have hands big enough to grab what she wanted. She didn’t have the tools to fix this, she didn’t have the body to understand what you were going through, she was left searching without any chance of retrieving anything.

“Alexia.”

Alexia looked up at you, there was something in your body language, like you were uncomfortable, or on the border of being uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry bebe, is everything alright? Are you comfortable? I’m sure they’ll be in soon to come and get you, I know you must want to get this over with.”

You roll your eyes, and Alexia is aware that it’s your way of saying no, but for some reason it cuts deeper for her, she’s so on edge, she’s been on edge ever since you got your surgery date and it’s all starting to reach a certain point that is pushing Alexia in ways she doesn’t understand.

“I want my girlfriend to relax. I’m going to be fine Alexia, nothing is going to happen.”

Alexia knows that factually you’re correct, but in Alexia’s imaginative brain she can’t wrap her head around the truth.

“I know bebita, I just want to make sure that you are feeling good, si? You’re comfortable? It’s important for your recovery that you feel as good as possible.”

Your roll your eyes again.

“Alexia, everything is perfect, it’s all fine. I’ve recovered from this same surgery two times, I’m prepared. You’ve made sure that when I get home I’ll be comfortable, I’ve walked you through what the next week might looked like. I’m prepared and so are you, everything is going to be fine.”

You’re eerily calm and Alexia can’t tell whether or not it’s a front to hide your secret insecurities or if you seriously are content with what you are going through.

She supposes that when you’ve been living with something so debilitating for such a long time that at some stage you get used to constantly being disappointed with your body and constantly knowing that it doesn’t perform the same way that other people’s do.

“I know bebita.”

Alexia doesn’t even sound like she believes herself.

“Do you? Because it doesn’t seem that way.”

Alexia doesn’t want you worrying about her, she doesn’t want you worrying about anything, she wants you to feel calm.

“Bebe, I’m fine. I know our plan, I was the one who made it.”

It’s a weel made plan. Alexia had spent weeks getting everything in line for this moment. You were both going to take at least a week away from football, two weeks if need be. Alexia would return after the rest period, to training until she felt like she was in a place to be back on the pitch. You’d come in with her on the good days, meet with the team doctors and work through whatever exercise that was allowed whilst also just reintegrating into the team. If it all went to plan you’d make your way back into team training at the six week mark, and if it all went to plan you’d be back playing around the eight week mark. For the first week, you would be on mostly bed rest. Alexia had already meal prepped your comfort foods and easy foods to digest for the first week, and she had no doubt that her teammates would drop some more food off. You would rest, allow yourself some grace to recover from what you were going through. Alexia would make sure of it. She didn’t know what you’re previous recoveries from your surgeries looked like, you hardly shared any details about your past with endometriosis but what she could gauge it musn’t of been a positive experience. She was determined to change that though.

“You’ve got nothing to be scared about Ale, I’m going to be fine. I can’t guarantee how happy I’m going to be once this is over but I’ll be okay. I’ve been here, I’ve done this before, it’s the same as every other time.”

Alexia doesn’t think she’s seen anybody go into surgery so casually, as if this is truly just another surgery for you, as if there is no magnitude behind what is about to occur.

“I know bebita, I know.”

Alexia reaches for your hand, giving it a squeeze before bringing it up to her mouth and pressing a soft kiss to it. Her lips linger for a second, it feels good to know that you are here with her.

“Ms Putellas, it’s time to take her.”

Alexia looked up to the doorway, where one of your nurses was waiting.

She didn’t want to say goodbye to you, she didn’t want the waiting to start.

Alexia stands up, moving her lips from your hand and pressing them to your hairline, breathing in everything about you. The smell of your shampoo that she’d massaged into your hair this morning, the smell of your body soap, the warmth of your skin. It was all you, the you that Alexia knew, the you that Alexia loved so much. She had so many hidden insecurities, but her biggest one was that deep down this surgery was going to somehow change you, and when you came back different to how you currently would, you wouldn’t want her anymore.

There was no explanation, but it didn’t change what Alexia had come to believe.

“Alexia, I love you, I am going to be fine, I will see you in a couple of hours.”

Alexia didn’t know it, but you had your own insecurities. You’d never had anybody, friends, family, partners that had stuck by your side through all of your issues. Who was interested in a person who was completely broken from the inside? Why would Alexia want to stick around for all the troubles. It wasn’t easy looking after a person with a chronic disease, even with her limited amount of time dating you she’d hardly experienced the real struggle. Sure, she’d seen you on your period, but that didn’t compare to a lifetime of struggles.

Alexia had advocated for you, with the team, with the physios, with the coaches, with your doctors. But was she prepared to do that for the rest of her life? Was she prepared to sacrifice her own health at certain times to prioritise yours? It was the ultimate sacrifice, and even though Alexia was genuinely the best person that you’d ever met, yet you wouldn’t blame her for being unable to compensate for you.

“I know bebe, I’ll be waiting for you. I love you so much, it’s all going to be fine.”

Alexia pressed her lips to your forehead one final time, you didn’t push her when she took her time. Alexia’s lips shook against your skin, the quiver silent as she kept any emotion she had at bay. She needed to be strong, she needed to stay strong for you.

“Ms Putellas, one of the nurses will take you to the waiting room, a doctor will come get you when she’s done.”

Alexia finally pulled her lips away, it truly did feel like she was parting with you completely, like she was being pulled away from you completely.

The nurse reached for Alexia’s hand and she shook it free.

You frowned at her, like she was making this so much harder, it made her feel bad, but she needed this, she needed a moment.

“I love you.”

You let up on your frown.

“I love you too.”

Alexia nodded, if there were tears in the corner of her eyes then she had no idea, her focus was on you, only ever you.

Only when she finally felt comforted, did she let the nurse lead her out.

The nurses took you down one end of the hallway, and she dragged herself in the opposite direction.

The waiting room was the same as any other, random stock pictures of scenery from somewhere around the world, chairs that were more uncomfortable then any other surface, bright white lights that were bound to remind Alexia exactly where she was.

It was all uniform, besides her mother sitting in the corner.

Eli looked the same as she always did, her lips sitting in a content smile. There were big lines all over her face from her smiling all the time, it was the reason why everybody gravitated towards her.

“Mami.”

Alexia had known there was something slightly suspicious happening when her mother had been dodging her calls for the last few days. She’d assumed in typical fashion that whilst Alexia was looking after you, Eli would go into overdrive, cooking all the meals, helping Alexia. She hadn’t quite expected this.

Alexia had kept the details about your surgery vague with her family, she didn’t feel like it was her information to give away and also she wanted to keep some privacy. She knew it was going to be a tough period for you and also for herself.

“No, before you say anything, I am staying.”

Alexia smirks, pushing back the words that had already been on the tip of her tongue.

“You don’t need to be here, I could be waiting for while. I can call you when she’s done and you can come to see her.”

Alexia walks towards her mother, and she knows by the way that Eli is looking at her that she’s not going to be able to convince her to leave. Alexia’s stubbornness came straight from her mother.

“I will do no such thing. I shall wait here with you, I’m here to support my daughter.”

Eli nudges Alexia into the seat beside her.

“I’m not the one having surgery Mami, I will be fine waiting on my own.”

Eli slaps Alexia’s arm.

“Estupida. Tan estupida. When I was in hospital with your faher do you know how alone i felt? No, you will not be alone. Maria has gone to go and get coffee, we will all wait here together until she’s done. Comprendida?”

The tears that were in Alexia’s eyes a couple of minutes ago are back, the sick feeling of anxiety that’s been in her stomach all week, especially today suddenly feels less all consuming.

“You don’t have to do this alone, there are people here for both of you. There is support for you.”

Alexia nods, and for the first time in a while she actually feels like she doesn’t have to handle it all, like maybe she can off load some of the responsibilities that are making her chest ache with every breath she takes.

“Thankyou.”

As the doctors had told Alexia, the first week is by far the worst.

Your surgery ends up going for a lot longer then expected. As the doctors had expected, it hadn’t looked good, and it had spread to some of your organs. The positives were though that there hadn’t been any complications and they’d managed to remove all the affected tissue.

It had ended up being a day procedure and the doctors had cleared Alexia to take you home once you’d woken up and were eating and talking.

It had only gone downhill from there.

You were in a lot of pain, and pretty much delirious on the feeling of it and anaesthesia.

Getting you out of her car and into the house had been near impossible, carrying you was too uncomfortable for your incision, and walking was also impossible.

Eventually, with a mixture of limping, Alexia bearing all the weight for you and dragging you as carefully as she could she got you into your bed.

Alexia had set the house up so that when you were home everything would be easy, she hadn’t organised though for you to be completely immobile.

She got you set up underneath the blankets, allowing you to rest whilst she worked on making a light meal for dinner.

When Alexia came back, you were running a fever.

It was a low grade fever, something the doctors had told her to expect but it made her feel uncomfortable.

A fever was the first sign of an infection, and you weren’t awake enough to know what was going on. What if something bad was happening and she didn’t know? What happened if she didn’t catch it early enough? What if she was the reason that something bad happened?

Before Alexia could find the warning signs of slipping into her own brain she was falling deep into a fog of anxiety.

Alexia was the one who was responsible for making sure that you were okay. She thought that she’d worked out every different variable and issue that could arise, she’d promised you that she’d be there for you after your surgery. If she couldn’t help you with this though then was she really capable of dealing with all of it?

You stirred slightly as Alexia removed the thermometer from your lips, your eyes hazily opening up, looking at her with confusion.

“Hugs.”

It’s almost laughable the way that you whine at Alexia, the doctors had said that you would be pretty out of it for the first few days. You’d told Alexia that in the past, the first two or three days after your surgeries tended to consist of mostly sleep and adjusting to the pain of your healing incisions. After they had healed it was all upwards from there.

“How are you feeling? Do you want some more pain relief? Do you need some water? Food? You’re not feeling nauseous or cold?”

You shook your head, your lips morphing into a soft smile as you took in Alexia, all flustered and clearly worked up.

“Want hugs.”

Alexia was guarded, she always was when she was focused on protecting people. You didn’t want guarded Alexia. You wanted relaxed, homey, calm Alexia. The Alexia who would sit on the couch with you after a rough game and eat icecream, the Alexia who would silence her alarm on a morning workout day to stay in bed with you, the Alexia who just wanted to spend all of her time with you. You just wanted the Alexia that would put whatever you wanted above all else.

Alexia looks torn, really torn, like she knows that she should probably be caregiving in some way. She promised you though that she’d let you guide her through your process, that she wouldn’t try to control how you wanted to recover.

“Okay bebita, if that’s what you want.”

Alexia slips to the wardrobe quickly, pulling off her sweats in favor for changing them in for some softer pyjamas. She doesn’t know how long she’s going to be in bed with you but she assumes it’s going to be long enough that she’ll want to be comfortable.

When she makes her way back into the bedroom you’re waiting patiently, like you know that if you’d fallen asleep whilst Alexia was gone she probably would have gone off to tackle some non-existent chore to make herself feel better. Alexia rolls her eyes at how well you know her more unobvious traits and tells.

Alexia, without trying to shift the mattress at all, pushes herself under the covers of your bed. She’d made sure to put down fresh sheets, so it’s comfier and snugglier then it normally is. When you realise that Alexia is going to make no attempt to shift within cuddling distance you pull your arms out from underneath the blankets. Everything is sore and accompanied with a tinge of pain that makes your head hurt. It sucks. You want your teddy bear of a girlfriend to hug it away.

Even though it hurts, you reach for the hem of her sleep shirt, tugging it towards you. There is no power to your movements but there is a general message. Alexia shuffles closer to you, but still far away enough that you definitely can’t use any part of her body as a pillow. You don’t know why it hits you then, you know you’ve got a lot of built up emotions, and that hormonally there is so much going on in your body and the pain medication isn’t making it any better. You don’t know why, but all of a sudden the tears start to fall and you can’t contain the sniffle that you make.

“Bebita, what’s wrong?”

Alexia shoots up, ready to take action in whatever way is needed.

“Do you even love me? What person wouldn’t want to give their girlfriend a hug? I know I just had surgery and I’m digusting and haven’t showered and smell like hospital but can you not just give me a hug, is is that big of a ask?”

Alexia almost immediately recoils, the feeling that sets into her stomach is one of horror. Of course she wants to hug you. Of course she wants to love you, she’s just scared to hurt you.

“Bebita, no. It’s not about any of that, I just don’t want to hurt you bebe. I love you so much bebe, none of the surgery stuff bothers me, not in the slightest. I just don’t want to hurt you.”

At this stage you’re sobbing hysterically and Alexia feels so horrible.

“I know you didn’t want me to get the surgery, I know it was stupid but can you just hug me?”

Alexia genuinely does a double take when you say that, it’s a insecurity that you haven’t expressed to her at all and she doesn’t quite know what to make of it.

“Bebe, of course I wanted you to have the surgery. I can’t tell you whether or not it was a good decision for you, but for me it was a no brainer. Bebe, you were in so much pain, you were struggling so much and for me it was so hard to see you go through that. I don’t know why you’d think that I wouldn’t want you to get the surgery but I can tell you that any decision that makes you feel happier and healthier is always going to be the best decision. If this surgery makes you feel healthier and happier then why would it be stupid?”

You don’t really know what you are thinking or why you’re suddenly thinking all of these things but you just feel so wrong all of a sudden.

“You promise?”

Alexia smiles at you, finally leaning over into your personal space. She bring her hand up to yours and interlocks your pinky with hers.

“I pinky promise, now how about we work out that hugh that you want. I don’t want to hurt you, so what’s going to work best?”

Alexia reaches up to thumb away the tears that are still leaking down your face, you can’t control the random emotions that are flurrying through your body like a tornado.

“The doctor said I should sleep propped up, so I could lie with my back pressed to your front?”

Alexia figures that probably is the best way to approach this whole situation.

It’s not easy getting you to sit up for long enough for Alexia to slip in behind you, but you both reap the reward when you get to relax against each other.

Even though you’re wrapped in Alexia’s hoodie she swears that she can feel your bones relax against hers and even though she knows that you might be in pain she selfishly couldn’t care less. For the first time since she’d walked through the doors of the hospital this morning she finally feels like she can breathe, like she has you, like her inherent need to protect you from everything has finally been fulfilled.

Alexia worries about you more then anything else, when you get injured, when you’re sick, when you’re away from Alexia too long she worries. Her need to protect and care for you has only developed more over the course of your relationship, and when she found out about your endometriosis it doubled. She’s never worried much about anything besides football, and even when she worried about football it was never the same kind of worry, it’s more internalised stress about achieving what she’s set out. For you, everything is irrational, none of it makes any functional sense, it’s ridiculous. And yet she kind of loves it, because she knows that it means it’s all real, that her love for you is so real and true that she worries irrationally because the thought that anything bad could ever happen to you she knows that it would break her in ways she’s never been broken before. She saw it in here mami when here papi died, the way that she stopped being able to function in the absence of him, and god forbid anything similar happened to you Alexia knows she’d be the same.

There’s this thing about recovery, about recovery from a non-injury that makes your skin crawl. You’re not a good person to be around when you’re struggling, it’s the half the reason you’d kept your reproductive issues from Alexia, because it all made you grumpy and tired and borderline and fucking bitch. There was a pattern of shutdowns, emotional, physical, mental, every single time you had a slip or bad period. A surgery though, it was a whole different story.

By week two you felt pretty much back to normal, but as the doctors kept reminding you, you weren’t. That was the problem with internal surgery, eventually the outside of your body returned to feeling normal, but the healing process on the inside took ten times longer. Your scars were healed, even the swelling had started to go down, the pain was minimal but you were still healing.

By week 4 you knew that you were toeing the line of being a bitch and being intolerable. You stomped your way around the halls of the training facilities, annoyed with your lack of progress and the fact that whilst all of your teammates were out on the pitch, you were stuck indoors under the air conditioning doing the exact same pelvic floor exercises that you’d been doing for two weeks. You were now allowed to run on the treadmill, instead of the slow walk that you’d been doing for the past few weeks. It all felt like nothing though, like you were being pulled through hell with no real picture of when you would be allowed to return.

You’d known about all of this before your surgery, known that it was going to be a slow process. What you hadn’t realised though was just how lonely that process was going to be, nobody understood what you were going through. At least with injury there was common ground, everyone on the team had been through some kind of back setting injury that had them in the gym more then on the pitch. They’d never been sidelined for something inside of them though, something that was going to keep coming back and keep hurting them over and over again.

Week 5 was when you broke. There wasn’t any exact reason, maybe it was the way that Mapi continuously kept trying to get you to try some stupid gym challenge when she knew you weren’t allowed to, maybe it was the way that Alexia kept coming home everyday complaining about how the defenders couldn’t get their act together, or maybe it was just the overwhelming pressure that was starting to get to you.

All you know is that after a particularly hard day and Alexia groaning about the sprints they’d run after every drill on the way to the car, it had been the final straw for you.

The minute your seatbelt was fastened there were tears pouring down your face.

When Alexia reached out you smacked her hands away.

“Bebe, talk to me, are you in pain? What hurts?”

If you weren’t busy crying you’d probably slap Alexia for the stupidity she was exhibiting.

“No, no I’m not fucking in pain. I’m sick of you constantly fucking tell me about all of your problems and acting like I wouldn’t die to be doing what you’re fucking doing. I’m sick of everybody thinking that I can do everything that they are doing just because I look fine. I know I look fine, I know I seem fine, hell at this stage I’m pretty sure I am fine. I’m sick of feeling like I’m back to normal and being told that I’m fucking not, that I have to wait another week, that I can’t do things that are so normal to my life.”

Once again when Alexia tries to give you a hug you deny her, wiggling out of her hold as soon as she tries.

“Bebe, no recovery is linear or easy. Just because yours looks different to most peoples doesn’t make it any less valid. You need to be more gracious to yourself, you are going to get back from this. Just because it isn’t a normal process or what a recovery normally looks like for you doesn’t mean that you are any less entitled to your process.”

You know that like everybody else, Alexia doesn’t understand. Sure, she’s injured herself, she’s been through hell and back for her recovery. She doesn’t understand though what you feel, the immense struggle that you are going through.

“No Ale, you don’t fucking understand. There was no point in your recovery where you weren’t able to eat your favourite foods because your body didn’t react well, there was no limiting you from sex, there was no limits on what the unaffected parts of your body could and couldn’t do. There was no limits on how much time you could spend in certain positions or limits on whether or not you could fucking vaccum or carry something heavier then 5 kilos. You don’t understand, I have nothing to look forward to, i’m going fucking crazy watching everybody do things daily with ease that I can’t fucking do. My fucking body hates me, it betrays me everyday. And I can’t change that, I can’t do anything about that.”

Alexia forces herself to take a deep breath, to truly consider what you’re saying. She doesn’t want to invalidate you, not even remotely, she knows how easy it is for people like you to be invalidated because of your disease. She has no idea what you are going through, she can’t even begin to understand, and yet she’s been trying to. She’s been trying to empathise with what you’ve been feeling, she’s tried her hardest to force her feet into your shoes but the reality is that she will never be able to. Nothing is going to make her understand the magnitude of what you are going through, and she thinks that she needs to stop pretending that she does.

“You’re right bebita, you’re right. I’m so sorry, just tell me what you need, whatever you need and I will help you. I will try my hardest to do whatever it is you need. Just take some deep breaths with me, vale? It’s okay, the world isn’t going to end right here and right now, it might feel like it but I promise it won’t. These are fixable problems, we can fix this, maybe not right now which sucks but eventually this will all be fixable.”

This time when Alexia moves to hug you, you don’t flinch away. For the first fucking time in five weeks you be slightly heard, less alone and isolated.

You sob into Alexia’s neck, not caring that it’s making her neck wet and also your face. It feels good to let it all out, like all of the weight, all the words from your psychologist, from the doctors, from the physios, from your teammates, from the coaches, from Ale are slowly becoming background noise. All you want is for it to be background noise, for it to all disappear.

“We’re going to be okay bebe, you’re going to be okay, we’re going to work this out.”

Alexia doesn’t really believe her own words, she doesn’t know if everything is going to be okay, not remotely. She doesn’t know how to help you, after you became self-reliant after week 2 her job as your caregiver was pretty much nonexistent, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t still need help. It was all confusing, a back and forwards dance that didn’t really make any sense really. Whether Alexia had realised it or not though, she’d assumed that you were happy to do it alone, inadvertently. She was giving you your space to recover how you wished, even though it was clear that wasn’t necessarily how you wanted to go about your rehab.

When your cries softened Alexia let go a little bit, so she could look at you.

“How can I help bebita? Tell me what I need to do and I will do everything I can.”

Your eyes are all glassy and full of tears, it makes the hole of guilt in Alexia’s heart even bigger.

“I just want to play.”

Alexia furrows her face, because of all the things she can do, that isn’t one. She can’t clear you to play and she won’t condone you rushing your rehab to get back. She wants you to play, do desperately, but only when you’re at full health.

“I can help you with your rehab, bebita you can be cleared from the six week mark onwards, if you work really hard this week there is a chance you could be back in training next week. But you can’t rush yourself, I know you want to be back on the pitch, I want you back on the pitch. But you need to be ready, and right now you aren’t.”

Alexia thinks it might be a little bit too brutal, but the way you nod at her with real determination tells her that she’s said the right things, she’s supporting what you need whilst also being honest.

“I can’t get you back on the pitch but how about icecream, huh?”

You look like you might start crying again but after a few seconds you roll your eyes in the same way that you would to Alexia on any other day.

“It’s a wednesday, your cheat day is Mondays.”

Alexia shrugs, because cheat days aside, she’d break any and every rule just to see a smile on your face.

“Well last time I checked everyday is a icecream day, especially on wednesdays.”

Alexia’s goofy smile never leaves her face. It’s clear on your face though that you’re still worrying.

“Bebita, you can’t do anything about this. You just keep doing what you’re doing, even though it sucks and we wait until your six week appointment and hopefully you get good news. The doctors said if everything went how it should then next week should be when things start to pick up, you just have to trust the process bebe and it’ll all work out. Until it all works out, we have icecream, no?”

Your barriers break and for the first time since you’d sat down in the car you smiled at Alexia.

“Yes, we do have ice cream.”

Alexia had been forbidden from coming to your six week appointment, you wanted to do it alone, wanted to face whatever news you were given on your own and she respected that.

It didn’t make it any easier.

In the space of around an hour she had reorganised her wardrobe and then reorganised it again because she couldn’t handle not having certain things in certain places. She then moved on to folding all of the laundry, making sure her kit bag had everything that was necessary for the away game coming up and then out of pure desperation she moved on to cleaning all of the dishes.

She’d seen the way that the last week in particular had drained you, how everyday had been even more of a struggle. For the first few weeks, there had been moments of intimacy, moments of love and softness. All Alexia wanted was that back, she wanted to be able to love you and have you reciprocate it without withdrawing. She just wanted some part of you back.

When she heard your keys turning in the door, she tried her hardest to look normal, perched on the kitchen bench like a kid waiting for their parents to come home from work.

She listens to the sound of the door clicking open and shut, then the sound of shoes scuffing off, a bag being dropped and then your footsteps. Alexia’s heart beats faster and faster as she listens to you slowly get closer to her.

She’s rewarded when she finally sees you, and you’re not crying and don’t look like your about to punch something so she thinks there must be some kind of good news on the horizon.

When you spot Alexia clearly waiting for you, you almost laugh, she looks like she’s trying so hard to not ask you what she clearly wants to. She looks almost antsy.

“Hi.”

You keep walking, closer and closer, until your standing in between her legs and looking up at her from her spot sat on the counter.

Before she asks a question, you lean in, you need it. You need to feel Alexia in a way that’s been forbidden for far to long.

The kiss is breath taking, not to rough, not to over bearing. It’s just enough of everything that you feel like you’ve been missing out on. It makes everything better.

Alexia lets you take control, it feels good to not be out of control with everything that’s been happening.

Eventually though, when your hands move from her neck to the hem of her shirt, she pulls away.

“Bebe, I love you, but if you haven’t been cleared we should stop here.”

You roll your eyes and fish your hand into you back pocket, pulling out a folded up slip of paper.

“I think you’ll find that you have a girlfriend who has been cleared to return to all activities except games until I’ve gotten sufficient training hours, I’ve got the green light amor.”

Alexia pulls the paper from your hand, her eyes scanning every single word of the clearance form your doctor, making sure that you’re telling the truth. When she gets to the bottom, her face lights up and before you can say anything she’s standing up and lifting you in her arms.

“Alexia, put me down.”

You giggle as she balances you on her hip as if you are much smaller then you truly are, already walking towards your bedroom.

“I think it’s time to show my beautiful, patient, hardworking girlfriend just how much i love her, unless you disagree?”

You have no objections.

Alexia drops you down on the bedding as softly as possible, a big cheshire grin plastered across her face, like a huntress whose found her prey.

She joins you on the mattress, crawling up your body and kissing different places as she goes.

When she get’s to your head she presses her lips to yours, there isn’t any inhibitions or barriers, she kisses you like a person whose been so deprived of something that they’re craving it, like she’s greedy for you. Alexia moves her lips everywhere, your neck, your collarbones, as low as she can get until your tank top stops her and when she wants more, she gently tugs the top off.

Alexia worships your skin like it’s holy, she kisses and sucks and bites until your sweating and so worked up that you can’t think. When it starts to get to you, she unclips your bra, and that’s a whole other level of worshipping every inch of breast and then your nipples.

It’s glorious, 6 weeks of celibacy had been hell. Technically this would have been okay, but neither of you trusted yourselves to get to this stage and not go further.

So being here, being at this level of pure ecstasy and pleasure was everything you’d wanted and it made all of the tough moments feel so much smaller.

After she was sufficiently happy with her worship of your upperbody, she began her campaign downwards, spending time on your ribcage and stomach before spending extra time showering your incision with soft kisses.

It was something she’d done regularly since the bandages had come off, everytime you stared in the mirror for two long, or complained about how ugly it looked she would spend at least half an hour reminding you just how perfect your body was with certain scars. Those scars were proof that you were healthy and taking care of yourself and for Alexia that mattered far more.

From your incision it was down to the band of your leggings, which after a quick glance up to check you were still happy, she slowly peeled off.

“Alexia, enough teasing.”

Alexia pressed open mouthed kisses all along the outline of your panties.

“I’ve been away from your body for so long bebita, I’m just reintroducing myself.”

You rolled your eyes at the blonde, and were about to say something bratty but were stopped when she moved her open mouth a bit further down, just above your mound.

Instead of a bratty retort Alexia’s ears were met with the glorious sounds of little moans slipping from your lips as she teased you.

When you started bucking up into her, Alexia made the executive decision to move things ahead a bit quicker then she intended, after all she had plenty of time to do this, over and over again.

“You’ll tell me if anything hurts, si? If anything feels wrong say something, we’ll just stick to my mouth for now and work our way back up.”

You nodded at her, even when you felt good sex could be painful, it was a weird back and forth of you feeling good and then all of a sudden feeling bad. All you craved right now though was sweet release.

“Want to taste you bebita, god I missed tasting you.”

You swear your legs go numb and you almost orgasm just from her words.

“It might be quick, it’s been a long time Ale and I’m sensitive.”

Alexia smiled at you, kind and genuine like she had all of the time in the world.

“Just feel it however you need to, if it’s fast then it’s fast, whatever you feel just take it.”

You nod at your girlfriend before relaxing against the pillows on your bed, allowing Alexia to pull one of your knees above her shoulder.

The feeling of her mouth on you is truly the best feeling in the world, you don’t care how loud you are because the fulfillment you are getting has been so hard worked for that you can’t help but just enjoy it.

Alexia licks and sucks in all of your most sensitive places, places that have been untouched for so long that you’d almost forgotten just how good it could feel. When she pulls your clit into her mouth you see stars and you know that you aren’t going to last long at all, you gather Alexia can tell from the way that your octave heightens.

“Ale-Ale I’m going to cum.”

You can feel Alexia smirk against you.

Even though she knows that she’s able to satisfy you, there is nothing better then actually doing it.

“Go ahead bebe, I’m right here, you’ve been so good and patient. You deserve it, if you feel it just let go.”

You nod your head, biting down on your lip as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge, there is no hesitation from your edge, when she grazes her teeth against your clit you are well and truly gone.

Normally, you’d last more then one round, or you’d reciprocate at the least but before you can even try Alexia has you bundled up in her arms, pressing kisses all over your face.

You squeal and flinch but she doesn’t stop, not until your face is all red and your both relaxed against your pillows.

“You know how proud I am of you? You’ve been so good this whole process bebita, so perfect, so hardworking, so determined. You’ve pushed through it all, and you’re going to keep doing ti because your the toughest person I know, truly. I love you so much amor.”

You know that for the rest of your life, Alexia will take care of you, like nobody else. Underneath the surface she cares for you more than anybody else ever had and ever will.

[halothanic]

“a thousand wasted hours a day, just to feel my heart for a second”

happy 50th anniversary to brian depalma’s “phantom of the paradise”, a brilliant work of art that will forever move me beyond words.

i cherish each gorgeous frame, each note, and will never be able to articulate fully how much winslow as a character means to me.

hopefully i'll be around to celebrate its 100th. i bet by then i'll have every line memorized.

[stayinlimbo]

love at your fingertips

pairing: lee minho x reader genre: established relationship, fluff disclaimers: tooth-rotting fluff, will (hopefully) make you smile, slight suggestiveness, lowercase intended, slightly unedited word count: 681 note: i had this idea and just had to do it. i love love ♡

minho has never been good with words.

it’s a fact he’s had to accept throughout his entire life. sentences spew past his lips before he has time to process what he's saying and his mouth won’t form the intended words clawing at the back of his throat. his attempts at conveying emotions fall flat due to his dry tone of voice, the only noticeable tells articulated by his ever-changing demeanor. 

it must be ironic that he considers himself an extrovert. 

or maybe it isn’t, because although minho may not be able to express himself verbally in his native korean, he is fluent in the universal language of love through touch (as if his obsession of slapping his friends’ butts wasn’t proof enough). and now that you’re in his life, it has become one of his primary means of communication. 

“i love you” is one of the phrases minho will never have trouble saying. not when the simple brush of the back of his hand with yours hints at his affection for you before starting dating. not when he clasps your hand with his to carefully guide you through a crowded area, occasionally looking back to ensure you’re okay and always to be met with a smile that melts his heart.

he expresses it in the way he ruffles your hair when he stands behind your seated form on the couch, laughing as he defends himself against your playful swats. minho remains tied to you, playing with your fingers under the restaurant table when on a group date with your mutual friends.  

careful love as his hand presses against the small of your back, letting you walk slightly in front of him on the sidewalk at night, making sure you’re always in his line of sight. 

passionate love as he pushes you against the bedroom door, the grip on your hips tightening when your mouth detaches from his and trails down to his neck. he radiates it through the act of intertwining his fingers with yours by your head as he pants into your ear, pressing a sloppy kiss to your temple, a silent thank you for vulnerability you’ve never hesitated to unveil for him. 

unconditional love when he pulls you in for a firm embrace after one of the worst arguments the two of you have ever had in your relationship. his thumbs wipe your tears away, an unspoken apology for making you cry. 

it’s the love minho knows will be there when he wakes up in the morning as he stretches his hand out towards the middle of the bed, close to where your half-asleep figure peacefully lays. 

it’s the love he knows is reciprocated, for you speak the language of love too. 

minho hears it, sees it, in the way you took his shy hand in yours, intertwining them together with a beam on your face at the way his face flushed from your confident action, and it’s the way your fingertips dig into his shoulders, kneading away the tense muscles after a stressful day. 

you make his annoyance at the world disappear when your fingers card through his wet hair, creating spiky towers pointing in every direction that he can’t help but laugh at himself at how ridiculous he looks (yet never smooths them back down unless you do it for him). 

it’s your careful love too, existing in the lip tint you applied on him transferring onto your lips as you tilt his head and pull him in for a sweet kiss. it’s worth the smudged kiss stains adorning his face when he sees you admiring your work, squishing his cheeks together because he’s just “so cute.”

you love every extension of him, including his cats that yowl and parade around your feet until you give them all equivalent attention with gentle pets. 

love is imbued in your touch, even when you’re half-asleep, yet still reach out to meet his open palm to loosely interlace your fingers.

no, “i love you” is one of the phrases minho will never have trouble saying. not if it’s with you.

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liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz

[kindred-spirit-93]

OMFG IM GOING TO LEARN HOW TO DRAW THAT. BANDAGING SCENES ALWAYS MAKE ME WEAK. KJHGFDSASDFGHJKLLKJHG

omg tele is like frowning & generally pissed off bc neo is being difficult and hes so done with his stubborness (theyre just like me frfr) and hes pretty focused and neo is sort of hunched over but his eyes wander elsewhere. *dies*

talking about my neoptolemus/telemachus wip bc idk how to shut the fuck up!!!

SO the dynamic between neoptolemus and telemachus in my wip is essentially that neoptolemus is in love with telemachus from their first meeting, but he’s convinced that telemachus is too good for him and that he destroys everything he touches so he masks that with cruelty and pretends that he hates telemachus. telemachus is at first, drawn to neo and really likes him, but then neo starts being cruel in his attempts to push telemachus away and that gets telemachus to genuinely hate neo. it’s like a one-sided enemies to lovers. neo wants really badly to hate telemachus, but he can’t find it in him to not love this boy who he thinks shines like the sun. telemachus, on the other hand, just hates neo and he blames neo for ruining this friendship that they could have had.

their relationship basically flips back and forth between neo saying some unintentionally soft shit and when telemachus is like “what” neo just immediately says “but you’re also a weak dumbass so. fuck you.” neo is such a girlfailure in this fic he doesn’t know how to handle emotions AT ALL. he’s grown very special to me in the course of writing this fic which is very funny bc prior to starting this fic, i actually did not care for neo in the slightest before i started writing this fic. i only cared abt him as an extension to achilles bc achilles is my fav greek mythology figure ever. THEN AGAINST ALL ODDS, neo charmed me while writing this fic. like these are some tweets from my priv twt where you can see me progress from not caring at all abt neo to seeing him as my little babygirl son

so yes, i was charmed by my socially awkward son neoptolemus. he’s such a little freak. my favourite headcanon is that maybe in another less angsty fic than the one i’m writing rn, neo wants to flirt with telemachus and bc he’s emotionally inept like his father, he decides the best way to do that is to ask telemachus to spar with him and bc he hates losing, he goes all out and beats telemachus up. it’s like

neo, internally, after punching telemachus in the face: yes, our courtship is progressing magnificently

telemachus, clutching his bloody nose, trying to figure out why neo hates him:

LIKE THEYRE SO FUNNY TO ME!! i love them sm.

but anyways back to the specifics of my fic. they don’t get to be quite as silly in my fic. essentially what happens is that neo hears of odysseus returning to ithaca and decides to visit. there, he meets telemachus and is immediately charmed because he’s such a little loser. telemachus invites neo back to the palace for dinner and neo ends up getting in an argument with odysseus that ends with him going “I WILL TRAIN TELEMACHUS.” and odysseus does not want that to happen so ofc, telemachus says he wants neo to train him.

and the plotline is basically neo and telemachus’ relationship progressing as neo trains telemachus. it’s full of a lot of really sexually charged sparring and angry arguments.

some of you may be wondering why i refer to neoptolemus as neoptolemus always and not pyrrhus even though pyrrhus is his original name. well in my head, pyrrhus is the name that he’s given at birth by deidamia and neoptolemus is the name he takes up when he goes to war because he feels like he’s become a different person. neo struggling between his two names is actually going to be quite a plot point in this fic

because this fic is just as much a character study of neoptolemus as it is a ship fic between neo and telemachus. i spend a lot of time exploring his relationship with his parents and also his relationship with odysseus. it’s neo’s desire to piss off odysseus in the first place that gets him to stay in ithaca with telemachus. i really want to spend a lot of time exploring neo as a character bc so often, people write him as just being needlessly cruel, but i feel like it’s important to remember that he was just a kid when he was brought into war. he has this legacy from achilles that he needs to live up to, but he’s never even met achilles and how are you supposed to live up to the legacy of the greatest of the greeks? how would it ever be possible to make someone like achilles proud? neo’s grappling with his self-worth and identity a lot during this fic.

so far this fic is about 22k words and it’s very special to me. in the vision i’ve created in my head, we’re about 1/4 done but i make no promises because you all know me and how awful i am at sticking to the word counts that i imagine. it could be much shorter, it could be much longer. i don’t make plans. i just sit down in front of my google docs and bleed.

i’ve also been making plans for a little modern au neo/telemachus fic BECAUSEEE i really want to write that little neo and achilles exchange that i mentioned in my last post abt neomachus (teleneo? idk what their ship name is but i like calling them neomachus). my vice is creating wips and never finishing them tho so idk when (or if) i’ll write that modern au.

i guess i’ll end this little infodump off with some fun exchanges between neo and telemachus that i really like in this fic. they’re just so special to me <3

i will absolutely talk abt this fic more in the future as i continue writing bc im so obsessed with it rn. i will do my best to finish it asap but every time i think more about it, it gets longer.

(ALSO the title of the fic is “someday i know you’ll come to your senses” which comes from the song senses by mico who is, yes, the guy who plays telemachus in epic the musical. what can i say? i like it when things come full circle (it’s also a really fucking good song. everyone stream internet hometown hero by mico))

(none of these excerpts are edited or anything btw. if there are any typos please keep that to yourself or i might die of embarrassment)

[royalsunshinehotel]

a weaker woman (Sergei Kravinoff x Reader, 18+)

A/N: First of a hopefully productive kinktober. Breeding/lactation kink I guess, reader is kind of a captive on purpose (beauty and the beast)

Since coming to know Sergei Kravinoff, you had been the happiest you’d ever been. As his sweetheart, his mate, you’d wanted for nothing, and that included all of him. 

Of course, it wasn’t always like this. 

Here you sat, comfortably in your shared bed, having fallen asleep waiting for Kraven to come home. You’d expected him in the late afternoon, and  here you were, at 10pm, alone. 

It wasn’t just that he was late, it was the ache, deep in your heart. The only kind of pain you felt whenever Sergei was away. 

It was nothing that couldn’t be managed with time with your son, or time alone with your hands, but pain would still be pain. 

The air in your bedroom felt too hot. Combined with the hormones from your latest pregnancy, you didn’t wear many clothes anymore. 

He’s in the corner, staring at you while you doze, while he did prefer you comfortable, it did nothing to stop him from salivating at your exposed form. 

If he had a thousand years, he could never articulate how flawlessly and appetizing you looked. Your hair had grown long, your belly round, your tits fat. You could barely get up from a chair without help, and by some stroke of good fortune, you were all his. 

By good fortune, he meant his father, but not entirely all things for him. 

You were here, calm, and about to become the mother of his second child, and he owed all of it to a shoddy revenge plot. 

A scientist, hired to distract him, had somehow worked out wonderfully well. Your eldest, almost one year, was across the hall, and your second, a little girl, was due within the next month. Timing was truly everything. 

While he did fancy himself a reasonable man, after your true motives had been revealed, he thought he’d keep you as his whore. He’d already gotten you pregnant, and he’d intended to take the baby away, to punish you. As if any of this was your fault. 

And, despite the betrayal, despite the distraction he’d wrought on his won mansion, you’d wanted for nothing. In ‘captivity’, you’d given birth at home, in the company of the best medical team he could buy…for his son, he’d told himself. 

Sergei wanted to laugh, standing in the dark. He really thought he could keep you as a toy, something to breed to keep away the boredom.  

You smelled like heaven when he filled you with him. 

From the first moment Kraven watched your wide eyes roll, and struggle to stay open while he stretched you around him, he knew he simply wouldn’t be able to give you up. Breeding his father’s spy hadn’t been an accident. He’d gone and fallen in love. 

Unfortunately for you, you’d felt this way almost since the beginning. Sergei hadn’t believed you when you came clean about your connection to his father, and your pregnancy, so you had decided to wait it out. 

Maybe, if you were lucky, he could mourn the person he thought you were, and realize reality and fiction weren’t that different.

“The payoff would be worth it,” is something you’d whisper to yourself whenever the doubt crept in. 

Sergei and his temper, making grand threats he’d never be able to complete, while you stayed by his side. He’d never actually wanted someone before, and he’d never had someone stay. 

Sergei loved you too, this is what made your time in ‘captivity’ bearable. He could call you his whore, as long as he kept coming back to you. 

The feeling of having such an angelic, ferocious man wake you in the night, to warm his cock while he sucked on your breasts, would make a weaker woman’s head spin. 

He could hurl as many insults as he liked, have a tantrum if he wanted, but you wouldn’t budge. Though you were technically a captive, you love him, and you won’t move. 

The payoff would be worth it. 

Sergei was right there with you the day your son was born, and from that day, you knew it was only a matter of time before he’d bred you again properly. 

God knows he would try. 

You’d agree to marry him in the days after, and he’d fuck you full of him. You wouldn’t be a “whore” or a “pet”, you’d be his wife. 

Sergei would treat you as such, in most ways at least. 

You’d both come so far in such a short amount of time…

Gently pulling a strand of hair from your cheek, he pulls you from your rest. Taking a moment to admire your body, he pulls the blanket down to reveal more softness. 

“Sergei?” You question, reaching in the dark. 

“Yes my love, I'm here.” 

His weight bends the mattress, hanging over you. He keeps most of his weight off to not distress your condition. You hum happily at his warmth, and Sergei sees fit to trace his sharp nose around your nipple, with a sharp inhale.

From the day your son was born, the tantalizing scent of your milk had brought Kraven back from the edge. He had been addicted to you the whole damn time. Yet, he perfectly balanced it with love, just as someone should. 

It’s a sweet gesture, somehow, shoving his face into your breasts. It’s sweet, and just like your pussy, he uses his teeth. 

You moan, almost a plea, as your husband holds you. 

A chaste kiss to your lips, and you squirm. You’re still half-asleep when Sergei traces large, warm hands down your belly, right to where you need attention. 

Long fingers tease your entrance, and you move your hips as best you could into him.  

It’s just been too hard without him, and damn near ridiculous. 

He’s made you stupid. All those years of school, all that work, and you were about to give birth to your second child in two years. 

You have a PhD for fuck’s sake. 

Sergei loves that he’s made you stupid. He swirls his tongue around your areola kneading as he pleased. 

Your milk had come in, with plenty to spare, and he was taking his fill freely, in the way he usually would. 

His mouth, god you loved his mouth, but “Cock! I wan’ cock!” You struggle to get words out, but you’re smiling. He always makes sure you’re smiling. 

It’s not that complicated. You just want to feel him deep inside you, scraping against parts you never knew about. You could make as many children as he wanted as long as he never left. 

As long as he kept touching you like this. 

Sergei pulls off your breast, earning a whimper, your wide eyes make his hair stand on end, and he has to ask, “I want more,” he growls, “Will you give them to me?” 

“Yes” 

A/N: I can’t lie, not as kinky and graphic as I had hoped, but this is heavily based on conversations with @false-girl-prophet about her OC, Grace. I guess we’ll see Daddy Kraven next August 

[roseykat]

can you maybe possibly hopefully write kitty reader with other members..? I'm more curious about your thoughts on hyung line

thank you anon! Here is hyung line and I might do a maknae line at some point to follow this one up.

(these are nsfw so read with caution)

I've mentioned Chan before with this idea but to reiterate, Chan can usually deal with her whenever she goes into heat - to a certain extent. He can tame her whenever she misbehaves such as by telling her off or setting up soft rules for her to follow - nothing harsh or drastic. But, my hard thoughts about kitty!reader and Chan are here x

Minho is a cat magnet and just has a lot of knowledge about them, their nature, behaviour, habits and whatnot. So when he and reader first met, and after she told him about her complexes to do with her anatomy, he just instantly knew and understood. There was no judgement whatsoever.

Now, Minho is physically articulate with how to 'deal' with her especially when it comes to her heat. He can't comprehend how exhausting it is for her to go through it and tries to make it as comfortable as possible and tends to her needs as much as he can - as much as his stamina can.

At times she wants to stop, to stop cumming whenever she needs to use dildos or vibrators to satiate her primal needs. Then again, Minho knows she can't help it. This is literally how she was designed. Now if it's kitty!Minho and kitty!reader, he would have her heats covered. He'd be able to handle them every day of the week, no sweat. He gives her his seed when she wants it - breeds her when she asks for it and would never get tired.

Changbin is a very observant person and every day that goes by, he learns something new about his kitty!reader. He discovers that she won't let others play with her tail, but when it comes to him it's fine. He knows that she likes being scratched lightly behind her ears and prefers to rest between his legs whenever they both get the chance.

Then at times, she can be so stubborn and doesn’t listen to him. Changbin notices that this is usually the case three or four days out from the first day of her heat to which he does his best track. She gets aggressive. Won't let him touch her, won't let him go near her space, becomes a bit irrational - but the second her heat hits, she’s all over Changbin.

He can keep up with her for a certain amount of time each day of the week and eventually gets worn out. But that still doesn't stop him from helping her. At the end of her heat, she's run to the ground and completely exhausted. That's when Changbin will pull out the best self-care methods such as running her hot baths, giving her massages to relieve her tired and sore muscles, feeding her well, and relaxing with her - all so she can come down from an incredibly tough week.

Hyunjin just loves, loves, loooooves teasing his pretty kitty!reader. He thinks she’s so cute when he does something annoying to make her hiss. For instance, he knows the most sensitive parts of her body, in particular her neck and ears, so sometimes he will just come up behind her and start kissing her neck to which she can’t help but submit to the feeling and starts melting in his arms. It’s in her nature after all.

In saying that, when it comes to her heats, Hyunjin is just as annoying if not slightly sadistic about it. He finds it interesting how antsy, clingy, handsy and horny she can get during the days where she has to claw at Hyunjin to fuck her. He makes use of her being in this state by overstimulating her until she’s crying and begging him to stop even though, anatomically speaking, she needs him to continue.

Every day throughout the week, Hyunjin has new ways of subduing her primal needs. On the occasion, he will use toys to help her. But he finds that making her cum himself, whether it’s with his fingers, mouth or cock, is much more rewarding.