#just struggling with feeling excited about it

[mulloey]

so like… mtl likely to participate in hardcore cnc kink with the reader?

like, I think jun would be open to it because he’s good at acting and seems really observant but I’d like to see what your thoughts are on it and why ^-^

cnc with seventeen

first of all thanks to my girl @my-favefics for helping me with this!! and for getting me into writing svt in the first place.

this will be posted in three parts, beginning with the most eager and ending with the ones who might need a little convincing for it:)

warnings: cnc, rape roleplay, heavy dom/sub, the word ‘rape’ is used, fear play, manhandling, belting etc. this is intense. you’ve been warned. i’m not your babysitter and hate is blocked.

part one: the freaks

everything about cnc just screams seungcheol. he naturally assumes a dominant role over you, and he gets off on it too. the head rush he gets when you submit, giving yourself to him completely is comparable only to what he gets on stage—except with you, it’s so much more delicious. because you would let him do anything.

but what if he didn’t want you to let him?

what if he wanted you to struggle? what if he wanted to have to hold you down and force you to obey?

at first he’s disgusted with himself for having these thoughts. he feels like a terrible person, sick in the worst sense when he imagines you trying pathetically to fight him off, cowering and terrified when he finally subdues you. tears in your eyes as you beg him not to do this. beg him not to hurt you.

when he finally gathers the courage to bring it up he’s beyond nervous; stammering and shaking and refusing to meet your eyes until you grab his hand and nudge his face up to meet yours. “i wanna try it, cheollie,” you say.

silence, for a moment. “really?”

“yeah.”

you catch the glint in his eyes when he looks up at you; the darkness. the smile that grows on his face is nothing less than a warning.

he wouldn’t really be interested in the role play side of things; he doesn’t want to chase you down or break into the house with a knife. no, it wouldn’t do it for him if he were a stranger to you—it has to be him. you have to reject him. you have to be overpowered by him. you have to fear him—because it’s him. because you know the power he wields and all the things he’s capable of.

maybe he’ll make a move while you’re on the couch or in bed; you’ll make a show of pushing him off, hiding your excitement as you tell him you’re just not in the mood right now. and he’ll just tilt his head, cocking an eyebrow quizzically as he stares at you like you’ve just said something ridiculous. offensive, even.

“oh?” he says. “you’re saying no to me now? who taught you that, baby?”

“i have the right to say no, seungcheol.” you try to sound firm but your voice wobbles and his eyes flash with delight. “it’s my body.”

“oh is it?” he chuckles, a deep sound; and nothing about the man in front of you is the loving and considerate person he was seconds ago. “you really don’t know how this works, huh?”

“how what works?”

he moves quickly, pinning you to the couch and hovering over you like prey. “you let me have you,” he breathes. “you let me take you. that means i own you, baby. and you don’t say no to your owner.”

your breath hitches, adrenaline pulsing; despite your knowledge and delight at what’s happening a very real fear begins to pulsate as you kick and squirm under his grip, but he’s so strong he barely seems to notice. “this isn’t fucking funny, seungcheol,” you say. “i don’t like this.”

“poor thing,” he coos. “she doesn’t like this, huh? you know i could make this a lot worse for you, don’t you?”

“stop, cheol. please, i don’t—”

the strength of the slap seems to take you both by surprise; his eyes widen and you cry out, clutching your cheek but it only spurs him on. “you need to learn some respect,” he spits. “need to learn some fucking manners.”

you put up a good fight, of course; you kick and thrash and fight until your body gives out but he’s so much stronger than you—and if he has to physically drag you into position himself, or gag you with your own panties to stop you from screaming for help? then he fucking will.

it’s about time you learned your place.

—

you've always known jeonghan had a bit of a fear kink. and by a bit—well, he goes crazy for it. completely feral at the idea of you cowering beneath him; flinching when he raises his hand; reacting physically to his little displays of power.

it's his favourite game and it's yours too. it came up fairly early in your relationship; when you were just staring to explore more... extreme kinks, and had become aware of just how fucked up you both were. how much you loved it when he hit just a little too hard; used a bit too much pressure: pushed you just a little too far. he felt the way you'd clench around him when you broke down and cried; when he'd whisper threats in your ear and feel the pulse of fear rush through you.

so of course he wants to push it further. so do you.

so you don’t know why you’re so surprised when he comes up to you one day and asks if you want to play this new game he’s been thinking of.

from the look in his eye you have an inkling of what it might be; a hint of something so fucked up and depraved you’re the only person he could ever say it to. and you’re right, of course, as you usually are with him—but even you’re taken aback to hear the words “i want to rape you” come from his mouth.

“oh,” you whisper.

he raises an eyebrow, staring expectantly, if a little nervously at you. “what do you think?”

“it… in what context?” you ask.

“i mean… it wouldn’t be real, baby. you’d have a safeword. i just wanna… fuck.” he shakes his head, cheeks flushed already and it makes you pulse. he really, really wants this.

“wanna what?” you prompt.

“i wanna see you scared, pretty girl. like really, really terrified.”

oh. yes. you want to see that too.

he doesn’t tell you when he’s going to do it; wants it to be a surprise, he says. but you get a bit of a clue a few days later, when he reminds you seven times in the same morning what your safeword is.

still, for his sake you pretend to be surprised when the large presence behind you suddenly clamps a hand over you mouth and drags you over to the wall; slamming you into it with brute strength. there’s danger in his eyes; excitement on a level you’ve never seen and his dick is straining against his pants. “what do we have here?” he smiles. “walking around all pretty like that.” his eyes flicker down to your attire; the loose tshirt and panties clinging to your hips. “you were waiting for me, weren’t you?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking abou—”

he cuts you off with a hand around your throat, holding you in place with enough pressure to set your heart racing. “don’t lie,” he croons. “i know all about you, baby. i know how sluts dress when they’re wanting some attention.”

“i’m not lying.” you spit it through gritted teeth and his lips curl into a smile; somehow sweet and nauseating at the same time.

“well, let’s check, hm?”

you were definitely lying—you wore those pretty little panties you know he loves just to provoke him. unfortunately for you, your pussy does not lie, and when he slips two fingers into your panties his face tells you the jig is up.

“oh dear,” he muses. “i think you were lying, baby. i think you need to learn to tell the truth.”

“learn?” you echo. “how?”

his smile widens. “you ever had your ass fucked, dolly?”

that’s your cue, you decide; you shove him off you with all your strength and make a mad dash for the living room. he just watches you, amused more than irritated—he knows you’ve no chance of overpowering or escaping him. you just need to make a good attempt at it so you can feel like you resisted; can pretend you’re not just as aching for it as he is.

your tears don’t fool him; the sobbed pleas not to hurt you too much, not to do this, i’ll give you whatever you want, just please not this. they only spur him on—make his hips buck and his grip tighten on you. seeing you cry and writhe beneath him only makes him even more determined to destroy you—to ruin you in ways only he knows how. to make it hurt.

and he’d never tell you, but he was always a bit of a masochist too, so the cuts and scratches you leave while he subdues you only makes that first strangling squeeze of your asshole around his dick feel that much better.

—

minghao loves it when you cry. he really, really fucking loves it. to see you break down underneath him, calling his name pathetically between sobs; to see the tears on your face; the red cheeks and helpless eyes—to know that he’s the one who caused it all. there’s nothing like it on earth.

he wants to see you completely fucking broken. you’ve known it for a while now; you were just waiting for him to make the move.

he catches your arm one day as you’re walking past; pulling you towards him with a small smile. “by the way, sweetheart,” he purrs. “your safeword is turkey. don’t forget it.”

“why?” you giggle, sort of half-knowing already.

“because, pet,” he whispers. “from now on, unless you say that word… when you tell me stop, tell me too much, tell me it hurts… i’m gonna keep going. gonna use you til i’m satisfied. now doesn’t that sound fun?”

it really fucking does.

and once this new arrangements of yours is firmly established? he only gets more sadistic. he hits you harder, chokes you harder; drags you into alleyways and public bathrooms with a hand over your mouth just because he can. because you love it.

he’s been fucking you for what feels like hours now. you’re in the bed at least; a small mercy given how fond he’s become lately of forcing you onto all fours on the floor and fucking you until your knees are red and raw. but now your legs are stretched painfully as he holds them firmly on his shoulders and he’s drilling into you so hard it’s painful; saying such horrible things that it all just feels… too much.

and at the same time, it’s nowhere near enough.

but you know exactly what to say to get him to go harder.

“minghao.” you force the word out of your throat, raw and irritated from his earlier abuse. “stop.”

“what did you say?” he asks, not even slowing down for a second. “stop?”

“please, hao.”

he laughs, a sharp, bitter sound. “insolent little brat,” he grunts. “fucking bitch, you think you get to decide that? we’re done when i say we’re done, whore.”

“n-no,” you cry. you try to struggle, writhing under his grip and he slams his hand down on your clit, making you scream.

“yes,” he snarls. “shut up and take it, fuckdoll. this is my fucking pussy and i’ll use it until i’m done.”

you’re sobbing now, hot tears streaming down your face and he leans over you; eyes dark and delighted. “oh, that’s it,” he coos. “let it out, honey. i’ll take care of you. i’m gonna break your pretty brain until there’s nothing left.”

you can’t even talk now, too overwhelmed to think as the pace and force of his thrusts only quickens; you feel like you’re being split open, all your senses in overdrive and your entire body in pain and you’ve never, ever been more turned on.

he can tell.

“good girl,” he mutters. “so fucking wet for me. don’t worry, honey. i’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

he does.

—

if there’s one thing that gets wonwoo off, it’s your size difference. doesn’t matter how big; he just adores it. he adores the way you look so tiny and fragile under him; how small your hand looks in his—how easy it would be to overpower you with his big, strong body.

but how easy would it be, if you actually put up a fight?

you never really have—you love it when he manhandles you; when holds you down, uses his size against you, so you’ve never really resisted it. the only taste he’s ever had of a true fight are those little play fights you have from time to time; stupid, half-heated fighting for stupid reasons. but even that was enough of a taste to drive him absolutely wild. he needs more. he needs to win you.

“sweetheart,” he calls for you as he walks into your apartment after work. you come running immediately as you always do, pulling him into a hug and he laughs. “hi, honey. you—”

you pull away suddenly, just enough to peer up at him with those wide, innocent eyes, and all else is forgotten. you look so small like this. he can’t wait any longer. he won’t.

“fuck,” he curses. you raise an eyebrow, head tilting. “baby. tiny girl.”

“yeah?” fuck, your voice is so soft. so weak.

“sweetheart. i wanna try something new with you.”

“o…okay.” you sound confused; a little nervous—good. you should be. “what is it, woo?”

“i want you to fight me off.”

the silence is thick and painful and never ending as he awaits your response; you blink once, twice, three times as you process what he’s said to you. “fight you off?” you repeat. “like, in sex?”

you don’t sound disgusted, at least—just unsure exactly what he’s asking you. he hums, nodding his head. "i want to overpower you, baby," he says. "i wanna earn that pussy—fight for it, you know? wanna see you struggle."

fuck. you do know, now that you think about it. "yeah," you say. "i think i wanna try it."

"yeah?" he grins, demeanour shifting; it amazes you sometimes, how quickly he can let the nerves fall away and fully envelop himself in what he's doing. "you wanna fight me off, baby?"

“yeah.” you swallow, lightheaded already. “i wanna.”

“good girl.”

you’re half expecting him to pounce on you straight away, but instead he presses a kiss to your forehead and walks off. you decide not to question him; knowing your boyfriend, he’s already got this planned out to the letter, and by the sounds of it, waiting and wandering when he’s going to strike is half the point.

but if he thinks taking you by surprise will make you easy to subdue, he’s dead fucking wrong.

the moment his hand closes over your mouth some days later, you’re ready; adrenaline kicks in instantly and you shove back against him; your hands fly up to claw at his forearm where he’s wrapped it around your neck, pressing against your throat with just enough pressure to make you panic. “come on, easy, easy baby.” his voice is soft, soothing and it fools no one. “don’t struggle, you know i don’t like it when you struggle.”

a lie, of course—his dick is rock hard and pressed against your ass, twitching each time you thrash and struggle against him. he loves his—even loves it when you bite down on his palm hard enough to draw blood.

“fuck,” he curses; he pulls his hand away from your mouth but the arm against your throat is more than enough to keep you still as he yanks your head back to meet his eyes.

the face that stares back at you is unlike you’ve ever seen it; none of the love and tenderness you can usually find even in the most intense of scenes—rather pure, uncompromising darkness. ice.

“you bitch,” he spits. “fuck, i was gonna be nice to you, y’know, was even gonna let you cum a few times but you obviously can’t behave.”

“fuck you,” you grunt. when his grip loosens momentarily you try to make a run for it but he just laughs, pulling you back into him as easily as if you were a tiny puppy who’d wriggled out of its leash.

“i don’t think so, doll,” he says. “you don’t run from me. now be good and i won’t have to hurt you too much, yeah?”

the answer is no, obviously, just as he wanted it to be—it doesn’t stop him from holding you by the hair and belting your ass raw while you cry and squirm on his cock, though.

doesn’t stop you from loving every second of it, either.

—

[fixyourwritinghabits]

How do I know which WIP to choose to work on when I have plenty of them all in the stage of being half baked?

Here's the thing. You're halfway there. You're running the bakery, you've got a dozen of things to pop in the oven. You just need to choose one to work with until it's a finished pie.

Which project 'speaks' to you the most? Say you have five possible pies in front of you. You like all the flavors, you know they're going to end up good. But which one really excites you? Which one do you think about the most when you're not working on it? That's probably the WIP to go with. That's the energy you'll need to see it through to the end.

Which project feels the most fleshed out? Another thing to consider is how much plot and framework you already have down. Those vague ideas, first chapter starts, and intriguing concepts may seem solid, but the more work you've already got down, the more progress you'll be able to make.

Which project are you struggling the least with? There's a Nano project I really like the concept of. I've got two-thirds of the first draft written. But what I don't have is the underlying theme. I haven't figured out how to connect the concept to the characters yet. One of these days I will, but I have other stories to get done first. Focusing on the project you know you can figure out is probably the best choice to make.

Here's the last and most important point: You need to stick with that chosen project until completion. This is not a absolute rule. I will not burst through your bedroom window like Slenderman if you decide you can't finish it.

But you gotta try to stick through it. Getting the draft done is the hardest part of the process, and seeing it through to the end before you look at your next project is going to help you form the habit of finishing your work. All those books on the shelf, good and bad, have one thing in common - they got finished. The only way to do that is to stick through the process.

That's why you need to weigh your WIPs carefully. The ones that don't have much to them yet might need more time to proof in the dark recesses of your mind. Others might be far more ready for completion, but you're not giving them the attention they need in favor of all those shiny new ideas.

Pick your pie flavor, and make real sure you're ready to eat it again and again over the course of the next few months. You will hit some walls. You will get frustrated. But you can only finish your WIP one at a time.

[rauferes]

One of these days I'll finish my oneshot where Rook has had the worst day and asks Emmrich for like, an hour of sex to feel better about it, and then Emmrich laughs and self-deprecatingly says that they won't have to worry about him coming too soon, given his age.

And Rook takes that as a challenge.

***

Emmrich was definitely still thinking too much. Rook backed up, settling comfortably between his legs. Emmrich took a sharp breath in.

“I thought you wanted to be taken care of,” Emmrich said.

“Mm,” Rook hummed, unhurriedly taking Emmrich into their hand. They watched him predatorily as they pumped him slowly, twisting their hand near the head. Emmrich groaned, eyes closing.

“Changed my mind,” Rook said, with a slow, dangerous smile.

“Are you sure, darling?” Emmrich pressed.

His voice was a touch breathless. A shiver went up Rook’s spine.

“I’m sure. A handsome man at my mercy… I’m quite happy where I am,” Rook purred.    

Emmrich’s lips parted, a flash of surprise, and then pleasure, showing in his eyes. It was followed instantly by his shoulders hunching in, just a fraction, and Rook could see that he was about to brush off the compliment.

“Not half as handsome as—oh.”

Emmrich’s smooth, suave tone broke as Rook delicately stretched his foreskin, rolling it over his cockhead.

“Gorgeous,” Rook insisted. “With a voice that could make a saint weep.”

“It’s kind of you to—mm!” Emmrich bit his lip, hard, arching off the bed as Rook twisted again, rubbing the underside of his cock the way Emmrich liked best.

“Absurdly handsome,” Rook insisted. “Refined. Elegant. Irresistible.”

Emmrich licked his lips nervously.

“Thank you?” Emmrich said, in a voice so tentative that it sounded like a question.

Rook smiled, wide and sharp. Their partner, it must be said, was rather quick on the uptake.

Emmrich shivered as if Rook mouth had done something as filthy and exciting as their hands. A flush was rising in his cheeks, and he shifted restlessly against the sheets.

Rook kept going, tortuously slow. Emmrich’s hips began to roll into Rook’s strokes, the muscles of his thighs tightening. A drop of precum dripped slowly down his length. His heavy-lidded gaze rested heavily on Rook, alternating between their hands and their face.

“Enjoying yourself?” Rook asked him.

Rook watched him struggle to string words together, and fail.

“Yes,” Emmrich said, wholeheartedly.

Friction would be a problem soon, but Rook wanted to go a lot longer than that. In their impulsive idea, Rook hadn’t thought to fetch lube—but they really, really didn’t want to get up at this point.

They took Emmrich down their throat, savoring the first taste of him—musky and human. Emmrich let out a strangled sound, his whole body arching.

Rook stroked his hip as they took up a pace that they could keep up for ages.

Their jaw hadn’t even begun to ache when Emmrich’s heels dug into the mattress. He pressed his hips desperately upwards, making incoherent noises.

“Rook,” Emmrich said raggedly, and Rook knew that he was ready to concede stamina might be an issue after all.

Rook raised their head. “Mm?”

Raw, frustrated desire flashed on Emmrich’s face. It swiftly gave way to relief that he wouldn’t finish then and there.

Rook gave him just enough time to come down from the edge before taking him into their mouth again. Rook teased the head of Emmrich’s cock, as unhurried as if Emmrich wasn’t already thoroughly wound up. They lavished attention on the sensitive underside. Emmrich stopped breathing, only to start up again completely uneven, hyperventilating.

[catras-breakup-song]

catradora's canon status turns 5 today. i also turn 20 today. 🪅

i've spent an entire quarter of my life, a whopping 25% of it now, loving the center focus of she-ra and what this show teaches us...

it's actually pretty wild for me to think too deeply about. truly, it can't not mean something absolutely special (if i love myself, of course) when that much of a coincidence is actually reality.

this story isn't just a hyperfixation, it's a permanent part of who i am. it's shaped my later teenage years and helped me through hard times consisting of confusion and loneliness. i resonated better with catra & glimmer than any other fictional characters i had known before or would ever know since then. i found the art style soothing to stare at all the time. i appreciated the words of comfort we're supposed to internalize. it's been a consistent source of familiarity when i needed nothing more than to rewatch the same scenes repeatedly.

the online community surrounding western queer animation, and particularly this piece of media, kickstarted my hobby of collecting video edits, up to the thousands, that many talented creators have made, on an external drive. unfortunately i lost that project over the summer last year and it devastated me deeply, however i never stopped keeping track of my favorites and supporting the works i loved as i continued coming across them, such as this one to “the great war” by @somanypetals, which i will never stop recommending to others here ─ you can also go through my tag for this topic if you'd like! in fact, i also got back into video editing myself for the first time since 2021 last month!

additionally, it wouldn't be an authentic CBS post of mine if i didn't highlight how beautiful five by five takes' analysis videos on youtube are to me. their writing is a top-tier heart-wrenching gold mine and i've lost count of how many times i've rewatched through that playlist again and again. if you love this masterpiece as much as i do, you'll do so tenfold here. i still remember watching the first part of the series, "how she-ra gives us hope", when it was brand new, and i love bragging to fellow friends about being one of 5X5T's earliest subscribers from this fandom!

i (sort of but not really, which is a long complicated story on its own), came from the traumatized wave of angry voltron/KL fans. thankfully i didn't struggle with trusting the writers to follow through on the groundwork they laid down because it had only been my first fandom and therefore i hadn't been hurt by queerbaiting multiple times, but i say this because it was a big deal when she-ra's finale showed something on screen that could not be taken away or undone. catra & adora's romance helped me find peace & pride in my lesbian attraction. although i ended up not being homosexual despite failing to realize it for another year, i am still very much sapphic and wouldn't trade that gift for the world!

speaking of which, one of the best things you can find in a partner is the relatability of a common interest that brings out the emotional connection between you. i've seen @bluedandylyon around before, but i got to know xim more closely on the SPOP creative flex discord server after i jumped in activity there about a month and a half ago (and i only started being active on this blog again after creating it in 2022 back in august last year, it's amazing what that did for me). the two of us genuinely could not have clicked better with anyone else and i believe we were always destined to stumble into each other eventually. i don't know why the universe decided that time was to be so recent, but after spending half a decade single it's been very exciting to finally leave that break behind. because of SPOP, i asked them if they wanted to date on lesbian visibility day (april 26) and something within me renewed to make me the happiest i've ever been! 💟

my thoughts are too scattered and unorganized for this to feel like a proper essay of some sort, but i know i needed to get this done in time and i enjoyed it. i can't appreciate enough how much my identity, the core essence of who i am inside, has been shaped by this 50-episode cartoon. a simple love letter could never cover how important this reboot means to so many people, even if mattel still refuses to acknowledge it. ⚔️🌈💖

[earthmoonz]

💖MAX KYLE 💖| style eras✨[click for hq]

in honour of wifey's 2nd birthday & inspired by @armoricaroyalty's amazing wardrobe analysis series, I thought I'd do a little look back at max from early adulthood until where they currently are in the story. (lena’s style has not changed nearly as much lol) costume design is one of my fav aspects of character development and I put a lot of effort into dressing my sim babies so I wanted to yap about it! (yapping under the cut!)

fresh faced! [2015] -  for much of max's adolescence they embrace a pretty standard uniform of graphic tees, skinny jeans + trainers. this doesn't really change for their first year of uni. in their youth they tended to value comfort over style (just autizzy things) but now they're experimenting with colour despite and beginning to emerge from their shell. having two mums means that max's own sexuality isn't a huge deal to them, but navigating the social aspect of it a different story entirely...

alt academic! [2016/17] - having made some friends (hello cleo! - not pictured), max is not immune to the goth-lite trends of the mid tens. they're hitting their stride academically and getting used parties and clubs. this is their first attempt at really exploring their femininity and soon they'll start to wonder if traditional womanhood is truly for them.

soft masc baby! [2017-19] - these years are where the more significant changes in max's style take place. 2017 is a big year for them. just as they begin exploring their gender identity, they meet their first ever girlfriend* (more on that later) and dressing more masc feels safe and exciting! they love how they're able to transform and their gf keeps saying how much hotter they look, but at as time goes on, max struggles with how they see their body under the baggier clothing. they're face with a question 'am I dressing like this for me or because of how others want me to be?'

chaos femme! [2019-20] - having graduated uni and endured their first big break up, max moves to san myshuno eager to reinvent themself. working as strip club bartender they begin dressing femme again, but this time with a sharper, moodier point of view. it's a lot of very high heels, mini skirts and c*nty wigs. almost every pic they post goes viral and they're fast becoming a fixture in san my's queer nightlife scene. this is max's single & chaotic era + this is also when they enter into a short -live but toxic romance with jade. they're working hard, partying harder but of course this lifestyle becomes hard to sustain and it's only a matter of time before it wears max out.

gay casual! [2020-23] - settled in san my, max has moved on from the dollhouse and found a literal home at the 'old salt bar' - an lgbtq hotspot both day and night. they've got a solid group of friends and are truly doing well for what feels like the first time in years. naturally their clothing returns to a brighter colour palette and this is where see them fall into their usual style of cropped tops, baggy trousers and chunky trainers. max's gender expression has more fluidity now and they start experimenting with a more fun, artsy style of make up with brightly dyed hair to match. it's clear now that max tends to mirror the environment they're in and it's clear that they're finally in an environment that feels right for them. unfortunately, they've little idea about the storm heading their way.

flux! [2023-] - this is the max we meet at wifey's beginning. they're in throes of grief but trying to bury it deep. their gender expression remains fluid but their overall style becomes less significant as more pressing matters take hold. this version of max is headed down a darkening path and when out in the world, they're more likely to dress to project confidence and intimidation which to them means a moodier colour palette. only time will tell if they're able to reconcile the innocence of their old self with the truth of their current one...

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 17: Hugs

Mushy May put together by the lovely @forlorn-crows <3

Swiss struggles with needing to be useful in the downtime between tours. Aether does his best to help. No warnings, 800 words.

divider by @ghuleh-recs <3

Aether is always happy to be home after the end of a tour. As much as he loves what he’s been brought to the surface to do, it’s always a relief to be stagnant for a while. Not have much expected of him outside of infirmary work with Omega. To sleep in his and Dew’s actual, proper bed with space to stretch his legs.

The Cardinal’s new ghouls get to learn such reliefs, and Aether smiles when Cumulus shows up late to breakfast with her hair messy and frizzy from sleep. When Rain comes in from a day in and out of the lake. When Cirrus brings books back from the library and spends an entire day reading through the stack.

Swiss, however, is a different story.

He has a visibly hard time adjusting back to life off of the road. He’s not standoffish or lashing out anymore, but he’s restless, desperately throwing himself wherever he thinks he may be needed. Doesn’t stop moving, working. He begs Aether to train him on working in the infirmary the moment Aether deems him acceptable with his quintessence magic. Aether even catches him in the band’s practice rooms working through the setlist they’d just spent months playing nearly every night.

He, very gently, takes the guitar from Swiss’s hands, his claws cracked and blunt from using his hands so much, and puts it away. “Sparkler, come back to the den with me?” Aether whispers, helping Swiss to his feet. “We don’t need to work ourselves to the bone, we don’t need to earn rest.”

Swiss’s ears pin back to his head, jingling the new gold earrings the pack had gotten him during the last weeks of tour. “I- I need to be useful,” he shrugs. He says it so casually too, it makes something in Aether’s chest sting.

He knows, though he doesn’t know any of the big details, that something had happened to Swiss before he’d met the multighoul. Many things had happened. Even the summoning had nearly killed him, but Aether knows about that. He doesn’t know what happened before, and he doesn’t want to push.

Aether pulls Swiss to his feet, doesn’t let go of his hand. Tries to radiate comfort. He smooths a thumb over the back of his hand. “We were summoned for the Project. And when the Mouthpiece goes to speak to the people, that is when they need us. But the tour is over, and you did such a good job on your first tour, spark, but the tour is over, so they don’t need us to perform right now.”

Swiss nods. “Yeah, I know, that’s why I’m trying to help-”

Aether cuts him off by pulling him into a hug. Swiss goes tense and stiff, breathing hitching, and Aether almost lets him go before Swiss completely melts into it with a keen. Goes completely boneless in his arms, and if Aether had any less notice, he’d be scared he wouldn’t be able to catch him.

For what it’s worth, Aether holds him, solid and supportive. Swiss wraps his arms tight around him and buries his face in the crook of Aether’s neck, and he can feel the hot, shaky puffs of breath against his skin. When Aether inhales, his lungs fill with the sweet, spicy and almost herbal scent he’s come to associate with one of the newest members of his pack.

“We have to rest, too,” Aether whispers in his ear. “I was excited to get to know you outside of the Project, you know?”

Swiss chirps, a soft, curious sound that Aether hasn’t heard him make before. He doesn’t pull back from the crook of Aether’s neck.

“Yeah. I was. I still am. Can’t do that if I can’t find you, sparkler,” Aether whispers. He doesn’t make the conscious choice to, but he realizes slowly that he’s rocking Swiss gently where they stand. He tightens his hold on the multighoul, and Swiss starts to purr, shaky and quiet but undeniable.

“There we go, spark. Think you needed this,” Aether whispers, rubbing his back through his shirt.

“I- uh- hah-” Swiss laughs a little nervously before relaxing into Aether’s arms again. “I think so too.”

“I’m more than happy to give you this whenever you need it, Swiss,” Aether whispers. “But for now, come back to the den with me?”

“Yeah,” Swiss breathes. “Can- can I lay down with you when we get there? If Dew’s not too mad about that?”

Aether chuckles, chuffing low in his throat. “He’s not gonna be mad, spark. In fact, he might even want to join us.”

“That’d be nice,” Swiss whispers. His breathing has slowed, arms still tight around Aether’s chest. He can’t help himself but turn and press a soft kiss to his temple.

“Are you ready to go back to the den, spark?” Aether asks.

Swiss takes a deep breath. “Yeah, Aeth. Please take me home?”

Aether grins. “It would be my pleasure.”

[angellicxx]

Steady - Benjamin “Dex” Poindexter x Rookie FBI Reader

summary: As a new FBI agent, you’re paired with Dex for your first mission manning a sniper’s nest. Your aversion for each other has you both struggling with staying on objective and following the rules.

warnings: Gun, unprotected sex, smut, semi-public sex, bruises, scratching, strong pull out game

a/n: first smut let's goooo

w.c: 3,400

You were new to the unit.

A fresh graduate from Quantico, you proudly wore your badge of Special Agent for the FBI with a smile. The other agents had been welcoming and kind; throwing out tips about the rugged New York streets, helping with the overwhelming paperwork— and even assigning a more experienced agent to show the ropes and keep a watchful eye on you.

Agent Benjamin Poindexter.

Even the name gave you chills.

When his dark eyes glared at you for the first time, greeting you with a raspy voice and that smug smirk, you knew it was going to be rough.

Unlike the other agents, Dex wasn’t that enthusiastic on helping a rookie.

Cocky and independent, you could tell he hated you.

It ruined his order of things.

He would always send you down to fetch his coffee or do some other chore he couldn’t be bothered with, anything to get you away from him. Yet whenever you weren’t next to him, obediently waiting and ready for the next task, you could feel his piercing gaze from a far, just in time to see him quickly look away when your eye caught his.

You could really feel his stare when he was assigned to man the sniper position with you.

One of your first ever real missions; keeping watch during a high profile event where some underground crime network might attend, of course you were thrilled— until you found out you were going to be stuck with Dex all night.

The job was easy, if things went south while the other agents were in the building, the sniper would take out the problem from an isolated distance.

The kind superior he was, Dex of course gave you the honor of being the sniper—which was really just lookout and a punishment for ruining his night. The bright streets of Midtown were alive with distant sirens and pedestrian chatter echoing off the buildings. Too bad you had to enjoy it on a cold rooftop lying stomach down on the ground next to the one guy who hated you the most.

Six feet of Dex was towering next to you, completely engulfed in his work and eyes rarely leaving the building through his telescope. Your bones had began to ache— your hips had been digging into the floor for the past hour and your arms were tired from gripping the rifle, which was positioned on a tripod at the edge of the roof. You were becoming dizzy from the height, multiple stories and the cold concrete being the only thing separating you from falling whenever the wind shifted.

It was late, but you didn’t know how long this event was going to last and if things were going to even get exciting. As far as you knew, you would be stuck like this next to Dex until dawn.

After a while of staring at the windows and entrance, you began scanning the New York skyline, trying to name as many familiar buildings as possible.

Just when you were adjusting the sights to see the Brooklyn Bridge, a rasped voice pierced the silence.

“Do you even know how to handle that thing?”

You pulled back, looking up to see Dex had lowered his telescope and was now watching you.

“If you didn’t know if I could handle it, why give me the gun?”

He only shook his head. “Stop messing with it, its not a toy from your training.”

“I’m not.”

Your objection was no use. You could see that smug look in his eye through the dark, peering down at you like an ant near his boot.

“Then take a practice shot, rookie.”

A nervous feeling formed in your gut at the future criticism that was bound to happen.

“We’re not authorized to fire unless its for authorized force.”

Dex was almost surprised at your defiance. “I’m your superior, you can do what I say or leave. There’s not going to be any action anyways.” He sighed, putting the telescope back in the sniper case, crossing his arms over his chest with a patronizing smirk. “Now c’mon, lets see if you’re really the hot shot you think you are.”

You swallowed your pride for a moment, looking back into the scope and gripping the gun steady. You brought the sights back to the area, scanning the nearby rooftops for a target to hit.

There was a low groan of annoyance when Dex landed on his knees next to you. He took one close look at your form and position and scoffed.

“Lower.”

You rolled your eyes, shuffling your hip against the hard floor. “I can see.”

“No-” A rough hand pushed your shoulders, knocking your chest to the ground and nearly your jaw. “Here.”

You gritted your teeth to stifle the whimper at the hit to your ribs. “I got it.” You managed to hiss, nudging your shoulder to get his hand off of you.

“No, you don’t.”

Before you could fit another snide remark in, arms wrapped you— caging you to the ground and gun.

His broad forearms were on the concrete floor on both sides of you, biceps flexed and brushing against your numbing arms. Dex’s chest was hovering just above your flexed back, shifting his weight to draw closer to the scope.

His head loomed over your shoulder for his eye to reach down the sight, so close you could feel his breath on your cheek— hot and raspy. His knees were anchored to the ground next to you, the holsters and buckles of his belt dug into the side of your leg, your hip brushing his waist.

He felt close.

Way too close.

You were now pushed nearly face forward into the ground, your superior almost completely on top of you and so close you couldn’t tell if it was his heartbeat you were hearing or just the blood thundering in your ears.

You had no choice but to try and slow down your breathing and not make a noise every time you felt him touch you. You kept your eye through the lens, not even realizing his hands were reaching for yours until you felt them wrapped over the sides of the weapon.

Dex moved the gun around on the ground, just enough to find the new target as you laid there in a daze.

“Right there,” he whispered. “You see that billboard?”

You could only manage a small nod as you felt your breath catch in your throat. The large billboard was on the building parallel from you across the street, featuring a model posing in the newest collection of a fashion designer; big blue eyes peering at you through the dark night, sparsely illuminated by the bright lights on the street level.

“I want you to hit the eye, got it? Right in the middle.”

His hand brushed against yours as he reached the scope, adjusting the ring until it was in perfect focus for the distance and looking right into the model’s pupil. Rough skin cradled your own as he gently moved your loosened grip around until he decided it was right.

“Deep breath,” His right hand disappeared from your own as it reached back, gently resting on your back below the end of your vest.

The vision in the scope seemed to blur and fade away for a moment as he brushed it lower, sending a shiver straight through your body from the contact. You obeyed, stirring the night air into your nervous lungs as his hand pressed deeper into you the more you inhaled.

“Just like that.”

He assured, yet it sounded more like a growl than a whisper.

His index finger lightly applied pressure over your own, pressing on the trigger. You breathed in tandem with him, your back brushing against his tense chest as the heat between your bodies overwhelmed you more than the cold air ever did.

He let out a deep exhale against you, pushing your finger down as your body jolted against his, a shot ringing out into the night and piercing the eye perfectly in the middle.

You could finally breathe again when the sound of the shell clattered to the ground and snapped you from the trance, a sheepish smile formed on your face as you admired the perfect hit.

You pulled your eye from the scope and looked over your shoulder to suddenly become face to face with Dex.

His jaw clenched, a flicker of something raw flashing behind his eyes. The grip on your hand tightened, just slightly, like he was holding onto restraint by a thread.

A soft gaze— his dark eyes glinting with the reflections of city lights. It was out of character seeing Dex look at you like that.

He must’ve realized he was staring at your lips— his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed, “Good.”

The praise lingered in your ear, whistling in the wind and reverberating in your mind.

His lips hovered inches from yours. You could feel his breath ghosting against your skin, every inhale shared in that narrow space. His eyes searched yours like he was trying to find a reason not to do it, trying to remember what lines he wasn’t supposed to cross.

But then his hand slid further down your back—deliberate, grounding, possessive.

He hated that he was stuck with you.

He hated that he was always partnered with you. He hated that he couldn’t get your body out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried.

He hated every single second he was near you. And he hated that he couldn’t stop himself.

Your lips brushed.

A mistake.

You gasped softly, and that was all it took—Dex’s mouth crashed into yours like he’d been starving for it, rough and hungry and angry at himself for wanting it this badly.

His hand gripped the side of your neck, tilting your jaw up and holding you like he was afraid you’d pull away, the other still pressed firmly into your back, anchoring you in place— slowly skimming lower down the curve of your spine and over your hip.

Your breath hitched and his smirk pressed into your lips.

You kissed him back just as desperately, your teeth grazed his lip— you weren’t sure if it was punishment or need—but it made him moan against you, breath hitching as he pushed you further into the rooftop floor.

A hand hooked under you, flipping you to your back and pulling you by your hips away from the edge and the gun as you struggled to regain your lost breath. Dex loomed on top of you, straddling your body with his knees on each side of your legs.

His belt clinked as he shifted above you, his weight pressing into you harshly. One hand slid up your shirt—calloused fingertips exploring every line and curve like he had to memorize, methodical and precise , just like how he handled the gun.

You moaned into his reconnecting kiss, your hands clutching into his hair.

Your conscious returned for a moment and you managed to breath out a plead.

“Dex—the mission-”

“Fuck the mission.”

He practically ripped your vest off from the sides in one brute stroke, tossing it the dusted concrete next to you.

He leaned back just enough to rip the rest of your shirt over your head, his eyes dragging over your body like you were something he couldn’t believe he’d kept his hands off this long. There was something frantic in the way he moved now—like weeks of tension had finally cracked open all at once.

His eyes stayed on you as he shrugged off his vest, tossing it next to yours and pulling his shirt off in one brisk motion. The warmth of his chest hit yours, your fingers digging down his neck to his back, pulling him against you.

A deep groan escaped him as he dropped his head to your neck, gently biting your sensitive skin as his arms hooked under your back, lifting you from the cold concrete to unclasp your bra.

A trail of heat led from your collarbones to your breasts as Dex kissed your exposed skin, fingers caressing over your peaking nipples and gripping your ribs as he trailed down your torso.

You were breathless and flushed, looking down to see Dex’s arms flexing as he manhandled you to lift your hips, tearing off your pants as you kicked off your boots in desperation.

The cold night air brushed at your bare legs, but it was nothing compared to the burn his mouth left as he trailed kisses along your jaw, down the slope of your neck, teeth grazing just enough to make your pulse stutter.

Your back arched off the concrete as his hands dragged down your thighs, rough palms searing into your skin with every possessive touch as he reunited his lips to yours.

This wasn’t the same Dex from a moment ago, complete control and smooth precision—this was chaos breaking through, hungry and shaking as he grappled your body with a wet mouth and trembling hands.

You whimpered as his belt dug into the thin fabric of your panties, sending a sensitive throb in between your legs.

“Dex-” You breathed out as his hands gripped your thighs. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Shut up.” He growled, spreading them wider as he pressed his hips against yours. “They’ll call if they need us. Right now, I need this.”

He looked down at you from half lidded eyes as his fingers hooked under your waistband, dragging them down as your bare legs moved to cling to his hips.

Dex grunted as he leaned back on his knees, towering over your vulnerable form as his fingers undid his belt— never breaking eye contact as he freed his straining cock, stroking the pre-cum over bulging veins.

In one swift, harsh motion he pinned your hip in place and thrusted inside of you, stealing the air from your lungs as you managed a breathless whimper, fingers digging into his tense shoulders to stabilize the blinding pressure that pierced your body. Dex began a rhythmic pace, digging deeper into you with each movement, grinding you into the ground as the silent rooftop filled with the raw noise of your bodies slamming together.

“Oh, fuck—” Your hand reached for his stomach, nails trailing down firm abs to his v-line as you clutched at his skin, palm pressing into his tense muscle.

His outstretched arm holding him up from the ground next to you buckled for a second, breath catching in his throat as he hovered closer over you.

Dex brought his mouth to yours, your moans mixing together with a sloppy kiss.

You were ruining each other, abandoning all sense of the mission to fuck each other senseless, the rooftop dissipating as his body slammed against yours. Your muscles strained to keep up with his movements, hips bucking and back arching.

His mouth bit into your neck, sucking at your pulse and hand pushing into your hip so hard you knew it would be a black bruise by morning. He was fast, desperately driving deeper to reach both your climax’s before you were caught. The anticipation was driving you mindless, resisting the impulse to let your eyes fall back by keeping them locked on Dex.

Your moans were erratic, high pitched and needy as tension in your body became overwhelming against the friction. You whimpered incoherently as your fingers clung into his shoulder, a plead to continue. He grunted as your nails dug into his skin, obeying with a sharper thrust.

You cried out as the orgasm shook through you, your hold on Dex being the only thing keeping you grounded. He groaned with his last thrusts, trembling as your pulse around his dick sending him over the edge.

Dex tore himself away, spilling hot cum over your belly and dripping down your thighs as you both struggled to catch your breath in the cold night air. Hot pants rippled through the quiet, your chests heaving as you gasped for air. Dex collapsed back onto his knees, muscles twitching and abs trembling with rapid breaths and covered with red welts left from your nails.

Your eyes locked in the dark, staring at each other in awe as you resisted regret. You swallowed, remnants of his spit trickling down your throat as his hand flinched close to your skin.

“Poindexter.”

The static of the comms tore through the silence. “We’ve got movement.”

Dex didn’t move, breath rasping as he looked down at you.

“Dex, do you copy?”

The sudden wave of shame and cold air rippled over you as Dex pulled away, harsh reality pulling you from your lust induced trance.

He switched into sniper mode in an instant, like a trained command and subconscious pull of routine. All distractions of the mission fell away.

He would curse himself for abandoning procedure, for falling through and giving in— to you.

As you breathlessly stared at the dark sky, Dex was already at the edge of the roof, pants zipped and in position, one knee down cradling the gun in his arms— eye trained down at the street.

“Suspect exiting through west side.”

He was back in his domain, grip steady— the same tight force around the gun like he’d used on you.

But metal doesn’t bruise.

He gripped it harder, forcing it down as he breathed out. A sharp roar of the gun rippled in the night. Dex jolted with the weapon, the end jabbing into his tight uncovered shoulder, red marks decorating the skin.

A yelp pierced the air from below, a man screaming echoing across the street as sirens lit up.

After a few seconds the comms crackled back on. “Nice shot, Dex. We got him.”

He lingered with the rifle, his bare back glistened with sweat in the faint light, flexed muscle trailing from his shoulders to his biceps as he moved with rapid breaths.

A finger trembled over the trigger— like it was taking everything in him to resist the urge to plunge the next shot through the bastard’s skull for so selfishly interrupting your moment.

He had to follow orders. Keep the suspect alive.

Not like he was good at following them— not when a second body laid breathlessly naked behind him.

Finally, he pulled himself from the gun, keeping his eye on the scene below, refusing to look back at you. With practiced ease he dismantled the rifle, stowing it back in the case as he retrieved his shirt and vest like nothing had ever interrupted the job.

You managed to tug your clothes back on, wincing as the fabric clung to skin smeared with cum and dirt, every movement a sharp reminder of what had just happened.

“Transporting suspect to Mass General—shot obliterated his kneecap. Recon at lobby.” The comms buzzed and clicked off.

As you clipped your vest into place, Dex loomed over you—one hand gripping the case handle, the other securing his belt with a harsh tug.

Without warning, he grabbed the strap of your vest, hauling you up with one arm until your toes barely scraped the ground.

His face lingered inches from yours, looking down at you. “You don’t tell anyone about this, got it?” He rasped, low and cold. “Not a fucking word.”

You nodded fast, breath caught in your throat before you could mutter a promise.

Then, without warning, he kissed you—sloppy and raw, more claim than affection. He pulled back just enough to flash that crooked grin.

“Good girl.”

He let you go, sending your half tied boots staggering for a grip on the floor as he brushed past you. You looked back at the empty roof, red and blue lights cascading through the dark from below, revealing the emptiness— proof nothing had ever happened.

The only evidence left now marked both of your bodies in reddening lines and darkening bruises.

You followed Dex down with a lowered head, praying he wouldn’t turn around and see your creeping blush and smile.

[workwithmeman]

umm phantom w pcos go crazy go stupid

(I hc phantom as trans so i project many of my health issues upon him. woe, medical not-really-angst and a lot of fluff be upon ye. phantom and aether but also phantom and pack fluff.)

cooking w gas rn. thinking abt dr aether being so sweet. thinking abt phantom getting diagnosed w pcos (no im not projecting what are you talking about). thinking about phantom needing to get an iud to help regulate his hormones and bring up his progesterone to help bring his cycle back. thinking about aether being so sweet and gentle with him as he navigates the pain and the diagnosis. phantom being so so scared to get the iud because he's only heard horror stories on the internet. phantom crying to aether and saying that he's tired of feeling so much pain and hates that he has to feel more before it can get better. Aether holding him through it all.

Aether helping phantom make a meal plan of foods that don't spike his blood sugar and make his stomach hurt and his symptoms flair up. Aether making sure EVERYONE on tour knows so that phantom doesn't get flare ups on tour so he can play well for every show!!

Mountain making teas to help boost phantom's energy because bug struggles so much with chronic exhaustion :(( has a fun little tonic or concoction for every symptom and issue phantom has to bring him back to health in the knick of time.

cumulus, who i hc has endometriosis (again projection WHO) holding phantom's hand when his cramps are horrible bc she knows just what it's like. the two of them being best friends bc they deal with a pain the others just cant quite understand.

Dew making warm biscuits on phantom's tummy when his cramps or bloating are really bad to help reduce the pain and bring down the swelling. also works for achy joints.

solaris being a little scared to help because she's not very close to phantom but one day showing phantom the period boxers she's sewed for him so he doesn't have to feel so dysphoric on his cycle!! they help him feel a little more masc and a little less physically terrible because they're so much more comfortable than the pads he's been wearing. he's so excited he definitely kisses her right on the face about it.

medical talk under cut!!

Dr Aether being SOOOO sweet and gentle when he inserts the iud. makes phantom totally comfortable. gives him a lil stuffed bat to hold. talks him through the whole thing. properly doses him with quintessence so phantom doesn't feel the cervical pinch at ALL. being so quick and practiced with the insertion that it's over before phantom even realizes aether had loaded the insertion device. aether giving phantom a lollipop because he was so brave.

[divineawakeningoracle]

Volatile Relationship Aspects 🫣

Of course all of the aspects include Mars ruler of Aries and the 1st house. Mars is how we fight, or deal with our anger, how we go after what we want, and our sex drive. So the following aspects not only cause a magnetic pull because of the "square" but also in some cases strong physical attraction. With these aspects there is a "thin" line between love (Venus) and hate (Mars). But let's be honest any connection where there is intentional or unintentional harm to someone mentally, physically, spiritually, and emotionally could be considered abusive and or toxic which results in negative relationship karma for one or both individuals involved. Just because you have these aspects in synastry does not mean that what is being shared will be your outcome. We never want to manifest negativity in our connections, but we also want to be aware of the energy that is possible. This is my observation from reading numerous charts and also my own personal experiences.

Mars square Chiron- Mars person's anger may trigger the Chiron person and or remind them of past situations or childhood buried subconscious trauma. Mars anger can cause the Chiron person to be traumatized or feel victimized all over again. Mars person is not doing this intentionally but Chiron's reaction may cause the Mars person to re-evaluate how their actions and words can hurt or trigger another person.

Mars square Mars- Strong physical and magnetic attraction but a connection where there are power struggles and ego battles. They have a different way of going about getting what they want, as Mars is the planet of assertion, and taking action, so they do not always agree and each feel like their way of doing things is the right course of action. This connection tends to be on again off again. Because they can't seem to stay away from one another, the way to mitigate this "square" is compromise and mutual respect for each other's differences.

Mars square Uranus- The Uranus person's erratic energy and outlook is exciting and stimulating for the Mars person in the beginning, but once the newness of the connection wears off and the energy does not stabilize, it is a cause for major frustration, anger and anxiety for the Mars person. This connection tends to be on again off again, as Mars anger is off putting and too much for the Uranus person, they do not understand it because they are just being themselves. The way to handle this "square" is for the Mars person to accept the Uranus person as they are and not try to control them or the connection. The Uranus person can stand to be more understanding that their unpredictable flighty nature is triggering for the Mars person. Communication about expectations is key at that start of this connection and during.

Mars square Ascendant- The Mars person is magnetically attracted to the Ascendant person's energy. There is a strong intense sexual attraction, and the Mars person is aggressive in their pursuit and approach. The Ascendant person may find Mars attractive but also at times can find Mars forwardness to be off putting and may begin to distance themselves or shut down which angers the Mars person. Or the Ascendant person may push back and assert their boundaries, which then causes power struggles and discord. The Ascendant person attracted this connection to learn how to speak up for themselves and not let anyone bully or intimidate them. I have had this aspect with two masculine's in the past who were very physically attracted to me but they could also be forceful and aggressive when it came to the bedroom. One masculine was very touchy feely from the start and did not respect the boundaries I put in place physically. As the Ascendant is the 1st house which is the physical body and Mars (Aries) rules the 1st House. I find that it does not matter what sign Mars is in, this aspect brings an aggressive energy towards the Ascendant, if there is other hard Pluto or Mars aspects in the chart like Mars square Mars, Sun square Mars, Sun square Pluto, Mars square Pluto, or Pluto square Ascendant, this can manifest as controlling behavior, jealousy, stalking, and verbal, physical and or ***ual abuse. Be careful and mindful.

Mars square Lilith- Mars is magnetically, and physically attracted to the Lilith person's energy and vice versa. Lilith is our raw, untamed feminine energy, she will not be controlled and will not bow down. This causes power struggles and discord between these two. Because of the volatile energy of both, there is a potential for things to get physical. This connection tends to be on again off again, this aspect is similar to Mars square Mars because of the ego battles and inability to stay away from one another, no matter how toxic it gets.

Mars square Mercury- This aspect causes constant miscommunications, misunderstandings, and verbal arguments. Verbal abuse and threats are not out of the ordinary for this aspect. Name calling and mind games can also be a thing. This aspect is highly toxic because communication is the back bone of all romantic connections. And the inability to not understand one another mentally, but also for it to cause such vitriol is unnerving.

Mars square Sun- The Sun is our ego, pride, and self esteem, while Mars is how we go after what we want and how we deal with our anger. These are two bold masculine energies with the same goal in mind. Winning. Initially this aspect seems like a match made in heaven, because there is a lot of energy being generated as well as attraction. If there is mutual respect, this couple can be a force to be reckoned with, a power couple. If there is competition between them instead of working together, this will result in back biting, sabotage, and volatile power struggles, where neither individual is willing to back down. This aspect can turn two people into enemies if there are not soft supporting aspects to the Moon, Venus and or Neptune.

Stay Lifted,

Madison 💕

🪷shop for synastry and or oracle readings🪷

[lizawithaz-notlisawithans]

Okay you can all hate me but has anyone else given a thought to Javadi x Whitaker?

After watching a video of all their interactions, Whitaker is so sweet to her making sure she was okay after passing out in the first hour. He immediately reports it to Robby even when she’s embarrassed and wants to ignore it. They bond over Santos being embarrassed about dropping the scalpel on Garcia.

Obviously, Javadi is a lover girl who immediately has her heart eyes set on Matteo (which whomst amongst us wouldn’t ?!). She would totally not see Whitaker that way at first to focus all her yearning towards someone who doesn’t wanna date a coworker.

In the 10 month interim between seasons, Javadi befriends Santos and Whitaker and hangs out with them in their apartment. But since they’re still students, Javadi and Whitaker start a study group to help keep up with their schoolwork and residency/fellowship apps.

They goof off doing schoolwork in similar ways and don’t mind hearing the other rant about a niche thing they’re into. Though Javadi draws the line at any stories about 4H club.

They start a very comfortable friendship that I can see going deeper when they both vent about their parents and home life. In the show, Whitaker doesn’t give a straight answer on whether his parents are proud of him and Javadi’s parents have had her in this success track since diapers. All those pressures can be a lot so its nice to confide with someone struggling with their parents expectations.

They’re both small fishes in very big ponds. Whitaker being in a big city for the first time. Javadi being surrounded by people much older than her, her entire schooling and now in the hospital. Both feel like unprepared tiny adults. But they are so excited to tell each other at the end of the day what new procedures they got to do for the first time.

Whitaker develops a small crush that he pushes away as a proximity thing but Santos can tell when they all hang out that Whitaker and Javadi seem to develop a secret code amongst themselves. They develop an awareness of each other that is comfortable and protective.

When Santos takes them out barhopping after Javadi turns 21 (Javadi schedules a night out just for her hospital friends since her parents took her out to dinner on her actual birthday) Whitaker seems to always appear next to Javadi with a glass of water to remind her to pace herself.

The more they interact outside of the hospital setting the closer they get. Its to the point Javadi has the realization that many girls make in their 20s: the boy they have been “officially”calling their crush is less of a real person but a construction of affection created through limerence in order to protect oneself from actually being in a relationship and risking potential emotional harm. Tale as old as time. You like the idea of someone but don’t understand the real person in front of you.

Javadi realizes this after she finally has a coffee date (he doesnt say date but she assumes) with Matteo and she realizes they dont have much in common outside of medicine and mutual respect. Which leads Javadi to spiral cause how can she not be into him, she was nervous the entire time in his presence?!

And maybe she has this spiral with her good friends Whitaker and Santos. And Santos counters with much wisdom, “maybe your person isn’t someone you’re always bumbling and nervous around, maybe it’s the person who makes you feel calm and serene?” Whitaker avoids eye contact with both Javadi and Santos(who he said those exact words to describe how Javadi makes him feel)

Javadi totally doesn’t get the hint and goes on a string of dating app dates which does nothing but either set off her anxiety or bore her to tears. And Whitaker painfully gets the debriefs after every single date.

Santos can’t take seeing her roommate flounder anymore and takes to her plan b: gossip. She slips to Princess and Perlah that she overheard Whitaker asking Javadi out (they actually did plan to see a movie after doing a timed practice test during their study group). The goss spread like wildfire throughout the ED.

Dana coyly says to Javadi one break that she’s “Glad you’re making the move from Utah to Nebraska, kid.” Javadi is immediately horrified at the rumor, insisting that Whitaker is her closest friend in the ED and that shes never even been to Nebraska so how does that metaphor even work.

But then she gets more of peoples point of view of them together. McKay likes that he’s sweet to her and takes her opinions in consideration. It’s a quality that is frustratingly rare. She also just assumed they were already dating from watching them interact during the bar crawl after her birthday.

Mohan is the last to hear that there was even a rumor and picks up that Javadi is really asking if she actually does have feelings for Whitaker. So she asks the simple question “how do you feel when you’re around Whitaker?”

Javadi just squeaks out “calm and serene”.

And then she spirals about having feelings for Whitaker, someone who she didn’t even realize she cared so much about until it crept up on her. So she avoids him at work and cancels the movie plans to try to take control of the situation (ie. protect herself from the possibility of being hurt)

Whitaker is utterly confused about what’s going on until Donnie fills him in on everybody knowing that he asked Javadi out. Whitaker immediately knows that Santos meddled with Princess and Perlah and goes off on her on their ride home.

For the first time, he feels nervous being around Javadi cause he assumes she doesn’t feel the same way and is disappointed that he ruined their good friendship by liking her. He avoids her as well so she doesn’t feel uncomfortable around him

Santos somehow drove the two people shes been trying to get together, further apart. Dana sees her groaning at her desk and gets her confess the mess shes put her best friends in. Dana finds it hilarious and gives her sage advice about not playing god and letting things manifest on there own.

And it does cause these two nerds obviously don’t cancel their timed practice test. Relationships and matters of the heart are secondary when it comes to making sure you graduate. But all throughout their test session at the library they can’t help slipping quick glances at each other. After grading each others exams and giving tips on which sections to focus on there’s a silence. Usually they’d shake off the academics and start chatting about any odd thing and hang out. But there’s been an acknowledgment that there’s a Them™️ and everyone else can see it. And now they’re forced to see it.

Right when Whitaker turns to leave and say goodbye, Javadi hits the “fuck it” button and asks him to see that damn movie with her. “And I mean it as a date. It doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to but I like you. It’s important that you know that.”

“I like you too. I only avoided you cause well I thought you didn’t see me like that”

“Oh I didn’t. Not until I realized how safe you make me feel. I never felt insane around you until we weren’t talking.”

They smile at each other and let out a sigh of relief. They’re finally on the same page and they’re doing something about it.

After the movie, they chat about Santos being a meddler and decide to hold off on letting her know that they’d figured it out. But they truly touched (and surprised) at how sentimental Santos about them getting together.

(I have flown too close to the sun)

[mistmessenger]

Trick or treat | Papa V Perpetua x female!reader one shot

You intend to make Perpetua's first halloween in the ministry one to remember.

18+ MDNI

Content warnings: bondage, edging, accidental ruined orgasm (kind of), smut and fluff, established relationship, sexual roleplay, chapel sex umbra on repeat, copia is fetching the ouija board down the hall "mama, the freaks are larping in the chapel again!"

This is silly but let V be a creature he deserves it.

AO3 Link

When Perpetua got an idea in his head, he became something of a wide eyed puppy. Pestering and begging for your attention until you gave in, or chewing on the furniture when he wasn’t getting the reactions he needed from you.

Or rather, nipping on your neck, or any other exposed skin he could find until your body gave you no choice but to give him the spotlight in your life.

So when he all but skipped into your room, numerous packages in hand, needless to say your curiosity was piqued. You hoped he had sense not to order these on the ministry credit card this time, whatever they were. You peeked inside the packages.

A lot of leather. A lot of buckles.

You raised a brow.

“And just what are your intentions with these?” You smirk, seeing how he was clearly struggling to hold back an excited grin, his dark curls framing his dazzling smile beautifully.

It was never easy to tell when he bought these trinkets which of you were going to end up wearing them.

“My intentions are for you to use them as you see fit, amore.” He was practically bouncing on his heels as he tried to gauge your reaction. It was adorable really. But you couldn’t tell him that - not just yet.

Letting out a small hum, you nodded, setting the packages aside, returning your focus to your laptop.

“Want me to tie you up, V?” You murmured casually, not giving away any strong feelings on the idea.

He hesitated for a second, your reaction, or lack of one not what he expected.

“… Yes amore.”

“Ok.”

“…Ok?” His smile faltered, dejected by your lack of enthusiasm.

“Ok, Papa.”

He let out a huff, exasperated.

“I’ll see you at the party later, yeah?.” You murmured cheerfully, feigning ignorance to his dismay. You didn’t glance up at him, already knowing he would be wide eyed and pouting.

“Yeah. Ok.” He spun on his heel, letting out a small hmph noise. At times, the resemblance to his brother was uncanny.

It was your first year together, and as the October days flew by, you were learning just how excited he could get about Halloween.

It wasn’t the first time you had let him down in a way this week. He had been like an overexcited child all week in the lead up to tonight’s costume party. He wanted you to attend in matching costumes, something you firmly said no to - several times. It made your heart hurt to deny him, to see the glint fade in his eyes as you rejected idea after idea, but you were going to make it up to him. The costume party may not be what he wanted for the two of you, but the plans you had in mind for afterwards would more than compensate.

He didn’t know it yet, but the packages he had brought you were going to elevate your idea even more.

He arrived late to the party, no doubt having taken some time to manoeuvre into his bat wings. You had insisted on them.

“But everyone has seen them, I need to do something different!”

“No V, everyone will love it, I promise.”

“My brother won’t love it. Especially not if he shows up in his wings too.”

“He’ll get over it.”

He mingled with siblings for a while before his eyes landed on you. You watched as he made his way across the hall, noticing how he chewed his lip.

“Hello my love.” You chirped, clinking your glass against his.

“This is your costume?” He balked at your simple outfit, “what are you supposed to be?”

“I’m an adventurer!” You beamed, gesturing to your heavy boots and stuffed rucksack, watching as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Amore… I…” he pouted, again, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I am choosing your costume next year. The lack of effort...” he trailed off, shaking his head.

You bit your tongue, only a little offended. He was right, it was a shit costume, but you reasoned he would appreciate it a little more later.

“Mmhm. We’ll see, Papa. Go mingle, your flock awaits.” You grinned, pushing him back towards a group of siblings, ignoring the way his eyes widened. You knew he preferred these things when you stayed by his side, finding it easier to converse with the rest of the clergy with you there to mediate. But you had preparations to make. You waited until he finally seemed to be settling into the party, becoming engrossed in conversations before you slipped away to get the finishing touches ready.

You sat crouched behind the altar of the ministry chapel, holding your breath as you heard the door open. You waited for a sign that it was him, that he had found the instructions you had left on his bed.

As you heard the latch slide across on the large doors, a quiet breath of relief escaped your lips.

“Amore? Are you here?” Perpetua sounded a little irritated, unsurprisingly, at your unannounced exit from the party. It was almost enough for you to drop the act and apologise to him. But you knew it would be worth it.

You stifled your giggles as he made his way into the dark chapel. You heard his soft steps pause on the other side of the altar, having found your second note, guiding him towards the sacristy.

You prepared yourself, tightening your grip on the straps in your hand as he walked past you, oblivious to your presence in the dim light. You felt like a complete dickhead, but at least he could not see how badly you blushed as you spoke.

“Not another step, demon.”

It was difficult to maintain your composure at the small shriek he let out, spinning to face you. He still wore the wings, as per the request on your note.

“Amore!” he hissed, his lips parted, eyes wide watching as you stood up, “what are y-“

“Do not waste your honeyed words on me, beast!”

You reached into your rucksack, flailing a stake at him. Getting that prop had been troublesome, it turned out the ghouls didn’t like you stealing their gardening equipment.

His confused expression slowly morphed to one of enlightenment, biting on his bottom lip as he studied your costume with a new understanding.

“Oh… Oh.” He chuckled, unable to hold back his grin.

“You will not be laughing when I drive this through your heart!” Your voice cracked slightly, finding it increasingly difficult to avoid laughing at yourself.

“Oho, do you think you’re the first adventurer to try to best me?” He smirked, voice low as he quickly committed to the act, sidestepping you as you attempted to grab his arms.

“The last one said the same thing-” he rasped, lunging forward in an attempt to latch his teeth to your throat, barely grazing your collarbone as you jumped back, “-imagine their surprise when they realised I do not have a heart.”

You bit your lip to suppress your laughter, unable to keep a straight face as you both stalked around each other, in a standoff as you circled the altar.

“You don’t scare me.” your eyes narrowed in challenge as you pointed the stake towards him.

“No?” He laughed, lunging at you again. You shrieked, giggling as you leapt back to avoid him.

“You’re right. You don’t look scared. At all.”

He raised his arms, his wings flaring out as if trying to intimidate you. You ignored his scoff as you paced backwards towards the cathedra at the side of the altar. You had prepped the chair, using the leather straps he had gifted you earlier. Now all you need was for him to walk into your trap. Or, well, sit in it.

“I can hear how your little human heart is pounding… so if it is not fear… perhaps you are feeling something else, huh?” He chuckled, stepping closer to the chair. “Feeling it… somewhere else, no?” He grinned, tilting his head.

“Don’t be ridiculous, vile thing.” You scoffed, blushing. He glimpsed at the chair, a glint in his eyes as he noticed the straps.

He sprang towards you, managing to grab you this time. While you tussled with him, trying to manoeuvre him to sit, he reached for your hand, uncurling your fingers from around the stake.

“Hah!” He scoffed, beaming as it hit the ground with a rattle. “Not so brave now, little mortal?”

You jabbed him in the ribs, trying to wiggle out of his grasp as he buried his face in your neck, teeth scraping against your skin. Grabbing him by the shoulders you managed to push him back onto the cathedra. He let out a huff of air, rolling his eyes.

“Alright. I will humour you, mortal. Let me see what you can do.”

You ignored his taunting as you made quick work of strapping his wrists together, binding them above his head. The wings fanned out, framing him beautifully. They blocked what little light was present in the chapel from reaching his eyes, the eyeholes in his mask appearing pitch black. It was a startling image, two black depths combined with his snarl.

“What’s wrong? Lost your nerve?” He chuckled, making a show of pulling on the restraints, snapping his teeth.

“Not at all, demon. I have you exactly where you need to be.”

Dropping to your knees you secured the remaining straps around each of his ankles, securing them to the front legs of the chair.

Trying to appear oblivious, you rested on your knees for a moment, studying him. He looked ethereal, in his black suit, the way the gems on his wings sparkled in the dim chapel.

The bulge in his trousers was already obvious. He snickered again upon seeing you notice, his head tilting.

“See something you like, human?” Perpetua cooed, shifting in vain on the heavy chair in an attempt to get closer to you.

“Disgusting. I should not be surprised a vile demon like you would be aroused by this.” You chided him, face burning red.

“What can I say?” the drawl of his voice made your heart flutter, watching as he spreading his thighs further apart to taunt you, “You have a much prettier face than the savages that have tried to best me before. Much better prepared too… A shame it will not be enough.”

You rolled your eyes, standing to search the floor for your discarded stake.

“Oh, going all quiet? Huh? I bet you’re not a quiet one. All these leathers… I wonder what you get up to in those seedy little taverns when you’re not out on your adventures…”

“Enough!” You snarled, voice cracking as you turned away to hide how you bit your lip, hiding your grin. Perpetua was much better at this than you. You picked up the stake, pacing in front of the altar. “This is a house of prayer. Do not taint it with your filth.”

“Hah! Believe me, human. The chapel is not what I intend to taint.”

You pointed the stake at him again in warning, not attempting to meet his smug gaze lest you fall into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, fine.” he huffed, “Go on then, little mortal. Try to kill me.”

Clearing your throat, you shook your head.

“Didn’t you see your posters? The guards would pay more to have you captured alive.”

“Really? And just how are you going to get me to these generous guards?”

Ah shit. You were beginning to think he was too immersed in this, as you shrugged, trying to come up with a response.

“Sun rises in a few hours, I would be correct in saying the sunlight limits your abilities, no?”

He hummed for a moment, clearly enjoying watching you struggle to keep up your appearance. “Hm… of course, of course. Clever little thing. Much crueler than I anticipated…”

You raised a brow.

“How so?”

“Well, you know why they want me alive yes? So some musty old mage can experiment on me, torture me.” He feigned fear, all but begging for sympathy.

“And, crueler still, you intend to leave me tied up for hours like this? Unsatisfied and unattended?”

“Shut up, demon. Need I remind you again where you are?” You paced around the cathedra, standing behind him to get a peak at just how hard he was.

“Oh, silly little thing. Your god isn’t here. If they were, someone like me would not exist.” He drawled, tilting his head back to taunt you. “And besides… Do you think a little leather will keep me from ripping you to shreds, huh? Only one of us will leave here alive, little mortal. Why not show a wayward spirit some compassion?”

“Compassion, is it?” you mocked, running a hand through his hair, tugging on the ends. You let out a quiet tsk as he groaned, attempting to buck his hips up again. “Fine then, beast. Let us pass the time with my compassion.”

Swiftly you stood between his legs, undoing the clasp on his belt, before unlacing his pants just enough to free his cock. You scoffed as you ghosted your hand over the veins protruding from his skin, causing it to pulse as he hissed.

“Who’s quiet now?” You chided, grinning at the way his lips parted for you for just a second, before he sunk his teeth into his lower lip to suppress a whine.

“You know, for a demon, this is pretty unimpressive…” Idly, you stroked him, barely wrapping your hand around his cock.

“R-really?” His breath hitched, his soft whimpers almost inaudible. “All the more reason to show compassion… little mortal, uh-“

He shivered, watching you with bated breath as you spat into your hand, slowly coating him.

It was mesmerising, watching his hands clench, his body twitching to fight against the straps. You wanted nothing more than to climb on his lap and make him come undone, but taking your time would make it all the sweeter.

He let out a whine as you continued stroking him, taunting him with an uncommitted light grip.

“What, demon?” You snarled, feigning exasperation.

“I wanna touch you.” He stammered.

You forced yourself not to meet his gaze, knowing how little you could resist him when he got so desperate.

“So close already, monster? All these stories about demons being relentless lovers, and this has you undone already?” You let out another tsk, slowly teasing him with your hand, studying him for just the right moment. He squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his fists - your perfect cue.

You pulled away, grinning as he hissed and swore at you.

“You! Fuck!” He snarled, chest heaving as he tugged at the straps. “When I get my hands on you…”

“Tsk tsk. That’s not very nice…” you cooed, stalking around the chair. “It doesn’t stir much… compassion within me.”

He groaned, his breath still shaky.

“Please, fearsome little human. Please have mercy.” He muttered, rolling his eyes.

You knelt before him, revelling in the anticipation in his eyes as he waited for you to touch him again. Every so often you would move your hands closer, only to touch his clothes for the briefest moment, watching as he let out a disappointed sigh.

It only lasted a few minutes before the sighs turned to whimpers, his hips squirming.

“Please. Please touch me.”

You grinned, hearing his desperate whisper.

“Oh that’s better demon. Much more genuine. I might teach you some manners yet…”

His cock twitched as you gripped him again, slowly pumping as he ground against you. You slid your other hand into his trousers, lightly tugging the trail of dark hair that led to his navel.

“Ummph. Fuck!” He whined, his breath becoming raspy.

“You like that? Hm?” You laughed, stroking him faster as he moaned.

Gritting his teeth he barely managed to let out a garbled mmhm. The way his fists were clenched, his eyes closed as he tilted his head back - you could tell he was trying to restrain himself, knowing you were about to stop him again.

It just wouldn’t do. Taking advantage of his closed eyes, you leaned forward, taking the tip of his cock in your mouth, holding back your smile as you felt him jump.

“Oh fuck amore please-“

With an audible pop, you pulled away from him, taking your hands away.

“No. I don’t think so, beast.” You chided him, unsure if he had even heard you over his own complaints. You weren’t even sure exactly what he was trying to say, multiple curses and languages garbling together through his clenched jaw.

By the third time you had denied him, he had grown more agitated, words giving way to petulant groans and snarls, taking longer each time for him to reach coherence. Sweat had trickled from beneath his mask, marbling the black and silver paints beautifully.

You sat cross legged before him, head tilted as you watched him heave for breath, his cock swollen, practically throbbing from being denied. He looked distressed, enough for you to drop your act.

“Abracadabra?”

His eyes widened, quickly shaking his head.

“No. No amore.”

Surprised, you squinted. He saw the question in your gaze, snarling in response as he began to grasp at composure once more. “I’m sure, my little adventurer. Now…” he chuckled, “don’t you think you’re due some reward for all your hard work? Capturing me, tormenting me…”

You rolled your eyes, reverting to your character, as much as you wanted to jump at the opportunity.

“I’ll get a reward when I deliver you to the guards-“

“Not that reward. Not coin, mortal. Pleasure. It’s yours for the taking.” Perpetua murmured, his raspy voice now laden with seduction, his cock twitching at the idea of you riding him.

You bit your lip, throat dry as you swallowed.

“You’re tempted, aren’t you little human? How often would you get an opportunity like this, huh?” He grinned, sure of himself that you would not be able to resist him now, not with how flustered you were becoming.

But you composed yourself, slowly unlacing your boots before standing, kicking them aside.

“I have no need of you. I can attend to myself.” You laughed, watching as the smirk on his face fell, replaced with a look of confusion as he watched you unlace your trousers. You pushed them down, torturously slowly, letting out a huff of laughter as he bit his lip in response to seeing your lack of underwear.

He let out a groan as you stepped out of them, stroking the wetness between your thighs.

Leaning on his shoulder with one hand to steady yourself, you sat on his lap, your legs spread.

“How beautiful…” he uttered, hypnotised as your hand traced around your labia, coating your fingers with your wetness before circling your clit.

“Are you sure it is not you, that is a demon, teasing me so?” He leaned forward as far as the straps would allow, yearning to kiss you, your lips just out of reach.

“Hmph. I warned you about those honeyed words.” You scoffed, pressing your hand to his lips. With a satisfied hum he quickly took your fingers in his mouth, lapping and sucking at them, desperate for the slightest taste of you.

Taking advantage of his distraction, with his eyes closed in bliss, you removed your other hand from his shoulder, gripping the base of his cock as you raised your hips. His eyes snapped open, the cold metal of his mask cooling you as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours.

Staring at him with determination, you teased him, only taking his tip as you rode him lazily.

“Oh, you are a devil!” He groaned, attempting to buck his hips, desperate to feel the warm squeeze of your cunt taking every inch of him.

Finally humouring him, you lowered your hips, biting your lip as he filled you beautifully, your eyes rolling back for a brief moment.

You smirked, pulling away as he tried to kiss you.

“It takes one to know one, hm?”

“Little fucking tease. You mortals…” he huffed, whimpering as you rode him, your hands gripping the armrests for leverage.

You were quick to chase your own orgasm, hoping you could achieve it before you would have to dismount him.

You were in luck, the anticipation having seemingly gotten you worked up in advance. In only a few minutes you were on the edge of release, your head falling forwards, unable to resist his kisses as he forced your lips apart with his tongue. He swallowed your whimpers as you returned the kiss, knuckles white as your hips faltered, hit by your orgasm.

With his limited movement he thrust his hips against you, rocking you through your ecstasy. Your body stilled, your shoulders wracking as you gasped for air, breaking the kiss.

“Beautiful.” Perpetua growled, his lips latching the delicate skin on your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. He murmured, voice gravelly with lust.

“You can do it again, no? You want more… you’ve earned more little mortal…”

You knew better than to jump right back in, knew your own limitations, and knew that he was only trying to convince you so he could finally cum. But your head was still clouded with lust, with the delicious feeling his hard cock stretching you. Disregarding your hesitation you began grinding your hips again, quickly settling into a desperate pace, your clit pulsing from the overstimulation.

You threw your head back, ignoring all his cues as you put all your focus into your selfish needs.

You squeezed your eyes shut, so tightly you saw stars, ignoring the signs from your body that you needed to relax, a tingling sensation coming from deep within the muscles of your thighs. You were so close, all it would take was a few more thrusts, spurred on by the heat of his breath as he groaned against your ear-

“Oh. Oh shit!” You cried out, clumsily dismounting him, pulling your shirt down to cover yourself as you stumbled onto the floor. Pleasure coursed through you as the waves of your second orgasm was cut short almost as soon as it began, mixing with the sharp pain that had embedded itself deep in your thigh.

Perpetua let out a hoarse laugh, able to at least find humour in being denied his release this time.

“Hah! Have you come to your senses, my hypocritical little adventurer? Brought to bliss by the very creature you to claim to despise? Under the eyes of your precious gods?”

“My leg’s cramping, you goofy motherfucker!” You wail out, rolling onto your back.

A shrill giggle escaped him, the noise the only thing making your pain bearable in the moment.

“Tsk.” Quickly he recovered, the faltering in his voice disappearing to give way to a honeyed invitation. “I happen to give an excellent massage. A shame you’ve bound my hands.”

“I need no aid from you vile demon- ah jesus fuck!” You gasped, letting out a mock sob as the pain coursed through your thigh.

He had the decency to wait for you to recover before he taunted you again, his shoulders shaking with a silent chuckle when you eventually managed to stand, attempting to walk off the pain.

“For an adventurer your stamina is kind of…shitty, no?”

“You little-.” You growled, chuckling as you tried to regain your composure. “I was going to put you out of your misery this time. But you’ve earned one more.”

With shaky legs you mounted his lap again, lining yourself to languidly descend on his cock, letting a trembling moan rise from your throat at the pleasure of being filled by him, in tandem with the lingering pain in your legs.

It didn’t take much for you to abandon your controlled pace, the sensations of your clit grinding against the course hair surrounding his cock feeling too good to resist as you bucked your hips, chasing another orgasm.

Burying your head in his neck as you moaned, you came undone. He laughed this time. The sound made you snap your head up, knowing in your heart that he had some ploy to get his own back on you.

You had not noticed, while you had been lying on the floor, how he had loosened the buckles around his wrists. How he had freed himself enough that he needed to grip the top of the chair to maintain the appearance of being bound. And you were much too occupied to notice it while you had been riding him, caught up in chasing your own pleasure. Too busy studying his face, and the rise and fall of his chest, trying to pace your thrusts to give yourself adequate time to pull away before he came.

In an instant the shadows of his wings blurred past your eyes, his hands landing on your hips with a vice grip.

Biting his bottom lip you could tell he was barely holding back a sneer, concentrating on his own release now. His eyes narrowed.

“No. No you don’t.” He muttered, taking control of your rhythm, your body no longer your own as he moved you with ease.

He pressed his face to your chest, the cool metal of his mask easing your flushed skin.

You gasped, whimpering as he pulled your hips, savouring the way you tightened around him as he pumped you up and down on his cock.

His voice became something of a growl, sending a shiver through you both as you got more and more lost in this game.

“It would be a sin to kill you, little mortal. No, no, no. I will have you.” He rasped, caging you against him as his movements became more sloppy, more desperate as he ground your hips against his. His teeth latched onto your neck, threatening to break skin if he got any more carried away.

“I will make you one of my kind. Have you for eternity. Fuck- Amore!”

“Oh jesus V…” you whined as his cock twitched within you. His winged arms dug into your back as his body convulsed, grasping you so tightly you struggled for breath, feeling his seed spill within you.

You both heaved for breath, panting as you remained entwined. Between huffs, he peppered your skin with soft kisses, covering the indents from his teeth with his smudged paint. For a few minutes, your combined gasps for air sounded overwhelming against the silence of the chapel.

“Am I forgiven for spoiling your Halloween?” You whispered, unable to hide your smug grin.

He stared down at you with a sense of reverence, his lips meeting yours with chaste kisses, humming between each peck as if considering.

“I don’t think you spoiled Halloween… you spoiled me, amore. But…” he rested his head against the back of the chair, nestling you across his lap, “…I am still choosing your costume for next year. No arguments.”

You pouted, shaking your head. “Aw. But I was thinking I could be a mad scientist. Make you my Frankenstein…?”

Perpetua’s face reddened beneath the remaining streaks of face paint, biting his lip. “Ah fuck… Amore… You know, Frankenstein is the scientist, not the monster…”

Rolling you eyes you huffed, waving your hand at him. “Pfft. Semantics, V. Next time I’ll gag you too. Do you want strapped onto a table and fucked or not?”

You beamed as he nodded enthusiastically, continuing your teasing, playing nonchalant. “That was my original idea for tonight, you know. Turns out it’s harder than I expected to find a stethoscope. The lab coat was the easy part…”

He groaned, “Don’t do this to me, my love. I’m spent.”

“Awww…” you giggled, secretly relieved - you were exhausted. “Well I guess it can wait until next year…”

He tutted, pulling you back for another kiss.

“No, no, actually. As your Papa, you’ll celebrate Halloween when I dictate. It’s definitely in the ministry handbook, in the fine print somewhere.”

You let out a bark of laughter, tucking his hair behind his ears while cuddling against him. “Oh yeah? And when will that be?”

“Let me just say, amore… You best hurry up and hunt down that stethoscope…”

[paulyenvol6]

To Lose Yourself (Chapter 7)

Contains: manipulation, angst, crying, fighting

Wordcount: 4,207

Masterlist of this story

Her father's face was twisted and unnaturally drawn as his loud and bellowing voice poured over her, almost making her sink into the floor. And yet she could barely understand any of it, the words sounding muffled and far away. 'I have to know what he says,' Anissa thought and tried to concentrate on her father but then she was distracted because Daemon appeared next to him. Daemon, the way he had looked that night with this shirt half-open and a wide mischievous smile gracing his face. He approached her and Anissa wanted to scream and tell him to go away because he must have seen Otto right next to her but he was solely focused on her, the smile not fading as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Anissa could see into her father's face from over Daemon's shoulder and he still looked the same, burying her under a gush of insults and accusations.

Suddenly the floor turned and the girl almost lost her balance but there was Daemon keeping her close to his body. There was a roaring in her ear, almost the kind she had felt when she used to fly on dragonback with Laenor Velaryon sometimes when she was younger and the air would blow in her ear. Instinctively Anissa pressed her fingers into her ear to protect herself from this tormenting noise and in addition she closed her eyes, wanting all of this to vanish and then the world around her went quiet.

An invisible force made her open her eyes again and she had to blink a few times to accustomate to the bright sun. She was by the coast, the endless expense of the ocean glistening beneath the warm sun and Anissa had to laugh in excitement. Daemon was still next to her, an arm snug around her waist and now the roaring in her ear was replaced by his hot breath brushing over her pulse point. "It's a pretty sight. Almost as pretty as you." She had to giggle but then noticed the weight that laid on her heart. She was angry at him and if only she were able to remember why... Yes, that was it! He had spent way too long chatting to Lady Dyna at King Viserys' nameday the other week and although he had apologised a hundred times, Anissa was still not entirely on good terms with him.

Her mind was racing, weighing whether she should continue to be angry with him or let it slide when suddenly a cold hand wrapped around her upper arm making her breath hitch in her throat. She gasped, eyes widening as she stared at Daemon whose face was marked with plain agony.

"Stupid stupid girl…," he hissed but this wasn't his voice.

"Father," she whispered weakly, feeling wobbly on her knees from the pain cutting through her flesh like knives. She was about to faint and her view became blurry while Daemon dragged her with him to the edge of the cliff.

"No, no, no," Anissa wanted to scream but she choked and instead of expressing her complaints, she gagged, her head dropping forward as she gripped the sleeves of Daemon's shirt, begging him not to throw her over the cliff. But he looked so angry that the blood in her veins froze and no matter how hard she fought and hit around her Daemon moved her further until one last push was all it took for him to toss her over the edge. Her arms whirled and searched for something to hold on, feet kicking in the air and then a shock went through her body.

Anissa sat up straight, panting rapidly and searchingly looked around in the room, the memories of the nightmare still vivid in her mind. Realising that it had just been a dream after all she inhaled deeply pressing a hand on her pounding heart to calm herself. Sweat was drooling down her back making her feel gross but at least she was happy to be alive.

Although… now that she was awake Anissa's thoughts immediately jumped to her current struggles and with a long sigh she sank back into the pillows, this big knot returning to her throat which she just couldn't seem to swallow. This definitely wasn't a nice way to start the day that would surely not be any less burdensome than the one before.

But nevertheless, Anissa found that she didn't have a choice but to push through it no matter how uncomfortable or stressful her encounter with both Daemon and Viserys would turn out to be and so she decided to get up to at least prepare herself for it.

A handmaiden helped her get dressed in a silky green gown that resembled the Hightower green and she decided to wear her hair up today. Just when her servant was picking at the last strands of hair to make her look less severe the door opened and Alicent stepped inside, looking just as nervous as Anissa felt.

"Good morrow, sister. How are you feeling?" she greeted and hugged her and although Alicent certainly did it with the best intentions, her sister couldn't help but feel restrained and was glad when she pulled back.

All she wanted was to get this over with as quickly as possible and perhaps it was the fact that she had such a bad night with these uneasy dreams, but Anissa wished to be left alone. Still, she had a bitter feeling in her throat looking up to Alicent because wasn't she the only person to stand up for her right now? The girl instantly cursed herself for being so ungrateful and gave Alicent a tender smile.

"I'm fine," she lied and straightened her shoulders.

"His grace expects us in the throne hall. I'm sure it will not be long, Ani… it's just to discuss the wedding, you know?"

It was clear how much strength and effort these words took Alicent and considering that Anissa herself couldn't quite realise that she was about to marry Daemon Targaryen yet, one couldn't blame her. Anissa nodded but avoided her sister's piercing eyes as she moved toward the door.

"Yes. I understand."

The younger sibling couldn't see the concern in Alicent's face, eyebrows drawn together and her mouth clenched but the message had been clear. Anissa clearly didn't want to wait any longer and so she followed her sister outside and silently pulled her with her.

Anissa only fully snapped back to reality when she found herself right in front of the iron throne, Viserys towering over her in his majestic robes and his appearance alone intimidated her. The girl was so in awe of the king that she didn't notice the shadow to her right, a slender man approaching her and her sister and Anissa gasped when she felt his presence next to her.

Daemon stood tall and confident, exuding the dominance and unwaveringness she had come to expect from him. She couldn't help but take a small step back and lowering her chin as the rogue prince moved a hand to rest on her shoulder.

"My lady. I find it endearing to finally see you under… much more festive circumstances."

"Take your hand off her," Alicent immediately hissed, blaring her teeth at him but Daemon wasn't impressed.

"Oh oh," he laughed not attempting to remove his hand. "I will have my hands on a lot of other places on her body soon enough, my lady. Do not get hung up on this trifle, my dear."

Alicent didn't seem any less confident as him as she defiantly raised her chin towards him with the intention to step between him and her sister.

"Fuck you. You will pay for this. You will pay for all of this because the gods are just and you can not betray them, even if you're last name happens to be Targaryen."

Daemon looked rather amused as he rubbed over his neck, his hand still firm on Anissa's shoulder.

"I always thought this one was the wicked little beast… And I believed you to be the grey shy mouse. Funny…" He let his gaze travel between the two sisters until Viserys clapped his hands making all the attention draw to him.

"Silence. Enough of this. You're here to discuss important business and not these… childish matters."

"Of course, your grace," Daemon gave him a smile that almost seemed genuine. The addressed rested his small eyes on his brother for a moment before watching the small gathering.

"Lady Alicent… I don't know what you're doing here, but… It doesn't matter now... Your father has informed me of some rather unpleasant events the other day. I must say that I'm most disappointed in the both of you because it leaves me in a very unconvenient place."

Viserys shook his head while walking down a stair.

"I intended to wed you, Daemon, to the lady Laena but now I believe my hands are tied. The two of you will marry in four days. It is spontaneous and most certainly not ideal but we have to make this union happen as quickly as possible before any ugly rumours come to the surface."

None of this was new to Anissa so she was able to bring herself to nod and bow her head.

"Yes your grace," she whispered hearing Daemon answer the same way.

"I don't think I have to tell you not to let anybody know about your encounter. If Anissa is already with child the narrative will be that she was impregnated in her wedding night. Until the wedding I want you to keep your heads down and not attract any further attention. I'm specifically directing these words at you, brother," Viserys added with lifted eyebrows, evoking a quiet chuckle in Daemon.

"Of course, brother."

He was about to say something else, but Alicent had inhaled deeply and now took a step forward.

"Your grace," she said trying to sound convinced of herself but the trembling of her voice was prominent.

"Alicent?"

"I beg you not to do this."

Viserys frowned, taking another step down so he was on the same level as her.

"Alicent, do not – "

"She is an innocent," she interrupted him, a fact that made Anissa part her lips in disbelief.

"She most certainly is not an innocent anymore," the king scoffed, glancing at Daemon. "My brother has made sure of that."

"Yes, but my sister did not want it. He has forced himself upon her. It was not an act of love, but one of cruelty and… and of violance."

Viserys sighed, gently grabbing the girl's arm and patronisingly looked down to her.

"What or what did not happen behind the door to your sister's chambers will forever be unknown to me, but it does not matter in this case. All that matters is what has been found on her bedsheet. It is the only evidence that counts. Her purity is gone and the only way to restore her virtue is to wed Daemon. You want what's best for your sister, don't you? Then you should support this union."

Alicent let out a helpless gasp, but then, intimidated by the whole situation, dropped her shoulders and took a step back. Viserys exhaled watching her for a moment before letting his eyes travel to Anissa and Daemon again.

"Everything is set then. You can go now. I will see you on the small council meeting, brother."

With these words Viserys turned around to leave the room through the side door but then seemed to change his mind and cleared his throat again.

"Lady Alicent. A word in private?"

Anissa narrowed her eyes at her sister whose eyes sprang open but she didn't hesitate for a moment when she made her way to the king.

"Of course."

And then it was only Daemon and his betrothed left in the hall. Anissa had dropped her gaze, staring at the ground in fear of breaking down again if she looked at the prince's face and twitched when Daemon put a hand on her arm.

"Shhh… No need to be scared, sweetling," he instantly hushed her and rubbed over her skin in a soothing manner.

Anissa was overwhelmed with the surreality of all of this, feeling reluctant as there obviously still was a large hate for the prince in her but at the same time a part of her felt protected by the softness Daemon radiated at that moment. Apart from her sister, he was the only one who made an attempt to care for her and that even made her forget the fact that he was the source of this whole misery.

It was a natural response to her vulnerability; the girl was like a dying plant, grasping the last anchor that offered her help and safety and that happened to be Daemon, her predator. She sniffed, her gaze burning a hole into the floor of the hall and then twitched when she felt his hand reach to her waist.

"No," the girl said pushing him away and to her surprise he actually removed his hand from her body, putting it on his hip instead.

"Anissa," he then said, raising his chin and looking her up and down.

"What?" her weak voice floated through the air like a frustrated attempt to cling to somewhere safe.

"It's going to be fine," he whispered and although the insides of the girl urged her to scream and shout at him, hit him over and over again with her clenched fists until these piercing, mischievously eyes of his had shut close she didn't. She just stood there, eyes now anxiously flickering over his tall figure and her bottom lip uncontrollably trembling.

"No," she managed to answer and this time didn't react when Daemon stepped a little closer to place his hands on her shoulders.

"Yes. It will be. Because I'm going to protect you from now on. I'm going to protect you from whomever might harm you. I promise you this."

"I don't want your protection," Anissa hissed, almost surprised by the sharpness of her own voice.

"But you will have it nevertheless. You're going to be my wife and I want you to be safe and happy."

She had to laugh in response, shaking his hands off her and watching him in disbelief.

"Happy? You're saying you want me to be happy after you destroyed my fucking life? I'm never going to be happy again and that's entirely your fault!"

A loud sob escaped her mouth and she bent her neck to bury her face in her hands, tears relentlessly pouring down her cheeks. Her body was shivering and quivering, her long hair covering the parts of her face that she didn't already hid with her hands as she broke down right before Daemon's eyes. He watched her for a moment before firmly wrapping his arms around her back and making her body crash against his, despite her winding.

"Shhh…," he purred and she actually stopped fighting him after a few seconds, finding that there was no purpose.

"It's alright. I got you."

Anissa snuggled her face against the curve of his neck, her tears wettening his skin and shirt but it didn't matter to Daemon, as all that mattered was in his arms and now nestled up against his broad chest as though he was her personal savior. Anissa's mind raced with the urge to cling to him and push him away at the same time. It felt so good to just be held without anyone demanding something of her or insulting and shaming her but she couldn't forget that this man had destroyed her life. He was the reason for this whole misery.

"Daemon," she whimpered against his neck that smelled of dry wood and honey and in a great contrast to her actual feeling, Anissa clenched her fists around the fabric of his cloak, pulling it back and forth.

"Yes. I know."

Gone were her accusations and anger, replaced by the comfort his touch offered. Who cared if she was betraying her own morales and made a grave mistake by opening up to Daemon that way, everything was shattered anyway so why not at least do what felt right? And something about this felt right; something about his big hands stroking up and down the small of her back made her chest clench and Anissa made no attempt of pulling back until it was the rogue prince who tenderly held her a few inches away from him which she reacted to with a disapproving moan. His eyes were soft as he moved a strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear, Anissa sniffing loudly before lowering her gaze again.

"I think you need to rest. Have you eaten today?" Daemon asked while brushing with his thumb over her chin. She shook her head, avoiding these intense eyes of his and fumbling with her fingers.

"You need to eat something, little one. No matter how hard this is, you need to have your powers."

"But m'not hungry," Anissa mumbled bringing her thumb to her mouth to nibble at the nail.

"That doesn't matter. How about I bring you to your room and then the servants are going to get you something. You should drink some water at least."

Although she wasn't convinced, the girl weakly nodded and didn't resist when Daemon wrapped an arm around her waist to lead her out of the throne room and through the corridor. Both were silent along the way, the only sound being the echoes of their footsteps that were reflected from the high ceiling.

Once they arrived in her chambers the prince guided her to a chair which Anissa was thankful for, her legs having felt wobbly and weak during the short walk up to her rooms. She folded her hands in her lap, her eyes anxiously following Daemon who sighed and then approached the door to call for a servant.

He left behind a broken girl. A broken girl who had been hurt over and over again the past 48 hours and now clung to Daemon because he showered her with love and protection that she had no choice but to accept. Her father had abondened her, calling her an abomination for the family and now Anissa naturally seeked any kind of affection and love from the people around her. And Daemon was there. He was there to praise and comfort her, telling her that everything would be fine and although her body told her to run, she soaked up everything he gave her. She would soon be his wife anyway so wasn't it the most reasonable thing to try to learn to feel safe in his presence and adjust to him?

These were the kinds of things Anissa told herself while she waited for Daemon's return and when he opened the room and entered with a few servants following, she sank back into the chair, observing the men and women who put various food items on the table in front of her. Everything happened in silence and Anissa wasn't even able to thank them once they were done. Daemon had taken his seat to her opposite and now watched her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"How are you feeling?" he asked and she almost would have laughed at his words had she not felt too exhausted.

"Not great," she instead replied but reached for a jar of juice to pour some in her cup. He watched her silently, almost thoughtfully for a while before pouring himself a cup of wine.

"I told you already. You're mine from now on and therefore under my protection. I know that you're angry because you have to marry me and that fact I won't change, but anything else you want I will give you. You belong to me now, Anissa. And that meant that I will take care of you from now on and not your cunt of a father."

Her face hardened at his words, the memories of the day before coming back to her. Otto, who had screamed at her and accused her of having insulted her mother's memory, Otto who hadn't cared about her at all and instead had given the permission to wed her to Daemon without the blink of an eye. Tears of anger glistened in her eyes as she stared at the cup in her hand, the rogue prince not leaving her out of sight for a brief moment.

"I hate him," she then hissed, her face twisted with agony. "I hate him, Daemon. He abondened me. He… he didn't care about me at all."

"I know," Daemon shrugged with his shoulders, toying with an apple in the basket, his eyes dancing over her frame.

"He is a fool. Perhaps you're able to see it now too."

Anissa inhaled deeply, new tears threatening to spill from the corners of her eyes but she simply couldn't cry anymore.

"Daemon?" she whispered, shyly raising her gaze, a big lump restricting the air from entering her lungs.

"Yes."

"Can you come over here? I just… I c-can't… Please, I…"

Daemon gave her a gentle smile and slowly rose from his chair as he approached her. He seemed to know exactly what she needed right now, taking her face into both of his large hands and cradling her as he held her against his strong body. For a second time tonight, Anissa inhaled his scent, breathing heavily as she felt his radiating warmth prickling on her skin. If he was this cruel and vicious monster, why did it feel so good to be embraced by him? Why did she feel like never pulling back from him right now and why did their bodies fit against each other so naturally?

Anissa was tired although it wasn't even noon yet. She was tired of fighting and thinking, tired of beating herself up for the kinds of thoughts that were swirling in her head and tired of feeling miserable. Daemon seemed to sense it in the way her body collapsed against him and he slid his arms under her shoulders to keep her up.

"Anissa. Do you want to go to bed and rest?"

"I'm not tired. I'm just… exhausted," she whined, her eyes squeezed shut.

"Do you want to sit on the bed at least? You don't have to sleep."

At first there was no reaction, but then she weakly nodded and Daemon gently helped her up and led her to the bed. When he tucked her in, pulling the blanket up to her chin, Anissa felt a warm shiver run down her spine and she watched him with eyes round as coins.

"I don't want to see my father, Daemon. I don't want him anywhere near him."

He nodded in understanding and leaned down to kiss her hairline.

"I know. You don't have to see him."

"He… I… I-I can't believe he puts our reputation and all of that above me. I begged him to listen to me but… but he didn't care."

Daemon sat down on the edge and enclosed his hands around hers.

"He is not a good father to you, sweetling. He is neither brave nor kind and I promise you, I won't let him near you. But listen to me, little girl. You and me belong together now. I know that you are not eager to comfirm this bond under the eyes of the gods but you will be grateful. We are meant for each other and you will see that soon. You will see that I will protect and worship you in a way that you deserve."

Anissa's bottom lip quivered, her chin twisting as she looked down to where their hands were intertwined.

"B-But I didn't want this t-to happen."

"I know, I know. You may not see it now, but I love you, Anissa. And I tend to guard what I love instead of hurting it."

Her eyes widened, taking in his soft features as she tried to figure out whether he was telling the truth.

"But… no, I thought…"

"I know what you thought. But you were wrong. I love you and you are precious to me. More than that. I will not betray you the way your father did and I will not ignore your wishes and needs the way he did. Because you are safe with me. I just need you to open up to me and allow me to take care of you."

Anissa's lashes fluttered, but she softly nodded with her head, her mouth still clenched with uncertainty, but Daemon found that it was enough for today.

"Try to relax now. I know these past hours were stressful for you and you deserve a break. I will look after you soon, alright?"

She nodded again, too stunned to speak but for the first time since long ago the coldness in her stomach seemed overtaken by something new.

A new warmth had spread in her that wrapped around her heart like a warming and soothing blanket that fought the stinging pain caused by the million little wounds.

Not that the pain was entirely gone, but right now it was at least bearable.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@archerxnn @calmingmelody96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @madeinmyownmind-blog

[hrrtshape]

Hi Emma :)) 🌠

I want you to know how much I appreciate you and your way of thinking. Your posts resonate with me so much.

Because of this, i'm hoping you will understand my struggle.

I've known about the concept of manifestation since I was 10-12 yrs old, but at that time I knew it as Law of Attraction (bleh). I've always desperately wanted to transform my life and be a different person, live a different life, because of personal stuff, mental issues etc. So you can guess how excited I was when I found out: there's a way to do this. Unfortunely...no matter how much I tried, I was never able to manifest anything I wanted. So I kinda gave up on it and sunk deeper into despair.

When 2020 came around and I saw this thing called 'shifting' on tiktok it came as the last lifeline. By that point I was doing worse mentally, so I put all my hope into shifting. I tried all the tips and tricks that came up in the last 5 years...with no success. Of course I view shifting from a different lens today than I did 5 years ago, and I have a different understanding of manifestation through the Law of Assumption. But -and not to scare you with an age reveal- learning about manifestation was way over a decade ago for me. And somehow I'm still at the same spot.

Which is weird because I feel like I get what I'm supposed to do: assume - > persist in it. But it doesn’t seem to work? It feels like I'm trying to build a castle with sand bricks in a shallow lake - nothing sticks. No matter what I can't seem to change my mindset? Because I believe my mindset is the issue here. Your post theorizing why some suceed in shifting/manifesting and some don't made me evaulate a bit. So far...I haven't been assuming - I've been performing the assumption and hoping it sticks. Because that's what I was told - if you don't believe it, act as if and eventually it'll become true and natural.

...

But it hasn't. And I've been at it for so long that I kind of just want to move on...? I feel kind of too old to be doing all this. But. Shifting is still kind of my only hope...

Any advice? Lmao

Sorry to dump this all on you...haha

I hope you have a very lovely day and a very lovely life!

-K

K. (cas mentioned) hi !!!!!

i don't think it's weird at all that you feel like this. or tired, or done. most people never even get far enough to realise they were performing assumption, i did that too for a few months until it completely burned me out. and maybe this is where paths divide, because at the end of the day, this isssss a very personal journey for everyone. but me myself, i thought repetition alone could trick my brain. but belief isn't theatre, more so architecture. and yours isn't broken, maybe just a bit vandalised

you're not too old. i don't care if you're 19 or 90 or 900. if you still want it, then you're not done. you just haven't hit the version of you that actually believes she's allowed to win, i think that's the first shift. not about your words, but about whether you think the door opens for you. try deciding that it does

[halfwayhearted]

As We Bloom — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: Where he’s spotted attending one of your matches, and aside from the panic, you feel a wave of… contentment.

Word Count: 1.5K+

Disclaimer/s — Trying to do more blurbs like this… errr. So! Reader is a player for Barca Femeni and 18! Uhhhh, god wow this feels all over the place. I struggled badly if u couldn’t tell

A/N: HI. Another request by @redbulldoesntgiveyouwings ofc! Reading, ‘She’s trying hard to prove herself as a striker, but the wingers aren’t giving her much help. The Barca men notice she’s struggling. Might have a thing with Pau or another younger player. Then, she sees the whole Barca team at one of her matches (Supercopa 2025, VISCA BARCA), and she’s about to cry from all the emotions.’ So! I summarized it, and some might not align with what you said and for that, I’m sorry… but! We came up with a few ideas :3 may you enjoy!

Your first thought was, ‘He’s watching me today?’

And then it was, ‘Oh, my God. Pau’s watching me today.’ For the first time since the two of you made things official, he’s here. You were quick to stiffen, running a rough hand over your face. Get back into the game—you can worry about it later.

You have enough to worry about already, trying your utmost to create chances for your teammates, to no avail—not that you minded. It was an incredibly tough match, but you’d hope.

The two of you had thought it best to keep things private. Private was good, or at least that’s what you thought. As your teammate passed you the ball, you went on autopilot, the simple yet important action snapping you back into reality. He’s here—whoop-de-doo! Come back, will you?

Maneuvering across the pitch with ease, you realized you’d be surrounded if you didn’t pass, so you did just that. You ran farther down and were met with it once again, your gaze trained on the object and the object alone. You were closer…

Closer, and closer. The box was right there.

Acting as if you were about to pass it on, you kept your gaze on Aitana, striking at the last second, your eyes flickering to the net while you watched.

It’s deflected by the opposing player, sending the keeper off-guard, missing by literally just an inch.

Your eyes widen at that, a big, bright grin gracing your lips as you’re quickly surrounded by your teammates, all plastered with matching smiles.

You just fucking scored.

The expression stays on your face even after the final whistle is blown. Why? Because you guys are Supercopa Champions. You guys are champions.

Six to zero sounded crazy.

You contributed.

Upon receiving your medal shortly after, you try to find Pau once again, only to realize it wasn’t just him who came, but Lamine, Héctor—even Balde. It was sickening to you, and your eyes welled up with unshed tears as you made your way to stand beside your team. You watched as Alexia gently took the trophy into her hands and made her way toward you all, bouncing with pure excitement.

Finally, she lifts it up into the air.

This team was your everything, and this moment just solidified that. Cursed chances be damned.

That’s how it was for the next fifteen-ish minutes until things started to wind down. Your smile threatened to widen when you lifted your head once again for what seemed like the tenth time.

He was still here. Not once had he left, not that you expected him to, but you know. It meant a lot.

Pau’s eyes met yours, and he tilted his head, as if asking, ‘Meet you after?’ Uh, duh. You nodded.

As you rushed toward the locker rooms, the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention, sending a thrill of recognition through you. You knew exactly who it was. Whirling around, you discovered your assumptions were spot on. Not only was it him standing there, but the rest trailing behind.

All you truly wanted in this moment was to be in his arms, as corny as that may sound. You need it.

Wasting no time, the excitement that had been coursing through your veins propelled you to jog toward him, your body crashing into his. You heard the sound of his laughter in your ear, making you nestle your face deeper into his shoulder. “I didn’t know you were here, you idiot.”

“I had to,” Pau murmured softly against your neck before pulling back. “That was an insane goal.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but his words were enough to make you endure the pain for just a little while longer. Then, the sound of someone clearing their throat made you wince.

Right… pulling away completely (fighting the urge to squirm under Pau’s lingering hand on the small of your back), you tilt your head. “Thank you guys so much for coming, seriously. It means a lot.”

Lamine winks. “Anything to see the team win.”

“Anything to see the team win?” Your eyebrows raise. “You’re acting like you knew we’d win.”

“Well, didn’t you? Win?” The Fort boy speaks up, his arm lazily slung over Alejandro’s shoulder.

“I mean—” you stammer. “Like, yeah… it was still super rough. Oh, my God! Did you see their foul?”

“You had it though,” one said, and they all agreed.

Oh, you loved them so incredibly bad. “Thank you guys again. Seeing you helped me a lot, I swear.”

Pau quirks a brow at that. “Really?”

“No. Are you kidding me? I almost shit myself just from seeing you alone,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Imagine how I felt finding out you guys were all here.” That was true; you totally panicked.

Laughter fills your ears and you’re glad they’re able to find some amusement in your temporary misery. Then, “It was a good game,” Balde said, his voice soft. “But we have to get going soon.”

“Ah, you’re right! I should go too—uh, I’ll talk to you later?” You utter, looking over at Pau, who shoots his friends a look you don’t understand.

You don’t notice, but they now have knowing looks on their faces as they walk away, offering their goodbyes, which you gratefully return.

Once they’re gone, and it’s just the two of you, he pinches the fabric of your jersey in his fingers and guides you toward him once again, the action causing you to stumble into Pau. Slowly, before you can even process what he’s doing, his lips are delicately on yours. Taking your breath away.

You smile into the kiss, your hands coming to cradle his jaw while his slide over your waist. It’s short; you don’t mind. “Huh, good game kiss?”

“Good game kiss,” he murmured.

“Man, I’ve really got to try and score more, huh?” Your words are teasing, but there’s an underlying truth in them that makes him place another soft peck on your temple. “Are you leaving already?”

Pau shakes his head. “I’ll wait for you out here. Take your time, spend time with the team, yeah?”

“If you insist,” you hum, your hands trailing down to his forearms and you squeeze gently. “I won’t be long—and I know you’ll say that you don’t care, but I do. I’ll be back!” And with that, you leave.

He follows you with his gaze until you disappear from his sight. To think you had been overthinking the entire match just to have it end how he knew it would be was everything, and he hopes you know that you truly do belong here.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedriache + @spidybaby + @levidazai + @ferrarifudds + @iovepoem + @sakashq + @joaoflms + @paucubarsisimp ! ౨ৎ (LMK. LMK.)

[gwynrieldreams]

hello there! i have no idea where to air out these thoughts i've been having for a while now regarding the ACOTAR fandom, but your blog has always felt like a safe place to me so im sending it here haha. and this is NOT trying to cause drama, just genuinely wanted to get this off my chest and see what an outside source thinks.

so im an Elucien mainly, but i've come to love Gwynriel as well, and when i first got into the fandom and came to tumblr for more content i kind of struggled to find accounts that were fully dedicated to Elucien content and so i ended up following a lot of Gwynriels since they were (from what i found) easier to find and a lot of them posted about Elucien as well. I then blocked anti tags, or any nasty accounts i came across, and all was fine and dandy for me on Tumblr up until like maybe a month or two ago. Maybe its because the book announcement anticipation feels real this time and people are getting especially on edge, but the fighting between Eluciens and Gwynriels is getting almost too much for me. I hate seeing it as much as i hate seeing anti posts from E/riel accounts. It's fine to disagree on things and have preferences, that is inevitable and healthy, but i've seen animosity between Eluciens and Gwynriels these days that ive never really seen before (at least in the almost year i've been in the fandom).

I always thought, one of the many beauties of shipping these ships is that you kind of get the best of both worlds. All four characters involved can get their happy endings if things go this route and I love that. I love all four characters, maybe some more than others, but I'm excited for all their stories and get giddy thinking about it. It makes me sad that I see all this fighting, uplifting certain characters by putting down other characters, and i've even seen a couple of Gwynriel accounts i've followed and loved for months and months now stop posting Elucien stuff and I can only assume that is because they now hold negative feelings towards that ship from all this bickering. And I don't really blame them for that either.

Maybe i'm naive for thinking it's typically sunshine and rainbows between Elucien and Gwynriel, but in my experience it was MUCH better like a few months ago/last year. Now I'm contemplating unfollowing or even blocking certain Elucien and Gwynriel accounts that I previously loved and have been following for a while, just cause i dont want to see the hostility between the two, it brings me down!!! I understand we don't need to live in perfect harmony, thats unreasonable, but i've been seeing some posts lately that straight up make it seem like we are rivals. Anyway this was long im sorry, no worries if you dont respond, just thank you for reading and i love your blog!

Thank you so much for your kind words!

I know exactly what you're talking about and even though I'm a gwynriel primarily and love Azriel and Gwyn more than any other character, I still don't like seeing gwynriels fight with eluciens. That's exactly why I don't actively take part in it.

Personally, I don't mind seeing critics of my favourite characters or ships (I don't even block e/riels or the e/riel tag). I can see a negative post and go about my day. I don't mind when people critic Azriel, because I understand he's a very dark character and he's not everyone's cup of tea. In his bonus, all I see is a beautiful metaphor for his heart, but others hate it.

What people need to understand is that Azriel and Lucien are two sides of the same coin similar to Rhysand and Tamlin. Both bastard sons of a (High) Lord, both have been tortured by their own family and bear scars for life, both felt like outsiders, both are spies in their own way, both are insecure and have bottled up trauma, both were in love with women, whom they thought to be their mate (Jesminda/Mor), both have feelings for Elain. I also believe we'll see more parallels between LoA and Azriel's mother. People should focus on finding common ground and respecting tags instead of fighting. Dana has made a beautiful character analysis about them, you can read it here.

In my mind one ship happening means the other will happen, too. Before acosf, I was torn between elucien and e/riel. I believed Lucien was the one for Elain but I also wanted Azriel to get his book. After, acosf with Gwyn coming into play and the bonus, elucien solidified in my mind.

If it makes you feel uncomfortable, you can block the Lucien critical or Azriel critical tag and if that doesn't do it then block the accounts you want.

I hope I helped you and again thank you! I hope my blog continues to be a safe place for you 💙

[thistle--bug]

Watching KinnPorsche for the first time

I finally ended the semester so I am buckling in and watching KinnPorche for the first time (and rambling about it here). I have heard very mixed feedback on it and thought I'd finally watch it to have my own opinion. I honestly have no idea whether I'll like it or hate it but let's go!

Episode 1:

Not that I know much about it, but right off the bat the cinematography is really good. I love all the colorful lighting and wide shots.

Italian mafia is involved I guess?

That intro where we cut back and forth between Kinn and Porsche is *chef's kiss*

Porsche is well established as a character from the start and as cliche as it is, I love when a character's motivation is their sibling :,)

They are very dear to me!

The fight scenes feel well choreographed and exciting to me

Sidenote; Kinn dons truly impressive eyebrows. I keep getting distracted because I'm staring at them in awe

Kinn feels so genuinely threatening in the bar scene where he kidnaps Porsche

I wonder if the show will ever go into classism...probably not but there's a lot of material to work with

Man fuck the uncle. Your nephew works his ass off to pay off a debt and pay for his brothers education and you spend it all? Bitch

Okay initial thoughts: This is really immersive. Kinn so far is kind of just hot-tempered and arrogant, so I'm interested to learn more about him. The tension was really convincing and I wanted to mention the music too! The intro slaps of course, but the background music is chosen very well and adds to the immersion

Episode 2:

Okay what the hell. The first episode had some elements of humor but was very much not a comedy and felt more serious and tense. This is straight up a comedy now and I'm not really about it

Like Porsche did not want to do this job at all because his morals don't align with it, and I would have liked to see him grapple with that more. We saw how panicked he was after he escaped Kinn in the first episode and how he immediately told Porchay to pack his bags and how much he cares about him....and in this episode he doesn't even mention Porchay? He must be worried sick about his brother and it's killing him not to be able to communicate with him. Can we SEE THAT maybe?? And he was so antsy around guns in the first episode that you think he'd struggle with it instead of being like "wow this is just like james bond :D" idk. Maybe I'm nitpicking but his character feels so reduced in this episode.

Oh hi Pete from tumblr gifs :) Glad Porsche at least has a friend who can help him out

Again, did not match the tone AT ALL but I do like Tankhun

Like this was funny but it's just such an INSANE tone shift from episode one. Like it just felt like a gag reel

The minor family is very interested in Porsche for some reason idk, HOWEVER I do recognize Vegas also from tumblr gifs >:)

Anyways. Weird ass episode. I wouldn't mind this if episode one was also like a weird gag reel but it wasn't. I wish they would actually go into the stuff they had set up.

Episode 3:

You know what, good for Tankhun, he needed to go out lol. Curious about the kidnapping when he was younger? Will it be elaborated on?

Oh a fashion icon

Last episode Pete said something about Kinn being kind before something happened, and now Kinn is beating up a guy for embezzling and selling his secret. Curious once again about this guys backstory

Ok we're back to taking Porsche seriously let's go! We're actually addressing his conflicted feelings and how he's essentially doing the same job as the people who hurt him and his family when they couldn't pay their debt on time. And delving into Kinn being more bothered about his job than we thought

GIVE IT UP FOR WOUND TENDING

JEFF SATUR😭💝🥰💓😍💗😚💕

Ok way better than episode 2. We are back on track

Episode 4:

Poor Macau lmao??? Tankhun was like thank you Porsche for hitting him he deserved that and you are now my hero and now Vegas is like yeah sometimes I wanna beat his ass too. This poor kid

"You're afraid that when you open your heart, you will be hurt again?" Damn Vegas. The vibe between these two is rancid. What is their DEAL with each other...

"How did you not know Kinn was gay?" you're kind of right Pete

Kim having a giant portrait of himself framed in his house...iconic. And his crimeboard???

Porsche I'm so sorry :( Will they take him being raped seriously? Probably not

Hm.

I bet Kim is "suddenly" going to offer Porchay guitar lessons after all because he suspects him for...something idk. Whatever the crimeboard is about