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

[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 💌

[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

[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."

[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.

//

[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

[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? 

[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.”

[hold-on-a-little-longer-whump]

Quick!! Link a scene or piece of work you're created that you're proud of! First one that comes to mind!!

*bounces in place* ohohohohoho you've gone and done it now!!! Feast your eyes on this scene from one of my many WIPs - I hope I'll finish it one day. It really is one of the Big Three of my Magnum Opuses.

Below the cut:

Female whumpee

Mute whumpee

Disabled whumpee

Female Caretaker

Recovery

Mentions of Scientific/Medical Trauma

Bruises and bandages

Collapsing

Fatigue/Weakness

Samira slept for another day. Until the pangs of hunger and other necessities grew to be too much to ignore. She drew in a slow breath and sighed, then lifted her arms in a stretch. The skin of her elbows pulled uncomfortably and she stopped at the telltale sensation of scabs beginning to split. Even now, days later, she felt the bone-deep ache from her journey here. The dull throb of a lingering headache. The pulsing pain in her knees. Her hands still held a tremor without the slightest provocation. More than anything, she wanted to go back to sleep until the soreness went away, but nature had other ideas.

Turning her head, she saw she was alone. The lights to the room were dimmed low, and the only other source of light came from the glow of a safety light in the bathroom five feet away. Blessedly, she saw the IV pole was on the same side of the bed. All she had to do now was walk. Piece of cake. Pulling the blanket back, she slung her legs over the side of the bed. She stopped long enough to wonder at the sight she saw.

Socks. Soft, fuzzy yellow socks with grips on the bottoms. She turned her attention to her gown. It, too, was buttercup yellow, decorated with bumble bees and daisies, and the hem - stopping at her knees - even had the tiniest decoration of white lace. She longed to rub the material between her fingers, but the bandaging on her hands prevented her from doing so. It would have to wait. Besides, the thick wads of cotton taped over each knee ruined the effect. Her skin, she noticed, was far paler than its healthy cinnamon color, and even the patches of vitiligo, normally rosy, held a sickly shade. She frowned, feeling like the ghost of her former self.

Gripping the IV pole for balance, Samira scooted forward. Tentatively, she settled her feet on the floor. No fear driving her to move. No dizziness. It didn’t matter how many times she had tried to stand on her way here. She was stronger now. She was rested. She could do this. Carefully, as if to balance on an egg without breaking it, she put weight on one foot. Her knee began to quake and she grabbed the IV pole with her other hand, clinging to it, and the momentum of doing so forced her full weight forward. Quickly, she brought her other foot forth to catch herself.

For the briefest of seconds, she teetered, awkwardly poised between the IV pole and her fawn-like legs. She could feel the cuts in her palms reopening as she clung to the pole, the gauze slackening her grip. Then the wheels of the IV pole rolled. Samira flailed, gasping as her crutch moved before she was ready, and tried to snatch it back. It fell, and she followed, knocking a metal tray and its contents to the floor with a great crash.

She might have cringed at the noise if she hadn’t instinctively tried to catch herself. Though the gauze cushioned the fall somewhat, it didn’t stop her knees and elbows from cracking against the hard tile - biting through the cotton and clawing at her already-shredded skin. Tears sprung up and a mute yelp rattled her throat before she could stop herself. She bit her lip until she tasted blood, and still a hoarse sob wrenched itself from her chest.

Hurried footsteps sent a dart of panic up her spine, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The lights switched on, then a set of hands were on her. She flinched, but they didn’t release her.

“Samira.” Jean. Jean was there. “Samira, it’s alright. It’s just me.”

Without waiting for a response, Jean lifted her back to the bed as easily as a child might lift a dropped doll. Samira tucked her hands beneath her chin, arms pressed against her chest, and tried to control her breathing - all while fighting the urge to curl in a ball right there. Hot, thrumming pain rolled up her limbs, coiling into tight knots and biting, clawing, digging into her bones. Why did it hurt so much? How could things go wrong so quickly? She opened her eyes from where she’d squeezed them shut, peering between wet lashes at the mess she’d made. Fresh, unused medical supplies lay strewn about on the floor. The IV pole lay on its side, and the tray had skidded a couple feet away. She drew in a shaky breath, shame heating her cheeks.

Automatically, an apology tried to leave her lips. Instead, it came out in a pitiful wheeze.

Mistaking the gesture for one of pain, Jean smoothed a hand over Samira’s back. “It’s alright, Samira. Do you want something for the pain?”

Samira shook her head and hid her face behind her hands, the gauze absorbing her tears.

“It’s okay if you do. You don’t need to be brave, not here.”

Samira shook her head again, gulping back another sob before it could surface.  She already owed them so much, and it shamed her to anticipate their response to her inability to speak - and now, it seemed, the inability to walk. Had the Team left any part of her untouched?

[kissyouallaway]

six songs I've been liking... thank u to @9cl for recommending this to me

My friend sent me this song cause bleachblonde sampled it and like oh my god it's so fucking good I can't even begin to start talking about it just that riff with the room mic vocals AND THAT FUCKING CHORUS LIKE OH MY GOD NEVER A WASTE OF MY TIIIIIIME it's such a sad song and it really reminds me a lot of my past like when I was a Rochester indie emo kid at age 15 recording folk music in my bedroom but idk it's different it doesn't make me feel bad in the same way like listening to the stuff from back then makes me feel (like I'm going to slip back to that time period and fall into depression again.) good song tho

couture23/Remy cechovic/instagram_filter is one of my favorite artists with more good songs than I can remember but this one in particular sticks out to me, teks part is good but god Remy's verse with the delivery being so quiet and almost shy over such an emotive and dense beat with the lyrics "going from swingsets and basketball courts to being sat in a room, being told all the rules" it's so nostalgic and sad and just heartwrenching it just makes me want to cry

Lucy is another one of my favorite artists, his style is so unique and his like vocal style is so versatile it's crazy... his imagery and the words he chooses to use in his lyrics feel almost old timey in a way...idk really how to put it other than that but it makes me think of my old orthodontists office that I used to go to when I was 8 that was completely decked out in sea themed everything, just something about it... also I love the video with him throwing the minion plush around while singing :)

herstory is someone who I actually know on here as well as a super insanely talented producer and singer... I love all of his songs and stuff with the band los3r but this one in particular is super fukn good, the vocals feeling like a cry out over the guitar and just exploding into that last section I mean like come on it's fucking incredible

cg is another rly cool person I know from social media as well as a good rapper... the beat in this song feels really loose and like it's barely holding itself together it's really cool, the pluck sound I really love too lol... I also love the line "I feel like stewie griffin with the cool whip"

I don't even know where to begin with this song... the whole composition is so fucking insane and beautiful, the first part with the mp3 compression and click sound feels like what the first day of snow in winter always feels like 2 me idk how to put it... and the lyrics "don't take me home tonight, I'm not feeling right, stumbling towards the light" paint a very specific picture in my head that I've actually tried to draw before.. in late winter to early spring I went through an almost total mental collapse where I was constantly afraid and super fucking angry and suicidal and was having awful mood swings where I wasnt able to cope with living for much longer cause it brought me so much pain emotionally, and this whole song feels like what that kind of fear felt like...kinda paranoia but not really there's kinda anger in it but also feeling like you're alone and super vulnerable and it's just oh my god the part at 1:38 fucking chills down my spine every time I think it's my favorite song right now it's brutal and soul crushing and just too much to put into words...

I would like 2 nominate @findingtheanecdote to do one next

[allaboardsubmas]

Part I

A/N: I am sick and can't stop sneezing from some allergies that decided to cruelly attack. So, I wrote three pages of a cute little drabble out of nowhere that I may or may not continue because, as always, I have Ideas.

[Part I] [Part II] [Part III]

Summary: Emmet is sick. Ingo frets.

***

Thrown forward by the force, Emmet gritted his teeth as he felt the spasms travel down his back before tightening at the bottom of his spine. The pain repeated itself twice, three times, again- 

“You are not going into work today like this. You can’t even stop sneezing.” Glaring up at his brother, Emmet’s body betrayed him as he tried to plead his case. This time he sneezed five times in a row and could feel the frustrated tears welling up in his eyes. He did his best to not let them show.

“I am Emmet. I am-” Hm. He did not like to lie, and he wasn’t sure he could claim he was fine. “I am functional. I can still complete my duties as I am.”

Ingo stared at him, verrry judgemental, which, well. Emmet had collapsed on the couch as the sneezing fit had overtaken him. But he had recovered! Ingo seemed to be waiting for it to happen again, and Emmet wouldn’t give him the satisfaction even as he could feel the burning at the roof of his mouth and the terrible sensation of something almost dripping and the burning increasing- 

“That is your fifth attack since we woke up, Emmet. We have only been awake for an hour.” Ingo had, at least, waited until Emmet had recovered and blown his nose. “Even if you show no other symptoms and this is a case of allergies, I highly doubt working underground with trains and Pokemon battles will help you recover.” 

“Allergies are always the worst after waking up. As soon as we get to Gear Station I will be fine.” He hoped he would, at least. Was it lying if he wished it wasn’t one? 

“And if you are not?” Mm. That was not a question he wished to answer. Ingo seemed to realize he wasn’t going to get an answer because he sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Let me take your temperature one more time. If it has remained unchanged, I will not force the issue and allow you to go.” 

“Deal!” Emmet beamed, muffling another few sneezes into his tissues as Ingo left to get the thermometer. After he finished blowing his nose, he made a face and immediately held the tissues out towards a fretting Garbordor. “I am once again verrry grateful we have you with us.” 

Their precious little thing gurgled happily before devouring the tissues, Emmet gently patting the steel she used for her arm. Since Ingo’s fretting hadn’t allowed him to dress for work, yet, he could feel how cool it was against his hand, the sensation nice after his body felt so heated from all the sneezing. 

“Emmet.” Startling at his name, Emmet looked up to where Ingo was sitting beside him- When had he gotten back? No, better, when had he sat down? “Please remain still and I apologize for any discomfort.” 

Ah. Ah. It was the ear one. Emmet hated the ear one. It must have shown on his face since Ingo’s expression softened before he held out his free hand, Emmet quickly latching on. “I apologize, I know you don’t like this. It is the surest way to confirm your temperature, however.” 

“Nn. Hurry?” Emmet shut his eyes as soon as Ingo nodded, trying to not squirm at the invasive feeling. As soon as it beeped to confirm it was finished, Emmet was jerking away and rubbing his ear. It usually wasn’t that bad, but his ears ached. Probably from all the sneezing? “May I be allowed to get dressed for work, now?”

“You may not.” Wha- But he had let Ingo take his temperature! He had said-! “I might not be, as well.” Emmet squirmed to look at the gauge at the clear worry in Ingo’s tone, squinting at the number and then wincing, and, okay. That was… not great. “Emmet, your temperature has risen three degrees within the past hour.” 

“Maybe it was wrong?” Emmet suggested weakly, whining when he felt Ingo’s hand against his forehead. He hated it because it felt cool and he knew what that meant, especially as Ingo gently tilted him forward before feeling at his back, collarbones, and upper sides. “Bad?”

“Bad.” Dammit. “You’re burning up. Here, lean back- Good. I will get you a cold compress and some pain relief to bring your fever down. After I will call us both out of work-”

“No- Wait, wait, don’t give me that look,” Emmet whined, waiting a moment to make sure Ingo wasn’t about to cut him off, first. “I’ll stay home. And rest. But at least one of us should go in. Gear Station cannot be missing both of its bosses.” 

Ingo looked like he was just barely stopping himself from pacing as he stood from the couch, bullying Emmet into laying down fully and stretching out. He then looked at him again before sighing. “You will rest? And call me on my breaks? Or fi it gets worst? You will need to take your temperature every hour until it starts to drop, and-” 

“Ingo,” Emmet interrupted, laughing and earning him another sneezing fit that Ingo handed him more tissues for. “Thank you. And I will be fine. I have been sick before. Besides, if you stay here you will likely get it as well. One of us should be healthy.”

“I’ll get it no matter what with how clingy you are when sick,” Ingo, the liar, complained. He then brushed Emmet’s bangs back and leaned down to kiss his forehead, Emmet relaxing and growing soft and mushy. “I will still get you a compress and the medicine you need. I am not running the Super Singles line so I will leave you Chandelure. She will be able to monitor you if things grow dire.” 

“Worrier,” Emmet grumbled, even as he softened into mush at his brother’s care and worry. “Softie.” 

“Brat,” Ingo shot back, ruffling his hair. “I will be back.” 

It may have been the rising fever that Emmet had somehow missed up on waking up first thing, but between what felt like one moment and the next he was wound up in blankets on the couch and the front door was closing after Ingo left. 

Chandelure chimed softly above him, Emmet freeing a hand to pat cool glass, “I will be fine. I will heal. Worry about Ingo. He gets verrry lonely without me there to annoy him.” Ah, but in truth, Emmet got just as lonely. 

Squirming in his prison-slash-nest, Emmet opened up his xtrans and sent a message. ‘chandlr crying. misses u verrrrrrry much. come home soon.’ 

‘I am amazed at how you continue to defy autocorrect even with a fever.’ Heh. ‘Drink water. I will be home soon.’ 

‘Mother Ursaring.’ Emmet leaned over to grab the water he had been left and take a couple of sips. ‘Love you.’

‘I love you as well. I will be home soon.’ Mm… Emmet stared at the words, slowly frowning and hoping it was just his fever that filled him with a sense of unease. 

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’

[bitterspoons]

Lost Phones and Liquor

Tinkerbelle Series Masterlist:

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Fem!Oc

Summary: in which Belle tries to get ready for a party and betrays everyone by accident.

first part / this is part two/ next part

Word Count: 1.2k

"Hey JARVIS?" Shoving an earring in, Belle sat down on the floor to lace up her heels. "How many people are already at the party?"

"I believe you are the last to arrive again, Miss Stark." JARVIS informed, Belle replying with a simple groan of annoyance.

Belle laced up her heels, tugging to get the strings around her calves. "I swear, I really tried to be on time. My hair took so long to do." Belle played with the hairdo she put up with her freshly curled locks.

Standing up (evidently taller now) she rushed around her room to spray some perfume on as she tried to reach for her phone—which typically stood on her bedside table charging but was nowhere to be seen. "Goddamnit!" She sighed as she ran around the room—her heels creating a click-y echo.

After searching the typical places, Belle finally gave up. "Hey JARVIS? Where's my phone?"

Belle kept searching before repeating her question. "JARVIS, can you please find my phone?"

Belle, now hyperaware of the robots silence stood up and walked over to a little screen by her door. "JARVIS?" She said hesitantly, touching the little pad.

The second her finger touched the screen—it filled with images of her taken by the public.

News headlines, run-ways, conferences—the tiny screen filled with pictures of her before going dark. "JARVIS? Are you malfunctioning?" She asked softly, touching the screen again.

Mumbling quietly to herself about how Tony overworks the poor thing—she headed over to her small toolbox in the corner to try and fix him up.

As she started to walk over to the screen again—it flashed on, back to normal. "Did you just update or something?"

A different voice spoke from the screen. "Belle Stark—adopted daughter—related to: Tony Stark." The unfamiliar voice announced.

Belle chuckled. "Yes, that's me. I like your new voice, JARVIS. Sounds more human. Can you find my phone now?"

The voice agreed leading her to the bathroom.

Belle hummed a thank you, opening her bathroom door. She looked over at the sink counter, where JARVIS had said she left it. "JARVIS? It's not her—"

She looked up into the mirror, seeing a tall metal spine of a suit behind her.

Before she could say a word—a robotic hand pressed harshly on her back as she felt her spine tugging outwards.

"Yes..." She heard the voice say. "You will be quite useful."

Squeezing her eyes in pain, she felt all her bones heat up until she felt like the world was caving in.

Her head felt like it was going to explode, metal yanking down her jaw and piercing her until she felt constrained by her skin.

Icy blood flowing around, coating her hair, staining her dress until she felt free.

- - - - - - - - - -

"It's a very interesting theory." Thor acknowledged as he stood up, grabbing the hammer with ease. "I have a simpler one—you're all just not worthy."

Multiple groans emitted from the group of friends before a polite ding of the elevator.

"Oh my god," Natasha teased, rolling her eyes. "Talk about being late Belle."

The rest of the group laughed as they heard her sigh from around the corner, heels clicking as she sounded like she was coming closer.

"Let me guess...Virgin Pina Colada with those little mint leaves on top to look fancy, your highness?" Helen Cho joked, reciting the girls order as she started to make it.

The only reply was a gun shot.

A window collapsed in on itself, a bullet falling through as the gourd jumped—clearly startled.

Belle let out a small laugh, throwing the gun on the floor and hiding behind the corner as it skidding across the floor.

She heard the clicks of guns and the swoosh of a metal shield. She grinned before carefully walking out from behind the corner. "Hola Familia!" Belle greeted loudly with a laugh.

The avengers watched horrified as their youngest member walked out covered in blood and severally limping—metal bones sticking out from her muscles and swinging a baseball bat.

They watched as she walked with her back leading and legs following, as if her spine was telling her where to go.

"Belle what happened—"

"Shhhhh!" Belle shushed anyone who tried to talk, walking around and swinging her bat against vases of flowers and glass panes. She laughed and tripped and walked on tables. "Worthy..." She mumbled amused.

Swinging her legs down, Belle sat on one of the glass covered tables. "Do you wanna know my theory?" Belle asked, swinging her bat at whoever came close to her.

The avengers looked around confused as Belle brought the conversation back to Mjolnir. "Nobody here can lift it I mean—" Belle interrupted herself with a sharp laugh. "How could you be worthy?" She looked at them sharply.

"You're all killers."

Steve tried getting close to her, reaching his arms up to try and help her down from the table. "Belle ,what happened."

"Nuh uh-" Belle stuck out her bat, making a solid boundary between him and her. "I'm waiting for someone."

"Belle, are you drunk?" Natasha asked concerned.

"I said, I'm waiting for someone!" Belle complained childishly. "You've ruined the entire dramatic build up!" She shrieked.

"It's okay..." Another voice rang out from the other side. "I was late, it was my fault. Sorry, I was...asleep..." A janky Iron Legion suit hobbled into the room to Belle's delight. "Or in a dream?"

"Reboot, Legion OS error." Tony spoke quietly into his tablet before Belle snatched it from his hands and chucked it across the room.

"I was tangled in...strings..."

"JARVIS doesn't want to talk to you right now." Belle warned, pointing the bat at Tony's chest. "So maybe pay attention."

"Had to kill the other guy..." The buggy suit continued as her friends tried sitting Belle down while looking at the broken suit of armour. "He was a good guy..."

Steve looked at the suit incredulously. "You killed someone?"

"Would've have been my first call!" The robot admitted. "But down in the real world, we're faced with ugly choices."

"Ooh! Play the recording!" Belle clapped her hands excited.

A small jittering came from inside the janky Legion suit before playing a voice recording. "I see a suit of armour around the world." Tony's nice reiterated from the machine.

"Ultron." Bruce realised.

Realising people were piecing things together. Belle stood up again, discreetly as they were distracted by Ultron. She stood up and grabbed the gun she slid over earlier.

"In the flesh." Ultron kept drawing his speech out. "Or no, not yet. Not in this... chrysalis."

"But I'm ready," Ultron continued. "I'm on a mission." He announced.

"What mission?" Natasha asked steadily.

Ultron turned to her, and second before the walls exploded—he told them—"Peace in our time."

With that, Iron Legion suits came crashing down into the living room, Guns were fired, blasts of energy were propelled and a set of fairy wings extended.

As the group of agents began fighting with the suits of armour—Belle quickly flew towards the sceptre, snatching it and blowing a hole through the window with her sword.

Quickly flying through the busted window, Belle took the septre and flew into the night sky—limbs limply following her torso as she dragged herself somewhere.

"I had strings but now I'm free...There are no strings on me....I've got no strings on me!" Belle sang dejectedly as the words she sang weren't true.

For only the stars knew the unconscious look in her eyes and how the gateway to her soul was being puppeteer-ed by a manic program who had his metallic "heart" set on endgame.

end of part 2

[superb-scum]

”I’m your king. If I so wish for you to bend the knee and suck my cock, you will do so.”

“You are my king, your grace. But I shall do nothing simply because you wish it. You shall have to command it,” Aemond sneered at his brother. A sneer did not suit him, Aegon decided. The man that stood before him seemed miles away from the young brother he once knew.

“Do you command it,” Aemond stepped closer, a slow and calculated step that made the room feel like it was closing in on Aegon, as his brother’s shadow engulfed Aegon’s form, “my king?”

Aegon swallowed, unsure eyes questioning the teasing eye of Aemond. He was spellbound to the floor as if he was weighed down by the shadow of Aemond blocking Aegon from the flickering torchlight. Aegon might have tamed a dragon, but his brother was a whole other beast. The slightest misstep could scare him off or cause him to attack. A command might make Aegon seem weak because he had no other way of persuading Aemond, who was supposed to be his inferior.

Aegon was perfectly well aware that he was no longer capable of beating his twat of a little brother in a fight, but that did not make him crave a fight any less. The desire to provoke Aemond until he snapped was tingling under his skin, electrifying Aegon as his body tensed in preparation at the mere thought of fighting. He became suddenly aware of how ill he was feeling. Eyes and limbs sore from the abuse he caused himself when drunk enough for the world to become a blur. Aemond himself seemed to blur before him, Aegon’s mouth dry, and tongue uncomfortable in his mouth. There was no strength in his exhausted excuse of a body, and his head felt like it was slowly collapsing in on itself. His body felt hot as if he was running a fever, which made the cool wind blowing in from the open balcony feel like needle pricks on his sensitive skin.

If he were to start a fight, not only would Aemond win, but all his touches and blows would feel like dragon fire on Aegon’s weakened and pained body. He would crumble under Aemond’s fists and lay to waste as he was made to feel nothing but the harsh reality of his skin bruising, breaking, and bleeding. Aegon ached for it. To be completely and utterly destroyed by his brother’s hands. There was no one else he could trust to give it to him with enough hatred and love, for Aegon to feel truly alive.

“I command you to suck my cock.” Aegon hated how weak his voice was, and how it sounded more like a question or a plea, as if he had to apologize for even thinking about actually commanding it.

His heart skipped a beat when Aemond’s eye twitched. Aegon’s body was trying to warn him of the danger in front of him. The danger of bringing out Aemond’s fury, the danger of getting what he commanded, and the danger of their entire dynasty crumbling down on top of them. It felt good. A shiver ran up his spine and into his shoulders, turning the shiver into a full-body shake.

Aegon dared not entertain the idea of Aemond obeying him. It would not be befitting of Aemond. In the end it did not matter whether Aemond was going to suck him or beat him. Aegon needed the release. Release from everything but a moment between them.

[blueroses789]

From Green to Blue

Summary: The thoughts of Eren with another woman compel you to act, or rather, self-destruct.

Chapter 19: Compelled

Next chapter: tba

Warnings:

Angst

Smut

Mental health crisis

MDNI: 18 plus

It was madness, rage and lust that provoked you. Fingers tangled in silky brown hair. Eren’s breath hitched as the two bodies pressed against one another. You did not care that it was in the kitchen, first, something had to be satiated.

Anger, humiliation, greed. These emotions must be satiated. Months of supersede emotions boiled forth into that kiss. Eren quickly broke apart to seize the hem of your dress. Understanding what Eren wanted, you lifted your arms. The blue dress tumbled to the floor in a heap.

Eren’s green eyes took in your body. A sudden shyness came over you. The look in Eren’s eyes was bright, a look you had not seen in months. The sight was so alarming that on instinct you covered your body.

“Y/n we don’t have to.” Despite the out Eren had given, there was something egging you on.

“No, don't.” You breathed out. Eren got down on his knees, hands going down to your underwear. The cool air stimulated the senses. You could feel his hot breath on the thighs.

“Eren-!” He didn’t wait. A leg went over his shoulder to slot a warm mouth over your slit. Plump lips kissed between your legs.

You’d forgotten how it felt. His hair tickles your thighs, breath hits your body, and hands slide up your waist.

Eren first swiped his tongue between the slit.

“Don’t tease.” Your voice came out in a gasp. Eren’s hands gripped your waist providing stability. He finally focused on your clit, hardening his tongue. A yelp escaped your mouth. Eren positioned his face so that it was easier for you to take control.

“Grab my hair.” He mumbled, sending shivers up your spine. Eren focused on the clit as you took control. It gave you a savage joy to take this. Lust was not the prevailing motivator. You had complete control over Eren. Looking down you saw his cheeks flushed and half-lidded eyes. Moans came rumbling from his chest. For a moment Eren broke apart to breathe. But it was quick as pleasure overtook his veins.

“Wait.” Eren let out a whine as you moved back. With aching legs, you hopped up onto the counter. Eren didn’t even let you get in a word because he was back to work.

Legs wrapped themselves around his head as you reached a high. You gritted your teeth so hard they throbbed.

Exhausted, you slumped back. Eren cleaned up between your thighs. He only let up when your legs shook from overstimulation.

The two of you looked at one another. Both of you had hot faces and trembling legs. Your pussy throbbed seeing your slick dripping down his chin.

“Bed.” You ordered.

The next two days passed in a haze of sex. Your life had come from celibacy to hardly being able to get out of bed. There wasn’t a surface untouched. It was like whipping away the last bits of Hannah.

Your fingernails dig into the bathroom wall as Eren took you from behind. The hot bathroom water showered on your body. Hot kisses peppered the back of your neck, each touch stinging.

“Eren!” Your stomach is uncoiled. Eren trembled behind you. Reaching his own release Eren wrapped his arms around your waist. It took a for moments for both of you to climb down. Eren turned off the shower and picked up a towel. Once dried the two of you collapsed onto the bed.

With a yawn, you turned over to sleep. You could hear Eren coming closer, arms curling around your waist. Angry snakes were thrashing around in your stomach, their tails smacking the sides. Your gut was curling up into itself. All you could do was close your eyes, feel his breath on the back of your neck, and sleep.

Was it just you or was the white ceiling lower? You had stuck a few stick-on flowers to the ceiling. All that did was make the white ceiling look that much bigger. You had changed the rug under your feet, a small circular pink piece. Even if it was smaller than the beige, a pink rug didn’t resemble white so much.

Thankfully Eren was gone at the moment. This left you a temporary respite from his presence. You scrolled through your phone for someone the call, the silence becoming deafening. Eren’s mother was probably tired this early in the morning, your own was certainly not an option. Your finger hovered above Biannca’s icon. But your pride and shame were stronger. You didn’t want to disturb Armin right now. Of course, you had other friends but your deepest fears weren’t something widely shared.

You were trapped.

At four months your stomach was starting to expand. The physical weight of pregnancy was starting to impede your life. You’d been lucky in not having severe morning sickness for very long. The cold was sweeping through your body now. The days seemed colder now, despite the temperature rising.

Today you sat in a warm bathtub trying to keep from shaking. A cinnamon-scented candle burned away. Soapy suds clung to your cold body. Relaxed, you wondered if this was how your baby felt. All cozy and floating without a care in the world.

What would you do when the baby was born? As always your brain froze when it came to that problem. There wasn’t enough room for the baby in this apartment, and you couldn’t go on living like this forever. You looked down at your stomach, a hand running over its surface. What would the baby look like? Boy or girl? Who’s look would the baby favor? What would it be like?

Your thinking was cut short as Eren entered.

“Is everything alright?” Eren knelt beside you, placing a hand on your belly.

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?”

“I just hope the baby is alright..” Eren pushed the hair back from your face. It had become slightly damp despite not being in the water. Eren seemed to want to say something, so you turned your back on him.

There was nothing you wanted to hear.

The next morning you were filled with dreadful excitement. Today you would see your baby for the first time. For the first time you woke up before Eren. By the time Eren woke up you were already dressed and eating breakfast.

“If you're up to it we can meet up with my mother afterward.”

“Sure.” You had no problem with that. And anyway you still had some questions to ask her regarding pregnancy. You had at one point considered asking your mother some questions, but put that thought out of your mind. Speaking of your mother, she had been suspiciously silent for the past few weeks. Maybe tormenting you was simply a temporary distraction.

Would you be a good mother? You had no doubt that you would love your child. But loving and actually being a good mother can sometimes be two different things. You wondered if at one time your mother loved you. Perhaps the years weighed heavy and she no longer had the heart to love.

“This will be different, I’m not doing this alone.” You convinced yourself. All would be fine.

By 9:00 you and Eren were in the car.

“You seem excited.” A small smile played on Eren’s lips. The ride there felt like it took too long despite it only taking twenty minutes.

The smell of cleaning products was heavy in the air. Eren placed a hand on your back. Already a few waited in the hallway. Mothers who were expecting just as you were. You noticed a young woman around your age. She was alone and looked scared. You wondered if she had no one to rely on.

“This will be cold and a bit uncomfortable.” The doctor squirted blue jelly onto your belly. You winced and tried to stop squirming by squeezing harder onto Eren’s hand. A small giggle broke out and Eren had to try to stop laughing. A doctor started to press down on your belly with the transducer. The screen was only foggy black and white. But every move captured your eyes in awe. You could just make out a small figure amongst it all.

“Is that-?”

“Yes, that's the baby. Do you want to find out the gender?”

“Yes!” Both you and Eren said in unison.

“You two don’t have any preferences?” She asked.

“No. So long as the baby is healthy.” Eren said.

“Well, it's a boy.” You smiled, looking at Eren.

“And he looks fine?”

“Healthy and whole.” She replied.

Carla squealed in delight at the noise. She nearly crushed you in her hug. Zeke and Grish descend the stairs.

“Y/n’s having a boy!” Grisha laughed.

“It seems that the Yeager family can only make boys.”

“Don’t tell Faye that.” Zeke gave his brother a hug.

“Plus you and Pieck will have to have a baby before we know that.” You raised an eyebrow at Zeke. Everyone laughed as his face turned red. Everyone hurried to the kitchen as Carla put on some tea. You couldn’t help but notice there was a spring in her step.

“We actually have some good news ourselves.” Grisha looked lovingly at his wife. Carla gave you and Eren an exhilarating look.

“The doctors say the chemo is going well. They believe I am entering the recovery stage.” The words came out in a rush. Immediately Eren rushed to his mother's side and encased her in an enormous hug. A shocked gasp broke past your lips.

“Oh my god congratulations!” You cried. And as the group of you hugged, for one moment, everything seemed alright.

notes: So this chapter is shorter than my usual length. I just felt like this was the right point to cut off. Next is going to be from Hannah's point of view and oh boy is it going to be angsty.

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