cries i have so many drawings that are half done still to be done

Tam Lin

Sakura rolled the bead shaped pebble under her toe back and forth, feeling but not seeing it. Her eyes were hazy and unfocused as she stared into the amber liquid of her drink. Half of it was gone but it felt like if she tipped it over the beer would flow forever. She was already light from it.

There was a shadow that passed over her and then the seat across from her creaked from the weight of the visitor. She lifted her eyes and blinked until the vision in front of her came into focus. What she saw made her grin out of the side of her mouth.

“Oh, I had heard the royal brothers of a far off land were visiting to court the sisters of whirlpool, but I didn’t think I would see one here in this little hole in the wall.”

Sakura blinked and looked up at the window to the outside. She could see the sign hanging but couldn’t remember what the words meant. Her vision was blurred and she had to blink again to see better.

“He’s been looking for you. Have you heard?” Itachi asked.


Sakura blinked and kept her eyes closed while she adjusted her posture in the seat. The places where her skin was stitched back together were all still sore. Not even a single one felt better and it had been days. She always healed slower during the New Moon nights.  

“It’s the whole reason we’re out here this far, since there was some business concerning children going missing near the moors. One of the wise women said it was fair folk business and that’s all he needed to hear.”

“Kelpie aren’t fair folk, technically speaking. They’re beasts… sentient beasts, but they just want to eat pretty tasty things.” Sakura’s eyes couldn’t focus and she felt the pebble crack under her toe when she sat up again. “But that’s beside the point, because the moors are plenty of miles west of here and there are a dozen different bars like this one you could have wandered into. What are you doing here?”


She blinked. “What?”

“There are fifteen bars of this par and quality in the city. I’ve been to all of them.”

Sakura hummed. “I thought it was odd that all the princes were going out together to do this courting business like a big happy family, but I can guess better now. You’re the brains, aren’t you? Madara isn’t stupid but he’s sheltered, which is sometimes worse. He wouldn’t know how to find a person without his nose.”

Itachi reached out and grabbed a tankard off the tray that passed him by and when the table maid turned to tell him off he smiled and flashed her a silver coin she took with a blush and a stutter.

“He misses you terribly. Finding you again is all he seems interested in getting out of bed for. He’s turning out to not be what father hoped.”

Sakura raised a finger. “Let me stop you there and read your mind. Ah, the king blames me for that, does he. He says I bewitched or cursed his son and that it’s alllllll my fault. How’s that?”  

Itachi sipped at his drink without turning his nose up at it, but set it aside after only a mouthful. “You’re not far off but he has no one to blame for how things went. I don’t blame my brother. He’s had so little kindness in his life it is not hard to believe he’d want to covet what little he’s tasted.”

Sakura swallowed, glancing towards the bar door. It wasn’t busy inside and she could see clearly and easily all the way to the front and back exit. She reached inside her cloak where the shadows were heaviest and pulled out some berries still on the twig. She popped a few into her drink and then knocked the whole tankard back.

“What was that?” Itachi asked.

“Is Madara on his way here?” Sakura countered.

“Maybe. It depends on how fast Sasuke can get to him.”

Sakura hummed and pushed her tankard across the table. “Sorry, but I need to leave. I don’t dislike your brother, but this and that aren’t things worth speaking about. I’m not ready for someone to think so well of me, and I’m afraid of what sort of terrible things he would see if he stayed too long or too close.” She smiled playfully. “Tell him to move on.”

“You think it would be that bad?”  Itachi braced to stand but staggered, falling back into his seat. His eyes went wide. “What?”

“It’ll last only a few minutes but the more you fight it the longer it will last. Don’t fret, the effects aren’t long lasting at all.”

Itachi looked at the twig left bare on the table and then the pair of tankards. Sakura made a clucking note and he stared up at her.

“You put something in my drink,” he gasped.

“Nope, just mine, but it was an antidote to the toxin we were both exposed to when I crushed a hag berry under the table. I’m sorry, but I’m not ready to stop running.”  

Sakura turned towards the back door and stopped when the pain in her side made her gasp. She covered it with a chuckle and shook her head. Her eyes still swam fuzzy and she could smell her blood in places the shadows clung darkest. She turned and headed for the front entrance, staggering like the other drunks with a sloppy smile.

“Sakura, don’t do this. He’s not the sort of person that will give up.”

Something about the tone of his voice made her turn, hand on the doorframe, ready to leave. She looked back and smiled sadly, believing every word. “I know. I’m still sorry. There are many more miles I need to go before I am done.”

“Done with what? We can help you if you are in trouble with someone.”

Sakura laughed. “I doubt that. Tell your beautiful brother what you need to. Say I was with another man, or two or three, I’m a harlot that doesn’t love. Tell him I have money problems and I used him. Say what you need to, just don’t tell him to keep searching because that will only hurt him longer.”      

She pulled the cloak’s hood down and stumbled out of the bar and into the shadows between streets and buildings.

The morbid part of her that liked to press her bruises until the pressure made them sting stopped and dominated her in that instant. She turned and looked back, watching as a pair of brothers too pretty to be peasants raced down the street. Madara passed the Dancing Pig pub, but Sasuke had to yell at him to turn back and Madara cursed about having to scramble. When he turned Sakura saw his face.

It hurt worse than any bruise.

“This is what you wanted, idiot,” she said to herself, backing away and drawing her cloak closer. She hurt all over and only half of the pain was from the bleeding bits of flesh.  

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(your hands tremor with all you are afraid of grasping)

My darling, most beloved Sue. Look what I finally finished!!! I wrote you this thing because a) I wanted to, b) it was your birthday and you deserve nice things, and c) I found screenshots of a convo we had that I kept on my phone as a reminder to write The Thing and laughed and laughed and laughed, so.


This is a remix/sequel to @bluefurcape‘s fic Regret.

Warnings: unreliable narrators, angst, swearing, smut, length (7,000+ words).

Crossposted to AO3.

When he finds her in the bar, it’s like all his failures come home to roost.

If he could go back, if he could do it all again, would he turn around the moment that chalkboard eraser hit his head and never look back? Would he tell the Sandaime “No, I will not. Give them to someone else, to anyone else”?

Maybe if he had, maybe if Kakashi had done something selfless for once in his fucking life, he could have spared her this.

Someone else, anyone else, could have taught them, guided them, ensured that Sakura never ended up here in this dive of a bar, so drunk she can’t sit up straight let alone muster the ability to stare at the pale band of flesh where her wedding ring used to sit.

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MadaTobi Soulmate Drabble

Soulmate AU where whenever you lose something, your soulmate winds up finding it.

from (x)

Ever since he was little, Madara would find odd bits and bobs nudged amidst all of his things – crayons in his pocket, pacifiers in his drawers, socks under couches, and even a tiny knitted beany in his little brother’s house slippers once. It’s very annoying. It clutters his room and he’s always being told off by his parents for it.

Then came the drawings. Sometimes crumpled, sometimes not.  Over the years, it grew from illegible, grainy scrawling to clumsy shapes and bendy forms that took less, and less stretching of his imagination to determine as hiragana characters.

My name is Senju Tobirama, one of it reads.

Paranoia coils in him. Soulmate or not, the thought of a stranger stumbling upon his belongings, his personal, informative, belongings is enough to make anyone holler out stranger danger. This soulmate mumbo jumbo is weird.

Strangely enough, that’s how he meets his best friend, through the strange mumbo jumbo.

“I’m supposed to be showing my little brother around school today,” bawls the boy with the bowl cut while latching himself on Madara’s arm, all big eyes brimming with tears, and snot running down his nose. “It’s his first day and I can’t find him anywhere! He must be so scared! Will you help me look for him?”

Considering it’s Madara’s first exposure to comforting a fellow seven-year-old that’s crying his eyes out, Madara himself feels a little lost. His panicking eyes flick around them for help, but all the other children have quickly vanished into air as if they were the ninjas they routinely pretend to be. Oddly, he feels betrayed.

Whenever Izuna cries, it’s because he either wants attention or food. Ransacking through his lunchbox, Madara grabs one of his onigiri, and shoves it into the crying boy’s hands. He takes a deep breath, and huffs out his next statement with enough annoyance to drown out his panic, “Will you stop crying?”

There, food and attention. He should stop his crying any minute now.

But much to Madara’s despair, the boy threatens to swell up with tears again. “But he’s alone,” the boy whines, “and he’s so small and everything’s new to him and I need to find him because he could be getting bullied right now–”

“I’ll help you look for him, okay?” Despite holding the onigiri, the shrivelling boy still has one arm clinching Madara’s own. Madara tries (and fails) to shake the crying limpet away. “I’ll help you look for your baby brother. Stop crying already. He couldn’t have gone far, he’s like five.

As if the magic words were a box of tissues, all tears dry up, and the boy glows. “Okay then, let’s go!” He jumps up and drags Madara with him, snacking on his onigiri in a way that makes Madara feel like he’s been played. “Let’s go find Tobirama!”

Madara stumbles over his own foot. His lunchbox almost falls out of his hands. “Tobirama,” Madara squeaks in a high voice.

His new friend, he finds out, is Senju Hashirama. Oldest of four siblings, like him, and really likes to talk about everything and nothing at once. Tobirama is the second oldest. He’s a bit of a smarty pants, according to his brother, so the dangers of meeting someone who might bully him is definitely a substantial one. Hashirama cheerfully informs him that he has to help beat up the bullies, as part of the agreement of their newfound friendship.

It feels like getting carried away in a Hashirama-shaped tidal wave. Madara ends up not minding it. There’s a tugging in his belly, pulling him towards the library. Flutters of excitement are running up his arm at the thought of meeting his soulmate.

When they do find him, his little body is curled up on one of the beanbags, absorbed in book that’s got to be way too advanced for a five-year old to read. Tobirama peers up from his book at Hashirama’s joyous exclamations. He eyes his older brother like a particularly unpleasant fur ball he’d just hacked up, the expression as prickly as his white hair, and dodges his older brother’s hug with an expert shuffle off his bean bag.

Then and there, Madara knows that he’ll grow to like his soulmate, just as he knows how Tobirama losing Hashirama on his first day of school was definitely not an accident.

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Promptio Werewolf AU Part Seven

Here ya go, guys. The beginning of the end. I warned you it was coming, and, well. Yeah. It happened. 

I want to apologize in advance because the last section of this is going to be part of my release for Promptio Week (specifically for Day One: in the dark/in the light). Meaning about a month from now. Sorry!! *sweats* But I will be putting the whole thing up on AO3 once it’s done, so there’s that! 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 (under the cut)

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Vital: Part One - Terra (A Yondu x Reader Fic): Chapter Eight: Life is a Highway

Click here for: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven

Rated M for language and future NSFW chapters (these will be marked as such).

As you pull away from the house, a strange sense of closure falls over you, the same sense you had when you packed a picture of your family and your brother’s medal. Like you’re not coming home again. That’s ridiculous. Get a hold of yourself. 

By the time you get on the road in earnest, it’s starting to get dark. It’s a long, three and half hour drive to the cabin (plus a fast food drive through for dinner, a stop at the gas station to fill up, and a bathroom break off the side of the road for Yondu), but time passes quickly as you listen to music and talk.

“So, what did you do before you were a Ravager?” you ask a little while into your drive, turning down the music. He doesn’t answer right away, which is unusual for him. He usually answers your questions right away. You glance at him. He sits a little lower in his seat, hand clenched on the arm rest. “I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “You don’t have to-”

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Nova vs Chapter 18: This is how we do it

Hello everyone, Mr.E here and back! Thank you for everyone who likes, comments and reblogs this story. it means a lot to me

i want to apologize to those who were waiting for this. I took a month off because in all these nearly 2 years of writing (holy snap that’s next month) and the random bouts were i didn’t post, I never actually took a break. but I’m back, refreshed and ready to keep stories for you amazing people.

Here it is, the finale of the current arc thought of by my good friend @marionette-j2x who was kind enough to let me borrow her ocs *Jelina, Mary and Berry with their lord Kim* and let me write out the arc idea she came up with and a special @thefandombytes who helped me with some translations. thanks buddy, I greatly appreciate it! 

This is not the story finale so no worries, there’s still some more nova on the way. Well I am going to simply let the show get on the road cuz I know a few of you waited a long time for this so here we go.

also here’s the link to the ff page in case you want read this from the beginning or stumble upon this randomly

Notification Squad 

@hipster-rapunzel @isolated-frequencies @artgirllullaby 

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Character: Dean Winchester

Warning: Description of vampire turning someone, blood

Word Count: 2,069

Pairing: Dean x Reader


   Lights off, shutters closed, gaps covered. That’s the way to do it. That’s how you keep this from being more miserable than it has to be for Dean. There’s little you can do about the sounds and smells; he’ll have to deal with those. Poor thing is a tense, huddled ball in the corner of the motel room, and the puncture wounds on his neck are red, sore, and inflamed. His chest heaves with measured breaths. At least you aren’t adding to his suffering. Your heart doesn’t beat.

   “I wish I had smelling salts,” you say gently, drawing near. “Sometimes they help take the edge off.”

   “I can still hear them,” he rasps. “The neighbors.”

   “Which ones?”

   “All of them.” Dean grimaces and shifts. “I can hear six hearts. I can hear blood rushing through their veins. Two men, three women, one kid. One of them has a heart murmur – ungh!”

   He brings a hand to his mouth and convulses in on himself, feet digging into the carpet. Hissing, he lifts his head and bares a set of new, sharp teeth, and his eyes shimmer white as they reflect what little light still enters the room. He hides both of these things by hunching over and hanging his head low.

   “I’m so thirsty,” he murmurs, voice dripping with shame.

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The Smaller Assistant

I’m not dead woooo!! Just. Very bogged down with school work at the moment. So there’s that… but nonetheless, I figured I’d treat y’all to some more Little Assistant, so I hope you enjoy, and apologizes for any errors! I hope I can get back to my art soon lmao

Have you ever had a day where you felt so over-worked that you thought you could just fall over and collapse?

Shop was having one of those days, but her problems were about to get…bigger. She’s a size shifter, and one would think she would take advantage of this fact in her endeavors working for Dark, but she knew better. She knew that if Dark ever found out about her ability, he would use it against her. Somehow. She was cautious that way, only shifting in small increments when she was sure she was alone, which didn’t happen very often under Dark’s watchful eye.

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Genre: Slight Angst
Info: College AU, Namjoon/Reader, feat. Hoseok, 19+
Warnings: Mentions of drugs, heavy drinking
Word Ct: 3.672

Have you ever done something that you regret with every piece of your existence? Like that split second where the weight of your decisions just comes crashing down around you. That exact moment when you can feel relationships end, bridges burn, and when trust is completely shattered? No? Well, I have.

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We Met This Day A Hundred Years Ago

A The Prince and The Dragon Story

Summary: It’s been a hundred years since Argen has seen his bond-mate. When a young friend drags him out for a shopping trip, he encounters something he never expected 

Word Count: 5204 

Notes: A lovely Anon asked for Argen/Lawrence as exes who hadn’t seen each other in a long time. Since I can’t actually see a reason these two would ever break up, this is what happened. I hope you like it, even if it isn’t exactly what you asked for!

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A Second Chance - Chapter 14

Summary: Max and the OC (reader) have a heated discussion that leads to a rather uncomfortable outcome for Max.

Characters: Max, Reader (OC)

Warnings: Swearing, a little bit of smut, self harm & some serious angst. 

Notes: This was also written really late so I’m sure it’s kind of meh. I wrote this last night, just didn’t get a chance to post it. So I’m sure there are some grammar/spelling issues. 

AO3 Link:

Originally posted by mypapawinchester

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Imagine you're on a game show Part 2

Read Part 1 Here

Three contestants were featured on the first episode, including you. In the last five minutes, there was a draw to see who would give birth during the after-show. The contestant after you was drawn. She was brought back onstage. She was hesitant at first, but the promise of money and other benefits won her over. Not to mention that, with her children birthed, she wouldn’t be indentured to the studio. For a moment, you were envious that her time under such awful conditions was cut short. But you quickly changed your mind when you watched her get injected with another substance. Her belly swelled and she screamed in horror and pain. Her water broke, nearly causing her to collapse into the chair. Her feet were placed in the stirrups, exposing her to the entire crowd. The host prodded at her entrance with his fingers, telling her that it was too soon for her to push. She cried out in pain, the contractions unbearable. You turned away from the show, one of the employees showing you to the room where you would be staying.

The room was nicer than you expected. The bed seemed comfortable and there was a television and room service at your disposal. But some equipment in the corner of the room caught your eye. You didn’t recognize half of it, but you knew there was an ultrasound machine. They would probably spend the spare time during the after-show updating the viewers at home on the other failed contestants. The girl giving birth was still screaming and crying. You shuddered, trying not to think about it. You would be in the same situation, eventually, but you weren’t sure if it was better to wait or to get it over with. You would just have to wait until the next episode to see if you were chosen to give birth. With every week, your chances of being selected grew smaller.

The door closed. The employee had disappeared while you were deep in thought. You turned, wondering if you could walk around and get your bearings, only to see the lock on the door. It was facing the wrong way. You wouldn’t be able to leave, but anyone would be able to get in. You tensed. It was probably to keep you from running off or trying to give birth during the after-show. You were stuck until you were freed from your contract. Even then, they were planning on dragging you back into the game for the season finale.

You sat down on the bed, trying to get comfortable despite your swollen belly. With so many children, your womb was already quite stuffed. You couldn’t imagine what you would look like when they were all fully grown. You had to sit with your legs spread in order to give it room. You were bound to have a doctor come by eventually to see your progress. You would have to ask them how far along you were.

When the door to your room opened, you woke up. You looked around, realizing that you must have fallen asleep at some point. The television was still on, playing some late night commercial. Judging by the quiet in the studio, the other contestant had finished giving birth. You wondered what had happened to her, only to see someone move toward your bed. It was the host of the show. He smiled, still so cheerful despite what he had done to three girls in an hour. Did he know that you hadn’t signed up for such a thing? Maybe he just didn’t care. Maybe he enjoyed taking advantage of those desperate for money.

“How are you, my darling first contestant?” He stood next to the bed, glancing down to your stomach. You had forgotten that he had taken your clothes before. You glanced around, seeing no wardrobe or closet. You were to remain naked, then. Figured. It would be easier for the employees to have a go at you.

You hesitated, unsure of what to say, “I’m…fine.”

“Good,” He grinned, “You were quite unlucky. The full twenty-one.”

You wanted to snap at him and say that, if the rules and questions weren’t so ridiculous, you wouldn’t have such a burden. But the words caught in your throat as he got onto the bed. You tried to move to the headboard, but his hand caught your knee. He pulled gently, causing you to fall back against the mattress. You winced at the feeling of your belly moving and the weight on your body, only to squirm as you felt him unzip his pants.

“Stop,” You pushed against his shoulders, only for him to grab your wrists and pin you down, “You can’t do this-“

“By agreeing to be on this show, you’ve signed yourself over to the studio completely until your time here is done,” He was still smiling, which only sent a shiver up your spine, “Or did you not read the fine print? I know, anything following a dollar sign is much more important, but contracts are a dangerous thing.”

He entered you, forcing a cry from your lips. You turned your head and shut your eyes, wanting to be anywhere else than pregnant with twenty-one and getting another fucked into you. You kept still, refusing to make things easy or pleasurable for him. You hoped that he would lose interest if you were too much effort to keep.

“Ah,” He noticed your expression, “Do you think you’re going to get impregnated again? Don’t worry, the drug’s worn off. We can’t add any more to you after the show’s over. The crowd is expecting twenty-one. They would be confused if there were more. But disappointed? Not really. They’ve already taken quite a liking to you.”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t want to talk to him like he wasn’t hitting your cervix and pushing your deeper into the mattress. Ragged gasps left you. Your body was betraying you.

“Have you thought about the children that you’re carrying? We collected quite a bit from the employees here at the studio, as well as from our corporate sponsors. We even decided to have a donation process for the audience. They gladly contributed to the serum that was pumped into your lovely body,” His hands left your wrists, smoothing his palms over your stomach, “I can’t wait to see how much you’ll grow. We make sure that every contestant will give birth before the season finale. You have a several weeks, though the process might take less than that. If you’re chosen for the after-show, you won’t even have to wait for nature to take its course.”

The door opened again, revealing one of the camera operators. You had seen him when you were strapped into the chair. He sighed, brushing his hair from his eyes, “I swear if one more person yells into my earpiece, I’m quitting.”

The host’s paced slowed, “You’ve just signed on. You won’t find a better job with television the way it is.”

The cameraman sighed, “Don’t remind me.”

“Do you want me to finish up here?”

“Nah, I just need a quick fix before I drive home,” He got onto the bed, removing himself from his pants. He grabbed your hair, pulling your face closer to his hips.

You shook your head, but he pried your jaw open and forced himself into your mouth. You groaned in protest, which only enticed him further. You tried to push him away, but the host pinned you down once more. Your eyes watered as you tried to find a balance between breathing and nearly gagging on his cock. You stared up at him, but quickly averted your gaze as his eyes widened and he twitched in your mouth. Clearly eye contact made things better for him. You still hoped that they would lose interest. If not now, then later.

By the time they both seemed close, your jaw was sore and your hips ached. You had grown desperate, both in mind and body. You looked up at the cameraman, sealing your lips around him rather than just keeping your mouth open. You had tried getting the host closer to his release, but he held your hips down to keep you from squirming. He was in charge, even if you were working toward the same goal. You whimpered, thighs quivering as you found your own release. You tried to breathe through it, but were instead forced to wait as the cameraman groaned and pulled your closer. You watched him, his hands still gripping your hair tightly as you swallowed several times. He relaxed, freeing himself from your mouth with a wet pop. He cleaned himself up and left the room. Warmth pooled inside of you, causing you to stiffen. But your womb didn’t swell with another child. The host had been telling the truth. He composed himself, casting you another bright smile and charming wave before leaving you alone.

You stayed there for a moment, shifting slightly in an attempt to relax your jaw and legs. You climbed under the blankets, too tired to worry about the mess and the bitter taste in your mouth.

The season crawled onward. You realized that there were only three days of the week that you needed to worry about. The other four, for the most part, you could spend however you pleased. But the night of the newest episode, as well as the day before and after, were the days that employees showed up at the studio. You were given lingerie to wear, though it always featured easy access to your most desired areas.

The day before broadcasting was the middle ground. There were several meetings, which you often overheard as some advertising agent or anyone else in a suit came into your room and used you. You had quickly given up on modesty. You weren’t desperate for any of them, but it made them leave faster if you helped them along. Whenever someone walked in, you merely took the position they wanted and spread your legs. You had tried fighting several times when you were tired or not in the mood, but it usually ended up with security pinning you down. Once the employee was done with you, however, the security guards decided they all wanted a turn. Even the women had uses for you. It turned out that several of the employees had given birth to children recently. The first had unceremoniously walked in while you were beneath one of the gaffers with her baby in her arms. She had a meeting to get to, so she placed her baby on your chest and walked off. You tried calling after her, but she either didn’t hear you or ignored you. You guessed that it was the latter. The baby, squirming on top of you, quickly latched onto your breast. You winced, humiliated as you were milked and fucked throughout the day.

The day after broadcasting was relaxed. It seemed that those who came into your room were just as focused on your pleasure as their own. You overheard one of them mentioning that they wanted to keep you relaxed to prevent anything from happening to the babies you were carrying. You always wanted to mention that pregnant sex, especially when you weren’t willing, wasn’t exactly the most relaxed environment, but you decided to stay quiet. Some of them spent hours with you, bringing you to orgasm several times before finally entering you. You ended up being dizzy with pleasure and exhausted by the time everyone left the studio.

Broadcasting day, however, was always the worst. You dreaded it every week. You were never sure what was going to happen. You were always worried that you would be selected to give birth during the after-show. You spent the entire day on edge. Everything was so hectic. Most of the time, you were pulled every which way by the employees trying to get a quickie before they came back from commercial.

Your belly had grown to a ridiculous size. You were bigger than any pregnant woman you had ever seen. Your back ached whenever you weren’t lying on your size. It was nearly impossible to get comfortable to sleep. Employees that wanted your services often had you on your knees with your hands on the headboard. You didn’t have enough room for your belly, otherwise. Others kept you on your side and lifted one of your legs.  You spent most of your time gasping and moaning, your hands on your stomach in an attempt to stop the flurry of kicking that was sparked by every bout of sex. Your breasts leaked milk constantly, much to the relief of the employees no longer wanting to take the time to breastfeed their children.

This time, you were brought out of your room by one of the show’s producers. At first, you were worried that you had been selected for the after-show. It was the week before the season finale. You didn’t have much time left. Instead, he kept you backstage. He pushed you toward one of the tables filled with headsets and other supplies for the employees. Your stomach rested on the table’s surface. The producer bent you over as much as your stomach would allow before pulling your hips back toward him. He entered you roughly. You braced yourself against the table, wincing as the babies inside of you started kicking. They had grown substantially during the show’s season and had become quite irritable. They likely didn’t have enough room as they would have wanted, but the intrusion of someone getting between your legs always made them act up. You didn’t bother trying to soothe them. You couldn’t reach some of their kicks and they were rarely calm anymore.

There was another girl backstage. You could see her through some gaps in the equipment. Judging by her flat stomach, she was new. You wanted to warn her, to show her what had happened to you during the game, but the producer’s grip on your hips and his thrusting kept you pinned to the table. You looked away as she was taken to the stage, shivering as you felt warmth pool inside of you. The producer stepped back, leaving you feeling empty. You tried to get away from the table and go back to your room, only for another employee to notice you were free. You gasped as they grabbed your arms, spreading you wide as they pushed themselves inside of you. You could tell it was one of the security guards by the vest against your back.

You were occupied by various employees through the entire after-show and the week following it. You couldn’t imagine how many children you would be carrying if you had been impregnated each and every time someone buried themselves between your thighs. Since they hadn’t pulled you back on stage, you hadn’t been selected for the after-show. You hadn’t seen the other contestants, but you were undoubtedly the largest. Everyone else was in earlier stages of pregnancy. You were massive and ready to pop at any moment. You had hoped that they would go easier on you because of your state, but it only made them more ravenous.

Just as someone else removed themselves from your body, you felt a twinge of pain in your womb. You placed a hand over your swollen belly, only to cry out as the pressure became worse.

“Damn it,” The employee on top of you muttered, “Hey, security!”

The guard standing by the door entered the room. He insisted that he was appointed to look after you due to how far along your pregnancy was, but he usually pinned you onto the mattress when you weren’t busy with someone else, “Yes?”

“She might be going into labor,” He shoved you into the guard’s arms, “You know what to do.”

“Of course.”

At first, you thought that they would call for a doctor and see if you were really in labor. Instead, the guard moved over to the equipment in the corner of the room. You tried to get up off of the bed, but your belly weighed you down. You were barely sitting up when the guard came back to the bed. He was holding handcuffs and something you had never seen before. You screamed, trying to get away from him, but you were slower than he was. He fastened your wrists to the headboard as the other employee disappeared, likely to inform the higher ups of your condition.

He set the other object onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He removed his tie, gagging you to keep you from screaming again. The muscles of your womb clamped down harder than the last time. You shrieked, but it was muffled by the cloth between your teeth.

The guard entered your swiftly. You groaned, legs quivering in response to how much he filled you. If sex took some of the pain away, then you would be more open to his advances. His hands moved to the back of your thighs, pushing your legs back until they were on either side of your swollen belly. He inched deeper, rubbing against your cervix. You pulled against the handcuffs, the sensation driving you to a fast and rough orgasm. But the pain didn’t fade. It was only getting worse. You squirmed, trying to free yourself, but the metal was strong and he was holding you too tightly. You were pinned beneath the weight of your twenty-one children, which rocked back and forth with each of the guard’s thrusts.

His pace grew faster as he stopped to rub a hand over your belly. The babies were kicking in response to the sex, agitated by the movement. He then squeezed your breasts, which were leaking milk onto your body and dripping onto the bed. He forced himself deeper, harder, in search of his release. When he found it, you were on the verge of your own. But he withdrew, leaving you on the edge of bliss. The emptiness along with another contraction made tears well up in your eyes. You turned your head away, struggling to escape as you cried out in pain.

“This was a bad time for this happen,” He admitted, grabbing the object he had left on the bed, “The after-show isn’t for another day. They thought you would have lasted longer, at least until the season finale, but you’re going into labor early. You can’t give birth off the air, so we’ll have to put it off until tomorrow.”

You stared at him incredulously. Put off labor? How could they possibly hope to do that? He slipped your legs through something, but you couldn’t see due to your belly being in the way. Something prodded against your entrance. You tensed, thinking that he was going to fuck you again, but the thing moving into you was much larger than any man that had taken advantage of you during the season. It filled you to the brim. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel your walls twitch around it. It met your cervix, pressing into it until your back arched in discomfort. The bands were tightened around your thighs, keeping the object in place. Each time you shifted made the thing inside of you move, bring either pleasure or discomfort with it. The guard continued to position and tighten the fabric on your body. It framed your stomach and put just enough pressure on your breasts to keep them leaking. He reached underneath you to latch the final piece.

Surprisingly, he released you from the handcuffs. You immediately pulled his tie from your mouth and sat up. You looked to see just what he had put on you. It looked like some sort of bondage. You tried pulling it from your body, but everything was attached to the back. You couldn’t reach it, no matter how much you tried. The guard went back to the equipment, grabbing something white on a band.

You shrank back, shaking your head, “No, get away from me.”

He sighed, “I should have kept the cuffs on. If you don’t wear this, the higher ups are going to have a problem. If they can’t track how the child furthest down is doing, you’ll be forced to wait until the after-show. If something happens and there’s a problem, they might edit the programming and let you get it over with.”

You faltered. You didn’t want to wait if you didn’t have to. You wanted your contract to be over and to leave the studio for good. You just wanted to go to some small town and pray that you would never be recognized for your part in the show. You forced yourself to relax, letting the guard put the band around your stomach. He moved it around your lower belly where you couldn’t reach. Suddenly the sound of a rapid heartbeat came from the small white machine on the band. You stiffened. You had no sort of maternal instinct, you just wanted it to be over. You didn’t even know what happened to the children that you would birth. Would they force you to take them and mother them, or would they do something else with them?

The guard withdrew, “Good luck. With twenty-one, you’ll probably need it.”

As he left and shut the door, another contraction made you wince. You swore under your breath, only for the pressure in your womb to change. It felt like something had broken. You reached down, trying to pull the object from your body, but the straps were fastened too tightly. It wouldn’t budge. Your muscles clamped down again. You screamed. The pain was unbearable. You knew that your water had broken, but there was nowhere for anything to go. Your birth canal was so stuffed that not even liquid could get through, let alone the first child. You looked to the clock on the wall, hoping that the after-show wouldn’t be too far away.

But you had over twenty-four hours until the show. You would be forced to wait.

Ride With the Moon In the Dead of Night

               Phil hurried through the crowded street, nudging aside other life forms with muttered apologies. He wanted to get in and out of the shops quickly, okay? Already, Phil was carting around several bags of miscellaneous materials; Rhododendron Petals, Bottled Spiders’ Legs (no spiders were harmed in the making of this product, the label assured), a few jars of Frankincense, Frog Saliva, a small bag of Lion Fur, the list went on and on. He had a lot of jobs this time a year, and those jobs required a lot of ingredients. And of course, Phil still had to cleanse his own home before next Saturday, so he should probably grab a few things for that, too.

               Phil breathed a sigh of relief as he finally bustled his way into his favorite shop in the plaza: The Doctor’s Order. The best potion shop in London, in Phil’s humble opinion. Phil darted around the shop, quickly loading a basket with even more ingredients and supplies, mumbling quietly under his breath as he went. Nightshade, Jerusalem Cherries, Yew Seeds, a carefully-wrapped, clear container of Poison Ivy. Finally, Phil had everything he needed. Well. Almost everything.

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And Tomorrow, Too

(part two of TONIGHT YOU’RE MINE)

pairing: jikook
length: one shot, 4K words - second part to ‘tonight you’re mine’
genre: fluff, non au
rating: pg-13
warnings: mild swearing, too much fluff you might die. i haven’t proofread so ignore errors for now please~

summary: “tonight you’re mine, and tomorrow, too.” last night, jungkook and jimin became more than just friends. today, more-than-friends is the best thing they could ever ask for. 

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Fuchsia Sails

Notes: Request from m-lim10.  Luffy, Ace, and Sabo raise hell when they finally meet.  (Alt. title: Where the Hell Are the Straightjackets?)

Ace groaned as his Den Den Mushi rang for the fifth time that minute.  The repeated badabadabadabada had long since passed the point of being a minor nuisance and Ace was considering throwing the thing into the back of Striker.

But he couldn’t do that, because then Marco would lecture him, and Ace hated it when Marco did that.  The older man got all overprotective, and obnoxious, and caring, and stupid—

Ace pinched the bridge of his nose.  Make up your damn mind, you idiot.

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anonymous asked:

Ok so, I have asked for this multiple times on diff blogs like this for diff ships and my prompt has never been filled, y'all are my last hope... Basically Steve is insatiable during his heat and Bucky needs a break so Steve tied down to a sybian with multiple diff settings and turning into a drooling whining mess while Bucky goes about his business (maybe it's mobile so Bucky can always see his doll going fucking crazy)

I’ve got you, friend!!

So sorry for the wait, everyone. Hope it’s worth it! -Jenna

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Rivamika Week, Day 4: No Time for Subtlety (NSFW)

Day 4 Prompt: Sweet
Rating: M
Word Count: 3,568 words
Read These First: The Subtle Approach Part One, Part Two, Part Three
Summary: Mikasa and Levi have finally admitted their feelings for one another, but the Survey Corps’ demanding schedule doesn’t leave much time for them to spend alone.

They have danced around each other for so long, it feels silly to Levi to stop now. He has always appreciated the beauty of waiting, of letting things unfurl in their own time, whether it is part of a plan of attack or the simple pleasure of steeping a cup of smoky black tea poached from the gentry’s stores. Or like this thing that is happening, this mutual attraction hovering between himself and Mikasa.

They have kissed twice now, once in his room on Valentine’s Day and once out on an expedition when she woke up in the middle of the night to find him watching the dying fire, pressing his thumb against the flat shiny surface of his blade so he would have something to polish away. She crept out into the woods to relieve herself, squatting behind a thick-trunked fir.

“Mikasa,” Levi whispered as she walked back to her spread cloak on the ground, not moving from his spot before the fire. “Come here.”

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Based on the Trajectory of Laughter by PKSamurai or @apodays on here

ㅤ❝Empty spaces fill me up with hopes
Distant faces with no place left to go
Without you within me I can’t find no rest
Where I’m going is anybody’s guess

I tried to go on like I never knew you
I’m awake but my world is half asleep
I’d pray for his heart to be unbroken
But without you all I’m going to be is

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Notes: Loosely based on this post by sableu and anon because dammit I haven’t wrecked myself with ASL superfeels in too long.

“Mister!  Mister!  Hey, mister!”

Zoro smirked, glancing at Luffy as they strode through the small town’s streets.  “Hey, Captain.  You’ve got a follower.”

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Title: Travelling With The Uchihas

Summary: This is going to be a series I write about the adventures of Sasuke and Sakura (more like the fluff and smut between them) as they travel together around the world.

Word Count:  3,197

Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto.

Rating: K

Uchiha Sasuke thought he was imagining things. As he was wandering around the new, small town he had come across, he kept sensing an awfully familiar chakra. A chakra pulse he was sure could not be anywhere near him, but resided peacefully within his home village - Konoha. His senses were usually sharp, making very few mistakes, yet for the last hour he had the odd feeling that this all too familiar chakra was lurking around, following his every step. He was hoping his journey of atonement wasn’t finally making him lose his mind.

Nodding politely at the old woman who had acknowledged his presence in front of the herb shop, he entered to replenish his supplies. In the year he had been back to Konoha after the war, Sakura had helped him learn the use of a few simple medicinal plants in case he ever found himself in a situation where he had to fend for himself with nothing but mother nature on his side. He smiled fondly at the memory. The little crease between Sakura’s eyebrows as she was trying to pick out the best things to teach him was a precious memory to him still.

And it was amplified by the sensation that she was so close she might as well be breathing down his neck. Briefly, he acknowledged it might be his homesickness affecting him this much. He’d sometimes imagine hearing Naruto’s obnoxious laughter, or Kakashi’s never-ending stream of excuses for being late. Or the sight of pink locks flowing in the wind, seen from the corner of his eye, disappearing as soon as he tried to lay eyes on her.

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