#it felt like my spine was going to collapse in on itself

[hauntedpotat]

WE DID THE HILL A DAY EARLY

HELP

For context at band camp there's a really steep hill and when we march on the streets we go up and then down said hill, while playing etc

I'm not kidding it's probably a 70 degree angle and I know math stuff

I hate it so much because I have snare drum and I can't lift my knees very far without hitting the bottom of the drum so the entire percussion section is just struggling for like 30 feet

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

What if instead of threatening to take Ford's eyes, Bill just took Fiddleford's?

Tate still remembered the night his father's sight was taken from him.

"What have you done to me, Stanford?"

He felt the storm coming even before the first lightning struck. From the very moment he opened his eyes that morning until the very moment he lay back down to bed, he could feel a vicious tension brewing in the otherwise serene household.

Storms were very uncommon at Tate's house, and on the rare occasions they did arrive, they never stayed for long.

Yet, after a quiet breakfast full of anxious, unmet glances and clattering cutlery that rang far too loudly in the silence of the table, he knew that this storm was going to be unlike any other storm he'd witnessed before.

A prickling, disquieting static seemed to have made itself at home underneath his skin, that day. It had made every hair on his body stand on end, and an odd stinging sensation to dance across his spine and tongue; an uncomfortable urge to duck and take cover low on the ground nearly overwhelming his every sense. It was like waiting for the shattering thunderclap to sound after the sky turned white with a blinding flash of light. He knew what was coming, and the anticipation was unbearable.

His mother and father had acted as though nothing was wrong; as though they didn't feel the looming presence of the darkening clouds growing like a murky gray forest on the ceiling.

He hadn't been able to fathom at the time how adults could seem so all-knowing, and yet simultaneously be so utterly clueless about the very obvious happenings that surrounded them. Now, though, he just found it strange how adults often tend to assume children don't feel the stifling weight that they hung around themselves; as if children didn't breathe the same bitter choked air as their parents did. It wasn't even as though they did a very good job at pretending; his parents always were terrible liars.

When the lightning finally struck, it set the house ablaze.

He heard the thunder from his room, and felt the crackling heat crawl up the stairs and seep through the gap beneath his door. He'd laid in his bed, hand clasped nervously across his chest and looking up at his room's cloudy, weeping ceiling as a cacophonic explosion of noises came bursting from the living room downstairs. The fight had erupted with such unprecedented force that in Tate's young mind, he'd felt genuine fear of the house collapsing atop them all from the sheer force of the yelling.

The smell of burnt tongues gently wafted through the air, and Tate briefly wondered if it hurt his parents when they scorched their mouths with such scalding words just as much as it hurt for him to hear it.

It was a big fight; a terrible, big fight; so loud, and so very angry, and helpless, and desperate, and betrayed, and sad.

The back and forth screeching seemed endless, and eventually the screaming words began to muddle and merge into one another until they hardly even sounded human anymore. Suddenly there were animals wailing in the living room downstairs, and Tate could do nothing but listen helplessly and grip his interlocked fingers tighter; hoping that if he stayed still enough, then the growling beasts that were shattering plates downstairs wouldn't come upstairs.

But then,

then,

something changed.

The shift was all too sudden; too abrupt; too quick even for the usually sharp witted child to catch on, and before he knew it, the screams of anger suddenly shifted into one of pure, unadulterated horror.

"Fiddleford, your eyes- good lord, your eyes! Let me look at them!" "Don't touch me! I- I must call Stanford, he's done something to me. Him and that demon, they've cursed me." "For Heaven's sake! Please, forget about that damned Stanford of yours for one moment and listen to yourself! My husband's gone mad, mad!"

And suddenly his parents were human again.

Tate was restless in his bed as his heart seemed to beat bruises against his ribs, his sweaty fingers digging crescent shaped grooves into his skin as fear enclosed its frigid claws around his throat in a vice-like grip. He couldn't breathe.

The storm was over, and it should have reassured him, and yet he was anything but.

Curiosity and fear had been what forced him to kick the sheets off himself and creep his way down the rickety wooden steps. He had to know what happened, he had to know what damage the storm had caused, he had to know.

His steps were far from quiet, and the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet hardly did him any favors, but no one answered the calls of the squeaking wood. No one came peeking out from the living room to stop the obviously sneaking presence that was tip toeing through the halls; No one called out to check on their little child; all was silent, and calm, except for his mother's soft sobbing coming from the kitchen.

When Tate eventually found his father, he saw

devastation.

The storm had been merciless. It had left nothing behind but a shuddering husk of a man. His father was shaking like a leaf, shoulders tense and back hunched over as though bowed by an incredible burden. The telephone receiver was held in his hand like a lifeline; as if it was the only thing in the world that was keeping him tethered to sanity, and somehow, Tate didn't doubt that it was.

Curled up on the floor in the dark, muttering and trembling, he dared say his father looked... small.

It almost felt surreal to see his father in such a state, like witnessing a God collapse, or a star's light dim to nothingness. His father had always been a solid, permanent pillar sho seemed able to hold up the whole world on his shoulders, and still stand tall and proud despite the weight.

And yet, the crumbling remains of a once impermeable monolith now lay scattered across the hallway floor and splattered across the walls.

The sight had scared him.

At the time, Tate hadn't known what had happened. Even to this day, he still wasn't too sure he understood what exactly had taken place in that living room for his father to have so sudddenly gone from seeing to blind in the matter of seconds.

His mother had tried, in vain, to explain it to him later, to try and make him understand when he was eventually old enough to hear the gruesome tale; but still, he struggled to fully wrap his head around it.

"It was as though his eyes just sunk into his skull," his mother had recounted to him with a haunted look in her eyes. "They suddenly just vanished into the empty sockets of his face, like someone pulled them out from inside his head. There was no blood, no resistance, no tearing. It was as if his eyes were simply plucked out of sight by some invisible hand."

There had been blood on the walls when he had found father back then, a long trail of gorey wet red smeared all across the lovely yellow wallpaper. He realized only now, recalling the memory, that the blood back then had not been from his father's eyes, but from the deep gouges he had dug into his face with his nails, his searching fingers desperately looking for eyes that weren't there beneath his empty eyelids.

"What have you done to me, Stanford?"

Tate had never heard his father's voice sound so raw, so afraid. It was so unlike the familiar comforting drawl he'd grown to love and recognize, it almost sounded alien, coming from his father.

"I can't see, Stanford, I can't- my eyes, they're gone. Why are they gone? What have you done?" "Answer me, damnit, what have you done?"

His father never got his answer, because whoever was on the other side of the line soon hung up, and his father was suddenly left blind and alone.

[st4rg8te]

A Captured Dragon (BL)

Yandere! Half-brother X Crown Prince! Reader

[tw: graphic depiction(s) of violence, obsessive behaviour, betrayal, imprisonment, gaslighting, non-con kissing, incest!!!, teeny tiny bit of feminization]

✦✧✦✧

“You have done nothing to deserve that title. You were only lucky enough to be born the King’s son.”

A lot of things in life were beyond your control. 

But fate had been kind to you, gifting you a life that most could only dream of. Born into the royal family as their beloved Crown Prince, the world bent to your will from the very moment you drew your first breath. 

Spoiled, indulged, and never once tested by struggle—perhaps you were destined to fall from the start.

✦✧✦✧

✦✧✦✧

It’s getting harder to tell the days apart.

The world around you blurs into a cycle of sleepless nights. Your mind is a fog, heavy with the weight of guilt and fear. Each hour blends into the next, until time itself feels like a punishment.

The nightmares don’t help either.

Every time you close your eyes, they come—haunting, vivid dreams where blood stains the corridors and screams pierce the air. The sounds of blades slicing through flesh, of bodies collapsing onto blood-soaked floors, echo endlessly in your ears. It is relentless. 

You see the palace engulfed in flames, your servants and people—those you’ve known your entire life—crying out in terror as they are cut down by the cold steel of soldiers.

In every dream, you stand helpless, watching as they beg for mercy. Your people reach for you in desperation, their faces twisted in agony, but you can’t move. 

In every dream, at the center of it all, is him.

Daewon.

Your half-brother.

While you grew up in the limelight, basking in the affections and adoration of others, your half-brother was cast into the shadows. Born from a lowly maid, his very existence was a blemish on the royal family's image. He was the son who would never be acknowledged by his father—neither loved nor remembered.

Despite that, you had treated him kindly.

When did everything go so wrong?

After the slaughter, you were taken away and imprisoned. The room you were kept in was dark and empty—there was no light, or any warmth. It was a far cry from the luxury you were used to.

Occasionally, food and water would be brought to you—a guard would come every few days, sliding bowls of stale rice and cloudy water across the floor without a word, without so much as a glance in your direction. You felt like an animal.

But worse than the silence of your captors were the visits from Daewon.

You hated those days the most.

“Brother.” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. You can’t make out his face within the shadows.

So you bury your head further into the damp pillows, hiding from the monster in the room.

It isn’t long before you feel the bed dip under his weight, the chain on your ankle rustles against the sheets. He kneels beside you, leaning close enough for you to smell the faint traces of blood still lingering on his robe.

“You haven’t been eating,” Daewon’s voice was soft, almost tender, but you could hear the dark amusement laced beneath it. “Is the food not to your liking?”

You keep your eyes shut tight, fists clenched under the thin blankets.

It'll all be okay. Soon enough, he would leave you alone.

Cold fingers brush against your cheek, and you flinch. He chuckles at that, a low, mocking sound that makes your skin crawl.

“Did you know that these meals are what I had to eat as a child?” He whispers, his breath hot against your ears.

You briefly open your eyes, glancing at the food scattered across the floor, remnants of your earlier fit of rage—destroyed, just like everything else in your life. 

“There were many days when the servants never even came. My mother often gave me her share, just so I wouldn't starve." 

You grit your teeth—

"Why don't you just kill me already?"

The words hang in the air, and a suffocating silence stretches between you.

But then, Daewon's firm hand suddenly grips your chin, forcing you to meet his dark gaze.

“Kill you?” A cruel, guttural laugh escapes him, sending a shiver down your spine. “But death would be far too easy.” 

“No... you have to live. You’ll live and endure. Just like I did.”

He had lived a life of invisibility, where no one cared to look beyond the stain of his tainted blood—no one, except you.

And the thought of it drives him mad.

His hand falls from your chin, trailing down until it rests against your chest. With that simple touch, your spirit breaks just a little more.

You hate him—hate him more than you’ve ever hated anyone. 

Without any warning, you feel the press of his soft lips against your own. His body heat seeps into yours as he forcefully pulls you closer and presses you flush against him.

You are too tired, too hungry to resist.

"No, stop—" You protest breathlessly, the words barely escaping your lips as your mind reels, still foggy from the kiss. A dizzying mix of shock, confusion, and disgust floods your senses.

"This is wrong, we can't—"

"They will never fully accept a half-blooded bastard like me as their king."

“What?” You swallow hard, blinking up at the man.

"But surely, they'll accept a 'bride' from the royal family.”

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. 

Before you can react, his lips crash against yours again, harder this time, more possessive. The taste of him—bitterness and control—invades your senses completely.

A twisted smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and you finally understand.

This is a debt of suffering, a price he intends to collect over and over—until you were broken.

"Don’t worry. For everything you’ve done for me, I'll repay your kindness tenfold."

✦✧✦✧

[A/N]

This was not proofread, sorry for any mistakes!

[rosemariiaa]

~Holding On~

pairing- Paige x Azzi

a/n: not really much to say.. but this was kind of sad to write. I’m taking requests for a while until I start on something new , so send what you want to read lovelies 💌

Anon Request: • can u write pazzi oneshot where paige has thanatophobia and has panic attack and azzi id there to comfort her •

themes: fear of dying

Enjoy!!!

The apartment was quiet, but inside Paige’s head, it felt anything but. Her breathing was shallow, erratic—her hands trembling as her mind spiraled down a dark, endless tunnel. The walls felt like they were closing in on her, the fear wrapping itself around her chest like a vice. She was trying to keep it together, but it was slipping, all of it slipping.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it. The end. That moment when everything just… stops. What if it came sooner than she thought? What if she wasn’t ready? What if she left everything and everyone behind?

Her chest tightened, her heartbeat thrumming too fast, too loud. She pressed her back against the cool wall of her room, gasping for air that didn’t seem to reach her lungs. The world felt like it was fading, like she was falling, and she couldn’t stop it.

Azzi wasn’t supposed to come over tonight. Paige had tried to be normal during practice, tried to laugh and joke like always. But the moment she was alone, it crept back in. And now it was suffocating her. Somehow, through the fog of her thoughts, she heard her phone buzz. Azzi. She didn’t have the strength to answer it.

Then, the door opened. Paige’s breathing hitched when she heard Azzi’s voice, soft but concerned. “Paige? You didn’t answer my texts. You okay?”

Azzi’s eyes immediately landed on Paige, crumpled on the floor, her knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around herself as if trying to hold her body together.

“Oh my God, Paige,” Azzi whispered, rushing to her side.

Paige couldn’t even speak. She could barely breathe. She felt a cold sweat trickling down her spine, her vision swimming. Her mind was racing, chaotic and frantic, screaming things she couldn’t control.

Azzi dropped to her knees beside Paige, her own panic rising, but she pushed it down. She needed to be strong right now. Gently, she cupped Paige’s face in her hands, forcing her to meet her eyes. “Hey, hey… I’m right here. You’re okay. Breathe with me, okay?”

Paige’s eyes were wide, unfocused, but she tried to latch onto Azzi’s voice. It was like a lifeline, a rope pulling her from the deep end, but it was hard. Everything was hard.

“I can’t,” Paige managed to choke out, her voice raw, broken. “I can’t… Azzi, I… it’s like… I can’t stop thinking about it. I feel like I’m going to die. I— “You’re not going to die,” Azzi said firmly, though her voice cracked with emotion. She wrapped her arms around Paige, pulling her close, holding her as tightly as she could. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Paige’s body shook as she collapsed into Azzi’s embrace, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Azzi held her, one hand stroking her hair, the other rubbing circles on her back. She didn’t say anything for a while, just let Paige cry, let her panic run its course. The weight of the fear was crushing, suffocating.

“I’m scared,” Paige finally whispered, her voice so small it almost broke Azzi’s heart.

“I know, baby. I know,” Azzi whispered back. “But you’re not alone. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

They sat like that for what felt like hours, the weight of Paige’s fear slowly lifting, little by little. Her breathing started to even out, though the trembling in her hands remained. She could feel Azzi’s heartbeat against her own chest, steady, grounding her in a way she hadn’t thought was possible.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Azzi asked quietly, her fingers still running through Paige’s hair.

Paige didn’t answer at first. She didn’t know where to begin, how to explain what it felt like to be so terrified of the end—so terrified of something inevitable. Finally, she whispered, “I think about it all the time. About dying. About not being here anymore. It’s like this… weight. I try to ignore it, but sometimes it just… it takes over. And tonight, I just—” Her voice broke, and she clutched Azzi tighter. “It’s too much.”

Azzi closed her eyes, trying to keep herself from crying. She hated seeing Paige like this, so vulnerable, so scared. “You don’t have to go through this alone,” she said softly. “I know it feels like you’re carrying it all by yourself, but I’m here. Always.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Paige whispered, her voice barely audible.

“You won’t,” Azzi said, her voice fierce, determined. “You’re stuck with me, okay? Forever, if I have anything to say about it.” Paige gave a shaky laugh, though it was more out of exhaustion than amusement. “Forever, huh?”

“Forever,” Azzi confirmed, leaning down to press a kiss to Paige’s forehead. “We’re in this together.”

Paige nodded, her breathing slowly returning to normal. She didn’t feel okay, not completely. The fear was still there, lurking in the back of her mind, but it felt… manageable, at least for now. With Azzi holding her, it didn’t feel like it was swallowing her whole.

“I love you,” Paige whispered, her voice soft and fragile.

Azzi’s heart swelled, and she kissed the top of Paige’s head again, pulling her even closer. “I love you too. And I’m going to be here, no matter how hard it gets. You don’t have to be scared alone.”

They stayed like that, tangled together on the floor, the world outside their small apartment fading away. For now, it was just the two of them, holding onto each other through the storm. And for the first time in a long time, Paige didn’t feel quite so afraid.

————-

tags: @thaatdigitaldiary @patscorner 💌

[anchoeritic]

「 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬. 」

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jake sully x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nsfw(18+), minors dni. clit play, overstimulation, fingering, pet names (babygirl, sweetheart, etc.), choking kink, hair pulling.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: teasing jake all day doesn't end in your favour… until it does.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is a short piece, i'm sorry. buuuut i hope you still enjoy. reblogs and feedback are always appreciated, never pressured! and this is also a repost, oops.

was it a typical thing for a man to fall to the feet of a beautiful girl? to beg for a taste of her?

he knew what he was getting himself into, he knew what they outcome would be like, and he still couldn’t resist you.

you knew what you were doing and knew about the effect you had on him.

you always paid close attention to him when it came to little things: like holding your eye contact with him and watching as he smirked to himself.

or watching the way he would cross his legs to cover up the growing bulge between his thighs.

you had done it all on purpose, wanting to get a rise out of him, and you definitely did.

and jake was tired of it, which leads to how he cornered you. yep. against a tree.

“you know what you’re doing to me, don’t you?” he growled, wrapping his hand around your throat tightly.

giggling at him, you looked down at his lips, catching sight of what may be devouring you later.

“maybe i do,” you smiled, “what are you going to do about it, sully?”

the grip around your neck tightened, your face growing warm. you were now choking on your words, unable to speak full sentences, only babbled words and whimpers.

tears welled up in your eyes as they rolled back. a shiver was sent down your spine, feeling your panties dampen at the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your throat.

“you should be scared, sweetheart.”

turning you around, he had your face pressed up against the thick wood.

your hair was far from looking like it always did, his other hand tangled between the many strands, grabbing onto it. saliva had slid from the sides of your mouth, blending in with the tears that had fallen prior.

his hand was firmly gripping on the back of your head, holding you in place.

“are you going to do something about it, babygirl?” he taunted, giving your hair a soft tug.

you shook your head softly, letting out a broken whine in response.

he knew for sure that he had you bottomed out to him at this point. you were under his command from now on and it wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

his other hand slid down from your hair, slipping itself down your pants and cupping your cunt.

breathy moans escaped from your lips as you felt his finger graze over your clit in circular motions.

“c’mon, let me hear you.”

moving your hips, you increased the friction, adding onto the pleasure of his fingers.

“jake,” you cried, grabbing ahold of his arm.

the digits on your clit started to move faster, going in eight figures.

his cock grew as he watched you get off to his fingers, the sight in front of him causing him to lick his lips.

a natural beauty, you were. you were a rare one. the universe had favourites and it really showed, you were definitely one of them.

“i’m cumming,” you cried out.

hearing your pleads, he attacked your neck with kisses, trying to push you over the edge some more. “go ‘head then, baby.”

“cum all over my fingers.”

and you did. you screamed as you felt a wave of euphoria crash over and down on you.

your thighs trembled, ready to collapse under you. you would’ve been on the ground if it wasn’t for jake and the security of his arms.

you felt so dirty, sinful. you just let him touch you: a man you were forbidden to fall for.

you knew it was bad, but it felt too good.

lost in the mix of lust and love, you pulled him down by his neck, your lips connecting once again.

you could never get tired of this feeling.

[system-to-the-madness]

Cherry Blossom Rests 🌸 Inumaki Toge x Reader

Pairing: Inumaki Toge x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: fluff Word Count: 1 223 Warnings: mentions of wounds, blood Summary: After a mission, Toge and you rest under a tree

Sakura Festival Masterlist - Masterlist

“Toge, can you move your arm away? My neck hurts.”

“Okaka.”

“Asshole.”

With a groan you sat up enough to be able to grab Toge’s arm and move it away from where your head had been resting on it. Any other day you would have appreciated him offering his arm up as your headrest, but not today. You were sore all over from the mission you had just returned from. Your body was littered with small cuts, dust stuck to your skin and your sweat drenched clothes, and every muscle in your body felt like it had been robbed of any and all strength.

The mission itself had not really been dangerous, only exhausting. So much even, that you had fallen asleep in the train back home, and as soon as you had made it up the sheer infinite number of steps to the school, Toge and you had collapsed under the closest tree, not even bothering to make it back to your rooms. Here, on the school grounds you were safe from the prying eyes of public, so you had not made the effort to go further, and instead decided to rest here for a moment. Or a few moments. You had been laying underneath the blooming cherry tree for almost an hour now.

Toge protested loudly as you flopped back down, spread out like a starfish, but without the support of his arm this time. You knew he considered it his sacred duty as your boyfriend to always make sure you were as comfortable as possible.

“Toge, my neck hurts, stop it,” you protested as he tried to wriggle his hand back under your neck. “I just want to lay like that for a moment, okay? We can cuddle later.”

At your side, he whined, but pulled his hand away. You sighed quietly, focusing on the way your spine seemed to stretch out on the ground. It felt like a weigh was being removed. Experimentally you turned your head, trying to stretch out the tension in your neck, when suddenly something warm and heavy flopped down on your chest.

If you weren’t so familiar with this exact sensation, you might have been startled, but you knew what had happened, and so you just groaned a little from the way your chest got compressed by the suddenly added weight. Toge had thrown himself on top of you, arms around your waist, head resting on your chest, his bright hair tickling your chin.

“A warning next time,” you grumbled, but brought your hand up to his head anyway, running it though his strands. They were sweat and dirt coated. It had been over an hour since the fight had ended, but his body was still warm underneath his by now chilly clothes.

“Saamon Tsuna,” You should have seen it coming.

“You’re such a spoiled brat,” you sighed, craning your neck to press a kiss to the crown of his head.

Toge turned his head, resting his chin on your sternum and glanced up to you, indigo eyes scanning over your face as if he was uncertain whether you meant it. Of course, you didn’t, and he knew that, but sometimes you couldn’t shake the feeling that he still doubted your feelings for him. Was it really so hard to believe that you loved him? That idiot. But he was your idiot, and if you had to, you’d reassure him of your love for him until he got sick of it… which was a bold statement considering he always insisted he could never get enough of you.

“Okaka”, he pouted. I’m not a spoiled brat. “Takana-zuke.” You are.

“Oi,” you complained. “What did I do?”

Toge just kept pouting, giving you a moment to take in his appearance. You had been too exhausted to give him a proper once over, earlier only having made sure he was not injured too badly. Like yours, his skin was littered in cuts, his uniform dirty and still wet from sweat. At the corner of his mouth, he had missed a droplet of blood, that had by now dried and turned a dark shade of brown against his pale skin. He had used his technique too much, again. Over the past months he had gotten quite good at estimating how long he could use it, and how the impact of different commands shortened that time. But there were still moments where he went over his limits, and you hated it, hated seeing him hurt.

Reaching up, you ran your thumb over the corner of his mouth, trying to brush the dried blood away, but instead Toge turned his head to kiss your thumb.

“Hold still,” you demanded, “you have some blood there.”

Toge just rolled his eyes and pouted, but let you clean the small stain away, before looking at you expectantly.

“Tsuna Mayo,” he requested.

You furrowed your brows. “What do you want me to do?”

He rolled his eyes again, signaling you that he had expected you to understand him, before he pushed up on his hands and shifted himself so he could kiss you on the lips.

Something about Toge’s kisses always took your breath away. Sure, there were the heated kisses you shared in the privacy of your rooms, but even the smaller, almost innocent ones always made you swoon. His lips were soft and warm, his breath fanning over your cheeks in a familiar way as he pulled back after a moment to look down on you underneath him.

“Okome,” he whispered, making you smile. I love you.

“Okome,” you repeated to him, and satisfied you watched as a smile of his own spread over his face.

“Sujiko,” he smirked, lowering himself down again, so he could rest his head on your chest again.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” you complained. “You can’t make fun of me for saying I love you when you were the one who started it!”

���Shake.” Yes, I can.

“You’re awful,” you whined, your hand immediately finding its way back into his hair. “Why am I putting up with you again?”

“Takana-zuke okome.” You love me.

“Yeah, unfortunately.” You picked a cherry blossom petal out of his hair, the colour of the petal almost identical to that of his strands.

“Okome.” And I love you. Toge’s voice had gotten quieter, heavy, and you knew he was about to fall asleep.

“I know,” you whispered, carding your fingers through his soft hair. “And I’m so happy you do.”

Toge only hummed in affirmation, his eyes fluttering shut as he kept his ear pressed to your chest, listening to your breath and heartbeat. Warm sunbeams fell through the branches and blinded you, making you close your eyes too. Rationally you knew you should get up, go back to your room, shower, get patched up and write the mission report. But you really didn’t want to disturb your sleeping boyfriend. Besides, when would you get the next chance to cuddle with him on a spring afternoon under the blooming cherry trees? You sighed, relaxing against the ground. Nobody would mind if you took a little longer with that report. And if they did… their offence, no matter how big, could not compete with the feeling of peace that flooded your body from feeling Toge sleep with his arms wrapped around you.

@delzinrowe

[hvsngi]

ㅤ⠀⠀⠀ ⎯⎯ㅤ 煙⠀⠀░░⠀⠀SMOKE n' CHOKE⠀⠀◌⠀⠀m. lee⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ╰⠀⠀✹⠀cw:⠀nsfw ─ ⠀male reader smoker!mark⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ under the influence smut ( both ) praise⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ pwop soloist!reader dacryphilia btm!reader⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ established relationship⠀⠀⠀✿⠀⠀⠀⠀503 words

⠀⠀✹⠀⠀the thick smokescreen around you and mark could almost shield one's eyes from the sinful acts happening behind it. a guttural moan trickled past your kiss-bruised lips as mark slammed his hips against your ass, hitting the bundle of nerves within you at full force. your vision went white, the beginning of euphoria beginning to burn on your skin. the influence of the drug you'd smoked beforehand was amplifying the feeling by 10 times, something your body simply wasn't made to handle.

"so fuckin' tight," mark breathed, his lips by your ear. you could feel his warm breath wrap around your spine, arching your back up away from his chest. tangible and utter bliss plunged itself deep into your bloodstream as you let out another pathetic whine at how deep he was. "you're so good, y/n. so f—fucking good to me." his words were going to your brain, causing you to fall apart in his arms.

it was like that with mark — the brain-melting dirty talk he exuded. especially now, after you had gone off on tour, leaving him all alone whilst you ventured to different countries. he simply couldn't contain himself, even more so when he had a little weed in his system. he was always happy to indulge in you when he got high and horny. you were like a reward he couldn't resist. he ached for you when you were gone, and when he had you, he had to make sure you only craved him.

your face was buried in the cushions of his sofa, muffled cries absorbed by the cotton below. "mark," you choked out, trying to think of anything except the way he was currently molding you to the shape of him. each thrust made you conform to the curve of his body. "too much. it's too — too much."

mark hummed, slowing down a bit. "can you give me one more, baby?" you had already come twice, and he was asking for another one. god, he'd be the death of you. when you nodded, he wrapped his fingers around your dick, stroking it to the same rhythm as his thrusts. tears filled your eyes at the overstimulated feeling you got from it, but it felt far too amazing to stop.

when he noticed the tears in your eyes, he reached up with his other hand to wipe them away. "aw... my poor baby. so fucked out n' crying. so cute." he punctuated his statement with a harsh thrust, making your body jolt forward with the force. your eyes rolled back as he continued on relentlessly, losing any coherence you might've had left to the hands of your boyfriend.

after a few more thrusts, you came again for the third time, tightening around mark hard as stars blurred your vision and your arms gave out. you felt him spill into you moments later — warm and plenty — with a praise of 'so perfect. my perfect boy.' falling from his lips. pulling out, he collapsed next to you, tugging you into his arms.

"so... when's the next tour?"

you felt your eye twitch. "mm. i love you too, mark." he laughed and buried his face into your throat. "i love you, y/n. so much. my perfect, beautiful boy."

[sircantus]

Techno had been exploring a cave system with Phil when he felt it.

A rumbling vibration traveling through the rock too deep for humans and several types hybrids to sense.

It took Techno a moment to realize what it meant. And when he did…

“Move!” Techno roared. “Back to the surface! Now!”

Phil startled at the unexpected shout, but they’d known each other for too long to hesitate even if the danger was unknown.

Phil sprinted back the way they had come, Techno only a few paces behind him.

Phil held a torch aloft, and Techno a sword. Techno banished the sword to his inventory as he ran, but had no time to do the same for the pickaxe strapped to his belt.

As they ran, the rumbling increased in volume and intensity, there was no way anyone could miss it now.

How far was it to the exit? How deep had they been?

The cave had started to show deep slate, so perhaps sixty blocks below the surface.

That didn’t account for how far they’d travelled in any other direction, though.

They had entered the cave from a deep fissure in the earth, traveling into the cave network from there.

They were near halfway back when Techno heard the rock breaking above their heads. Diving forwards, Techno shoved Phil as far as he could.

A flash of pain in Techno’s abdomen as he hit the ground was quickly buried by the stone that slammed into his back, crushing force pinning him to the floor in a shower of dust and smaller rocks. The impact knocked the breath out of him and Techno wheezed, gasping at the stone dust filled air for breath.

The cave had collapsed, blocking off the direction the pair had just run from completely, catching Techno on the edge of the newly formed barrier.

“Techno?” Phil must have come to check on him while Techno was still regaining his breath. Phil had set his torch down near Techno as he checked his pulse.

“Mate, can you hear me?”

Techno’s response was a wheezing cough.

“Okay, okay, can’t talk?” Phil had grabbed the torch again, and lifted Techno’s chin, holding it close to one of Techno’s eyes, then the other before settling the torch aside.

Next Philza grabbed one of Techno’s hands.

“Can you squeeze my hand?”

Techno squeezed it.

“Squeeze once for yes, twice for no.”

Techno squeezed Phil’s hand again.

“Are you bleeding anywhere? Can you tell?”

Phil must not be able to see most of Techno what with him being covered in stone at the moment.

One squeeze. Yes.

The pickaxe attached to Techno’s belt felt like it had decided to introduce itself to his intestines, so he was most definitely bleeding from it.

“Alright don’t worry mate, we’ll get you out. If I move enough of this we should be able to get you walking.”

Two squeezes. No.

Philza frowned. “Why no? Wait, are your legs hurt?”

Techno- couldn’t actually feel his legs. Or his hips. And he really hoped that wasn’t a spine injury, but it probably was. He wasn’t sure how to tell Phil that, though, so-

Yes. One squeeze.

There was no way Phil would be able to get Techno out of here on his own. Cave-ins like this were dangerous enough on their own, but the first one had been caused by an earthquake, and there could still be aftershocks.

Here with Techno was just about the most dangerous place Phil could be right now. Techno had to convince him to leave.

He gathered his breath.

“Go.”

“What? Techno, no- I can’t leave you!”

Techno tried again.

“Go. H’lp.”

“Oh.” Phil said, looking to study the stone above Techno, “This is definitely a two person job, maybe three. I can ask Niki or Ranboo-“

A pause.

“Promise me you won’t leave me.”

Techno couldn’t suppress a snort of amusement.

Techno couldn’t go anywhere, he was trapped under a literal ton of stone.

But he knew what Phil meant.

“Pr’mse.” Techno managed to get out, knowing it was probably a lie as he said it.

But Techno needed Phil to leave, to be safe.

Techno gave Phil’s hand one last squeeze, and he hoped Phil knew what it meant.

For you, the world.

And then Phil was running towards the cave entrance on his way to get help.

~~~

It was only a few minutes after Phil left that Techno felt the rumbling start again.

The aftershock caused a second collapse, sending rocks falling down on Techno’s shoulders, arms and head. At least one rock must have made its mark against his skull, because Techno’s awareness missed the rest of the rockfall.

When he came back to consciousness, it was with the weight of stone pushing in all around him, pressing him to the floor. It was oddly comfortable. Techno could still feel the pickaxe in his belly, shifting slightly every time he breathed, but now the feeling was only strange, not painful.

Part of him was aware that it probably wasn’t a good sign to be devoid of any pain, but he already knew how things would end when he sent Phil away, so really the lack of pain was a nice bonus.

The torch Phil had left with Techno must have gone out in the second collapse, because Techno couldn’t see anything.

There was nothing for Techno to do except think. Had Phil made it out? He should have had enough time if the rest of the tunnel was unobstructed, and he could probably fly out of the fissure that was the entrance.

Techno really hoped Phil made it out.

It felt like the debris on top of Techno was slowly increasing in weight, or maybe Techno’s strength was failing. Either way, it was getting harder and harder to draw a full breath.

Techno concentrated on that now, on getting from one shallow breath to the next. How much time had passed? He didn’t know. Everything seemed muddled and far away.

“Thank you.” A voice said, cutting through the nothingness that surrounded Techno and filling it. “You kept my husband safe.”

Techno had never heard the voice before, but he knew who it must belong to. Knew even in his soul as surely all things did. Kristin. And if she was here that meant-

Techno hadn’t noticed before, but he now realized that he wasn’t breathing, and he couldn’t feel his heartbeat inside his chest. He didn’t think he had a body anymore, but he could feel Kristin holding him.

“Do you want to watch over my husband with me?”

Techno did. Phil had no sense of self preservation and could use all the help he could get. And Techno had told Phil that he wouldn’t leave him just yet.

“Well then, let’s be off.”

OH MY GOD?? (DEVESTATED) OH MY GOD!! (Delighted)

I adore this. Its painful but i adore it, especially since theres Kristin showing up ten out of ten im absolutely thrilled to have had read this

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 47: The Maestro's Diversion

Prev > Masterlist > Next

September 1925

TW: mind control, body control, captivity, kidnapping

Despite Alexander's attempt at soothing him, Oliver felt himself growing more and more anxious as the ballet continued. As much as he tried to focus on the dance, but now that he knew about the strange man's identity, he couldn't help but sneak glances over at him and fret. 

Objectively, he didn't look that dangerous - a very slight older man with a sharp gaze -- but there was a certain something dreadful about him that Oliver could sense from across the theater. Or perhaps it was just his imagination, borne of the fact that Alexander was still very much on edge.

The ballet itself did not calm his nerves either. The dancing was growing more and more feverish and abstract, the costumes wilder, with bright red beads and ribbons that seemed to signify wounds. The climax was what appeared to be a human sacrifice, where the prima ballerina danced upon an altar, red ribbons tied around her hands and feet and neck, finally collapsing among raucous, atonal music.

Oliver's anxiety was reaching a fever pitch as the ballet came to a close. He clapped politely as the dancers took their bows, glancing over at the strange man.

He was clapping, but he wasn't looking at the stage any more. No, his eyes were trained directly on Oliver. They locked gazes, and Oliver felt a chill run down his spine.

"We will wait until most of the audience has cleared out," said his master. "Then we'll go attend to my master in his box. We may be in luck. He may be in an unusually pleasant mood."

Oliver had no idea how that icy gaze could count to Alexander as "unusually pleasant." "Must we meet him?"

Alexander didn't answer.

"Couldn't we just... leave?"

"No."

Oliver had never imagined he could feel so much dread simply watching men in tuxedos and women in fancy evening dress chatter and mingle as they made their way to the exits. His hands hurt, and he realized that he was gripping the arms of the chair so hard that they were making imprints. Alexander said nothing, stoically staring down at the empty stage. 

Alexander was being so terse, so stiff, so unlike his normal self. But Oliver, of course, had no choice but to follow, no matter how badly he wanted to dig in his heels and not go. He feared that any struggle right now would not be met with Alexander's gentle spell correcting him, but with something far worse.

They made their way around the theater in silence, entering the box and entering the presence of Alexander's sire.

He looked upon Alexander with harsh judgement in his eyes, which Alexander took stoically, and then he looked upon Oliver with...

It was something like approval, perhaps even the ghost of a smile, and it was somehow even worse than his look of disdain.

"Good evening, sire," said his master with a practiced bow. "Was the ballet to your liking?"

"It was passable," the Maestro said, his voice like a musical instrument from another place and time. "While far from perfection, the bold direction was at least more interesting than what usually passes for art in this city. Unusually, I find myself craving the new more and more these days." He was staring at Oliver, not Alexander, as he said this.

"It seems as though you've spent the last few seasons confined to your chambers, sire," said Alexander, with measured words. "That may account for your desire for novelty."

"...A fair observation, child," he said. "Let's speak more of the new and novel, then. This must be your recently acquired thrall, young Oliver, is it not? I've heard that there was quite a stir at the auction house."

"He has very fine blood, sire, as you no doubt can tell. He is naturally docile and obedient, and has great potential."

The Maestro nodded slowly as he looked Oliver up and down. "Come, Oliver. Kneel."

Oliver's breath caught as he felt the tug on his body, puppet strings entangling his arms and legs, as he stepped forward. He remembered his master's words, and had been bracing himself for this, willing himself to relax and stay calm. Oliver would be unharmed, Alexander thought, as long as he behaved. So he didn't resist as his body fell to its knees before the Maestro, his posture straight, his hands clasped in his lap, his head tilted slightly downward, demure.

Alexander's sire took him by the chin and brought his face upwards, his fingers delicate and cold. He examined Oliver as though he were a specimen under glass, searching every inch of him for something that Oliver didn't understand. Oliver could feel the control wrapped around him, as though his very heart was forced to beat in time with the Maestro's whims.

"You've made an appropriate choice for once, Alexander," said the Maestro after what seemed like an eternity. "This is a fine acquisition, and you were quite right to not let him fall into the hands of the likes of Jameson. Well done, child."

Alexander looked every bit as surprised as Oliver felt. "Thank you, sire."

"In fact, I find myself inspired for a new acquisition of my own. As you've correctly observed, existence has become ever so dreary, and I need a new diversion." He leaned back in his seat. "Which is why you're going to pluck the prima ballerina from her perch."

Oliver nearly choked on his breath as Alexander's eyes went even wider. "The ballerina from this show, sire?" he said in a strained tone. "I don't mean to question you, but are you absolutely sure? She's well known and her absence will certainly be noticed."

"Of course. Don't take me for a fool by stating the obvious." His glare was boring a hole into Alexander. "It doesn't matter how well known she is. Once she's in my grasp, she will not be found."

"Yes, sire. My apologies."

"You must fetch her for me. Your power is much gentler than mine, befitting a lovely flower. Bring her here, so that she may dance for me and only me."

Oliver couldn't help his gaze flitting over to his master, who seemed to be struggling to keep his composure. Was he actually going to do it? Simply kidnap the ballerina, on his sire's orders?

"As you wish, sire," he said, meekly. "Oliver, come along."

"No, that won't be necessary," said the Maestro, laying his hand on top of Oliver's head before he could stand up. "I will be content to watch over your thrall while you take care of business."

The hand on his head felt oppressive, and Oliver fought down the urge to beg his master not to leave him here, alone with his sire -- to not steal away a dancer with a bright future and plunge her into a nightmare. But he could already tell from the look on his master's face that he was going to follow his sire's wishes.

"Thank you for watching over him, sire. I will return with your new thrall." 

With that, his master left the box, and Oliver was left alone with his master's sire, whose full focus had turned back to him. The Maestro ran his hand through Oliver's hair, and then tilted his head up to look at him once more.

"Hm, yes, a precious find indeed," he said, more to himself than to Oliver. "You will answer my questions truthfully, child. Do you fear me?"

The correct answer, Oliver thought, was to tell the Maestro that he did not fear him, that he was always happy to serve a vampire. But Alexander had warned him so strictly about being honest... "Yes, sir."

"Good. You're correct to do so," he said, apparently satisfied. "What do you fear from me?"

That question was far more complex, a half million nightmare scenarios crowding Oliver's mind at once. "Many things, sir," he said. "Primarily that I'm aware that you have the power to harm me at any time, in any way you wish. I hope you will be merciful, sir." 

"Merciful, hm." He seemed as though he were considering an idea he'd never heard of before, and Oliver worried he'd overstepped. "Well, you have been honest so far, so I will be honest with you, child. If you continue to be as truthful and obedient as you are now, I will have no reason to do you harm tonight."

"Thank you, sir," said Oliver, not feeling all that reassured. He felt the control over his body loosen, but before he could move, he realized what the meaning of this was when combined with his previous words -- this was a test, an obvious one at that. He steadfastly remained in the position the Maestro had placed him, trying to keep his posture straight.

"Perhaps I'm in a rare good mood from the fine night air and a half-decent ballet, but I find myself enjoying you, child. Do not take this as an invitation to be bold," he said in his musical voice. "Tell me, do you like being enthralled by my Alexander?"

Although his feelings on this were somewhat complicated, the first response that came to mind was both safe and sufficiently honest. "Yes, sir, I like it very much."

"Does he treat you well?" the Maestro intoned.

"Yes, sir," said Oliver with uncertainty, increasingly worried about this line of questioning. "I want for nothing, and the feedings are gentle and pleasant."

"I see. And does he afford you a great deal of freedom?"

So that's where this was leading. He was trying to get Oliver to admit to his master's soft treatment of him, no doubt so his master could be scolded or punished. His instinct was to protect Alexander -- to tell the Maestro that Alexander was very strict and kept him on a tight leash.

But Alexander had been adamant that Oliver must be honest, and he felt sick at the idea of disobeying a direct order from his master. "He offers me some freedoms, but not others, sir."

"Elaborate. What freedoms do you have?"

"I am not allowed to leave his manor, sir, but I am allowed to inhabit any part of it, except for my master's private chambers. When I am not feeding or waiting on my master, I am given free time to do what I wish." His heart thumped. He knew that was the wrong answer. He fought to keep himself in position, and felt the claws of control tightening around him again.

The Maestro's gaze drilled into his soul. "That is disappointing, but wholly unsurprising," he said after a long, tense minute. "Interestingly, that's the first time I've felt any sort of resistance against my control. You're otherwise obeying perfectly. Why choose that moment to struggle?"

"I want to be honest, as you ordered, sir, but I also don't want to say anything that could bring down punishment upon my master."

"Loyalty, then. An instinct to protect your master. Despite his continued shortcomings, he seems to have done a passable job when it came to enthralling you, especially compared to previous thralls," he said. "That's also my sweet Lily's work. I could sense it in you from the moment you opened your mouth. Obedient, loyal, but with too many thoughts in your head, as is her preference. Unfortunate, really." He gave Oliver a long look. "I suppose it can't be helped. For once my wayward children have brought me something worthwhile. You can always be perfected in time."

Oliver's heart filled with dread. "...Thank you, sir," he said, not knowing what else to say to that.

Before the awkward interaction could continue, Oliver heard a gorgeous, ethereal voice coming from outside of the box. He breathed it in deep, and it filled his mind with a sensation like morning fog, dampening the racing thoughts that the Maestro had criticized. The melody was beckoning him, wrapping around his limbs, enticing him to stand and follow.

Alexander. His master had returned. Follow me, follow me, he sang, a vampiric pied piper.

The pull of his song was strong enough that his master's previous command to obey the Maestro and not resist was completely overridden. He would have sleepwalked to Alexander's side in a heartbeat if it weren't for the Maestro's control preventing him, weighing down his body even as his heart yearned, and Oliver felt that he might be torn in two if this continued.

The struggle was ended when Alexander entered the box and bowed to his sire. Behind him was a young woman, thin but athletic, wearing a simple house dress that contrasted sharply with her dramatic stage makeup and the elaborate hairdo that was halfway to falling down. 

It was, of course, the prima ballerina, who had apparently been ensorcelled in her dressing room, just after changing out of her elaborate costume. Her eyes were so far away, so dreamy, as she walked gracefully, a soft smile on her lips.

Oliver's heart sank. He knew from experience how hard it was to escape Alexander's power -- and even worse, she was being given over to the Maestro's thrall. She might never see the stage again, never dance for an audience, never see her family or friends, never laugh and talk with her fellow dancers after a rehearsal. She was to be locked away like a doll in a music box, rotating slowly on command, and she most likely didn't even realize her fate yet.

The Maestro rose from his seat and wordlessly examined her as he had done to Oliver. Alexander was still humming something under his breath, something intended to keep the ballerina calm, and Oliver let the spell soften his thoughts as well, all too eager to dissociate from this scene.

He watched as, with the slightest change in expression and quirk of an eyebrow, the ballerina struck one pose, then another. She was nearly up on her toes despite wearing slippers and not proper shoes, twirling so slowly, and although her face maintained a placid expression, there was fear in her eyes, now.

"Acceptable," the Maestro murmured, as she turned and assumed a different pose. "This will do for a diversion this winter, I think. Well done once more, Alexander."

"Thank you, sire."

"It's been a long time since I've come calling, hasn't it? I do believe I have the evening after next free. I trust I'll be offered quality refreshments?" He gazed at Oliver meaningfully, as the meaning of his words penetrated through the fog.

This strange, distressing vampire wanted to drink from him. Surely his master wouldn't allow that. Surely he was only for Alexander.

"...Very well, sir," said Alexander through gritted teeth. "You're welcome at my manor at any time, of course."

"Excellent. You're dismissed, then. Take your sweet Oliver home, and I'll take my new prize." He picked the ballerina up as effortlessly as he might a kitten, and she lay unmoving in his grasp.

"Good night, sire."

"Good night, child."

Prev > Masterlist > Next

Well, this went well.

Next week, Fitz has a plan.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot @cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme @strawbearydreams @ghost-whump

[64yrsold]

me

“Do you like it?” I smirked, fingers finding the hem of my dress. I twisted the silky fabric until it wrinkled, watching his eyes roll over me.

“What do you think?” He grinned, dragging a thumb over his bottom lip. I blushed, waiting for his greedy eyes to meet mine. They stayed downcast, travelling along the edge of my thigh.

I fixed the thin strap over my shoulder, “Is it too much?”

“What’s too much?” His brows pulled together, a thoughtful crease adorning his forehead.

I sighed, gesturing vaguely.

He shook his head, confused.

“Like,” I groaned, covering my cleavage with my palm. He smirked, shadowing my hand with his. His touch felt new, his warmth brighter, the smell of smoke on his fingertips louder.

“Should I tell you to change?” He kissed my cheek, stilling my breath. “Is that what you want, baby?”

I just laughed quietly, feeling my heart throw itself against my ribs.

“You look pretty,” he murmured, finding a novel spot below my ear to kiss, “You look hot, very hot.” His voice was sultry smoke on my skin. Breathing it in made me feel numb, drunk and euphoric.

“Mhm,” I whispered, the sound catching in my throat and slipping into a moan.

“Should we stay home?” He smiled, letting his hand drag to the small of my back. He followed my spine, pressing my body to his. “I’d rather stay home.”

“I wanted to make you wait,” I settled my hands on his chest, pulling off his tie, “Watch you squirm through dinner.”

He gasped, “You’d do that to me?” He hummed, nosing my jawbone. He tutted against my neck.

“Maybe,” I squeaked, my confidence evaporating against his lips.

“You wouldn’t,” he murmured, biting sweetly at my jaw. “You’re less patient than me, darling.”

“That’s—“ I sighed as he pressed his lips to my neck, struggling to swallow with my heart in my throat. “That’s a lie.”

“Really?” He pulled away, grinning down at me. My heart ached at the curls collapsing down his forehead, which now brushed against his eyebrows. Maybe half an inch longer since the last time I’d seen him.

“I’m an expert at waiting,” I mumbled, feeling a bit too earnest. He picked up on the thickness of my voice, splaying his hand against the middle of my back and hooking his chin over my shoulder. He held me tightly, and I swayed with each wash of his breath. “I’m alright.”

“Sure,” he whispered, fingertips tracing the outlines of my shoulder blades.

“I just missed you,” I said, voice muffled with my face buried against his chest. “And I don’t want to go out.”

“Perfect,” he laughed, squeezing his arms around me before pulling back. “Because I have a surprise for you.”

“Do you?” I smiled, watching his eyes come alight at my excitement. He nodded, pursing his lips to hide a grin. I imagined I could wait a thousand winters to see the sun against that smile.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed, and threw me over his shoulder, his hand gripping my thigh. I shrieked as he carried me to the bedroom, keeping my eyes squeezed shut. “I’m putting you down, darling, don’t fall.”

My feet hit the hardwood floor, and I giggled stupidly as he steadied me.

“One second,” he shouted as I listened to his frantic footsteps. I was tempted to peek as I heard the sound of his lighter, but stayed still, my arms crossed in front of me. “Okay, open them.”

I opened my eyes to find our bedroom aglow, candles lining the room. I blinked, finding him outstretched on the bed, surrounded by rose petals. I covered my face with my hands, shaking as I muffled my laughter.

“You don’t like it?” He laughed, both of us spiralling into fits, spurred on by the other’s giggles.

“I love it, love it,” I gasped between laughs, “So, so, sexy.”

He hopped off the bed, wrapping his arms around my waist, “Just trying to remind you of all the good times we’ve had in here.”

“Oh, I didn’t forget,” I grinned, smothering my smile with my palm.

“Come on, baby. Take that dress off.”

“All it takes is a couple rose petals, you think?” I tilted my head to the side, watching him nod enthusiastically. He caught my wrist, sitting on the edge of the bed. He pulled me onto his lap, letting me push him flat against the sheets.

“Rose petals and me,” he tugged on the strap of my dress, “The thought of me inside you.”

Heat crawled up my neck, “Bold of you.”

“I just wanted to see you blush,” his face softened, “Beautiful, every inch of you. Let me see you, please.”

I rolled my eyes, blowing out the candles beside the bed. I reached for the zipper of my dress as he frowned.

“Not fair, baby. It’s too dark now,” he pouted, grabbing my hips.

“Too bad,” I shrugged, and unzipped the dress, pulling it over my head, “Should I put it back on?”

He grinned, flipping us over. His hand pressed into the mattress beside my head, and I dotted his wrist with kisses.

“No, thank you,” he whispered, pressing our lips together and finally bringing me home.

//

[egotisticaleverything]

madpat smut fic plssss (just go wild atp)

Great To Be A Liar

WARNINGS: Violence, descriptions of dead bodies, mental manipulation, gaslighting, kinda/not rlly dub-con, P in V, unprotected sex, praise kink, degrading kink, oral sex (f receives), Heathers references, sex next to a dead body, in the words of an AO3 author DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

A/N: I was so glad to get this because oml I need to make more egos content lmaooo hope you enjoy.

Word count: 1.5k

"You’ve ever taken German?" Your boyfriend perked up, still holding the gun, loose in his hand as he waved it around almost carelessly.

"No, French." You responded quickly, shooting your attention in his direction, worried by his sloppy grip on the firearm.

"Okay well, these are Ich Lüge bullets," He continued, "My grandfather snagged a shitload of em' back in WW-Two." He carried on as you listened intently, "They're like tranquilisers. Except they break the surface if the skin, enough to cause a little blood but no real damage."

"So it looks like the person's been shot and killed, but really they're just lying there unconscious and bleeding?" You ask, assuming the rest from his explanation.

"Right." He confirms, sitting back down on your bed, "See, we shoot Nate and Mark, make it look like they shot each other and by the time they regain consciousness, they'll be the laughingstock of the whole town."

"Are you sure about this?" You ask one last time, running a hand through your hair still slightly shaky.

"I've never been so sure."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You stood there shaking, unsure of how to proceed. You were stood over the body of your former colleague as blood pooled out from the wound on his neck, the shot you took wasn't pretty, It was a violent one. It was point-blank. In addition to the bullet itself causing damage, the exhaust gases trailed behind and caused additional harm. It looked like something out of a horror film, but no. No this was real. You did this. Not just you but-

"Sweetheart!" Your boyfriend called out in a sing-song voice, "I caught the runner." He smiled, dragging Mark by the collar of his uniform and practically tossing him onto the tiles.

Another wave of shock washed over you as the second man's body collapsed.

"You lied." You finally spoke, voice hoarse and weak, pathetic.

"Pardon my dear?" He asked in the same chipper tone, unsettlingly happy.

"You lied!" You practically screamed, bolting towards him and punching him in his chest. It was a fruitless effort, yet you continued punching him, repeating those two words like a prayer as if it would undo what you've done. After about a minute your punches fell weaker and your knees buckled as you collapsed into him with a soft sob. "You lied..." A final shaky whimper left your lips as his arms curled around your waist, settling with a loose grip.

"You only believed me because you wanted to Darling." He looks down at your weaker stature, "You've wanted them gone for months, you knew I was lying. You lied to yourself, even if you didn't know." his usual psychotic smirk returned to his face as you looked up, finally looking him in the eyes.

"I- No, I didn't." You retorted as you attempted to shove him off you as his grip on you tightened.

"You don't have to lie, Dear, it's me." He smiled, bringing up one of his hands to stroke your hair, "I know you, you know me." his tone made a shiver run down your spine as he continued, "You don't need to hide yourself from me."

The more he spoke the more unsure you felt, did you want this? You weren't quite sure anymore, the more words he fed you the more you believed you wanted it. The more you believed he was right. Just like he wanted, almost as much as you secretly deep down wanted them dead. Even if you never knew it until he told you, you did. you always did. As his words lulled you back into a sense of twisted security he continued to stroke your hair, loosening his grip on your waist again he stepped back slightly.

“See? Everything is alright,” He moved his hand from your hair to place it under your chin, tilting your head to look up at him as he spoke, “That’s it… Good girl.” He coaxed, rubbing his thumb along your jaw, spreading the still warm blood that covered his gloves as he leaned down and pulled you in, kissing you softly.

A weak moan escaped your lips as he moved his hand from your waist to cup your ass, placing you up on the desk as his kisses grew more frantic and hungry. Your arms reached up and wrapped around the back of his neck as he slowly made his way down, your jawline to your collar and eventually just above your shirts neckline.

“May I?” He asked, as if it was even a question at this point. He had you wrapped around his finger like the pathetic shell of a woman you were.

You frantically nodded, causing him to practically tear open your shirts buttons, leaving small bites and kisses as he went. The cooling sensation of his saliva trailing down your abdomen sent shivers through your entire body, every hair felt as if it was standing on edge. He soon found himself kneeling between your legs as they dangled off the edge of the table, he looked up once more for approval causing you to instantly undo your pants for him, granting him access.

“You’re eager aren’t you?” He teased, pulling down your pants tantalisingly slow. You impatiently whined as he did so, before being met with his hot breath against your wet pussy as he looked up at you. “So wet for me eh? Or did all that murder turn you on?” That smug look still displayed before he suddenly buried his face in your cunt not dating to give you time to think about what he said. He mercilessly lapped at your pussy, nose bumping into your clit as he did. The mixture of sensations sending waves of pleasure through your body, the low vibrations of his groans added an extra layer of energy causing you to let out an ear ripping moan. You buried your hands in his hair, pushing his head deeper between your wetness as you gridded up against him. No coherent sentences were anywhere near being formed in that brain of yours, you were practically short-circuiting as he ravaged you. Soon a tightness in your core began to build and you felt your movements gaining franticness as you approached your climax. Your thighs wrapped around your boyfriend’s head, so hard you were surprised he didn’t burst. A wave of bliss washed over you as you reached your high, cum drenching his face as you rode it out. The only thing leaving your mouth was an unintelligible string of curses and blubbering as Mad finally detached himself from you, face drenched and chest heaving.

He stood up and slowly undid his belt, “We aren’t even close to finishing.” He breathed, still slightly puffed out. His pants soon hit the floor accompanied by the metal clash of his belt, as he stepped back between your legs he loomed over you. Slowly he pulled down his boxers letting his cock free, leaking pre-cum like a faucet as it lay flush against your thigh. “Ready?” He asked one last time, a hand travelling to your hip as he spoke.

“Yesyes-Fuck yes.” You sputtered as he lined himself up before slamming into you without warning. The sudden sensation and fullness sent a shockwave of sensations through your body as he began to thrust causing you to release a loud high pitched scream from the mix of pain and pleasure.

“C’mon Doll, you can take it.” He mutters to you, pushing you back down on the table, “Atta girl, fuck you’re tight…” he continues to thrust, unapologetically hard and fast, absolutely destroying your g-spot as his sweat covered upper body wains over you like a giant, one hand on your waist and one holding him up on the table as he fucks into you. “God you’re such a slut eh’?” He teases sensually, “Letting me fuck you next to two dead bodies. Sick fuck.” He’s degradation causes you to let out another ear-ripping moan. He was right. You’re so dirty, letting a man who tricked you into killing your colleagues fuck you next to their dead bodies? How much of a slut were you?

Soon you felt the same sensation as before, you were coming close to your climax. And by the now franticness of Mad’s thrusts, he was too. As his thrusts grew more sporadic the knot in your stomach tightened before your back arched up, letting out a high pitched groan as you hit your second orgasm. Soon your boyfriends thrusts sped up even more, as he worked you through your orgasm the sudden tightness of your pussy caused his to crash through him, letting out a low groan as he slumped over on top of you.

The room fell silent, the only noise heard was heavy breathing. Soon enough Mad pulled out, quickly tucking himself away with a simple, “we’ve got to go.”

[girlwtdragontattoo]

Halsin x TAV Fanfiction "Until we meet again, my heart"

DISCLAIMER: SPOILERS FOR BALDUR'S GATE 3 ENDING. My TAV is a tiefling, so I wrote it with that in mind. You can substitute whatever race your TAV is, if you'd like :)

If you want me to continue, please let me know! I wrote this, because I am truly a sucker for everything Halsin and I wish for soooo much more in the Romance Ending, although I am really happy with the Canon ending of it. I hope you enjoy!

_________________________________________________________

Halsin cupped TAV’s face with his hands and initiated a long, deep kiss. They leaned into him, wrapping their arms around his broad back as much as they could and enjoying the overwhelming surge of belonging, relief, love and peace. The Absolute was finally defeated and Baldur’s Gate could finally return to its former self. The wind blew gently around them, as the city lay before them, engulfed in golden light.

Slowly, the druid released his lips from theirs and stared into the starry eyes of his lover. TAV smiled and noticed that his took a bit longer to form than usual.

“Is something wrong?” they asked carefully.

“No, my heart. Nothing is wrong.” His hands dropped from their face, but he still stood ever so close to them. “But I feel a greater purpose coming out of the shadows. One that I cannot ignore, as much as I’d like to.” His eyes were confusing. On the one hand, the tiefling felt the radiating love they always emitted. On the other, there was a spark suddenly appearing and they agreed, it was hard to overlook.

“What do you mean?”

Halsin sighed briefly, and gently rubbed TAV’s cheek. “We have defeated the Absolute. And I am overjoyed at our victory. But there are so many displaced citizens, refugees, orphans... animals that need my help. Nature needs to heal and it is my calling to help it do so.” There was a slight pause, as he blinked slowly. “I cannot stay with you here, if I am to fulfill my duty.”

A sting. TAV felt their stomach collapse within itself, heat engulfing their spine and neck. They felt as though their body would erupt. But all they showed on their face was a slight consternation that swiftly turned to understanding. They smiled, as much as they could, mirroring the forced one the druid was displaying: “I see. It pains me so much to see you go, but…”, they took hold of his hand on their cheek, kissed it gently and held in their own, “I understand.”

Halsin sighed once more, this time deeply and TAV couldn’t tell if it was out of relief or sadness. He pulled them into an intense hug, one where his arms shook slightly from the pressure. TAV reciprocated and held onto their bear as if their life depended on it. There was no telling when they would cross paths again, so this moment needed to last. TAV felt the druid’s breath in their ear: “My heart, I adore you. This isn’t goodbye. We will see each other again, I promise. But this is something I have to do.” TAV sunk into the embrace even more: “I will miss you dreadfully, until then.”

The embrace lasted eons to TAV, but even that wasn’t enough time. Halsin released his grip, looked into their eyes again and gave them another, long, passionate and gripping caress. Finally, after smiling gently down at TAV for a while, he stepped away, turned to leave and said with his head still turned towards his lover: “Until we meet again, my heart.”

The druid walked away.

TAV stood at the same spot and watched Halsin walk with purpose, once again. They couldn’t help it. The sting, the heat, the overflowing cataclysm of sorrow overwhelmed them and as much as they tried, they couldn’t stop the tears from streaming. Turning to the lake, having the setting sun warm their face, TAV crumpled down on the landing stage and sat there ever so still, letting the tears run down silently.

Not much time passed and TAV’s three closest friends started to gather around them on the landing. Karlach sat down behind TAV and pulled them into a bear hug, her legs dangling with theirs. Shadowheart joined on TAV’s left side, sitting down gracefully and looking into TAV’s tear-stained face. Lae’Zel finally completed the foursome, plopping down on TAV’s right, staring intently into the setting sun.

Karlach tightened her hug and said: “Don’t be sad, soldier. We’re here for you.”

Shadowheart continued to look at TAV, analyzing the state they were in carefully, and choosing her next words with extreme care: “Love can be a wonderous thing. But terrible at the same time.”

TAV nodded, closing their eyes and letting another tear run down. Shadowheart rested her head on TAV’s shoulder, unsure on how else to comfort.

Lae’Zel didn’t say anything, but placed her hand on TAV’s, continuously looking at the horizon.

Finally, Karlach spoke once more: “You really love him, don’t you?”

Those words intensified the heat even more around TAV’s throat. Barely able to control the water leaking out of every orifice, TAV finally nodded intensely and let out a painstaking "Yes". All three companions edged closer to them, offering only their company as solace.

They sat together on the docks for what felt like ages. Being together, having survived the most intense and horrifying battle any of them ever have and probably will in their lives, was a gift they all appreciated greatly. TAV had convinced Lae’Zel to stay with them, which meant they would need to outwit the githyanki, who will surely come after her at every turn. TAV even convinced Karlach to go back to Avernus, promising fiercely to visit as often as possible, letting Karlach come back into Baldur’s Gate occasionally, and most importantly, letting her live. Shadowheart would accompany TAV and Lae’Zel, seeing the little camp of theirs as a new family and one she truly belonged to. Their company would ease some of the pain TAV felt, but it would never fill the hole that Halsin left. They travelled through Faerun together, making camp or allowing themselves a nice stay in a city once in a while, frequently returning to Baldur’s Gate, to see Astarion, Gale, Jaheira or Wyll, but mostly so that TAV could see if Halsin wrote.

It took some time. Too long. To the point where TAV convinced themselves that the druid had forgotten about them. The companions were walking the streets of Baldur’s Gate, Lae’Zel disguised as a halfling by Shadowheart, when a duck fluttered in front of TAV’s face. Surprised, TAV stared at the flapping poultry in front of them and finally noticed a small, rolled up piece of paper stuck to the bird’s leg. Hastily, TAV untangled the note from the animal’s leg. As its duty had been fulfilled, it plopped down on the ground and greedily pecked at the cobble stone for nuggets of food. They unraveled the note and read quickly:

TAV, my heart,

I hope Collin finds you swiftly in Baldur’s Gate.

TAV looked down at the duck vehemently pecking around their shoes. This is “Collin”, supposedly. They continued to read, with a beeming smile on their face.

There have been so many amazing things, that have happened along my journey. I have found a lovely group of helpers, some former refugees, who have assisted me in building homes, repairing the land and adopting children. Most importantly, through my travels, I got to see Thaniel and Oliver again. The former shadow-cursed lands are truly a sight to see. And I want to show you what you have changed here.

If this note finds you, meet me at the Last Light Inn on the day of the full moon.

I have much to tell you and we have much to catch up on.

I miss your eyes, lover.

Until we meet, my heart.

Yours,

Halsin

[justcallmeskylar]

I haven't been into mid since 2020 but its always been in the back of mimd so these are just a few of my headcanons (and when Im calling the group itself, with Ava included, im calling it nook, cause appreantly that's the word for a groups of imps (yes im considering the deamons?, demons? as imps cause imps will have a little place in my spine)

-leif is very fond of children or anyone he considers a child. Like when he said that it was brothers taking care of brothers i felt that he really cares for his old family and honestly i think it would be sweet if he was extremely doting towards those younger then him

-Pierce is so autism

-We love our adhd rhys here. Like i just imagined him constantly shaking his leg and all and asch just putting his hand on rhys' thigh to stop him (Lil rhys/asch shipper here)

-I feel like calling them demons is a little bit on the nose considering (from my personal opinion) that demons at least are from hell or some really disliked place. And we saw that the 'demons' actually came from another planet. If anyone thinks they have a better name for them plz do say

-speaking of their planet:

it has an atmosphere

it has gravity

and its likely a miniscule smaller then earth

Which would explain all of them sudden collapsing but being able to adapt to the planet's gravity as their owns planet's gravity is likely weaker then earths

and also fucking hate the air pollution cause they were coughing as soon as they stepped to earth.

-outside of the nook, the deamons hates physical touch or are greatly uncomfortable by it. However when its eachother then its rather comforting and familiar

-they did my boy Noi dirty geez. He deserves a formal apology from his nook

-Ava's bed is so damn big im sure they all cuddle together there

-when the deamons first came to earth, they kinda had to borrow atleast a few clothes from ava. After that Ava had to go out and buy a bunch of new clothes, but every now and then they will choose to wear her clothes, wether for comfort or just to be a piece of shit

-they wear eachothers clothes too, although pierce has limited option since he's the physically biggest in the group

-Pierce is massive cuddler, like if you have the misfortune of being within his grasp, its very hard to escape depending on who you are.

-we also being a multishiper here because asch has two hands and rhys has two and i think they should hold hands with pierce.

-leif has c-ptsd from the time his old family exiled him to asch sparing him and will have continues nightmare about which is why de doesn't exactly like to sleep

-pierce can sleep anywhere anytime as long as he has his nook around.

-Rhys is also an insomniack and stays up reading books that ava got for him at the library and ends up often having really deep late night conversations with leif (shhhhhhhhhh their bonding)

-Rhys is more chemistry/science/magic smart while Asch is actually the one who's more laguange smart since I feel that as he's the prince and likely to be the next king he was constantly interacting and having to speak different dialects from people of other nations

That's all the energy I have I'm kinda sleepy

[yuribeam]

my family’s disabled. EDS and tethered cord confirmed in some but everyone has roughly the same progression of symptoms. my mom and sibling have already had tethered cord release surgery and we’re in the process of looking at my spine.

im in the process of figuring out what’s normal and what’s not, how to identify sensations, how to take care of myself, how to cope with a body that works less and less. i am also autistic, so for me, that means identifying specific feelings and sensations can be difficult

so earlier today i was woken up from a nap by my mom telling me she’s leaving for dinner with my stepdad. im always down for pad thai so i get myself up, together, and out the door in about five minutes. which is not really enough time to assess how my body is feeling, which is difficult for me anyway.

before dinner im already feeling a little lightheaded and clammy and i figure i just need to eat, which i do, and it is in fact worse. i excuse myself for the restroom, thinking it’s because my stomach’s been weird, don’t feel better. silently rushing my mom to wrap up chatting with my family bc i feel like i need to be home. make it home, curl up on the recliner, feel some sharp pains along my spine, watch a little star trek, eat some leftovers, yknow 

then my mom comes into my room before bed and says that she recognized how i was feeling at dinner. cold but feeling overheated, clammy, pale, almost a bit dizzy, hungry but not hungry, needing to put my head in my hands and shift around, uncomfortable but unable to pinpoint what's wrong. she says, i've felt like that a lot too, for decades, and i always think did i eat enough protein did i drink enough did i do something wrong to trigger something i can’t recognize, and actually?

i think it’s just pain. 

which is currently kind of blowing my mind a bit to realize, that although i know people with chronic pain will not recognize their pain the same as able bodied people

i am more likely to feel the side effects of pain than the pain itself 

put another way, i am experiencing my body reacting to pain whether or not i feel more or less than usual of what i think of as pain (sharp, shooting, twinge, spasm, pointy ache..).

I thought of general pain or the constant background pain as just a low ache that maybe comes with some stiffness and soreness, but I am feeling it through other senses and manifestations as well

so im really rethinking about how to recognize and predict and categorize and classify pain. it made me think of the emotions wheel, which you probably recognize a version of if you’ve had therapy 

and i think something like this with words for physical sensations like restless, queasy, tight, collapsible, unsteady, foggy, tensed, and probably better words i’m not thinking of, would be a helpful start to identify how to communicate what is going on with my body 

is this relatable to anyone? how do you recognize and communicate feelings in your body that you’ve gotten used to but are not medically “normal”? what words would you put on the sensation wheel? 

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Lesson

Day 13.

Doe felt him before she saw him. The prickle of heat on her skin signalled his coming, the beat of his wings almost sending her to the floor, the whoosh of air was so strong. She ducked her head, trying to hide- pointless really. He always knew where she was.

'Oh, little mouse,' he said indulgently, tipping her head up with gentle fingers. 'You are such a delicious mess. Let's make this a night you'll never forget, hmm?' He tilted his head and grinned sharply at her, lifting her easily in one hand by the scruff of her neck. 'Such a sweet thing,' he purred, running his tongue from jaw to earlobe. 'Hmm. I'll never tire of your taste, my little warlock. Whether you like it or not, we are bound together. You are mine, until the stars collapse, until magic itself dies. I am within you. I am in your blood, mouse. Your words. Your thoughts. And you like me being there, I can tell. Your little thrill up your spine, your open, inviting mouth... I really should teach you a lesson. It would be...' he paused, examining her. 'Satisfying.' He takes a moment to ponder, her feet dangling several feet off the ground. 'And instructive for you. Don't say I don't do anything for you, mouse.'

With that he dropped her, flipping her onto her belly and thrusting viciously inside her, the palm of his clawed hand holding her head to the wall, his other hand digging into her waist. He fucked at a punishing pace, drawing screams from her even as she was crushed into the wall by his weight.

'Sweet little whore,' he crooned softly, fucking into her with his full strength. She screamed, unable to do anything but take what he gave her, biting down on her lip as he engulfed her entirely. 'You're mine. Mine.'

He squeezed her windpipe in one huge hand, growling in satisfaction as she went limp in his embrace. She allowed herself to become heavy in his grip, was shocked when he simply moved her like a doll.

''Fuck,' he growled into her neck. 'You delicious thing, you feel so good...' he fucked into her harder, drawing screams from her throat. 'You'll never be satisfied by another man again,' he growled into her ear. 'I promise I'm the best you'll ever have, and you'll beg me for more. Now you must beg sweetly, mouse. Remember your 'please' and say it like you mean it. Let me have you. Let me own you. Your body is mine, sweet little slut. Mine alone. Lie there and take it like a good girl. and beg, beg, beg me for more of my cock. Look at you. you wanton creature, with your mouth open like that. Come here.' He pulled out of her, turned her body, shoved her to her knees and thrust into her mouth. 'Look at you. So beautiful choking on my cock. My little needy slut.' He growled, filling her mouth with his cock, laughing darkly as she retched, , holding her in place. 'Be a good girl,' he purred. 'Take it like you were made to.' He thrust hard, holding her head to the base of his cock with near savage pleasure, watching her eyes roll back into her head.

'Oh, Doe,' he snarled. 'You sweet, pliant, obedient thing...' He drove into her mouth, held her to him as he came down her throat. 'Fuck,' he said softly. 'Look at you. Swallowing like you were made for it... we'll go again, you sweet little doll. You're mine.... all mine...'

And he proved it to be true. He laid claim to her in every way he knew how, revelling in her screams and whimpers and the way her eyes rolled back into her head as she was fucked stupid by the devil she knew... she'd wake up and regret this, but for right now this was exactly where she wanted to be, under his hands and mouth and cock. She cried out as she came, sobbed as he fucked her through it.

'Good girl,' he said, the slight undercurrent of threat darkening his words. 'You'll always be mine, won't you?'

Tags:

@bluerosetarot @dansnotavampire @further-than-forever

@forget-me-maybe @poetryvampire @sasha199 @wandawillow

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana @amorgansgal

@aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard

@crimson-and-lavender @reeseykins @medra-gonbites

@roguishcat @weaverofnetheril @galedekarioswifey @hyperfixationstation128 @lastlight-inn

@astarryvamp @feedthepheasants @dabigstinky @dreamingofthewild @ladyofcrowsandcoffee

@femmefuck @spooky-lil-bee

[theonlyonesora]

Bound by Obligation - Chapter 2: Beneath Fractured Souls

CH01 - CH03

The month passed without incident, as if the very air around them was holding its breath. The arrangement Suguru had made with Kira was almost too good to be true. Until that night.

The quiet had settled over the house like a comforting blanket, softening the corners of everything. Outside, a mist gathered under a dim half-moon, making even the smallest shadows stretch long and lean. Inside, the darkness wrapped itself around each room, leaving just the soft hum of an old clock ticking somewhere nearby. Everyone was surely asleep—everyone except him.

Suguru lay restless in bed, eyes half-lidded against the ceiling, thoughts a vague whisper of unanswered questions. His mind refused the lull of sleep, attuned to something…he wasn’t sure what, but he felt it all the same. Then came the sound. The sharp, guttural cough echoed through the house, slicing through the silence like an alarm. He sat up with a start, every sense suddenly on high alert.

Sighing, Suguru rose from his bed and made his way down the narrow hallway toward the kitchen, each step somehow noiseless yet charged with purpose. The closer he got, the worse the coughing became, deep and splintered by pain. A chill crawled up his spine as he peered around the corner and saw her.

Kira was collapsed on the floor, her shoulders hunched and her face ghostly pale in the faint light, one hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Blood stained her fingers, and droplets of it had begun to speckle the floor around her.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he demanded, his tone rougher than he intended but barely disguising the concern threading through it.

Kira shook her head, her eyes wide with an emotion he couldn’t quite read—fear, or maybe disbelief. For a moment, her gaze flicked toward him before drifting down, as though she were fighting to keep something hidden. He exhaled sharply, feeling his patience wane as he took a step closer, noting the tremor in her body. “Don’t ignore me. Answer the question.”

Kira barely managed to whisper, “I don’t know what’s happening.” Her voice was hoarse, each word scratching painfully through her throat.

Suguru clenched his jaw, his frustration mounting as he knelt beside her, inspecting her trembling hands. “You don’t know?” he repeated, his voice laced with an irritated sarcasm. “You’re coughing up blood, and you’re saying you have no clue why?”

But then he noticed her eyes—brimming with tears, threatening to spill over as she struggled for air. It was strange seeing her like this; Kira wasn’t the type to cry, at least not in front of him. For a moment, he was struck by the sheer vulnerability she displayed, almost enough to soften him. Almost.

“Why are you crying?” His voice lowered, his grip loosening slightly on her chin.

“Because it hurts,” she finally said, and her words felt raw, stripped of any shield.

“Duh, I can see that. But that doesn’t answer why you’re coughing up blood.” His frustration bubbled over again, twisting his tone with irritation. As she shook her head, he could feel something deeper shift within him, unsettling him.

“My back,” she managed to gasp, “it hurts too. And I can’t breathe without feeling…something.”

“Something?” he echoed, confusion pulling at his features. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was starting to feel a pang of something else—fear, or maybe empathy. Something he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with.

Her hand drifted toward her back as if she could pull something out of her skin. Alarmed, he grabbed her arm, stopping her. “Hey, stop that. You’re only making it worse.”

Her voice was a thin thread, barely audible, “It’s on my skin.”

His brow creased, a cold suspicion creeping over him. “Under your skin? What the hell do you mean?”

“I can feel it…” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.

He could sense the rawness in her insistence, like she was trying to explain something inexplicable, and it made him shiver. Something terrible was at play here, something he couldn’t yet understand. He leaned closer, studying the purple bruise that spread across her skin, and then he saw it—a curse, embedded beneath the surface, as though it was seeping into her flesh.

For once, he felt his steady facade slip. His heart hammered against his ribs. He had never seen anything quite like this.

His voice softened, barely audible over the frantic beat of his pulse. “Kira, I know it hurts. Just…try to hold on. I’ll help you, okay?”

The briefest glimmer of relief washed over her eyes, and she nodded, mutely agreeing to his request, a quiet surrender in her submission that only served to deepen his resolve.

Suguru braced himself as he positioned his hands over the mark, casting her a final glance. “This might hurt. Just stay still.” His fingers hovered over the curse, feeling its malignant energy pulse against his own. It took everything in him to keep his hand steady, not to flinch as he worked to pull it free. As his fingers dug slightly, he felt her hand clamp onto his leg, squeezing hard enough to bruise. But he didn’t flinch.

She whispered an apology between gasps of pain, and for a brief moment, he almost smiled, despite the grim situation. “Just relax, okay?” he said, his voice rougher than he intended but laced with reassurance. “You’re crushing my leg here.”

He felt her grip loosen just enough to continue. With a careful, focused pull, he finally managed to detach the curse from her skin, watching it disintegrate the moment it left her body. Relief washed over him, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“It’s off,” he said, the words filling the stillness that followed. “You’re safe now.”

She looked at him, eyes still glassy with unshed tears, and murmured, “Thank you.”

For a long moment, they simply sat there, the silence around them no longer heavy with fear, but something gentler. There, in the quiet aftermath, Suguru felt something shift between them—an understanding, a fragile connection forged by that night’s trials.

.