#And then? Then you grow around that pain and keep on going. If you feel like you can't - remember you don't have to do it alone.

[koralcove]

prompt: for 800 years, rafayel has waited for you. and now, it's your turn to get a taste of decades of longing and frustration. but he wouldn't make you wait that long. maybe only for 800 minutes. contains: edging, begging, praising, dumb fucked, rafayel calling you various pet names, oh, and did i already mention the absolutely indescribable blue balling for the both of you?

"a-ah! fayel, please-!"

"ooohhh, miss... i'll treat you so right. so good. you won't want anything else."

the snap of his hips makes your mind delirious, squirming under him, all red-faced and teary-eyed. your body magnets his as he presses himself against you, as if any lick of skin of his won't be satisfied without your full touch.

"rafayel- hah! fayel..." you beg hoarsely at him. your clit aches with every snap of his pelvis against yours, so sensitive, yet also so numb. minutes, hours, time, or even infinity pass by as he continues to pound into your pussy relentlessly. the tight ball in your core never snaps, and he keeps teasing and pistoning into you without any sign of stopping. only when he feels the tightness of your walls going snug around him with your thighs pressed desperately on his waist does he will himself to do so.

"want you so bad. want all of you. need you. need to be in you. fuck- cutie, i don't wanna leave you. need to be in you. forever... haaaaah!" he babbles into your neck, the words caressing hotly in your ear and spinning your mind into a heated and mindless frenzy. rafayel doesn't know how he's still going, doesn't know how he can still stop when your gummy insides hug him so warmly, so invitingly. and yet without fail, he does.

the heat and pressure grow impossibly fast, coming into you like a big tidal wave that's about to wash over you.

"pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease, fayel-"

and then he does it again. cruelly stops just as you're about to reach that heaven that you've been craving for hours. it rips out a sob of frustration out of you, eyes glossed with mourning over the loss of your euphoria. a hand comes to gently take your arm out of your wet face, cooing so softly at you that you think he would've felt sorry for you. and he is. but his cruelty runs as deep as his love in this moment, and he revels in the perfectly pink flush of your skin, wanting to etch that colour into his mind and recreate it into a canvas.

"shhh, shhhshhhshhhshhh. pretty girl, don't cry. don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry. i know it hurts. i know it does, sweet pearl. but you're doing so good. doing so so great. didn't cum yet, just like i said."

he feels your body tremble, walls spasming so deliciously around him that it spills a raw guttural moan out of his pretty pink lips. and his cock aches hard. so hard, that he's doing the best he can to breath evenly. to not fucking come inside you like he knows you deserve, that you want. but you don't now. not yet.

"breath for me, cutie. need you to breath for me." he swipes away the stray strands clinging on your sticky forehead. though he's just as wrecked as you — pupils blown so wide that the flecks of purples are practically swallowed by it, heart racing and reverberating from his chest in rapid breaths, skin glistening with a glossy layer of sweat, and thighs quivering from the exertion of fucking into you for hours while denying himself as well.

somewhere along the throes of the heated moment, rafayel had decided to play along with holding off his own end as well. he's already had his share of his own release, his sticky essence coating your thighs and the insides of your pussy with your juices that his studio was filled with nothing but the lewd noises of your skin slapping and rubbing against one another for hours. and, god, did it hurt. it hurts so good that his abdomen strains with ache from the denial. his cock so fucking swollen inside of you that it almost hurts to even keep on pounding into you with how your velvety walls stimulate him so beautifully into madness. but the pained look of pleasure on your face eggs him, and he has to hide himself into your neck so he wouldn't end up getting off immediately just from your expressions alone.

"been so long... too long. please. wanna cum, rafa. wanna cum so bad, it hurts." you hiccup. your body has been straining for hours, strung up so tight that even just the smallest stir of his cock or the slightest shift of his mons brushing against your clit would send electric shocks through you and probably push you to the edge. and rafayel was very aware of this, fighting to keep still in you, trying so hard to keep his hands away from caressing and groping onto your skin when it practically burns for you. sometimes, it gets so hot that you think that his evol is acting up.

"shh, it's not yet time, lovely. you know how long you still have to wait."

you honestly lost track of time of how much time you still have to endure this hellish circle of your body crescendoing to a high only for you to be pulled down so roughly from it. sniffles rack your body as you taste the saltiness streaming down your face. rafayel kisses it away.

he coos gently at you, whispering soft and reassuring words like one would to a timid shaking animal that needs to be calmed. you retort back with mindless babbles of whines and cries of him being so mean, incoherent words filled with empty bitterness at the situation, of how cruel this test was to you. he only answers with a nuzzle to your neck, pressing light kisses on your neck, catching the salty taste of your skin and desperation. distantly, he thinks that he knows that feeling all too well. the longing and aching, the desperation and desire of having something so close only to be tugged away from your grasp the moment it becomes too good to be true when it nears you... he lives and breaths with that feeling all too well.

the soothing caress of your hair and his frustrating resilience of keeping still in you eventually calms your body. you could only sniffle as you are left powerless from his skilled hands, grounding you from the high that he so deliciously almost took you to, but also pulled away from. your face turns away from him, an image of silent defiance from a petulant child who was denied the toy they wanted. but he takes his time with you with a patience that you didn't know was capable from the bratty man-child that you know.

when the buzz of your body dies down, you only lay in silence now. rafayel's head rests just beneath the beat of your heart, an instrument that soothes his own desires. he absently traces mindless shapes just above your breast, and your eyes take in the gradient hues of the sky. his eyes follow to where your gaze is, and he sighs lightly, breath fanning against your cooled skin.

he sits up slightly, tilting your head to meet his eyes that are only ever full of devotion to you. you can't help but melt from the sight. he's always so expressive yet so unreadable that he becomes a mystery to you at times. but when he looks at you with those eyes, full of fondness and longing that's incomprehensible to you, you can't help but mimic the affection.

he sweeps down for a kiss, tender and sweet, before he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. when he intertwines his hand into yours, you brace yourself for what's to come.

a slow, sensual gyration of his hips, making sure to not overstimulate your poor clit too much, and a few small thrusts test your sensitivity. you can't help the hitched gasp that leaves your mouth, squeezing his hand as his pace is steady. but you know it's only a matter of time before that changes.

your ears pick up his voice, but not the words of his native tongue. but they sound sweet to you, until it eventually changes into breathy gasps and desperate whispers as his hips slap hard against yours. the gentle squeeze of his hand in yours turns into a dull pain as your nails dig into his knuckles, feeling the slow heat of euphoria build into you once more.

your mind reels at the thought of him thrusting into you violently, the squelch of your fluids mingling into the dusk air. he'll take you higher again, body moving with a frenzied fashion that will mush your brain into only thinking of wanting and needing more. and then he'll stop again as you come closer to your peak, kissing your tears away. and then he'll do it again. again and again and again and again, ruining you and building you back up.

you still have 160 minutes left.

[planetpedri]

No surprises 𖦹 Pedri González !

summary. pedri felt drained, his job sucking the life out of him with every loss —but you, his god given solace, was always there to give him a quiet, loving break.

word count. 1.09k

disclaimers. angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, and happy ending.

bea speaks! fcb when i catch you...

The ride home from the stadium was silent. The hum of the engine and the occasional buzz from either of your phones were the only sounds filling the between you and Pedri. He hadn’t spoken a singular word since you’d left, since the realization that, once again, his efforts had not been enough.

You glance at him, his profile illuminated by the passing street lamps. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips pulled into a thin line. He wasn’t hiding his disappointment, his sunken eyes and tight face only showcasing his exhaustion more. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles growing white.

“Pedri..” you say softly, reaching over to rest your hand on his arm.

He flinches at your touch, but doesn’t pull away. “Not now, cariño.” Pedri murmurs, his voice hoarse.

Leaning back against the seat, you chew on your bottom lip. You wanted to say something, anything, to pull him out of this spiral you knew he was going down—but you knew better. Pedri’s silence was his own way of holding himself together, insuring he wouldn’t break the moment he let himself express his hurt.

This wasn’t even the first time you’d seen him like this. Losing wan’t foreign to Barcelona. Not to mention the string of loses this season alone and the endless criticism from the fans and media. He bore the crushing weight of carrying the team that seemed to feel more broken with every match since October. But now, it was wearing him down completely.

When he finally pulled into the driveway of your shared home, Pedri parked, sitting motionless in his seat. He eventually dropped his hands into his lap after shutting off the car, exhaling a shaky breath and your heart broke at the sound.

���Lets go inside.” You urge quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

Silently, Pedri nodded, his movements slow and heavy as he walked beside to you into the house. Once inside, he found the couch, instantly slumping into it and burying his face into his hands.

Eyes softening, you kneel in front of him, prying his hands away. The sight in front of you would’ve made even the strongest man weep. His eyes were glossy, his lashes wet with unshed tears. “Pedri,” you whisper, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, “talk to me, please?”

The dark haired man shook his head, jaw tightening. “What is there to say? Another loss, another fucking failure.”

“You’re not a failure,” you say firmly, eyebrows knitting together.

He lets out a bitter laugh at your words, sending a course of pain through your heart. “Tell that to everyone else. To the fans. To the team, who, by the way, can’t seem to keep it together. Oh, and to the club who expects everything from me.”

Frowning, you cup his face, making him look directly at you. His eyes search yours, desperate and pleading. “You are human, you are allowed to feel this way, but you are not allowed to believe that you are not enough. You are. These loses? They are not on you. They happen, and you can come back from them. You are not the only player on the team, this isn’t your fault.”

He lets out a ragged breath, leaning into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I’m tired.” He admits, his voice breaking. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take. It feels like everything—the team and all, it’s falling apart and I just don’t know how to fix it.”

You are quiet for a second, eyes flickering around his face. He looked dejected, taking all the blame and stuffing it into himself and it is suffocating him.

“You don’t have to fix it alone. You have a team, Pedri. And you also have me. Let me help you carry this, let me be here for you.” Your thumbs graze his cheekbones, like the touch alone could press the words into his brain, forcing him to let it go, and let you in.

Your boyfriends eyes close slowly, a singular tear finally escaping his eyes. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice broken and weary.

Shaking your head, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You deserve everything in the world, baby. And I will always be here to remind you of that.”

For a while, neither of you spoke. His head fell to rest on your shoulder, and you held him like that, hoping the small moment would ground him. And it did, Pedri felt himself calming down. His breaths evened out and his shoulders relaxed.

Inhaling your scent, feeling your soft breaths against him, the way your hand slowly rubbed up and down his back—it made him feel okay for the first time since the loss.

“I scored tonight,” he sighed after the long silence, his voice an octave above a whisper. Despite the achievement, a lingering sense of disappointment was still in his voice.

“I know,” you hum, running your hand up his back to rest on the nape of his neck. “I was a beautiful goal.”

“But it doesn’t matter.”

You could groan.

“Doesn’t matter? It mattered to me.” Your lips form a tight frown. He was so hard on himself. Beating himself up over things that he should be proud of.

“Pedri, you got the man of the match. You were incredible, you always are. You scored a goal and gave your team hope. Sure, you lost. But, you still were amazing and you deserve to feel the pride from it.” Your words felt weak in comparison to how badly you wanted to comfort him, to assure him—but for Pedri, it meant everything.

He looked back to you then, his eyes softening. His heart felt warm, your touch was still warm, you were always the one there for him—comforting him. He loved you for it.

The burdening weight on his chest seemed to finally lift, if only slightly. “Thank you,” he murmured, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from your face. “I love you.”

A smile lifts on your lips and your forehead rests against his. “Of course, and I love you.”

As the night wore on, and you were finally in bed together, you were his grounding point. The weight of your head on his shoulder, your legs tangled in his and your arms wrapped around him, it kept him comforted. In the quiet of the bedroom, you were his solace, always.

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future pedri posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @joaoflms @sakashq @h4vertzz @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to @st4rgirl-ellie @cececarmona17

[simpjaes]

✘ WIP DIARY ── LAST NIGHT, I READ YOUR DIARY. (p.sh) ✘

Sunghoon has been trying be everything you need since your mother passed. A father, a friend, a therapist. You never really understood what your mother saw in him in the first place, if you’re being honest. He’s awkward, quiet, and typically used to keep to himself up until now. You’re impressed with his efforts by the time you’re entering into your senior year of college, though his entire demeanor towards you seems to have changed.  or the one where your step-father grows obsessed with you minute by minute. 

── step-dad /weirdo park sunghoon x afab reader  

── minors dni

── tags: sunghoon is in his 30s, reader is in her 20s so, age gap, step-cest, heartbreak, obsession, manipulation, coercion, stockholm syndom-ish, fluff if he manipulates you as a reader lmfao, angst, smut. don't read this if you are easily triggered. ── side characters: heeseung as reader's ex boyfriend, jay as reader's closest friend

── !WARNINGS!: this work contains non-con, dub-con, and stalking behavior. your mom isn’t alive in this fic. warnings will be updated as i write.

── a/n: this one is gonna be a wild ride, that's all i gotta say.

LAST UPDATED: 12.22.24

⨯ est wordcount: 20k+ ⨯ current wordcount: 5.4k ⨯ est release date: tbd ⨯ taglist: ask to be on my perma tag list!

playlist ⨯ recommended song: last night i read your diary - gürl She's got me down on my knees I beg, I beg, I, I beg, I beg, please! I want it more than I need And I need it like I need to breathe Like I'm losing my- Choke.

PREVIEW (3.1k):

no warnings apply to the preview, it's just the first couple of thousand words for this fic. aka, the intro and the set up for what will inevitably happen later:

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Your first heartbreak is meant to be painful, but this? This is more painful than you could have ever imagined. 

Heeseung was one of your only constants in life. From childhood to high school it’s like he was there more than your own mother was, and certainly more than your own father. Even when she passed, Heeseung was the one who held you through it, he’s the one who made you smile again, he’s the one who made you feel like it was okay to heal and keep going. 

It’s the fact that it was a mutual break up that hurts the most because deep down, you couldn’t see yourself without him. Yet, still, you willingly watched him hop on the plane with a short kiss and long goodbye. It felt so final to you. You could have handled a long distance relationship, truly. But Heeseung didn’t want that. He wanted to explore the world, he wanted to try new things, be with new people. 

Do things without you clinging to him all the time. 

In a way, you understand that. After all, you’re the only girl he had ever been with up until now. Senior year of college. You think you knew your relationship was coming to an end by the time he announced he was going to be studying abroad for his final year without ever once even telling you he was applying to do so. 

So, yeah, it was mutual solely because you want him to be happy and he’s made it clear that he believes that can only happen without you. Such is life. Painful, painful fucking life.  

Just last year when your mother passed, you nearly dropped out and Heeseung had been your rock to make it through class after class with a grade barely high enough to pass. You’re certain some of your professors took pity on you and raised your grade just enough to move forward. You’ll forever thank them for recognizing how hard you were trying. But now? Without your mother, without Heeseung, you’re at a loss.

And there’s a difference between loneliness and isolation, you think. Loneliness to you always hits hard during small spaces in your day, like when you’d get into Heeseung’s car and he would close your door for you. The silence always hurt your ears while he was still making his way around the car to the driver’s seat. A shallow loneliness that you could feel right at the top of your gut, like it was squeezing inside of you and making you lose your appetite. Solely because that silence reminded you of what you always had, a lack of loneliness because of him.

But then there’s isolation. Where it feels forced upon you by other people. Your mother fucking died, Heeseung fucking left, and now you’re just here expected to wake up like you always do, go to class, study hard, sleep well, when the reality of it is– you’re genuinely struggling just to look at yourself in the mirror. 

Then there’s Sunghoon. The only person close enough to you now that you can reach out to. The issue with that is– you’ve never actually been close. And that’s what sucks. The fact that he of all people is all you have now? May as well just assume you have nobody.

His regular calls mean close to nothing to you in the grand scheme of things. Despite him calling twice a week every week since your mother died, your step-father is just as distanced from you as you are him. You’re aware that it’s his obligation, not because he cares. And that hurts, because it’s all you have now. 

Now, you have to try and find meaning in those short calls. After all, Sunghoon fell apart when your mother passed all on his own and you had only called him out of obligation too. You were already in college and stressed, falling apart yourself with someone to love beside you helping you through it. Calling him when it all happened felt empty because you knew both of you were trying to hold it together and save face. 

It wasn’t like this before she died. In fact, he never called and you never cared for him to. You’d see each other when you were home, share awkward pleasantries, and that’s it. It’s hard to believe that now you feel like you need a father, after all those years of practically rejecting him as one. He seemed fine with that after you hit your teen years. He knew by then that he could never be the father you want, but at least he could be the husband your mother needed.

You have grief in common now though. Loneliness. Isolation.

You try not to think about how you were okay up until now though. Having Heeseung to fall back on to soften the blow of your loss, you guess Sunghoon didn’t have that. Maybe his monotone voice and empty words were his way of coping, his way of hearing a voice that wasn’t the one in his own head when he calls you. 

It’s just you and a man you never considered family past the titles and obligatory respects. Finding meaning in his short phone calls does nothing to help your growing isolation, but you cling to them now that Heeseung is gone. You wait for the calls, you ask him to check in with you every day now, to the point Sunghoon starts to notice the difference in you.

No longer rushing to get off the phone. Now, you’re dragging on meaningless conversations. Now, he hears cracks in your voice. 

“You feeling okay?” Sunghoon asks you, in a way that makes you wonder how he’s able to tell that you’re definitely not. The way his own voice has a bit of life to it when he asks it…strange too. Like he’s concerned. 

“No–” You trail off in your meek voice, staring at your ceiling and mind swirling with all of the work you need to get done for classes already. “I’ve only been in classes for a week and I already feel like I’m drowning.” 

Sunghoon sighs into the speaker, contemplating how to further the conversation with you in a way that isn’t too intrusive. After all, who is he to pry? Still, he never intended for you to feel neglected or like you couldn’t come to him. After all, you were too happy about his lack of parenting you throughout his presence in your life. 

He finds solace in the fact that you’ve been accepting him now, though he hasn’t the slightest idea as to why. He’s checked in with you since the passing, but lately it feels to him like something more is going on with you. He may be somewhat estranged, and he may have his own problems to deal with, but you’re still someone he needs to be here for.

Plus, it makes him feel needed again, which is nice considering the circumstances. After living in this bustling house with you and your mom for so long, to it just being him and your mom, to now just him…all that remains now is dread, dissociation, and unwashed dishes in the sink.

“Did something happen?” Sunghoon keeps his questions short, offering more silence if anything for you to use this call as a therapy session if you need. 

You pause for a long moment, realizing that you want to talk about your issues so badly but don’t quite feel the need to share it with him of all people. You’ve already ranted day after day to Jay. To the point you’re sure he’s about one rant away from blocking your number. 

Probably because you’re not that close to him either. Not these days, anyway.

You sigh instead. 

“No…” You trail off. “I think I just miss being home. My dorm mate is never here, class work is already piling up, and I can’t even find the energy to look at the assignments.” 

Sunghoon can tell you’re feeling much like he does and he can’t imagine the weight on your shoulders dealing with these feelings while also in college. But, you have Heeseung, do you not? You’ve been fine for the most part until now, and you haven’t even brought him up. Not once in the past few weeks has his name been uttered by you. Which is strange, after all, the two of you were practically attached at the hip growing up, to the point of choosing the same college, working the same jobs, and even keeping that middle-school puppy love in full swing throughout highschool and college. 

If anything, after your mother passed, Sunghoon felt okay knowing you had Heeseung there with you to help you through it. It meant he could focus on himself and getting through the day-to-day. He could barely handle his own mournful thoughts, let alone the daughter’s feelings of the woman he loved so dearly. He was forever grateful for Heeseung during this time. 

He has his suspicions now though, and his heart aches for the voice he hears from you these days. 

“Why don’t you come home for a while?” He lends a pause to see if you’ll jump for the opportunity before selling the idea to you. “I have the bills here covered and your campus is only a forty minute drive. I’m sure that’s inconvenient but you won’t have bills to worry about on top of everything else.” He doesn’t want to sound too desperate, of course. 

After all, the loneliness he’s feeling is also becoming unbearable. Even if the two of you never were able to see eye to eye, or to form a bond together, you’re all he has left of your mother. He, arguably, is nothing to you, but there’s no one else in this world he’d rather heal the loneliness with outside of you. Only because you knew your mother on a level deeper than he did, and to have someone to share those memories with, or even laugh with, would help him tremendously too.

“I think being at home may do you some good.” 

You think it over in your head, wondering if being home will help you at all. In reality, you know it may make you feel more trapped than you do now. All those memories with your mother, with Heeseung, with all of your friends that have since moved to different colleges. 

But…you wouldn’t be alone. You’d be with someone who knows how to give you space because he’s never even tried to shrink your existence to that of your bedroom and your bedroom alone. You wouldn’t have to worry about rent, food, or anything aside from studies, gas money, and trying to heal from your heartbreak. 

Your dorm is small, you note as you look around the room and wonder how long it would take you to pack your things up. Two hours, give or take. The longest part would be taking all of the little decorations off the wall, if you’re being honest. 

You find yourself nodding before answering, solidifying in your mind that– maybe you’re not the only one who needs company in your space. Not too close, but close enough to not be totally isolated. 

“Okay.” You mutter into the phone, for some reason feeling the tears well up behind your eyes. 

You’re just a bit overwhelmed, that’s all. Knowing you’re going home feels like a relief you didn’t know you needed. 

“Yeah?” Sunghoon confirms. “Just let me know when and I’ll drive up there to help get your stuff back home.” 

You agree, sighing into the phone with a shaking voice. Sunghoon takes note of it, always remembering and quite frankly missing how loud and obnoxious you used to be. Hearing you like this pains him. He wants to help. Now more than ever is his chance to be someone you need, and he hates knowing he feels happy about it. 

Getting to be your father now? It feels awkward, but at least it’s a feeling other than loss. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Sunghoon sighs at you through the speaker. “I know I’m not someone you like coming to but–well, I’d like for you to rely on me more, okay?” 

You find a lot of comfort in those words, despite hearing him say them time and time again. This is the first time he’s ever shown that he means it through the offer of bringing you home, rather than just saying it and accepting whatever you say back to him at face value. 

“I know…” You trail off. “I’m okay though, really.” 

Sunghoon hates himself for never forcing you to accept him. Sure, there may have been some teenage defiance towards him, but eventually the two of you could have seen eye to eye. He could have been someone you needed. You could have relied on him too, rather than just Heeseung. That’s all he can really think right now. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing else going on?” The man nearly pleads in his tone, desperate to have someone rely on him again. “I’ve never heard you sound so exhausted before, I can’t help but worry.”

You’d tell him, but honestly, what grown ass man wants to hear about a first heartbreak? It would just get awkward again, he’d just feel obligated to do something about it, and worse, he might end up feeling like he’s supposed to dislike Heeseung now. 

You choose to remain silent in the final straw that broke your back this semester. 

“Really, I’m just tired.” You nod to yourself as you hold your phone loosely against your ear. “I might not go to class tomorrow and just pack instead. I’ll just call you when I’m ready, is that okay?”

Sunghoon smiles to himself, wanting to mean something to you in a way that can hopefully help you out of this slump. Your mother would be throwing a fit if she heard how you’ve been sounding, he can’t help but take over that role and try to make damn sure you are okay. 

“That’s fine,” Sunghoon confirms. “I’ll call and let them know what’s going on so don’t worry about any of that. Just get yourself ready to come back home.” 

You find yourself smiling, relieved that you don’t have to be the one to contact your school and tell them that…well, you’re breaking your student-lease, dropping your food plan, and need to be reimbursed for partial tuition costs since Sunghoon insists every semester that you purchase tuition insurance. You should no longer be charged to live on campus, or for the facilities within the dorm. 

Knowing you’ll at least get back a couple thousand dollars is a nice change of pace, and already you’re feeling weirdly excited to go back to a space that will likely make you miss your mother more. It’ll hurt, but at least you won’t be alone anymore. 

The forty minute drive to campus feels less horrifying now, and maybe your friends will still come and hang out with you in your actual home rather than a tiny dorm. 

“Sounds good.” You say, as if to end the call before you mutter out again. “Thank you, by the way. Sunghoon, really.” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon knew he was spiraling further and further into his loneliness. He knew it wasn’t healthy either, but now. Oh, now he realizes just how bad it’s gotten as he demonizes himself upon picking you up. 

You haven’t come home since your mother’s funeral, and even on that day he barely remembers what you looked like. Eye contact was never a thing for him, but looking at you now, he sees how much you’ve matured since you went off to college. 

Your once bright, excited eyes have turned dull and empty. The bags under them are heavy from lack of sleep. Your lips appear to be in a permanent state of pouting, though he isn’t sure if you’ve noticed. You appear to have lost weight, which is concerning for him of course, but…there’s something else about you.

Something that sits in the pit of his stomach and rots.

“Uh–” You cough, noting the way Sunghoon looks at you as you try to hand him a large box. “Thank you for helping me move my stuff back…” 

Sunghoon snaps out of his thoughts, grabbing a heavy box and then waiting for you to stack another on top. 

“No big deal,” He mutters, feeling the weight in his hands double as he prepares to carefully carry your things out to his car. “You haven’t come home in over a year, but I’ve fixed up your room for you and went ahead and connected my gaming system in there.”

You nod quietly, feeling awkward for how fatherly he seems.

“Thanks…” You trail off, flopping a pile of your things into his trunk before stopping to look at him. “You look like shit.”

Sunghoon furrows his brows, noticing for a split second how that facial expression you made is very similar to one his wife used to throw at him when he’d have hair out of place, or a wardrobe malfunction. And then he smiles. 

“You’re not looking too good yourself.” He jokes back.

You smile back at him, feeling a bit of the awkward air fizzle away. 

“Well, I’m not doing well, so.” 

You were continuing the joke, but his face falls before yours does. 

“You can talk to me–” He starts.

“I know, I know.” You wave him off. “I’ll feel a lot better once we get back and I can settle in.

There’s a nod from him now, and then silence as the two of you continue to put the rest of your belongings into both his car and your own. 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in a bit?” You say now, awkwardly.

Sunghoon nods, looking you over once again.

“See you in a bit.” 

   ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Shame.

Pure fucking shame. 

Sunghoon knew he needed another presence in this house but upon seeing you again, he knew it may have been a mistake. 

He likes to think of himself as level headed. He’s never gotten into any trouble, never had a stray thought, never cheated, lied, or stole anything. He can’t think of a single thing that he’s done in life to be considered taboo.  But looking at you feels…incorrect?

Indecent? 

You’re his step-daughter for fuck sake but it’s the fact that you don’t feel like you are. When he looks at you, he just sees another person. He did this to help you, he did this to feel needed, to be your fucking father. 

He did not do this to look at you this way or to feel his eye stray even without his intention.

Why do you look so much like her? Why do you do that thing with your pinky when you carry things like she did? You even have a similar smell, probably having picked up on your mother’s habits throughout childhood. 

You being here…It’s like she’s still here. Except it’s you, and he can’t be thinking this way. 

 ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

This fic will be dark, very taboo, morally bad. Not a grey area, it is blatantly bad. sunghoon will do bad things. Please be aware of your own triggers once it's completed and posted. remember that I write within my own triggers, not yours. That being said! Please do show lots of love if this is a fic you're interested in reading! If you want to be tagged, I have a permanent tag list, there are not any separate tag lists for individual fics so keep that in mind.  ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

THIRD TRIMESTER

Word Count: 1.1K

Pairing(s): Reader x Rafe 

Warnings: Stress and anxiety during pregnancy

Summary: Rafe defends you, pregnancy stress causes emotional pain

The third trimester had come faster than you anticipated, and with it came a series of emotions, both overwhelming and beautiful. You were now heavily pregnant, your body changing in ways that made you feel like you were barely holding onto yourself, but all the while, Rafe was there, supporting you through every step. The two of you had recently moved into a new house, a small but cozy place where you could begin your life together as a family. It was everything you’d dreamed of—well, almost everything.

-

There was still the issue of Rafe’s father, who hadn’t made it easy on you. From the moment you found out you were pregnant, he’d been openly critical of your decision to start a family so young.

“I don’t know why you’d want to keep the baby. You’re barely out of high school,” his voice echoed in your mind as you sat on the couch in your new home, wrapping your arms around your belly. “And you think you’re ready to raise a child? Wait until you see what comes out of her, Rafe. She won’t even look the same, and it’s not like she’ll go back to being skinny after all that. You really want to deal with that?”

You could still feel the sting of his words, even now. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something hurtful about your pregnancy, but it always hit hard. Rafe had defended you every time, but it never seemed to be enough to quiet the doubts you had. His dad’s comments made you second-guess everything, even your own self-worth, even when you knew deep down it wasn’t true.

Rafe had been there, as always, but that didn’t stop the growing anxiety within you. Every time his father would make a comment, it would take everything inside you not to cry or snap back. But today, something inside you broke. You had been unpacking boxes when you overheard another comment from Rafe’s dad, and it sent you spiraling. You knew Rafe wasn’t home, so you found yourself collapsing on the couch in tears, holding your belly as your emotions threatened to take over.

Just as the pain of the words sank deeper, the door to the living room opened, and Rafe stepped in, looking concerned. His eyes softened as soon as he saw your face, tears streaking down your cheeks, your hands clutching your stomach in distress.

“Baby?” he whispered, kneeling down in front of you. “What happened?”

Through shaky breaths, you tried to explain. “I just... I just can’t take it anymore. He keeps saying I’m too young, and it’s like he doesn’t believe I can do this. He’s always saying that things are going to change after labor, that you won’t even look at me the same way... I feel like I’m not good enough for this baby.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched with anger, but his face softened as he gently cupped your face in his hands. “Listen to me, okay? You are everything I could ever need. You’re the mother of my child, and nothing—nothing—will change that. Not the way you look, not what happens after labor. You could go through the toughest thing in the world, and I would still love you with everything I have. Don’t let him get in your head.”

You looked into Rafe’s eyes, your heart aching at his words, but the anxiety and emotional turmoil didn’t subside. You couldn’t stop crying. You wanted to be strong, but everything just felt so heavy. The emotional strain was overwhelming, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get a grip on yourself.

Rafe’s protective instincts kicked in. His voice was steady but urgent as he pulled you into a tight embrace, rubbing your back soothingly. “It’s okay, baby. Take a few deep breaths. We’re okay. I’m here. The baby’s okay.”

But as you tried to steady your breathing, it felt impossible. You couldn’t calm down. The tears kept coming, and your chest tightened painfully. The stress had taken its toll, and you could feel it radiating through your body. Your heartbeat was erratic, and your baby seemed to be reacting too. The panic only deepened.

“I can’t breathe,” you gasped, clutching your chest, the pain intensifying. You were hyperventilating, tears streaming down your face. “Rafe, it hurts. I don’t know what to do.”

Rafe’s eyes widened in fear as he frantically grabbed his phone. “I’m calling an ambulance. It’s going to be okay, just stay with me.”

Within minutes, the paramedics arrived and rushed into the house. They assessed the situation quickly, asking questions and checking on both you and the baby. Rafe was by your side the whole time, holding your hand tightly, his face pale with worry.

Once you were in the ambulance, the pain started to subside, but your body still felt weak and shaky. The journey to the hospital felt long and suffocating, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep fear of what might be happening to you and the baby.

At the hospital, the doctors quickly ran tests, checking the baby’s heartbeat and your vitals. They explained that what you were experiencing was likely a panic attack, brought on by stress and the emotional pressure you had been under. It wasn’t something to be alarmed about, but they strongly advised you to stay calm in the coming weeks to prevent any further stress on the baby.

“You need to take care of yourself, both physically and emotionally,” the doctor said gently. “The next few weeks are crucial for both you and the baby. Stress can affect your health and the baby’s development. You need to avoid any situations that could increase that anxiety.”

Rafe was at your side, holding your hand tightly as the doctor finished speaking. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll make sure she’s calm. I’ll keep her safe.”

You felt the sincerity in his voice, and although you still felt a little shaken, hearing him promise to be there for you made everything feel a bit more manageable.

As you were discharged and brought back to your new home, Rafe stayed close, making sure to comfort you and help you get settled back on the couch. He insisted that you rest, assuring you that everything would be okay. You couldn’t help but smile faintly at his care, feeling more grateful than ever that he was by your side.

“Don’t worry about anything else, baby,” Rafe said softly as he kissed the top of your head. “We’re in this together. I won’t let anything happen to you or our little one.”

[tori111777]

FRIGHT AND FURY 8

Part 8, Part 9

Summary: A dagger lays before you (ifykyk)

Warnings: Blood, Violence, Spoilers, all that

Parings: Caracalla x wife!reader

“You did this!” You ran right up to the Emperor Geta and yelled in his face. It was a bold move of you considering the circumstances of the moment.

It was far past when the sun had set over Rome and the mob outside of the palace was growing more anxious every second as their beloved hero, the general was killed.

Around him, the guards stiffened, hands tightening around their weapons, but Geta made no move to signal them. He merely regarded you with a detached amusement, as if your fury was an amusing distraction from the chaos outside.

“There was nothing else to do. He and his bitch were plotting to kill us. If I’d let him live-“ He was cut off by his brother. “Don’t you hear them? They’re calling for our heads!”

Macrinus tried to poor some wine and offered it to Geta. But you weren’t having any of it tonight. “Go.” You snapped at him as, feeling like your father in that moment, he nodded and left. “Who brought this on us? Who?!” Your husband was begging for answers that you knew he had the answer to.

“Calm yourself, brother. The Praetorians will put down this crowd like they have every other-“ No one was able to get their words in this conversation as Dondus started to squeal restlessly on Caracallas shoulder. “Keep the ape still!” Geta yelled, angrier than ever.

Caracalla flinched, “Beware how you speak of Dondus!” The two brothers were arguing once more, it was nothing new and you have seen it a million times before. It also wasn’t helping that your husband sickness was getting worse. “Come.” You grabbed his hand and let him get up from the couch. “Let your brother calm down.”

You led your husband away from the tense confrontation, your grip firm on his hand as you guided him to a quieter corner of the room. His face was flushed with anger and exhaustion, the sickness that had plagued him worsening with each passing day. "I understand your anger, but fighting with Geta... it only makes things worse."

Caracalla’s eyes flickered with a mixture of fury and helplessness. "You think I don’t know that?" His voice was hoarse. "But he’s always undermining me. You saw how he spoke to me just now. He thinks I'm weak. The people think I’m weak. And the Praetorians—"

"They are loyal to the throne, not to just your brother," you interrupted gently, cutting off the spiral of doubt before it could take hold. "People have always seen Geta as the better brother," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper now. "The people love him. They always have."

“You are the emperor.” You reminded him.

Dondus was restless on his shoulder. “Nothing was ever mine. Everything was ‘ours’ always. Even in the womb, he gripped the umbilicus in his tiny fist to try to deprive me of air.” He spoke. You gave him a confused look, “and you remembered that?”

“Certainly, one cannot forget.” He said. The childhood rivalry that had shaped their relationship was no secret to you, but hearing it from Caracalla’s lips… “Do you think he still wants to take everything from you?” you asked softly, your thumb gently tracing the back of his hand, as if to anchor him to the present.

“He already has.” Caracalla replied. The bitterness in Caracalla’s voice hung heavy in the air, a silent accusation that was both painful and true. You knew the weight of his words, the torment that had been building up in him for years.

You felt the heat of his anger radiating off him, but also the helplessness that always followed such intensity. It’s almost as his feelings transferred to you. Angry and helplessness. “Caracalla,” you murmured softly, your thumb still tracing the back of his hand in an attempt to soothe him, "you are the emperor. You are the one who holds Rome’s future in your hands. Geta cannot take that from you."

“We had a future but you had to ruin it!” You can always see when the sickness increases within his mind. His eyes started to get somewhat cloudy and you tried your best to not take it to heart but you did, you always did. Dondus had now leaped away from his shoulder and onto the table carefully, avoiding the vases and dagger to pick at more nuts.

You move your hand from his and held his face. “We can always try again.” You tried the best you could to keep it together. He leaned into your hands, seeking something that felt like comfort amidst the chaos in his mind. "I’m not like Geta," he muttered after a long pause, a deep sadness creeping into his voice. "He’s... he’s everything the people want. Everything I’m not."

You shook your head slowly, your fingers brushing through his hair as you gently coaxed him to face you again. Your eyes shifted over to the table Dondus was at now that she started to make a fuss, she could also sense the shift in the air. You felt the cold wind on your hands as Caracalla pulled away and picked up the monkey.

“I never asked for this,” he whispered, almost to himself, but you heard it nonetheless. The vulnerability in his voice struck a chord within you. Together, you stood in the silence, the room filled with nothing but the sound of Dondus softly chattering, and the quiet assurance that, for the moment, the storm inside Caracalla had calmed, even if just a little.

He left without saying a word, leaving you standing there alone in the night. Your eyes lingered on his figured until he was out of sight. The noise from the mob outside, eventually stopped and everything was so very still.

You started to think and wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling a chill. Thinking of your wedding day, a couple months ago, even Lucilla’s words, and Geta.

He always seemed to be the problem. Every time you had to deal with Caracalla’s sickness the main point was always Geta. Your eyes flickered to the dagger on the table.

You looked back at the floor,

and back to the table.

“Is this dagger which I see before me…” You mumbled to yourself and trailed off into your thoughts. The dagger on the table gleamed in the dim light. It seemed to glow with the light of Rome itself. The Roman dream.

You walked slowly, your heart beating a little faster as your hand hovered over it.

Pulling back as you heard a bell go off, back to reality. Looking around the room, you were the only one there. Slowly looking back to the dagger as you turned your head. “Will this bring me to Olympus itself?”

Quick to grab the glistening metal. “Or Tartarus?” Whispering in the moonlight.

You moved back hastily ingot the other room before, where you saw Geta staring out the window behind the curtains. Geta turned at the sound of your footsteps, his gaze flicking quickly from the window to you. You had the dagger close to your side but it was dark enough and you knew he could not see it.

Geta’s eyes were fixed on you, but his expression was unreadable—cold, calculating, as always. “Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice smooth but laced with suspicion. He knew you far too well, even in the dim light, and there was no hiding your unease. He could sense it.

Nor did you think about what would happen next. Within a second your hand was about to come down on his face when Geta caught your hand. “You’ve gone too far!” He cried out. "How many times do I have to watch him suffer... while you sit back and wait for him to fail?" Not caring for what he was saying.

“Are you mad?” Geta’s eyes were wide with fear. Nothing could touch you in this moment though. “You’ve both been lost for so long. Can’t you see that? You are just like him and you hate it! Cursed twins flames. You are the wander of this place!”

You acted on the force and drove the dagger up instead of down, it cut him right over his face and he clutched his face. His words were laced with both fury and desperation. “You bitch!” He yelled and stumbled back. He was bleeding all over, going down his clothes and onto the floor. The room seemed to freeze around you, your breath quick and shallow, heart pounding in your chest.

You didn’t think twice and bent down to plunged the knife into his throat, his blood spraying all over you. The anger that had built up in you over the weeks, the months of watching this family torn apart by rivalry, by sickness, by betrayal, it drowned out everything else.

You had always known it would come to this and then it was done.

You sat there for a second. You thought you might start crying or feel some remorse but yet you didn’t. The cold marble floor felt warm as the blood soaked around you as well.

Standing up and looking at the mess you made. You blinked and turned away. For it did not bother to care you, after all you are just like your father.

You stepped away from Geta’s body, moving past the bloodstained floor and into the adjoining room. The cold air that greeted you was a stark contrast to the heat that still simmered beneath your skin. You closed the door behind you, the soft click of the lock the only sound breaking the stillness.

You thought for a minute to go to Lucilla’s room like how you always did. But you couldn’t do that now, could you? She is not your friend and certainly not your mother. Instead you headed to bed like a lost wander in the night.

Not even the god and goddess of Mars and Venus, intertwined could save you now.

[dayz-ina-daze]

I’ve been thinking more about this again….

More leader-specific stuff:

Oakstar. Frecklewish and Birchface could have been his children still, but in secret; ThunderClan only saw Oakstar’s grief for Birchface’s death as a leader mourning a friend and deputy, not a father mourning a son. Ravenwing could have known, however, hence why Oakstar trusted him.

Off of that branch (heh): Pinestar. Could also have been sired by Oakstar in secret. (Oakstar isn’t getting into kitty cat heaven, not only because he’s a horrible awful person, but also because he broke his vow as leader at least twice) I truthfully don’t see Pinestar breaking his vows in his youth… But as an older tom, when his faith in StarClan has been tested, when his strength has been sapped, and when his loyalty to the Clans has been strained..? When a bright-eyed young molly comes to her leader asking if he had heard of any toms willing to sire a litter without being involved? Perhaps he saw it as a final “fuck you” to StarClan … and a final service to ThunderClan before he left.

Onestar siring Darktail is even more dramatic. (Also no more WhiteOne romance because it’s ew any way you slice it)

I wonder how SkyClan would see these laws…

Squirrelstar couldn’t happen, point blank. No matter how you finagle the timeline… I wonder who would replace her as leader, then…

Bramblestar also couldn’t happen! Which YIPPEE

I imagine that, rather than Moth Flight invoking this law, it would be Wind Runner. Windstar, who lost a kit too young, Dying Embers, she was named… Who shunned her other children for fear of growing too close and feeling that pain again. Who saw Clear Sky’s treatment of Thunder, his messy affairs with Star Flower. Who saw River Ripple’s love spread across so many, like a spider’s web. Who saw her grandchildren by Moth Flight split amongst the young Clans. Who saw Gray Wing’s death strike them all so hard. Who watched Tall Shadow become a shadow of herself, in turn, after her brother and nephew’s deaths… Family is too hard on the heart, she would decree. Too taxing on the mind and the body of those meant to lead. Cut those ties before they have a chance to grow, and the Clans would be better for it. And in the wake of so much death and personal loss, few other leaders would be included to disagree…

Some world building and additional lore from outside perspectives…

ThunderClan who really did perform raids on Twolegplace, to steal kittens in order to raise them as loyal warriors with no other blood ties. This would offer them more options for leader, as well as to keep their genetics clean.

Kittypets who are viewed in an especially odd light because of how huge their litters are known to be. Six at a time, sometimes! What great damage to be done to a Clan’s delicate bloodline system…

Unfortunately no more “queens have a right to withhold the sire of their litter” law, as interesting as it is and how much I wish it would be utilized more in canon. Not having a litter’s full bloodline available would cast a lot of nervousness and doubt across a Clan. Lots of what ifs floated around.

The Clans being widely viewed as odd for how much stock they put into their familial bonds, when most toms outside of the Clans don’t typically get involved with their litters and/or just get purposefully run off… Yet another angle there for the Clans to be looked upon as weird and intense for how they track their ancestry, as well.

Maybe even a new role being made specifically to keep track of bloodlines and names… Like a geneaologist. Maybe they could call them an “archivist” or “blood-tracer” orrrr something… The role would go to cats with exceptional memory. Maybe even a few new suffixes could crop up to note a cat’s memory! I wonder what they’d be…

Thinking about one of my older WC aus again… I’ve finally got a name for it: the Kinless Leaders au

In which I realized that it makes way more sense for the leaders in Warriors to be put under the “cannot have mates or kits” rule rather than healers…

Leaders are far more ingrained in politics and diplomacy than healers are. They’re the only non-healer, as well, who are known to have steady contact with StarClan, and have recieved a grand gift (nine lives) from their ancestors. Literally touched by the stars. They’d need to be “pure”, and completely unhindered by emotional or physical attachments (that being: immediate family, romantic attachments, and kits) that could cloud their judgement when it comes to the good of the whole Clan.

They’re allowed friends — to a degree. Deputies, and successors, would be chosen only if they have no immediate family to speak of, and can prove throughout their assisting reign to have the fortitude to not become a mate or parent. If a leader does have kits, they are to be immediately deposed, for they have lost their Clan’s trust, their connection to StarClan + their ancestor’s trust, and broken their vows. They are more likely now to jump to defend their kin in the face of political unrest, as well.

It would just make more sense, thematically, if this were the case… And provide way more drama. Like, so much more.

Thistleclaw could still have courted Snowfur and sired Whitestorm, but would have broken her heart and requested she invoke Queen’s Rights and not name a father — which could have led to Bluefur’s distaste for him, because of course her sister would have confided in her.

Bluefur could have been pregnant at the time Goosefeather told her of the prophecy, and warned her of Thistleclaw’s bloodthirsty intentions. By that time, Snowfur would have been dead, and we could just kill off Stormtail a bit earlier. Hence why she had to give up her kits, albeit far earlier, to secure her place as leader.

Tigerclaw wouldn’t have sired Goldenflower or Sasha’s kits. But kittens raised without an obvious father, especially when Sasha was a kittypet and Goldenflower’s first mate for her first litter was rumored to be a loner, would be far more easy to manipulate and guide under one’s wing. He could have offered Tawnypelt a place in ShadowClan under him for the same reasons as canon, and could have coaxed both Brambleclaw and Hawkfrost into the Dark Forest after his death regardless.

Crookedstar’s life now becomes ever-sadder, as he fell in love with Willowbreeze, who reciprocated, but could only be with her in secret. Then she and most of their kits die, leading him to believe it is a sign, and offer his only surviving kit to his estranged brother to take into his own mysteriously-born litter.

No more “Half of ThunderClan being direct Firestar descendants”, because Firestar now cannot have kits. Perhaps Squirrelflight and Leafpool were still his, however… Perhaps ThunderClan’s bright brand of fire isn’t as perfect as many believe.

Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight were mates and raised a family, however the argument of “they’re not really yours, so is it alright to step into leadership?” could be made in a society that values their leader’s purity…

Idk. Much angst. Many intrigue. It’s a personal favorite au of mine ^^

[getaandlucius]

A brief Taste of Honey (A Geta and Lucius love story)

Summary: Former emperor Geta survives but he now falls under Lucius’ regime. He gets severely injured and Lucius takes care of him.

Triggerwarnings: readers discretion adviced: heavy angst, describing physical injuries in detail, severe emotional stress, mentioning of death, unreliable narrator.

“Laurentius!” Lucius rushed through the halls when he saw his trusted guard enter. In Laurentius arms was Geta, limp and covered in blood, one arrow lodged in his midriff, the other just under his collarbone.

Lucius took Geta from the guards arms, his heart pounding. Geta was barely conscious, head hanging back, limbs unnaturally heavy. Lucius looked over his shoulder, searching for the healer.

“Ravi!” he called, but Pius rushed over instead.

“We’re ready. Follow me,”

They hurried to the infirmary, mercifully empty due to the lull in battles over the past week.

“Lay him down on his back,” Ravi said, only looking up briefly as he was busy with cleaning the tools. He pointed next to him. “The bed over here.” Lucius walked over and lay him down gently, a hand in his neck for support.

“Leave the chains for now.' Ravi added. 'We’ll work around them. Pius, disinfect the knife. And get me some vinegar.” Pius nodded and went to work.

Lucius’ eyes rested on Geta laying in the bed, his stomach churning at the sight of his broken body, feeling like he failed him somehow. He looked away as Ravi began cleaning the skin around the arrow lodged in Geta’s flesh, his hands steady but swift.

“I’m going to work the tip of the first arrow free,” Ravi told Geta who had stirred awake when the wound was being cleaned. “It’ll hurt when I remove it but I have to ask you not to move.' Geta only stared back at him blankly, limbs shaking faintly. He then closed his eyes again and gave a faint nod.

Ravi leaned in some more. “I’m giving you some devil’s breath and opium to dull the pain, all right?” His voice was gentle.

Lucius’s heart felt heavy knowing what was to come. He was no stranger to death and lethal injury, but unlike the soldiers Lucius had known—muscular, scarred, hardened by years of battle—Geta had no protective layer, and zero reserves. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, and now the pain and blood loss were overwhelming him. His breathing grew shallow, his chest rising and falling in quick, erratic bursts. He struggled to inhale the devil’s breath, trembling violently.

Lucius felt his knees weaken. They would have to cut around the arrow to free it from Geta’s abdomen, while he was still fully conscious. Lucius came to stand closer to him, his hipbone resting against the edge of the bed. Reaching out he stroked the hair from Geta's forehead.

Pius handed Ravi the knife, its gleam cold under the infirmary’s dim light.

'It's okay.' Lucius said softly as Ravi pushed the tip in, next to the arrow.

Geta whimpered, his face crumpling in pain. He pressed his cheek into Lucius’ palm, as if his touch could ease the suffering. Lucius stroked his thumb over the smooth skin of his cheekbones.

“Look at me,” Lucius demanded.

Geta’s eyes fluttered open, the focus there but distant, as if he were fighting to stay conscious. Lucius held his gaze, willing him to stay grounded in the moment.

“You’ll be okay,” Lucius said to Geta as much as himself. “It’ll be okay. Keep looking at me.”

Geta didn’t answer, but his gaze stayed fixed, even as his breathing became more labored.

Ravi’s knife pressed deeper, and Geta gasped, the sound a ragged, desperate thing.

“Shh,” Lucius murmured as tears pooled at the corners of Geta's eyes. “It's okay.'

But with each passing second, Geta’s grip on consciousness slipped further. His breaths became shallow and erratic, his body growing colder to the touch. He turned his face into Lucius’ hand again which was such a vulnerable and desperate gesture, Lucius felt a wave of guilt and failure. He shouldn't have left him there. He should have taken Geta with them instead of leaving Laurentius to deal with it. And he should not have taken back the harness. Lucius himself could fight, and the arrows wouldn't have buried as deep. Geta's was the most vulnerable target of them all and yet Lucius had taken the harness from him without giving that much thought.

'It's too cold here.' Lucius stated as he felt Geta's skin grow even colder.

Ravi shook his head. 'That's good. Lowers the chance of infection.' He replied with a clipped voice in full concentration.

Time seemed to stretch, endless, as Ravi worked to remove the first arrow. Geta’s consciousness flickered in and out, his grip on reality weakening with each wave of pain.

When Geta went completely still and made no sound at all anymore, Lucius felt a sickening knot form in his stomach. His eyes flickered to the blood coming from the open wound as the arrow came out, then back to Geta's face and he filled with dread.

Geta was not going to make it.

----

By the time Ravi began to stitch up the first wound, Geta’s body was completely limp. His face rested heavily against Lucius’ hand, eyes closed, lashes dark against skin that had drained of all color.

Lucius fingers drifted over Geta's skin to the pulse point below his ears, feeling the thrumming weakening little by little.

Lucius kept whispering that it would be okay, kept stroking his cheeks and his silky-soft hair, even though Geta was not aware of his surroundings anymore.

He kept doing this as the morning came. The unusual chill of the April night leaked away a little as the sun came up, casting soft light on the infirmary.

Soft sounds drifted in from outside, and somehow Geta was still here.

Both wounds had now been stitched and cleaned and Lucius himself began struggling more and more against the heaviness of his eyelids. At some point he had dropped to his knees, forearms resting heavily on the bed.

'Hopefully he stays asleep for some more hours.' Ravi said as he cleaned the blood of his skin with water and a clean cloth. 'I'll watch him, Lucius. Go take a bath and get some sleep.'

Lucius shook his head. 'No. Not yet.'

Geta was still on the brink of death, testing the will of the Gods. Lucius, who was not a particularly religious man, kept finding himself praying for Geta’s survival. His throat closed with panic every time he checked for a pulse, afraid to find only stillness. These were the most crucial hours. If Geta’s wounds became infected, he wouldn’t survive it. Lucius stared at Geta’s sleeping form, knowing how hard his body was fighting to stay alive.

But then afternoon came and as much as he had tried to fight it, Lucius had fallen into a light slumber.

When He woke again, he had a thrumming headache and his throat was dry as sand. He looked around him in disorientation and realized Ravi was gone. He shot up, filled with adrenaline and reached out to feel Geta's skin. It was cold. But not too cold. And it wasn't feverish either. Lucius sighed in relief.

Geta was lying completely still, no hint of movement. His face was still contorted, the muscles in his jaw tight, but that also meant he was still with them. Lucius rubbed his hand along the length of Geta's arm, trying to warm up his skin a little, then took his left hand in his own and gently worked out some of the stiffness in his fingers.

As he was repeating it on his right side, Ravi reentered.

'He is doing remarkebly well.' Ravi stated as he checked the stitches, surprise apparent in his voice.

Lucius nodded. What God had favored him this night, he did not know.

'Get some rest Lucius.' Ravi told him again. Lucius nodded now, too weak to object. 'Okay.'

He looked at Geta's sleeping face one last time, then turned on his heel and headed over to the bath house.

He cleaned himself of the dirt, sweat, and remnants of Geta’s blood before lowering his body into the hot, steamy water. He felt the weight of exhaustion and stress pulling at him.

How was Geta still here? Was he going to make it?

Lucius submerged his head below the water surface, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn’t shake the guilt he felt. Though it wasn’t precisely his fault, Geta had been left behind. And judging from the spotless skin Lucius had seen earlier that week in the bathhouse, Geta had never had such physical trauma. This also meant he did not know how to shield his mind from it, which was something you taught yourself after a while of going through it again and again. It never fully left, but the dent became less deep. With Geta, this would tear all the way into him, damaging his trust in the people around him as well as himself, strengthened by the confrontation with his own vulnerability. He did not know how to defend himself.

Lucius pulled his body out of the water and dried off.

Dressed in a freshly washed set of clothing he hadded back to the infirmary.

“Nothing much has changed, Lucius,” Ravi said immediately as he entered.

“Is Geta still okay?”

“Yes. Unconscious, but stable." Then he added, “Augustus is looking for you though.”

“Oh?”

“He’s waiting in the council room. Something about an issue with Britannia.”

Lucius nodded, his eyes drifting back to Geta's bed. He walked over to check, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt Geta’s skin was warmer, closer to a normal temperature.

“I’ll check on him again later tonight.”

Ravi nodded.

Lucius quickly made his way to the council room, where Augustus and Marcus were already waiting. There were indeed new issues in Britannia, but more worryingly, the Dacians were trying to expand into the northern territories, which was rapidly becoming a real threat. Preparations would be needed for another campaign.

Lucius had a hard time focusing on war strategy. His mind kept drifting back to Geta, hoping he would wake up soon and not drift off in an eternal sleep without any warning. But his gut was telling him something was wrong.

The meeting took hours, and afterwards he felt so drained he could barely stay upright. He had slept around two hours in the last forty, and the overload of stress was eating on him. He cracked his neck and rubbed his temples, the headache from that afternoon coming up again. Only then he realized he hadn't eaten at all that day.

He headed over to check on Geta before trying to get some sleep. Maybe he would just crash in one of the beds there.

The infirmary was dimly lit and quiet. There had come in three soldiers from a small incident at Ostia and Ravi and Pius were busy treating their injuries. Geta was till laying in exact the same position, still fully asleep. At first he thought the colour had returned in Geta's face, but as he came closer, he noticed is was just redness in his cheeks. Worried Lucius and put a hand on his forehead, checking for a fever. His skin felt warm. Not hot precisely, but there definitely had been a significant temperature rise. Lucius frowned, angry Ravi had not noticed this yet or paid any attention to him.

'Ravi?' He called out.

'Not now Lucius.' Ravi shook his head, focused on his work.

Lucius’ frustration grew as he turned back to Geta. He felt his neck, then he hands. He was definitely warmer than before, much higher than his own temperature. The brief sense of relief Lucius had felt earlier was washed away by a new wave of panic. He grabbed Geta's shoulder and started shaking him, first softly, then harder.

“Wake up,” he tried to keep calm, but his voice sounded strange, distant.

“Geta, wake up.” He could not bear the thought of Geta quietly passing away in his sleep.

He shook his shoulder again, but Geta’s eyes remained closed. Lucius put his hand on his cheek, which seemed to burn now. He barely noticed when someone grabbed his arm and started pulling him away.

“Come, Lucius. Leave him be.” It was Pius.

Lucius shook his head. 'He has a fever. He needs to wake up to fight it off.'

'No he does not. Let him sleep.' Pius put his body between him and Geta. 'There is no visible infection. If he has a fever it might stem from deeper in the tissue and we cannot do anything, or it might stem from internal bleeding in which case we are also unable to help.'

'We can always do something.' Lucius pressed.

'We are not opening up the wound again Lucius.' Pius voice was stern. 'You and I know both know that is way too big a risk.' Lucius eyes drifted back to Geta, whose breathing was suspiciously steady and had a falsely healthy glow from his body’s internal heat fighting off whatever issue had arisen.

Lucius realized Pius’s hands were resting on his chest, as if to hold him back. “If you’re going to try to wake him again,” Pius said, “I will have to ask you to leave.”

Lucius’s gaze went from Geta back to Pius. He nodded.

“Okay.”

Pius’s hands dropped to his sides and sighed. “Good.”

Lucius noticed now how exhausted Pius was too. They both had dark circles and that faint drunken air that came from sleeping too little and skipping meals.

'I'll make you a bed next to his.' Pius said. Lucius nodded, struck by the limitless kindness of the man.

Later that night Lucius was under the covers propped up on his side. He was trying to stay awake but his body kept betraying him, throwing him off a cliff of exhaustion until he finally succumbed to dreamless sleep.

When he woke it was in the middle of the night. And Geta was awake. The infirmary was ink-black, there was no sound but Geta's pained whimpering, echoing softly off the walls. Lucius rushed over, struggling to find his way through the darkness.

'What is wrong.' He demanded, feeling around the bedlinnen to find where Geta lay. When he found an arm, Lucius noted in disappointment that his skin was still feeling too hot.

Then he heard Geta starting to sob softly.

'It hurts.' He said, sounding so helpless.

Lucius nodded, even though he couldn't see it. He blindly pushed the hair off Geta's forehead just as he had done that morning. 'I know sweetheart.' He said in a low voice. This made Geta only sob more.

Then suddenly Ravi appeared in the darkness with a torch, stirred awake by Geta's pained outcries.

'I'll give you some devils breath.' He reassured Geta and disappeared briefly before returning with the smoky substance. They helped Geta up a bit and watched him take small breaths to inhale the pain relief.

Geta kept on crying as he struggled not to cough.

Lucius left hand was in his neck, the other on the back of his head. The muscle in his biceps began to strain from over-exertion. Then Ravi told him to lay him back down and Lucius stretched his muscles in relief.

'It still hurts.' Geta said after a while, voice rough and high-pitched. Lucius took his clammy hand in his and nodded. 'I know. I know.'

Geta's free hand went up to feel at the linnen cloth covering the wound on his abdomen, then his collarbone.

'It's bad. Is it not?' His brown eyes flickered to Ravi, who nodded pitifully. 'Yes.'

This evoked a new wave of sobs.

Lucius frowned, annoyed at Ravi's bluntness. Crying was not going to help, and Lucius was reaching the limit of pain and distress he could handle seeing.

'Am I going to die?' Geta's eyes were not on Ravi anymore but were now glued on Lucius'. Lucius shook his head. 'You will not.' He kneeled next to his bed, Geta's hand still wrapped in his.

'Where death is, you are not. Where you are, death is not. You are protected. And you will make it through.' His voice was stead-fast. He bore his eyes into Geta's. 'Do you hear me?' Geta nodded, eyes not leaving his. And they stayed there until Ravi wished them both good night and Geta fell into a restless sleep again.

Lucius did not shut an eye, watching over him until the morning came again.

You can read this as a stand-alone, or first read the precious parts: part 1 part 2 part 3,

Part 4

[writingdevil]

Tongues and Teeth PT.4 (STP)

(Fair warning-Cold is one of the two voices that I'm probably going to have trouble writing,so I apologize if I butcher his character)

*

Paranoid jumped off the rock,spinning around to try and spot the newcomer,useless wings wrapped around him for protection.He did a full rotation without seeing anyone,and he stopped,brows furrowed in confusion as he stared at the trees around him,until the stranger spoke up,"On your right."

He twisted his head to the right,the dimming of the sun making it hard to see anything,but when he squinted his eyes,he managed to catch a flash of movement.A blink.

That was when he realised that there was one of them here,leaning against a tree with his arms crossed,dark feathers blending perfectly into the growing darkness.

The bird tilted his head to the side as he said,"Hello there,"with frost exhaling from his mouth.There was only one voice that could be.

"Cold."

"Paranoid."

"How long have you been there?"Cold shrugged, and Paranoid asked,"Have you seen any of the others?"Cold took a second to think,then said,"I don't remember how long ago it was,but I did see Hero at some point."

Paranoid stepped forward in shock and longing, wringing his hands together,the ache in his heart growing bigger.Cold noticed,and only raised a brow at his reaction,but he couldn't help it.

He would only feel truly safe and okay once he found Hero.He couldn't explain it,but Hero just felt like safety,like nothing was beyond repair if he was there.It might have to do with the fact that Hero seemed closer to the Decider than the rest of them.

"Was he alright?Did you see where he went?"Cold shrugged,looking away."Not sure.He seemed to be in a hurry,but I decided that seeing what this new form could do was more interesting."Paranoid swallowed his scream of frustration,because this was just how Cold behaved.

He took a deep breath in."How are you enjoying your new form?"

"How are you enjoying yours?"

"It's awful,"he tucked his wings behind his back, hoping Cold didn't care enough to pay attention to it,"Now I have to actually worry about me,and the rest of you reckless idiots."

"I noticed Opportunist drop you here.You've been busy,haven't you?"He could've sworn that Cold's eyes darkened."Has he already tried one of his schemes on you?"

Paranoid clenched his fists,feeling Cold's eyes freezing him to the spot."We're just trying to gather everyone.There's me,Opportunist and Contrarian-and now you,technically."

"Oh?"Cold said,and finally pushed himself off the tree,strolling up to him in a relaxed manner,walking into the light so that Paranoid could see him better.He noticed that Cold's feathers were slightly on the thinner side,but not as bad as Paranoid's, and in the light,he noticed that the hue of his feathers actually looked a little lighter compared to everyone else so far.

He kept his arms behind his back,making Paranoid feel smaller than an ant as he said,"What makes you think I want to come with you?"Paranoid gulped, because he knew that convincing Cold to do something he had no interest in was an impossible task,especially now that they weren't simply voices fighting for control anymore.Cold could quite literally wander off to do whatever he wanted.

Paranoid chuckled,trying to come off as self-assured,but it only sounded anxious.He gestured around them."What?Is some dirt and trees enough to keep you in one place for this long?"

"Maybe."What?

Now he was really confused,because that didn't sound like Cold at all.There was no way that he was fascinated with the forest that much. Experimenting with his new body?Yes.Standing in a forest that they've seen plenty of times?No way.

Paranoid lowered his wings,trying to come up with a way to talk to Cold and get him to join them.But Cold had always been an enigma to Paranoid-their whole argument about pain was clear evidence of that.But Paranoid refused to give up-the thought of dying at the hands of her, was enough to send him snapping at anyone trying to make dumb and impulsive decisions.

But...none of that mattered anymore,did it?He could never successfully get the Decider to avoid all the horror that He went through,all the pain and trauma.Paranoid couldn't even escape from a monster without help now!

He wasn't as useful as he once was.Or had he ever been useful,considering all the agony they suffered?

"Oh,"Cold said,bringing Paranoid back to reality, "there's that look again.How odd.I don't think I've ever seen you look like that before."

Paranoid sighed,ignoring the comment."So you don't want to join us,I take it?"Cold hummed,then said,"Not right now."

"Why?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why?Tell me what's more interesting than watching us fumble around and try to get used to this new situation.I'd have thought that would've been perfect entertainment for you."

Cold blinked,silent for a moment,then let a heavy sigh out,cold air disappearing into the dying light. "Preferably,I would keep going until I found something that made me feel-something more,but it appears that solid bodies have...limits."

"Oh?So you're just tired?"

"I guess you could call it that."Cold backed away, until he was leaning against the tree again."For now, I'm happy to wait,until I get too bored again.Then I'll see what this place has to offer."

Paranoid made sure to not mention the creature he just encountered.

So Cold was just tired?He was just waiting for the energy to go out and try and feel something again?That was more understandable to him,but something in the back of his head was whispering doubts.Was Cold really someone to care about limits?He didn't even care about being killed by the Princess that much!

Paranoid took a step forward,and Cold didn't react. But he took another step forward,almost closing the distance between them,and then Cold asked, "What are you doing?"in that sharp yet soft voice of his,turning his head to look away from him.

But why ask?Why not see what Paranoid would do?Why was Cold-holding back,in a way?

Paranoid sighed in frustration,and that was when he noticed Cold's breath,thanks to the frost.He would've thought that Cold would be taking long, relaxed breaths,just waiting for the time to move again.But his breaths were coming out in quick, short bursts,as if he was trying to get to heart under control.But why would-oh.

That was when he realised-Cold wasn't bored and just waiting for something interesting to happen.He was overwhelmed,a feeling Paranoid was quite familiar with.

He once thought that Cold would love all these new things he got to explore-but perhaps he was wrong, and he wasn't as numb as he'd like to be anymore.

But the realisation must have shown on Paranoid's face,because Cold furrowed his brows,and without taking his gaze away from him,slammed his elbow into the tree behind him,causing an owl to cry out and fly away,and for Paranoid to yell out.

"Fucking hell!"he exclaimed,hands coming up to clutch at the feathers near his head,jumping back a good ten feet from Cold,who's smugness Paranoid could feel.

His body shook,and he placed his hands over his pounding heart,softly muttering to himself,"Heart, lungs,liver,nerves,"over and over again until he got his body under control and he no longer felt in danger.

At least his chant,despite everything else,seemed to be normal.

When he came to,Cold was giving him a curious look,and ignored Paranoid's glare as he said,"Tell me how you do that."

Paranoid sighed,but opened his mouth to explain it, a habit from teaching Hero,until an idea popped into his head.

Opportunist got Contrarian on board by poking at his ego,to make him want to be with them.Maybe Paranoid can do the same here.

So he looked Cold in his dark,unreadable eyes and said,"No."

For a brief moment,a look of genuine surprise came over Cold's features,before falling back into his usual blank mask.

"No?"Cold repeated,intrigue in his tone now."No," Paranoid said,crossing his arms and looking away, in the hopes that Cold didn't see the anxiety in his eyes."I don't think I feel like it."Then he shrugged, feigning indifference."You probably wouldn't get it anyways."

He held that position for a few seconds,until he felt footsteps approach him,and he took a deep breath, willing his worries to go away,and he turned just as Cold walked up to him.

He unfortunately towered over Paranoid.It was eerily quiet as they stared each other down, Paranoid having to crane his neck back to even properly look at him-so close that their chest feathers were touching

They held each other's gazes,and Cold didn't seem to blink,an intensity in his stare that had Paranoid's knees wobbling,but he held firm.

This should've been the moment that Paranoid turned around and left him wanting more,like with Contrarian.The longer he stayed there though,the quicker Cold would call his bluff,or give up entirely.

But at this proximity,Paranoid could clearly see the slight tremor in the other's body,the clouded, almost unfocused look in his eyes.Cold hid it well, but Paranoid knew when someone was overstimulated,from his own experiences and with helping Hero through his own struggles.

He couldn't look away,pretend to not care.He did care,even if Cold acted like he didn't,and he wouldn't feel right leaving him all alone in these woods.The thought made his stomach turn.

Cold may act numb,but a body doesn't lie.

"You're not as untouchable as you think you are," Paranoid said,clenching his fists tight to keep him on the spot.Cold merely leaned closer,and asked in a teasing manner,"What are you going to do about it?"

Neither of them said anything for a few seconds-until Paranoid sighed.

"Sit down,"he instructed,lowering himself to the ground.Cold looked at him for a second or two,then shrugged and sat down across from him.

"Give me your hand,"he softly ordered,holding his own hand out expectedly,palm facing up.Cold didn't tear his eyes away from Paranoid,yet still gently placed his hand in his.

"Are you teaching me your chant?"

"No."Paranoid closed his fingers around Cold's hands,immediately noticing how thin and bony they were,and he felt how they shook slightly in his grip.He was also freezing,but he figured that that was normal for the other bird.

"Close your eyes,"he said,and he waited until Cold obliged,before doing the same himself.For once, Paranoid actually felt sure of what he was doing as he said,"Take a deep breath in,hold it for four seconds,then breathe out for five seconds."He did it as well,and was pleasantly surprised to hear Cold copy him.

He rubbed a thumb over Cold's knuckles and whispered,"Now do it again."They breathed in sync, letting nothing but the sounds of the forest consume them,and Paranoid,even though this was for Cold,felt his own muscles relax and his wings lower to the ground.A part of him wanted to stay in this little bubble of peace forever.

But still,at some point,Cold's hand stopped shaking,and Paranoid whispered,"Open your eyes."

What he saw,was still Cold's blank face,but there was now a lightness in his eyes that hadn't been there before.He gave the other a small smile and said,"One day,I'll show you the chant,but right now you needed something else."

Cold said nothing,and Paranoid was about to let go, but before he could,Cold suddenly yanked him forward,and Paranoid yelped as their faces were now inches away from each other,and he couldn't bring himself to look away from Cold's intense stare.

Paranoid didn't dare speak-and then he felt a gentle squeeze from Cold.

A thank you.

Paranoid was too stunned to speak,as Cold let go of his hand and leaned back,content to sit there in silence.

However,Paranoid had too many strong emotions to speak right now.He thought that he was worthless in this new form now,no longer able to perform the way he used to,no longer able to protect the way he used to.But he was wrong.

He may be in an entirely new and unpredictable situation,and dealing with things that he never had to before,but he was still him.Just because he couldn't do certain things,doesn't mean that he can't do other things that are extremely valuable to his flock.The skills he has still matter,now more than ever.

A warmth spread through him at the realisation,and a soft smile was beginning to grow on his face when-

"Look out!"

Suddenly,a dark figure burst through the foliage, and Paranoid yelled out in fright,but still scrambled to his feet,with Cold in tow-although not as frantically.

The figure ran on all fours,running in circles around the area,until it stopped and pressed its back against a tree,and then Paranoid realised that it was Hunted.

His whole body was shaking violently,claws digging into the bark of the tree as his eyes darted around, never lingering on one place for too long,with his feathers sticking out in all directions.

Paranoid looked back to where he had emerged from,to find Contrarian had pushed Oppy to the ground,presumably to avoid Hunted,and a Stubborn looming above them just brimming with energy and aggression.

Stubborn looked to be as tall as Cold was,but where Cold was skinny,Stubborn was bulky,with sharp claws just itching to fight something.He was twisting his head around madly,a feral grin on his face as he said,"Where is he?!Where is that little pipsqueak?!"

"What is going on here?"Paranoid demanded,and Stubborn's attention immediately shifted to him, but his face twisted in disappointment."I'm looking for that little rat!Have you seen him?"

Paranoid knew he was talking about Hunted,but he didn't dare look over and give away his place in the shadows,the moon high in the air at this point.

"Why?Has something happened?"

"Yeah,and it's the fact that we haven't fought yet!"

"You want to fight Hunted?"Oppy asked in confusion,being pulled to his feet by an equally confused Contrarian.

Stubborn just gave them all a hungry grin full of teeth."Yeah!Now that I've got this body all to myself,I can really challenge it,and since the Princesses are gone and I haven't seen Hero boy around,that pipsqueak is the only worthy opponent left!"

"Did he want to fight you?"Oppy asked,and Stubborn sighed sharply."No!All he cared about was finding you lot!He wouldn't fight me all!"

Contrarian snorted."So you decided to just chase him around?Him?Hunted?"

"Well what other choice did I have?"

"Leave him alone,maybe!"Paranoid snapped,and Stubborn just glared at him."Why?What else is there to do other than to fight to see what we can take?"

"So you just want to punch things again?How unoriginal,"Cold commented with a roll of his eyes, and Stubborn let out a snarl at him."Well I'm sure as hell not gonna sit around and do nothing with this freedom,am I?"Before Paranoid could speak,he waved them all away."Whatever.I'm off to find the little runt.Don't bother me until I've fought and beaten him."With that,Stubborn stomped away.

Everyone was too shocked to speak,but then Paranoid heard a small sound coming from Hunted, and when he brought his attention back to him, dread filled his chest and made him rush over to him,as he realized Hunted was having a panic attack.

"Hunted,"he softly called,kneeling in front of him, but Hunted wouldn't respond,his eyes staring into nothing as his breathing came out in short,painful looking bursts.

There was no way he could calm him down like he had with Cold.But there was one thing he could do.

Paranoid took a deep breath in,placing one of his hands over Hunted's rapidly beating heart,and directing Hunted's hand over Paranoid's own,and with that,everything else fell to black.

"Heart.Lungs.Liver.Nerves."

His head tipped back,and there was only the feeling of blood rushing and a heart full of fear,but not of his own.Hunted's fear was like the whipping of wind,crashing and flinging about everywhere, twisting and turning,but with nowhere to go.

"Heart.Lungs.Liver.Nerves."His voice was firm yet calm as he spoke,willing the fear to leave Hunted,to see that he was safe,his flock was here and they were going to protect each other now.

It felt like hours had passed,but with one last whisper of his chant,and a promise that the danger had passed,Paranoid felt Hunted calm down.

He sighed in relief,letting their hands fall to their laps.It felt good-in a weird way-to do his chant again,despite the tense predicaments that it's needed for.

He slowly lowered his head to face Hunted,to find him staring at Paranoid with an animalistic intensity,but he knew he wasn't in danger.

Especially when Hunted gently cupped his face,and pressed their foreheads together.

[mlobsters]

probably a weird thing to ask you but you seem to have watched a lot of those panels. why do you think they keep doing those cons. outside i guess of the money. i'm asking as someone who hasn't seen their panels at all. maybe one day i will. but like, i think, what do you think j2 (and the rest of the cast presumably) get out of it.

thank you again for this ask, i am very happy to have an excuse to talk about this! i have not been in this fandom very long (about 2 years now) and i mostly just make stuff so i think i still have a slightly outsider perspective, so i suppose take all this with that in mind. :)

straight away, for sure the financial aspect is gonna be part of it - and i imagine especially so for the cast that participates that had smaller roles. but that aside, i don't genuinely believe that the main cast would continue to do these for so long unless they enjoyed it and got something positive out of it, especially being that they are actively working on other projects too. they actually talked about this, in a way, at this most recent con (nashcon 2024) so i'm going to include some of that - and a bit jared talked about the connections fans have made (chicon 2023). for reasons stated below*, i'm sure there are a bunch of examples of times they've talked about these things i'm not aware of, because i haven't read or watched that much panel content. but here's a small sampling.

jared and jensen main pain, nashcon 2024 question: what has it been like to watch the entire fandom change and grow over these last many years, and people who have been at these conventions change and grow?

jared and jensen gold panel chicon 2023 question: what's your favorite fan interaction over the years?

to go along with this, i think it's part and parcel to the topic; i really do believe they truly are invested and care about their characters and the story. the way they've talked about the revival/season 16/whatever you call it, they're all in to go back to it. jared even mentioned at one point if they had shorter seasons (which they asked for repeatedly), they might still be making the show. i don't have concrete examples i can point to in panels, but i think if you do watch them talk about their characters much, there's a lot of thoughtfulness and care there.

Would you be open to returning to Sam Winchester? I feel like there are more stories for that character and, with The Winchesters done, it's a weird time to be a Supernatural fan with no new Supernatural on television for the first time in almost 20 years. It is weird, right? It's weird for you to say that and weird for me to realize it. The simple answer to your question is 100%. I will play Sam Winchester again. Jensen will play Dean Winchester again. It's more of a timing and availability thing. In hindsight, Jensen and I have always said "always," if we ever have the option. I think in the last two or three seasons of Supernatural, when we realized somebody might want more, we said "2025. In 2020, we're ending this. Let's get together in five years and see what Sam and Dean are up to." I'm going to see him in a few weeks to talk to him about it again. We've talked about it a few times. He and I are both champing at the bit to see what these boys have been up to and what else good they can do in this world or the next. I'm excited about it. My only contingency about it is, with Jensen and I being so protective of the show and the characters, the story has to be absolutely right. I don't just put on flannel and big coat, get in an Impala and say "Dean!" That won't work for Jared. It needs to have a purpose, as Sam and Dean always did.

via cbr, walker season 4 interview with jared

and i think they just have fun! they've developed a relationship with fandom that works for them in this format and they get to play around on stage with their friends and entertain people that love them. at the end of the day, it is a job for them, and they are putting on a performance; but i wouldn't be so cynical to think they aren't being somewhat genuine within that framework.

jared and jensen dccon 2023 main panel question: How long have you guys been friends?

and not to be totally j2 brained, but when you have a connection with someone like this, maybe it also isn't such a hardship to keep working together

*i actually haven't actually watched many panels! but fortunately for me (us), i have seen a lot of gifs and transcriptions. i have a hard time with the video format for reasons. when i decide to make gifs, it's often because i saw a quote or snippet somewhere and i go looking for the conversation to get a clip of, and sometimes might bump into something else that grabs me while i'm there. fortunately, a lot of the videos on youtube have at least autogenerated captions so i can scroll through the transcript there/search for keywords, etc. @eisforeidolon transcribes selections of questions from cons periodically, which i'm forever grateful for. a not insignificant chunk of my panel related show/cast trivia has been gleaned from those.

[moonteaa]

I have held out as long as I could. What Teba thoughts are currently swirling around?

OH MY GOODNESS! Finally got around to checking my silly inbox! My apologies!! I presume we’d like some more Dad Teba headcanons perhaps? hehe let me see here..

1. Teba gifted both Link and Zelda a hand crafted Rito headdress! Each headdress has each of their feathers (Teba, Tulin, and Saki) and next to the feathers (for Zelda) is a silent princess and (for Link) a blue nightshade to represent their place in their little Rito family! Hehe

2. Teba Knows Zelda’s favorite treat is fruit cake, always knows to bring her some when they see one another.

3. If any one in the group for some reason can’t sleep, or are struggling with nightmares and such, Teba is willing to stay up and whether they want to talk or just sit and be with each other’s company, then he’ll do just that.

4. I feel like Teba has very keen eyes for details and keeps in mind what everyone enjoys, dislikes, and needs.

5. Everyone likes to cuddle up against Teba, especially if they’re traveling in colder regions!

6. Teba is both impressed and bewildered when he sees Link eating rocks for the first time. There are many things about Link that impresses Teba, and eating rocks? Definitely up there.

7. Teba deeply respects Link, Zelda, and the sages but finds it difficult in his heart to accept the fact that kids are the ones holding the entire kingdom on their shoulders. It’s both admirable but heartbreaking.

8. Was so proud of Tulin when he became a sage but so worried. (Even if we don’t see it, I can imagine Teba feeling overcome with emotion when he gifts Tulin the Great Eagle Bow. His boy is growing up aksjs)

9. Zelda once gave him a silent princess flower and he safely keeps it wrapped around the belt of his armor.

10. Basically anything the others give him, it can be a tiny little trinket or something that held memories, Teba keeps it safe and at his home (or the flight range)

11. I like to think Teba has pictures around of both his family and his found family heh

12. Zelda likes taking the most silliest pictures of him with the Shiekah Slate/Purah pad

13. I think..when Teba sleeps he sometimes lets out little chirps ;-;

14. Teba really wants both Link and Zelda to rest.

(Often finds Zelda sleeping after working all night and tucks her into bed. Smh. She’s also fallen asleep on Teba many times.)

15. Teba struggled to get Zelda to open up about what was going on in her mind, eventually, they had a deep heart to heart and she opened up about her fears, traumas, and heavy burdens and weight she must carry alone and many tears were shed but with tears comes big and warm feathery hugs. He understands that she went through pain that no one her age should go through.

16. In fact..I imagine he’s had a heart to heart with all of his companions, he’s a very good listener and a friend and father figure to all.

17. Would not hesitate to die protecting the ones he cares for

18. Teba I believe is a Rito warrior who fights not just out of duty but out of love. Love for his home, his family, (blood related or not) friends. Overall, I think Teba is a warrior with a very golden heart which is why he was chosen to be Elder.

19. When he’s Elder however, he misses his companions, or as he likes to call them, his “kiddos”

20. Gets really happy when Link and Zelda visit (they visit their little Rito family very often.) Link and Zelda have their own little hammock for when they visit and stay the night!

21. Sometimes when Link and Tulin are off playing and being the best brothers, Zelda likes to sit with Teba and just talk.

22. Teba likely felt frustrated not being able to help search for Link and Zelda when they went missing after the upheval

23. Relief + Concern was felt when Link came back safely but ..WITH A NEW ARM??

24. Very happy to know link was safe but I can imagine not all was well knowing Zelda was still missing. The family wasn’t complete, you know? Agh!

25. When the Light Dragon (Zelda) flies by the regions of her companions (Sidon, Teba, Tulin, Riju, Yunobo) they all can feel Zelda’s presence but don’t understand why (yet)

25. Teba wouldn’t have fallen for Puppet Zelda, I think he would have been able to easily see through the disguise. That’s a dad’s intuition!

26. Yeah, Teba finding out about Zelda’s fate and becoming the light Dragon? He wasn’t okay. Not at all. Silent tears were shed. It was the closest experience to Teba “losing” a child and he never really recovered from that.

27. Teba once promised Zelda he would take her flying.

28. He did. When he flew beside the Light dragon and when he did he says with a bitter chuckle,

“This wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for.”

IM SORRY.

29. Trust me, they had a very happy family reunion. Had a difficult time letting either Link, Zelda and Tulin out of his sight and became slightly anxious.

30. Cannot comprehend what Zelda went through and the sacrifice she made. Deeply admires her but his heart aches for her too.

31. (HAPPY ZELINK ONE I SWEAR) Teba is the one to walk Zelda down the aisle when she marries Link. 🤍

Hope you enjoyed these!! Ah! If you ever want more well..I’m always here! I love found family so much! Hehe 😭

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji goes to Lotus Pier (No relation to the AU of the same name)

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[faaun]

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally

[tiffanylamps]

i apologise to my mutuals for who i become every wednesday after watching ted lasso i just love that show. I LOVE IT.

[psalmsofpsychosis]

Good evening, fellow adhd-haver here! there's... a lot of shoulds and should nots and ideas in here that dont align with your actual reality really, and just because your ideas and notions around what you want your life to look like and what you want to be doing and what you want to enjoy (or dont) come from yourself, supposedly, rather than societal frameworks around "what is the correct way to live", doesn't make your mental structure and your internal emotional landscape any less ineffective or sabotaging to you.

What you wrote has an undercurrent of frustration and hurt and it really doesn't matter whether you chose your ideas yourself or if they're social hand-downs; the things is, your mentality simply isn't lining up with your limitations and capabilities at the moment and you dont have effective methods in place yet to harness your specific strengths and weaknesses, so you just feel awful about it, which is okay. But it's not necessarily how you have to go about it.

My dishes pile up and i sometimes get moldy pans in the fridge for months on end that i forget about, and i have a hard time focusing on many things i love sometimes, and it does bring up a lot of sadness for me, but i dont see ADHD as an illness or a deficiency, it is a different set of gifts, gifts that society at large isn't generally structured to accomodate or make good use of. But they're gifts nonetheless, just misplaced. If you bring a $20k handmade japanese kitchen knife to a mechanic's shop it's gonna feel like an absolutely incoherent and useless and possibly frustrating addition to the space because the tool is not suited to the tasks and skills carried out in there and it can even get in the way and become troublesome, the japanese knife doesn't belong here. That doesn't make it any less valuable and worthy a tool, it just means it's brought to the wrong context.

I dont feel guilt or shame about my dishes piling up and i dont feel bad about the dust on my desk or the fact that i can't focus on my favourite stuff, even though i want to, because i know that while i might feel shitty about these things sometimes, i also have gifts that fit perfectly in their right contexts and i can enjoy them there, and the frustration means i gotta switch, even if it's just for 10 minutes. Bring the japanese kitchen knife to kitchen and you feel fucking good about how well it works and how much it makes cooking easier and more efficient and how much the whole endeavor brings you joy.

It's absolutely alright if you havent found a kitchen where your knife fits yet, it takes time, and you need contexts where the knife fits. It makes the sadness you experience over not being able to attend to your other wants and shoulds and should nots easier. And yep, there's sadness and anger and grief in it. But that doesn't mean that all you have is an illness or deficiency. You're not a problem, you're severely misplaced in your environment, and it brings up so much frustration and it's okay to feel sad about it. Keep what you want to do, but you can also find where your gifs do belong and enjoy applying them there. It's not a this OR that situation, it's this AND that. You're gonna feel bad about sometimes not being able to focus on stuff you love, AND you're gonna apply your strengths in other situations where they're needed and appreciated and where it brings you joy.

I don't strictly "like" taking ADHD meds, the comedown is awful and they play havoc on my appetite. But I kinda need them. I write software for a living. Software requires a great deal of focus that I simply cannot muster up off my meds. If I didn't have my meds, I would lose my job.

Part of this can be blamed on the cruelties of our modern capitalistic system. If the world understood my condition better, maybe I would not need to take stimulants to survive. I read an article once that really went all in on the idea that ADHD's negative perception is a symptom of perception, not an objective truth. Maybe people with ADHD are just as capable, but they do things in a different way to neurotypicals. Maybe all we need is better support, and social solutions, and more understanding of the different way that ADHDers think.

Which is all very compelling. Except.

I often find myself procrastinating activities that I want to do. My apartment has been accumulating dust because I keep forgetting to vacuum. One time I let the dishes in my sink stack too high and it was months before I could get myself to clean the mould off them. The demands of capitalism mean I need to software to pay rent, but sometimes I just want to do software, and no amount of narrative reframing or social support will clear the noise in my head long enough to let me focus on the code.

The notion that ADHD isn't a deficiency, just a different way of thinking, is something I find condescending. The implication here is I shouldn't have to write software, I should be given a different job, and I shouldn't have to maintain my own apartment, I should have the support of my community coming into my room and cleaning my things. But what if I want to do those things? What if I like software, or the privacy of an atomised existence? Maybe society has no right to decide what the correct way to live my life is, but surely I do!

The reason it sucks that it's hard for me to keep my dishes clean is not because the world says so, it is because I say so. It is because sometimes I want to be able to remember to do things and it sucks that I cannot live my life in the way that I want.

[chosok-amo]

‘ SSSHH, BEWARE OF THE FOOTSTEPS！

feat. gojo, geto, toji, sukuna, nanami, shiu

𖧷 sum. “ssshh, keep quiet,” they moan in your ear, breath burning your skin despite the cool air of the night. sēx outside can be very tricky, but. . . getting caught or not, it’s up to you: whether you can’t keep your moán to yourself or. . . not.

warning. outdoors/public space, exhibitionism, dōuble-penetration ( sukuna ), petnames, overstim, praises, name-calling, choke(s), under influence ( gojo, all consent ), dirty talk, spank(s).

＃ GOJO SATORU

your giggles grow louder rhythm along the way you bounce on gojo’s thick cock, the friction sending waves of pleasure through your body. the alcohol has loosened your inhibitions, allowing you to be more carefree and playful in your lovemaking. “baby...” you whimper, grinding down on him harder as you ride his lap. your wet cunt clings tightly to his shaft, the heat, and tightness driving him wild.

“you’re such a naughty girl, always begging for more of my cock,” gojo teases, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusts up into you. his blue eyes sparkle with mischief and arousal, drowsy from alcohol. “i think ’m going to have to punish you for being such a bad girl. you couldn’t even wait until we got home, huh?”

gojo grins at you, crocked, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you hard and fast, his massive cock stretching your cunt to its limits. “yeah, looks like i’ve got a little slut on my hands,” he says, his voice low and husky with desire. “a filthy girl who can’t control herself around me.”

he lifts your skirt higher, exposing more of your ass as he slaps it hard, the sound echoing through the quiet yard. “this is what happens when you’re a bad girl, sweetheart. you get punished.” gojo thrusts up into you again, his length hitting deep inside your womb. “and right now, i’m the judge, jury, and executioner.”

you laugh before a sharp cry escapes your lips the second gojo’s palm— big and cold— connects with your ass, the stinging sensation mingling with the intense pleasure from his relentless pounding. your cunt clenches around his thick cock, drawing him in deeper with each thrust.

“you are so silly,” you cringed between your giggles, bracing yourself against his chest as you continue to ride him wildly. the combination of the cool evening air, the warmth of his body beneath you, and the intoxicating liquor coursing through your veins has you lost in a haze of lust and euphoria.

“sshh, we should be quiet,” you whisper, again, giggling, your voice breathless and desperate between the laugh. nails dig into his shoulders as you grind down onto him, seeking that perfect angle to make you come undone. gojo chuckles darkly at your whispered plea, his grip on your hips tightening as he continues to fuck you mercilessly. “shh, yeah, keep quiet, baby,” he murmurs, his hot breath tickling your ear. “we don’t want anyone hearing how loud and dirty this little slut is getting fucked out here.”

his words send a tingling, flames of stars from your shoulder straight to your cunt, and you bite your lip to stifle another giggle. gojo’s cock is so deep inside you, stroking that sensitive spot within your core with every powerful thrust. you can feel his balls slapping against your cunt, adding to the overwhelming sensations crashing through your body.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” gojo groans, his face contorting in pleasure. “i can feel your cunt squeezing me like a vice. you love my big dick, don’t you?” your legs tremble as gojo’s thick cock stretches and fills you completely, the pleasure bordering on pain as he hits that sweet spot deep within your core over and over. you throw your head back, your long hair cascading down your back as you surrender to the overwhelming sensations.

“your mom and dad might see us,” you declare between the giggle instead of answering, warm breath fanning your boyfriend’s face the minute you lean closer. the mix of the rough grass beneath you, the cool night air, and gojo’s searing heat enveloping— a dangerous mix of cocktails of lust and pleasure that sends you spiraling out of your mind.

gojo smirks up at you, his piercing blue eyes gleaming with lust and mischief. “let ’em watch,” he says, his voice low and husky. “they already know i’m a perverted bastard. nothing new there. they know better than to disturb me when i’m fucking their daughter-in-law.” he grips your hips harder, pulling you down onto his cock as he drives upward, burying himself to the hilt inside your dripping pussy. “fuuuck, you feel amazing,” gojo groans, his forehead pressing against yours as he starts to lose himself in the pleasure. “i could cum inside you right now, fill this naughty girl up with my seed.”

his words send a jolt of excitement through you, and you begin to move faster, riding him with reckless abandon. the thought of gojo marking you, claiming you as his, pushes you closer to the edge. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the yard, punctuated by your high-pitched moans, giggle and gasps.

he leans in, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss, his tongue plundering yours as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. gojo breaks the kiss, panting heavily, his blue eyes blazing with intensity. “you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you, baby? i can feel your pussy twitching around my cock.”

# GETO SUGURU

gasps sharply as geto’s thick cock plunges deep inside you, your body jolting against the cold metal railing. you bite your lip hard, trying to stifle a moan at the intense sensation of being taken so roughly out here in the open air. “sh-shh...” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling slightly. “fuck— sugu’ be quiet,” just a second, you glare at your boyfriend over your shoulder.

fingers curling around the rusty, dirty balcony fence tighter, your knuckles turning white as he pounds into you relentlessly. the force of each thrust makes my breasts bounce and rub against the rough fabric of his shirt that you wear. you can feel every ridge and vein of his shaft stretching you wide, hitting all the right spots inside you.

“oh god— baby,” breathe out, your words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing and the creaking of the wooden floor beneath you. “hah! look who’s talking tough now,” geto chuckles lowly, his breath hot against your ear as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. his hands grip your hips tight, fingers digging into your flesh as he uses them to pull you back onto his cock with each brutal thrust. he is not even bothering to keep his voice down as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. his mission is only one : make the stupid neighbors stop flirting with you.

“you’re the one making all those cute little noises,” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement. “i bet they can hear you moaning all the way down the hall. ’m surprised they haven’t called the cops yet,” he teases, his breath hot against your ear as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your neck as he growls, “and i’m going to keep doing this until you can’t take anymore.”

geto reaches around to grab your breast, squeezing it roughly through the fabric of the shirt. he pinches your nipple between his fingers, meannn, twisting it just enough to send a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to your cunt. the action earn a choked whimper escapes your throat at the cruel twist of your nipple, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. geto’s pace quickens, his hips snapping forward with increased urgency. the balcony’s fence creaks ominously under the force of your coupling, but he shows no signs of slowing down. “come on doll, scream for me,” he commands, his voice low and husky with desire. “let everyone know who’s fucking you senseless out here.”

your pussy clenches tightly around geto’s thick cock, milking him as he continues to ravage you with wild abandon. “ah-ahh! s-suguuuu’!” you cry out, unable to contain yourself any longer. the rough treatment of your sensitive nub, combined with the relentless pounding of his shaft, pushes you precariously close to the edge.

geto’s mocking words only fuel the fire within you, igniting a dark, primal desire that demands release. as he grips your hip harder, pulling you back onto him with bruising force, you surrender completely to the overwhelming sensations. “hhn! oh f-fuck, s-shouldd- quiet,” you wail, your voice rising to a desperate keen, whispering like a mantra to yourself.

geto grins wickedly, pleased by your desperate attempts to stifle your cries. however, he clearly has no intention of letting up anytime soon. “that’s right, let it out,” he encourages, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. “moan for me, doll. show everyone how much you love getting fucked raw by your boyfriend out in the open.”

he punctuates his words with another vicious thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside you. the obscene squelch of skin meeting skin echoes loudly across the balcony, mingling with your ragged breaths and the creaking of the railing beneath you. geto leans in close, his lips hovering mere inches from your ear as he whispers, “come on, i know you can be louder than that,” his breath burning, spit all the pleasure with his dirty talk. “show me how much you love getting fucked in public. let everyone know who’s making you cum so hard.”

you can tell geto was loving seeing you struggle to hold back your moans. he continued to push deeper and faster into your wet heat, stretching your walls around his thickness with every powerful stroke. his grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your skin as he used your body for his own pleasure— and his punching-jealosy bag. you could feel the veins in his cock pulsing against your inner walls, throbbing with need.

a strangled sob tears from your throat as geto’s words wash over you, each syllable a sharp blade cutting through your last vestiges of restraint. the shameless, public nature of your tryst, coupled with the unrelenting assault on your senses, finally shatters the fragile barrier holding back your climax.

“fuck, fuck, fuuuck,” you shriek, your voice a raw, guttural cry that seems to reverberate off the very walls of the building. your body convulses violently, back arching as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over you. your pussy clamps down around geto’s pistoning cock like a vice, rhythmically milking him as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. the sheer intensity of your release leaves you gasping and twitching, utterly spent.

# TOJI FUSHIGURO

breathless moans escape your lips as toji pounds into you relentlessly, the bamboo walls creaking with each powerful thrust. the sound of waves crashing outside mingles with your ragged panting, creating an erotic symphony.

“mm— baby. .” you gasp, your hands bracing against the rough bamboo as he grips your hips, pulling you back onto his thick cock each time while you, uncontrollably desperate to keep your mouth shut from spreading the moan and sin to everyone around— there are children around for fuck sake. the cool ocean breeze wafts through the open ceiling of the structure, sending shivers down your spine even as your body burns with desire. your clit throbs in time with toji’s sleepless strokes.

“shhh... i gotchu, ma,” toji whispers huskily in your ear, feeling your body tremble beneath him. he tightens his grip on your hips, fucking you harder, faster, driven by lust and the thrill of getting caught. the thought of someone discovering them sends a dark thrill through him. leaning over your shoulder, he nips at your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks making a sharp cry tears from your throat as toji bites down on your neck, his teeth sinking deep enough to draw blood. his free hand snakes around to rub your clit in firm circles, pushing you closer to the land of climax and pleasure just for a second. “gonna fill this tight pussy up, ma,” he growls, his voice low and rough with arousal.

the pain only heightens your pleasure, making your inner walls clench greedily around his pistoning cock. the bamboo structure creaks ominously under your frenzied coupling, but toji doesn’t care. all that matters is claiming you right here, right now, consequences be damned. you whimper, your head thrown back against his chest as he assaults your sensitive flesh with his fingers and mouth. the knowledge that you are so close to being discovered only fuels the fire raging within you.

your hips buck wildly, meeting each of toji’s powerful thrusts as he drives into you with primal intensity. the wet slap of skin on skin echoes through the small, tiny, wee space, mingling with your ragged breathing and toji’s guttural grunts. toji’s arms snake around your slippery skin for the nth time, to press firmly against your belly, encouraging you to arch into him, to meet his thrusts head-on— bend your stomach deeper into the bulge of his thick cock that peeks at your abandonment.

“fuck yeah— come on ma, i know you can do it,” toji snarls, pounding into you with reckless abandon. he can feel your body starting to tighten around him, and it spurs him on. he wants to push you over the edge, make you scream his name for all to hear. fingers dancing lower, he roughly pinches your clit, rubbing it between his fingers in harsh, rapid circles. at the same time, he leans in close, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he whispers filthy promises. “gonna cum so deep inside you, mark you as mine. everyone will know who you belong to.”

# RYOMEN SUKUNA

whimpers softly, overwhelmed by the intense sensation of being filled so completely by sukuna’s enormous cocks. tears continue to stream down your cheeks— struggle to even do as much as catch your breath, each thrust sending waves of pleasure-pain crashing through you.

# NANAMI KENTO

panting heavily, i manage a weak, “my lord. .” your voice is barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin and sukuna’s lewd grunts of satisfaction. his twice or three times bigger mouth on his stomach lick the small of your back— it smirks, your cunt can feel it.

sukuna chuckles darkly at your feeble attempt to address him properly, his four arms gripping you tighter as he pounds into you relentlessly. the tongue on his stomach licks up your spine, leaving a trail of saliva that tingles on your sensitive skin. his upper pair of hands reach around to grasp your breasts, squeezing and kneading them roughly as he fucks you harder. the third hand slides down to rub your clit, making sure to hit that sweet spot with every stroke.

“foolish mortal,” he sneers, his voice low and menacing. “you should be grateful i deign to use you for my pleasure. your pitiful cries only spur me on.” one of his hands slides around to fondle your breast roughly, pinching and twisting your nipple between his fingers. his other hand reaches down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, forcing your body to respond despite your mind’s protests.

cries out sharply as sukuna tweaks your nipple, the sudden jolt of pain mixing with the overwhelming pleasure from his cocks and touch. “ah! m-my lord, please...” your hips buck involuntarily, meeting his thrusts as his skilled hands work to push you closer to the edge. “this is— too much, i-i can’t...”

trembling, you clench around the thick cocks stretching your inner walls, desperate for some respite but knowing it won’t come anytime soon. “just- just give me a moment, i need...” your eyes hooded, half-heartedly open and find the open garden surrounded you, few of his servants passed by— yet, despite them didn’t have enough the courage to look directly, the voice of skin roughly kiss, your desperate-slutty moan, and sukuna’s rough grumble was obvious.

sobbing quietly, you try to gather your fragmented thoughts, dreading what further degradation or humiliation sukuna might inflict upon you once he’s finished using your body for his twisted amusement. sukuna laughs cruelly at your pleas, his tone dripping with sadistic glee. “a moment? how quaint. you think you have control over this?”

instead, he speeds up his pace, the wet sounds of his cocks pistoning in and out of you growing louder. the tongue on his stomach slithers up to your ear, licking the shell before whispering, “i think you need to learn your place, silly mortal. and if begging for mercy is what it takes...”

his fourth arm moves to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. “perhaps a little choking will help you focus on the present. now, beg properly. beg me to let you cum, to grant you this fleeting pleasure.”

the hand on your clit intensifies its ministrations, rubbing circles that send sparks of ecstasy shooting through your nerves. with that, he redoubles his efforts, slamming his cocks deep inside you with brutal force. the sounds of flesh meeting flesh echo through the garden, mingling with your choked sobs and the occasional gasp from passing servants who can’t help but steal glances at the depraved scene.

the servant who dared to glance your way quickly looks away, not wanting to meet sukuna’s wrathful gaze. they all know better than to disturb their master when he’s indulging in such carnal pleasures. sukuna tightens his grip around your throat slightly, his smirk growing wider as he watches the effect it has on you. he leans in close, his hot breath washing over your ear as he whispers, “look at them, pet. can you see how they’re staring? envious of the privilege i’m granting you, of the pleasure you get to experience at my hands.”

his fingers dig into your neck, applying just enough pressure to make your vision blur at the edges. “they wish they could be in your position right now, don’t they? wishing they could feel my cocks inside them, wishing they could hear their own desperate moans echoing through the garden.”

your vision starts to blur from lack of oxygen as sukuna tightens his grip around your throat. panic sets in as you claw at his wrist, desperate for air. he chuckles darkly, amused by your struggles. just as you're about to pass out, sukuna releases his hold, allowing you to gulp in a ragged breath. he watches with perverse fascination as you tremble and wheeze, your body still wracked by the aftershocks of his relentless pounding.

sukuna’s hand on your clit becomes a blur of motion, rubbing and pinching in a relentless rhythm designed to drive you to the brink of insanity.

he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close as he rocks into you slowly. his voice is low and husky, filled with desire even as he tries to keep things discreet. with his other hand, he gently cup your cheek, tilting your face up towards him, thumb brushing across your lips as he tries to silence your pleasured moans. “shh, my love... i know it feels amazing, but we need to be quiet so no one knows what we’re doing here.”

his brown eyes filled with adoration and lust, blend like a mix of cocktails under the dim blue and purple bar lights. “i want to hear you, but not like this. let me take care of you when we get home, okay? right now, just relax for me...” he punctuates his words with a deep, slow thrust, making you gasp despite yourself. his deep voice is a soothing whisper against your ear as he rocks his hips. one after another while keeping his hard length buried within your cunt. “just focus on how good i make you feel, okay? let me take care of everything.”

your body shudders at the intensity of his words, his touch igniting sparks that race through your veins. you nod frantically, unable to form coherent responses over the crescendo of pleasure building inside you. instead, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling into his warmth as you cling to him desperately.

your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, more pressure against your sensitive clit. you can’t help the whimpers that escape, muffled against his skin, as he continues to stroke that perfect spot deep within you. each deliberate thrust sends waves of ecstasy crashing over you, threatening to consume you whole and drowning you all the way.

desperate to stifle the sounds of your desperation, you press your mouth to his throat, sucking gently on the pulse point there. the subtle pain mixes with the overwhelming pleasure. the sound of music and everyone push painfully far away to the back of your head, and everything becomes grey with how much the sounds of nanami’s breathing kissing your ear. all warm, soft and just him. “baby..”

he inhales sharply as you suck on his throat, the sudden rush of sensation sending a jolt straight to his aching cock. his grip on you tightens reflexively, fingers digging into your hip bones as he struggles to maintain control. the urge to claim you harder, faster, more forcefully is almost overwhelming, but he resists, determined to please you rather than succumb to base instinct.

with a herculean effort, he steadies his movements, focusing on long, slow strokes designed to stretch and fill you without jarring you against the seat or drawing unwanted attention. he lets out a low groan, the sound vibrating against your ear as he fights to hold back his own climax. “my love... the love of my life,” he breathes, the endearment barely audible over the thumping bass.

overwhelmed by the intense sensations coursing through every fiber of your being, you can only whimper and tremble in nanami’s arms. the steady rhythm of his thrusts, the heat of his body enveloping yours, the sweet ache of his fingers digging into your flesh— it all blends together into an exquisite symphony of pleasure.

it was painfully slow, but when he was sensing your impending release, nanami’s hands begin to roam your body, tracing the curves of your waist, the swell of your breasts, before coming to rest on your thighs. he spreads them wider, angling his hips to hit that magical spot inside you with precision. the added pressure sends you spiraling toward the edge, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his thick length.

nanami’s eyes darken with lust as he watches you lose yourself in pleasure, your body tensing and trembling in his grasp. he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, swallowing the desperate little noises you make. his tongue dances with yours, matching the rhythm of the loud music, alsooo, mirroring the rhythm of his hips as he continues to stroke into you, hitting that sweet spot again and again.

# SHIU KONG

he breaks the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat, nibbling and sucking marks into your tender skin. “so beautiful,” he murmurs against your flesh, his voice heavy with desire. “i could look at you forever.” his hands slide higher, cupping your breasts through the fabric of your top. he thumbs your nipples, coaxing them to hardness as he teases and plucks at the sensitive buds.

breathless, eyes wide with excitement and guilt as you look around at your secluded spot amidst the bamboo forest. gasp as another wave of pleasure crashes over you from your thick cock stretching your velvet walls. eyes flustered closed while your fingers curled up, wrapping the fabric of his suit around.

“fuck, it feels so good...“ you start moving faster on top of him, riding him harder as the thrill of getting caught only heightens your arousal. you lean down to capture his lips in a passionate kiss, moaning into his mouth as you continue to bounce on his lap, your breasts jiggling with each thrust. “we’re being so naughty out here in the open... what if someone walks by and catches us in the act?” you asked, tone nonchalant so the heartbeat once you pull away.

a low groan escapes shiu’s throat, feels your tight heat gripping his cock tighter with each hard ride. his hands grip your hips, guiding you to fuck yourself on him even deeper— panting heavily, he looks up at you with lust-filled eyes.

“let ’em,” he rasps, his voice husky with desire. “i want everyone to see how badly i’m fucking you right now.” shiu’s fingers dig into your flesh, pulling you down to slam your cunt onto his shaft again and again. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the quiet woods, mixing with your high-pitched moans and his deep growls.

“you’re so goddamn sexy like this,” he whispers, his hot breath fanning across your ear. “riding my dick in public, not giving a damn who sees...” your body trembles as shiu’s words, intensifying the burning need within you. you throw your head back, lost in the ecstasy of being taken so roughly, so publicly. each harsh thrust makes you cry out, your voice carrying through the stillness of the bamboo grove.

“sooo dirty,” you tease between giggling, grinding your clit against him as you impale yourself on his thick cock. your hands slide up your sides to cup your breasts, squeezing and tugging at your nipples as you continue to ride shiu with wild abandon. leaning down, you capture his lips once more, kissing him deeply as you move, your tongues tangling in a heated dance.

shiu meets your fervent kisses with equal passion, his tongue delving deep into your mouth as he devours you whole. his large hands roam your curves, squeezing and kneading your supple flesh as he drinks in every moan and whimper that spills from your lips. few seconds and he breaking the kiss to trails his mouth along your jawline, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. “mmm, such a naughty girl,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with approval. “wants to get caught, huh? wants everyone to know you’re mine.”

shiu’s fingers find their way beneath the hem of your shirt, skimming up your stomach to pinch and roll your hardened nipples. he watches intently as you writhe above him, your breasts bouncing with each frenzied movement. one hand leaves your hip to palm your breast, thumbing your nipple through the fabric of your shirt before slipping beneath to tease the hardened bud directly. you let out a sharp gasp as shiu’s skilled fingers play with your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

“mmm, feel that, doll?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with lust. “your tits are so sensitive, i bet they’d be perfect for my mouth.” the sensation of his warm breath on your skin and his filthy words make you ache for more. “please!” you beg, arching your back to push your chest further into his touch.

with a wicked grin, shiu pulls your shirt up and off, revealing your heaving breasts to the cool air and his hungry gaze. he wastes no time, taking one pert nipple into his mouth and suckling greedily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.

you moan loudly, head thrown back in bliss as he lavishes attention on your other breast, pinching and rolling the neglected nipple between his fingers. shiu releases your nipple with a wet pop, leaving it glistening and swollen. he gazes up at you with dark, lustful eyes, his own chest heaving with exertion.

“that’s it, baby,” he coaxes, his voice rough with desire. “make some noise for me. let everyone know how much you love having my cock buried deep inside you.” he punctuates his words with a particularly forceful thrust, making you cry out in pleasure. shiu grins, pleased with himself.

leaning forward, he takes your other nipple into his mouth, suckling and nibbling until you’re squirming and mewling above him. his free hand slides down your side, tracing the curve of your hip before dipping lower to rub at your clit in slow, deliberate circles.

“you’re so close, aren’t you?”

[drdemonprince]

If you’ve never been all that disobedient before, you can and should start really, really small. For example, you can wear the slightly revealing or gloriously trashy-looking garment that makes your mom roll her eyes and sigh despondently every time she sees you put it on. You will feel judged and disapproved of when you put it on, but that is fine. Your goal is to sit with the uncomfortable feelings and continue with your desired behavior anyway.  Saunter down the steps in that highlighter-yellow Garfield crop top with your chest hair flowing over the neckline, and harness as much courage as you can muster. It’s okay if you feel like a beacon of sin. Just keep it moving. Your emotions are not the target here. Your behavior is. You can feel however you are feeling in the moment so long as you keep acting like you’re free.  Do you have a favorite TV show that a partner or roommate vocally hates? Try watching that show around them without apologizing or defensively joining them in mocking the program. At first, you probably won’t be able to enjoy the show while in their presence. You’ll feel self-conscious about everything they find annoying or cringe-inducing about the show, and so focused on their reactions that you can’t relax. That’s okay. Allow those feelings of embarrassment and guilt to exist and pass through you without giving up. In time, you will be able to ignore these reactions more, and enjoy the activity.  You want to see the needle of discomfort moving down just a little, like Link’s body temperature meter in Tears of the Kingdom when he puts on a breathable outfit in a hot climate. You’re not gonna go from roiling hot to frosty cold in an instant. But after a certain point, you won’t be actively in pain anymore. Things are just gonna slowly suck less, bit by bit, until they are finally okay. That’s true of most major life adjustments, I find.  Probably the best way to develop self-advocacy skills while growing in your distress tolerance is simply by telling other people no. Do this without explanation or hedging. Nitpicky aunt wants to hear all about your dating life? “No, I don’t want to talk about that.” Unreliable ex-friend wants you to do them the tiny favor of moving their entire home gymnasium into a new third story walk-up? “No, I’m not available.” Manipulative shift supervisor wants to cajole you into sticking around for another three hours to close? “No.”  As many advice columnists smarter than me have already intoned, “no” is a complete sentence. “No” requires no explanation. “No” is not subject to debate. “No” can be repeated over and over like a broken record if a disrespectful person acts like they can’t hear it. And you can walk away at any time to make your “no” physical and impossible to argue with, when someone has proven they don’t respect your boundaries. 

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