#just thinking abt this still makes me hard and writhing

[chimerakeys]

Just had phone sex last night and it was fucking an hour and a half of this stupid goddamn bunny teasing me and refusing to call me a good boy until I broke for him and asked nicely for him.

The nerve of that stupid goddamn rabbit to say to me, “What’s the magic word” just to hear me pathetically stammer out “Please make it stop” then she LAUGHED AT ME??? And said it sounded so pathetic and told me I was a very good boy???

And to top it all off while I’m fucking panting and seeing stars this bastard asks me “See? Didn’t that feel good? Wasn’t that better? You wouldn’t have liked it if I just told you you were good. You wouldn’t be satiated.”

And the worst part is is that she would do this in person too and she only teases me because my reactions are funny?? I gotta fucking ruin this rabbit. Count her fucking days tumblr. It’s over for her.

[cyberm4n]

HI I LOVED UR HYPERSEXUAL FEM READER HEADCANONS UR WRITING IS SO GOOD

Soo I'm here to request the vees (mainly vox but idc) x hypersexual Fem reader pleasee 😭🙏

if not that's okay and I hope you have a nice day/night!! feel free to delete this lol

-xoxo, Ari

THANK YOU <3333 i love the vees and ive been looking for an excuse to write them so this is perfect

vees with hypersexul reader

going with the same scenario as last time- you've just finished a round and (char) is spent but you're already ready to go again

《— vox —》

■ he seems like a 2 rounds kinda guy so after that second round and yall are just laying there he is SPENT

■ so when you roll over to lay on his chest like "one more time?" with a little smile on your face, as if yall did not just violently fuck it takes him a moment

■ he's spent, so spent. but he really wants to please you

■ he'd get used to it tbh. like he's mentally prepared everytime now but maybe sometimes he can do a round 3

■ he'd resort to toys i think, only the best for his girl <3

■ there's also something he loves about getting to hold you and watch you writhe in pleasure and he just gets to watch

■ he'd always take your preferences into mind with toys too. like if you want smth specific he's got it for you

■ i feel like he might prefer if yall are spent at the same time so the foreplay goes CRAZY

■ like it's not just foreplay it's actual rounds of getting you to cum before the main event yk

■ or sometimes he'll just ask if it'd be okay to be done for the night when he is

■ he doesn't mind either way but he'd definitely want to communicate about it

■ so yeah it might take him a little bit to adjust bit he'd be just fine!

《— valentino —》

■ okay let's be real this man fucks A LOT so he can probably do like. 3 or 4 lengthy rounds before he's tapped out

■ it's making me giggle about it but like okay val is a kinky guy, and like especially if the first time yall do anything it's a little bit rougher he is SHOCKED when you're down for more

■ he's prly into something like overstim where normally you kinda gotta reel from it after so when he's done and it takes you like. a minute or two to be like "do you wanna do it again?" he judt looks down at you so confused

■ he takes a moment, blinking. he'd definitely ask if you're kidding or smth and then finding out you're not he has to take a moment

■ like, he finds it fucking awesome but jesus christ he's finally met hsi match

■ he might use toys on you or go down on you, depends how he's feeling tbh

■ i think he'd lean towards going down on you, idk he just seems like he'd be a bit of a munch.

■ and if you're okay with it when yall fuck in the future he's constantly just seeing how far you can go before you're spent

■ long story short he's totally chill abt it when he gets used to it and thinks it's fucking great

《— velvette —》

■ okay im literally giggling and kicking my feet while typing this

■ she seems like a 2 or 3 round kind of gal

■ idk femxfem sex doesn't really go in rounds ime but like. yk.

■ so after she's spent, she's like so ready to cuddle up and sleep. but then you're caressing her cheek, nuzzling into her neck. "again?" you murmur and she has to take a moment

■ cause like, she's just super surprised you're still ready for another.

■ she'd ask the most questions abt it. like she'd want to just know more so she can support you better

■ she'd go down on you tho! anytime! she definitely has toys but she seems like the type to be more inclined to eat you out

■ if she gets tired of that she'd use a toy on you. but she stays engaged the whole time, super attentive.

■ she's a service switch so like getting to keep you pleased like this makes her feel good and she doesn't mind at all

■ once again, all of them would embrace it and they do not mind at all!

■ if you guys with the poly hc for the vees i think it just makes it so much better for them to know it's really hard to burn you out

■ i loved this request ty <3

taglist: @reaper-of-light-12 @mxxny-lupin @wisteria-songs @t3llas @concentratedconcrete @pansexual-opera-house @dionysusismypatrongod

taglist form

[a1yaaaa]

thinking abt using logan howlett's lil kitty-ear hair tufts as handlebars (nsfw)........

in truth, it's hard not to while he's fully making out with your pussy, eating it up like a man starved; suckling your clit, flicking & massaging the spit-slicked bud.

anyhow, logan adores having his hair pulled, tugged on harshly by your soft fingers, as you whimper & writhe under his desperate ministrations. the sharp sting of pain at his scalp each time your hands want him closer - further - only has him groaning into your juicy folds, rutting his painfully hard cock into the mattress.

still, it usually doesn't stop you from apologizing through little gasps & mewls, shaky hands fussing and smoothing down the supple, brown strands of his hair guiltily. yet, all this really does is prove to logan that - if your brain's still capable of worrying? - your pussy must need a few more earth-shattering orgasms.

his large, warm hands will only run up your thighs reassuringly in response, bending your legs further and spreading them wider for him - a vocal lover by nature, he'd normally have rumbled with a cocky grin, "what, don't wanna hurt me, princess? afraid i'll like it?", or maybe even moaned, "fuck that, baby... use your hands, put me right where you want me," though right now? nothing's pulling his mouth away from this delicious fucking cunt of yours.

you do eventually get the message though, and its heaven for him - manicured nails clawing at his nape, fingers grasping handfuls of his hair and shoving his face right into the intoxicating scent of your arousal. the thrill of the pain mixes with the intoxication which comes from hearing and tasting your honeyed pleasure. it's all enough to have his pretty, forest-hued eyes rolling back into his head and his dick leaking pre onto the sheets.

in the end, you just might be able to force his mouth off your abused, oversensitive pussy once he's pulled at least two or three orgasms from you - of course, only after he's licked your hole clean from all the juices you've gushed for him.

it's after the fact - after logan has pounded whatever remaining energy you had left right out of your pretty self - as his thick arms cradle you against his warm, fuzzy chest, his dick still half-hard against your hip, that you let your digits explore his earthy strands once more.

this time, it's softer, delicate - he watches you through heavy, loving eyes as you fiddle with his sweaty, mussed-up hair, carefully carding it back into a pair of kitty-like tufts. "mm, there's my man," you hum with a pleased lil giggle.

his laugh joins yours - quiet & rumbling - big hands rubbing up your sides with affection, "really oughta get you this blissed out more often, babydoll..."

[blueberrycig]

cant stop thinking abt coach zweig plsss this is to honour @amymbona

more specifically coach zweig helping you release some tension after an injury (18+ obvi)

just how hard he is on you and how much he enjoys seeing you pushing your body against all boundaries just to please him, like..

cricket chirps have been filling the air as the street lights flicker on and you push your body through the final set of drills. you don’t know how much more you can take as your muscles scream for a five-minute break, but his eyes are on you. he’s staring you down, an unchanged expression from the moment you strolled into morning practice that has now tumbled into the dark. this is becoming expected.

coach zweig’s voice bellows across the court, addressing you by name, "that backhand is sloppy. play like you mean it," his voice is made of hard stone. “how badly do you want this?” 

you gulp down the anxiety building in your throat, your eyelids heavy from exhaustion. you’ve been at this for weeks since you won the last challenger because “complacency is the death of winners.”

the statement rings out in your brain. you dig deep and the cool night air blows on your neck as a sign of encouragement from the earth. you summon every ounce of energy, never faltering under the unyielding eye of coach zweig and sprint towards the net for a drop shot. you push that bit too hard though, landing awkwardly on your left foot. 

the result is a shooting pain striking through your ankle and up your leg. you stumble, succumbing to the ground, clutching your ankle with a gasp. even in the most intense pain, you’re reluctant to show weakness in front of your coach. you are blinking back stinging tears and reducing any outward cries to meek whimpers. 

he’s at your side instantly, "what happened?" 

his voice carries concern. possibly not because you’re hurt and writhing in pain, but because the country’s newest tennis prodigy is hurt. meaning cancelled games, sponsorships and most of all, a loss of income. 

“i think i-ah- i- rolled it,” you wince but attempt to rise and continue the practice. you know the implications of this as well as he does. “i’ll be okay- ah- fuck.” 

"stop moving," harsh, yet the foundations are gentle and quiet. "let me take a look."

carefully, he examines your ankle. you flinch under his probing and cling your arm around his wide shoulders for some comfort, instinctively leaning into him. under the firm and cautious touch of your ankle, it’s the most warmth you’ve received since he started coaching you. 

the lingering smell of marlboro reds consumes your nostrils. another vice he prohibits you from enjoying. no smoking, no drinking, no late nights and especially, no sex. anything that can affect your game is off limits, much less a rocks-for-brains frat boy.

he hopes you’re smarter than to let someone who didn’t deserve to be even near you get a chance to be with tennis’ up-and-coming star girl. it will ruin the illusion. you’re sweet, pure, virginal and inaccessible. the country’s sweetheart, coached by former champion, patrick zweig. a dynamic duo. he coaches, you listen. he asks you to jump, you say “how high?” it’s the way you work, and the way you both make your money. 

he does truly believe you won’t embarrass him by letting some college idiot into your untouched panties, yet for now, he’ll continue to drill the rules into you.

“it’s swelling" he observes. “let’s get some ice on this."

he supports your weight into the physiotherapy room, an arm still wrapped around him. you’re so frustrated with yourself, the pain almost enveloping that of the injury. it’s becoming increasingly difficult to hold back tears of annoyance and a few slip out, despite your best efforts. 

you hiss curses under your breath as zweig guides you to the massage table and props your leg up on a foam block. your eyes are squeezed shut as you beat yourself up. you need to do better. be the best. he wouldn’t be so hard on you if you just stopped fucking up like this. you pray to whatever tennis god is listening that you’ll be able to practise tomorrow. 

you’ll be up at 5am - fuck 4am - if it means you aren’t put out for the season. 

zweig, as intuitive as any good coach, can pick up on your anguish, “stress isn’t going to help you.” 

he attempts to reduce the swelling with a cold pack, which he lays gently on your ankle. it’s a welcome relief that means you can finally exhale the air you’ve been holding in, but the pain is still evident. 

he sits next to you. you’re scanning his face for any mirrored worry as he runs his hand through black curls and scratches light stubble growing on his face.

guilt suddenly courses through your stomach, and tears begin to puddle again as you whisper towards your tennis skirt, "i’m sorry, coach. i messed up.”

“do you know why i push you so hard?” he asks. “because i see your potential. more than you do. you can be one of the best, but you’re not going to get there without someone actually giving a fuck about you.” 

you nod at him with big, wet eyes, experiencing a foreign sensation of comfort. you take a deep breath, in and out, for some extra pain relief, but gasp again in hurt when the foam brick shifts beneath your ankle. 

your coach shoots up in an instant, gently fixing it back in place. 

“small movements,” he murmurs, rearranging the ice pack. “is it just your ankle?”

“i don’t know,” you respond, tears falling quietly and rolling down your neck. “everything hurts. i’m so tired.”

he’s hit with a flash of regret, watching you swallow your sadness on the table and eyes flowing silently. if he’s a sick man, he’ll tell himself right now that he’s always preferred you when you’re crying. there’s something about you, so young and malleable. especially when you’re looking up at him for an answer or begging for a break. eyes twice as big and lip quivering with shame. like a little battered puppy. 

he reassures himself that he’s not a sick man - that he’s your coach who wants the best for you, but the cock twitching against his shorts says otherwise. you’ve honestly never looked prettier.

he’s sincerely trying not to think with his dick right now. he did enough of that in his twenties. he doesn’t fuck everything that moves now. he’s devoted his life to tennis after entering the coaching route and realising it’s where he was destined to be the entire time. 

in fact, patrick zweig is engaged now. yes, engaged. to an inoffensive woman named claire, who makes birthday cakes and doesn’t complain when patrick spends all his free time on the court. she’s actually a pretty composed woman, well-put together and a child of god, which is much more than anyone expects of patrick zweig’s lovers. 

long are the days of chasing pussy, fucking people he isn’t supposed to fuck, sexual entanglements with people who now want his head on a spike and especially, sleeping with people a little too young for him. 

he constantly hammers into himself, professional coaches do not think about their players this way, eyes trailing up your legs to the top of your curved ass as you bend down for your morning stretch, i think i’m addicted to sex. 

this revelation makes him go harder on you during training. that if you work hard enough, coach zweig begin to see you as an actual respectable player rather than someone he would have pulled his eyes out to fuck 10 years ago. 

but now you’re laying in the physiotherapy room, whimpering and overwhelmed. clutching onto his arm for some affection, and looking to him for resolve like some sort of injured baby bird. your tennis skirt is sinfully riding up from the position you’re in, revealing your dainty white panties that are printed extremely informatively. they let him know that it’s tuesday, with the tiniest ribbon bow to finish them off. 

he’s convinced you’ve been sent here as a test from the god claire prays to. 

“does it hurt here?” he asks, gently pressing into your lower calf. your skin feels like satin, barely a mark on it. you nod, biting into your bottom lip. “have you been getting enough rest?” 

you shake your head - of course you haven’t, the last few nights have been coupled with anxiety due to your burgeoning tennis career. he moves slowly up your leg, grabbing gently to see where the pain eases off. his hands feel rough from years of clutching onto rackets. 

“you remember our rules, right?” 

“yes, no drinking, no drugs, no boys.” your voice is trembling, but growing steadier as he massages thumbs into your knees. “focus on training, follow the dietary plan, get enough sleep.” 

coach zweig nods to himself and continues to feel your skin, “and why do we have those rules?” 

“because if i want to be the best, i need to be disciplined. no distractions. committed to you.” 

“exactly,” zweig confirms, giving your knee a squeeze reassuringly. “i would have killed to have someone look after me like i look after you. these rules are there to help you, keep you focused - not break you. they’ll protect you from things that can derail your dreams.” 

he’s smoothly runs his large hand in languid circles from knee to thigh, in an attempt to offer some gentleness. with each loop, he gets dangerously close to your sweet underwear. but he’s just making you feel better. like any sane person would. he doesn’t miss how your nipples are rock hard and pushing against the fabric of your little tennis dress. 

“i know,” you say, looking up at him. “sometimes it feels like too much. like i’m not allowed to live a normal life. girls my age, they’re going out - having fun - i’ve never even spoken to a boy off the court.” 

so you want fucked.

a small nagging part of him feels bad. you look so relaxed lying there, ice pack finally numbing your ankle, his fingertips running comfortingly up and down the length of your inner thigh. maybe he’s been expecting too much without giving you enough space to breathe, subjugating your needs and desires. maybe he could fix this. balance is important. he’ll remedy this the only way he’s ever known how, all while sticking to your shared mantra.

after all, he isn’t a boy. he’s the only man who knows what's best for you. 

so, he bites the bullet, and lets his fingertips go where they haven’t ventured, where they’ve always desired. your breath hitches in your throat as his hand ghosts over your panties, hovering and roaming the skin around the vicinity. you clutch his arm, unsure what his plans are. “relax, relax,” he reassures softly, taking his other hand and weaving it in your hair to forcefully look at him. “you’re so tense, let me help you.” 

your eyes are blazing into his, blinking back any alarm. he’s only trying to help you. he’s looking at you so caringly, an expression you’ve never been privy to. 

while clinging onto his arm still, you nod, aching to feel some semblance of relaxation. your heart is beating a hundred miles a second, looking up at your coach, who is now slowly rubbing over your cotton panties. you feel panicked,

“coach, i-i’ve never-” 

you’re swallowing your breath, consumed with heat and emotion. “i know, baby. you need to relax.” he murmurs. “i’ve got you.” 

you exhale, letting coach zweig guide your head to rest against the side of his torso, securing the back of your neck in his free hand. you’re both now watching what he’s doing to you as you pool with pent-up desire. 

his movements are painfully slow, letting you get used to his rhythmic motions. the slothful actions tease the fabric against your aching clit, causing you to burrow into his rigid body and catch the sinful moans in your throat. 

he’s hard as a rock, throbbing, as you mewl into the side of his body, hiding for protection. god, you’re so innocent and little. letting your coach make you feel better because he knows better than anyone else what’s good for you. 

he slides down beneath the cotton, his fingers locating your aching warmth with ease. jesus, how could you be so drenched already? he dips into your slick, gathering your honey up so he can smear it all over your clit. he loops, over and over, and over again, with sloppy, lazy movements. 

“ah, oh my-” you breathe, unable to contain your voice any longer. you're holding onto his abs now, clutching onto the foreign feeling before you lose yourself completely. “ah, i-” 

fuck, zweig never thought he would have you like this, always shoving the fantasy to the back of his mind for the sake of a monotonous life. you’re absolutely pulsating and falling apart beneath him, experiencing an obscene form of pleasure for the first time in your life. all thanks to him. 

what he would do to throw you right over that massage table, those little tuesday panties tangled around your ankles and slam his dick right into your tiny, pulsing virgin hole. 

he knows you’re begging for more now, gripping onto him for dear life. he can feel your throbbing clit pleading for him to go faster against his fingers. so he listens.

“does that feel good?” he knew it was a silly question considering you were practically going in and out of reality, consumed by a haze that you never wanted to escape. you’re desperate for coach zweig to make you feel like this forever.

“y-yes,” you mix in with a whimper, “thank you, coach.” 

zweig tries to contain himself at how fucking slutty you sound - coach - he’s feeling fire erupt in his lower abdomen, his cock begging to be touched by your little, pure hands. but not now. 

time is slowing for you as zweig sends waves of electricity coursing through your body. what the fuck is this feeling? the coil in your stomach is beginning to release, white static beginning to encroach on your vision. 

your moans and whimpers are building as you return yourself onto the back rest, taking coach zweig’s other hand tightly in both of yours. you grip him into the valley of your breasts, chest heaving up and down as you clutch onto him and succumb to the pleasure. you release with a noise you didn’t think you could produce.

your body feels like it’s made of jelly. gooey and melting. there’s a sheen of sweat where you’re holding zweig against you, and all down your legs, gleaming in the clinical light. 

coach zweig removes his soaking fingers from your underwear and fixes your dress back in place. his face has returned to it’s usual stoicness. 

he comes close to you, eye-to-eye, one large hand enveloping your hip,

“if you ever feel like breaking the rules, you come to me from now on, okay?” 

you nod furiously at him, aching to feel his hands against you again and suddenly feeling cold with him not playing with you anymore. 

you both convince yourself that night, he’s just doing what any coach would do.

[hyunsvngs]

hi frennn I can’t stop thinking abt reader and jisung dry humping while making out and both needing and pee so y’all just piss on each other while kissinggg!!!! 😵‍💫😖‼️ this sounds very hawt to me so I jus wanted to share with youuuu<3 also you awakened a hidden piss kink within me lmaoo😭 ty😘

🌙anon

i’m stoned but this has been sitting in my askbox and now this feels like the fucking time.

“i- mm, sung, sung-ah, kiss me,” you whine, hips drilling upwards into his. it’s messy and you’re so wet you’ve leaked through your panties by now, on your second or third orgasm since you’ve started clumsily rutting your hips together like horny virgins. it always gets like this when he gets back from tour - you get too het up while he’s gone and he gets even worse.

his lips messily drag from your neck to kiss you, and his tongue swirls around yours. jisung’s drooling, you realise, and he’s started to release those throaty whines you love. he attempts to keep up the pace of his hips but he can’t, too desperate for your mouth, so you suck on his tongue until you’re satisfied and let him kick his rhythm up again.

“my baby’s pussy’s so wet,” he coos, hands moving to your hips. he’s essentially pinning you down to grind against you but it doesn’t work - you wriggle and writhe while he speaks filth in that slurred voice. “i c-can - fuck, baby, stay still, lemme- fuck, i can feel how wet you f-fucking are, baby.”

“yeah, m’ wet, jisungie, fuck!” you whine, clit throbbing dully, and jisung’s hips halt against yours again. you want to kick your feet and throw a tantrum, but suddenly he’s looking at you, dark eyes pleading.

“i gotta piss,” he mumbles, nose brushing against yours. his cock is hard against your pussy and you realise he’s probably finished already too, with how wet they are on the front, but he still wriggles desperately between your thighs. you don’t even realise what he’s said, cheeks flushed, and he huffs out a laugh. “i g’ta piss, like, now. i’ll go-“

your legs wrap around that slim waist before he can move an inch. “no! no, jisungie, here, here, do it here, and-“

his eyes widen, but he’s nodding, his hips kicking up slowly. “h-here? fuck, fuck, yeah! baby, baby, you’ll let me? fuck, let me piss here, baby, please.”

and you nod, whining. jisung’s still nodding and you see his jaw clench as he lets go. his own head ducks down to watch it spread through your sleep shorts, his boxers positively drenched in it, and he huffs out a moan. when his hand moves down to wrap around his dick, just barely pumping it a few times while he pisses, you think you might cum from the sight alone.

when he’s done his knees slide in it in his haste to get back to you. jisung keens when his cock makes contact with your cunt again - through fabric still, but now so wet it doesn’t matter, the slide so slick it has you seeing stars.

“f-fuck! fuck, yeah baby, this is so- so fuckin’ hot, shit,” he huffs, and you giggle, nodding deliriously. “it’s- it’s like i’m markin’ you as m-mine, baby, all mine.”

[moonrisecoeur]

SUB LEON THOUGHTS YA SAY? can't stop thinking abt overstim with him. just making him cry pretty tears yet he doesn't complain or ask you to stop bc he loves being used and touched by you. poor silly puppy

first off HI BESTIE THANK U FOR SENDING THIS >.<

secondly, awwhhh he’s so cute though, just imagining him getting overstimmed… think i’m feeling re4 leon for this one ^-^

he’s all stoic most of the time right? he’s a little softer around you, but most of the time he’s cool and composed, he can control himself. at least he thinks he can.

i think leon would just really like to be used like this because like he doesn’t have to do anything but just sit there and take it. there’s no mission he can possibly mess up or someone to be disappointed in him. all he has to do to be good for you is writhe and whimper like he already does so well!!

“p-please, baby, i- fuck- know i can’t handle it—”

“oh i know you can, sweet thing,” you mutter to him, enjoying the way his body trembles, knowing the power you had over him in this moment.

he’s just so lost in that submissive headspace, it’s so pretty to watch. he can’t put any coherent thoughts together, he can barely open his eyes to see you, his sweet lover. he can’t see properly, it’s all blurry from the tears in his eyes.

he heaves and hiccups through his sobs as you shush him, comfort him when he’s this mentally out of it, “shh, darling, it’s okay. let it out. know you need to cry, it’s okay. let me see your pretty face covered in tears, see your pretty eyes all wet.”

he gasps, crying out that he’s gonna cum again. you haven’t been counting but you can judge by the fact that he looks like he’s on the brink of passing out that he’s had enough.

…but then again, leon has told you before he’s okay with you pushing his boundaries, pushing him further and further. he likes it when you both know he can’t handle any more, and you still force his body to take it.

so you continue, but watchfully look for any signs that you need to stop. you find none, “good boy, taking your orgasms so well.”

he doesn’t respond, too fucked out.

“don’t even have it in you to respond to me? that’s not very polite of you, baby.”

this wakes him up, brings him back to reality. he tries so damn hard to say something, anything, and nothing comes to his mind, so he ends up babbling his apologies, crying for you forgive him.

“it’s okay, sweetheart. know you’re going through a lot right now,” you’d giggle, and his heart still leaps when he hears that sound, “how about you give me one more? you think you can do it?”

he shakes his head, no, god no, i’m literally going to black out, he thinks to himself. up to you if you force him to take one more, or show mercy. 🫶

[boytumms]

Okay don't mind me, I've just been reading too much about various sorts of mythology stuff and... old myths genuinely have a lot more weird pregnancy things than you'd expect (I still find the fact that Odin's eight-legged horse in Norse mytholohy is the son of Loki - whom Loki was pregnant wirh anf gave birth to, mind - way too funny, although that's completely beside the point), so... this isn't inspired directly by a specific myth, but reading random mythology stuff is kinda what put this into my mind

Anyway, I've been thinking of a boy who somehow manages to royally piss off a fertility god. Perhaps he defiles their shrine, or steal some sacred item or mess with their priest - or maybe him just refuses to do something the god wants him to do. And because gods are so well-known for never being spiteful and always giving proportionate and reasonable punishments (extreme sarcasm), the god curses the boy to become pregnant, but unable to give birth unless some extremely specific conditions are met. Maybe he can only give birth at one specific location, or has to eat some specific hard-to-aquire thing to induce labor, or it's one of those seemingly impossible and contradictory "neither at sea nor on land, neither at day nor at night, neither alone nor with other people" kind of conditions (i pulled that specific one out of my ass but you can find similar kind of contradictory and stupidly specific shit in mythology sometimes, you get my point), or some combination of the above, or some other stupidly specific and unintuitive condition, idk.

And the boy doesn't know the condition, of course. The first nine months he simply waits for the pregnancy to run its course, but as the months stretch on past the ninth, past the tenth, with no sign of the pregnancy coming to an end, he realizes he's not getting off the hook that easily. By then, of course, he's so heavily pregnant that everything is difficult - he can't walk very far at once at all, he needs ridiculous amounts of fabric to have clothes that fit, the baby - or babies, rather; he can't tell but he thinks he must have two or three in there - are restless and kick and writhe so he hardly has a moment's peace from them...

So he becomes searching for some solution, some way to birth the babies. First whatever conventional ways there are to induce labor. None of them do anything. He prays and makes sacrifices to the god, groveling and apologizing and begging for relief. No response. Then, he begins to seek out wise people, priests and oracles and shamans, first close by, then traveling further and further away to find someone who could tell him what to do.

It takes years, years of incredibly difficult travel, of weird looks from others and humiliation and yet often having to rely on the aid of other people to get to wherever he's going this time, because really he's in no state to travel except he doesn't have a choice. After the initial nine months, the babies do seem to grow slower than before that, but they do still grow little by little, making the burden quite literally heavier to bear, and they are restless in his womb, as though they too would know it is well past their time to be born already.

But finally, after years of searching, years of torment, the boy finds out the condition, and figures out a way to fulfill it. Once that is done, though, there's still the incredibly long and painful process of labor and giving birth to the babies, now much larger than his body ever was designed to give birth to...

I loooove perpetual pregnancies like this!!! It could even be similar to the Greek story abt Leto, so he’s in labor as he tries to figure out how to break his curse. Imagine him having to suffer through contractions, feeling his baby’s head sooo painfully low in his hips as he tries to push but the curse prevents it from coming out all while he’s in search of a way to give birth.

After years and years of searching, his babies become massive. Even with the slowed growth, they’d be the size of 2-3 year olds by the time he finally manages to fill the conditions to progress his labor. Maybe as he’s finally giving birth to his first baby, the god that cursed him decides to come down, just to torment him one last time before his punishment is over. There’s nothing the boy can do to get way from the god, belly pinning him to the ground with the weight of his writhing babies, unable to escape the wrathful god. Each time his baby comes to a crown, the god pushes it back in, making his scream is sob in agony, begging to be let go as it makes his tummy twist and writhe. He tries to kick and push the god away, but he’s too weak after carrying such a burden with him for so many years, completely helpless in the hands of his tormentor.

It goes on for days, weeks even, the god switching between pushing his babies back into his belly, then and painfully squeezing the swell to watch him thrash. Once they’re sure he’s learned his lesson, they let the last baby slip out between his trembling legs, leaving him exhausted, alone, surrounded by half a dozen massive babies as he’s finally allowed to pass out

[friendsoup]

WHEN I TELL YOU I WAS ON THE FLOOR READING THE SOBER THOUGHTS FIC⁇⁇⁇⁇⁇⁇⁇⁇ IT WAS SO GOOD ESP FOR MEDICINE POCKET.... WOULD IT BE ALRIGHT TO ASK FOR A PART 2 TO IT? like how reader finally sobers up but doesn't exactly remember what had happened after they got hit with diggers atk until pocket and dikke explain it to them ⎯ bla bla BLAH reader is flustered and embarrassed, frantically trying to hide away and make excuses for their actions even though they were completely pure truths of their affections towards them, and even going as far as to say "Pretend it never happened/you didn't hear it!" how wld pocket and dikke react ... or more like, return reader's feelings while also being embarrassed abt the situation

Sober Thoughts Pt 2

Recipe: Romantic fluff, Proper confessions, Hungover! Reader, Reader x Medicine Pocket, Reader x Dikke, GN! Reader, Devoted Dikke, Playfully teasing Medicine

WC: 1,979 (one day I'll get 1999)

Chef's Note: OUGH sorry this took so long!!! I'm working on like. 3 fics at once. I just happened to finish this one first lmao. I hope it's what you were looking for! I certainly had fun writing it!

The first thing that comes to you is the pounding in your head.

It feels like someone’s beating you with a hammer, a dull thud banging over and over again into your temples. Your brain feels like it’s being squeezed, making it hard to think, or comprehend anything but the pain. Has it always hurt so much to live? 

Against all better reasoning, you attempt to open your eyes. Slowly, they peel open, instantly flooded by the lights and colors of your room. It feels like a stab to the eyeballs, your head throbbing in response. You groan, squeezing your eyes shut. Since when does seeing hurt to do? “You’re awake.” You hear a familiar voice say. Cautiously, you turn your head again, peeking out of one eye. And there they are. Medicine Pocket, sitting right next to your bed. Their hair is undone, falling over their shoulders in a messy cascade. Their eyes look tired, but they’re still managing to pull a smile. “You’ve given everyone quiiiiite the heart attack.” They chuckle, poking your forehead. “Come on, sit up. I have some water for you.” That is music to your ears. 

You scooch upwards, your sore muscles screaming at you to stop. It feels like you’ve just ran a marathon, your body inexplicably pained by… something. Something you can’t quite remember. Medicine shoves a cool glass of water in your hands, and instantly you feel better. Just the cold touch of the glass is enough to relax you, and when you put the glass to your lips? The relief is like no other. You gulp it down greedily, finishing the cup in a matter of seconds. You hand it back to Medi, feeling slightly better.

“Bunny Bunny has something she calls a ‘hangover cure’ that she’s cooking up for you.” Medi states, snorting. “Apparently it’s popular. Both Pavia and Centurion swear by it.” You can barely comprehend what they’re saying, your mind swimming in pain. But the sound of their voice is comforting. You’re glad they’re here, next to you, during this time of need. However, there’s something on your mind. “What… what happened last night?” Your confusion makes Medi burst out into laughter. You writhe in pain as the sound hits your ears, the shrill laughter doing nothing for your headache. You shrink down into your bed, hitting your head against the pillow as you prepare for something terrible to come out their mouth. “You got hit by one of Diggers’ bubbles.” Medi explains between laughter. “You were out of it.” You groan, bits and pieces returning to you. “When we got you to the suitcase, you nearly fell face first down the stairs. I had to catch you.” “Nooooo…” “You started petting Pickles, then broke into tears over how fluffy he was.” “Noooooooooo, don’t remind mee…” You hide your face under the covers. “You sang karaoke with Regulus. I have it on camera.” “Nooo you don’t! Pocket, come oooon…” “You also told me you loved me.” You freeze, suddenly tensing. Surely you didn’t… did you? “Oh.” Is all that can escape you. “That’s…” You bite your lip, not knowing what else to say. “You said I’m smart, and skilled in battle, and stupidly beautiful.” They trail on.

Your face feels as if it’s on fire. You want them to stop, yet you can’t make the words. 

“You said you think about me at night, and that every time I look at you I set you on fire.” “Please, please stop!” You beg, tears beginning to well in your eyes. You can’t stand the teasing any longer, it’s too much. “Just forget about it, alright?! I wasn’t in my right mind. I was out of it! Just act like it never happened, okay?!”

Medi flinches back at your sudden resistance. You’ve never snapped back at their teasing before. This was new. Had they accidentally hit a nerve? 

“Hey, I’m-” “No, just stop! I know you want to continue to make fun of me, but I can’t take it! Everything hurts, and I ruined our friendship, and I just want to be left alone so I can rot forever!” You sob, tears rushing from your eyes now. Your head pounds further, but nothing hurts as bad as the tear in your heart. “[Name]!” Medi exclaims. “I’m sorry!” “You’re…” You wipe your face with your blanket. “What?” “I’m sorry. For teasing you.” Medi rubs at their neck, staring at the ground. “I didn’t know you’d be a big baby about it. I’m sorry.” You blink. For as long as you’ve known Medicine Pocket, they’ve never apologized. You didn’t think it was possible for them to. That they’d explode if they ever tried. Though it wasn’t the most ideal apology, it was more than what you were used to from them. “But.” Medi continued, slowly. “I can’t just forget about it. I’ve been thinking a lot about what you’ve said.” A blush falls upon their cheeks. “[Name], you make me happy. Like, really happy. There’s something about your idiotic face that makes it hard for me to think straight. I’ve never… I’ve never really felt that before. For anyone. It’s weird and confusing, and sometimes I think I hate it. But I want to be with you. Even if it’s just for a bit.” “Medicine…” You look up at them, eyes as round as saucers. “Yeah?” They ask, catching their breath. “You picked the worst time to confess!” You break into a smile, wincing at the sudden movement. “Really? While I’m hungover of all things?” You reach out a hand, playfully pushing them away. “At least I’m not doing it mid-battle! Like some of us.” They playfully whap you back, a smirk returning to their face.

The two of you laugh, before falling into a pleasant silence. “I’d like to give us a shot, [Name].” Medi says, bashfully looking towards you. “I’d like that too.”

Drunk Words pt 2

You have a nightmare that night. In your dream, a large eagle with red eyes stares daggers into you, while you attempt to escape from it’s twisted forest.

No matter where you turn, it’s always ahead of you, it's bird face full of hatred. You duck under branches, twist between trees, and hide under brush, but you can still feel it’s glare wherever you go. Always lurking.

Always ahead. You wake with a start.

The first thing you notice is that you’re covered in sweat. Your clothes stick to your body, making it nearly impossible to move and breathe. It’s a gross sensation, nearly unbearable, made worse by the fact that it’s paired with a killer headache.

Your head pounds, your stomach churns, and everything feels hot and close. You feel as though there’s been a great pressure placed on you, and it’s slowly crushing you into the bed. You force yourself to sit up, wiping your wet forehead with an equally wet arm. Your vision is hazy, blurred and swirling as the room rocks around you. It takes you a moment to realize that you’re in your room. And that there’s someone at the door. The eyes from your nightmare fall upon you, as blank and as cruel as you remember them to be. You flinch back, then flinch again at the pain, as your head spins in confusion. Wait. You know that red glare! “Dikke?” You ask. You didn’t realize it until now, but your mouth is horribly dry. It feels like someone shoved cotton into your jaw and left you to choke. “Yes, M’lord?” Dikke asks, standing up a bit straighter. “What are you doing in my room?” Dikke’s face goes red, her eyes falling to the floor. “Making sure you’re protected, M’lord. I couldn’t be too careful.” Now, you might be out of it, but you’re pretty sure there’s no threats nearby. What the hell was Dikke talking about? “From…what?”

Dikke’s face grows more embarrassed, as she lowers her head now, trying to shield her expression. “You see, you were… compromised last night. You were in a vulnerable state. I had to make sure you got the rest you needed to recover, and that no one took advantage of your stupor.” Well that was at least sweet. You think. Not that you suspect anyone in the suitcase would really do that. The worst would be Tennant, who’d probably try to swindle any remaining money out of you. But other than that? You trusted the people you worked with.

Slowly, memories return. “Oh,” You groan, the cause of all this hitting you like a freight train. “I got hit by one of Diggers’ bubbles, didn’t I?” You sigh, dragging your fingers through your hair. “I didn’t do anything too embarrassing, did I?”

Dikke shakes her head. “You wanted to go out and, uh, socialize, but I put an end to that. Once we got back, I made you dress and go straight to bed. To prevent any further harm from being done.” You sigh in relief. “That’s good. Thank you, Dikke.” “Except- there was one thing.” 

Oh no.

“You…” She stumbles over the first word, you can see she’s struggling to get it all out. “You told me that… Well, the thing is, you said something. And I… I’m simply wondering… Ah, no, that’s not it.” You lean forward, intrigued by the hesitation. “You told me that you loved me.” She finishes, giving a pitiful look to you. “Gah! What? I did?” You exclaim. You don’t remember that at all! “How- What- Huh?” “It was not a full confession.” Dikke admits. “You told me that I was beautiful, and then exclaimed ‘I love you’. But you were quite out of it…” Her expression twists between sad and expectant. It’s clear that she wants you to say something, but you aren’t sure what. “I probably didn’t mean it in a romantic way!” Probably? God, could you be any less convincing?! “I probably just meant it as a friend thing! You know? How friends call each other beautiful and stuff?” You’re sweating bullets all over again, making the bed even more uncomfortable. “Ah.” Dikke looks quite defeated, her gaze returning to the ground. “So you mean to tell me, you do not have romantic feelings for me?” What are you even supposed to say?! The brave knight of justice has never looked so pitiful or small. She looks like a gentle wind could blow her down! You bite the inside of your cheek, closing your eyes as you try to find the correct words to say. “If I did have romantic feelings for you, hypothetically, what would you say?” You ask, opening one eye to study Dikke. “That my heart burns for you as well. And that I want to pledge my unyielding loyalty to you, and to our love.” She states, bowing. “Well, what if, again hypothetically, I said I wanted to take it slow at first? Ease into the whole, unyielding loyalty thing.” “Oh.” You see the gears turning in her head as she stands up straight. “Yes, I’m sure I can do that too.” She coughs into a closed fist, glancing away.

“Then, well…” You sigh. “I do like you. And I do want to take things slow.” You admit, crossing your arms. The light which appears in Dikke’s eyes are like no other. She’s like a kid seeing a christmas tree for the first time, all wonder filled and bright. She runs to your side, kneeling at your bed. Looking up to you with so much admiration, you could swear it was almost worship. “You’re being truthful, M’lord? Yes?” “Yeah, I am.” You sink under her gaze, not used to it being so soft. It’s cute. Too cute. “Then I will be your knight, yours and yours alone, to defend you and follow you to the ends of the earth.” She swears.

You wonder, briefly, what you’ve gotten yourself into.

[tropimora]

Never stop thinking about Jiho's gentle voice!!! Can't help but imagine him saying the dirtiest things... Just imagine his two slender fingers buried deep inside you, pumping either teasingly slow and gentle, or fast and hard targeted on the one spot that makes you see stars. He'd lean over you as you're whining and writhing, and speak so quietly and so gently to you. He'd degrade you but still use pet names such as princess or baby. And after care too! Imagine him saying "Thank you baby, you did so well for me." As he brushes the hair off of your sweaty face, rubs comforting circles over your lower stomach, leaves soft kisses on your face. Jiho's voice just does something to me. And I'm not even Jiho biased... 😓

oh i am not well this killed me OKAY SO I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAYYYY ABT THIS ONE like his voice is so 🙂‍↕️ and he's just so cute but he's def the type to if you piss him off he's gonna be rough

after hours of trying to get his attention you finally found yourself with his fingers were inside you...but he was moving them at an EXTREMELY slow pace, you were starting to get frustrated squirming all over the place and bucking your hips up to try and get any kind of friction. all of a sudden comes over you, you speak up and say "if you don't finger me faster i'll do it myself"

as soon as that phrase slips out of your mouth you knew you fucked up, because jiho slipped his fingers out of you and spoke up "look me in my eyes and say that again, slut" you whimper at his gentle voice your used to hear praising you degrade you instead.

jiho them slams his fingers back inside of you at an even faster pace, moans spilling out of your mouth as he says things like "oh my princess looks so pretty leaking on my fingers" "you little slut, always so needy that you couldn't even wait a bit?? your cunt just always wants to be filled doesn't it baby??" he can't lie the way your pussy is reacting to his praise is making him hard, and he only gets harder as he feels you clench on his fingers signaling you're about to cum, you feel like you're gonna do way more than cum with the way his fingers are assaulting your g-spot and sooner or later you end up...squirting, jiho is in complete shock but extremely turned on. he's never made you or any other girl squirt before he didn't even think it was real, he thought it was only in porno's

"you did so good pretty girl" he strokes your cheek and kisses your forehead, you hide your face in the crook of his neck, nothing more than embarrassed "what's wrong angel??" "that was embarrassing..." "___ look at how hard i am...you think i care?? that was the hottest thing ever, your so perfect...my perfect little angel girl"

and you guys spent the rest of the night tangled in each other's limbs reminiscing on memories and discussing how much you love each other

[hotchs-big-hands]

Oh my goodness you are too sweet I absolutely adore you THANK YOU.

I also saw this post and it made me think of Aaron because HE WOULD.

https://www.tumblr.com/kneelbeforezod/728262364136439808/edges-you-til-you-say-something-nice-about

Especially if he knew you struggled with body image issues. Just casually throughout the day he’d be reassuring you with tiny kisses against the side of your head or a hand on your hip. And praise. So much praise. Making sure you knew just how beautiful he thought you were!!

And those days he could tell words weren’t doing *quite enough* to prove it, he’d have you literally shaking, showing you just how much he loves you and your curves.

Just UGH.

-🥺

AWHHHH 🥺ANON I ADORE YOU TOO 💖💖💖💖💖 YOURE SO SWEET

I love that post SM!!! It screams Aaron as FUCK cuz he wants to make sure his sweet babe feels GOOD abt herself 🥺🥺🥺💖💖💖 he's always happy to tell you all the things he loves and adores abt your body; your yummy, soft neck for kissing and nuzzling into, your pretty breasts and stomach that makes his head feel fuzzy 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 your beautiful thighs and butt that he loves to grab and squeeze and hold onto... you're just so fucking gorgeous and he can't get enough of you 🥰🥰🥰

But when those days come where you've tried all you could to feel good about yourself but no matter what it just doesn't work, he'll change tactics. He is still s o loving and caring as he showers your body in kisses and words of affirmation, but when you're writhing beneath him desperate to cum he stops. Head swimming from the cut off orgasm you whine, moaning his name in question. And he hums, stroking your trembling thighs.

"Sweetheart... I'm not gonna let you cum because only good girls get to cum. And you're not being a good girl to yourself." He murmurs into your ear, nibbling the tip of it. Your eyes water and you begin to close your legs in hopes of rubbing them together to relieve the sensation. But he doesn't let you, pushing your legs apart again and lightly slapping your poor clit.

"No, naughty girl. You're going to take what I give you until you learn to be a good girl to yourself."

You find yourself eventually bound to the bed, legs spread with nowhere to move or help yourself and Aaron kneels in front of you, hands rubbing the tender flesh of your inner thighs. You whimper.

"P-please... please let me cum, sir!" You babble, only to earn a light slap on your thigh.

"No, not until you say nice things about yourself." Aaron retorts firmly, beginning to slide his fingers up and down your drenched slit. He slides two fingers inside you; his middle and ring finger, and begins to crook them up into your g-spot. You gasp out, squirming in the bindings around your wrists and ankles.

"S-sir- Aaron!" You squeak as he begins to finger fuck you hard, slick sounds echoing through the room. You're close again, only for him to rip his fingers away before you can cum. It makes you cry.

He smooths his hands down your plush stomach, squeezing and grabbing at the flesh.

"Come on, do it. Say something nice about yourself. About your body." He coos, slipping his fingers back down to your pussy to thrust them into you again. Your head feels sluggish, but you try, try so fucking hard to say something, anything.

"I-I'm I have nice thighs!" You blurt out, earning a hum of approval.

"Mhm, daddy loves these fucking thighs. Loves humping them, biting and kissing them, laying my head on them. You're doing so well for me."

You cry out when his fingers leave your pussy again, slapping your clit before plunging back in. He wanted more. Needed you to say more good things about yourself. It was going to be a long session for you....

[lightlycareless]

CHAPTER 34 HAS ME RUNNING IN CIRCLES CLAWING AT THE WALLS LOSING MY MIND,,, HELLO?? HELLO??? naoya just absolutely losing his mind writhing in emotional pain,, incredible stuff i agree w the staff. it is exactly like a car crash and i can not take my eyes away. hes so cringefail mariya. girlbossing standing in between the two of them... very strong of her. i talk a lot of shit abt naoya but i hate conflict and i'd probably start shaking and crying if i had to deal with him so mariya being able to just put herself right in the middle of all that and act totally normal about it is VERY impressive. props to y/n too for acting so normally too-- either that or naoyas just extremely oblivious to body language and emotional cues and doesn't notice them freaking the fuck out. 50/50

naoya detective arc,,,, it would be charming of him if he weren't so deranged. in fact its KINDA terrifying how incredibly focused and driven he was to figure everything out no matter how far back he had to trace it. like-- it'd be INSANELY hard to hide anything from him unless absolutely everyone involved in it was able to be IN on it and know how to keep up a lie to him. kinda fucked!

tho on the detective arc part-- it makes perfect sense for HIS deranged ass to immediately jump to the worst conclusion that y/n lied to him, despite the fact i imagine its still possible the package could've been stolen from inside the estate by one of the staff? as in, the worker got the wolf stamp, but it could've been jumbled up or stolen after entering the estate. not like he's thinking that far ahead tho,,,

FINALLY he sees her w naoaki and we get a whole-ass confrontation-- im going NUTS here this was SO intense. naoya's arc here plays on one of my FAVORITE villain tropes, the 'villain who genuinely doesn't realize he's done anything wrong'. those are always so good but rarely do we get the moments of said villain realizing how badly he's fucked up im SO excited for how this is going

the way naoya is genuinely sure he's not done anything wrong and doesn't realize how badly he's hurt her vs. naoaki thinking he's just pretending to be oblivious to get out of consequences- DELICIOUS STUFF. naoaki pulling the "because you *love* her?" in whats probably intended to be a mocking way and then realizing "oh shit. he does actually. oh this is a fucking mess isn't it" and feeling kind of guilty about it... is it weird i want them to make up at some point too in all of this? god knows naoya needs some fucking friends (besides ranta)

"Naoya doesn't... *can't* care for me... because he doesn't care for anyone but himself." Y/N WITH THE STEEL CHAIR,, FROM THE TOP ROPE,, might as well have just shot him. definitely did the equivalent of knocking him unconscious considering he apparently doesn't remember anything that happened afterwards. i like to imagine he just dropped unconscious right on the spot and they just left him there.

the dream sequence part KILLED me i genuinely believed up until maybe midway through this was real. ALSO HE CALLED HIM BROTHER,,, my onii-san joke rings true,, at the funniest possible fucking time,, wish he'd say it outside of a dream,, the y/n sneering at naoya and laughing at him was i think what gave it away-- i was willing to believe her and naoki went off to finally fuck after all that but sry y/n i do NOT believe you're willing to make fun of him that hard to his face yet. yet. i think you should though some time

but fr this WHOLEE dream sequence is soo important to his character its so good at illustrating the fear of failure and rejection and abandonment-- they're SO crippling for him to such a degree he ends up making it worse on himself and making this fucked up self-fulfilling cycle houghhh its so much,,

naoaki getting woken up in the middle of the night to naoya slamming into his room demanding to know where y/n is-- i NEED to know what he thought in that moment he mustve thought naoya's gone fucking insane esp when he just LEAVES right after without explaining anything

and then y/n probably thought she was gonna fucking die when he just showed up out of nowhere. actual jumpscare moment. also her being intrigued by just how disheveled and awful he looks? me too.

WHAT WAS HE GONNA TELL HER. IM WAILING AND CRYING DID HE EVEN HAVE ANYTHING HE WANTED TO SAY OR WAS HE JUST DESPERATELY TRYING TO GET HER TO STAY,, AUGH,, depending how loudly he collapsed to the floor and loud his crying was i wonder if y/n were able to hear him?? i think she should definitely see him crying at least once-- i wonder how she (or naoaki) would even handle him just breaking down into tears,,

ohmygod i wrote. a lot here. anyways. 20/10 chapter. im chewing on him. tysm for these incredible developments im foaming at the mouth to see whats next

Hello!!!!!

YEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSS JUST EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED HAHAHAHAH I THRIVE IN OTHER'S ANGUISH.... lol.

Ahem, anyways... 🤭 I'm glad you liked this chapter!!! This has to be up there, in my top 10 moments of the story (we still have others though... but yeah, still up there) and the one I was dying to write for the longest. I don't know if it was enough "punishment" for Naoya, but it's good to see him be reminded of his stupidity :)

His downfall is something that I think many were expecting tbh, or at least see him get kicked down a notch lol He was out there thinking himself to be the king of the hill for far too long, someone had to remind him he’s not that special 😂

I’m pretty sure the staff’s perception of Y/N changed drastically once again, into a more positive I mean. They’re out there admiring how she was able to do what many couldn’t and can’t help but wonder if she has the potential to ruin the Zen’in if she wanted to—of course, that stops when Naobito is added into the equation, but they still like to daydream about it haha.

Mariya is a character I would consider 100% fed up with Naoya’s (or just about anyone from the clan) shenanigans, so that makes it easier for her to stand up to him, although I’m sure she’s still intimidated by him. Thankfully her extensive knowledge of how everything works around the estate helps her out in these situations, it’s kind of like a… “gray area” for her to exploit—something she can use if she ever gets in trouble with Junko or Meiko for example, she can easily say “I was just doing what was requested of me” and they’d be like “unnnghhhh I guess!!”

Besides, she has job security in the sense that Meiko considers her to be the best worker there (after her, obviously lmao) so she wouldn’t dare lose the order Mariya provides; because she’ll whine and cry about it, enough for Naobito to intervene, making him wonder why she was fired, forcing Meiko to say “well, because Naoya–“ and yeah, I don’t think anyone to be in that situation hahaha so she’s safe.

I’d say Naoya is greatly oblivious to body language when it comes to… socializing? Cause he’s great when it comes to analyzing targets in a jujutsu environment, but even then, I think he’d still be somewhat bad compared to others 😂 he's the kind of person that believes brute force overrules everything else, so he shouldn't worry about those menial details. (Kind of like Endeavor from MHA? Like he's a great hero, but in the sense of crime fighting, he didn't really care about making a fan base or anything else really... OUTSIDE OF SHOTO OF COURSE)

And because Y/N has always been “coy” when he’s around, he doesn’t think much of it outside of being normal behavior from her, so yeah, he didn't get any sense of "something's going on" when she acted the way she did.

Naoya being derange isn’t a surprise to anyone at this point 😭 I’m telling you, he does things that under any normal context it would’ve been sweet, but since he’s… him, it’s not lmao. I can’t imagine how terrified Y/N was upon hearing he went all the way down to the post office just to find out what happened with his gift. He’s determined, that’s for sure, and it makes her wonder what other things he's done already—although at that moment, at the same time she was hoping she’d be able to escape this situation… well, alive, she was mostly worried that her letters might be uncovered too. Thankfully Naoya was focused on something else 💀

And yep, the way he jumped into conclusions was eerie, but I think it was because deep inside him, he knew that was what actually happened. He had enough of bad history with his wife to know that she, more likely than not, discarded his gifts. Did he ever wonder why? No. Would he dare to ask? I don’t think so. And even if he did, would he understand? I think he’d feel offended if anything, more so when Naoaki’s gestures had been happily received. Oof.

Maybe if he wasn’t so paranoid (or heart broken, let’s be real) he might’ve considered someone else from the staff, leading him into another wild goose chase; good, this is revenge for what he put Hinata through.

I’m glad you liked the confrontation!!! It was above everything, awkward, cause there’s no actual confrontation coming from Naoya if that makes sense? Like he’s not open to actual conversations, he just wants to know the why of certain things, and if it fits his ideals, good, if not, God help us.

I definitely believe Naoaki thinks Naoya is so… “isolated” from the real world that he might actually, genuinely not know what he’s doing—can’t blame him, he had Naobito and the rest of the family as guidance lol—but his inability to even consider other possibilities is what always frustrates him 😂 poor Naoaki, he can’t go on with his life without being constantly disappointed by his relatives. (Have Mai and Maki disappointed him too? I wonder...)

My favorite part, and I’ll never stop talking about it hahahah, was when he asked Naoya if he “loved” Y/N aughagaga DAMN the skepticism was there 100% for sureeeeeeeeee, he was hoping to hear his brother say something like “yeah, I do” so he could be like “bullshit!” and continue to take out his frustrations, but the way Naoya remained quiet, looking away almost as if embarrassed!!! Now that’s when he knew there were feelings for her—beneath the complicated layers that make him a monster, Naoya was still capable of harboring sentiments for someone else (Allegedly… all allegedly…) and Naoaki immediately felt bad for putting him on the spot like that. He still cares for his baby brother after all 😭😭😭

I certainly feel bad that their relationship turned into this—I can only wonder what occurred on the manga for Naoya to want them (more) dead lol. If he’s already unhinged at 19, imagine at 27 💀 Ah, but one can dream….

AHAHAHAH Him just spacing out immediately after Y/N said that is, ugh idk satisfying and sad at the same time—like sure I feel sorry that his wife was like “no, you don’t care” and I could’ve had her say something like “ewww” but Y/N isn’t that disrespectful; and come on what was Naoya expecting 😂?? For her to be like “omg I’m so sorry Naoya I should’ve known” please!!! She was appropriate enough to state the truth, that he doesn’t care for anyone but himself, he should’ve just taken it and left them (which he did: I imagine he remained quiet, spacing out as he stared at the two before turning around and disappearing into the hallways. Naoaki and Y/N look at each other, wondering what happened before wondering if he’s going to return. Naoaki tells her no, but that she should be careful nonetheless. Y/N goes with Mariya, tells her staff what went down and collectively decide to keep a low profile—Hitomi offers to keep a lookout on Naoya, only stopping when she overheard that he was in his room and has been for the past few hours. They go on with their day, or attempt to, and that’s when Mariya decides to let them know of her secret hideout)

To irritate Ren, I decided that the song that best fits this scene is this one. And just for a little, tiny part before the chorus and Mel B's part hahahahha. That's the only thing that actually applies to their whole dilemma at this point.

Now, the good part… The dream sequence was the one thing I’ve been wanting to show you for a while now hahah I just kept teasing you about it, and I’m glad it got the reaction it did hahahahhahahhhahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

I was 99.9999% sure that most of my readers would immediately catch on to the fact that this was a dream, since I’ve never portrayed Y/N to be that crazy, you know? Like her making fun of Naoya is off the table completely; sure, she’s made some jokes here and there, but they’re always lighthearted—or at least I think that’s the impression one gets when reading them—never off the rails as this dream sequence 💀 leave that to Naohiko lol.

Either way, I tried my best to cover the fact it was a dream, and if someone saw right through it, it still served to show just how messed up Naoya is on an emotional at this moment.

But yeah, this nightmare worked really well ‘cause there was that lingering question of whether Naoaki and Y/N were finally going to do something more… intimate. I feel that if I hadn’t worked their relationship up to that point it would’ve easily been like “nah, this is a dream goodbye” 😈 glad it worked in the end hahahah!!!

Now that it’s mentioned, the scene where Naoaki is disrupted by Naoya is ironically funny—it was so out of the blue first he was like “I sleep” and then Naoya comes into his room to ask the most random question before leaving.

Naoaki for sure thought he made it up—he was worried for Y/N and overworked by all his duties that he was like “Man, I’m even starting to dream about Naoya wtf??” his slumber overtook him almost immediately after; had he not been that exhausted you can be 100% certain he would’ve gone after Naoya.

And I agree—Y/N for sure thought she was going to die at that moment, although it was a fear that quieted down a bit for the sake of her staff’s wellbeing… yet, the thing that surprised her the most was to see Naoya so… disturbed—he’d seen him angry, arrogant, a complete monster… but she’d never seen him so defeated. So yeah, I think she believed she was going to die, but more in a sense of shock of not knowing what the hell was going on.

Now, for your last question… Naoya desperately wanted to keep her there above anything else, but his broken heart also wanted to tell her that he did care for her, at least to some extent, if not then why would he have married her? A mystery for sure. If I had to boil it down to a singular reason, it was him wanting to tell her how much he wants to be with her. Happily, be with her.

(No one heard Naoya cry, outside of Y/N retreating as quickly as possible, I envision him to be a silent crier in a way, not wanting anyone to hear him out of fear of being reprimanded more than shame—Naobito as a father must’ve been really, really tough. And if anyone did hear him, they would’ve never thought it was him to begin with.)

Thank you so much for tuning in for another chapter!! 🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️ I really greatly, enormously enjoy your asks, they give me so much insight about things that sometimes escape my mind!! Kgagagkak I don’t know how to describe it, but they motivate me allot 😭❤️

I can’t wait to show you the rest of the story…. Another…. Specific part I want you to read (well, more than one, but that one is another favorite of mine) hahahahahaaa

Once again, thank you so much for your support 🥺😭❤️ I shall strive to deliver the next chapters to the best of my ability!!!

Take care, and hope to see you soon 🥺❤️

[auspex]

Just saw the ask game hehe.

♠️Beck: Osiris, it goes without saying being a Lasombra comes with alot of power tripping, especially when growing up you never had any. The rush of undying, loyal blood he takes from those that adore him, respect him, or even despise him is none other (as someone could technically loyally hate you I'd like to think hehe).

🔥Alessi: Siren, as someone with an extremely traumatic past his mind was very scarred so alot of his coping comes from the power of having others desire him, BUT, only when its wanted of course. It also helps that he enjoys this behavior anyways, finding it so interesting how much kine are slaves to their lust (and even he himself at times). The lustful blood of gods sinners could almost make his heart start beating once more, almost.

🕊Angel: Pain Dealer (homebrew and still working on name as well as mechanics). I've made a homebrew pred type as there wasn't any that fit this idea I had for them! Basically its feeding with the intention of causing some sort of physical harm to the victim as Angel is of clan Hecata and has a painful kiss. To them, its a joyful experience to see the one they chose to feed on writhe in pain (this works consensually of course meaning Angel would also look for people that would be alright with feeling this pain, as long as thats involved somehow.)

Lastly, ☠Matteo: Graverobber, this one is also a bit self explanatory due to his clan also being Hecata. He is a rather anti social creature, only speaking when of need to, when spoken to, etc. Dealing with the feeding of those that could fight back, cause a scene, its a bit much for him. Those that have already passed into the beyond are similar prey, and are often brought right to him due to his occupation. Though there are times when this is unavailable, and in those moments well, he'll make do.

OMG KEV OC LORE? ? ? ?

OOO they all make sense and i like how integral / well matched they are to the characters <3 when i started out it was hard for me to make predator types work for my Vision but YOU GOT IT. Understood the assignment. etc etc. I wanna hear more abt this Lasombra...

[nerdsandbabyteeth]

There is nothing that can make me cry quite like an epilogue by Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third

[wysteria-clad]

Hi... Can u write something abt edging steven multiple of times + mommy kink plz?

yes ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

warnings: 18+ only, explicit sexual content, mommy kink.

minors dni

tags: @twwcs @fayes-fics @friendlyneighbourhood-parker @devilish-mirage @syrma-sensei

-------

"A-ah, please, please!" he lets out a whine in between breathing heavily, pleading you. It was pathetic and he is completely aware of it.

"You have to earn it, babyboy" with a sly smirk, you stroke his oversensitive tip with your thumb, making him let out a whimper.

"M-mommy, mommy, please!" he throws his head back, crying out. His voice is slightly rough from all the crying and begging.

You caught him touching himself and this was his punishment. You edged him three times with your mouth already, leaving him writhing with anticipation of desparate release.

You take your sweet time, slowly admiring his pretty cock. Tracing the curve, every vein, and tender spot on his cock.

"Mommy" he calls out once again, his accent is thick. Tears roll down from the corners of his eyes. A sharp gasp and another sob escapes his parted lips. His hips bucks upwards, rubbing against your hand.

You place your hand over his v-line, pushing him back. Your disapproving look makes him whimper more.

"Please, mommy. I-I'll be good, I'll be your good boy! ple-"

His words were cut off when you adjusted your position to sink your pussy into him.

A wave of relief rolls over his body. He was about to cum.

Oh, that's what he thinks.

You chuckle teasingly, stopping your calculated thrusts, right when you sense he was going to cum.

He groans. His hands reach out to grab your waist. His is hard and breathing heavily, beats of sweat clings to his curls, his body slick with sweat.

You pause, giving him few minutes to calm down before starting again. You move your hip, thrusting with calculated precision and ceasing your thrusts the exact moment he was going to come.

He whimpers, his voice slightly high, "M-mommy," a sob rips from his throat, "please let me cum"

He is desperate, but still obedient for you. Your good boy.

"Already?" you stroke his thigh. "Just one more, okay? I'll let you cum, yeah?" you reach your hand out to wipe the tears off his cheek.

"Yes, yes, mommy. I'll be good for you" he nods, swallowing and obeying you, ever your good boy.

You thrust into him in painfully slower pace, pulling out a string of whiny moans from his lips and gradually increasing your thrusts.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, he watches your breasts bounce up and down with each thrusts through half lidded eyes.

"I'm so close. A-h," he cries out, "mommy"

And you let him. "Go ahead, baby, you earned it, you can cum now" you encourage him.

He cries out in pleasure, coming into you. His whole body shudders, exploding into best orgasm he ever had yet. His eyes blurs with tears of ecstasy.

"That's it, good boy. There you go" you place a hand over his chest, watching his breath become more steady and calm down slowly.

He looks at you and mumbles a 'thanks, mommy'.

After both of you were nice and clean, he pulls you closer. "Was that good? Am I your good boy?"

"You did so good, honey. You are my good boy" you press a kiss to his forehead. "You know I love you, right?"

He nods, caressing your cheek with this thumb, with a smile on his face. With a happy sigh, he leans and kisses your lips softly.

[rexxdjarin]

Thinks very hard abt dom Cody edging me cause I’m bad at doing it myself and will forget halfway through and just make myself cum 😮‍💨

hejxid anytime you guys ask me for dom!Cody you know my sub ass is gonna DELIVER. this man is a submissive/brat tamer extraordinaire. something about the Marshall Commander really just screams I’m in control and I’m like 🥹 ok sir

“Now, brat, when I called you yesterday…I never gave you permission to cum...did I?”

Tonight, and most nights, he wasn’t just Cody. He was Marshall Commander Cody. And he was in charge. The Boss. And you obey. You must always obey.

He has you tied to a chair, hands bound behind your back and around the backrest. You’re stark naked, save for a pair of pretty yellow lace panties he’d specifically asked you to wear tonight. He’s standing behind you, softly running his bare, calloused palms along your neck and shoulders. He gently pushed your hair to the side and lowered his head to whisper in your ear.

“Little bird…I asked you a question…don’t make this harder than it needs to be or I’ll make sure this lasts hours, darling.” He growled softly, the scolding only making the wet spot in your panties grow. His voice was rough, domineering, and unyielding. Almost scary if you weren’t used to him like this. But you were.

You had a certain, let’s say penchant, for being a stubborn little rule breaker and as much as Cody loved your obedience and commitment to him, he loved your rebelliousness and bratty side too. Because every night he spent with you allowed him to gain back some of the control he never had in his own life. He was addicted to his possession and custody over you just as you were addicted to giving him the love and care he was never afforded.

“No, sir. You didn’t. But you know I’m bad at denying myself what I want, Commander.” You flirted, desperately wishing you could be free from your restraints to run your hands down his lower torso toward what you really had wanted yesterday. Holocalls are always a tease which is tremendously hard when you want nothing more than his hands around your neck and his cock gut deep in your insides.

He laughed darkly, leaning forward to trace his tongue along the shell of your ear. “You are. Which is why I’ll just have to edge you, so you know how satisfying denying yourself can be.” His hands slid down the front of your bare chest, softly caressing the swell of each breast. Goosebumps rippled across your skin everywhere he touched. The heat in your core flickered as he wrapped his hands around each and kneaded them roughly.

All you wanted was to feel his lips around each nipple, but you knew better than to whine and ask for that. He’d never give you anything if you begged before he told you to. Instead, you sighed and tipped your head back into his still armored chest. He hissed softly, kissing slow, tensioned circles down your neck with his tongue. “Oh- okay, Commander. Whatever you…” you yelped as he twisted your nipple between two fingers, hard. “Whatever you say. I trust you.” You gave in, the urge to resist fading the more he silently teased.

“There’s my good girl.” He kissed the hollow between your neck and collar bone, his right hand now ghosting down the outline of your waist. He exhaled sharply, needing to calm down his own excitement, as his mind moved toward where you both wanted him before his hands did. “Can you handle a little more?”

You nodded eagerly, desperately wanting to buck your hips forward and writhe against the chair for any sort of contact. Yet if you did that, he’d back away and start this all over again. So you let out a pitiful whimper and turned your gaze up to the man who was running the show. His dark brown eyes were muddied with perverse desire and his lips were drawn into a cocky smirk that made your center tingle with even more need.

He looked down at you, brushing noses and resting his cheek against yours as his hand reached down to cup your heat over your yellow panties. The contact made you gasp and the most delightful lilted moan left you. Your own eyes must’ve looked desperate and eager because it only made him touch you slower and with more pressure.

His middle finger brushed up the length of your slit over your panties and he tutted softly. “You’ve already soaked through them, you filthy girl. You love being punished like this don’t you, mesh’la?” He didn’t wait for your response. His hand brushed past the hem, running two of his fingers through your heat slowly. Pleasure pulsed through your veins with every pump of your racing heart. “Wettest you’ve been in weeks I bet. You can’t get this worked up without my hands touching you. Without my control.”

“It’s…not the same…without you, Sir. Your touch is better than mine. You make me…wait.” You moan desperately as his index finger traces dizzying patterns across your sensitive clit. “Cody- yes, right there.” You slowly roll your hips into him, his eyes twinkling with just the smallest hint of fondness as you showed him just how much you truly missed him.

“I know, little brat. And it’s well worth the wait to hear you calling my name like that. I’ll permit it, just this time. Because you’ve been such a good girl. But now…” His two fingers slid into your entrance, flexing obscenely as he spread your aching walls apart around them. He rested his cheek on yours, growling through gritted teeth, “I want to feel you cum on my fingers. Want you to cum so hard you soak this chair. Then I’ll untie you, lay you down and watch every pretty face you make as you take my fucking cock. Because I get to be impatient when I need you.”

You nearly came at just those words, but your resolve was strong. Now that you knew you could handle a little edging, you could remind him that two could play that game. And that you never mind how well he punishes you for testing his patience.

[cest-la-vieve]

A Court of Pain and Pleasure (Ch. 7)

Summary: We finally get to hear about the King of Hybern. Tons of fun ensues! Literally just a big ol’ party!

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Chronic disability/pain, cussing, mentions of drowning, angst, angst, and MORE angst, self-sacrificing tendencies

Notes: hello all!! this is quite literally THE chapter. this was the idea i had in my head when i decided to start writing this fic. i couldn’t get this scene out of my head for days so if anybody wants to chat abt it with me i am extremely passionate about azzy and eve’s connection in this one

Next Chapter: Chapter Eight

ACOPAP Masterlist

---

I fought. 

I fought with every ounce of my being. 

I kicked and screamed and begged and bit. Whatever was happening, I refused to make it easy for them. I refused to be taken without pouring every last drop of physical strength and energy I had to either get me or my sisters out of this.

The High Fae barely flinched and dragged my writhing body down the stairs to where my sisters were also being detained. Nesta, much like me, was not being quiet nor standing still. Elain, however, simply wept as two more Fae males held her tight against them. Had I been able to reflect on it, I would have laughed at them - thinking they needed two High Fae against three human women. I might have even felt flattered.

I was expecting them to drag us outside to some carriage or who knows what else. But instead, in the blink of an eye, we were no longer in our house. Instead, we stood inside a large hall. It was ornate and intricate and every piece of furniture in it looked ten times more expensive than our manor alone. Nesta continued fidgeting, kicking her feet out at the assailants who currently held her. Elain still remained quiet, even opening her mouth as the Faes shoved a gag in. I fought hard, snapping my teeth at whatever hands dared to get close enough, but eventually, their enhanced strength won and they shoved a disgusting rag in my mouth before roughly tying it behind my head.

Once they had finished, I dropped. The guards had to catch me and hold me up on my feet as my adrenaline crashed and my hips decided they were done working. Nesta, though, strong beautiful Nesta, continued. Even after they gagged her. Even after she saw the sorry state of Elain and me. She kicked and thrashed and growled. Her hair was a mess and her eyes contained something absolutely primal - feral. 

Since I didn’t have the physical strength or endurance Nesta had, I decided I could be useful to us in other ways. I scanned the room. There were… no doors. Not a single way out. So what were they planning on doing with us? Had they taken us to Prythian?

I looked around again, wondering if I had somehow missed something. I saw no exits, not even anything vaguely resembling a doorway or passage.

Okay, so if there wasn’t a way out, they were clearly taking us to a different room or… stranding us here. There were 7 High Fae males in total: 2 holding each of us, which I finally realized was ridiculous given the discrepancies in human and Fae strength, and one standing near the wall. We were fucked. Complete and utterly fucked.

Almost as if Nesta sensed my conclusion, or if she had seen me weighing all the options, she slumped a bit in the hold of the Fae behind her. We waited. And waited. Until the guards began to shuffle us towards a door that appeared and shoved us forward through it.

The three of us glanced around the room and the sight that greeted us would have made me vomit had it not been for the gag in my mouth. An average-looking man with long dark hair sat on a throne made of… human bones. Near him, a large cauldron the size of a bathtub sat. It would have been quite normal if not for the feeling of dread that crossed my body upon observing it. I could feel it in my bones, the power that drifted from it. Despite the warmth of the room, I shivered. There were two High Fae on one side of the room - one with long blonde hair and the other with fire red. They just stared at my sisters and me.

I met Feyre’s eyes as she was held in Rhys’ arms. She looked broken as she took in Nesta, Elain, and me. I almost laughed when I imagined the state we were all in. I was literally hanging between two guards, holding none of my own weight. I’m sure my hair was just as disheveled as Nesta’s but I would never match the wild look her in eyes and the rate with which her chest heaved. Elain, sweet innocent Elain, was still just crying and her face and gag were soaked with tears.

Then my eyes flickered next to where Rhys and Feyre stood. I would never be able to explain the rush of feeling as I saw where Mor and Cassian stood, holding a broken and bloodied Azriel between them. I vaguely heard a conversation happening in the room as my heart dropped into my stomach.

A new rush of adrenaline surged through me as I forced my legs to lock and hold me up and I once again fought against the guard’s restraint. I tried to scream his name and even though it was muffled through the gag, I saw his eyes flicker up and he tried to lift his head. Recognition flashed through his tired, broken hazel eyes and I could see him trying to get the strength to stand and fight again.

At least he was alive, was all I could think. Feyre was alive and safe in Rhysand’s arms. Mor and Cassian looked relatively unharmed. We will be okay.

I knew as I listened to the man on the throne’s words, however, that I was only telling myself lies. Some of his words meant nothing to me - High Priestess, Ianthe - but what did register was the blonde-haired Fae saying, “She sold out- she sold out Feyre’s family. To you.”

At this, I looked to Feyre. She looked like she was going to be sick. I heard the man - the King, I gathered - say something about our wills and proving something. Feyre tried to step forward, to defend us, but the King’s warning echoed in my head as the brightest flash of light and power I had ever experienced filled the hall. My guards held firm as all I could do was watch.

Feyre and Rhysand seemed relatively unscathed, but Cassian… He had tried to spread his wings to protect Azriel and they were instantly shredded by the power emanating from the King. 

I shrieked through my gag, sobbing as his screams would forever be embedded in my memory. It wasn’t like the sound of the animals Feyre would kill in that cabin all those years ago. It wasn’t the scream I had heard echo through the town when a woman had gone into labor. It was a scream of pure agony and suffering. A scream of pain and loss and devastation.

Rhys had tried to go for the King but wave after wave of power kept him from getting anywhere near. I could hear Nesta and Elain screaming beside me. But Elain’s was different and I realized she was trying to tell Feyre something. I saw Tamlin at the same time Feyre did. With impossible speed, she hurled a knife at him, then grabbed another.

It was a moment of beauty in this scene of pain. I was in awe watching the way Feyre now moved, the epitome of swiftness and grace. Her face was set in determination and she surveyed the room as soldiers poured in. She moved towards Cassian, but I couldn’t begin to guess why.

The movement of Mor lunging across the room stole my attention away from my sister as she screamed. Another sound that would haunt me. She was anger incarnate until the King hit her with a blast of power. She seemed ready to try again, but stopped once Azriel cried out in pain.

As much as I could hear Cassian’s scream and Mor’s roar echoing in my head, Azriel’s cry broke something within me. It rushed over me from my head to my toes. Mor had begun to back up as the King stood and looked ready to stalk towards her. I could tell she was trying to get back to Azriel. Azriel. Broken, bloody, hurt Azriel. I had to do something.

The guards must have been distracted by everything that was happening because with a swift stomp on one’s foot and I was free. It was just a moment but I tried to fling myself to Azriel or to Cassian or Feyre, but was promptly pulled back by my hair. My scream was the one to echo in the room this time. 

“Don’t you touch her,” I heard his voice growl.

I figured he was talking to the King, trying to help Mor, and he still might have been, but when I looked up, those hazel eyes were looking at me. I gasped. Mor knelt beside him and tried to help with his wound.

Feyre was in a similar position next to Cassian, looking unsure how to even begin helping him. Rhys stood in front of them, determination and devastation mixing on his gorgeous face.

“Put the prettier one in first,” the King said. My eyebrows furrowed and I realized I should have been paying more attention to what was being said. What did he mean by “put her in”?

I saw Feyre try to jump up, but she was stopped by the guards. Rhys went to get them off of her, but again Azriel cried out. “If any of you interfere, the shadowsinger dies,” the King warned.

They had done something to him, something beyond just stabbing him in his chest. That’s why nobody could help.

To my right, Elain was yanked forward. Nesta immediately began screaming and fighting again. I would have, too, but my body had given out on me. I could feel the pain ripping through my hips, back, and legs. It was unlike any pain I had felt before. I had lived with varying degrees of pain every day of my life. This was an all-encompassing pain, beyond the physical. My soul ached, my heart was crushed in my chest, and my brain was screaming at me to still try to find a way out of this.

The Fae I hadn’t met before, the blonde and the fire-haired, both ordered the King to stop, but Elain continued being dragged towards the Cauldron. I tried to will her to fight, to use whatever physical strength she might possess, but she just continued to cry and shake and passively move as the guards pushed her forward.

I whimpered her name, the best I could do with my throat dry from screaming and my strength dwindling.

The blonde Fae tried to help but was instantly shackled by the King’s power. The red-head tried as well but met the same fate. Feyre begged and Nesta continued to scream beside me. Elain was being lifted into the Cauldron, finally screaming as her feet first touched the water. And then she was under.

My breath caught in my throat as I waited… second after second… for her to come out. I could no longer hear Nesta’s screaming as all my senses faded, I knew she still was and I saw Cassian, covered in his and Azriel’s blood, try to move toward her but I couldn’t feel or hear anything.

Then the cauldron tipped over and poured Elain unceremoniously onto the floor. She sucked in a breath and as she did I let mine go. She was alive. She was wet and limp as she lay on the ground. I saw her lift her head and my tears and screams started anew. She was Fae. That’s what this King was doing to us. Poor Elain was engaged to a family who hated Fae more than they loved anything and now she was here in front of us with pointy ears and High Fae features. 

Feyre fell to her knees and sobbed. Nesta’s screams had stopped. I just stood. There was nothing I could do.

“The hellcat now, if you’ll be so kind,” the King gestured towards Nesta.

I panicked. I couldn’t watch that again. I couldn’t wait those moments in between my sister being dumped out and finally taking a breath. And I couldn’t see Nesta become the thing she hated so much. It would kill me. So I shook my head and with a muffled shout, I stepped forward. I kept my chin raised and tried not to shake from my sheer terror, guilt, and anger.

The King turned to me and smiled, a wicked, evil smile. “Or it seems we have a volunteer. Very well,” and he gestured to my guards.

I heaved a sigh of relief and looked over my shoulder at Nesta. She wasn’t screaming but I could see her entire body shaking. I tried to convey with my eyes, Find a way out, get Elain to safety, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was staring at Elain’s helpless form. 

I struggled to use my legs as the guards brought me forwards. They felt like molten lava but I kept my head held high. I had no fight left in me, but I had the determination to buy my sisters some time, to give someone the chance to think of something. I saw the red-headed High Fae move to cover Elain and mentally thanked him. I looked to Rhys and Feyre as I was half-dragged towards the Cauldron. I saw the fear and rage and guilt that was on their faces while looking at me and I tried to give them a small smile. I would be okay and this would give them time to come up with a plan... Or I wouldn’t be okay. I had no idea how the magic of this cauldron worked. Could it change multiple people into Fae?

As I neared the Cauldron, Nesta’s screams began anew. This time they weren’t desperate, they were angry and pointed directly at the King on his throne.

I saw Cassian flinch again, his fingers trying to pull himself towards her, or me, or to help in some way but he couldn’t. My gaze settled on Azriel. I hadn’t known the Shadowsinger long but somehow he had stolen my heart. In those brief moments, I had seen his kindness, saw the pain underneath his hard exterior, and found myself intrigued with getting to know him and his story. It was little more than a budding crush, the hope to spend more time with him and get to know him. At least, that’s what I told myself. Seeing his nearly lifeless body next to Cassian’s, the two strongest warriors and people I had ever met, was too much.

I knew then that if I died in that cauldron - it would be worth it for my sisters. It was worth it for all of them. For what was I? Other than a broken and weak human. This is something I could do for them. I could sacrifice myself so that Nesta never became Fae and the rest of them could fight their way out of here.

So I didn’t struggle as the guards began dipping me in the water. I just looked at Azriel, knowing that looking at Feyre, Nesta, or Elain would only make this worse. To see the pain on their faces. So I stared at the Illyrian Shadowsinger, his beautiful webbed wings limp as blood continued pouring from his chest. The red gems that littered his armor were dull and faded. I looked at his face and almost as if he could feel it, his eyes struggled to open. The second they did, he met my gaze. I could see them widen in panic, but I just shook my head slightly, letting him know I was willing to do this for him. I wanted to echo the promise in his eyes those weeks ago as Cassian swore allegiance to my sister. It was my honor to do this for him.

His golden-brown hazel eyes held everything in them. All the romance novels I had read, all the thoughts I had of flying with him over Prythian - over that city we had seen in the smoke, all the dreams I had of his hands holding me as he carried me up those stairs, all the hopes that I would get to feel his shadows weave through my fingers again, and all the faith that he would survive this. They all would. They had to.

My head was finally submerged in the water. For a moment, there was nothing. I began to wonder if Elain had somehow drained the power when she had gone under. But then, I felt it. I felt like I was drowning but I couldn’t move to save myself. I felt the Cauldron writhing and dancing around me. I struggled, both mentally and physically, to reach out and grab something to anchor myself. I could tell the Cauldron was playing with me and teasing me. It knew my delicate human body was nothing compared to whatever dark and ancient magic it possessed. I almost gave myself over to it and let it sweep me away.

Then I remembered those sounds. 

I heard Nesta’s screams, Cassian’s wail, Mor’s yell, and Azriel’s pained moans. They wrapped around me as I tried to calm them all, shower them with the love I felt, and comfort them the best I could. The Cauldron almost seemed surprised, as if it had been trying to drown me with the sorrows of my friends but I was trying to help them instead.

As soon as I felt that brief moment of pause, I lashed out. I grabbed blindly, but this time I found something. I tugged and tugged and held on, even as I felt the world move around me. I just held firm. I couldn’t tell if this magic… being?... was pleasantly surprised, impressed, or angry. 

The murky water-filled that filled my lungs began to burn. I needed air. I started to get light-headed and struggled to hang on to whatever semblance of life I could. As I felt myself being washed away, I held strong to pictures in my mind of a starlit city, intricate wings, and my sisters laughing around me at the dinner table.

Then the world went blank.

–

I would later hear that as I was poured out of the cauldron, the room went silent. Everyone had held their breaths until they realized I wasn’t breathing. The King had simply laughed and motioned to his guards to move me away, but Rhys had moved to my side before they could grab me. Apparently, the King had allowed it, not really caring since the process had already failed. Rhys then carried me back to where Feyre and the others were still on the ground.

I learned that they had poisoned Az with whatever was on that spear. The King (of Hybern, I was taught) had been able to manipulate the poison to move closer to Az’s heart if anyone disappeared. I didn’t blame them, how could I when I would have done the same?

The others had had their magic blocked, so even if they had wanted to break us out, they were unable to. That’s why no one used magic to heal Az or Cass. So when my lifeless body was moved in front of them, Mor and Rhys were only able to look at each other.

Thankfully, Feyre had once been human. She knew what drowning looked like from watching the kids in the pond when she was teaching herself to swim - and she knew how to fix it.

She had pumped my chest, blew air into my lungs, and waited until I coughed. No water had come from my lips, but instead thick black smoke did. I was still unconscious - but I was alive. 

According to what I was told, everyone breathed a sigh of relief, even Azriel in his half-conscious state.

Nesta had been completely still until I coughed. Then she began fighting again. She was forcefully dragged to the Cauldron. She screamed and raged, Cassian still fighting to get himself to her. 

Nesta had pointed at the King of Hybern as she went under, which didn’t surprise me at all. I also knew her well enough to know that she fully intended to fulfill that fatal promise - and I had no doubt she would.

Once she was fully submerged in the Cauldron, everyone was released from the spell. Then she tumbled out, gathered herself, and rushed to Elain before dragging her to my side where I laid unconscious next to a similarly unconscious Cassian. She placed herself in front of Elain and kept one hand on my unmoving one. I’m surprised she didn’t kill anyone if I’m being honest. Apparently, she was more concerned with getting Elain out of there (according to her, when I made that comment upon hearing what happened).

In the process of getting Elain, Nesta pushed the red-haired Faerie - who I later learned is named Lucien - out of the way. It was only then that he made his declaration of being Elain’s mate. Nesta had scoffed and denied it, just sitting with Elain beside my unmoving body. 

Feyre would go on to demand the bond between her and Rhys be broken and left to the Spring Court with the blonde High Lord, Tamlin. Mor winnowed - another word I learned - Nesta, Elain, and I out while Rhys saved his two brothers.

I had been right that we would all survive this, but I could never have predicted the cost.

---

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