#none of you are going to believe me when i say this but this started out as a n/sfw hc page and turned into this

[f1daydreamer]

“His Favorite Person”

Warnings : none just pure Fluff

___________________________________________

You were Oscar Piastri’s childhood sweetheart. It sounded simple on paper, but in reality, it was anything but. He’d known you since you both were seven, growing up on the same street in Melbourne. He was the boy with messy hair and a shy smile, and you were the girl who had no problem standing up for him when someone teased him for his quiet nature.

It wasn’t long before the two of you were inseparable. Wherever Oscar went, you weren’t far behind. He even credited you with convincing him to pursue karting when he’d doubted himself at thirteen.

Now, years later, he was one of McLaren’s golden boys, and you were still the center of his universe.

---

“So, Oscar, who’s your inspiration?”

The interviewer’s question was generic, the kind of thing every driver was asked at least a dozen times. Most people expected him to say someone like Ayrton Senna or Lewis Hamilton. But Oscar? He barely hesitated.

“Y/N, definitely,” he said, his face breaking into a soft smile at just the thought of you. “She’s been with me since the start. I wouldn’t be here without her.”

The interviewer blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “That’s sweet. Care to elaborate?”

“Well,” he began, his voice lighter than usual, “she’s the one who pushed me to go after this. She believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. And, uh, she keeps me sane when things get crazy.” He laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Also, she’s probably the most patient person in the world. I don’t know how she puts up with me sometimes.”

---

The fans ate it up, of course. Anytime Oscar mentioned you—which was often—the internet would light up with posts like:

---

It wasn’t just in interviews, though. Oscar’s Instagram was basically a shrine to you. Every post, no matter how racing-focused, had at least a couple of pictures of you tucked in somewhere. Sometimes it was a candid shot of you laughing in the paddock, other times it was a picture of the two of you on holiday.

His captions? Equally lovesick.

Even McLaren’s media team couldn’t resist teasing him about it.

“Alright, Oscar, let’s get this promo video done. Try not to talk about Y/N for five minutes,” one of them joked during filming.

He grinned but didn’t deny it. When the video came out, fans weren’t even surprised to see a clip of you sneaking into the paddock to surprise him mid-season. Oscar’s face had lit up like a kid on Christmas morning, and McLaren had (very cheekily) titled the segment, “Oscar’s Favorite Person Arrives.”

---

You’d teased him about it countless times.

“Do you realize how obsessed you sound?” you asked one night, scrolling through the comments on his latest post.

“Obsessed?” he repeated, pretending to think it over. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Oscar!”

“What?” He grinned, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his lap. “You’re the best part of my life. Why wouldn’t I talk about you all the time?”

Your face burned, but you couldn’t help smiling. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it.”

---

If anyone had asked, Oscar would’ve said it was easy to love you.

After all, you were his constant—his best friend, his partner, his everything. Whether he was racing halfway across the world or just lounging at home, you were the one thing that grounded him.

And if the entire world knew it? Well, that was just a bonus.

[asgardianechoes]

Cramps Be Gone

Loki X Reader Fluff

Summary: You’re on your period, you’re frustrated, and Loki’s there to help you.

A/n: I got this idea on day one of my period, so… here we are.

The day could’ve been much more cheerful. You and Loki originally planned to go out today. Instead, you were curled up in your bed, groaning every other minute. Why? Because a very unwanted guest showed up at your door this morning. Guess who? None other than your monthly bleed-out session, aka period.

You were lying in your bed with the unhappy knowledge that this will not end anytime soon. Waves upon waves of stab-like pains shot through your lower abdomen, making you groan and press down on that spot. You were tired. So damn tired of it. You were looking forward to this date, but now it’s ruined. You were originally thinking about taking painkillers, but Loki absolutely disagreed.

‘Painkillers,’ he said strictly, ‘are merely something Midgardians came up with to gain more money. They do not help conquer it; it only allows them to forget about it. If you use such things, y/n, believe me, you will behave carelessly and only worsen it and wish me to get you more. Therefore, no, you will not be using such trashy Midgardian medicine. It isn’t even medicine, in my eyes.’ He added, pulling a face.

Loki was there for you, of course. He was always there to help you with your needs, he even let you have breakfast in bed (something he doesn’t usually allow. ‘You’ll dirty everything,’ he used to say in a tone of finality). But he wasn’t there for the most part. He has work to do, you know this, but you still wished he could give it all up and just stay with you. Flipping over under your blankets, you resumed cursing your life.

I’m lonely, you thought sadly, your head under your blankets. You wished your period showed up just one day later. You and Loki have been dating for nearly a month now, it was clear to you that your time of the month was going to hit anytime. But why on this day? On the one day you don’t want it?

You were, not gonna lie, very frustrated. And angry. In need of something (or someone) to rage to, you started blaming your boyfriend for your pain. What was possibly so important that he had to leave you? Couldn’t he leave it till your bleeding days were over? Why? That word seemed to exist in every single thought you had flowing in your head. Why?

On day three it was going terrifying. It was hurting so much you couldn’t even bring yourself to sit upright in your bed. You prayed it would be over, but apparently your prayers were ignored. Oh, how you’d like this shit to finally just end. Loki had to feed you breakfast, it was so painful. He even teased you. Like, is this guy for real? (‘I mean, I could make it go away for nine months…’ he had said while smirking. You slapped his hand, scrunching up your face.) But after that he just pressed a kiss to your forehead and walked out. Sometimes you regret dating this guy.

It was nearly noon when he came back. Your aches soothed a little, but were almost just the same as before. He sat down at the edge of your bed, brushing a strand of your hair out of your face.

‘Oh, now you decide to show up,’ you groaned, ‘now that I’m literally dying in my bed. How was work?’ you put emphasis on the word ‘work’ as you knew he must feel at least slightly guilty about leaving you hanging. He opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and said: ‘Well, about that…’ He looked at you with a pleading look, as if wishing for you not to get angry for what he was going to say. You narrowed your eyes, staring back with a suspicious look.

‘What?’ you asked, your breathing kind of shallow due to the pain throbbing in your lower abdomen. ‘What wonderful surprise have you prepared for me?’ Loki sighed, as if preparing himself for a scolding, and said: ‘I have not been working. Or at least, I wasn’t doing Avengers’ work.’

You bolted upright, causing a stab of pain to shoot through your body. His hand instinctively rose to hold your back and lead you back down. ‘What?! So you’re telling me that you weren’t even doing important shit while I was mentally and physically dying?! What-‘ he put a finger to your lips to shush you. ‘Let me finish,’ he said gently. You reluctantly laid back down, staring at him with accusatory eyes.

‘I have been working, darling. For the past few days I have been digging through my books to find a safe and healthy painkiller for you. You see, Asgardians value health over money, and we have much safer medicines than those on Midgard.’ He says, brushing his hand over your hurting part over your blanket. Heavens, he looked hot when he looked at you with these loving eyes.

Even after listening to his explanation, you still wanted to blame him. Keeping that annoyed look on your face, you whined at him: ‘Well… that’s very… nice of you. But- you should’ve told me beforehand! I thought you were being careless and didn’t give a shit about me! I was so upset.’ Loki looked at you knowingly before answering: ‘Honey, if I told you, you would’ve distracted me with your rushes and caused me to slow down my pace.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘After you’ve recovered, darling.’ He replied, smirking. You rolled your eyes, your cheeks reddening. This man knows exactly how to get to you, you can give him that.

With a swift move, he slipped your blanket off. You shivered slightly at the sudden chill, but Loki reassured you that it wasn’t going to take long. Softly, he brushed his hand over your abdomen, and you felt a warmth surge through where he touched. Soon, you could feel the pain leaving you, finally giving you peace. You sighed, relieved that it was all finally over. You laid back down, closing your eyes and drinking in the fact that Loki was your lover.

‘Be careful,’ he warned as you beamed at him, ‘you may stain easier, now that you don’t feel it.’ You didn’t even wait for him to finish before half-singing: ‘Yeah, yeah, I know-‘ you were suddenly so happy that your period said bye-bye, you thought Loki might’ve given you a cheer-up spell or something.

Eager, you tried to get out of bed, but only got shoved back in. You pouted up at him, staring into his blue eyes. ‘Just because you don’t feel it does not mean it is no longer there. Stay in bed.’ He said.

You hmphed at him, burrowing back into the sheets to sulk. Loki smiles. What a girl he had found.

HELLO! Hope you enjoyed it :D My posting is still kinda limited, thank you for your patience

Taglist: @simplyholl @mischiefmaker615 @vbecker10 @kathren1sky-blog

Tell me if you want to be in my taglist!!

Feel free to comment lol

[rafeshit]

cocky!rafe x cocky!reader

warnings — none other than LOTS of angst and kissing

summary — enemies to kissing on a ski trip, inspired by a TikTok

—

as you strap on your skis, you gaze out at the snowy peaks surrounding the lodge you and your friends were staying at. your friends were chatting excitedly near the ski lift, while rafe, the bound of your existence stands off to the side, his usual annoying smirk plastered on his face. you can't help but roll your eyes, you've had to put up with his condescending attitude for years, and the constant bickering between you two has become exhausting and more frequent.

but, for the sake of this trip, you and Rafe agreed to a 72-hour truce as requested from your friends.

now that you had your gear on it was time to start skiing, you and rafe were adrenaline junkies at heart, so you guys made your way to the hard ski slopes as your friends stuck to the easier trails.

as you pause at the top of the ski slope, Rafe looks over at you, "I bet you can't beat me down there," he says, in the most arrogant way possible. you raise an eyebrow, and with a cocky grin on your face you say, "I've been doing this my whole life, good luck!”

rafes smirk widens. "Challenge accepted."

as you fly down the mountain with your skis carving effortless turns, you let out a gut wrenching laugh. You're so far ahead of Rafe, it's humiliating. You pull out your phone to record your dominance, planning to rub it in his face when you reach the bottom. you can't wait to see the look on Rafe's face when you show him the evidence of your victory.

suddenly, he appears out of nowhere, his skis harshly digging into the snow as he catches up to you. You're still holding your phone out, grinning from ear to ear, when he grabs you by the waist and plants a sudden helmet-to-helmet kiss on your cheek.

You're dumbfounded, the laughter dying on your lips. You ski for a few seconds, trying to process what just happened before coming to a stop. You rip off your helmet, tossing it to the ground, and turn to face Rafe, narrowing your eyes.

"What the hell was that?!" you shouted, rafe saunters over, unhitching his helmet, and gives you an innocent look. "What was what?" he asks, pretending like he has no idea what you're talking about.

"You kissed me dumbass!" you accuse. Rafe shrugs, giving you a smile. "That was hardly a kiss. our helmets were in the way." You can't believe his audacity, acting like it was no big deal. “Awe, did a little kiss get you flustered?" Rafe teases.

You immediately shake your head, "Absolutely not, I'd rather die."

Rafe raises an eyebrow, "I think you kind of liked it."

"Not in a million years," you insist.

Rafe takes a step closer, getting a good look at your face. "Your blush says otherwise," he smirks.

we’re you blushing? You thought, you couldn’t tell from how cold it was but you try to brush it off. "It's just the 20 degree weather and skiing down the slopes..."

Rafe interrupts you, “no, the blush when i said kiss… what’s that about?” He asks you jokingly.

You're starting to feel frustrated, trapped in this conversation. "Fine," you mutter, rolling your eyes again. Rafe takes another step closer, to the point where you were mere inches apart, "If it didn't bother you, let me do it again. One kiss. If it bothers you, then fine, but if not, then I'll go down and tell our friends you beat me so hard."

"I'm not gonna like it." you spat.

Rafe took that as an opportunity to his own advantage. "If you do, I get to do it again, and again, and again."

You throw up your hands, "Screw it, fine. Do it." you shrug. Rafe's eyes light up and he leans in, his lips brushing against yours, not connecting just yet, then he grabs you by the waist shoving your bodies together connecting your lips, his tongue slips into your mouth which surprises you and he sort of just does it one sided. you couldn’t lie, although it was one kiss, his plump lips felt so satisfying against yours.

As Rafe pulls back from the kiss, you find yourself leaning forward, your lips still parted, craving more. You're taken aback by your own reaction, but Rafe seems to revel in it. He gives you a smirk, "Yeah, I thought you'd like it.”

You feel a blush rise to your cheeks as you realize you've been caught. Rafe takes advantage of your momentary distraction, leaning in again to capture your lips in another kiss. This time, you don't try to resist. You let yourself get lost in the touch.

his hands cradle your face, rubbing your cheek ever so slightly.

you never thought you’d end up kissing rafe, ever. But since you lost the bet, it seems like you’ll be kissing him more often…

[lifenconcepts]

I absolutely agree with that and am SO happy to find someone similar to me!! I’ve never been one to hate on the shit another finds good but the popularised versions of identities being this half which is just sunshine and rainbows always feels a little unjustified for how much those same people which say ‘embrace the weird! Be yourself! Love others!!’ and say they support those which unapologetically go against what social norm has been formed, suddenly go from all kind to ‘yuck! How can you say that? That doesn’t seem right.. you’re not one of us!’ the very moment you mention you support real fur instead of faux, that hunting and genuinely mauling your food with your hands is okay, feel angry when another animal marks your home or vehicle, or any other variation of not being the ‘aesthetic therian’ others so believe is the ‘only’ way of being alterhuman.

The exact definition that’s been burned into our brains like a branding has gotten boring! There’s no right way to be yourself, because you’re the only one who knows what you actually look like! And no matter how much I see ‘alterhumanity is different for everyone’ I still tend to think that not all really get that into their brains. They take in the words but not the MEANING behind them. I want others to just blatantly face the facts that some find it nice, prefered in fact, to just want to be able to think and act like an animal. None of that explanation of why and how. (I love to find meaning behind everything but that’s simply because my soul craves knowledge) I too sometimes believe it to be great for the simplicity of a creature’s mind. You can enjoy harming another life without some twisted sense of pleasure (although that’s also fine. Huntings dogs were bred to hunt. Ofcourse they will be happy to hunt), to go where you walk simply because it’s what feels right (why must you understand the journey or destination in mind when birds migrate simply by how it feels and where is better? They don’t think ‘oh gee! It’s the 8th of September! I must get going to Portugal otherwise I may not survive the cold!’ Their minds subconsciously gather the temperature change and just vaguely understand they need to fucking go some place warm), and it feels irritating to fight for this in a community that claims to support and understand eachother alot- BUT ANIMALS DO NOT NEED TO EXPLAIN THEMSELVES! They don’t! They don’t decide to just casually start feeling some way and try change to be that, no! They feel a way, and so they are that. And that may change, it may be wrong, but who cares!? Emotion is emotion and sensation is sensation. Whatever feeling comes along then it’s that feeling which is invoked. This makes more sense with examples but I just had to get it off my chest.

You won’t find a flying squirrel explaining to another ‘look, I just don’t feel enough like a rodent enough because I’ve seen the air like the birds and bugs, perhaps I’m not made for this body because I love the air as must as the trees. Is it so wrong?’ No. It’s just living as it fucking needs to, eats shits walks and floats, and will die when it needs to. Our human minds allow for a lot more to do and various things to come of it, but they also are just so much of a plague of questions that assault simple activities. Ah- I could go on for hours, but everyone needs to know that an alterhuman will be alterhuman even if they don’t explain themselves. Maybe someone misunderstood themselves but to what extent does it even matter? Maybe it’s chosen maybe it’s involuntary but why are you policing another? Is life showing any sign of rules? Sure, patterns exist, and there may be exceptions for moral wrong doing, but in the end it’s always up to subjective perception to decide what is right for you. We already have human-made rules, it’s called the law. Don’t kill or abuse others, don’t steal and destroy another’s property, and the rest is up to your grubby little hands to decide (some laws are idiotic I will admit).  And I needed to get this out for a long time but damn it- ALLOW others to exist without a label! Allow yourself to go unlabelled! It’s a common practice but it’s not as neccesary! Do you know how much agony you’ll be spared if you stop going ‘well how much of a Therian am I? What counts as Otherkin? Have I experienced any symptoms of So-and-so in the past month?’ And rather spot what makes you feel better in your body, what brings happiness, and what you do often. The cause ain’t even all that neccesary to understand unless you want to. Just focus on what you feel like and what you want to see in yourself and then you can go all ‘let’s find a word for this’. Honestly. The English language has already so many words, and that’s not even taking into account those which grown lost with time. You really think newly-made terms don’t hold as much value? Or that a single word must explain your own mind and body? Your soul is boundless, but able to be gazed upon at times. So why limit yourself to fit into a new box just to claim you ‘escaped the system!!’ as you once more alter yourself and grow bound to mere words and a fear for others judging you.

Okay that’s a bit off topic now, thanks for the opportunity to ramble, but yeah. Let animals be animals. And animals don’t need to explain themselves, they can blatantly do whatever feels good or right at the moment without it having define their entire existence or life. Animals can be dirty, mean, confusing, nasty, dangerous, scary, but still have nice qualities. And even if not, it is not their fault.

Never ever mistake me. I am not just in favor of the uwu romantic version Being An Animal. It's not all moodboards and waxing poetic about tails/wings/etc and running in the forest wild and free. All of that stuff is GOOD and FINE and a nice outlet for all flavors of nonhumans, please do not stop engaging with that sort of thing. I'm talking about me also wanting to embrace the gross and so-called ugly and less fortunate aspects of animality. like when you're wrestling a large prey animals into submission so you can eat that day but it fuckin Gets You with a claw/antler/horn/hoof/beak/etc and suddenly you're hurt real bad. Lost an eye, a toe, half your tail. Got a permanent limp from being stomped so hard that will make hunting difficult so you may not live your full natural lifespan. dying of severe cold or heat and then your body decomposing slowly, being food for other things. scent marking with piss, shit, musk. being young and inexperienced so you go without food for days cuz you can't hunt for shit.

there is no part of animality that is something I don't desire. I want it all, because all of me is animal. does it suck to downgrade from human sized complex brain to smaller wolverine brain? No not really! I am not mourning the loss of things I never asked for in the first place. sure I could say that woo, less complex brain means less capacity for things to go wrong, but that is a very human lens to look through. does a wolverine know it's "lucky" that it cannot have certain human mental illnesses because its brain may not be that complex? no, and that's why I'm not worried. I could turn into one fully physically overnight and then die stupidly 2 years later and that would still be ideal. sure I also may romanticize some things in ways that are not really Natural for my species, like how I think places that feel like Home just seem so beautiful to me, but no damn animal is perfect. I am allowed a couple flaws. several, in fact, lmao.

I Crave It All

[poetinthelakes]

SPEAK NOW . . . . gojo satoru .ᐟ

LYRICS. horrified looks from everyone in the room but i'm only looking at you ──────ex-husbands!gojo x fem!reader ⋆

NOTES. part two of this scenario, i think everything is a bit rushed so i didn't like it so much but anw, happy ending!! i wanted to write something angsty but ended up doing this, enjoy and thank you for the support <3 .ᐟ

Gojo Satoru’s heart had never raced as wildly as it was beating at this moment. The anxiety and nervousness coursing through him as he sprinted towards the venue where his ex-wife was getting married was unmatched.

Had you already said “I do”? Were you thinking about him? Had Megumi and Tsumiki managed to delay the ceremony long enough for him to get there on time?

A flood of questions swirled in his mind, none of which would be answered until he reached the place where you stood at the altar, dressed in for the white veil occasion with a man that didn’t deserve you in the slightest.

When he got there, a man in a suit stopped him, asking what did he want.

“I’m Gojo Satoru, i'm here for the wedding of Yn Ln and Kenji Hirano, where are they?” he demanded breathlessly, the desperation in his voice growing more evident.

“Oh, Miss Yn and Mr. Kenji are on the third floor, the main hall to the right and—” the man began, but before he could finish, the white-haired man bolted towards the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator.

Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes.

The voice of an officiant became clearer and clearer as he neared the hall where the love of his life was about to get married.

“If anyone has a valid reason to object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace,” Satoru heard just as he reached the doors. A tense silence filled the room.

It seemed like his kids had executed the plan exactly as they'd rehearsed.

The man with ocean-blue eyes pushed the doors open dramatically, causing every head to turn towards him with horrified looks but Satoru didn’t care about anyone else in the room, his eyes were solely on you as he strode confidently to where you stood. Your surprised expression, as if straight out of a soap opera, met his.

“Satoru? W-what are you doing here? how did—?” you stammered, your eyes flickering briefly to where your kids stood, grinning in delight.

“I, Gojo Satoru, object to this wedding,” he declared, turning to face the man who was just minutes away from becoming your husband. Then, he shifted his gaze to the officiant as he added, “This man doesn’t deserve Yn, he doesn’t love her. And i don’t think she loves him either.”

“What the hell are you talking about, you idiot?” Kenji shot back angrily.

“I’m talking about how you’ve been using her all this time. Don’t think you can fool me, because i know you’re no saint,” Satoru said, eliciting shocked gasps from the crowd.

“Love, this man has cheated on you more than once, lying about loving you while sneaking around with other women behind your back,” he revealed, making your jaw drop in disbelief.

“What? Is that true, Kenji?” you demanded, your voice tinged with denial, unable to process what Satoru just said.

Obviously your fiancé immediately started to deny everything.

“Of course not! t-this idiot is just making things up to stop you from marrying me!” Kenji protested, growing increasingly nervous, so much that you began to suspect that Satoru was telling the truth but it was clear that your ex-husband was the only one being honest.

“I have photos, Yn, if you wanna see them. . .” Satoru began, pulling out his phone, but you stopped him by placing your hand on his.

Shaking your head, you replied, “You don’t need to show me anything. I believe you, Satoru.”

“You do?” he asked, hope lighting up his face.

“Of course i do, you would never lie to me about something like this. I know you, Satoru,” you said and the white-haired man smiled softly just as your kids ran up to join you both, leaving Kenji staring in disbelief.

“Let’s go, Mom! The car’s waiting,” Megumi said, and Tsumiki held up your car keys with a grin, making you smile softly as well.

“Well? what do you say?” Satoru asked eagerly, his eyes filled with that irresistible look you could never say no to.

The room buzzed with whispers as the guests ───and your family─── awaited your response.

You took a moment to think before soflty nodding, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Let’s go,” you said, smiling at the only man who had ever truly captured your heart.

With no hesitation, Satoru grabbed your hand, and the two of you bolted towards the exit, Megumi and Tsumiki following close behind as Kenji yelled after you, begging for you to come back.

This was a decision you knew you’d never regret.

BONUS .ᐟ

“You drive me crazy, angel,” said your now-boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, giving you a mischievous grin after what had been the best night you’d had in a long time.

Your bare body wrapped in nothing but a sheet, and the man of your dreams lying beside you made it feel like a dream you never wanted to wake up from.

“I love you, Satoru,” you murmured, looking at him with a smile as you leaned in to give him a fervent kiss. Satoru placed one hand on your waist and the other on your cheek, caressing it tenderly.

“I love you more, sweetheart,” he whispered, peppering your body with soft kisses, making you laugh and wonder how you'd ever thought of ending your marriage with someone as wonderful as him.

This time, Satoru wasn’t going to let you go, and you knew you’d never want to leave his side ever again.

© POETINTHELAKES 2025

[girlfishes]

Hi, I was wondering what convinced you to believe in Radical Feminism?

This answer took way too long for me to write, and for that I’m sorry. I struggled a lot with writing this response, because I simply had too much to say. I started with trying to explain as much theory as I could and then I realized that I was basically writing a book which you didn’t ask for.

You asked not why radical feminism is correct or why it makes sense, but why I believe in it. I believe it can do for women what liberal feminism and queer theory are incapable of. Free us.

I do believe that many individual queer activists are genuine in their desire for human rights and freedoms. So why do I think the movement continues the patriarchy?

Modern liberals and their activists have become infatuated with subversion for its own sake. It’s fun to go against the grain. It’s sexy to be different and unexpected, to “queer the boundaries”. However queerness cannot stand on its own; it must be queer in relation to something. The word “queer” means strange, after all.

Subversion itself depends on the context in which it is preformed. And the context is patriarchy. Those who find such delight in the subversion will fight to uphold the backdrop in which their actions and identity remain subversive. In order to continue giving the finger to the establishment, the establishment must remain. In this way queer activism has a vested interest in upholding the patriarchy.

This kind of activism will always be futile, because subversion for its own sake has no end except for its own continuation.

When I say “this kind of activism” I mean activism that is focused on making aesthetic changes and statements instead of fighting for structural changes. This activism comes in the form of an intense focus on changing language, making art, and individual development and identity-making. None of these things are necessarily bad, and can even serve useful, but they are not sufficient for structural change.

While activists are operating solely on this aesthetic level, oppression continues in material ways. A female human being can change her pronouns or the clothes she wears and find a million different micro labels for herself and draw her own pride flag, but she will still be oppressed because of the body she has. Abortion bans will still exist. Rape still happens. Medical misogyny, period poverty, child marriage, and pornography still exist. Queer activists do all of the aesthetic and preformative activism and then pat themselves on the back as if they have changed anything outside of their own head.

Radical feminism focuses on the material world, and the real issues that physically affect billions of women everyday. We recognize that changing words does not change reality and we are willing and able to meet oppression where it finds us: in the physical world. We do not think “how can I be subversive within patriarchy”, but “how can we dismantle the patriarchy”. We don’t search to find a gender that makes sense for our personal experience because we recognize that gender itself only makes sense in the context of female subservience. We disavow cultural relativism. We have clear goals that don’t move and that we will know when they are achieved. We know what we want, and our goals still make sense outside of the context of patriarchy, because they are based on material outcomes for real women.

Queerness doesn’t exist if patriarchy doesn’t exist. But radical feminism stands apart from any cultural context. And that is why I believe in it.

[seven10th]

When It Rains It Pours

pairing: hwang jun-ho x f!reader

summary: the odd police man you keep taking around to different islands reveal something that’s very familiar at the club you work at.

warning: none tbh, but reader has a bit of lore because I like world building lol :3 she has two jobs: the main one is working as a bottle girl at a HipHop club in Hongdae, the second one is captain of a small touristic boat she manages, which she followed as a passion. Also, I describe her as foreign in this for some small details but that can be ignored :D

word count : 1.3k o.0

This is my first try at a fanfic so advice is welcomed :3

September 24th, 2023

The weather has been less than kind lately, and paired up with the odd client Captain Park has redirected to you, you came to realise that maybe the tours you took in the summer for schoolchildren to see how it was on a boat were something you took for granted.

“Can you go north two hundred meters mor-“

“No.” You responded to Jun-ho, the man that kept you occupied, yet paid. “There’s too many rock formations underneath the water ahead. They might puncture the motor or the bottom of the boat. Or you if you chose to dive here.”

You couldn’t tell if he kept suggesting doing stupid things intentionally or not. He was a detective, for fuck’s sake. You did your research before agreeing on taking him on these trips, not believing it was really a man working in the korean police system that could spend almost every waking second on a boat, searching for some secret island.

As he puts on his diving suit, you glance at the photo copy of the card used to coax people into joining the game. A circle, a triangle and a fucking square are holding this man in a short leash, all his energy put into the search for this damn island…  You didn’t help him because he paid heavy, he was relatively polite or you pitied him when Captain Park told him his boat was broke… No.

It was because of that damn pink solider.

September 2nd, 2022

Since the weather got chillier, you had to lessen the ammount of trips you’d make each month, now doing them thrice a week, causing you to take more shifts at W-East Coast, a well known club in Hongdae, popular amongst both locals and tourists. Blasting Hip-hop and rap music at every waking hour,bustling with customers and bottle girls in the main area and private dancers in the back, the club was a tourist attraction itself.

And so were you. Of course you were a bit deflated upon seeing a line of girls holding their cvs, all dressed up head to toe in attire fitting for the club’s theme.

“Finally! Ma giiiiiirl!”

Upon entering the manager’s office, you were welcomed by a very stuffy room, walls covered in record cases, basket jerseys and random awards won by the club. The manager, a guy in his early 30’s greeted you cheerfuly as he held his hand up to dap him. Upon you doing so, he snatched your CV, barely paying attention to it as he turned back to look at you.

“You’re hired! Ah, you’re perfect for this job! A godsend if I say so.” He circled you, not in a creepy way but… it definitelly made you a bit awkward and confused onto why you were the perfect candidate yet when much more experienced and probably korean speaking girls were lining up for hours outsi-

“A foreigner will be perfect as a bottlegirl! Dad’s gonna be super proud of me for finding a foreigner to do this…And ya aint bad lookin either’… just need a bit of… Glam!” The manager grinned as you understood exactly why you were the perfect choice.

Not that you were complaining. No. It was actually one of the best jobs since you have been hunting them in Korea.

A club where music in a language you knew was played, surrounded by people who simply were amazed by the fact you were… you. And to be honest, you started to like 50 Cent’s songs despite them being overplayed. Salary raises came easy, especially if the manager, who you learned called himself Ty, reference to the overplayed artist, called you in for music management. It did help for your reccomendation to write ‘Assistant manager’ afterall.

Octomber 31st, 2022

Your boat hours were cut even shorter with the shortening of the day, meaning you took more and more shifts at W-East Coast, making you one of the most popular bottle girls. The customers were a bit shy to order from you, especially when you took the extroverted and friendly persona. And maybe you felt a bit like an animal in a zoo with how they looked at you all the time, sticking out even between the bottle girls, which only three more were foreigners… but it paid well. Matter of fact, very well. So well that…

“Nah, man. Sorry. I’m just the server. Dancers are back there.” You spoke from behind the bar as you refilled a ice bucket when a guy in a pink jumpsuit approached. His voice was muffled by the balck mask he wore, a white square on it.

“My boss can pay you very well. They have shown an interest in you, and are willing to spend any sum.” The guy continued, very insistent. Usually, they’d leave or ask for a photo, but this time, you felt something was odd, really odd. With the skill you earned after working for 2 months there, you looked around the club to see another 2 bottle girls having some odd business card in their back pockets, identitcal to the one the pink guy slid to you over the bar. A idea began to shape in your mind seeing as the two girls who got the card were the foreign ones, the korean bottle girls not having any on them.

You tried to ignore him, working onto the expensive order you just got but he only kept going.

“It wouldn’t take much of your time. And it’s very discreet. No one you know would know.”

Seeing you still ignoring him, he gave up but slid the card further towards you, only moving when you finally pocketed it with a roll of your eyes.

“Really? No fucking tip? And he says he knows a rich guy…” You muttered to yourself before going to serve your table, now more aware of the people looking at you. Did you really stick out that much?

September 24th, 2023

Your spaced out a bit, the memories of the halloween party from last year resurfacing in your mind, the same card in the photograph was in your drawer in the small apartment you rented.

“The one in the club didn’t seem to have a gun…” You muttered while thinking of how Jun-ho described the guards he interacted with… Tracksuit, room, guns, shapes, circle, triangle, square- It was all a big mush of ideas on the notebook he carried, which you’d look through when he’d be diving in search for some phone ‘he lost’.

A few minutes passed in a haze as you looked at the surface of the wtaer, realising the only person who had an explanation for the weird guy that day was a good few meters under the water, the sea a bit aggitated. A knot formed in your throat and suddenly you were up, tugging at the iron chain that held him connected to the boat. You pulled on it until he finally came to the surface, gasping for air.

“HEY! What was that for?” He yelled, a bit angry from being yanked out. Yet you didn’t have any explanation. You simply stared at hime, blank faced before speaking stern.

“The weather is worse. Get out of the water unless you want the waves to ragdoll your ass around those rocks.” You commanded. It was a lie. The water was okay-ish for the time of the year but a sudden fear ran through you. You have been working with him for a good three months now but couldn’t say you developed any relationship besides the customer-worker one… it was the information he knew and the strong will that drove him to keep on searching for the island that made you realise just how serious this could actually be…

[blue-jacket-blues]

Event Horizon is a very good movie but that is not the point of this post right now. Extremely long post about speculative clone biology and what might have happened to Gabriel had Hux and the Entity not intervened under the cut

Over its many years of operation, Huxlee Industries has refined its narrative-building techniques to create increasingly detailed and intricate false memories for its cloned subjects. Where appropriate, the lab technicians responsible for programming the clones' narrative memories will manufacture fictional romantic relationships as well as familial ones. The decision to add prior romantic partners to a clone's falsified memories must be handled carefully - Huxlee's narrative builders have to program their clone subjects with enough memories to create the illusion of a full life lived, but this narrative cannot be TOO detailed, or the clone may experience psychological instability from a perceived loss of connection to their fictional loved ones. Romantic entanglements are typically only programmed in when it is deemed necessary to offset a potential personality flaw in the subject. A clone manufactured to express bold, adventurous behavior is an asset to any colonization mission, but these traits could just as easily spell disaster if that clone decides to go rogue and flee into the alien wilds. Programming their memories to include a girlfriend waiting up for them back home on Earth, however, encourages them to stick with the mission. They have someone to get home to, after all. Or at least they think that they do.

All non-settler-population clone lineage formulas are manufactured to produce sterile clones, since any unplanned clone pregnancies would result in lower mission productivity and potential profit loss. Clones with uteri and ovaries still undergo a menstrual cycle every month to maintain the subject's internal narrative and psychological stability. Clones with testes produce nonviable sperm. [Data gathered by top Huxlee Industries scientists indicates that the average volume of clone ejaculate is slightly higher than those of non-clones (5-7mL for clones compared to 1.5-5mL for non-clones). It is unclear why this is but they have their top scientists working on unraveling this crucial mystery.] This, however, doesn't mean that clone pregnancies are impossible. Life finds a way. More specifically, Huxlee can't completely prevent random mutations from happening that reverse or weaken the sterilization process, although this phenomenon is extremely rare. It is highly unlikely that any fetus conceived by clone parents would survive to full term, and even less likely that this hypothetical child would survive for more than a few days to a month after birth. Huxlee's clone gene pool is very carefully monitored and "pruned" when it is deemed necessary to maintain "batch" purity, and clone pregnancies carry an extremely high risk of fatal birth defects. To try and further mitigate the risk of clone/clone sexual activity and potential pregnancies, Huxlee will often incorporate libido-lowering pharmaceuticals into the clones' nutrient paste.

Clones are, by default, programmed to be heterosexual and cisgender. This, thankfully, is an easier condition to reverse than the laboratory-mandated sterilization process. Same-sex clone relationships are not necessarily discouraged, as there is no associated pregnancy risk with such a coupling (which is Huxlee's primary concern when it comes to clone team interaction), though clone romantic entanglements of any kind are generally discouraged and are minimized wherever possible.

Gabriel was not the first clone to experience doubts about his identity, but he is the first clone to actually discover the truth and live to tell the tale. Dmitri was the only person aboard the Caracas III with knowledge of the cloning program and was fully aware that Gabriel (and the remaining eight crewmen) were clones. However, Huxlee constructed Dmitri's personal narrative in such a way that he firmly believed he was the only non-clone aboard the ship and had been sent on the mission to monitor the clone labor force. His orders were to maintain the subjects' personal narratives at all costs. Firstly by verbal deception, using the mandatory psychological evaluation periods to assess each crew member for signs of "narrative instability". Internally, this was referred to as "Stage I Redirection". If the crew member still displayed signs of instability after repeated verbal redirection, Dmitri was authorized to administer hypospray as necessary ("Stage II Redirection"). Had Hux not massacred the crew when he did, Gabriel would have been subjected to Stage III Redirection - termination. Stage III was a true last resort, but was deemed necessary to prevent the subject's instability from impacting the other crew members or adversely affecting the mission. After obtaining Stage III authorization from the Huxlee project manager responsible for reviewing the Dvarka mission's progress, Dmitri would have been given access to the manufacturing formula for a last-resort secret pharmaceutical - a single dose of Aldicide, a colorless, odorless, tasteless, and virtually untraceable method of euthanasia. Dmitri's orders were to mix the Aldicide into Gabriel's evening nutrient paste ration and quietly monitor the events to come. Death by Aldicide is peaceful, for the most part. Aldicide poisoning begins with a sudden wave of fatigue, which would have been easily explained away as general end-of-day tiredness, and a creeping sensation of coldness in the fingers and toes as blood circulation begins to slow. The victim typically falls asleep about 30 - 45 minutes after ingestion. Death follows sleep as the body slowly slips into a state of paralysis. Function is first lost in the limbs, graduating to major organ failure as the Aldicide takes hold. Death by cardiac arrest occurs approximately 1.5 - 2 hours after ingestion. This may seem like a prolonged and cruel method of euthanasia, but Huxlee designed Aldicide poisoning to take place across this timeframe on purpose. The intention was to deliver as painless of a death as possible, both to ensure that the victim did not panic and harm other crewmen or company property on their way out and to reduce crew suspicion. A sudden death raises questions; dying in your sleep under some sort of freak accidental circumstances is far less suspicious. Had Dmitri received authorization for Stage III Redirection, Gabe would have had time to say his good-nights to the rest of the crew before turning in early and, from everyone else's perspective, would have died peacefully in his sleep. Ironically, Hux saved Gabe's life by going on his little rampage. Dmitri had been communicating with Huxlee in secret throughout the final few weeks of the Dvarka mission, trying to find a solution to Gabriel's instability that didn't involve drugging him into oblivion with hypospray or dosing him with Aldicide. Shortly before Hux cut the power to the Caracas III's life support systems, Dmitri received Stage III Redirection authorization from Huxlee's project management board. Gabriel would have been killed the following night. Following all company procedures related to the handling of human remains, his body would have been incinerated aboard the Caracas III.

[pa-pa-plasma]

fucking hate fighting with people's who's main strategy is straight up lying & screaming & crying until you give up trying to even attempt communicating. just coming up with the most batshit, insane lies they can think of to slander you & they literally just don't fucking stop, like persistence predator shit except they're just doing it to avoid having to take responsibility. what the fuck is going on in that kind of person's brain

[britneyshakespeare]

I feel like certain people on Tumblr have really been fighting for backwards progress when it comes to how we talk about mental illness and abuse. I see posts at least several times a week on my dash that seem to have the purpose of implying people with insert-mental-illness and/or insert-symptom are not abusive when they do insert-action-that-makes-people-uncomfortable, often times meaning to promote a more positive image of people with particularly stigmatized conditions, like personality disorders, mood disorders, psychosis, addiction, or neurodivergence. And I really really hate it because these posts almost always have the ultimate purpose of telling people not just "This thing is not inherently abusive," but often it comes across as "You were not abused."

I just find that to be really unhelpful and unintentionally hurtful, and for what? I believe that destigmatizing various mental conditions is a worthy cause, but at the same time this type of rhetoric seems to be so protective of people in whichever stigmatized group they're trying to advocate for, that it comes back around to a sort of respectability politics. Anybody can be an abuser. And someone's means and methods of abusing can very much be influenced by a condition they have. Why wouldn't it be? Their conditions will affect every aspect of their life and their interpersonal relationships. Especially if these issues are going untreated or being insufficiently managed. I don't understand why anyone would want to make it appear as if abusers are mostly neurotypical and mentally well people, or that if they aren't, then their conditions have nothing to do with it and the overlap is merely incidental. What? It makes it so hard for anyone who is a victim to come to terms and identify the dynamics of what they've gone through.

Addicts and mentally ill people don't have to be unproblematic in order to be humanized and accepted. And nobody profits from writing hard and fast rules about how abuse apparently works, drawing clear lines between which behaviors can, and cannot, ever be abuse.

[kavehayati]

It’s so interesting how you use a comparator which ties into your senses to compare a moment in time to the stark difference of how you’re feeling right now, if that makes any sense ? But then when you feel that momentary nice feeling you felt in the past you realise just how different things are now, and you knew it was weird and different but you didn’t realise it’s gotten THAT bad

[forehead451]

stream of consciousness type deal.

[jin-zixun]

the desire to write glee s6 au fic

vs

the desire to not watch glee s6 which would be an implicit requirement to properly writing s6 au fic

[traegorn]

while i completely agree with your assessment of realistically what a trump vs harris presidency will look like, i think the issue me and a lot of other leftists have is that there is no need to tell people (and effectively tell harris) that oh ofc we are gna vote for her despite these issues because trump is THAT bad and if you say you don't want to vote for her because her party is pro-war, pro-genocide, then you are condemning americans to a trump presidency. we know trump is worse! i don't want him to win AT ALL, but why would harris even consider even changing the language she is using (i'm looking at the absolutely stupid speech she was giving in michigan, given the large arab & muslim-american population there and given its a battleground state) if she thinks she is going to win on a not-trump basis? i know who i'm voting for on nov 5th if it comes down to it, but we need the democrats to THINK they are going to lose until the very last minute, we need them to feel like they can't just rely on being the lesser of two evils if we want any chance of a shift on palestine. because they very well might lose, for this exact reason (and i'm speaking again more to the votes of the arab & muslim-american population which is far more demographically meaningful than the votes of leftists) and if that happens, they have no one to blame but themselves.

So I'm going to tell you something important: You don't have the leverage you think you have.

Political campaigns are a machine that's been operating the same way for a long time on the Democratic side. The Republicans may have abandoned a lot of the old ways of doing things, but the Democratic party hasn't. And you've got people running these campaigns who are steeped in the "wisdom" of how you win.

And when a block of voters says they're not going to vote for their candidate, they tend to believe them. So they decide to go court the people who they think will vote for them. That's why you've seen the Harris campaign trying to court moderate Republicans who might be iffy on voting for Trump a third time.

Right now one of the reasons Netanyahu is refusing to commit to a cease fire is because he thinks Trump can win. If Trump wins, he has no reason to ever agree to one. One of the reasons he thinks Trump can win is because the polling is so close.

If you want to know why they've gone to the right recently, it's because they think they've lost the left. And since a lot of those leftists are claiming there's a line in the sand that they don't have the power to appease (because -- again -- they can't get Netanyahu to do shit right now), they're going to go for the centrist Republicans.

Also, there seems to be this weird notion that the only way to move the Democrats is during the election. That's not how you move people. You keep pressuring them during their term and it works. Like Biden is continuing to work on forgiving student debt even though he doesn't have an election ahead of him. Because they know that what he does reflects on the future of the party. Voting doesn't end this game, it's the start of it.

But none of it will matter if Trump wins.

[lizziesangel]

RAFE CAMERON ⟢ high maintenance

x HIGH MAINTENANCE!FEM!reader ⟢ MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: 5 times rafe realises his girlfriend is high maintenance + 2 bonus scenes

WORD COUNT: 1286

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: nothing

the first time

it started when rafe picked you up for a casual day out, only to find you carefully examining your nails in the passenger seat.

“ugh,” you groaned, holding out your hand to show him. “can you believe this? this nail tech totally botched this set. the gems aren’t even symmetrical.”

rafe glanced at your hand, blinking in confusion. “they look… fine to me?”

you shot him a glare. “fine? they’re crooked, rafe. i can’t be seen like this.”

“whatever, i’ll just go to my monthly nail tech next time,” you shook your head.

“monthly? as in, every month?” he asked, leaning in his car seat.

“of course,” you said, flipping your hair as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “you can’t just let them grow out, rafe. that’s tacky.”

you kissed his cheek and went to connect your phone with his car. he thought about at meticulously done french tips you just had done two weeks ago. if it makes you happy, right?

the second time

the first time he tried to make spontaneous plans with you was a disaster.

“hey, babe,” he said over the phone, “thinking we hit the beach today. i’ll be there in twenty.”

A horrified gasp escaped you. “twenty minutes? babe, no. i just had my hair done yesterday.”

“…and?”

“and? saltwater will ruin the toner!” you exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “do you even know how much a balayage costs?”

rafe didn’t know what a balayage was, but he learned quickly that your trips to the salon were not just occasional—they were events. events with price tags that could make a grown man cry. still, he couldn’t help but smirk as you swished your freshly done hair around dramatically during your next date

the third time

when you asked rafe to come shopping with you, he thought it’d be a quick errand—maybe one or two stores, tops. he quickly realized his mistake when you pulled him into the fifth boutique, arms already laden with bags.

two hours and three swiped credit cards later, rafe sat on a plush bench outside the fitting rooms, holding more bags than he could count.

“this season’s prada bag is finally in stock,” you announced, practically dragging him into the store. “and i need something new for dinner with my parents.”

“don’t you already have a closet full of clothes?” he teased as you rifled through racks.

“yes, but these are the new trends,” you said without looking up. “and besides, i need something for dinner this weekend.”

he laughed, shaking his head. “you already have a hundred dresses.”

“and yet none of them are right for this,” you said, holding up a sleek black gown.

“you buy new clothes every month?” he asked, watching as you tried on yet another dress.

“obviously,” you said, rolling your eyes. “what do you expect me to do, repeat outfits?”

rafe had never thought about it, but seeing how happy you looked with your fresh haul, he just laughed. “good thing i’m strong enough to carry all this,” he teased.

the fourth time

rafe was over at your place for a movie night when he spotted the lineup of perfume bottles on your dresser.

“do you seriously wear all of these?” he asked, picking one up.

“of course,” you said, settling onto the bed. “different occasions call for different scents. this one’s for daytime, that one’s for formal events, and this—” you pointed at another bottle, “—is my absolute favorite.”

rafe blinked. “you have a preference for perfumes?”

“well, duh. scent is everything. i buy a new one every season,” you say showing him a few. “like, this jimmy choo one is for summer, but this guess one is definitely for winter. but, the versace is for every season good.”

he squinted at the price tag on the one he was holding and let out a low whistle. “how often do you buy these?”

“whenever i run out or find a new one i love,” you said matter-of-factly.

rafe thought about his one bottle of cologne that he’d had for years and shook his head in disbelief. but when you leaned closer during the movie and he caught the faint scent of your perfume, he couldn’t deny that you always smelled amazing.

the fifth time

waking up groggy, rafe stumbled what your walk-in closet while looking for the bathroom. What greeted him was a wall of shoes—heels, sneakers, boots, all perfectly organized by color and style.

“jeez,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“oh, you’re up!” you chirped, appearing behind him. “do you like it? i just added those Jimmy Choos last week.”

rafe turned to you, half-amused, half-shocked. “you have more shoes than i have shirts.”

you grinned, unabashed. “well, yeah. shoes complete the look.”

shaking his head, rafe pulled you into his arms. “you’re insane, you know that?” he said, though the affection in his voice betrayed him.

you smirked. “but you wouldn’t change a thing.”

he kissed your forehead. “not even if i wanted to.”

+1

sarah and john b were lounging in the living room, casually catching up with rafe and you. you were perched on the arm of rafe’s chair, fiddling with your phone, when sarah suddenly leaned forward and sniffed the air dramatically.

“wait,” she said, scrunching her nose slightly. “what perfume are you wearing? it smells… expensive.”

you barely looked up, but rafe beat you to it. without hesitation, he leaned back and said, “probably something from her summer collection. she switches them every season.”

sarah froze, staring at her brother like he’d just announced he was running for president. “her what?”

rafe nodded casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “yeah, she’s into, like, jimmy choo or victoria’s secret or whatever. smells good, right?”

john b raised an eyebrow, looking between you and rafe. “dude, you know all her perfume brands?”

he shrugged, smirking as he kissed your temple. “gotta stay on top of it, man.”

sarah exchanged a wide-eyed look with john b, but you just beamed at rafe, completely unfazed.

+2

rafe, topper, and kelcd were hanging out on the dock, beers in hand, waiting for you to finish getting ready for dinner. the two were deep in conversation about their latest antics when rafe’s phone buzzed.

he glanced at the message and smirked.

“she says she needs ten more minutes,” rafe said, pocketing his phone.

topper groaned. “bro, she takes forever. what’s even the holdup this time?”

“probably her nails,” rafe said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his beer. “she just got them done last week, and there’s no way she’s ruining them before dinner.”

kelce nearly spit out his drink. “what?”

topper leaned forward, eyes wide. “hold up—you know her nail schedule? and her hair appointments?”

“something to do with chrome nails, i dunno.”

“dude,” kelce finally said, breaking the silence. “you’re, like… domesticated.”

“and she’s got that fresh hair thing going on too,” he added, shrugging. “she just had an appointment like… two weeks ago? a balayage, she won’t let anything mess with it. saltwater, wind, whatever—she’s not about that life.”

topper and kelce stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“what is a balgage?”

“no- a balayage.”

“how do you even know all that?” topper asked, baffled.

rafe frowned, genuinely confused by their reaction. “what do you mean? it’s just her routine. not that hard to keep track of.”

kelce laughed, shaking his head. “dude, you’ve got it bad. like, whipped bad.”

rafe rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. “maybe. but, hey, at least i get to date a princess.”

[dollfacefantasy]

clark kent x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, car sex, mating press a/n: ummm yeah i need him so bad it makes me ill <3

for as long as you'd known clark, you'd never known him to lose his temper. he was forever-patient, your boyfriend. understanding to almost a frustrating degree. especially with you, his little love.

he was already pretty easy to get along with, but on the rare occasion you did have issues, clark seemed to have a natural instinct for deescalating you. he never raised his voice, never spoke an unkind word about you, never gave you a look harsher than what could be described as stern.

all it took to calm you down was a glimpse of his natural puppy-dog eyes and pretty plush lips. his thick arms would circle around you and hold you to his chest. he'd sway back and forth with you a little, a small smile on his face as you melted into the embrace. whatever semblance of tension or irritation that had been bubbling up easily dissolved into a puddle between the two of your bodies.

so, all that to say, you didn't really believe clark possessed any kind of rough edge or combative instinct. despite his large stature, you couldn't really picture him ever being rough.

that was until tonight.

you and clark had planned to drop by some event at the talon, but your sweet boyfriend had warned you earlier that he found out there'd probably be some trouble there later. some potentially dangerous situation that he wanted you avoiding at all costs. it was for your safety. he just wanted you to stay home where he wouldn't be worried while him and chloe investigated.

but did you listen to him? of course not. you went anyways, not in the mood to listen to his vague explanations as to how he even discovered this information in the first place. you put on a cute little dress with some new shoes you bought specifically for the night and took off.

unfortunately for you, clark had turned out to be right. not even thirty minutes after you arrived, chaos broke out. people flew through walls and glass shattered everywhere, all because of some guy who looked like his body could stretch and bend like a rubberband. it totally sucked. but none of that was even the worst part. you survived the craziness of whatever that person's problem was. the real danger came when the dust settled and you saw clark across the room staring at you.

he looked pissed.

he was at your side in an instant, but closing the distance didn't soften him any. it kind of did the opposite since up close he could see a bloody scrape stretching across your cheekbone.

you could see he was worried first and foremost, but behind that concerned top coat a fire burned. as soon as your small wound had been tended to, his long fingers clasped around your bicep. he pulled you to your feet and all but dragged you out of the coffee shop.

"clark i-" you started in an attempt to explain yourself.

"save it," he said, voice as cold as you'd ever heard it, "i asked you for one thing. that's it. stay home for your own good. don't come out here and pointlessly risk your life."

"it wasn't that bad," you defend weakly.

"but why even take the chance?" he asked with true exasperation, "i shouldn't need to convince you that your safety is more important than whatever they had going on tonight."

he didn't continue the lecture beyond that. just walked with a clenched jaw and motivated stare in the direction of his truck. like always, he opened the door for you when you got there. though this time, he practically scooped you up and dumped you into the car.

he was silent as he drove, fingers tight around the steering wheel. you could practically feel the frustration rolling off of him. the urge to lash out for once was near spilling over. he pulled the car over, and you figured you were really in for it. in a way you were right, just not how you thought.

clark didn't bother yelling, didn't try to start a fight. he glared at you for a few silent seconds before leaning across the seats and crashing his lips against yours. he kissed you like he wanted to steal the breath from your lungs.

after a blur of clothing being shifted around and positioning body parts awkwardly in the confined space, you found yourself in the meanest mating press of your life.

you were folded in half beneath all of clark's weight. the points of your new heels scraped up the truck's ceiling while your knees squished against your chest. little squeaks and whines slipped their way out of you as his tip battered against your cervix. he was so deep you swore you could feel your insides rearranging to make room for him.

"clarkkkk," you mewled before biting your lip, desperately searching for some way to ground yourself. one set of your fingers gripped strands of his dark hair while the other held a fist of his flannel.

"what, baby?" he panted. for once, clark wasn't fawning over you between thrusts. he wasn't cooing or praising you for taking him so well. instead, he had his face against your neck and his hands wrapped around your waist, bucking into your dripping heat with enough force to rock the car.

you tried to force out words to convey what you were thinking. too big. too much. so deep. harder. faster. none of those made it though. only choked moans and then a sharp squeal when he rolled his hips and struck that extra-sensitive sweet spot inside you.

"someone's gonna see if they drive by," you whimpered, squirming underneath him.

"maybe you should hold still then and let me finish, huh?" he grunted, "no one's gonna see. everyone's in town dealing with the mess from tonight. the one i told you was gonna happen."

"i didn't think-"

"i know you didn't," he interrupted, "didn't use that pretty little head at all, did you?"

words of defense eluded you right now, his nonstop thrusts keeping your mind cloudy. instead you chose to whine, your lip quivering he rolled his hips deeper yet again.

"oh yeah?" he asked, as if you'd said something coherent.

you opened your mouth again to speak, to really argue back this time, but you were cut off by your own desperate cry when his hands tugged you closer and speared you even further on his cock. you could feel him grinning against your neck at the noise.

"i know, baby. i know you're sorry. you don't have to explain. thinking's too hard for you right now, yeah?" he cooed, his tone bordering on mocking.

your pout got more severe but so did the needy sounds escaping your mouth. you felt those long fangs of his scrape against your throat. his tongue then glided across the area, making you shudder.

"clark-" you tried to say something else, but he cut you off. he raised his head up and kissed you deep again, swallowing the words right from your mouth. when he pulled back for air, he rested his sweaty forehead against yours.

"you can be such a brat," he breathed, "so much whining even though i know you love this."

the truck creaked as his movements continued to jostle it. you felt his breath fanning across your face and watched as his eyes fluttered shut. you knew he was getting close, but so were you. your cunt squeezed around him rhythmically, coaxing him too the edge along with you.

"you gonna cum, baby?" he finally muttered against your lips.

you nodded eagerly, more than ready to release. it only took a few more hard thrusts to get you there, and clark followed along no problem. in the afterglow, he laid on top of you for a minute or so, trapping you in a cage of searing body heat.

when he finally did sit up, the two of you fixed your clothes and stretched your limbs. he looked over at you with more tenderness. your boyfriend's gentle temperament had seemingly returned with the relief his peak brought.

he cupped your jaw with his fingers, looking over that cut on your face. leaning in, he gave it a small kiss before starting up the car again.

"i'm just trying to look out for you, you know? just... please listen next time. i don't know what i'd do if you got hurt. you had me worried sick."

"i will. i'm sorry i scared you," you replied softly. your eyes studied the loving look in his eyes and the way his features seemed so at peace now that all his adrenaline was out of his system.

you grabbed his hand across the seats and traced little patterns on his knuckles for the drive home. he let you play with his fingers but shot you a glance.

"i'm serious. next time you get involved with something like that i won't let you off so easy," he teased.

you smiled and nodded, wanting to put his mind at ease. though in the back of your mind, a small part of you considered trying again some time, just to see what "not so easy" looked like to him.