#there's only some undercurrents here

[sabraeal]

to all the ghosts, Chapter 4

[Read on AO3]

Written for @kirayaykimura, who gets to receive all of my post-manga chapter soowon/lili ramblings. I am MANY DAYS late on this birthday fic, but thankfully I managed to squeeze it out before the crush of obiyukiweek!

As king, Soowon had been the conqueror. His armies served as Kouka’s sword and shield both, bringing kingdoms and despots to their knees, and yet—

Yet in the end it had been him prostrate on cold stone, his weakened body aching, nauseated from the effort of existing under the oppressive weight of the consort’s killing intent. He had been too proud to tremble, too stubborn to retch, but with every passing second his skin prickled with anticipation, certain that he could feel the sting of the guandao’s keen edge on the bared flesh of his neck. That even as he crouched there, ragged breaths painting the pavilion, the blade slipped between the segments of his spine, severing the tangled thread that kept him tied to this failing body.

It felt like mercy.

There was no room for warmongers in the world Yona meant to build, least of all broken men. Or so it had seemed, until the blade failed to fall. Until Soowon stood, facing the stiflingly silent crowd, and began to understand just what shape his punishment was meant to take.

Still, it comes as cold comfort that this is not the most desperate reunion he has attended on his knees.

Ice snakes down Soowon’s spine; an insidious chill, settling deep in his bones and seeping into every pale corner of his too-human flesh. His breath could mist in the air if enough of it could escape to make a difference.  The queen might stand eye to eye with most men of Kouka, but she falls short of Hak’s looming inches, the strong set of her even armored shoulders lacking the imposing breadth of his. They aren’t armored now— at least, not that Soowon can see, swallowed up beneath the generous swath of her cloak— but she doesn’t need bronze or bone to protect her when her bearing is as implacable as any army he has ever met on the field.

Her reputation may be as bloody as his, her ruthless pragmatism memorialized in just as many poems, but there is no sword in her hand, no arrow’s point grazing the vulnerable column of his throat. The men in her shadow may be considered armed even without steel, but like him, the queen’s hands are harmless bare. Clean.

The same cannot be said for their conscience. He sees it in the tremble at the corner of her mouth, in the way her fingers stiffen instead of clench. She will not kill him, not today, but— only just.

“Your Majesty,” he manages, so even, more stall than statecraft. Manufactured space to think, to decide just how he would navigate this meeting on his knees and still maintain a modicum of Kouka’s authority. “To what do we—?”

“Princess Kouren!” Every trained hand races to touch its blade, but not a one of them manages to lap Lili. “Oh wait, no— Your Majesty! You’re a queen now, aren’t you? Or is that only after all this coronation stuff is over?”

The room is strung tight, blades quivering like struck strings in their sheathes, ready to fly at the barest strum— and all because of a slip of a girl, a mere streak of black and blue painting herself across the three steps it takes to throw her arms around Xing’s queen. It would be amusing, if the situation weren’t so deadly serious.

“Are you all right?” A ridiculous question when she’s the one with a half dozen blades pointed at her back— but Lili’s never once bothered to notice the danger she’s in, and Soowon can hardly expect her to start now. “You’ve been doing well, haven’t you? It’s been forever since we’ve seen you, and you never write…”

Those too-clean hands splay in the air, hovering mere inches from Lili’s shoulders; eyes that had seemed so cool mere breaths ago now sat wide and uncertain. Soowon may have first come to Xing as its conqueror, but still, he has never seen its queen so thoroughly routed. She might have anticipated steel and subtlety or iron and treachery, but Xing’s queen had not accounted for the unerring accuracy of Lili’s regard, as ruinous as any loosed arrow.

Were he a more feeling man, Soowon might pity her. Instead, he is only bemused by the Water Tribe’s wayward daughter and her penchant for taking ruthless royals beneath her wing. How fortunate that the war had not lingered on long enough for her to get it in her head to ride out towards Kai. There were few indignities Soowon had not learned to shoulder since he’d been cast down from this throne, but suffering through a simpering Chagol would have taxed even his tolerance.

“Lady Lili.” Fingers tremble as they press against Lili’s back, cutting perilous crests into the blue wave of her robe. Cautious, at first, then clenched, and with no more than a ragged sigh, Xing’s queen does not so much clasp as collapse around Kouka’s most stymieing noblewoman. “Forgive me. There has been so much to say— too much for mere letters. But I have been remiss in not making the attempt.”

“You have,” Lili agrees with her usual petulance, stepping back with a pout far more playful than any she’s ever swung in his direction. “I’ve had a lot going on too, you know! Yona made me her advisor, for one. And now my father’s talking about me taking over the headship, even though I’m definitely not general material.”

Xing’s queen slants her gaze over the thin slip of Lili’s shoulders, lingering significantly upon every gripped hilt. For a moment, Soowon is nearly certain that her mouth curls, but if it does, it is so subtle as to disappear between one blink and the next, more apparition than amusement. “I do recall a letter in which you imparted a similar sentiment.”

“Because it’s true.” Lili does not quite disentangle herself from the queen’s grip, but she does lean back, fixing the unerring arrow of her attention onto the masked man at the royal heels. “You’ve brought Vold with you? Is Tao here too, or—?”

“Princess Tao is in residence at the palace for Her Majesty’s coronation,” the man— this…Vold explains, cloth tugging across his mouth in a way that nearly implies a smile. “She will be glad to know you are in fine health, Lady Lili.”

“But shouldn’t you be with her?” A single glance at the guard to the queen’s other side is enough to convey she doesn’t recognize— or think much of— him. Just like every other man under thirty. “You’re one of her stars, aren’t you? If anyone’s going to follow Kouren around, I would have thought it’d be Yotaka.”

“I did not intend to make this an official, public visit.” The queen’s hands flutter back beneath the dark swath of her cloak, mouth tilting wryly. “And though there is no question of his loyalty, Yotaka is hardly the most…discreet of all my stars.”

To put it mildly. The war may seem like a lifetime ago, a calamity that happened in a different age, to a different man, but a wild storm of gray slumped between his soldiers stays vivid in his mind, a man wounded enough to still be bleeding through the bandages hidden beneath his robe— but still, his chin never dipped, never even trembled as he raised it to meet the gaze of the man certain to be his death. I always thought the son of a demon would have a more grotesque face.

“I had meant to only take Baram to meet you, but when my sister caught wind of my plans...” Another twitch at the corner of her lips, a ripple in the still lake that is Xing’s queen.

“I’m afraid Princess Tao was quite insistent I come along.” The masked man bows his head, humor hidden in every angle. “Part of her eagerness to renew your acquaintance, Lady Lili.”

“I’m excited to see her too! It’s been forever. But, wait” —Lili whips around with absolutely none of the accusation she would have leveled were he the recipient rather than Xing’s queen— “how did you know we were in Kyuu? We weren’t scheduled to arrive until tomorrow.”

“I received reports about a commotion in the market between a known swindler and some foreign woman.” One royal brow lifts, an invitation to fill in the rest of the details herself. “When I sent my men to investigate the issue, I was told that a young woman matching your description had left in the company a tall, soft-spoken man fair of both face and hair. Though we hadn’t known which of the Empress’s advisors would be sent with Lord Soowon, it seemed likely that you had both come ahead of your procession…”

“I…” Soowon would hesitate to call anything about Xing’s queen warm, but there is something like it in her eyes when Lili gapes, mouth opening and closing like the koi Joon-gi kept in his gardens. “But…”

“It seems, Lady Lili,” he says, deceptively bright. “Your confidence in our disguises was quite unfounded.”

If glares could kill, the one Lili whips at him would render his flesh to little more than a royal pile of ash. However it cannot, and he survives, offering her his most mild smile.

There is little that delights him, but Lili’s huff comes close, arms clamping shut over her chest with all the finality of the gates of paradise. “I wasn’t with him. He just showed up!”

The queen’s eyebrow lifts. “As you say.”

Her stare skips over Lili’s shoulder like a stone over still water, but it’s his stomach that sinks when it settles on him. It’s different than the last time they came face to face—  him the benevolent conqueror and her a supplicant brought to her knees by little more than circumstance. Loathing and contempt had radiated from her as she knelt in her borrowed robe, both bust and bandages exposed as it hung from the bare bones of her shoulders. But now her eyes meet his, and they are not curious or caustic or conspiring but assessing. Less a sovereign surveying a threat, and more a monger at market, weighting the profit of a purchase against its loss.

It’s a relief when she finally turns it on Judoh instead.

“Forgive me my poor manners. I came here as a guest.” Xing’s queen draws to her full height, and even unhorsed, unarmored, she is every inch the fearful form that had cut across the plains of Kai. “Vold.”

The masked man straightens, eyes drawn to his queen like ore to a lodestone. “Your Majesty.”

“Talk to the proprietor. Have him bring a pot of his best blend. And whatever he considers the best of the inn’s offerings.” One large hand unfurls, benevolent smile never quite reaching her eyes. “There is much to discuss.”

*

Lili’s barely got her chopsticks around a slice of pork belly when Soowon just slides right out and asks, “To what do we owe the honor of Your Majesty’s attention?”

If she could have reached— which she can’t, not unless there’s some way to pass right through General Judoh and his impenetrable abs without another lecture— she would have put an elbow right into his side. Let the spur of it sink right into his squishy little tofu belly. Maybe then he’d finally learn a set of manners that didn’t end with him smiling over a steel edge.

Thankfully, Kouren is a reasonable person. Instead of telling him to mind his own business— like Lili would, if he tried to take that arch little tone with her— she simply smiles, folding her hands neatly over her lap. “I’m afraid that after her time in Xing, I found myself quite inspired by Yona’s example. When I heard that Lady Lili— and yourself, of course, Lord Soowon— were in Kyuu, I imagined that I might be able to surprise you in town so long as I could pass myself off as one of the townsfolk.”

“How charming.” Soowon’s eyes do that stupid squinch at the corners, the one meant to make him look harmless when all Lili gets is constipated. “My cousin will be honored to hear that you remember her so fondly.”

Kouren’s not silly enough for all this squinting and posturing— she’s a real queen, the kind that cleaves through injustice, that dons armor and commands the respect of her generals, that speaks and is listened to despite being born a daughter instead of a son. So when she answers Soowon, it’s head-on, straightforward and unerring as a spear. “That is her gift, I think. Being remembered fondly.”

Her father may have wanted her to be a wife rather than a general, but even Lili can’t miss the unspoken, unlike you. And Soowon certainly doesn’t, the silk of his spider’s smile stiffening where it’s spun across his face.

“Congratulations are in order, it seems, even if they are much overdue.” There is no twist when Kouren’s attention turns upon her— not even the slightest hint of torsion— but simply an incline of her chin. A nod almost, eliding into a hint of a smile. “I will have to compliment Her Majesty in the wisdom she has shown in the selection of her advisors the next time we speak.”

Lili squirms on her knees, hoping Kouren can’t make out the pleased flush spreading over her cheeks. “It’s really not that big a deal. I think I’m just the only Water Tribe member she knew besides my father.”

It’s the sort of humility that would get Kouka ladies fanning themselves, long sleeves fluttering as they rushed to titter and fawn. They’d be all-too eager to assure her that the empress would surely need a woman’s voice to keep her council comfortable, that somehow Yona might quail beneath the weight of a man’s opinion without another female to shore her up.

Kouren only frowns. “It is no easy matter to weed out tradition by the root, not even with the love and support of your people. To disband the council of generals and replace every voice on it…Her Majesty would not have chosen any one of them lightly. Least of all yours, Lady Lili.”

“Well sure, right, I know that. I was only…” Her teeth snap tight over, being polite. All those months in the palace might have gotten her brushed up on her bowing and blushing and composing poetry-perfect scraps of practiced humility, but no one in this audience will be impressed by it, least of all the woman who would have bled out to save her kingdom.

But it’s too late to protest now, too late to insist she does know her worth— how can she not when there’s a fool like Kan Tae-Jun seated beside her, barely knowing his left from his right let alone the price of rice? Oh, sure, he might have her beat when it comes to logistics, especially when it comes to supplying the remote villages in their most far-flung territories, but common sense—

“It was a necessary change,” Soowon says smoothly, that stupid squint still looming over his smile. “Keeping a council of generals would hardly lend much credence to my cousin’s new era of peace, after all.”

Kouren’s expression shutters with a speed meant to catch fingers on the sill. “You hardly need to tell me. For too long Kouka’s kings have allowed their warhawks to pick the carcass of this peninsula, playing at conquest when all they care for is plunder. Yona has done well to rid her ears of their whispering. If only the rulers before her had been as wise, they would have done it long ago.”

The barb’s so pointed Lili’s surprised it doesn’t actually draw blood. And yet Soowon doesn’t even flinch; no, he just sits there, that too-wide smile of his softening until his eyes lose their squint. Something real haunts the corners of it when he says, “I couldn’t agree more.”

Lili’s never been much for spirits— oh, she might let herself get a chill from a good story, or have her own imagination run wild when she’s strode halfway down a too-dark hall, but that’s for fun, not because she actually believes in that sort of stuff. But as Soowon settles back on his heels, less diplomat and more decoration, she could swear she sees through the edges of him, like a spirit caught in sunlight. That she’s watching him fade the longer she sits here, keeping her mouth shut.

He’d been Yona’s enemy once— and Kouren’s and Tao’s and maybe hers too, if she sat down and thought about it real hard, like she tries not to— but he’s also never expected her to perform for him, to play sweet Lady Lili and pour out tea and flattery while he does her the honor of tolerating her attention. And, well, that might be a weird way to make a friend, but that’s what he is whether she likes it or not, and a friend wouldn’t just let him shit all over himself without saying something.

She just wishes she could come up with something better than, “Ayura will be sad she missed you.”

Both queen and conqueror look up as one, blinking in tandem. It would be eerie, if she wasn’t so busy trying to sound normal, to notice. “I left her back at the castle with Yona. I mean, since we were already taking Judoh, it seemed a little...”

Redundant, that’s what Judoh called it, while Yona’s mouth pursed tight. But Hak had nodded, agreeing with whatever math generals did to decide these sorts of things, and she’d done the same. But it felt strange to say it now, like maybe she thought of her guards as completely interchangeable, not people but pawns she could swap out when it pleased her, no emotion whatsoever.

“Much,” she settles on, lamely.

“A pity,” Kouren says, and to Lili’s surprise, she’s sincere. “I had hoped to give my gratitude to all of you, when we next met. But I promise you, you will be safe here, even without both your retainers.”

Lili blinks. “O-oh, I didn’t mean to say that I…I mean, that you…” Ugh, Yona picked her to come here because she was supposed to be able to word better than her limp sheet of a cousin, and here she is, unable to string a sentence together that won’t cause a diplomatic incident. “Thank you, Your Majesty. It’s an honor for you to take such interest in us.”

She can’t bow over her hands like she should— at least, not without an awkward shimmy or knocking over her whole dinner— so she settles for a sedate bend at her shoulders, palms pressed tight to her thighs. It’s a pretty good compromise, in her opinion, but when she looks back up Soowon’s got his eyebrows all lifted— practically a guffaw when it comes to him— and Kouren’s got one corner of her mouth hitched up, like she’s considering a smile.

“It is the least I can do.” Kouren glances toward where Soowon sits pushing rice around in his bowl, trying to make it look touched, if not eaten. “Xing must have left you with a sour impression during your last visit. I do hope that you will for once get to see it as it is meant to be seen.”

Soowon shakes his head. “I could say the same for Kouka. If Xing had not helped with our efforts to rebuild, my cousin’s reign would not have started with such a stable foundation.”

Kouren waves a hand. “Think nothing of it. It was Xing’s great honor to help Her Majesty in her time of need. I would not have a country if Yona had not reached out her hand to me during mine.”

“You are too kind.” Lili nearly rolls her eyes at how practiced the words are, a reflex rather than any actual feeling on Soowon’s part. “Though I am sure that my cousin and her consort would be happy to receive you again, so you may see Kouka at its best.”

“I would like that. Very much.” Her mouth tilts, wry. “Perhaps we shall see after this coronation.”

“Yes.” Soowon’s fingers tighten on his chopsticks, smile stretched up to a squint. “I suppose we shall.”

[featureenvyproductions]

"Why does everything need to be Gay now it's so shallow to make men attracted to each other when they could be Pure Platonic Friends -"

oops sorry I can't hear you over the sound of me Doing What I Want Forever because I have been watching movies, TV, and animation since the 80s and have watched enough shallow heterosexual romances that would have been stronger as mlm-wlw solidarity friendships to fill the space between stars in a galaxy

[comicaurora]

I've been reading some stuff on punitive justice, and it made something click for me that I've observed a lot online but haven't been able to put into words before.

When someone does something wrong, that's bad, and the damage it does needs to be repaired while the person needs to try to do better in future to minimize repeating harm. We learn it in preschool - say sorry, don't do it again. If they keep at it, remove them from the situation where they can do the harm until they prove they're responsible enough to go back in.

So if it turns out someone DIDN'T do anything wrong, that should be a relief! There's no damage to fix, no internal errors to correct. Less work for everybody, literally no harm done. False alarm, all good.

The thing I've observed is, lots of people want them to have done something wrong. There's almost disappointment when it turns out there's no harm done. And I think that's because of this general undercurrent of punitive justice as morally righteous and desirable: someone does something wrong, you get to punish them. Turns out they're innocent? That's disappointing. Find another reason you get to punish them, or find another bad person you get to punish. But at the core of it is that desire to punish someone. Someone you can hurt in a way that makes you a better person for hurting them.

This particular brand of almost cannibalistic pseudo-justice is super common in tumblr, one of the most ostensibly liberal spaces on the internet; I see more borderline savagery in online discourse here than in the actually toxic parts of the internet that are just openly cruel for cruelty's sake. It's always thrown me for a loop, and has frankly also hurt me, because on the rare occasions I get personally dogpiled, it only actually stings when it makes me worry that I've legitimately hurt someone. If I did something wrong, or more realistically when I inevitably do something wrong, that would make it good and right for people to give me shit about it every day until I'm dead.

The thing that clicked for me most recently was this bit in Ijeoma Oluo's Be A Revolution:

Punitive justice is specifically, uniquely appealing to people who have suffered injustices. Of course it's the Tumblr zeitgeist. Everyone here is a marginalized person failed by at least one system. Punishing someone for perceived injustice is how someone the system has deemed worthless proves their value in blood, even if the person being punished hasn't harmed you directly - even if they haven't harmed anyone. "Righteous" anger isn't about the target in these cases, it's about the inflicter. This is how much my pain is worth.

And that kind of violent validation is so alluring and so very dangerous. It seeks an outlet, wearing the justification of justice. Who's in reach? Who's an acceptable target this week? What's a good reason to use?

Is there anything they could do that would make me stop?

[exopelagic]

fun new cold symptom: hallucinating a plant breeding experiment in bed while trying to sleep

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — sometimes your boyfriend’s want for you just seems to be insatiable.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, mating press, breeding, biting, he loses control of his technique a teeny tiny bit at the end, im going absolutely insane. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! hiii this is a lil mix of my gojo thoughts over the past few months, my sanity is slipping as u can tell <3

the way gojo satoru was in bed was exactly how he was in real life, absolutely merciless when he wanted to be, you realise with the dizzy haze in your mind and the pillow he’s shoved under your hips. there’s a pleasurable burn in your thighs where he’s got them folded into you, your ankles dangling by his ears as his hips press into your ass and the way he looks over you is needy, and a little wild.

but he only really got like this on on a few occasions, like after a gruelling mission, a boring mountain of paperwork or maybe you’d been teasing him. sometimes he’s just consumed by the idea of you carrying his kids— he’s so incredibly insatiable.

“you feel me right here, sweet thing, hm?” the snowy haired man above you hisses with a languid roll of his hips, deliberately pressing into the sweet spots inside of you that he always seems to be able to find so easily. but you can barely breathe, nevermind answer with how full you feel — your warm walls twitching around his heavy shaft before he’s giving you a few more thrusts.

“don’t hold out on me, it feels good, right?” gojo goads, chuckles when the next particularly deep kiss of his cock along your insides has your lips parting to moan, eyes squeezing shut as you wriggle underneath him.

“‘ts too deep, satoru! fuck—“ you manage, voice breaking under the weight of your own arousal but shit— he loves you like this. pliant and pretty and all his. you’re basically begging for him to give you his soul, to pour it into your body and your bones until you’re twitching— his stamina was limitless after all, an endless pool of energy.

“oh? but i’m sure you can take more..” gojo’s words are a low drawl as he curls over your folded figure, making your muscles scream for some sort of relief but he still manages to give you more. he begins a pace that’s so deep, so animalistic that you feel like you could black out with the way the pleasure rips through you, making your body clap against his as his balls smack loudly against your ass and suddenly he’s even deeper.

“see, i knew it.” it’s smug despite the the trembling undercurrent to his tone, breaking under the weight of his own arousal as his voice takes an octave higher. but you’re doing so well for him, your eyes are rolled back— lips parted and you’re basically begging for him to go harder when he leans into press his lips against yours, pushing his name between your lips as your hands grab at him for any sort of relief.

“almost there, right?” gojo groans against you with the next quiver of your walls; the next particularly heavy thrust makes your thighs tremble and he’s so deep it almost hurts, making something spark and burn along your inside as he fucks you into the mattress like a wild animal.

you whimper, barely— it’s a desperately pathetic little sound, wound up tight and it makes him pull away to look at you, crystalline eyes cloudy with lust before his lips are stretching into a smirk.

“oh, more?” gojo’s head cocks to the side and you know you’re done for when his pace picks up, every heavy thrust is driven by the muscles in his body and your pussy squelches loudly with every wet connection of his hips.

“oh, i’ll give you more, baby. so greedy f’ me, hm?” despite his teasing, he’s babbling— sweat beading along his skin as the snowy peaks of his hair frame his flushed features and fuck, the pretty sight above you only makes you feel even better. you’re so high off his desperation, every muscle in your body screams under his but the nerves in your body cry even louder with how good you feel— with how much your body craves him.

“‘ts so tight, you milkin’ me, sweet girl? how many you want, huh? give you as many as you need. wanna see you swollen f’ me, you want that, mhm?” gojo’s barely coherent but his words only make you squeeze around him tighter— a silent little invitation as every thrust has you crying more, more, more! satoru, want your cum—please! punched out little gasps and cries as he digs the orgasm out of you.

“oh, you’ll look so pretty f’ me—f-fuck!” his huge body is looming over yours, pressing you into the mattress and the pillows beneath you. your thighs are flush against his abdomen and chest, and your lungs feel like they quake on every exhale as your lips part to moan. he presses himself into you��� face nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he grazes his teeth along the skin there, headboard screeching loudly in time with every smack of his hips.

“‘toru, please please please—‘m g’nna,” you tremble as you shake beneath gojo, thighs tensing tight against his body and he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you as he smirks against your skin. your orgasm hits you so suddenly, so hard and good that your toes curl where they hang over his shoulders, your body stiffening beneath him and the first milking compression of your pussy makes his pace stutter, hugs him so tight he can’t help but bite so hard into the sensitive skin of your neck he draws blood.

“should see h-how pretty you look like this. tell me ‘ts all mine, y’ gonna make me a daddy, yeah? g’nna fill you up so good. oh, this pussy’s made f’ me, ain’t it?”

his body trembles as he pulls back slightly to watch your cream pool around the base of his cock, your slick smeared along his skin and your walls still throb with every unforgiving push of his hips. your orgasm feels like it stretches on forever as you gasp out broken yeah, yours, love you so much ‘toru, waves rolling through your body with the heat you feel pour and sting along your nerves. it only takes a few more clapping thrusts and your choked confessions before hes kissing you, just as he likes as his lips curl into you.

gojo cums hard, thick and heavy inside of you when he feels your tongue push against his, swallowing both of your groans into the kiss as he pushes his load into your puffy cunt. you’re both so lost in bliss, so unaware of the electricity across your boyfriends skin and the uncomfortable pressure that seems to suddenly weigh down on your intertwined bodies.

the bedroom light flickers but you don’t notice, he’s slurring curses against your lips as he almost pins your thighs to your chest completely, the air between you seems tighter— atoms trembling in the finate space. but he’s continuing to fuck into your sensitive pussy with tiny little thrusts you don’t notice the creek of your furniture as it twitches out of place— like it’s being pulled towards you both. the small flickers of purple fizzle out when you’re both spent and he’s collapsing on top of you with a low, breathy chuckle, making you whine with the cramp you feel in your body.

“‘toru! you’re heavy.” you grumble, voice worn and scratchy but it doesn’t move gojo as he cuddles deeper into you, leaving sweet little kisses along your skin with obnoxious kissy noises— a stark contrast to how filthy he was being a second ago.

you’re both breathing deep as you give up trying to escape from underneath him, opting to press your fingers through his damp hair instead before he finally moves. he pulls back, enough for his cock to push his cum out of your pussy as he does, squelching and dripping into the mattress beneath you both as you jolt slightly. “careful, ‘ts messy, ‘toru.”

gojo whistles lowly before he looks at you again, one of your legs still haphazardly thrown over his shoulder before he’s placing a sweet kiss to your ankle, then following it up with a painfully languid, experimental thrust as his crystalline eyes focus on the mess he’s made of you.

“come on, sweet girl. you’re not nearly full enough f’ me yet.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[clockwayswrites]

So far this file is called 'birdritch'. Those of you who follow my art tumblr might know where this is going. I needed something light to write, been a low day. There has been zero editing or reading through and it is past 2am, sorry and enjoy! (Don't need any typos pointed out, ty.)

---

“You are supposed to be home.”

Danny blinked up from his work to find Lucius Fox standing in the doorway of the lab. The man had the sport of expression one wore around a child who had just done something disappointing.

(Danny was used to the look, even if it had been a long time since he'd been a kid. Or seen his parents, for that mater.)

“Okay, but,” Danny started, “we agreed that I could start at ten and take my eight hours and one for lunch—”

“A mandatory one hour for lunch away from your desk,” Lucius interrupted.

“Yes, yes, I’ve been doing that! I’ve been eating out on the rooftop garden or even leaving the building and eating out or taking lunch to the park. I’ve been behaving, Lucius, I promise.”

Lucius raised a judgmental brow. “It’s after eight, Danny.”

“What? No. I have an alarm on my phone and everything… okay, well, that only works if my phone is charged.” Danny jabbed uselessly at his phone screen. He followed the charger, which was plugged in, all the way to the wall. He resisted the urge to let his head fall against the wall. “I guess Leslie fried the outlet again or something. I’m sorry, Lucius.”

“It’s fine, Danny,” Lucius said, “but only because, one, I know you have been trying, and two, I am going to buy you the most embarrassing alarm clock I can find and mount it to something in this lab. Now it is late and I am going home and so are you, Mr. Fenton.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Fox,” Danny said and made an exaggerate show of packing up his backpack, dead phone and all.

Lucius gave a little snort at the antics, but left with a ‘get home safe, Danny’. After his boss was gone, Danny took the time to actually make sure everything was in his bag and secure. He still didn’t get why he couldn’t just work late, but apparently WE had something of an insistence of work life balance. According to Lucius, Danny crossed the line too often and so was being kept in line. (Danny didn’t think mention he didn’t have much of a life, literally and otherwise, would help his case.)

Still, Danny mused as he stepped inside the empty elevator, the rules did keep him from becoming his parents. And that was a very, very good thing! Being a mad scientist in Gotham usually ended up landing someone in Arkham. It was just that after the chaos that Danny grew up with, going back to his empty apartment was depressing. It wasn’t as if Danny never got out and did things, it was just that all those things were mostly on the weekend. Most days he just didn’t have a reason to go back to his place.

There was no getting out of it tonight, the great and powerful Fox had spoken and Danny knew better than to try and sneak back up. He lifted his hands over his head, stretching as the elevator descended the last few floors. Oh well, at least it was before ten. He could still grab something on the way home and have a full, warm meal to take his pain meds on. By the pull along his forearm he would need them.

“Night, Bill,” Danny said as he passed the security guard who was on the evening shift. He got another ‘get home safe’ in response and gave a little wave in reply over his shoulder.

Even after the few years in Gotham, it still amused Danny how much everyone wished everyone else some sort of safe travels here. As much as Gotham was a city of hardened realists, there still was so much hope about it. Hope people got home safely, that the Bats would get where they were need in time, that the city would rebuild again and again and again. The undercurrent of hope was so strong that Danny could practically feel it moving through the city like a river.

It had been one of the reasons Danny had taken the job.

He could use hope.

He also had been very careful not to look too closely into it all. While Danny’s early life may have been dominated by the occult, he tried to stay away from it these days outside of the necessary visits to the Realm for his health. As much as the Far Frozen was full of ghost yetis, Frostbite was still a being of science and being there felt more like a cold vacation to his weird relatives than anything else those days.

Danny was actually worried that he was getting close to needing another visit. He shouldn’t, not yet. He wasn’t actually due back for another three months, but the thought of visiting Frostbite had been pulling at the back of Danny’s mind. The most annoying part of it all, is that there wasn’t any concrete reason that Danny felt he needed to go, just a lot of little things: the ache was deeper in his bones, he’d been missing noticing little things, his near constant vertigo was worse, and, oddest of all, he had been feeling chilled.

Maybe he should just take a long weekend and go for a quick visit.

Lucius would undoubtedly approve of the break.

Tomorrow, Danny would ask tomorrow.

(As long as he remembered.)

[charlotteking23]

Bouquet Toss - MV1/33

Max Verstappen x reader

summary: You and Max attend a wedding, sharing moments of laughter and love, even some mischief with the bouquet toss.

Max's eyes darted across the bustling ballroom, taking in the sea of well-wishers and flashing cameras.

The wedding reception of his best friend, Charles Leclerc, was in full swing, and the atmosphere was electric with laughter and music.

He tugged at the collar of his tuxedo, feeling the heat of the room and the pressure of his role as best man.

In the corner, a waiter carefully balanced a tray of champagne flutes, weaving through the dance floor where couples twirled in a blur of color and light.

The scent of fresh flowers mingled with the warm aroma of a five-tiered wedding cake, drawing Max's gaze to the beautifully decorated table that dominated the space.

He spotted his girlfriend, you were chatting with Kika, your eyes sparkling with joy as you listened to your best friend talk.

You had a vision in your elegant gown, the fabric whispering softly against your skin as you moved.

your laughter was infectious, drawing smiles from everyone nearby. Max felt a swell of pride in his chest; you looked absolutely stunning.

Two years into their relationship, he knew he had found something special.

They had navigated the ups and downs of life in the fast lane, and here they were, sharing in the happiness of their friends' union.

As the band switched to a slower tune, Max took a deep breath and approached you, extending his hand.

"Care to dance?" he asked, a hint of mischief in his voice. You looked up at him, a playful smile playing on your lips, and placed your hand in his.

The music wrapped around them as they moved together, their bodies fitting like perfectly interlocking gears.

It was a moment of pure, unfiltered bliss in the midst of the chaos.

Max leaned closer, whispering, "Are you nervous about the bouquet toss?" You giggled, feeling his hand tightening around your waist.

"Should I be?" The playful banter was their usual dance, a dance that had grown familiar and comforting over the past two years.

The anticipation grew as the bride got ready for the bouquet toss, your cheeks flushed with happiness as you took your place in the center of the room.

As the music swelled, the crowd of single women around them grew denser, their excitement palpable.

You leaned into Max's embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

His arms tightened around you protectively, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to forget about the tradition unfolding before you.

The bouquet, a cascade of white roses, was tossed into the air with a flourish.

A cacophony of squeals filled the room as the flowers arced gracefully through the space.

With surprising agility, Max stepped back, allowing you to position yourself in the fray. You watched the bouquet's trajectory, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves.

The bouquet descended, and as if in slow motion, you reached up, your hand outstretched. Time seemed to freeze as your fingertips brushed against the soft petals. Then, with a sudden jolt, the bouquet was in your grasp.

The room erupted in applause and cheers, the noise washing over you like a tidal wave. Max's eyes met yours, a look of pure shock and delight etched on his handsome face.

He stepped closer, taking the bouquet from your hands and holding it above your head like a prize.

"Looks like you've won the competition," he teased, his voice warm with affection. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "You're the only prize I need."

The tension between you grew, a thrilling undercurrent of possibility. The crowd parted, and Max took your hand again, leading you back to the dance floor.

As the music picked up, he twirled you around, the fabric of your gown billowing like a cloud around your legs.

The bouquet remained in your grasp, a symbol of the love and commitment that swirled around the room.

Throughout the rest of the evening, you both danced, mingled, and laughed with friends, the bouquet serving as a silent reminder of the future that might await you.

Max's hand never left yours, a constant reassurance that no matter what the next chapter held, you would face it together.

As the final song played, you looked into his eyes, the question unspoken but lingering in the air.

In that moment, as the lights dimmed and the music faded, Max pulled you in closer, the bouquet forgotten in the background.

He whispered, "I love you," the words resonated through your entire being.

The crowd melted away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the rhythm of the night and the promise of a life intertwined, as you leaned into him, feeling his heartbeat in sync with yours.

As the final notes of the song drifted away, Max leaned down and brushed a soft kiss against your cheek.

"Thank you for being here with me," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. You felt a warmth spread through you, a warmth that had nothing to do with the room's temperature.

You knew he wasn't just talking about the wedding. He was talking about the race, about every moment that had brought them here, to this dance floor, together.

The rest of the night was a whirlwind of congratulations for the happy couple, shared stories with friends, and lingering glances that held secrets only the two of you knew.

You and Max stole moments together when you could, his hand resting on the small of your back, the heat of his touch searing through the fabric of your dress.

With every laugh, every shared glance, you felt the bond between you grow stronger, more tangible.

As the party wound down and the last guests began to trickle out, Max took you aside, his eyes holding a question.

"Ready to go?" he asked, his voice low and intimate.

You nodded, feeling the weight of the bouquet in your hand, the petals soft against your skin.

It was time to leave the fairy tale wedding and return to the real world, but somehow, with Max by your side, it didn't seem so daunting anymore.

Together, you made your way to the hotel suite that had been reserved for the night. The door clicked shut behind you, and the outside world was left behind.

Max took the bouquet from your hands, placing it gently on the side table before turning to face you.

The air was thick with unspoken words, the promise of the future hanging between you like a shimmering veil.

He reached out, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw, his eyes searching yours.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice a gentle caress.

You took a deep breath, feeling the anticipation coil tightly in your stomach.

"I'm thinking…" you began, your voice a whisper, "I'm thinking that maybe it's our turn to write the next chapter."

Max's smile grew, a warm, genuine smile that lit up the room.

"Is that so?" He stepped closer, his body heat wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

"What does that chapter look like?" His eyes searched yours, hungry for every detail, every hope and dream.

You leaned into him, your heart racing. "It looks like us," you murmured, "You're racing in the future, and me cheering you on through every step".

Max's gaze softened, and he leaned in to kiss you, the tender touch of his lips sending sparks through your body.

The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as if he was trying to convey every feeling, every hope and fear, through the press of his lips against yours.

His hands found the zipper of your gown, easing it down, revealing the soft, bare skin beneath.

You gasped against his mouth as he kissed down your neck, his touch setting your body alight.

The bouquet on the side table was a silent witness to the passion that ignited between you.

Max's strong hands gently guided you to the bed, the softness of the mattress enveloping you as he laid you down.

The night was far from over, and the promise of forever was just beginning to unfold.

Masterlist

Btw: Requests are open for ideas so please write some. LOVE YOU!

[novaursa]

Web of Gold (Aegon is jealous)

- Summary: Alicent could only watch as you handle her son like a lioness who plays with her food.

- Paring: lannister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Note: This part has an extra reader/Aemond interaction. Time is skipping from present to past.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: aegon has a cold

- Next part: royal wedding

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @purple-1995

The Red Keep is unusually quiet this afternoon as you’re making your way through the castle, intending to visit the gardens where you can enjoy the warm air and perhaps indulge in some idle gossip with your ladies. It’s a perfect day for it, or at least, it was until Aemond Targaryen unexpectedly appears in your path.

He stands in the hallway, arms crossed and expression as stern as ever, as if he’s waiting for some important meeting. When his single, icy violet eye fixes on you, it’s clear he has no such plans. You have the distinct feeling that this encounter is as unwelcome for him as it is for you.

“Aemond,” you greet with your best attempt at politeness, offering a sweet smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “What a surprise to see you here.”

Aemond doesn’t bother with a smile. Instead, he inclines his head slightly, regarding you with that same, unblinking stare that could make a lesser woman wilt. But you’re no lesser woman. “Y/N,” he replies, his voice cool and precise. “I’m surprised to see you without my brother clinging to your skirts. Or did you manage to give him the slip for once?”

You chuckle, deciding to meet his coolness with warmth. It’s what you do best, after all. “Oh, Aegon can’t always keep up with me,” you say with a wink, gliding closer. “He’s busy with kingly duties, you know. Someone has to manage the realm.”

Aemond’s lips twitch, though whether it’s the beginning of a smirk or a grimace, you can’t quite tell. “Yes, I’m sure he’s terribly preoccupied. I imagine it’s quite exhausting, all that lounging about with a goblet in hand.”

You ignore the jab at Aegon’s expense, well aware that this is Aemond’s typical mood—bitter, acerbic, with an ever-present undercurrent of disdain. “Well, he does deserve some rest, don’t you think? After all, he’s got me to keep him on his toes.” You give him a bright smile, the kind that you know Aegon would melt for, but Aemond merely stares at you, as though you’ve sprouted a second head.

“And how fortunate for him,” Aemond mutters, rolling his eye. “I can only imagine what you keep him busy with, though I suspect it involves more idle flattery than sound advice.”

You laugh at that, a light, melodic sound that echoes off the stone walls, but the humor doesn’t reach your eyes. “Oh, Aemond, I didn’t realize you were so interested in my life with Aegon. I thought you preferred to keep to yourself, all stern and serious like some sort of dark knight.”

Aemond’s eye narrows at your teasing, his mouth flattening into a line. “You presume too much,” he says coolly, though he can’t quite disguise the irritation that seeps into his voice. “I have little interest in your affairs, but unfortunately, it seems I am forced to endure them regardless.”

You bat your lashes at him, taking great amusement in needling the typically unflappable Aemond. “Endure? My, my, Aemond, you make it sound as though I’m a burden. Surely you can find some enjoyment in my company.” You place a hand over your heart, feigning a dramatic sigh. “After all, not many get the pleasure of my presence without having to fight Aegon for it.”

Aemond’s expression remains stony, but you catch a flicker of something behind his gaze—annoyance, perhaps, or maybe resignation. “I would hardly call it a pleasure,” he replies dryly, crossing his arms tighter over his chest. “More like an exercise in patience.”

You smirk, unperturbed. “Oh, patience is a virtue, they say. And I’ve been told I can be… a bit trying at times.” You lean closer, dropping your voice to a mock whisper. “But I’m sure a serious, level-headed man like you can manage it.”

Aemond’s jaw tightens as he regards you with barely concealed frustration, and for a moment, you think you might have finally struck a nerve. But then he huffs softly, a sound that might have been a laugh if it weren’t so begrudging. “You are nothing if not persistent,” he concedes, though his tone remains clipped. “I suppose that’s why Aegon finds you so endearing.”

You tilt your head, studying him with a curious smile. “Is that jealousy I hear, Aemond? Surely you don’t wish you had more of my attention?”

Aemond’s eye sharpens, and he steps closer, looming over you with his taller frame. “Hardly,” he retorts, his voice as cold as the North wind. “I prefer company that doesn’t talk my ears off with false pleasantries.”

You pretend to consider his words, then shrug with a grin. “Well, not everyone can appreciate my charms. But I can assure you, Aegon seems to have no complaints.”

Aemond rolls his eye, clearly done with your banter, but before he can walk away, you step into his path, forcing him to pause. “Come now, Aemond, it wouldn’t hurt you to smile every once in a while. It might even soften that terrifying expression of yours.”

He arches a brow, unimpressed. “Why would I need to soften my expression?”

You give a playful shrug, glancing up at him from under your lashes. “Well, it might make you seem less like you’re plotting everyone’s demise at any given moment.”

Aemond actually snorts, though it’s a dry, humorless sound. “You misunderstand me, Y/N. I’m not plotting everyone’s demise.” He leans in slightly, his voice lowering, as if confiding a great secret. “Only a select few.”

You let out another laugh, genuine this time, and Aemond’s lips twitch slightly, as if even he can’t help but find some amusement in your audacity. It’s brief, but you catch the ghost of a smile before his usual stoicism takes over again.

“Well, as long as I’m not on that list,” you reply cheerfully, stepping back and giving him a mock curtsy. “I suppose I shall leave you to your brooding, then.”

Aemond watches you for a moment longer, as though considering whether to respond, but then he simply inclines his head, his expression settling back into cool indifference. “Good day, Y/N,” he says curtly before striding past you, his coat swirling behind him as he disappears down the corridor.

You watch him go, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. Aemond Targaryen might be as rigid as the Iron Throne itself, but it’s almost fun to poke and prod at that iron shell of his. He may endure your company with all the grace of a man suffering a long sermon, but you know he’ll remember every word.

And that, you think with a smirk, is victory enough.

The Red Keep’s dining hall is bathed in the warm glow of candlelight as the royal family gathers for a dinner. The long table is laden with platters of roast meats, steaming vegetables, and freshly baked bread. It’s meant to be a family meal, a time for unity and bonding, but the atmosphere is already taut with the undercurrents of various rivalries and tensions. At one end of the table, King Viserys looks weary, doing his best to keep up with the conversation between coughs, while Queen Alicent hovers nearby, ever the dutiful wife.

You sit comfortably beside Aegon, who is only halfheartedly stabbing at his food with a fork, glancing up every few moments to check on you. But tonight, for once, your attention isn’t entirely on him. Across the table, Aemond sits with his usual upright posture, speaking to you with a surprising degree of politeness, even if his compliments have that sharp edge he never quite seems able to dull. It’s enough to draw your interest, and Aegon can see it.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Aemond says, his tone smooth, “have you ever read the histories of Old Valyria? I find them quite fascinating—the rise and fall of empires, the shaping the bloodlines. Few truly understand the weight of it.”

You smile at him, leaning in slightly, clearly interested in the conversation. “I have, actually. The legends and lore are beautiful, if not tragic. It’s incredible how much history shapes our present.”

Aegon’s grip on his fork tightens, his knuckles turning pale. He glances between the two of you, his mouth curving into a frown that deepens with each word exchanged. You’re supposed to be looking at him, not his self-important little brother. He coughs loudly, just shy of a theatrical gag, as he leans closer to you. “Y/N,” he says in a voice that’s far too loud for the setting, “you remember that story I told you about that time I fought that wild boar on Dragonstone, don’t you?”

You blink, turning your attention to Aegon, who is now staring at you with an intense, almost desperate expression. “Yes, Aegon,” you reply, though your voice carries a hint of amusement, “you’ve told me that story a few times.”

Aemond’s lips twitch, just the slightest bit, but he says nothing, instead taking a slow sip of his wine. You get the sense he’s enjoying watching Aegon squirm, though he hides it well. Aegon catches the subtle smirk, and his frown deepens. He isn’t about to let Aemond outshine him tonight.

“But did I ever tell you about the time I caught two wild boars, at once?” Aegon blurts, leaning in closer as if the detail will turn the tide of the conversation. “It was quite the ordeal, really. Very dangerous. Everyone said it couldn’t be done, but I proved them wrong.”

Alicent shoots Aegon a withering look from her end of the table, clearly exasperated with his antics, but Aegon doesn’t seem to notice or care. He’s too busy trying to win back your attention.

You give Aegon an indulgent smile, though it’s clear you haven’t entirely forgotten your conversation with Aemond. “That does sound… impressive, Aegon,” you say diplomatically, though you can’t resist glancing back at Aemond, who raises an eyebrow ever so slightly.

Aegon’s eye twitches at your distraction. He reaches for the jug of wine and refills your cup to the brim, his movements overly eager, as if hoping the gesture might sway you. “You know, Y/N, Aemond may know his dusty old books, but I—” He thumps a hand against his chest, nearly knocking over a plate. “—I know how to live. And isn’t that what truly matters?”

Aemond’s expression barely changes, but his single eye gleams with amusement. “Is that so, brother?” he drawls, setting his cup down with a soft clink. “I suppose it takes a certain… perspective to see chasing boars as living.”

Aegon bristles at the veiled insult, his face turning a shade redder than the wine in his cup. He reaches out, draping an arm over your shoulders in an overly possessive manner. “Y/N knows what I mean, don’t you, darling?” He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “You prefer my company, don’t you?”

You manage to suppress a laugh at the sudden shift in his demeanor. It’s like watching a puppy bark at a much larger dog, trying to prove it’s just as fearsome. “Oh, Aegon, you know I appreciate you,” you say, patting his hand in a way that’s meant to soothe, but your amusement is barely hidden.

Helaena, who has been sitting quietly beside Aemond, looks up from her plate of roasted duck and glances between her brothers with mild curiosity, though she seems more fascinated by the way the candlelight reflects off her goblet than the tension in the room. “Boars can be very tricky,” she muses dreamily, as though it’s a perfectly normal contribution to the conversation.

Viserys, who has been struggling to follow along with the rapid exchange, chuckles weakly, though it’s clear he’s not entirely sure what’s happening. “Yes, yes, tricky creatures,” he mumbles, before lapsing back into silence, his weariness overtaking him again.

Aegon takes the opportunity to press closer to you, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper meant to sound sweet, but it comes out more desperate. “You see, Y/N? Even the king agrees with me. I know how to keep life exciting.”

Aemond snorts softly into his wine cup, just loud enough for Aegon to hear. “Yes, brother, you’re certainly a master of excitement. Like that time you… fell off your horse at the tourney? Or was it when you set fire to your own cloak trying to light a candle?”

Aegon’s face flushes with annoyance, his grip on your shoulder tightening. “That was an accident, and everyone knows it!” He turns to you again, trying to recapture your attention with an exaggerated pout. “But you don’t think I’m clumsy, do you, Y/N?”

You look between the two brothers, thoroughly entertained by their bickering, and finally take pity on Aegon, though not without letting a hint of mischief creep into your voice. “Of course not, Aegon. I think you’re… very capable. In your own way.”

Aemond raises his goblet in a mock toast. “Yes, to Aegon’s… unique talents.”

Aegon glares at him, and then, as if he can’t think of a better response, leans closer to you, pressing a noisy, dramatic kiss to your cheek. “You see, Y/N, some people might call my talents unconventional, but I think that just makes me more… interesting.”

You try not to laugh, but the sound escapes despite your best efforts. Aemond rolls his eye again, a faint smirk playing on his lips, but he remains otherwise silent, clearly enjoying Aegon’s discomfort too much to intervene further.

Alicent clears her throat, her patience wearing thin as she glares between her sons. “Enough,” she snaps, her voice low but cutting. “This is a family dinner, not a competition.”

Aegon, undeterred, clinks his goblet against yours with a grin that’s more petulant than charming. “To family, then. And to those who know how to enjoy life to the fullest.”

Aemond merely raises an eyebrow, taking another sip of wine, but you can see the faint amusement lingering in his gaze. He seems content to let Aegon claim his small victory, knowing that the real prize is seeing his older brother squirm with jealousy.

You lean back, enjoying the view of the two brothers’ very different styles of vying for your attention, thinking that this family dinner has turned out to be far more entertaining than you’d expected.

[autolenaphilia]

The anti-kink moral crusade rests on a lot of transmisogynistic assumptions.

Of course it’s no surprise, since it rests on ideas from the moralizing arguments about bdsm made by radfems in the 70s. The only change is that they are being massively hypocritical and inconsistent about which kinks are bad now, as I pointed out before. Now it’s only certain kinks, like consensual non-consent and fauxcest, that are bad because they “fetishize abuse”, and not bdsm as whole, despite that being inarguably true about bdsm.

And that’s purely to broaden the appeal of such arguments, so that even self-described “leatherfags” can moralize about fauxcest. The morals and principles are frankly just “It’s okay if gay men call their boyfriends “daddy”, because I find that hot, but if a trans lesbian couples pretend to be sisters it’s evil.”

And you can’t really appropriate the radfem arguments about kink without taking their transmisogyny onboard, since they stem from the same transmisogynist bio-determinist root ideology. Janice Raymond in The Transsexual Empire explained trans women through a lens of pathological sadomasochism. Years before Blanchard’s autogynephilia concept, radfems have seen transfemininity and kink as the same thing.

The image of the trans woman painted by radfems then and now, is of privileged males appropriating the pain and suffering of real wombyn, and playacting this suffering for their own perverted sexual amusement. And that is the same image painted of trans women with incest and cnc kinks in modern callout posts. They just remove the explicitly terfy language to make it less obvious. Instead of making a mockery of misogyny in general, we are instead accused of mocking the experiences of the survivors of sexual abuse.

And that boils down to the same thing. Survivors of sexual assault are often as a group assumed to be afab. This ties into a specific transmisogynist discourse. It’s one that argues that afab children are more often sexually assaulted, and that trans women are not targeted by sexual violence pre-transition, and comes to the conclusion that this proves that trans women are male socialized and privileged. This is the fairly nasty transmisogynist undercurrent here.

And it’s proven when in discussions about the transmisogyny of callout culture, a common cliché line in response is that “clearly some people’s worst oppression is being told they are freaks for shipping incest.” This treats transfems as ultra-privileged and transmisogyny as not real at all.

Of course in reality, transfems are disproportionate targets of sexual violence even in childhood and pre-transition. And many survivors of childhood abuse have these problematic abuse-fetishizing kinks, and use it to deal with their trauma, including many of the kinky transfems being called out.

And even if no one involved in the sexual roleplay and fiction being criticized have trauma, the trauma of other non-involved people is not a good argument for its destruction. It’s a reasonable demand to ask for triggering material to be tagged properly so you can avoid it, it’s unreasonable to demand it shouldn’t exist.

Yet transfems are expected to accede to the latter demand. And I think this is because of what May Peterson calls transfeminized debt. It’s how we trans women in feminist circles are expected to be perfect women and perfect feminists to be acknowledged as women at all, instead of as monsters to be destroyed. Of course because nobody is perfect, this leads to every trans woman eventually being thought of as a monster.

We are treated as having to pay off the debt of male socialization/privilege to get basic human rights. And this in practice means conceding every disagreement with TME people, and agreeing to every demand they make of us. Or else we get the hot allostatic load treatment.

And that’s why kinky transfems are expected to fulfil the ridiculous demand from certain puritanical TME people that “I’m not involved in your kink, but I have trauma relating to it, so you can’t do it.” And are treated as evil monsters for not fulfilling it. It’s clearly transfeminized debt and transmisogyny, we are treated as privileged perverted monsters, inherently exempt from sexual violence. And that is used to justify sexual harassment, in the form of callout posts for our sex lives.

[supershot73199]

Ok I'm back with another dcxdp overprotective Danny fic/prompt. No specific ship for this one.

Though Barbara is there this time.

Barbara couldn't help but smile as she looked at all the little kids in the library doing arts and crafts. She loved seeing all the kids different art projects though if she had to be honest she had a favorite little artist.

"Ms Barbara look look! I drew the Signal he looked so cool on his motorcycle!"

Speak of the devil, the little girl proudly running up to show of her art was named Dawn Nightingale a precious four year old who had mistaken Barbara for her Auntie Jazz the first time they met. (Not that Barbara blamed her she had seen a picture of the girls Aunt and they looked almost identical.)

"That looks wonderful why don't you go pin it to the art wall by the door so everyone can see it?" Barbara said as she looked at the surprisingly well done drawing.

As the four year old ran to do so with a cheer Barbara took a quick look over at the girls father, Danny Nightingale was a single father who from what conversations Barbara had with him had his daughter thrust upon him as a teen and was forced to leave home because of prejudiced parents. Despite this he was a natural father and was doing well to care for her even going so far as to be enrolled in engineering courses at Gotham U even while working full time to support his kid.

The single father was helping some of the younger kids while ignoring the single mothers trying to flirt with him with either practiced grace, or density befitting a black hole.

Before she could go to scare off the more persistent women (for Christs sake some of these women were over a decade older than him) there was a sudden bang as the doors to the library burst open revealed the Joker in all his pasty faced glory.

"Well well what fun! A group art project! It's a good thing I was in the area because now you kiddos get to help with Uncle Jokers art. C'mere brat."

Barbara had hit the panic button on her wheelchair the moment the Joker came through the door but she is not too proud to admit that she froze the moment he reached out and grabbed Dawn who had still been near the door hanging up her picture.

She could see the fear on the child she considered an honorary niece and found it hard to listen to what the demented clown was saying. Not that it mattered as before the Joker finished demanding the library patrons do what he said or else he was suddenly stepping back from the heavy blow that an enraged Danny had dealt.

The Joker having let go of Dawn, who ran to Barbara as soon as she was free, could not even seem to muster a defense as Danny beat him right out the door. Every weapon or gag he tried to pull out was either knocked aside or grabbed and used on him. The last thing Barbara saw before the door swung shut was Danny taking the flag gun the Joker tried to pull out and breaking it on the Jokers face.

With her arms now full of crying toddler Barbara did her best to comfort her and just as soon as she managed to calm her the door opening made her look up only to see Danny walking back in.

"Daddy!" The ballistic missile shaped like a toddler leapt into her fathers arms as he held her close.

"It's OK. It's all good. Daddy won't ever let anyone hurt you OK? There isn't anything in this world or the next that will keep me from you."

Barbara turned from the heartwarming display but only because she heard the door opening again thankfully this time it was Signal walking in Barbara figured he must have already secured the Joker since he didn't seem to be in a rush.

"Hey is everyone OK in here? Any injuries? No ok then I'm going to ask you all to stay in here and stay calm until the GCPD can take statements and get done scraping the Joker off the curb." The nervous undercurrent to Dukes voice should have clued Barbara that something was different but then that last statement hit her. Danny must have knocked the Joker out before coming back inside.

Speaking of Danny he was walking over with a Dawn who had fallen asleep in his arms after crying herself out.

"Hey I wanted to thank you for comforting Dawn. This situation was not something she should have been exposed to and I'm glad that she had someone trustworthy nearby to go to. And I am sorry buy I need to ask you one more favor... do you think you could watch Dawn until my sister gets off work if the cops detain me?"

Barbara couldn't help but double take at that.

"I don't mind but I doubt that will happen." She assured.

"Maybe but I did just stain the street with Jokers brain matter. So it's definitely a non zero chance."

Barbara couldn't help it, she was dumbfounded clearly she was mishearing.

"I'm sorry I must be hearing things, it sounded like you said you killed the Joker."

"Yeah I did. I won't let anyone hurt my family especially not that Steven King reject."

The next couple hours passed in a haze of reassuring parents and answering questions from the police for Barbara.

Thankfully Danny was not detained and was allowed to take Dawn home. Though he did ask Detective Bullock if he needed to be worried about and charges being pressed.

"Haha kid your more likely to get a medal or a holiday for this. Everyone has been hurt by that clown in some way.

Later when she was finally able to get the the clock tower she was unsurprised to find Jason waiting for her there. Clearly he had the same idea that she had, that is using her camera outside the library so that she could see what happened for closure.

The pair watched as this young man beat the Joker back at a different angle than when she saw it earlier that day. But shortly after the door shut she saw it happen so fast a trip over the step with Joker having the wind knocked out of him throwing a loose piece of concrete at the single father who caught it and the proceeded to bash the failed jester until he was unrecognizable.

Jason was the first to break the silence.

"I'm going to need a copy of that video and I suggest you make another one to give to Harley at your next girls night with the sirens."

"Deal but only if you get Alfred to help me cook him thank you meal."

[fanficlolsblog]

JUST A LITTLE BITE

back to my main masterlist

pairing: vampire fem!reader x wednesday addams

summary: Y/N, a vampire, returns to wednesday addams' dorm after a day out, sensing her girlfriend's hidden frustration at being apart. as Y/N teases wednesday about her vampire nature, they share playful intimacy through biting. their connection deepens, revealing wednesday’s vulnerability and desire, ultimately strengthening their bond in the shadows.

warnings: mentions of light bitting, vamprism, blood play.

It had been a long day out with my friends, filled with laughter and sunlight, both of which always seemed a little too bright for my liking. As a vampire, I thrived in the dark, where the shadows embraced me like an old friend. But today had been different. I wanted to enjoy life outside my usual midnight escapades, if only for a while. Still, all I could think about was getting back to her.

As I stepped into the dimly lit hallway of Nevermore Academy, a chill ran down my spine, a mixture of excitement and anticipation. I moved silently, my footsteps barely making a sound against the polished floor. Wednesday Addams’ dorm room was just a few doors down, and I could feel an inexplicable pull toward her, one that always seemed to intensify the longer I was away.

I pushed open the door, the hinges creaking softly. The room was just as I remembered it: dark, cluttered with peculiar artifacts and a hint of the macabre. Wednesday was sitting on her bed, a book sprawled open in front of her, but her eyes were glued to the window, lost in thought.

“Hey,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

She turned slowly, her expression unreadable. “You took your time,” she replied, her tone flat but with an undercurrent of something deeper.

I could sense it immediately. There was a heaviness in the air, a tension that I recognized well. Wednesday often masked her emotions behind a veneer of indifference, but I could see through it. “Did you miss me?” I asked, trying to keep the teasing light.

“Hardly,” she retorted, but her eyes flickered with something that felt like longing.

I moved closer, noting the way she shifted slightly, an unconscious invitation. “You know it’s not the same without you,” I said softly, my gaze locking onto hers. “I hate being away from you.”

For a moment, I thought I saw a flash of vulnerability in her dark eyes, but she quickly masked it with her usual stoicism. “Well, you’re back now. That’s all that matters.”

I perched on the edge of her bed, the tension between us palpable. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Wednesday. I can sense how you feel.”

Her lips twitched, but she suppressed a smile. “You can’t always read me like an open book, Y/N.”

“Maybe not, but I know you well enough to tell when you’re upset.” I leaned in closer, catching the faint scent of her shampoo mixed with something uniquely her. “What’s really bothering you?”

She paused, her gaze drifting to the book in front of her, avoiding my eyes. “I just... don’t like being ignored,” she said, the faintest hint of frustration creeping into her voice.

I reached out, brushing my fingers against hers. “You weren’t ignored, I just needed some time out. But I’m here now.” I hesitated for a moment before adding, “And I think you secretly love it when I bite you.”

A smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she quickly suppressed it, her facade slipping momentarily. “I don’t ‘love’ anything,” she said, but I could hear the teasing lilt in her tone.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” I leaned closer, my fangs grazing her neck. She shivered slightly, and I could see the rush of excitement in her dark eyes.

“Y/N,” she murmured, her voice a mix of annoyance and thrill. “You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe, but you enjoy it.” I brushed my lips against her skin, just above where my fangs would pierce. I could feel her heartbeat quicken, a rhythm that matched my own in a way that was both intoxicating and terrifying.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, but the breathiness in her voice betrayed her.

“Then let me show you.” I pressed my fangs against her neck, teasingly light, just enough to make her breath hitch. I could feel the tension in her body, the way she leaned into me, craving that small bit of pain mingled with pleasure.

“Just a little bite,” I whispered, allowing myself the indulgence of sinking my fangs into her skin for the briefest moment. The taste of her blood was warm and inviting, and I pulled back, a satisfied smile on my lips. “See? Not so bad.”

Wednesday’s expression shifted, her usual stoic demeanor faltering as she tried to regain control. “You’re a menace,” she said, though her eyes sparkled with something darker, something that told me she wanted more.

I couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling a surge of warmth at the sight of her struggle to maintain her composure. “Maybe, but you like me just the way I am.”

“Perhaps,” she said, feigning nonchalance, but her gaze betrayed her interest. “You’re certainly not boring.”

“Glad to hear it.” I brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering on her cool skin. “And you’re definitely not boring either.”

She leaned into my touch, and for a moment, the distance between us vanished. I could feel the weight of her longing, the unspoken words hanging in the air. “What are we doing, Y/N?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I smiled, my heart racing. “Whatever we want. As long as you’re with me.”

For the first time, Wednesday’s defenses seemed to crack just a bit. She smiled, a small, genuine smile that made my heart flutter. “Then let’s not waste any more time.”

[superectojazzmage]

Just back from Alien Romulus and hoooo boy oh boy. Review/analysis.

Easily the best Alien movie since the first two, which isn't saying much, yeah, but it is legit a really cool and well-made movie, competing with Late Night With The Devil, Longlegs, and Cuckoo for title of my favorite horror movie this year.

In a lot of ways it's about harvesting the few good ideas from the post-2 movies that were squandered and doing them right, plus getting the series back to it's healthier roots, kinda the movie equivalent of someone doing physical therapy to get back in the saddle after an injury. This means it's not quite brand new ground like some may hope for and I've heard some people feel it gets a little derivative at points because of it. I can kinda agree and certainly understand that criticism, but I feel it does what it's aiming for really well and sets things up for future works to go in even crazier directions. Furthermore, it takes a lot of time to try and weld together the disparate post-2 movies in a way that brings the series back to a little coherency.

The atmosphere is really intense and cool, swinging between lovecraftian dread and build-up and high-energy chaos. The aesthetics and special effects are gorgeous, taking full advantage of the progress that technology has made since 2 plus really digging in to the used cassette future vibe of the older films. The characters are likable and actually intelligent (or at least understandable) in behavior like in the first two movies, so you care about what's happening to them instead of just waiting for them to get munched. The action and kills were really cool and creative, the cinematography in general was off-kilter in an awesome way - there's a definite attempt to make the movie feel claustrophobic and intimate. Fede Alvarez did a fantastic job in general, I'd love to see him do more with the series.

It REALLY cranks up the series' psychosexual, freudian, and sexual assault subtext, arguably to a point where it's just plain text. So if you're sensitive to stuff like that or if this is your first go at Alien, be warned for that.

More specific notes go under the header for spoilers. Highly recommend you go in as blind as you can.

Andy and Rain were wonderful leads, their dynamic was fantastic and Calie Spaeny and David Jonsson both turned in great performances. I direly hope they join the first two films' casts as "major" characters for the series going forward.

The effects to make Daniel Betts look like Ian Holms were quite possibly the one and only time the special effects failed. It looks very wonky, which is sad because Betts does a really good job copying Holms' mannerisms for Ash while still making Rook feel like a distinct character.

In addition to the usual themes of sexual unease, genetics, and parenthood, this movie adds in some really interesting themes of familial legacy, the rise of new generations, foundations, etc.. Andy and Rain are like Romulus and Remus of myth, orphaned and left to fend for themselves but growing into founders of a new age - both in-story with their carrying the XX121 substance and evidence of Weyland-Yutani's misdeeds to Yvaga and out-of-story with them being the protagonists of a new era for Alien. Likewise, the Offspring is the first example of an entirely new species, neither human nor alien but taking from the lineages of both through Kay and Big Chap, a Romulus-like founder of it's breed that will later bear fruit in Resurrection with the Ripley clone and Newborn.

I'm really not kidding when I say above that the psychosexual undercurrents are taken to the extreme here. This movie basically sees the ways the original film subtly pin-pricked at those themes, says "fuck that", and deliberately rubs it in your face in a way designed to make sure you can't ignore it. It wants you to be grossed out and to squirm in your chair and it knows exactly how to make it happen.

Alvarez noted in the lead-up to release that he took a lot of influence from Isolation and you can definitely see that in how he depicts the Xenomorphs and the general aura of the film. He further described it as a kind of halfway point between the first and second movies and you can also see that; it has the Lovecraft-style tension and horror of the first, balanced with the energy and action of the second, and it does a really good job finding a middle ground between Ridley Scott and James Cameron's styles while also doing it's own dance.

I mentioned way back at the start how the movie basically harvests the good ideas from 3, Resurrection, Prometheus, and Covenant and gives them the room they deserve while dumping the bad. It does that in both terms of themes/style and continuity/lore. Concepts that those movies bungled like xeno-human hybridism, the black goo, genetic engineering as a focus, and so on are done here more creatively and competently. Themes that those films tried and failed to tackle are handled with significantly more grace. It has the atmosphere and characterization of 3 but none of it's baggage and needlessly depressive tone. It has the body horror and weirdness of Resurrection without taking it to the zany, embarrassing areas that movie went. The effects and creativity of Prometheus and Covenant without any of their awful writing and clumsy messages. Alvarez takes on kind of an Al Ewing-esque "repairman" writing style here.

The Xenomorphs are absolutely deranged in behavior compared to most portrayals, attacking like either cruel sadists or raging chimps and rarely bothering to take hosts. I'm not sure if such a reading was intended, but I got the vibe that the idea is Xenos raised without a queen or hive grow to be basically sociopathic like how real world predatory animals grown without parental figures become feral and dysfunctional. Which would also explain a lot about how the Xeno in the original movie, Big Chap, acts there.

The Offspring's design is fucking wicked and I love it.

One of my few major criticisms is that Big Chap died off-screen instead of getting more to do. What was the point of having him be alive at the start if he wasn't gonna be used beyond a backstory point to set up the main story?

All in all, a very impressive effort and a great return to form for the series that I recommend highly.

[ceilidho]

prompt: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 3. (part 1 here) (part 2 here)

-

The man at your till is making you feel increasingly uncomfortable. 

He’s a stocky man, not quite as imposing as John, but still big. He’s particularly unnerving because the man has been standing by your till for the past few minutes without having anything in his hands. No basket in sight. Not a rutabaga or a bushel of carrots or even a single jar of olives.

It’s as if he just blew in off the street; dark hair mussed from the wind, shabbily dressed for the winter as if the cold weren’t even an issue for him. The intensity of his stare makes your skin crawl though, and it’s even worse when he decides to strike up a conversation with you. 

It’s like he only came into the shop to stare at you and make creepy, suggestive comments. Laswell comes out from the back when his presence starts to make even the other customers uncomfortable, but all that does is relegate him to the parking lot, where he’s free to loiter and stare at you through the window all he wants. 

You delay the inevitable for almost half an hour because you keep talking yourself out of calling John. It’s not like you’re not familiar with each other by now—he’s taken you to diners and cafés, and you’ve brought him tupperware filled with stew and casserole on the days when you’ve watched him slump up the steps of his front porch, looking haggard and about to fall on his face—but it feels intrusive. A favour you wouldn’t normally ask of him. It almost feels like you’re using him, actually. 

Still though, after some time you almost feel like you don’t have a choice. You either call John or the police, and the latter option is vastly more unappealing. Then you’d really be causing a ruckus for nothing. 

Since your phone is stored under the desk by the till, you take a second in between customers to dial John’s number, listening to it ring with your back to the window. That makes your shoulders tense up even more, acutely aware of two eyes burrowing into the back of your neck. The anxiety puts a cramp in your belly until you hear John pick up.

“John,” you whisper into the phone, hand cupped around the receiver. There’s static on the other end before you hear him grumble your name. “Are you—is this a bad time?”

“No, s’good a time as any,” he says, voice thick and heady. “What’s the matter, honey?”

The sound of his voice makes you shiver like it always does, but the effect is muted under the droning of your anxiety. Like a pale imitation of its usual force. 

“I just was wondering if—would you mind coming down to the shop for a bit?” 

“What for? Need help stocking the shelves?” he asks, still lighthearted. Maybe you’re keeping your cool just a bit too well because he hasn’t yet detected the undercurrent of fear making your voice almost tremble. You glance over your shoulder again and shudder when you see the same man still loitering in the parking lot, eyes locked on you. When he smiles, it’s mean. 

“Actually I—I hope this isn’t rude but there’s…this guy’s been hanging around outside for a bit and…” you start, then stop to chew on your lip. “Well, he’s really starting to freak me out.”

You can almost hear him straighten up on the other end. “What’s that?”

Now his tone makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You’ve never heard him sound like this before—alert all of a sudden, a hard edge to his voice that you might have associated with his work persona if you’d ever seen it before. It fills you with comfort and worry all at once. 

“He came in earlier and he was…well, he kind of came in looking confused and then—I think he noticed me looking at him strangely or something, which I—well, I don’t think I was making like, a weird face or anything, but—”

“Did he say anything to you?” John asks, cutting you off. 

You cup your hand even more around the phone so it muffles your words. “He said I smell…fecund? I don’t even know what that means, but…”

He goes silent for a moment before he speaks again. At first, you think he sounds almost calm, but you clock the way his breathing pattern abruptly changes. “I’ll be there in a few. Don’t move, honey.”

He hangs up before you’re able to say another word. You hold the phone to your ear for another couple of seconds before your eyes inevitably dart back to the window, where the other man is still staring at you, his upper lip curled. 

You try your best to focus on your job, checking each new customer out while steadfastly avoiding looking out the main window. It wouldn’t do you any good anyway. In your peripheral vision, you see the dark shadowy form of the man still leaning against his car, eyes still trained on you. It won’t be dark for another hour or so, but the fact that your shift only ends when it’s well past the daylight hours makes your hands tremble when you scan a container of hummus. You mess up the code for artichoke three separate times.

You don’t see the moment John pulls into the parking lot, but you hear the commotion and your head whips around just in time to see him dragging the other man into the woods behind the grocers, one big arm wrapped around his neck. He’s somehow bigger than the man you’d thought towered over you, making his struggle seem pointless as he's dragged off by John. 

It’s over so quickly that when the two of them disappear past the treeline, you almost think you imagined it for a second. Then another second goes by and you find John’s car haphazardly parked in the lot, the door still open. At least he managed to turn it off.

“Kate, did you—” you say, turning towards when you remember last seeing her restock the boxed panettone display only to find your manager standing in front of your till, staring out the same window as you. 

“Shit,” she says, blinking. A bit awed. “Never seen John that mad before.”

“He’s, uh—I called him because that guy wouldn’t leave. I thought maybe he’d…I don’t know what I thought he’d do, honestly.”

“You know, we could’ve called the sheriff.”

You don’t want to admit that your first thought was always John. Not the police. “Oh. I guess.” 

The two of you keep staring out the window. Neither man emerges from the treeline. 

“Should I—”

“Don’t even think about suggesting that you go check on him. He’s a grown man and you’re still on the clock.”

“Got it,” you mumble, a bit peeved.

Kate looks at you from the corner of her eye. “Besides, John’ll have my head if he finds out I let his favourite cashier chase after him into the woods where he just dragged off a man harassing her.”

“He wouldn’t do that—”

You’re cut off when a customer waiting at your till clears their throat, forcing you to leave your station at the window. Kate’s smug smile haunts you while you ring the impatient customer up. She heads back to her office before you’re able to say your piece, leaving you to stew in silence.

There aren’t usually many customers in the middle of a random weekday, so you have nothing to do except stare out the window and fret. Your heart skips a beat any time the trees sway with the breeze. Another customer gives you a bit of a hassle over a two-for-one deal that your scanner didn’t pick up and you almost snap at them. 

You finally make the decision to leave your till when the trees rustle and your heart stops for a second before John steps back out into the parking lot, looking dishevelled but no worse for wear. His hat is gone. There’s a nasty cut on his lip and it seems like his shirt has been fully ripped open, exposing a wide, hairy chest and two thick pectorals. You do not stare at the way the hair on his chest whorls around his brown nipples. 

His eyes are locked on you through the window and his brows furrow when he watches you jog to the doors. When they slide open, you hear him shout from across the lot, “Back inside.”

“I can—”

“Get back inside.”

You pout, but listen, taking a step back in and letting the doors shut with a whoosh. You wait anxiously on the balls of your feet until they slide open again when John finally crosses the parking lot in only a few short seconds. He zips up his coat before coming inside, depriving you of the view. You have to school your face so that your pout doesn’t deepen.

“Are you okay—” you ask when he steps into the grocery store, but no one in this town seems to be able to let you finish a sentence because he cuts you off almost immediately.

“Where’s Laswell?” he asks, almost rhetorically because he sidesteps you after a brief touch to your chin to tilt your head up, eyes tracking across your face as if looking for something to rile him up even more. “Kate.” 

You shush him when you trail after him towards the back where Kate’s office door is wide open. His voice carries on a good day; after his tussle out in the forest, it seems to boom across the store, drawing curious eyes. You smile weakly.

“Busy today?” It’s the first thing out of his mouth when he reaches the door of Kate’s office. Her chair is already turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest and blonde hair pulled up into a tight bun.

“It’s normal,” Kate says, almost like a challenge. “Business as usual.”

“Good. I’m taking your cashier home then. That gonna be an issue?”

Kate rolls her eyes. “I’m trembling. You didn’t get all of this out with the other guy? Still need a good fight?”

“Please, John, I can stay—I’m really sorry about all of this,” you say, turning from John back to Kate, a bit frazzled now that it’s sunk in. A faint tremor works its way through you. You don’t even realize the way you unconsciously grip John’s jacket, anchoring yourself in place. 

“Honey, we’re going home,” John stresses, fitting a hand against your low back, drawing you a bit closer. You move into him without a thought, like a natural pull. 

Kate’s eyes soften when she meets yours. “It’s fine, I can cover the till for the rest of the afternoon. John’s right—just go home. I still know how to work a register, you know.”

He doesn’t let you stay a moment longer to argue or insist that you stay and cover your shift. He sweeps you out the door with a warm hand still low on your back, letting you briefly grab your coat and bag before hustling you to his car. It’s freezing inside from the wide open door, so he blasts the hot air until you slump into the passenger seat, the heat lulling you into a stupor. 

The drive back home—whatever home at this point means—is long. Part of you wonders whether he’ll drive you to work tomorrow to pick up your car or if you’ll be forced to take a bus, but it isn’t the time or place to be thinking about those things. 

“What’d you do with him?” you mumble, turning your head to stare at the side of his face. The cut of his jaw is hard, obscured somewhat by the beard growing in heavy with the winter, but deeply masculine like something out of an old western. You think you’d happily count every bristle without complaint if he let you.

“Taught him to mind his manners,” John says. The answer is short, to the point. It makes you tremble. 

“Like, to respect women?”

He turns his head to look over at you. It’s just for a moment, brief in the grand scheme of things, but it feels significant. Pointed. Sustained. “To not touch what isn’t his.”

The truck never so much as wavers on the road.

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕜🧸

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ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕨𝕠: Why is she here?

Word count: 3832

Summary: In this chapter, Felix anxiously prepares for Y/N, their new pack member, to arrive at their home. Despite Chan’s announcement generating excitement, some pack members, especially Hyunjin and Seungmin, are skeptical. Felix reassures Y/N that the pack is eager to meet her, even though he senses underlying tension. Upon arrival, Y/N is greeted warmly by Minho and Han, which helps ease her anxiety. Felix explains the pack’s bond, which allows them to communicate and sense each other’s emotions. Though apprehensive about the bond, Y/N finds comfort in Felix’s support. During dinner, the atmosphere turns tense when Hyunjin and Seungmin express disapproval of Y/N’s inclusion, leading to a confrontation. Upset and overwhelmed, Y/N has a panic attack. Felix comforts her, helping her calm down and feel more at ease despite the rocky start.

Warning: Angst/comfort, cursing, hate, insecurities,

It had been about 15 minutes when Felix, the only person awake at the moment, noticed that they were approaching the house. His nerves grew as he worried that the boys wouldn't like her. The group chat began to buzz when Chan announced the new member of the pack. As usual, everyone except Han was skeptical about the situation, but they were also buzzing with excitement.

"If you all are sure about it, then I am," Changbin said through the bond for everyone to hear.

"I'm with Changbin. I trust you guys, so if you're so sure about it, then let's see where this takes us," Minho adds to the conversation.

Sometimes, Felix wondered why they even needed to text each other when they had a bond and could communicate through it. However, Chan said that texting was important for their human connection and that they needed to learn social skills, which was a fair point after all. Chan knew best.

"Thank you Mingi," Felix politely said as they stopped in front of the house. He turned to Y/n and gently pushed her hair away from her face, revealing a small beauty mark that resembled Hyunjin's.

"Y/n, we're here," Felix murmured softly, gently shaking her awake. She blinked, taking in the imposing structure of the house before them. The sight of it made her heart race. Was this really happening? Was this grand building about to become her new home? Her mind swirled with worries—what if the pack didn't accept her? What if she made a mistake? What if—

"Hey, stop overthinking," Felix said, trying to sound reassuring. "I'm nervous too, but believe me, they're excited to meet you. I can feel it through the bond." It wasn't entirely true—Felix did sense the excitement the pack was feeling through the bond, but he was also acutely aware of the frustrations and anger simmering beneath the surface, which churned his stomach.

He couldn't ignore the undercurrent of tension from Hyunjin and Seungmin. It hurt to think that two members of the pack, were already shutting her down with such negative feelings toward her when they barely knew. He understood their protective instincts and where they were coming from—they had always been like this ever since... well, ever since he had left. Felix knew that their feelings came from a place of deep loyalty and protectiveness for their home and pack.

"Really?" she asked, a wave of relief washing over her as his reassuring words eased her anxiety. She felt a surge of confidence and was finally able to take a deep breath. "Wow," she murmured, her eyes widening as she took in the grandeur of the building. "You all live here?"

"Yeah, it's amazing, right?" Felix replied with a grin. "Minho-hyung put so much effort into building it. He wanted it to be nestled by the forest, and Chan, being all love-struck, was totally on board. Now we can go hunting, fishing, or just let our wolves roam whenever we want." As they stepped inside, Y/N was greeted by a jumble of shoes at the entrance and a medley of sweet scents that instantly made her omega purr with contentment.

"I'm home!" Felix called out cheerfully as he stepped through the door. "Leave your shoes here," he instructed, and Y/N followed his lead, slipping off her shoes.

"Finally, Lix! Dinner is ready! Go wash up and—oh, hello! Who's your new friend, Lixie?" A strikingly handsome man appeared, his face beaming with a radiant smile. He wore an apron smeared with flour, which made Y/n chuckle.

"Minho-hyung!" Felix groaned in mock exasperation as he tiptoed to wipe the flour off Minho's face. "I told you to act natural, but you're terrible at it." He planted a quick kiss on Minho's lips before turning back to Y/N, who was smiling warmly at the scene.

"Okay, okay, I know," Minho said with a playful roll of his eyes. "But how was I supposed to act natural when you texted the group screaming that you'd found the last soulmate?" He huffed dramatically, still teasing Felix as he continued to fuss with his apron.

"Yeah, I didn't quite think that through..." Felix mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Anyway, Y/N, this is Minho—or Minnie, or babe, or baby, or—"

"Okay, okay, I think she gets the point, Felix!" Minho interrupted with a groan, ruffling Felix's hair affectionately. He turned to Y/N with a gentle smile, as if she were the most delicate thing in the world. "Hey there," he said softly, "It's really nice to meet you. You're absolutely beautiful."

Y/N blushed deeply, her cheeks turning a soft pink as her omega purred in delight at the warm welcome. "T-thank you, Beta," she responded shyly, her voice trembling with emotion. "It's nice to meet you too, Minho. You smell really nice, and you're so pretty." She gazed up at him through her long lashes, and Minho's heart nearly burst with happiness.

"Thank you," Minho said warmly, his eyes shining. "I made a big meal to welcome you to the pack. Why don't you wash up with Felix and then come join us? I'm sure you're starving." As if on cue, her stomach rumbled, drawn by the tantalizing aroma of the food cooking in the kitchen. She nodded, her face flushing with embarrassment.

"Thank you, it really means a lot," Y/N said, bowing slightly. Before she could straighten up, Felix had already tugged her past Minho and into the living room.

"Oh my God, I need to give you a tour of the house," Felix said with a chuckle, "but first, you might want to brace yourself."

"What do you mean, Felix—" Y/N started, but her question was cut off as Felix suddenly called out, "Han! Guess who's here!"

Confused, Y/N barely had time to react before she heard rapid footsteps descending the stairs, accompanied by a fresh, fruity scent—cherries and sweet lemon.

"I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming!" chanted a brown-haired boy as he flew down the stairs, nearly tripping over himself. Without hesitation, he leaped into Y/N's arms, snuggling against her as if she were his long-lost friend. "I'm here!" he cheered, burrowing into her embrace like an exuberant puppy. Y/N giggled, trying to keep her balance as she held the enthusiastic boy.

His large, brown eyes and round cheeks made her coo at his cuteness, reminiscent of a fluffy squirrel. He pulled back slightly to touch her face. "So pretty," he whispered in awe.

"Told you," Felix said with a grin, watching the scene unfold. Han then threw his arms around Felix in a tight hug, showering his face with kisses. "Felix, you did it! You found the last piece! She's so... SHE'S SO..."

"Breathtaking!" a deep voice boomed from the corner. Everyone turned to see a muscular, imposing figure stepping into the room, his presence commanding immediate attention.

"Binnie! Hey! Come say hi to Y/N!" Felix called, waving enthusiastically. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she recognized the strong scent of mint and rainy forest emanating from the approaching figure. An alpha. Though she wasn't terrified, she couldn't shake off the lingering trauma from her past. Her instincts made her take a hesitant step back behind Felix, causing a flash of hurt to cross Felix's face.

"Hey, he won't hurt you," Felix said softly, his voice tinged with concern. "This is Changbin, remember? I told you about him. I know alphas can be intimidating, but I promise you he's really nice. I'll be right here with you." He squeezed her hand reassuringly.

Y/N nodded slowly, forcing a smile as she extended a hand towards Changbin. "H-hey, Binnie. It's nice to meet you," she said quietly.

Changbin's face lit up with a relieved smile as he took her hand gently and kissed it. "Hey there, little one. It's nice to meet you too. Welcome to the pack. I hope my scent doesn't trouble you," he said softly.

"No, it won't," Y/N replied, tracing her fingers over the spot he had kissed. "I just need some time to get used to it, Changbin. But judging by how my omega is reacting, she really likes you." She looked into his eyes earnestly. "Please be patient with me?"

"Of course, love. Just know that you're one of us now, and no alpha will ever lay a hand on you," Changbin said, his hand gently resting on her chin as he rubbed his thumb across her cheeks, which were now flushed with a rosy hue.

"Ugh, seriously?" Minho's voice came from the kitchen door, dripping with mock disgust. "There are people around! And didn't I tell you two to wash up? Dinner's going to get cold!" The boys groaned in unison as Felix quickly pulled Y/N away, leading her up the stairs.

"Sorry about that," Felix said, a bit flustered as he led her through a maze of corridors. "They get a little clingy when they meet new people."

"It's okay," Y/N reassured him with a small smile. "They seem really nice. Where are the rest?"

Felix stopped in front of a door painted blue with his name on it. "Just a sec. I'll check with I.N." Instead of pulling out a phone or walking to I.N's room, Felix closed his eyes, focusing intently. After a moment, he exhaled and said, "He's in the downstairs gym but he'll be up soon."

Y/N looked at him, intrigued. "How did you...?"

Right..she didn't know about the telepathy. "We can communicate through the bond," Felix explained as he sat down on the bed, removing his sweater. "Have you heard of it?"

"Bond? No, I don't know what that is," she admitted, shaking her head.

"Well," Felix patted the bed beside him, inviting her to sit, "when we became a pack, Channie hyung taught us how to use the bond. It's a way we can communicate and feel each other's emotions. We can even see what someone else is seeing sometimes. It's a bit complicated and might seem strange at first, especially when he marks you. It's a bit embarrassing because we can see, hear, and feel everything you do."

As Felix spoke, Y/N's eyes widened in apprehension. "That sounds... intense."

"Yeah, it can be overwhelming at first," Felix said with a comforting smile. "But you'll get used to it. And remember, it's all about being connected and supporting each other."

"Don't worry, it's not scary at all," Felix said, waving his hands as if to reassure her. He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, making her blink in surprise. The warmth of the gesture was comforting, and despite her initial shock, she couldn't help but feel a flutter inside. After all, he was undeniably attractive. "Would you like to shower first?" he asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from the more overwhelming aspects of their pack's secrets. Felix knew Chan could explain things in a way that would be less daunting for her. After all, he'd once been the new omega himself.

"Yes, please. But I don't have any clothes," she said, glancing down at her old maid's outfit with a frown.

"No problem," Felix said with an encouraging smile. He reached into his wardrobe and pulled out a towel. "I can get you one of my pajamas. Just go ahead." He gently nudged her toward the bathroom, then turned on the water for her. "This is how you turn on the cold water, and this is how you turn on the hot water," he explained, guiding her step by step. She nodded, memorizing each instruction as she absorbed the information.

"Um, Felix?" she said softly, her voice carrying a note of uncertainty.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for everything, really. You're such an angel. I don't know how I could ever repay you," she said, her gaze dropping to the floor as she thought about her uncertain future—probably facing starvation in a dungeon somewhere.

"You don't have to thank me, my love. That's what soulmates are for," Felix said, nuzzling her cheek gently. His touch elicited a soft purr and a contented whine from her omega. "But I do have one request," he added shyly.

""What is it? I'm open to anything," she said quickly, snapping out of her trance and looking up at him.

"C—can you remove your patches?" Felix asked, his voice tinged with frustration. "My omega keeps whining because we can't smell you." His annoyance was directed more at his own omega's insistence than at her. Her eyes widened, and she instinctively placed her hands on her glands, a look of embarrassment crossing her face.

"I—Felix, I wish I could, but... my scent is rotting right now—"

"What? Why?" Felix's concern was evident as he interrupted, his face falling as realization dawned on him. "That only happens when you're... oh." His whisper was filled with regret.

"Yeah," she said softly. "But I promise I'll remove them once I'm feeling better. Please?"

"Of course," Felix said, his voice softening. "I'll get more patches for you." He quickly left the room, and Y/n let out a sigh of relief as she closed the door behind him.

She stepped into the shower, finally peeling off the itchy patches. The hot water felt soothing against her skin, easing some of her tension. As she let the water cascade over her, she traced her fingers over the bruises covering her body—old and new, a mix of purples, blues, and yellows. She winced as her fingers brushed against one particularly sore spot, her mind drifting back to the moment she'd sustained it. The pain was a stark reminder of the trials she'd endured

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"Here you go," Felix said softly, handing her a box of patches and a steaming cup of tea. "This should help with the um... subdrop. Minho works with medicine and he said it might clear up the rotting scent, though it won't do much for how you're feeling," he explained delicately. "I hope it's okay that I told him..."

"It's okay, Lixie. Thank you." She accepted the tea gratefully, taking a soothing sip as Felix slipped into his pajamas. He then gently began braiding her hair, his touch light and comforting. "I.N is here," he whispered, just as a knock resonated through the room. Felix's face lit up with a smile as he opened the door, only to be enveloped in a warm hug. The alpha then placed a tender kiss on Felix's lips before stepping into the room, his grin bright and welcoming.

"Y/n, this is Innie," Felix said, his voice filled with affection. "He's the youngest alpha and the youngest of the pack. He's really sweet." Felix ruffled Innie's hair playfully before settling back down beside Y/n, who offered a shy wave.

"It's nice to meet you, Alpha," she said, bowing slightly as she took in his scent of chocolate and peppermint, which filled the room with a comforting aroma.

"Ah, I see," Innie cooed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "So, they were calling you two the 'sunshine twins.'" He smiled warmly at them both.

"Innie! Stop it," Felix whined, his cheeks flushing a deep red as he covered his face.

"Yah! Stop being so cute!" Innie teased, his voice filled with warmth. "It's so nice to meet you, Y/n. Let's head downstairs to eat before Minho goes mad. Chan just got back from the company. Come on," he said, extending his hand.

Y/n glanced at Felix for reassurance, who nodded encouragingly. She took Innie's hand and then reached for Felix's, the three of them making their way downstairs together. They entered the dining area where all eight packmates were seated, patiently waiting. Y/n offered a quick bow and a wave before sitting next to Felix, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement as she joined her new packmates for the meal.

"So, Y/n, I trust you've met everyone?" Chan's voice filled the room, drawing everyone's attention to her. She looked around and replied, "No, Alpha. I've met 6 out of the 8."

The room was rich with various scents, each contributing to an overall feeling of safety and sweetness, though there was a faint, sour note in the mix.

"She's really sweet, Hyung. She got along just fine with I.N and Changbin," Felix said, his pride evident as he spoke. Chan nodded in approval before taking another bite of his meal.

"That's good to hear. If you need anything, Y/n, don't hesitate to let me know or just talk to Felix or Han," Chan offered her a polite smile. "I'd like to have a chat with you after dinner, if that's alright."

"I'm perfectly okay with that, Oppa," she replied quickly, eager to show her willingness to integrate.

"Alright, enough talk. Welcome to the pack, little one!" Leeknow exclaimed, giving her a friendly ruffle of her hair and adding more meat to her plate. The room erupted in cheerful applause, but Y/n couldn't help noticing the two betas sitting together, casting her sharp, disapproving glances.

One started to speak up but whas quickly shut down by Chan. "Hyung, are you sure—"

"Not now, Hyunjin. Don't ruin the night," Chan cut off the blonde boy, who was seated next to him. Y/N hadn't met either of them yet, nor the other guy with brown hair and blonde streaks. She could tell they were betas and, judging by their expressions, they weren't thrilled about her presence.

Her ears twitched as she overheard snippets of the conversation, but her attention was soon captured by Han, who cheerfully linked their hands together, offering her a warm smile.

"We should go shopping tomorrow, Y/nnie!" Han exclaimed, running his fingers through her long hair with a bright smile. "Felix and I will take you."

"That's exactly what I was thinking, Han!" Felix chimed in enthusiastically from beside her. "Great minds think alike," he added with a boastful grin.

"I—I would love that, but I don't have any money," she hesitated, feeling a bit self-conscious.

"Don't worry about that!" Han waved off her concern with a playful flick of his hand. "That's why we have Chan and Changbin's credit cards. We never go broke. So stop pouting!"

Despite Han's cheerful reassurance, Y/n couldn't shake off the pang of guilt. "I couldn't— I mean, you guys have already welcomed me into your home. I honestly couldn't impose."

"Y/n, you're part of the pack now," Han insisted with a grin. "You don't have a choice. Let us love you and treat you right! Pretty pleaseee?"

"They won't stop until you say yes," Changbin added with a chuckle, startling Y/n as she hadn't realized he was listening. His presence was subtle but his voice carried well, especially against Han's enthusiastic chatter. "So just agree."

"Fine, we can go shopping, Han—"

"And also get nesting supplies—"

"And room decor," Felix interjected with a wink.

Y/n couldn't help but smile at their excitement, feeling a bit overwhelmed but also touched by their eagerness to include her.

"Yeah, you're right," Han continued, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "We can also get her hair and nails done—"

Y/n glanced back and forth between Han and Felix as they eagerly planned out the next day. She couldn't help but smile at their enthusiasm and care, touched by their efforts to make her feel at home. Her gaze drifted back to her plate, but her attention was soon drawn when her name was called from the other end of the table.

"Yes, Oppa?" she responded, looking up at Leeknow.

"I need to know your dietary requirements so I don't accidentally cook something that might make you sick," Leeknow said with a friendly smile.

"Oh, Hyung! You didn't ask us for our dietary requirements," I.N whined from his seat across the table.

"Yeah, well, that's because I don't need to worry about you lot," Leeknow retorted with a snicker. "You guys eat like a small army!"

"Meanie," I.N muttered, giving Leeknow a mock glare.

The sudden loud thump of Hyunjins's fist hitting the table made Y/N flinch. Instinctively, she nuzzled into Felix, seeking comfort from the commotion. Felix wrapped an arm around her, offering a reassuring squeeze as he gave her a warm, comforting smile.

"Hyunjin, don't—"

"No, Chan! You're acting like she's the Luna or something. She's messing up our dynamics!" Hyunjin's voice was sharp, cutting through the room. Every eye turned to him in shock, except for the beta, who merely looked bored.

"You didn't even consult us about adding someone new to the pack," Hyunjin continued, his frustration palpable.

"Hyunjin, stop it! We were always meant to be nine, not eight," Changbin growled, his scent growing increasingly sour. Felix's grip on Y/n tightened, his own scent turning bitter.

"Did you really have to do this in front of her?" Leeknow's voice was a low hiss, his irritation evident.

"He's right, Hyung. You can't just expect us to accept a random, lawless omega—"

"Seungmin, that's harsh! Why would you say something like that?" Han's voice rose in defense, standing up to protect Y/n.

"I-I can leave," Y/n whispered, barely audible. Tears welled up in her eyes as she choked on her words, her heart sinking. She had feared this moment, and now it felt like her worst fears were coming true.

"Felix, take Y/n to the living room. I'll be there in a minute," Chan ordered, his tone icy as he glared at the two betas who had soured the evening.

Without another word, Felix lifted Y/n from her seat and carried her down the hall. As they left, the last thing she heard was Hyunjin's bitter remark: "You're trusting someone we don't even know with Felix? That's absolute bullshit."

They entered a large room with dim lighting, cozy couches, and blankets scattered around. A massive flat-screen TV was mounted on the wall, and a bar was set up in the corner. Her knees gave out, and she sank onto a couch, curling up into herself. Quiet sniffles escaped her as she struggled to hold back her tears, overwhelmed by the sharp sting of rejection.

"Hey... it's okay. No need to cry. I'm sorry—"

"Please don't..." Y/n whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. Her fingers trembled as she picked at the frayed edges of her hoodie, her panic escalating into a storm that churned in her chest. Every breath felt shallow and tight, her heartbeat a frantic drum in her ears. The room seemed to close in around her, a suffocating presence of her fears and insecurities. She felt an overwhelming wave of shame and self-loathing crash over her, thoughts spiraling in a dark vortex of self-doubt. No one would want a ruined omega. They were dirty, used, and unworthy—

"Breathe, Y/n. Breathe for me, please. You're panicking," Felix's voice cut through the storm. His eyes, full of concern, locked onto hers, grounding her in the chaos. "You don't have to talk, but you need to try and calm down, okay?"

She turned away, her breathing ragged and uneven, but his hands gently guided her into a hug. The warmth of his embrace enveloped her, his scent—a soothing blend of cedar and honey—washing over her in waves. "I'm right here. No one is going to hurt you. Not while I'm here. Those two are just being pricks. I promise, we all want you here..."

As Felix's scent enveloped her, her frantic thoughts began to blur, the edge of her anxiety softening. Her body felt like it was melting into his embrace, every tense muscle loosening under his tender care. "There we go... nice and easy," he whispered, his voice a soft, reassuring murmur. He continued to coo softly, his gentle presence a balm to her frayed nerves, slowly pulling her back from the precipice of her panic.

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Dont forget to reblog and follow! <3

Taglist: @ihrtlix @bowsnbang @katsukis1wife @thegingerthatwaited (open)

[melonisopod]

It just seems like some people couldn't handle the themes in Canto 7. Those being that well-intended, entirely non-malicious people without a mean bone in their body, can monumentally fuck things up for everyone around them, and that this isn't a reason to give up any hope of trying to make a better world, but only that you need caution and foresight while doing so.

There are people who are angry Don Quixote Sr. is just a nice, goofy dad and the worst things you can say about him are that he has a favorite daughter and he didn't consider the flaws in his grand plans. There is no sinister undercurrent here he's just a dumbass, just like the original Don Quixote from the novel. He's a man caught up in his own fantasy world and drags other people into it, and while he's got the optimism and morals of Man of La Mancha he has all the disastrous end results of his book counterpart.

Then there are people mad that Sancho chose to keep the monicker 'Don Quixote' in memory of her Father, and continue to pursue his dream for a better world, even if it may not be possible. When frankly, her coming out of this chapter a broken husk of her former self and stripped of all joy because "the world is a cruel evil place!" would have been boring and cliche. Not to mention, wallowing in your own misery and hopelessness is the easy way out - continuing to believe in a better future and smiling through is much harder. I think Don choosing to be happy as a conscious choice, not something out of ignorance, is a great conclusion to her character arc.

Overall, I loved the ending of Canto 7 and I love Don Quixote even more than I already did before.

[mingi-s-dimples]

Primal Instinct - San

KINKTOBER DAY 11, REQ. BY @arki-sha

~"Hi Bia!!! I have a Werewolf San brainrot rn because I rewatched his Warriors dance cover so I'll request a Werewolf San x Human Reader.. So, San is in a rut but he doesn't want to spend it with the reader so he was deliberately avoiding her. And when the reader decided to go to San's apartment to confront him, she found out that San was in a rut and that's were the shit happens. As for the kinks, go wild with it girl. But I would like to have some size kink as well as man handling with it. Thank youuu!!!!"

pairing: werewolf!san x human fem!reader

genre: 18+, filth

summary: when you decide to confront San after days of him avoiding you, unknowingly step into the lair of a werewolf in rut, you ignite a night of uncontrollable desire and primal intensity.

wc: 3.7k

warnings: werewolf!san, san is in a rut, san is damn desperate and needy, biting, marking, predator/prey kinda feeling, making out, kissing, lots of cum, two rounds, wall sex, dinner table sex, neck holding, breast fondling, manhandling, big dick!san (obvi), some mentions of slightly bleeding marks because of his biting? ex reader's lip bleeding. unprotected (boooo wrap up irl!), completely consensual, unedited, might edit later, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: THIS IS TASTYYYY I LOVE ME SOME NEEDY DESPERATE SAN OMFG. He's so rough but needy and wjiebicjwicjshx I'm going insane. My love, I took EXTRA care of this fic and I hope it's up to your expectations ! Personally I lvoed writing it and I feel like I improved a lost since I first started writing here.. ☹️❤️ I love you and tysm for being one of my loyal followers until nowww 🫂💗

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the members in any way.

The chill of autumn had started to settle in, and with it, a strange tension that had been growing in the air. You could feel it creeping into the small space you and San shared, an undercurrent that had begun subtly but now lingered like a heavy fog. The house was quieter than usual, too quiet, and it had been that way for days. You’d grown accustomed to San’s presence, his warmth and affection filling the room with a sense of home. But lately, he’d been avoiding you, pulling away in ways that left you confused and worried.

San had always been open with you, even about the most complex aspects of his life as a werewolf. You had long since come to terms with it—his otherworldly strength, his heightened senses, the way his eyes sometimes glowed in the moonlight with a predatory gleam. These were parts of him you accepted, parts you even loved. Your relationship had always been built on trust and understanding, and San had always taken extra care to make sure you felt safe, no matter what side of him you were dealing with.

But now, for the past few days, something had changed. He had started to distance himself, keeping to his room and avoiding any close contact. At first, you thought maybe he was just going through something personal, something he needed time to work through on his own. But as the days dragged on, the silence between you two became unbearable.

It wasn’t like him. San was affectionate, constantly pulling you close, holding your hand, pressing soft kisses to your forehead in moments when words weren't needed. The absence of his touch had left a cold emptiness in its wake. You missed the way he’d look at you, his gaze filled with warmth and a deep, protective love. Now, he barely looked at you at all.

The curiosity gnawed at you, mingled with concern. What could be so bad that he had to lock himself away from you? What was he hiding?

Today, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had knocked on his door earlier, only for San to mutter something about being busy. But that excuse wasn’t going to work again. You stood outside his door now, hesitating for only a second before deciding that you needed answers. You loved San too much to let this strange distance go on any longer. If something was wrong, you deserved to know what it was.

Your hand hovered over the doorknob before you pushed it open, the soft creak of the wood breaking the silence in the hallway. The room was dim, the curtains drawn tight to keep the outside world at bay. San was sitting at the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, his body rigid with tension. His sharp features were drawn tight, and even from where you stood, you could sense the storm brewing inside him.

“San?” you called softly, stepping into the room.

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice, and for a brief moment, a flicker of something wild passed through his eyes before he quickly looked away, running a hand through his messy hair. “You shouldn’t be in here,” he said, his voice rougher than usual, strained.

You frowned, your concern deepening. “What’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me for days. I just want to know what’s wrong. Did I do something?”

San’s hands clenched into fists on his knees, the muscles in his arms tensing. “It’s not you,” he muttered, his voice so low it was almost a growl. “It’s me. You need to leave, *now*.”

His words stung, but more than that, they confused you. This wasn’t like him at all. You took a tentative step closer, refusing to back down. “I’m not going anywhere, San. Please, talk to me. Whatever this is, we can figure it out together.”

He stood up abruptly, turning away from you and facing the wall. His shoulders were broad, his back muscles taut under his shirt, as if he were holding himself together by sheer force of will. “You don’t understand,” he ground out. “I’m not safe to be around right now. I’m in a rut, Y/N. The first real one I’ve had in years.”

Your eyes widened in understanding as his words sank in. You had heard about werewolf ruts before, but this was the first time you were facing it with San. A rut was intense, primal, a period when his instincts were heightened to the point of losing control. San had always been careful about managing his shifts and moods around you, but this… this was something new, something that terrified him more than anything else.

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” you asked softly, stepping closer to him despite the warning in his voice.

He nodded, still facing away from you. “I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t trust myself right now.”

You could hear the pain in his voice, the guilt. He was trying to protect you from himself, but in doing so, he was shutting you out. You didn’t want that. You didn’t want him to face this alone.

Tentatively, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his back. He flinched at the touch, but he didn’t move away. Encouraged by the fact that he hadn’t pushed you aside, you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

“I trust you,” you whispered against his back. “I know you won’t hurt me, San.”

His body trembled slightly under your touch, and for a moment, he seemed to struggle with himself, as if battling between the need to protect you and the overwhelming desire that was consuming him. Slowly, he turned around in your arms, his dark, intense eyes locking with yours. “I’m not sure if I can control myself,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

You reached up, cupping his face gently in your hands. His skin was warm, almost burning under your touch. “I trust you,” you repeated softly, looking into his eyes. “I’m not afraid of you.”

San let out a shaky breath, his hands coming up to grip your arms, as if grounding himself in your presence. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours. His breath was hot and uneven against your lips, and you could feel the restraint in every muscle of his body.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice a desperate whisper.

Before you could say anything more, his lips were on yours, the kiss deep and intense, as if he were pouring all of his pent-up emotions into it. It was raw, needy, but there was still tenderness in the way his hands cradled your face, as if even now, he was holding back for your sake.

You kissed him back, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer. The tension between you melted away as the kiss deepened, your bodies pressing together in a way that felt both familiar and new. His hands moved down to your waist, pulling you flush against him, but even in the heat of the moment, you could feel him trying to be gentle, trying to keep himself in check.

The kiss lingered, slow and passionate, until finally, San pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours again. His breathing was heavy, his eyes dark with unspoken emotions, but the storm inside him seemed to have calmed, at least for now.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice soft but full of gratitude.

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing through his hair. “I told you. I’m not afraid of you.”

San’s breath was ragged, his forehead still pressed to your shoulder as he fought to control the storm raging inside him. You felt his hands tremble against your waist, his claws teasing the edge of his control but never quite emerging. His body was all heat and tension, his breath coming faster now, more uneven.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he let his hands drift down your sides, fingers brushing along the fabric of your clothes. He gripped the hem of your shirt, his touch delicate, as if the very act of undressing you would shatter whatever fragile restraint he had left. His fingers dug into the fabric for a moment, and you felt the tension in him snap for just a second. He exhaled sharply, as if trying to talk himself out of it.

“I... I can’t,” San muttered, though his actions betrayed his words. His voice was low, raw, filled with a desperation that echoed his struggle. His hands, though trembling, began lifting your shirt, slowly revealing the skin beneath. His breath hitched at the sight, and you could feel his body tensing as his instincts warred with his will. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispered, his voice thick with need, but his hands didn’t stop.

He pulled the fabric over your head with a swift motion, his touch growing bolder now, more confident. You watched as his eyes darkened further, the wolf in him creeping closer to the surface. His fingers grazed your bare skin, tracing the lines of your collarbone, down your arms, and across your waist with reverence. Every touch was electric, sending shivers through your body as he explored every inch of exposed skin.

“You’re making this so hard for me,” San growled, his voice deep and unsteady. His hands moved lower, fingers ghosting over the waistband of your pants, lingering there for a moment as he struggled to hold back. He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenched tight. “I should stop. I should walk away.”

But neither of you moved.

Instead, he tugged at the waistband, pulling your pants down in one rough motion, the fabric slipping from your body effortlessly. His breath caught in his throat, and he took a step back, looking at you as though you were something both sacred and dangerous. His hands reached out, but they hesitated, hovering just inches from your skin, the restraint in his body trembling like a wire about to snap.

“You don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “You don’t know what it’s like... to want something so badly but know you can’t... you *shouldn’t*...” His eyes traveled over you, wild and full of conflict, as his fingers finally found your skin again. His touch was slow, lingering, as though he was trying to savor the feel of you beneath his hands before he lost all control.

His hands were everywhere at once—tracing the line of your spine, sweeping across your waist, exploring the curve of your hip, and back up to your chest. His palms were rough but gentle, his fingers trembling as they brushed your bare skin with reverence, as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded. His breath was hot against your neck as he leaned in, his chest pressed against yours, and you could feel every rise and fall of his breathing, erratic and wild.

“I’m losing it,” he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. His forehead pressed against your collarbone, his lips brushing there, as if he couldn’t stop himself from kissing you. “I’m trying to hold back, but... I can’t, I can’t.” His words were almost a growl now, deep and rough as his hands gripped you tighter, his claws just barely grazing your skin.

You shivered as his lips traveled down the side of your neck, hot and desperate, his breath shaky as he fought to keep himself from slipping completely. His hands slid up your back, fingers tracing the lines of your body with such intensity that it felt as though he was memorizing every detail.

“I need to feel you,” he rasped, his voice filled with raw desire. His touch became more urgent, his hands pressing harder against your skin, his lips moving faster, more erratically. The restraint in him was slipping, unraveling with each passing second. His hands found your shoulders, then your back, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand the distance between you any longer.

He let out a low growl, his breath coming fast and ragged now. “I’m losing control,” he muttered through clenched teeth, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes were wild, dark with unrestrained emotion, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way he trembled against you.

And then, with a sharp inhale, something broke in him.

San’s hands gripped your waist with a sudden fierceness, pulling you tightly against him, his body pressing into yours with a desperate, wild energy. His mouth found yours again, the kiss deep and consuming, his restraint shattered completely. His hands roamed your body, no longer holding back, no longer gentle. He was wild, untamed, and you were swept up in the force of it, your body responding to his every touch as though you were made for this moment.

He growled against your lips, his breath hot and uneven. "I can't stop," he murmured between kisses, his voice rough with need. His hands gripped you tighter, as if the sensation of your skin beneath his fingers was the only thing keeping him from losing himself completely. "I can't hold back anymore."

And he didn’t.

--

San pushed you to the wall behind you, one hand behind your head to not hit it to the hard material. He leaned in for a kiss, his teeth grazing against your lower lip, biting it from time to time. He made it bleed, going even more insane about the taste of your lips.

"P-please... don't hold back" you said, barely above a whisper. He took your words seriously and put your hands above your head with his right hand, while his left hand took your panties off, threw them away and flew right back to your thighs. His sharp nails dug into your flesh, leaving soft, red marks all over.

"P-please forgive me.. if you get hurt by me." San said and moved his hand between your thighs, impatiently and softly hovering his fingers around, looking in your eyes. He was asking for permission. You moved yourself above his fingers and slowly let yourself down on his then, quietly moaning at his fingers finally inside you. His hands were huge, being a werewolf... even two of his fingers were stretching you the fuck out, tears forming in your eyes.

"San, voice low, almost a growl, "You have no damn idea how hard it's been to hold back, don't you?"

"San.." you breathed out, his fingers pumping in and out of you mercilessly.

San’s eyes flash with wild intensity. In an instant, his lips crash against yours, a rough, hungry kiss that leaves you breathless, tongues finding it's way and tasting every corner of your mouth.

Breaking the kiss, his breath hot against your neck, "You’re driving me insane... every part of me just wants to take you, make you mine in ways you can’t even imagine." He stopped finger-fucking you for a moment, breath hitched and your legs already trembling.

"I want all of you.. need to feel you, taste you.." he breathed out in an almost-primal tone, like you were his prey and you were his to go after.

"San, please.." you pleaded out, back softly arching against the wall, in search of any friction between your cunt and his fingers that were still resting.

"I see that you're... asking for my touch, hm?" San whined, in an almost desperate tone, basically exposing himself through his words. He was the one that wanted, needed you so bad.

"Y-yes.."

In an instant, he raised your leg up, placing it onto his hip. "I’m out of my mind with how much I need you. You'll take me right here—no hesitation, no waiting." he said as he raised your leg a bit, left your hands alone and fully thrusted in you, lubed up from your own arousal. He was fucking you against the wall, your hands reaching for his shoulder, holding on for dear life. Your legs were trembling, his long and girthy cock stretching you good as it always did.

"Fuck.. you feel so good.." he said as he rammed into you wildly, touching every sweet spot of yours, the friction overwhelming you. His lips went wandering around, marking you everywhere. He left kisses and bites all over your neck and collarbones, tasting your sweet flesh.

"Yes babe.. get it all out-" you muffled, but his lips found their way to yours, engaging in a rough, sloppy and messy kiss.

His nails dug into your flesh, his primal-like behavior sending you over the edge. Your back arched against the wall, San's hand finding it's way to the back of your neck. He held you close and still, as he thrusted in you a few times and came undone, filling you up to the brim. As you felt yourself get filled by his load, he fucked you through his high and his hand found it's way to your clit, rubbing circles all around. You squirmed a few times, overstimulation surging over you and the knot in your belly became undone, soft cries and moans leaving out of your slowly rising chest.

"You feel so good.. I don't know how I've waited until now. Every second without you is torture..." he said and embraced you, his cock still inches deep inside you. He lifted you up and dropped you on the dinner table you had in the living room, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

His breath was hot against your neck as he whispered, "I can't get enough of you," his lips grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling you closer as if the space between you was unbearable. The table beneath you creaked under the weight of your bodies, the edge pressing into your back as he leaned down, kissing you deeply, hungrily, with an urgency that made your heart race.

Your legs tightened around him, your heels digging into his lower back, urging him deeper. He let out a low, guttural sound of pleasure as he thrust into you, slow but deliberate, each movement intensifying the ache inside you. His fingers trailed up your sides, all the way up to your bare skin, fondling with your breasts, holding onto them.

With a wicked smile, he bit his lip, his eyes dark with desire as he watched the way your body responded to him. The rhythm of his hips became more insistent, and the friction between you built with every motion. You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pressed his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling, bodies perfectly in sync.

"I want to hear you," he growled softly, his voice deep and raw with need, his hand slipping between your bodies, teasing the spot that made your whole body tremble. Every touch was electric, every sensation overwhelming, as the pressure inside you built to an irresistible peak. You arched your back, surrendering to the intensity, your nails digging into his shoulders as the room around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the heat of your bodies and the undeniable connection between you.

Time seemed to blur as the world outside faded, leaving only the pulse of your heart, the sound of his ragged breaths, and the undeniable fire between you, burning hotter with every second.

His thrusts grew more urgent, deeper, as if he was chasing the same release that had your body trembling in his arms. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the room, his grunts mixing with your breathless moans, the tension between you building to a breaking point. His fingers worked in perfect rhythm with his hips, pushing you closer, closer, until finally, the pleasure surged through you, crashing like a wave. You cried out his name, your body arching against him, tightening around him as the intensity consumed you.

San groaned low in his throat, the sound almost primal as he felt you pulse around him, the sensation driving him over the edge. His hips bucked one last time, deep and powerful, before you felt him cum inside you, his warmth filling you as he let out a broken moan, collapsing against you. His breath was heavy in your ear, his heartbeat racing against your chest as the two of you remained locked together, still trembling from the intensity of it all.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the room filled with the soft sound of your shared breathing. His arms wrapped around you tightly, protectively, as if he couldn’t bear to let go just yet. Gently, he shifted, pulling you into his chest, his lips pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your neck. His touch was tender now, his rough urgency replaced by a deep care, a need to hold you close.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, his voice softer now, full of concern as his fingers brushed through your hair, soothing you.

You nodded, still catching your breath, feeling the warmth of his body enveloping you, grounding you. His hands stroked your back in lazy, comforting circles, his lips never far from your skin. He held you as if you were fragile, like he wanted to protect you from everything, even though minutes ago, the world had disappeared in the heat between you.

San slowly pulled out of you, the absence leaving you feeling both empty and completely fulfilled, as he carefully helped you sit up on the edge of the table. He kissed your lips, slow and sweet, as if he had all the time in the world. Then, without saying a word, he scooped you up into his arms and carried you over to the couch, laying you down gently before settling next to you.

He tugged a soft blanket over your bodies, wrapping his arms around you again, pulling you close. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

"I love you," he whispered softly, his voice barely audible, but the emotion behind it was overwhelming. He kissed your temple, holding you tighter as you both drifted into a peaceful silence, your bodies still entwined, but now surrounded by a warmth that was so much more than just physical.

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