#Cw claustrophobia

[kabr0ztrousers]

a fem!reader getting captured in a cave by a well endowed male lamia (with two cocks of course), using his immense strength to keep her bound up while he uses her like a fleshlight for who knows how long (it’s real dark in the cave so when she’s drifting in and out of consciousness due to exhaustion, she has no way of knowing how much time has passed)

Kabr0z Writes Episode 75: Snakes in a Cave

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: Noncon; breeding; kidnap; imprisonment; bondage; intox; envenomation; impregnation

A/N: You mightn't have thought this was going to be yesterday's bonus, but has been giving me such difficulty!

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You'd never been caving before. You much preferred the open sky above you, but your friends had managed to cajole you into following them to their subterranean hobby. Of course, when your body includes seven feet of undulating tail dragging behind you, getting gear that fits is a bit of a pain. Nevertheless, they managed and so you descended with them. Headlamp and helmet strapped tightly under your chin, you negotiated your long, sinusoidal body down the narrow cave. It felt a shame to hide your emerald scales from the sunlight, but your body was well adapted for the dark tunnels under the earth.

You remembered stories your grandmother told you as a girl, how hundreds of years ago Nagas ruled the caves beneath mankind, first emerging some decades after magic started returning to the surface, joining the minotaurs, the catmen, and the werewolves. It fed into the stories everyone learns at school; one part myth, one part history, detailing the first appearances of what modern society would refer to as "variants" - though the term encompasses everyone with human intellect but not-entirely-human physiology, an umbrella so large as to be functionally useless.

You were last into the cave, your tail made it almost impractical for anyone to follow you. Thankfully, you're a strong climber as it turns out. Your body moved so easily through the caves it was hard not to believe this is what you were built for. You slid this way and that, following the man in front of you.

You yelped. A spider the size of your open hand had shot between you and your friend. It only took a moment to carry on its way, but it was long enough that you lost sight of the boots in front of you as they disappeared into the gloom. You listened out, able to hear the scrambling men in front of you. Following on was simple enough, right? You sure hoped so as you slithered on, flat chest held against the rockface as you slid through gaps just wide enough to fit through, the cold rock pressing in to you on both sides.

It never occurred to you that the men you were supposedly following were both quite substantially broader than you, nor how they said they were following an introductory route, with no tight squeezes. This became all too clear when the tunnel spat you out into a wider opening, tumbling down to the bottom of a cavern. You landed on your back, tail lay out, staring at the hole in the ceiling that dropped you here.

You looked around, the cave walls were bare. The only light was coming from your headlamp, anemic and yellow-tinged. You got up, slowly moving around the perimeter of the room. There were a couple of ways onwards from here, but you felt it's a better idea to stay put. The thought of being lost down here chilled you, even more than the cool stone under you. Hopefully staying put and not getting more lost would help.

You gave up staring down the crevice, turning back to the centre of the room.

You screamed.

A naga stood at the other end of the room. Tall and pale, his wide eyes milky white, forked tongue tasting the air. He could sense you, even without sight, sliding towards you, in no hurry to close the gap. You tried to squeeze into then gap, making a little progress before he grabbed your tail, yanking you backwards as your nails scraped the sides. Inch by inch you slid back into the cavern. The pale serpent gripped you tight, claws digging in to you. He drew you into his grasp, wrapping you in his tail as you struggled in vain against the muscular body intertwining yours. He bit your shoulder, cold numbness radiating from the site as his paralytic venom took hold. Your arm went to sleep, then your neck started to ache, followed by the other arm, then your tail began to shut down, losing control over its movements as the toxin shut down your motor neurons. You felt the naga holding you, almost gently as he wrapped himself tighter around your body.

He was stripping off your clothes, little by little, starting by revealing your body, then the form-fitting skirt around your hips, revealing your genital slit as the twin shafts of his cock stood to meet it.

His hand strayed to your slit, gently parting the lips, testing the supple flesh within. Was it the venom making you wet? You hoped so. Either way, you could feel him pressing two fingers into you with ease, rubbing your moisture around your opening, readying you for him. His body moved around yours, pressing the double-shafted cock against you.

The shafts slid into your welcoming body, fitting like a jigsaw piece. You gasped a little as it filled you, better than your baseliner boyfriend ever could, the twin shafts finding their marks inside you. Just because your body wasn't listening to you, didn't mean it wasn't sending sensation back. You felt every inch of the ribbed, tapering hemipene as he gyrated next to you, sliding it in and out, unhurried in all things. You aren't going anywhere, after all.

His cocks felt amazing, pressing and probing in ways you'd never felt before. It was like you were made for him. Your eyes rolled in your head, your tail twitching as you approached your peak, cunt squeezing against him as you came around him. You felt his cocks spasm inside, starting to fill you with his seed. He bit you again, more venom flowing into your body, knocking you out.

You woke up, he was still around you, soft cocks still inside you. You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but only succeeded in waking the sleeping snake. He dosed you again with his fangs, needling into the meat of your shoulder again as the familiar numbness took you again. Again, he started slowly thrusting in and out, picking up speed at the grunts and moans that escaped you as your breath caught and your body responded to his. Again, you spasmed and shook as orgasm took you over, milking him into you as he gave you more of his venom, putting you out for another spell.

Again and again the cycle repeated, each time you woke he'd stir again, or already be midway through having his way with you. The light on your helmet long since went out.

Every so often he wouldn't be there when you woke, only to return some hours later with some variety of rat or other cave-dwelling rodent he'd swallow down, before tossing the other paralysed creature to you. Eventually he stopped biting you before having his way. Eventually you started to let him.

And so time went on, fucktoy for a blind, almost feral naga. You could feel the eggs moving inside you, fertile with your brood.

This is your life now

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Yeah, yeah, this should've gone up like 7 hours ago, but I literally fell asleep after finishing it

Expect tonight's episode tonight, I guess?

[conspicuous-clown-car]

pushing boundaries

[thegirlwholikesart]

the fears of tma, but as art

the buried

[ladybyakuya]

| BLIND + IZUMO HARUICHI.

+cw. — izumo haruichi x f!reader, coworker to lovers, oblivious pinning, flirting, confession, description of panic attack, claustrophobia & coping mechanisms, forced proximity, fluff, angst, character study, smut ( kissing ).

+wc. —3.1k ( shocker )

+syn.— last summer Izumo Haruichi came under your radar but this summer he has managed to get under your skin.

+notes. — part of ‘HELP WANTED’ mini server collab hosted by @interstellar-inn | redirect to blog navigation.

+tags. — @dear-koi @qichun @violet-turning-violet

The refectory of the office is oozing with ruckus this afternoon. It is not unusual but today it is just unbearable. The compartment plate in front of you is still filled with rice, curry, and salad as when you started eating your lunch. The line for the food is still alive; people are gossiping, taking food onto their plates, gossiping, taking spoons and forks, chopsticks— the sound of utensils clanking against each other one after another or sometimes all at once in sync is bugging you today. Your ears should be used to it by now after working for two years straight but it seems like a bother today. It is awfully loud in here. Everything is, even the heat.

Among this hustle and bustle, the only sound that bothers you the most is someone’s voice. It is faint to catch on from where you are sitting but the voice keeps coming to you in bits and pieces, like ebb and flow. Sometimes it is there and sometimes it is not. Sometimes your ears pick up on it but sometimes not and when it does not, your heart waits for it, even searches for the sound to reappear. And the heat is just making it worse. You can practically feel the beads of perspiration cascading through your cleavage as you search, waiting for the voice to turn up again. The air conditioner is on though, and the fans are working perfectly fine but with this kind of crowd, and heat in the dining place is at par with some blast furnaces.

“Well, I can take you there sometimes if you want,” Izumo states as one of the new interns, sitting diagonally to him, places a dumpling from her plate to his. Aoi Kaguragi, Izumo Haruichi, Reno Ichikawa, and Iharu Furuhasi are sitting at one table but Izumo is the most disconnected from them. 

“No. No. Haruichi-san, it’s fine. I can manage.” The girl sitting beside him pleads. A group of four girls who joined as new interns have occupied the table beside them. There is just a slit of partition between the two tables. Most tables are for a group of four people, but cubicle tables are cluttered together to make the team bigger, and better to establish a good workplace culture to some extent. 

Izumo expresses his thanks with a sun-kissed smile to the girl who just gave a dumpling to him, without asking. You make eye contact with him for a second but it's awkward. Aoi's nose shrinks. It acts as a distraction from Izumo’s azure gaze. Aoi stuffs his mouth with the dumpling Izumo just received out of disgust earning an alarming glare from Reno. Izumo does not even bat an eye to it. But the girl protests, “Hey. . .” Aoi glups it before saying, “he hates dumplings.” Iharu is busy eating his lunch. This guy . . . he woke up early, made breakfast for himself, got so busy and immersed with cooking that he forgot to eat. So, he is eating quietly. Reno keeps telling him to slow down but who is he? His dad?

“Well, wouldn't it be easier if you could get some directions and details?” The girl looks confused so Izumo divulges. “I live around there. So, yeah I could get you in touch with some agents if you want,” The girl looks at him with so much hope as if she has a chance to ask for the moon. 

“Oh my God. Really? Thank you so much Haruichi-san,” she chimes

Oh Fuck! Here it comes. Aoi, Reno, and Iharu share a look as you get up. The clank of your spoon was a little too loud to be ignored. Okonogi asks, “You didn’t even eat today too. Are you okay? Do you wanna leave soon today? I can finish your work if you want . . . ” 

“No. Kono-chan. It’s alright. I don’t feel hungry. I will eat when I feel hungry,”

“Yeah, gallons of coffee and tons of cakes,” Kikoru prompts without missing a beat. Your shoulders sink at her statement. She is not lying but gallons? Tons? That’s surely an exaggeration. You take your plate and as you walk past his table he gets up. Please let him not run into you. . . please god, please.

“Going to share the rest with your boyfriend?” He grabs a bottle from its designated section. You watch him walk, pick a bottle, and then come back but he halts in front of you blocking your way. Of course. Why didn’t you expect that? You should have taken a different route. 

“So what if I’m?” you squint your eyes at him since his Adam’s apple shift. Now, that’s different, unlike other days. Your eyebrows jump. Teasing each other is as easy as breathing for you and him. So, you just give in to this golden opportunity. “Your flirt game is so bad, no wonder you’re still single, Haruichi-san,” you snicker emphasizing ‘Haruichi-san’ since you have already been granted the authority to call him by his name but sometimes it is just amusing how he hates it when you do not use it; even if he specifically said that you can call him Izu-kun or simply Izumo. He just wanted to get included in your league of people; the people who you have given a nickname. It's almost like adopting a puppy.

Izumo rolls his tongue inside, along his bottom lip too quickly to pinpoint his frustration. He is pouting now. His hand proceeds to his nape scraping his hair for a moment in the hope of seeking some respite from this heat. Why does he even keep his hair long? Why not just cut it? Or put it in a bun. Your eyes go to the bunch of interns who are eagerly watching you two as if you are big stage actors. “My flirt game isn’t bad, . . . he trails off and then sighs. His hand swings back in his pocket as clarifies, “It’s just that . . . the person I like is a fucking idiot. That’s why I’m still single.”

You scan the group of interns at his valor display of vulgarity. Girls must find it hot, don’t they? That’s why he does it, isn't it? Good for him! He has an audience now. You bet they are practically swooning. Aoi’s face is a sight to behold. Iharu has given up. Even Reno has his head tipped down while holding the bridge of his nose. He is not someone who loses patience easily except Kafka Hibino, his mentor and co-worker.

“What a loverboy.” You opined to him before your gaze switched back to the girl who was trying all the ways to get his number. Yeah, it was very obvious especially since she was practically rubbing herself on him since the day she joined. How do people do that? Get hooked onto someone like the twinkle of a star. That too in this heat. It is hard enough to keep coherent behavior, thoughts, and habits intact but now you have another problem, Izumo Haruichi. He is being spectacularly annoying today. 

You look at the girl before saying anything. You will probably be doing her a favor. 

“don’t waste your time on him, he is going to break your heart, girl.” 

The spoon from her hands falls on the dish splashing a little bit of soup on her dress. People have already started to look at this table by now. 

“You’re just jealous,” the girl sneers back.

You part your lips forming an apology at the tip of your tongue but you realize the damage you have done. She hurriedly tries to clean herself with a napkin to avoid eye contact. 

You should not pick on people’s emotions like that, however small, however meek it may seem to you, it's a lot for them. What’s with you today? This is not like you. This is more like  . . . Haruichi. He has this habit. Maybe it's starting to rub off on you simply because he is now working with your team on this upcoming project.

Izumo has always been like this. Flirting with girls, leading them on, giving them hope, and then, breaking their hearts. Does he realize that? The hurt he leaves in his wake? He is like a swan in a lake leisurely swimming in the evening that attracts ducks, influencing them to be like the swan, elegant and beautiful when there is a surge of fresh batches of interns; every year. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it backfires.

His flirting is not limited to just girls. That’s how he became such close friends with Aoi. But then again, it is not exactly flirting. Could it be he is unaware of how he carries himself? Nah! That’s too much of giving him the benefit of the doubt or maybe has managed to charm a part of you. Yeah! That would happen in any case. He picks up on people’s emotions really quickly and does not hesitate to call them out. It’s a nasty habit. 

That is how much you know about him, as a co-worker. Outside this office, he is a total stranger to you. So, you do not have to look out for him, worry about being among the swarm of ducks, he might turn into one, or fearing if there hides a hawk among them.

“That’s too much talking for an intern,” Iharu remarks, taking his plate and standing up.

“I agree.” Reno nods his head. “Wait, what?” He is not surprised by Iharu’s statement but rather his wit. Before the situation gets elongated you try to put an end in your way but whether the bow will pierce the heart or the head you gamble on that.

“Yes. maybe you’re right. That was so rude of me. But you see,” you bow your head a little to match her eye level since her eyes are on her plate. “ I don’t go for committed boys.”

Izumo’s face is aghast. What did you just say? He is not committed. He is single. Excuse you, did you not hear him a while ago? 

Izumo looks at Aoi, clearly uncomfortable and frightened by your burst of bubbling behavior. That was odd of you. He has never seen you this annoyed. He has always been like this with you, teasing and flirting around you with other people. Maybe the heat is going in your head today. You walk towards the dustbin to empty your plate before keeping it on a designated table. Everyone watches you as Izumo follows you like a kicked puppy searching for his owner. It’s pathetic.

He is not pathetic . You are just dumb. How can you not get it? How can you not see it? His feelings for you? Well, not that he exactly laid his heart out in front of you but isn’t it obvious? Everybody on his team is aware of it. Everybody on your team is aware of it. Are you really that dumb? Or do you just choose to ignore his feelings? If it is the latter then he is done for. Perhaps, the fear of abandonment and rejection compels him to create backups while at the same time, it gives him a refuge to hide his feelings; keep them protected, warm, and soft; so that he can still talk to you, still be around you, breathe the same air as you.

After all, who would look for a leaf in a forest?

“Fancy a candy?” Izumo chimes as he leans against the door frame of the archive room while you slide the access card to open the door.

“No thank you.” You tartly reply with a poker face. God, he followed you here, which means he is gonna yap for as long as he is here and God forbid he better not talk about what just happened in the dining hall. 

Izumo mumbles to himself, stepping into the room, “Guess I’ll have it then,” with a pout.

“Did the storage closet door lock behind us?” you ask as the bang of the metal door sends jolts throughout your body.

“I think so,” Izumo walks towards the door to check. He hopes that you are not playing any prank or something but then again, who would like to be stuck in the archive room? Especially in summer when the air conditioner is out of service and the fans have been hopeless since last spring. Izumo hears a loud thud. As he turns he finds you curled up in a fetal position on the floor struggling to breathe.

“Oh no no no no” you blabber feeling the dread and anxiety piling on top of your body. It is getting heavier. Seeing you like that, Izumo forgets what to do. At first, his feet move slowly though, then he quickens his pace but finally skids towards you since his calf muscles betray him.

“Breath. Look at me.” His voice is so faint or maybe you are already sinking in the depth of the attack. You know what to do. The tactic to overcome this. But with people around it gets harder. Most people do not know what to do and even if they did they are only aware of the ‘321’ rule since it is easier to remember, faster to execute, and the default suggestion before the medic arrives. Right. Medic. You can call, right? You touch your hips for your cellphone feeling only your skin and clothes. Your phone is at your work desk. Fuck. Your only hope is this guy, Izumo Haruichi.

“That’s not. . . it. you inhale barely but manage to say the next set of words in one breath. 

“That 321 rule doesn’t work on me.”

Immediately, your chest starts to feel heavy. Your head feels heavy. Your breathing is labored.

“Yes, I know. I know.” Izumo assures. His voice is so still, so even that it gathers all scattered pieces on him finally. “54321 it is.” He adds. He tries to make you sit but you are so stiff under the influence of fear that even with his strength he is in no luck. Moreover, he does not want you to treat him as a threat rather than a cane to grab on.

“Identify 5 things you can see,” 

Your eyes roam everywhere, to the farthest point it can see things. It has already started to itch and water. You blink rashly before mumbling. “Files—you inhale a long breath. “cabinets, AC, tables, chairs” 

“Next. 4 things you can touch” 

“The wall,” you say and touch it. You can finally sit up now, leg sprawled on the hot floor. Next, you touch your i-card. “My ID card.” Then your hair clip. “my hair clip,” unfastening it from your hair letting your hair fall onto your shoulders; it's a turquoise one today, and finally his ID card. You grab it in your hand and watch closely, flipping it too to glance at the other side . What an awful picture of Izumo .

“Your ID card.” 

Izumo holds you by the arms. His touch feels cold against yours. The full-sleeve dress is the only barrier between his skin and yours. Your palms clamp around his upper wrists. 

“Okay, 3 things you can hear:” 

“A.C.” 

“Fans.”

“Your voice,”

Izumo nods every time but it becomes slow at your third pick. 

“2 things you can smell.” It sinks in him: how in desperation and hunger you seek whatever you can get.

You take your scented handkerchief out of your pocket. Izumo takes it and holds it against your nose. Your exhaustive eyes look at him. His perfume smells rather too sweet today. You fall into his chest, embracing him. “Your perfume,” You whisper nuzzling against him. He is still sitting with his legs folded. You can hear his heartbeat, yours too. You are alive. You are very much alive.

“1 thing you can taste,” He says in a low voice, like the start of a lullaby. Reluctantly you pull your face away and look up. At this angle you can see his tongue, it’s white due to the candy. Could it be lichi flavored? There is still a bit of it left, peeking against his teeth.

Curiosity cascades into your body like rain and soaks him wet in a fraction of a second. It is an entirely foreign sensation for Izumo: Your lips are plush and soft with no hint of lipstick. The way your fingers press into his chest is unforgiving to his taut muscles creating a sense of pain, but a different kind of pain; the good kind. You are desperate and forceful. Your lips taste like spicy and honey. What did you have for lunch today? 

WAIT. You break the kiss. Izumo is as stunned as you are. His azure is asking why did you stop? You are still holding on to him. How did he know that the ‘321’ rule does not work on you? Moreover, how did he know that you have claustrophobia in the first place? 

Ah! Now it makes sense.

The realization paints your mind like it's high on drugs. Before you can think twice, your hands trail up to his nape enveloping his face. He instantly pulls you into his lap folding his legs one over the other to make you comfortable. He is swift and strong. This time, he is the one to demand first. The candy must have melted by now. It was coconut-flavored. You do not remember swallowing it neither does he but only the feeling of your lips on his, his on yours. He pulls away from the kiss gasping for air. His mouth and nose are cherry-tinted. He is getting an earful from Aoi for sure.

“I have texted Aoi.” His hands recoil back into his pocket from under your shirt. “He will be here soon.”

Izumo looks at the ground. Is it awkward? Yeah! Definitely. Does he want this to get over with? NO!NEVER. Damn him for wanting you. Damn him for craving you even at desperation like this.

You give him a long hum. “Why do you look like a crumpled receipt? It’s not like I will break your heart once we are out of the room, Izumo.” You place a kiss on his cheek. “Still have to thank you for saving my life.” 

You get out of his lap. He blinks hopelessly. Yeah, his suffering isn’t going to end . You still are as dense as a cabbage and so defenseless, so tactless, by god it drives him nuts. “I love you,” Izumo mumbles to himself. Aoi opens the door as you look at Izumo. 

“What did you just say?” Both of you walk side by side as you two walk out of the room. Aoi is still holding the door.

“Nothing” You continue to scrutinize him with your eyes.  “I said, I hate you.”

You smile. “Yeah! I hate you too.” 

Poor Aoi is still holding the door witnessing the cheesiest corny confession ever.

—

network: @underratedcharactercorner

[artlatrine]

too tight a space, too big a tummy

[whennoonecares]

Okay but: Modern AU for Cody x Obi-Wan, where they live in the same apartment building. Maybe they've shared a couple words before, but I wouldn't call them close.

I'm picturing Obi-Wan as a nurse, and Cody as security for somewhere, but neither job is set in stone.

Because the important bit is: they end up in the elevator at the same time. It stops between floors.

Obi-Wan- having experienced this before and frankly being too tired- sits on the floor. Where Cody- never having experienced this- doesn't freak out as such, but he doesn't feel good about this.

It's a few minutes, the little "Hey, we've phoned the fire department" light comes on, and now it's a waiting game.

Obi-Wan says, "You don't have to stand, you seem tired."

Cody eyes him suspiciously, but sits down.

They get to chatting and find that they'd been in the same brigade, but during different years, let alone all the faces one sees or doesn't while in the military.

It's a nice conversation- keep each other calm, though they weren't overly worried. Maybe nice enough conversation to go for coffee sometime?

[3lectricinsomnia]

Adventure gone wrong (more details below cut)

When he was 16, he got trapped after part of a cave collapsed on top of him. He was under there for hours until his family managed to break through and pull him out. He was hospitalized and in a coma for a couple of weeks.

This incident is one of the reasons why Eris’s soul bonds with him so quickly

[clowncarfullofrats]

being trans feels like dying and coming back "wrong" to everybody but you.

"You stole my daughter from me"

"You're still my little [dead name]"

"I'm sorry, i just have to grieve her."

I am not in my grave. look at the pictures! you can see so much discomfort in every picture of her! she barely existed!

im sorry clawing my way into life is disgusting to you, but can you please at least pretend to not hate me?

Or are you going to force me to pick my own coffin while telling me its out of love? are you going to nail it shut while telling me you only want my safety as i claw for out?

When you've put me in the ground will you hold another funeral for a little girl and cry that you wish you could of saved her.

[maid-fruitbat]

Sunbeam

Mizuki gets let out of her coffin and meets Yui for the very first time.

Cw: claustrophobia, medical terminology

Sequel to Terms and Conditions, which you can read here

This might be one of the sweeter things I’ve ever written hehehe,,

Incorrigible silence was an unwanted companion only undeath could bring.

On the first few days, she scratched the inside of the casket until she had to pull the splinters out from beneath her fingernails.

The casket’s size didn’t allow for much kicking or punching, so wailing and scratching like an enraged cat was the only appropriate course of action.

When the splinters got to be too much, Mizuki could only cry, wondering if Reiji would allow her to starve due to such a blunder.

He wouldn’t, would he? Would Reiji be the type of man to let a servant of the manor die in such obscurity? She thought long and hard on it, and instead chose not to dwell on the matter. She could dismiss Laito and his foolish shenanigans, how he lied to her when she wished to work for Karlheinz, and how he poured his heart out to her in a drunken, desperate stupor. She’d refuse him time and time again, and like clockwork, when she was self-sabotaging enough, she’d crawl onto him in the middle of the day to help warm her up again.

The unsanctioned trysts were just that.

Sometimes she’d lay there like the frozen corpse she was and get it over with, other times, the two fucked like two dogs trying to rip each other to shreds.

But at the end of all of them, he’d press his lips to her cool, cracked ones, and let in a wellspring of his half-demonic blood to sustain her. It would send her into a frenzy and he’d have to hold her down as she thrashed, but it was customary when fruit and whipped cream sandwiches from the konbini just didn’t cut it.

It was intimate. Sometimes she’d allow herself to bite his lip and lap the blood straight from the source, penetrating him as he penetrated her time and time again. It wasn’t love, it never was, but when you’re young and desperate, you take what you can get. And when it eventually leaves, that’s when you know you got all you deserved.

In this house, under their service, she could find no solace. So, naturally, she slept. The casket was at least insulated, silken finery pressed against every inch of her, her head making that funny slipping noise whenever she moved it against the silk pillowcase.

She was under the impression that the undead couldn’t have dreams, but in truth, Mizuki’s dreams only grew more vivid since that fateful night on the school’s dormitory roof.

As if nothing had changed, she dreamt she was back home, working with her parents and sister at the izakaya they owned, the humid air thick with the smell of gyoza and beer. She’d dream of the telltale signs of summer, monsoon warnings, cicada songs and salted watermelon. In time, she dreamt of the kind man her sister married, how her eyes would now crinkle at the edges while Mizuki’s stayed the same, how the faces of her niece and nephew went from round, squished baby dolls to adorable visages that mirrored their parents’. She always woke up crying after those dreams, nostalgia and longing turning into ash in her mouth.

Rudely interrupting her self-induced self-pity coma, she awakened to the sound of a key being slotted into a lock. Hope danced in her dead heart, but she willed every muscle in her body to contain herself. She could have sang and jumped for joy when Reiji opened the lid of the casket, his face a constant mask of detached, yet refined professionalism.

“Would you like to come out?”

He asked, to which Mizuki nodded a bit too quickly for her liking. This prompted him to open the other half of the casket, stepping back so she could get out. Every muscle in her body ached, her joints feeling as if they had been welded into place, rigor mortis having taken place after months of restricted mobility. Reiji’s face was contemplative, and he reached a hand to palpate Mizuki’s thin arm. Months ago, she would have raised an eyebrow, but she was exhausted, she felt like a newborn animal, everything much too loud and bright after being in the comforting, warm dark.

Then, without warning, he bent Mizuki’s elbow, the cartilage giving a ceremonious pop as he moved to her wrist. She gasped, naturally, not out of pain, but out of pure shock that her body could make such a sound. Still, she let Reiji give her body a full examination, making sure nothing was broken or too atrophied.

“You need to eat. Our supply is limited, so you will have to sustain yourself on the fruit you so enjoy. But do make haste,”

Said Reiji, straightening out her apron and fixing her hair in an odd way that reminded her of her mother.

“We have a new guest staying at the estate, see to it that her chambers stay clean, am I understood?”

“Yes, young master Reiji. Thank you.”

Mizuki would have liked a bath, but a small meal before returning to her neglected duties would have to suffice. On the kitchen counter, there was a plate of thinly-sliced mango, ripe, shiny and golden like beams of sunlight, untouched by the corpse princes. The presentation alone sent Mizuki into a tizzy. Not apologizing and offering sliced fruit as a peace offering? Maybe the reason she feared Reiji so much was because he reminded her of her mom. As she ate, she relished in the mango’s sweetness and reminisced on the firecracker that was her mother.

Feeling rejuvenated after moving around and eating, Mizuki took to the halls in search of this new guest. She knew what that meant. Yet another lamb to the slaughter, another sacrifice to be thrown to the wolves. She wondered how long this one would last, would it be a matter of days like the last one? Or would they play the long game? These thoughts only dissolved away when she saw the meek, blonde thing exit the room reserved for the brides, clad in casual clothing, cute yet modest.

“Oh, good evening!”

Mizuki’s eyes widened, something stirred inside her. Her voice was high, soft lips curved into a polite smile as she bowed sweetly. She was cute, adorable even. Mizuki had the stray thought that if she put this girl on her tongue, she’d melt like sugar. She could see the sincerity in her rose-colored eyes, and Mizuki quickly realized that her mouth went completely dry, and needed to respond.

“Good evening, my lady. Should you need anything, please let me know.”

The little bride seemed relieved at that, and gazed at Mizuki with what could only be described as hopeful yearning.

“Thank you.”

The two stayed quiet for a long time, awkward silence becoming a yawning chasm between them until the bride piped up,

“I like your hair clip!”

Mizuki’s hands raised up to the white rabbit hair beret she always wore in her hair, and for the first time in years, she smiled. The muscles in her cheeks cramped, but it felt good, like rubbing a sore muscle after a day of working out.

“Thank you, I like your outfit.”

This saccharine back and forth was a lost art to Mizuki.

Girl talk, as it was, wasn’t something the familiars really got into, they were always too engrossed in whatever they were doing to give compliments or crack jokes, but this girl, this sweet, innocent thing that was sent here to die by the church, went out of her way to be nice to her, and that was a debt Mizuki could never repay.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to tend to my duties, but if you need anything, call for me.”

Said Mizuki, flattening out her apron in a nervous habit.

“Wait, what’s your name?”

Mizuki made a brushing off motion with her now-relaxed wrist.

“You can just call me familiar. We have no need for names here, there are many others like me, so one of us is bound to hear you.”

Her voice was starting to grow quiet and raspy from disuse, but still, she bowed and excused herself.

In due time, she would learn that Laito had given the bride a nickname, little bitch which Mizuki thought was rich coming from him, but she cared not for the crass nicknames and double entendres he threw her way. Yui wasn’t supposed to die, Shu informed her of that, and the news made her suspicious, yet relieved. So, naturally, she tended to her duties of cleaning, tidying and organizing, balancing Laito’s whims with helping Yui in minute ways. Such as completing schoolwork she was otherwise too drained to do, cleaning up whatever mess she made in her clumsy stumbling around the estate, guiding her to her room when the night got too dark using the candelabras, holding a lit match in her mouth as she flitted through the air like a silent shadow.

So long as Yui was in the house, her service at the manor was slightly more tolerable.

[drdt-headcanons]

Nico is incredibly claustrophobic, they do not even like the idea of an enclosed space or not being able to move fully

Given what they said about their dad in the last episode, it doesn’t feel like a stretch to assume they have some scars either mentally or physically

:(

[thunder-opossum]

I am shouting and freaking out internally but I don't know how to post about it. but I am coyote stuck in a 10ft deep cylindrical hole in concrete, and there is a rusted metal grate at the top. The walls are smooth and cold while the ground is bumpy and uneven. And the world is quiet, but i know everything is still moving on without me.

And i can't breathe

[abubblingcandle]

Augusnippets Day 25 - Flashbacks - Ted Lasso

cw - flashbacks, PTSD, past child abuse, claustrophobia, panic attacks

Jamie had been working with Doctor Fieldstone on the things that his dad had ruined for him and that caused his panic attacks. But every so often he still accidentally stumbled on something that set off a memory he had forgotten about

Here on AO3 @augusnippets

“Fuck!” Jamie cursed, dropping down onto the moist grass. He didn’t even do anything. He was just running, stopped and was stepping down the curb. His body went down the curb, his ankle didn’t agree with that as an idea and so his body crumpled.

“Shit!” Roy continued the swear word roulette. Before Jamie could think about moving, Roy had his arms underneath Jamie’s and was pulling him back upright.

“I think I’m,” Jamie winced before testing putting weight down on the irritated appendage. “Nope, nope,” Jamie cried out as it buckled again under his weight. He squeezed his eyes shut and let Roy manipulate him. All Jamie’s focus was on making sure his foot did not touch the floor. Until the back of his legs hit on the rear bumper of the G Wagon. The feeling was like a jolt of electricity, piercing through his veins leaving destruction in it’s wake. He couldn’t breathe, his chest was collapsing in on itself. There were hands on him, he didn’t want hands on him.

“Just get the fuck in junior.”

The hands weren’t letting go. He couldn’t struggle. It would hurt more if he struggled.

“We’ve got places to be and you’re the smallest. I’d do it if I could but I won’t fit you hear.” Jamie could feel his dad’s breath on his face and smell the stench of cheap cologne and stale beer.

“I’ll just walk,” Jamie whispered, hands finally reconnecting with his brain to reach up and grip tightly onto his hair.

“Jamie.” Hands gripped at his wrists, trapping him in place.

“Jamie do not embarrass me. If you will not get in there then I will make you. So stupid.” The grip on his wrists was becoming bruising as Jamie struggled in place lashing out with his elbows, his feet, his head anything that would move. But the grip wouldn’t release. The growling of displeasure continued. He was lifted up of his feet and then everything went black.

It was too tight. His dad had said with pride just a few days before that Jamie was a growing lad and would be taller than his dad in no time. That growth spurt height now was betraying him as Jamie tucked his knees into his chest to stop whatever else was in the boot digging into his legs. His head was already throbbing from the hit against the old opened paint can that had been leaking into the boot of his dad’s car for months. It was so dark. Jamie couldn’t even tell if he had is eyes open or not. “You’re lucky mate, kids just ain’t built like they were when I was a young un,” Jamie could hear his dad’s abrasive laugh over the rumbling of the engine turning over.

“Tell you the number of times my old man would take me out and I’d have to sit in the boot as there wasn’t room,” Denbo laughed and there was a chitter of mirroring chuckles from the other occupants of the car.

“Just a part of growing up, George fucking spoils the little leech. Needs a bit of toughening up,” James huffed. Tears prickled at Jamie’s eyes. He pressed his fist against his mouth to bite and try and stifle the pained and scared sobs. He couldn’t be seen crying, not by his dad’s friends, that would just make it a million times worse. He wasn’t some little baby that was scared of the dark. It was his own fault. His dad would have taken off the parcel shelf and there would have been more room if he hadn’t had been a whiny brat. He just needed to get over himself and …

“Jamie, can you hear me?”

Jamie froze in place. That wasn’t one of his dad’s friends. It was too soft, too caring to be someone that would associate with James Tartt.

“He’s stopped the biting, that’s something right?”

Roy? Roy was here? But wasn’t there? Where was here?

“Jamie I need you to open your eyes for me?” the nice voice, not Roy, asked. But Jamie couldn’t do that. He shook his head slightly, too worried about hitting the paint can again to do it further. If he opened his eyes he would just see the darkness and Roy and Not Roy would go away and he would be trapped and alone again. “Jamie, you are on a side road near Richmond Green leaning up against the wheel of Coach Kent’s car. If you don’t believe me you can reach out. Just move your right hand off your lap and you’ll feel the tarmac.” Jamie shook his head again. No matter what the nice voice in his head was saying he couldn’t move his arm because it would hit something and what if it was the bolt cutters?

“Jamie, could you try? I’m, I’m starting to get really fucking worried mate,” that was Roy Kent that time. Jamie would know that voice anywhere. But Roy Kent was worried about him, why was imaginary Roy Kent worried about him and asking him to move his arm. But despite that his arm moved seemingly of it’s own accord. It stretched downwards and collided with a rough, bitty surface. It did feel like a road.

“There you are Jamie. See what that feels like. Focus on that feeling and open your eyes.” Jamie rolled a loose piece of the fine rock over his fingertips. His eyes did inch open to look down at the piece in his hand. It was dark grey and jagged and despite the prickle, felt good in his hand. He wasn’t in a car boot. He was sat on the side of a road with a very concerned Roy Kent holding out a phone with Doctor Fieldstone’s face peering back at him. “Are you back with us Jamie?” Doctor Fieldstone asked and that was enough to start the torrent. Sobs ripped their way out of Jamie and poured all over the pavement like someone had taken a knife to him and just started ripping things out.

He could faintly here Roy thanking Doctor Fieldstone then a hand settled on his knee. Roy could surely feel the small flinch at the contact but he kept his hand there, a settling weight. It was easily identifiable as Roy Kent’s hand, not anything that could be kept in a handyman’s car boot.

“I just want to go home,” Jamie choked out through his tears.

“Ok then lad. Let’s get you home. You wanna choose the music?” Roy offered, opening the passenger seat door with his free hand and leaving it there inviting for Jamie. Jamie nodded, that would help. He could do this. He wasn’t scared of cars. He could get in the passenger seat like the passenger princess Roy always muttered about him being and he could annoy Roy with his music selections. He could do this. This wasn’t going to be another thing ruined by James Tartt.

It was the topic of an emergency session with Doctor Fieldstone the next day, another trigger that Jamie hadn’t been aware of. Another thing ruined by James Tartt Sr. But when he stood a respectable distance away and saw a loving uncle lift a fantastic little blonde veterinarian for wild animals to sit on the edge of the boot so he could clean a scraped knee, Jamie felt like it might be one he could fix.

[thegirlwholikesstims]

the buried

with dirt, cave, and coffin stims

🪦 🪦 🪦

🪦 🪦 🪦

🪦 🪦 🪦

divider by @saradika-graphics

[egginfroggin]

hi! i’d be interested in hearing more about the dying of the light AU if you don’t mind sharing any thoughts or details!

Hi! I don't mind, just lemme scrape my brain real quick (so many thoughts).

Honestly, the Dying of the Light AU has been giving me some issues as far as the ending goes, but other than that, I have a few ideas.

This got. so long. so, again, there's a break put in place further down.

We're dragging Kyurem into this, first of all

after Emmet "snaps," you could call it, and completely loses control of his powers, Reshiram amplifies it to the point of halting the ongoing autumn, replacing it with summer-like heat and causing a massive drought that starts to spread out from its epicenter around Nimbasa/Route 4

Once Reshiram's involvement is confirmed, it's decided that the other dragons will be brought into this

Ingo, chosen by Ideals, will pursue Zekrom, and hopefully that will help tip the scales in his favor, helping him root out the deceit Reshiram speaks of and reinstating Truth without Unova crumbling

Iris and Drayden both go after Kyurem, and do eventually find it; however, Kyurem will only help them if they give it something in return

They both wind up being roped into a bond with it, agreeing to give it their time and attention, which it seeks after a long time hidden away from people and its own siblings

The intent is to essentially use Kyurem's ice and cold to combat Reshiram's heat -- winter is summoned against summer, and the result is a sort of flaky half-season, somewhat like spring and autumn at the same time, though the cold is more extreme around Kyurem's location and the heat is more extreme around Reshiram's location

Content warnings for burns, claustrophobia, and possession under the cut! And thank you very much again for the ask, Anon! I hope you have a very good day! ^^

Reshiram is definitely doing some possessing by the way

In Reshiram's defense, Emmet can't be trusted to not run off and mess up its plans, so. yeah

Also, speaking with mortals is far easier when one has the approximate appearance of a mortal so there's that too

Zekrom doesn't so much as possess Ingo as it does reside within him/follow him around. It will speak through him at times, and certainly bolster him, but it rarely if ever just up and snatches his body to go do something

Kyurem does not care about possessing people it just wants a friend and thinks its siblings are being overly dramatic

I somewhat implied it in And Learn, too Late, but the twins actually have a few dislikes/phobias related to their respective Dragons! Ingo dislikes having his Ideals and intentions restricted, and has a mild case of claustrophobia; this is mean to reflect Zekrom's weakness to ground, as being enclosed makes Ingo feel restricted and like he's being put under pressure (i.e., a coffin or being entombed) Emmet's aversions are more prominent due to the strength of Reshiram's gift/influence on him; detecting deceit and lies makes him feel physically ill, and he has a severe aversion to deep water and pouring rain

Drayden and Iris don't really have any issues after they connect with Kyurem, as their dynamic with the Dragon differs from the twins' and their respective Dragons; it's more of a mutual agreement that they're bound to, rather than a direct piece of power being imbued as a gift and a connection

Going off of this logic and that of the above point, I suppose that that would mean that after Ingo finds Zekrom and his own gift is strengthened, he would have worse claustrophobia

Similar to the accident that happened in Iced Tracks, Emmet accidentally hurt Ingo when they were little; only, in this case, it involved fire, and Ingo's clothes caught, leading to pretty severe burns on his arm, side, and part of his jaw; they healed well, but the trauma of the situation combined with him passing out made him forget :< Emmet had no such "luck," he just dead-up remembers ("Dragons, Truth irrefutable, Truth before him, he knew how skin melted," from The Sun in Flight)

Emmet is not immune to his own powers, though the worst damage is done when it manifests physically, such as when he forms flames or embers

Much of the damage that he's unintentionally inflicted on himself comes from accidentally setting his cuffs on fire, burning his wrists and arms, or from conducted heat searing his palms when he's holding something

He doesn't wear gloves anymore

He doesn't leave fingerprints anymore, either

(He's not made to contain so much power, he's kindling for a pyre he has no choice but to light, and only the power of Reshiram itself can keep him safe from its own curse of a gift)

On a lighter note, someone asked in a comment on The Sun in Flight if Emmet wore gloves or not, and if his powers affected his clothes since he can burn things so easily

For the sake of his decency -- and my sanity -- I'm basically handwaving the matter of his powers not just burning off all his clothes as magical interference; if his cuffs caught, maybe it could spread if he let it, but that would also hurt, so he doesn't

This being said, though, Reshiram basically fireproofs his body when its possessing him

And with that being said, I couldn't resist this entirely silly mental image: Reshiram: ugh, mortal's clothes are so restricting, why do you even bother with such a nuisance -- Emmet: IF YOU BURN MY CLOTHES OFF AND MAKE ME RUN AROUND UNOVA NAKED I WILL PERSONALLY STRANGLE YOU YOU STUPID BALL OF FEATHERS

So Emmet gets to keep his clothes (thank goodness)

Thank you, Anon! ^^

[cynicalrosebud]

Kinktober Day 19

Warnings: Sexual Themes, Gags, Mummification, Hoods, Restraints, BDSM

Prompt: Mummification + Sensory Deprivation

Pairing: Ghost x Rumor

The rest of Kinktober

The dimly lit room was steeped in anticipation, the air thick with unspoken tension. Rumor lay on the bed, tightly wrapped in layers of soft, yet unyielding fabric. He could barely move, his senses heightened by the mummification that left him completely vulnerable. A soft penis gag filled his mouth and throat, muffling any sound he might make, while a bondage hood obscured his sight, plunging him into darkness. The only part of his body still exposed to the air was his cock, twitching in suspense in the cold air.

Ghost watched from the shadows, an approving smirk on his lips as he took in the sight before him. Rumor’s body, encased in the snug bindings, looked exquisite and utterly helpless. He relished the power of the moment, knowing that Rumor trusted him completely.

“Ready, love?” Ghost’s voice was a low rumble, but Rumor couldn’t respond, the gag holding back any words. Instead, he felt the rush of anticipation as Ghost stepped closer, the warmth of his presence radiating through the room.

Ghost’s fingers grazed the fabric wrapped around Rumor’s torso, and he let out a soft whimper, excitement coursing through him. Every touch was electrifying, each caress drawing out his vulnerability. The sensory deprivation made the world outside fade away, leaving him fully attuned to Ghost’s hands exploring his body.

Ghost leaned in, pressing his lips to Rumor’s neck, trailing kisses down to his collarbone. The sensation sent shivers racing through Rumor’s body, and he squirmed against the restraints, the thrill of being completely at Ghost’s mercy intoxicating.

“Just relax and let go,” Ghost murmured against his skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. He tightened the bindings slightly, the added pressure making Rumor gasp behind the gag. “You’re safe with me.”

Rumor’s heart raced as he surrendered completely to the sensation, the thrill of being so exposed pushing him further into bliss. Ghost’s fingers danced over him, tracing delicate patterns that made his skin tingle. He could feel the tension building, a heat pooling low in his core, but he knew Ghost had other plans.

“Do you want to come?” Ghost whispered, the question reverberating through Rumor’s body, awakening every nerve ending.

Rumor responded with a muffled whimper, his body aching for release, the pressure building with each teasing stroke Ghost gave him.

But just as Rumor felt himself teetering on the edge, Ghost pulled back slightly, denying him the release he so desperately craved. “Not yet,” he purred, relishing in Rumor’s frustration.

The sensation of denial was almost too much, and Rumor writhed against the bindings, his breathing quickening behind the gag. He was lost in a haze of pleasure and frustration, every muscle taut with need.

Ghost chuckled softly, clearly enjoying Rumor’s desperate state. “You’ll have to earn it, love. Just trust me, and I’ll take you there.”

With that, Ghost resumed his teasing, his hands exploring Rumor’s body with deliberate slowness. Rumor could feel Ghost’s warmth enveloping him, could sense the hunger in his touch, and it drove him wild. The mummification only heightened the sensations, leaving him breathless and craving more.

“Just a little longer,” Ghost murmured, his fingers working their magic, each movement calculated to build the tension even further. “I promise it will be worth it.”

Rumor’s body responded instinctively, the intense pleasure building within him, each teasing caress pushing him closer to the edge. The gag muffled his cries, but his body betrayed him, every twitch and squirm a testament to his desperation.

Finally, with a teasing smile, Ghost pushed Rumor over the edge, the intense sensations washing over him in waves. As pleasure flooded through him, Rumor realized that in this moment of sensory deprivation, he had never felt more alive, more connected, and utterly fulfilled in Ghost’s embrace.