#dead babies in vomit

[blindmagdalena]

enough "it's bad writing to portray evil characters sympathetically" and more "i'm uncomfortable sympathizing with characters who do evil things"

discomfort does not warrant censorship, it warrants self reflection. it's good to be challenged by the art and media we consume. the world is messy. fiction should be, too.

[klovercrown]

✨🩷✨🩷✨I wanna have a tea party with all of my comfort characters 🩷✨🩷✨🩷

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EPISODE 2 AND 3 HAVE BEEN SOOOO FUN im already so emotionally attached to each of these characters.. if anything bad ever happens to any of them im killing everyone and then everyone.

[like-tears-in-rain-storms]

Nosferatu is set in a purely Romantic universe

Or, from an external critical eye, a Romanticist one. But it lives and breathes in its time, the 1830s, the high peak of Romanticism. Enlightenment has lit up the universe, pushed God out of the limelight of reason and rendered tons of superstitions, folk knowledge and popular beliefs either redundant or obsolete. It set the human irrevocably as the center of the universe and propped him up as master of nature and fate. And yet, rationality also left people feeling adrift, in the way it suddenly left them alone in the center of the lit stage of the world - all responsibility in their own shoulders suddenly, all comfort circumscribed to the limits of a scientific rationality, ever-expanding but never fast enough, leaving huge swathes of everything in darkness, the illumination of the century of lights not reaching it and the future electricity of modernity not yet there to dispel the shadows away. Structures of centuries are flattened, and though the individual emerges as captain of their own fate, the well-tread protectiveness of church, feudalism, nobility and small community, of duchy, county, town and village gives way to empire, to capitalism and the free market, to overseas expansion and colonialism. Standards of life change in previously unknown ways - mass production starts, the Industrial revolution gets people out of their homes, their steads, their villages. Things and common knowledge changes at a previously unthought of speed, the universe, oddly enough, feels more uncertain than ever, now that man understands how little he knows, how much there is to discover - and while some, with optimism, bravery, perhaps even some kind of arrogance breathe deep the breeze of progress and dream of pushing the world forward, others retreat to the nostalgia of the old, feel keenly that that kind of arrogance is still unwarranted - that there is something in the human heart that cannot be sated with what the world knows of science, wealth and reason, and perhaps it might never be sated. New bourgeois society feels oppressive, the spirit of moderation asphyxiates them. They long for the erstwhile tempests of their humours, the awe of cathedral spires rising up to the sky, the comfort of millenia-old folk rites in big celebrations, the saints side by side with the maypole. Science is not magic anymore - it has asserted itself above gods, spirits and anything the mind can conceptualize, thus it is beyond man's hands now - science is not invented, it is discovered, it depends not on belief to be true, something only previously thought a trait of God. It causes a deeep instinctive fear, but there is no comfort there, no succor, no bargaining. Man is alone - that is, if he chooses to be. There is a dark chasm left by the retreating paganism of faith and not yet filled by the emerging dawn of fact. And people instinctively try to reacquaint and reconcile themselves with this darkness, sometimes to the point of reactionary opposition to the new world of scientific progress.

And instead of relishing the new chance of asserting themselves above the natural world, they surrender themselves to its power. They try not to beat, but to reconcile themselves with the irrational, the destructive outbursts of nature, they try to remember why their ancestors worshipped the sea and the sky, the lightning and the storm. They transform their fear into twisted pleasure - the more they feel small, the more joyful they are, the humility of measuring oneself against what is, and maybe forever will be, immeasurable, destructive, merciless leading them to a sort of esoteric peace, a dark kind of enlightenment. They look above when others look below, below when others look above. They seek not to tame, but to let themselves be swept away by their emotions, let them swell up to the point of (self-)destructiveness, of tragedy, of sacrilege. They find God again by defying His laws, His rage assuring them of His existence. They seek out the fair folk and the spirits of the undead hoping that their hybris will bring validation. They seek to be cowed, to be awed, to stick their tongue out at progress, mock "if you are so powerful, why are the people dying of the plague? Why does a young beautiful woman die a little before her wedding, a little after her child's birth, in the arms of the man who loves her? Why can you calm down the madman but can't tell what to do so he's not mad anymore? Why do you purport to be able to make man rise above his base self, overcome his passions, but can't make those passions disappear, can't transform the base self into a higher one? What if your power is smoke and mirrors, what if the crucifix above my door, the old woman's herbs, the hermit's parables are more powerful than you? What if you're leading us astray, where man wasn't meant to go? How dare you take away belief when you can't yet provide the certainty you promise?"

And Nosferatu exists in that world. Its landscapes are Friedrich's and Blechen's and Carus' landscapes, the people inhabiting that world are the new elite, the rich bourgeois, the people who rise up through learning and work, who are becoming rich as the old nobility of the land becomes poor, who get used in material comforts that would at one time only be available to kings and popes, who don't believe anymore than women are sinful because they carry the sin of Eve, but do believe that they are weak and unreliable because the moon communes with their womb, who can now cover themselves in so much fabric that they never spent a moment of their life uncovered, who look to the west with appetite and to the east with mistrust and whose sense of community is based not ignorance of the other, but on condescending apprehension, who try to shake those imaginary middle ages off them and go even further than the renaissance went - back to the white rational perfection of Greek statues and philosophy, drink from the source, who think manners and civility and temperance and sangfroid will guard them against all ills.....and these people crash and crumble against the plague and the night and the madness and the passions that they have discounted, and their experience leaves them fearful and destroyed, plunges them into excesses of despair as if to prove they are not invincible. The hybris of modernity is being punished, and the nemesis has the face of the old order, heavying down like a tombstone on the nascent infant individual, and the rotten, maggot-ridden heart of primal fear and even more primal desire, the beast of the human heart which cannot be explained except when in slumber, but defies explanation when awakened. And the only person who can kill that beast in the story is the one who submits to it, revels in powerlessness instead of power, submits to nature instead of mastering it, embraces the putrid horror of that which goes against human instinct even as she shudders in revulsion. She looks herself in the mirror and sees the monster, yet she knows a monster is not all she is. And by becoming one with the monster she becomes nature as she becomes her nature, what she was always meant to be and the most she could ever hope to become, perfect harmony by absorption and consumption, triumph of the ego even as it is annihilated. The hungry beast and the maiden of death complete each other, and like equal positives and negatives, they are balanced, annihilated, reduced into zero, which is not nothing. Together they are something new, more than the sum of their parts, even if it doesn't exist after that moment, nothing but an afterimage left on their nuptial bed. They are transubstantiated, or, in other words, sublimated. That sublimation is the meaning, and it's fitting that the highest ideal of Romanticism, the one that inspires both terror and delight, that embodies the awe of the human mind before that which rises endlessly high above it and is both terrible and beautiful, terrible because it is beautiful, beautiful because it is terrible, which cannot be one without the other, like a vampire cannot be without a maiden, or the opposite, is.....the sublime.

"Visitor to a Moonlight Churchyard", 1790, Philippe-Jacques von Loutherbourg, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection, USA.

[lemony-ship-it]

Saturn's Flame

Posted on AO3 here.

Summary: When the Earl of Phantomhive comes down with a mysterious ailment, only one hell of a butler can help, much to Ciel's chagrin. Please mind the tags.

Pairing: SebaCiel Word Count: 9,504 Rating: Explicit babeeyyyyyyyy Additional Tags: Trans Male Ciel Phantomhive, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, as in this is literally only happening to Ciel, baby's first heat, Asphyxiation, Bloodplay, Marking, Blood and Gore, look demon mating is really messy and kind of lethal, fatherly Tanaka, Blood Drinking, Dubious Consent, Vomiting, Ciel is Not Having A Good Time, But Sebastian definitely is, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Sexual Overstimulation, Marathon Sex, cannibalism mention, Pregnancy, Tentacle Sex, Sebastian's got them weird flamy lookin' tentacles and he is GOING to USE THEM, cunt4cunt, they're perfect for each other, they're terrible for each other, never change. never subject anyone to what you have going on, this is supposed to be set in between the Book of the Atlantic and the Public School Arc, Canon Compliant, i hope, sharp teeth, Biting, Scratching, Non-consensual drugging (sorta), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Porn with some plot, the author is cackling madly

Author's Notes: I don't think I've ever written a story of this length so quickly; it's been done in such a feverish daze over the past few weeks that it honestly seems like it just appeared, fully formed. If only, right? I guess that's what the hyperfixation brain gremlins are for. Anyway! On with your regularly scheduled porn! (Also I plan on coming back to this later.)

______________________________________________________________

"Young Master, it's time for you to rise," came Sebastian's mellifluous voice with a rustle of the curtains.

Every morning at 8 AM sharp, those words cut through Ciel's sleep and banished his dreams back to the darkness where they belonged. He grunted and stretched before opening his eyes to another bright morning. Oh, how that bright light vexed him. The scent of tea and scones hung delicately on the air.

"Mm, a blend this morning?" Ciel asked, rubbing his eyes.

Sebastian chuckled. "Keen as ever, I see. Yes, this morning's selection is a Whittard blend of Assam and Ceylon, served with a strawberry jam tart and Chantilly cream." He handed the teacup to Ciel by its saucer.

Ciel, in turn, sipped it. A spicy saveur unlike anything he'd tasted before danced over his tongue. "I've never heard of them before," he said. "You're certain this hasn't been tampered with?"

"I inspected it personally. There are no poisonous compounds within it," Sebastian answered.

Ciel hummed and took another sip. Such a curious, yet compelling flavor. Taking a bite of the tart, he asked, "What's my schedule for today?"

"After breakfast, Mr. Hughes will arrive to tutor you on kingcraft. At noon, you'll have Latin, followed by violin practice. I believe we have a guest coming this afternoon, a Mr. Pemberton from the main Funtom factory to discuss new safety measures for your factories."

Ciel huffed softly. "No letters?"

"None today, my lord," Sebastian replied, handing Ciel the newspaper.

At that moment, a strange, alluring scent wafted into his nose, like sunshine, rain, and woodsmoke, with a hint of something sweet that even his keen nose couldn't quite place. A second later, the scent was gone.

How strange.

"Very well. Make preparations for our guest and ensure he gets the full Phantomhive welcome," Ciel said, finishing his tea and tart and flipping to the most interesting story in the newspaper. "And have all the hedges trimmed and the flowers in the garden replaced with something more presentable, they look positively ghastly."

"Of course, young master. A Phantomhive butler who couldn't handle such a small task wouldn't be worth his salt," Sebastian replied, genteel as ever. Of course he wouldn't flinch at such an outlandish request, but he did wonder what it would take to see the demon squirm.

How infuriating.

Once his morning tea was finished, Sebastian led Ciel to the changing room adjacent to his bedroom. "It bothers me that we've gone so long without correspondence from Her Majesty," Ciel mused. "Things are so frightfully dull in between."

"Careful, young master, that makes it sound like you don't want the title you so viciously fought for," Sebastian replied, slipping Ciel's shirt over the boy's slight frame.

"We both know why we're here, do we not?"

Sebastian chuckled. "Forgive me, it's simply unlike you to grouse about your position."

"Spare me the lecture," Ciel chided. As Sebastian deftly tied the bow around his throat, he thought he heard the demon sniff. "What are you doing?"

Sebastian met his steely gaze, keeping that smirking look he always wore on his face. "Nothing at all, my lord."

Ciel scrutinized the beast-turned-butler in front of him. He himself noticed that scent from before lingering softly in the air. Had one of the windows been left open?

All throughout his Latin lesson, Ciel felt... different.

Kingcraft was easy enough to grasp, and Mr. Hughes was a fine instructor. But shortly after Mr. Westley began his lesson, it became increasingly harder to concentrate on the instructor's droning for long periods of time. Translations that would've normally been child’s play required an effort that he wasn't used to. Sweat beaded on his brow the longer this went on. He rested his head on his hand to try and parse through the passage on the page in front of him.

His hand came away damp.

So. Sebastian had cut corners and overfed the fires. Ciel clenched his fist. He would make him regret that.

Once Mr. Westley left for the day, Ciel summoned his butler, who appeared moments later by his side. "Sebastian, I do not recall ordering you to burn the fires this high," Ciel said. "Dampen them down immediately."

"Of course," Sebastian said, bowing obediently. That strange scent wafted past as the demon passed him. Ciel's eyes never left Sebastian as he carried on snuffing the fire in the library.

"I want something sweet. Make me some pudding. I want it here in no less than 20 minutes," Ciel commanded.

He smiled as Sebastian's eyebrow twitched, no doubt trying to maintain a measured countenance. "Right away, my lord."

Once Sebastian left the library, Ciel threw himself back into his chair. Surely some idle time would help to cool him down.

Idle time, however, didn't seem to want anything to do with him. Ciel sighed and stood, browsing through the books listlessly. He pulled down several of his favorites and brought them back to the desk. 

They'd surely be more engaging than dusty old Latin tomes that were one stiff breeze away from crumbling to dust.

The words on the page just muddled together. He stood and retrieved more books, simpler ones this time, as well as several issues of Punch.

Each endeavor quashed his sanity just a little more. "This damnable temperature..." Ciel grumbled, scratching at his wrists and the juncture of his neck and shoulder. If this was how it was going to be, maybe he stood a better chance on the floor. He detoured briefly to the nearest guest room for a pillow, returning to throw it under the desk. No sense in making his ass hurt. He moved his books carefully, arranging them into a wall under the desk, cocooning himself inside.

Despite the minor increase in temperature, he found himself oddly... calm. Like this was somehow the correct move. Ciel hummed softly. Perhaps now he'd be able to focus a little better? He picked up one of the issues of Punch, thumbing idly to a story he remembered enjoying.

"What the devil..." Ciel mumbled. Though it was still more difficult to read than normal, words weren't flying in one ear and out the other anymore.

Ciel didn't know how long it had been when Sebastian knocked at the library door. "Enter," Ciel shouted, not bothering to move or even look at the demon in his door.

The sharp staccato of leather soles on hardwood clicked steadily closer to him. "Young master?" came Sebastian's puzzled voice.

"Down here," Ciel coolly replied.

Sebastian peeked his head under the desk, one eyebrow raised. "This is certainly an interesting choice of seating arrangements. Do we need to have your chair reupholstered?" he asked.

Before Ciel could reply, that damnably sweet and earthy odor hit his nose. He narrowed his eyes at Sebastian. "Sebastian, I don't recall giving you permission to wear cologne."

"My lord?"

"Cologne. Surely you've been in this world long enough to know what that is."

"Of course, but I've—"

"Is my pudding ready?" Ciel interrupted impatiently.

Sebastian helped the young earl out of the mess of books and said, "As you requested, I have prepared a treacle sponge pudding with caramelized sugar and candied orange peel."

Ciel walked right past the delicious looking dessert and toward the door. "Bring my tea outside to the greenhouse. The heat is still much too oppressive in here. And Sebastian?" Ciel said pausing in the doorway. He turned back and glared at Sebastian. "Take that cologne off at once."

He didn't linger to see Sebastian's reaction.

A pity.

He might've noticed Sebastian's sheer delight at the "nest" he'd made and heard him remark about just how much fun this was going to be.

Something wasn't right.

Being outside in the early April frost felt far more heavenly than it ought to in Ciel's estimation. Though he was dressed in shorts and silk stockings, he didn't feel even the slightest chill run through him all throughout morning tea. And if he ordered Sebastian to move some of the taller potted plants closer to him, the butler made no remark about it.

The real issue came with violin lessons.

Ciel knew that, by all appearances, having his lessons outside would send alarms up to not only the instructor, but his servants, too. He simply couldn’t afford such scrutiny. Reluctantly, so very reluctantly, he re-entered the boiling manor.

By the time he'd struggled through one of Bach's violin concertos, the fire beneath his skin neared the point where, should an egg be cracked on his arm, it would sizzle. He threw the window open, panting and sweating buckets, leaning out into the glorious cold. At least the garden looked in top form. Finny waved and shouted happily from down below, and Ciel halfheartedly waved back.

Something was definitely wrong with him.

Even after Sebastian extinguished the fire in the study, the blasted heat was still stifling enough to make breathing more difficult. The window wasn't cutting it. Damn it all, would he have to spend the whole day outside?

Before he could make it past the study door, however, Sebastian stepped in front of him. "Young master—"

"I'm going outside," Ciel said, trying to keep his countenance stable. "And cancel my afternoon meeting. I'm in no mood to play host today."

"That won't be possible, my lord, Mr. Pemberton's carriage just arrived," Sebastian reported.

Ciel put his head in his hand, carding the hair off the left side of his face with a grimace. "You can't be serious. He's early?"

"I'm afraid so, my lord," said Sebastian.

Ciel narrowed his eyes. “Is this somehow your doing?”

Sebastian crossed his arm over his chest, a devilish grin on his face. “Why, I merely assured that your day is as eventful as you wished it, my lord.” If Ciel didn't know better, he would almost mistake Sebastian's sudden change in expression for concern. The butler leaned in closer to him. "You appear feverish," he said, reaching for Ciel's forehead.

Sebastian can't find out about this! "No!" Ciel slapped his hand away, wincing as that alluring smell stoked the flames scorching him from the inside out. "No, I— I'm fine, Sebast—"

The demon squished his cheeks, forcibly holding him in his condescending garnet gaze. "Young master, you're soaked through to the bone. I fear I must insist you at least allow me to change your clothes." Ciel just glared, knowing his face was telling far too much with his reddened cheeks and hazy eyes. Sebastian's forceful hand, though it didn't hurt him, was still uncomfortably tight on his face. His clothes were indeed soaked through with sweat and he desperately wanted out of them, but the smell, Sebastian, that absolute hellfire...

With a small, impudent snort, Ciel finally said, "Fine. We must be quick, have Tanaka show our guest to the drawing room. Now unhand me."

With a smile, Sebastian released him and said, "Come, then, my lord."

Ciel trudged down the hall toward his dressing room, half in a daze. It took everything in him not to flinch as his drenched suit was removed, or at the brush of a fine cotton towel over his skin, or that maddening cologne Sebastian had yet to take off. Worse yet, this new outfit Sebastian dressed him in, a green pinstripe suit coat, matching short pants and bow, felt even warmer than the previous one. If he didn't know Sebastian, he might've thought it a mistake made in ignorance.

Ignorance did not become a beast-turned-butler.

Ciel had to think. What had happened to him today that was different?

"Sebastian, what exactly was in the tea you prepared this morning?" Ciel asked accusingly.

Sebastian quirked a brow. "Assam and Ceylon teas, if you recall," he answered.

"No, there was something else. Something spiced."

Sebastian thought for a moment, making a spectacle of it by putting his thumb and forefinger to his chin in several different arrangements before tapping the pinky edge of his right fist into the open palm of his left hand. "Ah, yes, I believe the proprietor mentioned a spice blend sourced from India," he said, "that contained cinnamon bark and star anise."

"That blend is most disagreeable," Ciel grumbled.

"Is that so?" Sebastian mused, not sounding concerned in the slightest.

If only his thoughts weren't so scrambled, Ciel might've interrogated him further about this delicate matter that he seemed all too pleased by. Perhaps this was another "practical joke," like when Sebastian thought it pertinent to stuff a bunch of cats into his armoire?

The drawing room door quickly approached. Ciel put more effort into striding along normally, expertly schooling his expression into something more cool and confident than he felt. "Sebastian, bring up the same tea for our guest as you served me this morning and prepare lunch as quickly as possible, something to be eaten cold."

"My lord." Sebastian bowed and opened the door for him, and Ciel strode through into what immediately felt like an oven. Thankfully, he barely flinched at the onslaught. "Mr. Pemberton," he announced, "thank you for coming. I bid you welcome to my home. I trust your ride here was pleasant and my servants have treated you well?"

Mr. Pemberton, a squat, middle-aged man whose sandy hair was greying at the temples, stood and smiled at Ciel, striding towards him quickly. "Ah, Earl Phantomhive! Wonderful to see you, lad!" he exclaimed, reaching out a hand that Ciel graciously shook. "You'll have to forgive my being late, we ran into a spat of trouble in town."

Late?? The bloke was four hours early! "Think nothing of it," Ciel coolly replied, hoping that eye twitch was in his head. "What kept you?"

Mr. Pemberton huffed. "Well you see, one of the factory workers had a bit of an accident. In fact, that's very nearly why I came to speak with you today, my boy."

"Is that so?" Ciel strode over to the small table he used for games. "Care to discuss it over a game of chess?"

"I would expect nothing less," Mr. Pemberton replied, joining him at the table and practically flopping into his seat.

Though he was barely in a mood for games himself, Ciel followed suit and moved to sit down. As soon as his rear touched the chair, however, electric fire shot up through him from his nether regions, and before he could stop it, he let out the most pathetic mewling sound. Mr. Pemberton gawked at him, wide-eyed. He had to think fast.

"My apologies, I was merely surprised by an errant spring on this chair," Ciel explained, only the tiniest quaver in his voice at the end.

Mr. Pemberton didn't look entirely convinced, but he settled back down. "Of... course."

"White moves first," said Ciel, gesturing to the board. "If you please, Mr. Pemberton."

"Oh yes," Mr. Pemberton said, moving one of his pawns. "Now, about that young man—"

Ciel moved one of his pawns in turn, doing his best to feign engagement in this conversation. Were the walls spinning...?

"—serious oversights in—"

He gripped the arms of the chair as nonchalantly as possible, moving his rook.

"—our profit margins will—"

Nausea began to settle between his ribs. Why was the damned room moving??

"—Phantomhive?"

Ciel snapped abruptly back, still reeling, but steeling himself once more. I am in control. "Yes, Mr. Pemberton, I agree that worker safety is indeed paramount. I trust you have a proposal to amend the issues?"

Mr. Pemberton nodded, leaning forward in his chair. "Precisely. Now I know Funtom prides itself on having the most cutting-edge technology and manufacturing, so—"

The door opened suddenly and Sebastian stepped through. "Pardon me, my lord, but tea is ready." He wheeled the tea-laden cart up to the table, pouring hot water over the tea strainer.

That flaming scent was nearly strong enough to nearly bowl Ciel over as soon as Sebastian came within a meter of him.

"Luncheon will be ready soon," Sebastian said, bowing deferentially. Those bestial eyes sparkled when they met Ciel's. He held his breath as covertly as he could until Sebastian disappeared back through the door.

Ciel couldn't take this much longer.

Belatedly, he watched as Mr. Pemberton sipped the tea. "Mmm, this flavor is so exotic," he mused, taking another few sips.

Ciel tried to get his breathing under control. "Yes, it's from a popular new merchant in Chelsea. I've heard the proprietor blends his own tea leaves based on the customer's tastes." He definitely wasn't about to spill that he was testing this tea out on the man.

"Never let it be said that the Earl Phantomhive has poor taste," Mr. Pemberton praised. "Now as I was saying, the solution I have come up with will not cut into your profit margin—"

The steam curling up from the ornate teacup wrapped around Ciel tightly, choking him from the inside out. Still, like a puppet on a string, he pantomimed being able to follow along with this conversation. Mr. Pemberton was one of the few he generally trusted to run Funtom's factory.

Seconds dilated to hours. Mr. Pemberton's droning slowed to an unintelligible mass of sounds.

Ciel was barely a hair’s breadth from puking or passing out or both, not necessarily in that order.

He felt it coming for him.

He felt those deplorable, enrapturing garnet eyes searing into his very soul.

He felt that aggravating, mesmerizing scent stinging around every square inch of skin like a jellyfish' tentacles.

Through the blasted haze, he realized that Sebastian was standing right next to him, looking at him with one brow quirked.

"My lord?"

"Sebastian, please take our guest to the dining hall at once," Ciel said, slurring more than he would've cared to admit. "I will follow momentarily."

Sebastian bowed. "Of course. Mr. Pemberton, if you would please follow me."

Ciel didn't miss the concerned, confused glance Mr. Pemberton gave as he left the room with Sebastian. He knew this was a breach of hospitality, but he could barely keep himself in check. As soon as the door clicked shut, Ciel scrambled to the window, but his own feet refused to do exactly as they were told, making him as awkward as a newborn fawn. His hands shook too much and were far too sweaty to work the latch properly. "Damn it all!" he cried.

He stumbled out of the study and through the halls holding onto the walls for dear life. The halls stretched and shifted uncomfortably around him, and it felt like the floor had turned into the shifting sea. Bile rose in the back of his throat. He slapped a hand over his mouth and stood there, looking at the floor until he could bite back the urge to vomit.

Sebastian found him there, swaying, white-knuckling the wall with his other hand over his mouth. So much for keeping this from the beast...

"Young master, you are in no condition to be entertaining presently. Please allow me to—"

"I'm fi... fine," Ciel interrupted, staggering closer to the dining hall. "I need my," he bit down the urge to vomit again, "I, I need my walking stick."

Sebastian quickly closed the gap between them with only a few measured strides. He leaned in to block Ciel where he was, trying to peer through him no doubt. "Perseverance is indeed a virtue, but outright ignorance does not become you, young master," Sebastian said, a somewhat condescending edge to his voice. His own gloved hand covered Ciel's, still covering his mouth. The demon brushed the boy's trembling fingers aside, outlining his bottom lip reverently. Ciel stutteringly panted.

That sweet, earthy ichor seeped through Sebastian's glove, coating wherever it touched in musky heaven and igniting this haze into a raging inferno. All thought left his head as Sebastian's hand trailed down, over his chin, his throat, briefly caressing the junction of his neck and shoulder beneath his shirt, before guiding Ciel's own hand down to something cool, hard, and metallic.

Slowly, Ciel blinked and looked at what had made its way into his grasp.

His cane.

Mr. Pemberton.

He was in the middle of... something.

What... what was happening to him...?

"Come now, my lord, surely you've not forgotten where the dining hall in your own manor is?" Sebastian chided.

Sebas...

Sebastian. He knew what this was.

The words felt foreign in his mouth. "What's happening to me..."

"You're in the middle of a meeting with Mr. Pemberton," Sebastian replied.

He must've gotten tired of waiting for Ciel to do something; before Ciel even had time to register what was happening, he had already been carried down the stairs. "Would you prefer I carry you to your chair, young master?"

Ciel could barely piece the words, "No, I can walk," together.

Sebastian smirked. "Very well, my lord." He moved to set Ciel down. The beast's gloved hand slid up the length of his thigh as he deposited his shaky legs on the ground. Ciel brokenly shrieked as that gloved hand passed against his sensitive backside, every nerve firing at once from that one radial point.

Ciel heard footsteps running toward him.

"Is everything alright? We heard a scream, we did!" Mey Rin said.

"It sounded like the young master!" cried Finny. "What's going on?"

Ciel had to get it together. But everything sounded tinny, echoing oddly in his ears. "I assure you," he started, but couldn't find the rest of the words.

Sebastian took over. "It was merely a false alarm. I'm afraid my handling of the young master was not as careful as he required."

If only he could've growled without spewing everywhere or jammed his heel into Sebastian's foot without toppling... Heavy footsteps came closer, and Ciel finally turned toward his servants.

"He looks like he ran a marathon," came Bardroy's gruff voice.

"He looks feverish, he does," Mey Rin agreed.

"Hoh, hoh, hoh," Tanaka added.

"Young master," Finny said, stepping closer to Ciel, "you're all covered in sweat."

He weakly held up his hand. "I'm fine," he said, forcing his mouth to make the right sounds. He leaned most of his weight on his cane, hobbling his way to the door of the dining hall.

"You need rest, young master!" Mey Rin said, stepping in front of the door with her arms outspread.

Ciel just shook his head. "Ca... can't."

"Mey Rin, if you would please open the door for the young master," said Sebastian.

Mey Rin gasped. "But Mr. Sebastian—"

"The young master has decided to see his prior engagement through, no matter the cost. We cannot stand in the way."

Mey Rin's brows knit together, twitching so furiously that Ciel was surprised a scarf didn't start growing from them. Reluctantly, she opened the door and Ciel wobbled his way to his place at the table.

The steam from the hot soup bowled him into his chair, causing him to cry out as his most sensitive areas made contact with something solid once more.

"Earl Phantomhive!" Mr. Pemberton cried. "My boy, what's happened? Are you hurt?"

That last impact knocked out what words remained inside his head. The room was spinning so hard now that Ciel had to clutch onto the chair to keep from falling out of it.

"You'll have to forgive the young lord," Sebastian said, carefully pouring water into Mr. Pemberton's cup. "Even when taken ill, he is still so brazenly determined to ensure his guests are taken care of personally."

"I should say so, but no amount of business is worth the poor boy's health!" Mr. Pemberton said.

"That is very kind of you, Mr. Pemberton. The young master would expect nothing less of his foremost foreman and Funtom's chief safety officer," Sebastian said.

"Ensuring the health and safety of all Funtom workers, even our very founder, is of the utmost importance," Mr. Pemberton explained, then turned to Ciel. "I'll return at a later date to discuss the matter with you, Earl Phantomhive. Please get some rest, and godspeed to your recovery, lad."

As Mr. Pemberton turned to leave, Ciel weakly grabbed at his sleeve. "St... stay," he managed.

"But Earl, you've barely the strength to speak!"

"'M fine," Ciel rasped. He'd demonstrate just how fine he was. He grabbed his soup spoon inelegantly in his fist and managed to dip it into the bowl. What soup he'd gotten into the spoon started spilling over the sides with how unsteady his hand was. What little he got down his throat scalded him all the way down.

That was the last straw.

Ciel tried to get up. He tried to run. Tried to save his dignity. His legs wouldn't listen and neither would his stomach. He fell hard to his elbows and knees on the floor, vomiting what felt like pure liquid fire onto the marble floor. In the midst of it all, he heard muffled shouts and the suggestion of running footsteps all around him. A high pitched buzzing deafened him. Black tinged the edges of his vision.

Once more, Ciel was surrounded by that nauseating, life-giving scent. Without thinking, he burrowed his face into the source of it, taking heaping lungfulls of the only thing anchoring him to this plane of existence. He clung to it, wanting to melt into it and never come back.

All too soon, he was ripped away from it and immersed in cold. Sizzling, glorious, dastardly cold, the kind of cold that conflicted his desires. After a moment, he started to surface out of confusion, realizing that he was also literally surfacing in his bathtub.

Tiny, solid lumps bumped against his skin, chilling it just a tiny bit more. Ice?

Ciel blinked, staring at the ceiling for a moment before trying to sit up. The scent was still there, still strong, but not desperately clawing its way into Ciel's chest as it had before.

Sebastian...

"Ah, you've awakened, my lord." Sebastian's voice drifted over the edge of the tub, honey-sweet in Ciel's ears.

Ciel gripped the side of the tub and pulled himself up to a proper sitting position. There, right beside him, was Sebastian, peering at him with that devious glint. Ciel rubbed his face with one hand, relishing in the coolness of the water.

"You bastard," Ciel finally says, almost too softly to be heard. "You know exactly what humiliation has befallen me, don't you? You know why my body has been on fire."

Sebastian just smirked.

"Answer me, demon!"

"It could possibly be a few different ailments, but I can rule out one of them rather easily," Sebastian said.

"Then do so, now," Ciel commanded.

"The procedure is rather improper, my lord."

Ciel glared at the beast-turned-butler. "I don't care, I just want whatever this is to cease."

Sebastian's grin widened. "Very well then. You'll need to be dry first." The butler made quick work of standing Ciel up, toweling him dry, and setting him in the washroom chair.

"Please bear with me."

Sebastian took the cotton glove off his right hand finger by finger, setting it gently to the side. Ciel raised an eyebrow. Then Sebastian's hands were on Ciel's thighs, shoving his legs apart.

"What the devil are youaaAAA!" Ciel keened when Sebastian inserted a finger into his overstimulated vagina, wiggling it against his cervix.

Just as quickly as he'd entered, Sebastian withdrew the finger and examined it. A thin string of fluid still connected them. Sebastian hummed, rubbing the fluid between his fingers, sniffing, and finally touching his tongue to it.

"You lecherous beast, why have you defiled me so?!" Ciel choked out, crossing his legs tightly and glaring at this obscene demon.

Sebastian, not keen on backing down, stuck his entire finger in his mouth, cleaning the digit of Ciel's juices before wiping it on the towel. "I did warn you that it was improper, but my, I didn't realize you could make a sound like that, my lord."

Ciel hated that this vile touch made him squirm. He hated it more that he heated so quickly after. He hated it the most that he craved that touch again. "Enough with the games, Sebastian, now tell me what's wrong with me you vile beast! That is an order!"

"But of course, young master," Sebastian said with a smirk. "I was hoping to preserve the mystery awhile longer, but I suppose this is an equally gratifying happenstance."

Ciel, though he so desperately wanted to punish this lecher for his impudence, climbed back into the tub, angling his rear away from the demon. "Did I not just order you to tell me?" he growled.

Sebastian smiled that cheshire cat's smile, putting the same finger that was covered in Ciel's slick up to his lip. "It is a bit strange, but put simply, my lord, your cervix being soft and mildly dilated indicates your body is preparing to conceive in a most interesting way."

Ciel blinked at him owlishly.

"Are you seriously," he started quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose, "trying to tell me this is PUBERTY?!"

Sebastian's eyes widened. Then, without warning, he burst into a fit of laughter that nearly knocked him over.

Ciel didn't even know demons could laugh, much less be so raucously floored by something considered so mundane, but here he was, barely able to contain himself enough to stay upright. "And just what is so amusing, beast?" Ciel bit, nearing his wits end for an entirely different reason. His jaw was starting to hurt from how hard he clenched it.

It took another moment for Sebastian to finally break away from his fit. He sat back up, wiping his eyes with the back of his still-gloved hand. "You must forgive my impertinence, my lord, but what you're experiencing is far from what you humans associate with physical maturation."

"Excuse me?" Ciel said. "If it's not that, then what. Is. It. Sebastian?"

"Put simply, what you're experiencing is more akin to what you might call a heat," Sebastian explained.

What. "What." That had to be impossible.

"I suppose you were a bit young for your parents to explain to you how animals procreate," Sebastian mused, thumb and forefinger to his chin.

"That's not the problem!" Ciel childishly shouted. Sebastian turned his fiery gaze back to Ciel, seeing straight through him. "The problem is that this should be impossible."

Sebastian chuckled. "Yes, for normal humans, it is impossible. But you're not quite a 'normal human' anymore, my lord." He neatly removed the glove from his left hand, exposing the contract and holding it up to Ciel's dumbfounded gaze. "Our contract binds us together until its terms come to fruition. If the contract is in place long enough, however, the human contractee takes on more, shall we say, demonic qualities? Not quite either being, but something in the middle."

Ciel just sat there blankly. He thought he'd be ready for every eventuality. Every challenge would be met head on. But this... what was he supposed to do with himself?

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Ciel brokenly said.

"I assumed your revenge would've been complete far before this was even a possibility. It is most unusual for it to happen this soon, but especially in a child."

Ciel held his face in his hands. "How do we stop it?"

"There is only one way to get rid of a heat, my lord."

Ciel blushed furiously, eyes widened, and shrunk away from Sebastian. "You cannot mean—"

Sebastian smirked that infuriating smirk and Ciel wanted nothing more than to smack it off his face. "You know I cannot lie to you, young master," he purred.

That scent was beginning to get overwhelming again. Ciel covered his nose with his hand, careful not to pinch it. "You're depraved! I refuse to debase myself like this. And I thought I told you to take that cologne off!" he growled.

Sebastian put his hands up in mock-deferrence. "My lord, I have nothing on my person which you haven't permitted. You've simply taken notice of my pheromonal excretions."

"Then get away from me!" Ciel cried, splashing water at Sebastian, who wouldn't give up that look of his. "You're the one causing this, so leave!"

Despite Ciel's ministrations, Sebastian kept smirking, getting up to leave. "Very well, young master." As soon as he made it to the door, he added, "But it won't help you for me to leave."

The door softly closed and once again, Ciel was alone.

Alone in a bathtub with water that was now steaming.

Alone with what remained of his thoughts.

Heat would imply pregnancy.

He hugged his knees to his chest. He couldn't do that. Wouldn't do that no matter how much this heat hurt!

A soft knock on the door startled him. Tanaka stepped through with a bucket of ice chips. "My lord, Mr. Sebastian tells me this is the remedy for your ailment?"

Ciel nodded. "It's merely a fever," he lied.

"A high one if this is needed," Tanaka agreed. "You've given us all quite a fright." He gingerly offloaded the ice into the tub, being careful to avoid placing it directly on Ciel's skin. Ever the proper butler...

"Please forget it," Ciel said. He knew he looked pathetic, small and shrunken in the water like a child who had been scolded for sneaking sweets.

Ciel felt a gentle hand on top of his head. "My lord, you have entrusted the care of this manor and yourself to us. We cannot afford to be remiss if your health is at stake," Takana said solemnly. "Any servant of the Phantomhive household that is wouldn't be fit for their position." The hand was replaced by a cool cloth.

Ciel hummed. "You're right," he said, peering into the man's wizened eyes without turning his head. "I suppose that's why I need you."

Tanaka just smiled. "It does this old man's heart good to know you would entrust yourself to us." He left the washroom.

Ciel gathered some of the ice in his hands, putting them under the cloth Tanaka placed on his head. He let out the breath he'd been holding. If he could just stay in this bathtub for... well, he didn't know exactly how long these things lasted for. At least the next few days, then he could make it through this heat.

The water was already warm again.

"Damn it all," Ciel said, pushing the few remaining ice chunks around in the water.

Thankfully, Tanaka reappeared with another bucketful, striding over gracefully. He paused when he spied the water. "Where did..."

"It melted."

Tanaka's eyes widened. "Young master, a fever this pronounced requires the help of a physician. I will send for one immediately," he said, emptying the bucket into the tub.

"Don't!" Ciel pleaded, grabbing the butler's sleeve. "Please, I cannot have anyone else outside the manor see me in such a state."

"Young master," Tanaka chided.

"I've already suffered such an embarrassment today in front of a guest, please... I don't want anyone else to, to, to," Ciel sniveled, angling his head down so that the steam made his eyes water a little. He dramatically revealed his very teary eyes to Tanaka. "I don't want anyone else!"

Takana's worried expression melted slightly, but didn't leave. He sighed. "You truly are your father's son," he reluctantly conceded. "I will keep delivering your ice, my lord."

"Th-thank you, Takana," he blubbered.

Tanaka left once more, and Ciel's expression returned to normal. No human doctor would know what to do with him. Even worse, who would stop them from divulging the secret of his gender to the first person who asked?

No, the only person Ciel could count on to get him through this was himself.

And also Tanaka.

And ice. Lots of ice.

Ciel could make it through this on his own! He wouldn't be weighed down with responsibilities he wasn't ready to accept. And he sure as HELL wouldn't dare to ask Sebastian for his help with this.

Ciel desperately needed to ask Sebastian for his help with this.

Somewhere after the 20th ice bucket, he dismissed Tanaka from running all this ice. It was far too strenuous on the old man, and the ice started exploding into steam as soon as it hit the water or him. Spending days on end in here were no longer an option.

His next plan should've worked! Though he'd promised himself he would never break his seal again, it was the only option short of having Sebastian deal with this problem. But even his deft fingers couldn't assuage the fire within him, nor could any hysteria tool. They only stoked this maddening heat further. His last line of defense was all for nothing.

Which left nothing but the failsafe plan he dreaded. He had to bite back his revulsion.

There on his bed, naked ass up in the air, covered in tears and his own fluids, he tore off his eyepatch. The contract in his right iris lit up a fiery amethyst as he called out, "Sebastian!"

That exquisite perfume graced his nostrils instantly as Sebastian appeared behind him, the light of a candlestick softly glowing in the twilight darkness of his room.

"Get it over with," Ciel commanded wetly, glad that the demon couldn't see his frustration tears.

Sebastian closed the small gap between them, resting an uncharacteristically gentle hand on his right buttock. "'It,' young master? I'm afraid you'll need to be more specific."

Ciel growled, clenching the quilt of his bed. Again with that damnable attitude. Blast him... "You were practically chomping at the bit to do something about this earlier, you know exactly what I'm talking about!"

"Perhaps, but if you don't order me more specifically, my lord, how can I be expected to fulfill your request to your liking?" Sebastian teased.

Roaring in frustration, Ciel got up on his hands and knees, pivoting to look Sebastian in the eye, and sobbed, "This is an order, Sebastian, make it stop! I don't care what you have to do, just end this heat!! I can't take it anymore!"

Sebastian's eyes burned fiercely red as the demon smirked, showing off his delicately sharpened teeth. He reverently moved his tongue over every syllable of, "Yes, my lord." Shadows erupted from behind and beneath him, covering the room in inky darkness, save for the light of Sebastian's eyes and a single candlestick.

Sebastian flipped Ciel from his hands and knees onto his back, spreading his legs wide. With one hand, he unhooked his suspenders, modestly freeing himself from his trousers. With that done, Sebastian's hand neared Ciel's aching vulva.

"No," Ciel commanded, "take it all off. I shouldn't be the only one debased and humiliated like this."

Ever the obedient dog, Sebastian obliged him. With a snap of his fingers, his livery disappeared completely. "Shall I prepare you or would you rather I begin right away?"

"I don't care, just do something!"

"Very well, young master," Sebastian purred. "Do bear with me."

Ever so gently, Sebastian's fingers traced the outline of Ciel's genitals, massaging his thumbs upwards over the folds of his labia. As they crested, Sebastian teased at his clit, barely brushing the overly-sensitive bundle of nerves. Ciel cried at the touch, still burning white-hot with even the barest glance. No doubt the demon relished any excuse to cause him pain.

"Oh my," Sebastian cooed. "A touch overstimulated are we, my lord?" Before Ciel could answer, Sebastian's hot breath was over his most sensitive areas, his tongue searing around his clit and around his entrance, back and forth in a maddening spiral. 

"I thought this wa-AH!" He yelped as two fingers pushed inside him. They may as well have been knives. "I thought this was supposed to help!" Ciel said, white-knuckling the bedspread.

Sebastian didn't stop, but did spare him a quizzical look. Oh how this demon vexed him...

"Mmm, I suppose I could offer some repose. I've been told it's rather uncomfortable when a mating couple starts this far into a heat," Sebastian mused. He offered Ciel his wrist. That delicious aroma intensified. "If you please, young master, bite down here."

Ciel smirked. "Happily," he said, chomping down hard.

Sebastian didn't even flinch, just raised an eyebrow in amusement. All at once, Ciel's senses collided into a vivid tapestry of experiences. Cherries and cinnamon and sunshine and rain and woodsmoke flooded his mouth and nose, while a kaleidoscope of sumptuous reds and purples danced behind his eyelids. The fire beneath his skin cooled into a pleasant warmth that tingled and radiated out from his aching pussy. He latched onto Sebastian's wrist more gingerly now, more like a suckling infant than a vengeful Earl. He wanted more. Needed more.

Sebastian's probing fingers and expert tongue worked quickly to get him to the thin edge of rapture. All too soon, that tongue was replaced with a finger. Ciel felt sharp teeth pierce between his neck and shoulder, and with a guttural cry, he was cumming hard from the concerto of sensations.

His whole body spasmed through his orgasm, calming back down after a few seconds, mouth dripping with Sebastian's blood.

But...

That heat.

It sat untouched in his core.

"Wh... why isn't it stopping?" Ciel moaned. "Shouldn't completion have stopped it??"

Sebastian licked his lips slowly, as if savoring Ciel's blood. "My lord, how much do you understand about a heat cycle?"

Ciel didn't answer.

"I thought as much. No, heats aren't over with only a single orgasm. The goal is to ensure that you propagate, not that you are pleased," Sebastian explained. "Now that you have been adequately prepared, we may begin the 'main event.'"

Ciel's stomach sank. He wasn't prepared to have children! Or demons or whatever came from an unholy union between demon and man. "What if I ignore it?"

Sebastian feigned hurt at that. "It seems a waste to quit now that we've come so far, young master. If you're set on it, however, you'll simply go back to how you were before in two weeks' time, but that goes directly against what you ordered of me. Regretfully, I am unable to oblige your ignorance of this matter." He towered over Ciel, gently caressing his cheek. "But I know you won't renege, my vengeful little lord. Otherwise, what would all your fighting have been for? What would her Majesty think of her guard dog whenever he is unable to perform his duties?"

Ciel hated when Sebastian was right.

He knew he couldn't take a whole two weeks of this torture. He knew that he wasn't the kind of person to ever back down, even when he had to put himself on the line. He also knew that no matter what happened, Sebastian would be there.

He was always there.

His vengeance was always there.

Duty took precedence.

Vengeance took precedence.

Ciel's gaze met Sebastian's. "Fine," he said.

Sebastian smiled hungrily. Black flames obscured parts of his outline. "Excellent." He unsheathed his cock, and Ciel gasped at the sight, his stomach sinking as he took it in. It was long, tapered unnaturally at the tip and a dark red that faded to his skin tone, with barbs that ran down the length of it.

Before Ciel could change his mind, Sebastian ran the tip over his slicked cunt once, twice, before it found the edge of his vagina. Ciel felt full as the head of his cock slid inside him. It stretched him wider and wider, back arching higher as one row of spines after the next entered, until he felt so unbelievably full that he might burst. Sebastian's tip pressed hard against his pliant cervix.

That fire beneath his skin evaporated.

"You'll have to forgive me, my lord, but your heat seems to have triggered a rut. I won't be able to hold back for long." Those black tongues of flame grew more insistent.

"I don't remember ordering you to," Ciel responded, smiling cheekily.

Sebastian looked genuinely shocked, unmoving for a moment. "It will be intense, my lord."

"I don't care."

"It will be excruciating."

"I don't. Care."

"You will never be the same—"

Ciel grasped him by the shoulders and shouted, "Bloody hell, Sebastian, just move!"

Sebastian gripped Ciel's thighs tightly, growling out his pleasure as he said, "Yes, my lord," and started thrusting harder and faster than any human into Ciel.

Those eviscerating spines painfully spurred Ciel's pleasure on to a degree he didn't know he could feel. Unconsciously, he moved his hips against Sebastian's, forcing him deeper with every move. He wanted Sebastian to kiss the very back of his womb with his cock, wanted him so deep that neither of them could be taken apart again.

Ciel bit down on his own hand as came once more, convulsing against the punishing pace Sebastian was intent on keeping. Pleasure quickly turned to overstimulation. "Se--Sebastian!" Ciel cried, digging his nails into the demon's shoulder.

Sebastians hands, now clawed and black as night, slid over Ciel's thighs and up around his hips, leaving pinstripe cuts over his tender flesh. The demon rammed Ciel's hips against his own, pushing far through his cervix with every stroke. "My— lord! Please prepare yourself!" Those barbs raked the unmarred flesh around his cervix relentlessly until Sebastian's thrusts stuttered suddenly.

The spines on Sebastian's cock engorged, puncturing Ciel's walls, and unloaded pure liquid fire straight into his womb. The sensation was enough to make Ciel cum again with a wail, clinging onto Sebastian for dear life.

Once Ciel had ridden his orgasm out, he asked, "Is... is it done?"

Sebastian, who had yet to quit spilling, chuckled and smoothed the sweat-slicked hair out of Ciel's face. Even still, Ciel had a hard time parsing where Sebastian ended and the dark cocoon containing their unholy union began. "Oh young master," he said, clawed finger gently raking a thin scratch down Ciel's cheek, "we've barely begun."

Though he was still pumping cum into Ciel, Sebastian picked him up off the bed without disconnecting them, settling Ciel into a sitting position in his arms.

"Do you ever falter?" Ciel rasped.

Blackfire crept toward him in long, filamentous tendrils. "A Phantomhive butler wouldn't be worth his salt if he faltered."

Ciel chuckled. "Cheeky bastard."

Sebastian shut him up by shoving that appendage of inky flame down his throat, choking Ciel from the inside. He felt another bully its way into his completely unprepared asshole. He screamed around the oddly solid tendril. It felt like he was being torn in two, what with the only lubrication being what blood and vaginal fluid dripped over it.

Ciel flailed wildly with the lack of oxygen, but Sebastian held firm. The spines retracted out of Ciel's pussy, and Sebastian made like he was going to pull out of him completely until slamming Ciel back down ruthlessly.

Ciel felt like a ragdoll as Sebastian beat their hips together with that same fervor as he'd shown in the first round. The edges of Ciel's vision tinged with black and he could feel himself weakening. Pleasurable heat coiled deep in his stomach. Seeming to sense this, the tendril obstructing his airway mercilessly ripped itself from his throat, leaving his face covered in his own saliva and Sebastian's drying blood. Ciel gasped and coughed and came again from the barrage.

Sebastian, however, delighted in tormenting him. Ciel's pleasure quickly turned painful as Sebastian fucked him right back into overstimulation. That blasted tendril forced its way back down his throat. Ciel didn't stop fighting the intrusion, not even when the lack of air threatened to steal his consciousness. Instead of retracting at a critical point, however, it only shifted its position enough to allow a bit of air in. Ciel took what he could before the damned thing wormed its way deeper inside him.

Belatedly, he realized those barbs were engorging again, his stomach bloating a little further from the sheer amount of spend Sebastian was pumping into him. The lack of air and the scent of blood and pheromones and musk clouded Ciel's mind into pleasurable numbness.

After that, Ciel wasn't sure how many times they'd changed position, how many times they came, or when Sebastian's fiery tentacle was removed from his mouth. His mind could only focus on what sensations passed through it, that pleasure followed by pain followed by pleasure.

He was on his shoulders and knees, ass in the air as Sebastian pounded into him.

He was on his back. His stomach was growing with all the cum sloshing around inside him.

On his side, leg hoisted up high. Sebastian didn't slow.

Ass in the air again. Two of those tendrils fought their way inside his ass.

He looked pregnant already as Sebastian unloaded inside him again.

And then, hours after agony and ecstasy, Sebastian was cradling Ciel gently, guiding his mouth to Sebastian's shoulder. "Bite."

Ciel bit. That same sweetness from before flooded his tongue again. Cherries and cinnamon. Sunshine and rain. Woodsmoke and damp earth. A harmonious cacophony that he wanted to get lost in. It was then that Sebastian pushed something huge into his wrecked pussy, stretching him impossibly. Ciel groaned as it burned it's way inside him, noticing that Sebastian's cock was seated much deeper inside Ciel than he'd ever been. Those spines hooked into him more fervently now, holding Sebastian in place against the very back of his womb. Sharp teeth pierced the raw flesh at the base of his neck again, and Ciel came once more, tiredly rocking in a pleasure that threatened to break him.

Was this what euphoria was?

For the first time in what must've been hours, Ciel took notice of Sebastian.

The demon was wrapped in black fire, shifting wildly as if he were struggling to maintain his corporeal form. The only things untouched were his softly glowing eyes and the cock latched comfortably inside Ciel.

After a moment, the darkness fell away from his manservant like a raven's feathers. Human-looking arms cradled him against Sebastian's chest. The cocoon around them retreated back to the shadows from where they came. Sebastian didn't let go of Ciel. Not even as he carried him into the bed or maneuvered Ciel so his head was on his pillow. Dawn's light streamed in through the windows.

Lucidity trickled in. Ciel blinked slowly. "What... is in me...?" Ciel rasped. His throat hurt.

Sebastian smiled at him. "It is my knot, my lord. It signals the end of both of our 'predicaments,'" he explained.

Ciel hummed softly, closing his eyes. "Good."

After another few minutes of silence, Ciel asked, "When exactly does it go away...?"

"Soon, young master."

"That's not a proper answer," Ciel said, taking a stray pillow and half-heartedly plopping it on Sebastian's head.

Sebastian, moved the pillow with that devious smile on his face. "Combative this morning, are we?"

"Only to demon butlers who refuse to answer their master's questions," Ciel softly grumbled, his blue and purple eyes fluttering.

Sebastian tutted. "I distinctly remember giving you the most truthful answer, my lord. The time it takes for a knot to shrink to flaccidity is mutable. It is completely dependent on external factors, specifically on the amount of bloodshed, the quantity of pheromones ingested, and perhaps most damningly, how bonded the mating couple is. Given my estimations, it should likely recede in no more than a half hour."

Ciel grumbled softly. "Fine," he mumbled and nuzzled into Sebastian's arms.

Sebastian was the only one he could trust. Ciel hated Sebastian. Ciel loved Sebastian. Ciel loved to pride Sebastian and to abuse him and above all else, Ciel needed Sebastian. More than food, more than air, more than vengeance. He would not and could not exist in a world devoid of his demon.

These thoughts clanked around in his skull as they lay there, still connected by their roots.

But one tiny, niggling concern lingered.

What did their actions make them now?

---

Sebastian wouldn't exactly call this a fetish of his.

Much unlike others of his kind, this was the first time he’d ever tampered with a heat cycle. He never understood how other demons could be so hapless with who and what they tried to breed with; it just made for a gory trail of corpses that likely would’ve made that slutty reaper gush. Sebastian supposed not everyone could possess his graces or his tastes for the finer things. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d sired before. But rarely did he get to breed his contractees. Even more rarely did he want to. But here he was, still hooked and knotted inside the only one he'd ever yearned for.

He gently ran his hand over the child's rounded stomach, then tousled his silken gray hair. The young master made a little chuffing sound, but did not protest. Sebastian softly hummed. When it came to this boy, well, he was certainly a range of firsts for Sebastian. This was not the original plan he'd had for the young master's soul.

Up to the day the young master formally assumed the title of Earl Phantomhive, Sebastian planned to savor the boy's soul as slowly as he could. Perhaps his body as well if his young master cared to oblige. Simple, sweet, to the point, and oh so delectable.

But then, the little lord did something that no one had ever done to Sebastian: he surprised him.

The day the boy stood in front of Sebastian in garb that was far too mature for him, proclaiming Sebastian as his sword and shield, Sebastian's priority changed from biding his time for a quick meal to cultivating the perfect food source. And if he had to speed things along just a little? Well, ten years turned two and a half was neither here nor there. The little earl was his little earl now, whether he realized it or not. Sebastian felt sure the boy suspected nothing until yesterday, when he could finally taste the true flavor of the substance in his tea. After all, Sebastian left little to be noticed.

No one noticed his absence for a few minutes in the wee hours of the morning. No one saw him brew the carefully measured mixture of blood, semen, pheromones, cinnamon, and aniseed over his candle nightly. No one saw him slip into the boy's chambers each evening to slip an eyedropper of his nightly brew into the boy's mouth as he slept. No one saw him carefully clean up the evidence long before his master woke. And no one saw him put a drop into the young master's teacup each morning. Even if they did, the other servants never questioned his authority.

Because the real treat, the culmination of Sebastian’s two-and-a-half years of work, came after. And yes, perhaps it had an extended “baking” time of another ten months, but what was that to him with the prospect of the choicest delicacies? The offspring of man and devil made a treat the likes of which made even the most depraved souls pale in comparison, in Sebastian's perfectly attuned opinion. Like veal or the tender meat of a suckling piglet would be to a human, he supposed. It was more a cannibalistic craving than a fetish, really.

Sebastian gently prodded at the bite marks on the base of his neck. Though pain was fairly meaningless to him, it was still a somewhat novel sensation. Different to anything else he'd ever experienced before. His little lord would never understand how intimate that gesture was or what power he now held over Sebastian. As his fingers roved over his own skin, he could feel his knot and barbs retracting. He ran his right hand over his young master’s gravid-looking belly, and sure enough, he sensed that his more than ample seed had found purchase twenty-two—no, twenty-three times. He smiled as his penis retracted fully from the boy.

As expected, the mattress quickly soaked through with blood and cum. The bedspread looked like a murder victim. The carpet would need to be cleaned extensively, too. He sighed softly. It couldn't be helped. Back to their game of charades with just one more thing to his extensive to-do list. But what was an extensive to-do list in the face of one such as he? After all, he was one hell of a butler.

The clock chimed 8.

“Oh dear, time for morning tea already… Pardon me young master, I am dreadfully behind,” Sebastian said, moving to get up on his elbow.

Ever the selfish one even in sleep, the little lord clung onto him possessively, digging his blunt little nails into Sebastian's back.

Sebastian chuckled. With a snap of his fingers, the room was spotless and his livery, minus his shoes, replaced just as crisp and clean as if he’d ironed them a minute ago. The little lord slept on, unknowingly dressed in his nightclothes as if nothing had happened. Perhaps, just this once, Sebastian could afford to let him indulge just a bit longer.

[saysbruh1]

WHAT THE FUCK IS EVEN THAT

[theblehthatbloos]

Me three minutes into watching the "new" evil dead:

"Man, the whole retreat is goin awry"

[certifiedcodbabygirl]

I need Simon Riley who realizes just how much he loves you when he has a night terror.

He shoots out of bed with a shout, quickly looking to your side just to see it empty. His heart quickens even faster, images of your dead body, blood pouring out of your mouth and ears, eyes frantic before they still and glaze over. Remembering the scream he lets out as he shakes you, begging you.

"Please, please don't fuckin leave, love. God, not you. Please, you promised!"

He's having a panic attack and before he even processes it, he's running to the bathroom. Throwing him head into the toilet bowl, puking everything up as if his entire body is rejecting the very possibility of you no longer being there. He can't stop the tears ripping out of him and his fast, suffocating breaths stinging his throat as if the vomit isn't even there.

He doesn't even register your hand on his back, your panicked calling out to him.

"Baby? Baby what's wrong? Please talk to me" You beg, brushing his hair back, trying to hold onto him.

His wide, tear filled eyes meet yours and he throws himself into your arms, holding onto you like a lifeline. His crying doesn't stop, the intense emotions still overwhelming his senses.

"God please never leave me. I swear to god I'll be the best for you. I'll keep you safe, nothin's gonna happen to you" He swear as if he'd be your own guardian angel.

"Baby what happened? Did you have a nightmare?" You pet his hair, beginning to realize what's happening.

"I can't lose you, I can't. Not you. Please, I can't." He cries into your shirt, trying to calm down but he feels genuine fear that he doesn't feel outside the battlefield. You hold him as his breathing slows down, exhaustion overtaking him. You settle against the wall, fingers combing through his hair as you both fall asleep. Safe to say he doesn't have anymore nightmares that night.

(Friendly reminder that traumatized men aren't always fully numb and military men can have feelings !!)

[stressed-cryptid]

Unjust Tears

Sylus x Pregnant Fem!Reader

Nothing rains on your mental parade like a bad day. So bad in fact that it brings you to tears. Good thing husband is there to save the day!

Labels: fluff, cursing, attempt at non-consensual touching, allusion to vomit, vague description of kidnapping, implied torture/murder

Wc: 2.2k

Whoever said pregnancy was a beautiful thing was a dirty liar. At least that's how it seemed after such a long and taxing day. It started in the morning, when you had to ask twin troublemakers, Luke and Kieran, for help with putting on your shoes. At almost eight months pregnant, needing help with getting your shoes on wasn't anything new, but usually Sylus was the one to help you with that. He, however, had to leave for an early meeting with some dealer who thought he was too great to wait for the King of the N109 Zone, so he wasn't there to assist you. You loved the boys, but having them help you with this felt just a tad embarrassing; even if they didn't mind.

The second difficult experience of the day came when you tried to eat breakfast. Your private chef had prepared something that you were normally okay with, but today? It might as well have been prison slop. You turned the plate away before it was even set down in front of you, on smell alone. It was pungent and made your stomach turn. So what did you have instead? A peanut butter and jelly sandwich. With pickle slices and a side of orange juice. You were only able to eat about half of it before you noticed the chef give you a barely-there-but-still-visible side eye, and suddenly the sandwich was very unappealing. You excused yourself, citing that you felt full with only half the sandwich (another recurrent problem you had but that wasn't true at the moment) and went about your day while trying to shake off the shame.

You planned on going shopping for more baby clothes, despite already having plenty. After all, it never hurt to have a few extra clothes for your little one. Actually it was probably a good idea, since there was no telling just how many times you'd end up have to change the baby into some clean clothes. It was here that you met the next inconvenience on the list: the elevators in the base weren't working. They were having regular maintenance done, and it wouldn't be done until a couple hours later. The only one that was still currently running was the elevator that went strictly between the penthouse and the second highest floor of the base.

It was frustrating, but you were undeterred, refusing to back down from this metaphorical beast. So, brilliantly, you decided you'd try going down the stairs. It started well, really. You were taking them slow since you couldn't quite see past your bump, and Luke and Kieran were right on your heels to catch you in case you stumbled. After only a few flights though, you were winded and your feet were starting to hurt. Sylus may have bought you the best maternity shoes money could buy, but they weren't magic. You had to pop in on the closest floor to take a seat and rest. It was meant to only be a short break before you began your descent again, but your body decided it was nap time. So you fell asleep in a chair in the middle of the base, with the twins watching over you. By the time you woke up, the elevators were running again, but you couldn't stop beating yourself up over having fallen asleep like that.

So many inconveniences, and it was just barely about to be midday. What bad luck that the rest of the day followed in a similar pattern...

You were dead set on going to Linkon to look for baby clothes, wanting to see the sun and just generally some daylight instead of the N109 Zone's usual gloom. The ride there wasn't normally too long, but traffic on the freeway into the city was a nightmare. It took so long that you nearly peed yourself in the car. While you were perusing the many outfit options in the baby section, a random old lady came up to you and tried to touch your belly. You naturally smacked her away because, hello? You don't know her? She had the audacity to act shocked, and then everyone around you looked at you like YOU were crazy!? You didn't stick around for much longer after that.

You were hungry so you went to a nearby café for a snack to tide you over while you decided on what to buy for lunch. A stranger, for whatever reason, assumed you must've been there for coffee and got in your face about it. You screamed back at them before the boys - who had accompanied you - could do anything. It left everyone stunned as you stormed out, but the interaction ruined your appetite for the next hour.

Eventually, you managed to choose somewhere to eat, though mostly for the twins' sake. You didn't want them to be hungry just because you weren't. Luckily, your appetite came back just in time, and you were able to enjoy lunch for a while. Sylus also found some time to text you back in the middle of you eating, so that was a plus. This was the only good part of your day so far. And it stayed that way. He told you business was holding him up, so he didn't know when he'd be back home. It felt like a punch to the gut, and instantly brought your mood back down, leaving you unable to finish your meal. After lunch, the three of you decided to get dessert at your favorite ice-cream shop, but unfortunately it was out of your favorite flavor. You settled for your second favorite, but it wasn't nearly as good.

On the walk back to the car, someone bumped into you and nearly knocked you over. Luke caught you, thankfully, as Kieran called to the guy, but all you got back was a "Fuck off, Bitch!" During the drive back, some idiot who must've gotten their license by the blessings of an Etsy witch for ten gold nearly ran you off the road. On top of that, the ride was made almost twenty minutes longer because a gang war started on a main road and you had to take a detour.

By the time you got back to the base, your last nerve was worked about as thin as one ply toilet paper. The straw that broke the camels back however, came at dinner. The chef had prepared something delicious, you were devouring it, and it even seem like you were going to finish your food. That was until your baby - beloved parasite you couldn't wait to meet - decided it was time to practice their kickboxing with your ribs. In an instant, you felt full and couldn't eat anymore. Actually, it felt like what you managed to eat was going to be sent back up. You rushed to the nearest bathroom and knelt by the toilet for the next fifteen minutes until your baby calmed down. Your appetite didn't come back though, so your half-eaten dinner was discarded.

You laid down in bed, trying to relax, but could stop yourself from going over every little thing that happened today. Even now, you couldn't free yourself from whatever curse afflicted you. No matter what way you turned, you were unable to get fully comfortable in bed, your legs were sore from all the walking you did today, and your stomach felt empty and full at the same time. So as you turned the entire day over in your mind, again and again, you couldn't stop the stinging in you eyes.

Any other day, you would've gotten over it. Any other day, you would've stopped thinking about it hours ago. Any other day, the frustration would've fizzled out by now. But today? Today you didn't have Sylus by your side. You didn't have him to defend you from judgmental chefs or touchy old ladies. You didn't have him to carry down the stairs or drive you around. You didn't have him to avenge you against inconsiderate, self-absorbed assholes. You didn't even have him to hold you and tell you it was okay. So today, aided by the shackles of pregnancy hormones, the weight of the day came in the form of tears. Dripping down the side of your face and into your pillow.

You were so consumed by your emotions that you never noticed you husband coming in.

"Well this simply won't do." The words put a sudden halt to your sniffles and quiet sobs. You almost thought you had imagined them until Sylus came around to your side of the bed, kneeling in front of you and taking your hand. "Why are you crying, Sweetie? Who upset my gorgeous wife?"

You starting crying again, quite a bit louder this time. "Sylus, I had the worst day ever today!" You managed to say through sobs.

"Is that so? What happened?" His hand came up to stroke your hair, wiping away what tears he could.

After a few sniffles and gasps, you were able to speak. "First-!" You told him everything. Every little detail, from start to finish. The shoes, the chef, the oldest lady, the rude guy; all of it. And Sylus listened. So carefully, like you were telling him the secrets of the universe. He nodded and hummed along, and he didn't interrupt. He let you go on for as long as you wanted about it all. When you were done, he leaned forward and planted a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead.

"It seems the feisty kitten in front of me truly had the worst of days. Come here." Sylus got up from the floor and sat on the bed, turning to face you then helping you sit up as well. Then he hugged you. One hand on the back of your head, the other on your back rubbing up and down. You stayed like this, in silence, for several minutes before he spoke. "Do you remember what they looked like? The people who bothered you in Linkon?"

You sniffled and answered a simple, "Sylus, no." And that's all it took for him to back down from the idea.

"Alright, I won't go after a bunch of strangers, but I am firing the chef. I don't care how unusual the dish is, their job is to make you whatever you want and that's it. Any judgment is to be kept inside and off of their face. I'll have them replaced soon enough, but in the meantime, I'll stay home and make all of your meals. How's that?"

You nodded, hugging him tighter, or at least as tight as your belly allowed. "Sounds good."

"Luke and Kieran told me you haven't had a full meal all day. Is there anything you're craving right now?"

You think for a moment. After having a good cry, and having your husband by your side again, you think you might be able to stomach something. Like Sylus said, you haven't finished a single meal today, so you are pretty hungry. After some contemplation, you land on, "Strawberry yogurt and fries."

"Does it matter where the fries are from?" Like a good husband, he doesn't question the combo. The only questions he asks are the important ones.

"Do you not know where my favorite fries are from?" Hormones strike as visceral rage fills you at the thought that he doesn't know you inside and out.

"Of course I know, Sweetie. Just wanted to make sure you didn't want fries from somewhere else. I'll be back shortly." Sylus walks with a purpose out of your shared bedroom, making sure to fire the chef on his way out. The moment Luke and Kieran hear that, they pounce. Sylus already knew the gist of how your day went; the boys reported it to him the moment he walked through the door. He instructed them to wait for his say-so to take care of that disrespectful pest. He wanted to hear the true severity of the damage their critique caused from you first. He was never going to just fire the chef, but now he's certain they'll never see the light of day again. How unfortunate. Oh well.

True to his word, he comes back quickly. Your craving hasn't changed and he is safe from your wrath and your tears. As you eat, he massages your legs for you, the both of you relaxing as you watch a movie in your home theater. He's changed into a black sweater and white pants, and barely pays attention to what's on the screen. All his focus goes to you, and it makes you wonder what kind of day he's had. Did he have a bad day, too? Was it just as bad as yours? Maybe it was worse. Yet he doesn't say a word about it...

"Sylus, aren't you tired? You spent all day taking care of business, and now you're spending the rest of the night taking care of me. Don't you want to relax instead?"

His response is quick. Decisive. "I am relaxing. And no, I'm not tired. Even if I was, I'd never be too tired to take care of you."

Warmth blooms in your chest, spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes. It's moments like these that you know you married the right man, and you know he'll be a great father, too. You had a bad day today. Definitely one of the worse ones, for sure. But tonight, you'll sleep feeling lighter, at peace, because you know you have your husband to lift you up. After all, he thought your sadness was the greatest injustice in the universe.

You know you'll always be okay because Sylus has your back, and that's never going to change.

A/n: This is my first time writing in years and my first time writing for Sylus so sorry if he's ooc and seems like it was written by a raccoon with greasy hands and eyebags to mars

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[notspiders]

he's drunk :/

On the Reverse Trope being "Too hot to cuddle".

General Warnings: Mostly fluff. Crackfic(if that's the term?)/Shits and giggles. I dunno what I'm doing. I should be studying for finals but I can't be arsed. Lemme vomit this out real quick. Characters may act out of character, poor grammar is likely. Cussing in the warnings.

~~~~

Simon Riley is drunk.

Johnny is half-supporting him, half-guiding him as he drags the giant, hulking mass into the apartment at the dead of the cold, winter night, and helps him sit down on the bed. "Aye bonnie, aw the best!" "Thanks Johnny!"

Thanks Johnny indeed. You're now trying to think of what to do with your husband.

Water has already been given. It- along with the whiskey he's drank over the night- is sloshed all over his sorry mask. You'd tug it off but you know that even drunk, Simon is very stubborn of taking it off and you're not wishing to lose your fingers any time soon.

So you move on to step two: Making him lie down.

"Simon..." You coo. "It's your bedtime, let's get you down-" You reach forward.

"Keep yer hands off me."

"Eh?"

"Only m' missus can touch me."

"I am your wife, you dumbarse."

"You're too pretty."

"..."

"..."

"Baby, please you need to rest..."

He suddenly slumps on the pillow.

Okay. Great. This is wonderful. You're not complaining or questioning why he's suddenly compliant. What matters is that he's listening.

In return for his compliance, he's gonna get cuddles. This is a win- win! He's a living heater. You're cold. Sleepy. Cranky that you're even awake in the first place, and you're going to dive right into bed with him and-

Why is he getting up?

"Simon? What are you-"

"'m not gonna sleep with you."

"Why?"

"Not m' missus."

"But I am!"

"Nuhuh."

He slept on the couch that night.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Thinking about OldMan!Logan putting reader in the strongest, horniest matting press ever until she cries and begs him to slow down

You Make Me Feel So Young

Old man Logan X F! Reader

Logan's feeling feisty

A/N: I imagine Logan bursting into readers room like that big bird gif. You'll see what I mean.

Warnings: SMUUUT! MDNI, sexting/nudes, mutual masturbation, unprotection PiV, Logan gets a tad rough, and then a lil mean and teasing, mating press :), creampie

He hadn't felt this good in ages.

What was causing his sudden heightened mood, burst of energy, he didn't know. Maybe it was because he actually ate breakfast this morning, or the sunlight from earlier today and warm brush of wind that signaled Spring was here, or maybe it was because he has a pretty little thing by his side. All starry-eyed and eager to take care of him, make him happy.

Since you've come to his life, he has no excuse to stare down the bottom of a bottle every night. He doesn't skip meals anymore, because you won't let him. Even if he tries to tell you he's not hungry- you'd pout,

"You're really going to let me eat this all alone?"

And shit, he can never resist the way you stick out your bottom lip and look at him pleadingly with those stunning eyes. So he'll eat a few fries off your plate, finish off your sandwich. sip on your water with you.

What do you know, eating actual food, drinking water, it does make you feel better.

The aches and pain still come. The fits of coughing. The pain of his wounds healing themselves slower than they used too- yet still faster than an average man. Instead of bleeding to death like most men would with injuries he has sustained, he sits in some type of purgatory, not healed, but not dead either.

You're always there though. There to soothe the aches and pains. To rub his back when it gets too much. To clean him up and stitch what hasn't healed yet. You do it with a smile and a kiss.

He hasn't told you he loves you yet, but he's pretty sure you know.

It's not all about what you do for him though. Just who you are. Wonderful, full of life. He sees a future with you. When before, all he wanted was to take that last breath, finally be pretty to rest in the cold dirt; Now, he has reason to keep going, everyday.

The Chrsylers door slams shut, as he watched last of the bachelor's party drunkenly stumble back into the hotel. Normally he'd getting irritated chuaffering around a bunch of drunken fools but he couldn't deny that he was amused by them tonight. In a way, they reminded him of his young self. Bold, arrogant, didn't take life that serious.

As he watched the last nearly nosedive into the glass doors of the hotel entrance, he felt a vibration in his pocket. Pulling out his phone and glasses, he tucked them on and unlocked the screen where he saw your name popped up.

Busy night?

His expression softened at your name and text. Always checking up on him. It's late, you should be asleep. You like to wait up for him despite his pleas for you not too. One of you should at least have a full nights sleep. He looked back at the hotel entrance, making sure none of the bachelors have passed out in the foyer in their own vomit, before returning to the drivers seat.

Once seated, he texts you back.

Got a few jobs

He set his phone on his lap, waiting for you to text back while he stared out the window. The phone buzzed and he quickly grabbed it.

Should I expect you late, or do you think you'll come home soon?

Another text from you came in just as he read the first one

I miss you <3

A faint smile stretched across his face. He responds back to you.

I'll see what I can do. Miss you too baby.

He exits your chat, going to the app where he gets his jobs and communicates with customers. The next pickup isn't for an hour. He grumbles to himself, as he felt eager to join your company. He as scowled at the time of the job- your name popped up again.

He clicked on the chat.

To keep you company ;)

Below your text, was an image. An extremely delightful image to grace Logan's eyes. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He let out a soft gasp, eyes growing heavy as he observes the curves of your figure in the dirty picture you have sent him. Your hand strategically placed to block what he really wanted to see.

Fuck

His cock throbbed in his trousers and he quickly palms it with his free hand. He stared at every detail, every single pixel- as if he hadn't already committed you to his memory. He squeezed himself through his pants, a small groan escaping him.

Another picture came in, from another angle.

He swiped the chat away. Quickly going to the work app, he canceled the job. Fuck it if he loses some money- all the blood in his head has rushed down to his second head, he's not thinking straight anymore.

Once the cancellation was confirmed, he put the limo into drive, checked his mirrors and quickly pulled off onto the road, driving towards the highway.

Meanwhile, you're in bed, concerned by a lack of response from Logan. It's marked that he's seen it- and he usually responds. Sometimes you'd get a phone call from him, leading to some phone sex as you get yourself off to the sound of his voice. Never have you received nothing from him though. It made you worry if he got into some trouble.

It's not till you heard the familiar sound of doors opening and shutting that you sat up from bed. You held a blanket over yourself, still nude from the pictures you've taken, and listened to the sound of footsteps approaching the bedroom.

The door opened, and Logan stood there- looking flustered as hell.

"Oh-" You blinked in surprise, "Lo, honey what are you doi-"

Before you could finish, he was on you faster than you could blink. His hands tore your comforter off you, as he grabbed your ankles and pulled you towards him with a yelp, him kneeling onto the bed and slotting himself between your legs and his lips crashed onto yours.

You moaned as he licked into you mouth. He grinds into your core, you could feel his hard cock through his trousers. Your arousal was soaking the cloth of his pants but he didn't care. Your hands clenched at his shirt, desperately grabbing onto him, onto something because he was moving so damn fast you could barely process it.

"Logan!" You gasped, tearing yourself away from his kisses. "Baby- what's got into you?"

"You." He says, lurching forward again, his tongue pressed against yours. His hands explored your figure. Cupping your breasts and rubbing circles into your nipples. He slid them down your curves, pulling you flush against his hips as his kisses trailed down your neck and between the valley of your breasts.

"Mm-" You tipped your head back, arching into him as his tongue ran over your skin, becoming hot and sweaty from Logan's incessant grinding. You pushed him up, sitting yourself up in his lap while meeting him in a heated kiss.

Your hands pushed off his jacket, and worked on unbuttoning his shirt. Once you reached the last button, he pulled it off, discarding it to the side. You helped him pulled off his white tank. Revealing his torso, littered with hair and scars. You pressed open mouth kisses over his chest, running your tongue over a nipple- a deep moan from him gracing your ears.

He pushed you back onto the bed, and you watched him quickly undo his belt, unzipping his pants and pushing it down to his thighs.

"Those pictures really riled you up huh?" You smiled.

He looked down at you, and grinned. His smile sent warmth through you- and a little worry. Almost devilish in how he looked at you.

His thumbs hooked into his briefs, pulling them down to join with his pants. His cock waved at you in the air, and you couldn't help the small giggle that escaped you at the sight of it.

Reaching your hand up, you grasped his girth. Your thumb ran along the thick vein that ran from his hip, down to the tip of his head, red and swollen- leaking pre-cum that you used as a lube as you stroked him slowly, watching as his expression melted into something pleasurable.

He wasn't going to let you have all the fun though.

He leaned down over you while you jerked him. His free hand reached down between your thighs, finding your clit. His calloused fingers rubbed circles into you- at the same pace that you stroked him.

His lips brushed over yours, but he didn't fully kiss you. Only a teasing touch as he circled your clit, making your hips squirm. Every time your hand pumped him faster, his own hand worked you faster- until your panting, barely able to focus, your hand moving him on autopilot as you focused on your impending finish.

Only-

He took his hand away. You felt your pleasure melt away, leaving your core aching and needy.

"Logan-" You whined,

"Hush baby." He grumbles, bringing his hands to the back of your knees and pushing them up to your chest. "I got you-"

You angled his cock to your core, as he carefully thrusts into your folds, bumping your clit that elicits a harsh gasp from you each time. Then you felt his tip push into your cunt, and your head fell back in relief as he buried himself in you- inch by inch.

He barely gave you time to adjust- not wanting to waste another second of his burst of energy, he began pounding into your pussy. A moaned scream escaped you, as your hands reached to grab onto his wrists- where he still held your legs to your chest.

"Lo-!" You cried out. The bed shook underneath you, his thrusts coming in powerful droves where his hips slammed against yours.

"Taking me so damn well darling-" He says through gritted teeth, as sweat beaded his forehead, and his face becomes more flushed.

You never seen him like this before. While you and Logan had a fairly active sex life, his stamina and energy wasn't always there. Still better than anyone you ever been with though- the man can make you cum as many times as he desired, completely wreck you.

This, it was almost too much.

He was fucking into your harder and faster than you were used too. It felt so good, but so much. You couldn't think straight, you couldn't catch your breath. You're pretty sure the mattress is going to break soon under the power of his thrusts.

Breathless, you tried to say his name- to tell him to slow down but you could barely manage it. The buildup in you was intense. Your nails dug into his skin. Logan's grunts filled your ears, and you could only focus on the sound of him and the feeling of his cock splitting you open over and over and over.

He leaned down, his chest and hips flushed against you. Your legs hooked over his shoulders and he wrapped his arms completely around you. His pace didn't falter, in fact he seemed to get faster- using you as leverage to slam into you harder.

His knees spread farther and buried into the mattress, his heavy breath hit across your face. He tipped his chin up, staring down at you with parted lips- watching your every expression.

He never admitted to you how he wished he'd met you in his prime. Where he could go multiple rounds without breaking a sweat. Sure, his game is still considerably better then most men, but nothing like how he used to be. He can put you to sleep, happy, satisfied and filled with him to the brim. He always wants to give you more.

This? This was just merely a fraction of what he could do to you. Whatever this burst of energy he has, he's using every bit of it.

"Lo-" Your lips formed into that pout he always thought was so cute. "I- I-!" You whined, unable to form words. Each thrust knocking them out of your head.

"What sweetheart?" He grunted. You moaned, your head falling limply to the side, tears welling up in your eyes as exhaustion threatened to break you.

"Slow down!" You managed to cry out, before moaning when he hits that sweet, honey spot inside you.

"What's that baby?" He asks, clearly having heard you- but he wanted to hear it again. It may be awful, but fuck it fills him with pride to hear a young thing like you to beg him to slow down.

"Please- Slow, slow down?" You whined,

He obliges, pacing himself slowly in and out of you. It felt good, you could catch your breath- but now he was being painfully slow. He rutted deep into you, the coarse hair that sat above his cock brushed over your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you that made your legs tremble- but it wasn't enough to push you over that edge you needed so badly.

"That better baby?" He coos, a teasing edge in his voice.

"You can...Go faster than that-" You mumbled lazily.

"Slow down, go faster, can't make up your mind now can you?" He taunts. He stops himself, buried inside you, but unmoving.

"Logan!" You cried. "Move!"

"Oh, that's not good enough either huh?"

You huff, opening your eyes to look at him- to be greeted by a cocky grin. Almost youthful in the way his eyes sparkling looking down at you. You realized he loved every second of this. He always teased you a little bit, but this was something different.

You like it.

"Please- Please you can do whatever you want just-"

You gasped when he picked up his brutal pacing into you again. Angling himself to pound into the sweet spot, that had you seeing stars. You've become mindless, just taking everything he gives you.

He could feel the way you clenched around him, the look in your eyes told him you were close. Contrary to his brutal thrusts, he softly pressed his lips over yours, gentle and loving. He whispered,

"Cum for me baby."

You let go, waves of pleasure rushing through you, seemingly never-ending as Logan fucks you through it. Your throat was hoarse from screaming his name- you didn't even notice.

Logan slammed into you one last time, as you felt his cock twitch inside you. With a loud grunt and locked jaw, he filled you up- just as he likes to, his messy way of claiming you all for himself.

His face buried into your neck when he finished, the both of you out of breath, covered in sweat.

"Lo..." You sighed sleepily. "Mm, that was nice."

"Yeah." He replies, before pushing himself up and pulling out of your carefully. Your legs were sore, and numb from being in one position for so long. To your surprise, he flipped you onto your stomach. "We're not finished yet, darling."

[deikshen]

I love getting Shen Qingqiu pregnant (and it's funny that just today I've done it twice already), so... Shen Yuan who transmigrates into Shen Qingqiu, and in the midst of his medical check-up with Mu Qingfang about that whole qi deviation thing, Mu Qingfang hints that perhaps the qi deviation was due to using too much of his qi to pause his pregnancy.

Shen Qingqiu it's like: pardon??? Pregnancy?????

Sure enough, the System confirms: Shen Qingqiu's body is pregnant! And Mu Qingfang, falling into all that of a certain amnesia after the qi deviation, explains to him that he has a pregnancy in a very early stage that he never wanted to interrupt, but "the responsibilities around him, responsibilities that only grew" were too much to have a baby at that time. And he's been putting off his baby's growth with qi... for a long time.

Shen Qingqiu asks him very, very quickly how the hell he can keep doing that. No. He's not having a baby. He's just getting a new body. He just died. What the fuck. Thanks, but no thanks.

Of course, later on, with Without-a-cure, it is very difficult to continue diverting his qi to keep the baby hidden and not growing inside him. At this point, Shen Qingqiu does not terminate the pregnancy just because... Because he does not feel capable. Plus, he feels a little guilty; the original goods could have terminated that pregnancy if he had wanted to. What gave him, an impostor in a stolen body, the right to end a life that the original Shen Qingqiu was so jealously protecting? He had already taken one life. He would not take a second.

So even he does need more qi about it, and if he needs Mu Qingfang's external qi to hide it during the larger outbreaks of Without-a-cure, Shen Qingqiu decides that maybe he'll give the baby a chance to be born when he has to throw Binghe into the Abyss. The house will be empty by then, won't it? And will be sad. And painful. And he'll need a distraction.

One month before the IAC, Shen Qingqiu lets go of the qi seal and allows the baby finally to continue growing. It is strange to feel it, and even stranger to feel it grow. Mu Qingfang congratulates him on his decision, explains what symptoms he will have to deal with in the coming weeks, what tea is best to avoid, what herbs he should drink. Shen Qingqiu is tense, distant and somewhat nervous, fearing something dangerous or close to a qi deviation since he was not actively sealing the baby now. His body still has to get used to the enormous hormonal chaos that will gradually subside; Shen Qingqiu is resigned and hateful, but he simply decides that it will not be something that will keep him awake at night.

The IAC passes. The morning after Shen Qingqiu throws Binghe into the abyss is painful and filled with tears and the first signs of morning sickness. Unfortunate timing, as many other Peak Lords and Sect Leaders see him nearly faint and run off to vomit.

What Shen Qingqiu doesn't expect (or, knowing the reputation of the original Shen Qingqiu, should expect) are the rumors.

Shen Qingqiu is jealously protecting his small belly bump, hiding it before it is necessary to say it, but it is inevitable that it will be discovered. It's surprisingly less well received than he expected. His refusal to speak about what happened to Luo Binghe, his refusal to give him up for dead, his enormous sadness, her refusal to tell the identity of the baby's other father... Shen Qingqiu is hearing the rumors from his own disciples before Shang Qinghua and his spy nets of An Ding disciples bring him the news that the rumors have already spread.

Apparently, everyone believes that Shen Qingqiu was having an affair with his spoiled disciple Luo Binghe ("He even bet so much on him and his victory in the IAC!"), and when a beast killed his beloved disciple, Shen Qingqiu fell into a heartbreaking sadness from which he could only be freed by the fruit of his love that was now growing in his womb.

Sensitive, loud, chaotic. Shang Qinghua mocks him. Shen Qingqiu hits him with his fan and insults him. Living with the author is an unpleasant nuisance when Shang Qinghua confirms that he never wrote about Shen Qingqiu being pregnant, although he didn't actually write about things that later happened either. The world filling in the plot holes, he says, and Shen Qingqiu hates it.

Pregnancy is a painless process. Shen Qingqiu suffers through it like anyone else, but he has his good moments. He gets excited about the baby. Mu Qingfang confirms to him that its a boy. He lulls him to sleep when he wakes him up in the middle of the night with kicks. Even before he is born, he is already causing trouble; Shen Qingqiu finds himself loving this little boy very much and wishing, after all this time, to finally meet him.

The baby is born. If Shen Qingqiu was curious about the identity of the second father, nothing on the baby's face tells it; it is a sweet and cute baby identical to Shen Qingqiu, except for some undeniably big and beautiful eyes.

He also has his own character: he cries a lot, he only calms down in Shen Qingqiu's arms, he hates strangers coming close, he cries when someone else carries him, and enjoys when Shen Qingqiu sings to him. He is quickly loved and spoiled by the entire sect and his disciples.

Shen Qingqiu allows himself to forget that he will only have four years to live for this baby. Luo Binghe will return seeking revenge, and Shen Qingqiu does not plan to escape; as long as he allows the baby to live, and as long as Cang Qiong don't burn, he can hand himself over to Luo Binghe's revenge.

(Of course he has prepared sun-moon dew mushrooms. He's not an idiot. He also has enough legal scrolls that in case he dies, his baby will stay with Shang Qinghua and the anonymous brother Shang; Shang Qinghua will run away with his little one and they will meet in a village far away, where the "anonymous brother" lived. Shen Qingqiu would raise his son as an anonymous herbalist and they would live as simple NPCs without bothering anyone.)

Shen Qingqiu has his beloved little baby and a plan. It is a surprise to him when, one night, there is a knock on his door. His baby is just over a year and a half old, he stammers a few words, he learned the dangerous art of walking and running; so little time, so much domestic comfort, of course Shen Qingqiu does not expect disciples returning from the Endless Abyss directly to his doorstep.

Yet there he is. Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe who looks at him with an unfathomable expression, dirty in blood, with torn robes. He is unbearably handsome, tall and with a heavy black sword on his back.

Shen Qingqiu is frozen, only thinking about running away with his baby, when Luo Binghe just falls to his knees in front of him.

("Shizun, the rumors are strong, even in the Abyss. When did this horrible disciple disgrace his Shizun like this? Will Shizun be able to forgive this one for his mistakes? If the Abyss was the punishment Shizun intended for this disciple's behaviour, then this one understands. Please forgive this horrible beast for his audacity.")

Shen Qingqiu had already made peace with the rumors. He actually tried to ignore them most of the time. So, for Luo Binghe of all people to believe them ("As if there was any way to forget... that!!! It takes two to make a baby, and you and I didn't do it...!!!"), and even more so, to feel guilty about them… As if something in Luo Binghe's head made him believe that if he were to get infected by the sex pollen of some flower, he could really dishonor his Shizun like that! For that you first need to want it with this Shizun, silly boy!

Shen Qingqiu knows that he has no chance to lie to him, less in something like that. As soon as Luo Binghe finds out that his son has no Heavenly Demon blood in his veins, it will be risky and dangerous. He wants to tell him the truth. He has to tell him the truth.

... However, who can blame a man for having a little hope that everything will eventually work out? Perhaps he should show the baby first, his little offspring, to making him understand that its a harmless baby and does not deserve to suffer. But who could blame him for wanting Luo Binghe to not notice the truth and just accept it and stay as if he had never left?

... Probably the same people who might blame Shen Qingqiu when he presented his sleeping son to Luo Binghe (after letting him bathe and eat something decent), and just a caress on his baby's pale forehead with the careful claw of Luo Binghe caused a red zuiyin to appear.

What the fuck, WHAT THE FUCK?! Airplane, WHO THE FUCK DID SHEN QINGQIU HAVE AN AFFAIR WITH??! WHAT OTHER HEAVENLY DEMONS ARE THERE?! HOW FUCKING LONG HAS THAT BABY BEEN HIDING?!

...

(Somewhere beneath the mountain, Tianlang-jun sneezes. Ah. Strong-willed human cultivators of pretty faces and bad temper. They were always his weakness. One would think that someone like Tianlang-jun would learn after being abandoned by a wandering cultivator apprenticed to a demonic cultivator with a very bad reputation, but, it was not the art of love also having a broken heart?)

[sacredsorceress]

Hi lovely!! Been thinking about Bob taking care of his drunk partner. how he’d feel seeing her at that state, trying to keep himself calm while simultaneously making sure she’s okay. i can just picture him being such a sweetheart with pulling back her hair and rubbing her back, then flinching when she throws up 🥹

.:*Bob taking care of Drunk!Reader.:*

A/N: bob is such an angel. I know he'd love being able to help his girlfriend in her hour of need (even if it's far from glamorous). not proofread sorry!! WC: 1.4k WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol consumption and descriptions of vomiting

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・bob masterlist・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

"Heyyyyyyy Reynolds."

No matter how long you've been together, Bob loves hearing you say his name. It grounds him in reality and reminds him that he's really there, and truly yours. ‘Reynolds’ may have been mostly retired as you crossed the line from teammates to partners, but it still had its way of slipping out: particularly when you had been drinking.

And from the way you dragged out the s in his surname and hiccupped while waiting for him to respond- you were drunk.

"Hey- hi baby," Bob replied over the intercom. "Are you okay?"

Able to hear the small smile on his face through the phone, you hummed.

"Mmmmm yeah," You said. "But I forgot my keys. Wanna let me upstairs hot stuff?"

Even after all this time dating, Bob's face still burned red. He only dropped out in the first few months of high school, but he imagined that this is what being a lovesick teenager would’ve felt like.

"Um y-yeah." He said, nodding. "I... hold on..."

You could hear the sounds of pages rustling as his book was tossed onto the bed, and his slippers shuffled as he dragged his feet against the floor.

"Aaaaanddd...." Bob droned, melodic tapping sounds echoing in your ear. "O-okay it should be open now."

Like magic, the lock on the front door of the Avengers Tower unlocked with several clicks.

“Be up in a second, honey.”

And the line went dead.

As he headed to the elevator to meet you, Bob considered how until recently, he had never known what it was like to have someone rely on him. Sure, he wanted to be that guy- even to a detriment- but whether because of chance or his own shortcomings, no one ever did. Not truly. Even now, with powers and abilities beyond his comprehension, Bob failed to be a reliable asset.

Then there was you. Sweet, loving, kickass you who loved him just as he came and trusted him with your life. Not as Sentry, not as the Golden Guardian of Good (gosh that really was a mouthful), but as Bob.

You and Bob. Two halves of one whole- lost without the other.

Bob may have thought you were doing a lot of the heavy lifting, but then again you knew him better than he knew himself.

As the elevator binged, announcing your arrival, he cringed at the bright light that poured out of it.

Most times you walked out of that same elevator you were like a goddess: confident and poised. Now, Bob chuckled to himself as your own mortality had caught up with you.

Bag slipping off of your shoulder, you stumbled out of the elevator, heels clicking against the floor.

"Mmmm, Bob." You hummed, crashing into his arms. If it hadn't been for his strength, he thinks you both would've fallen to the floor.

"Hi." Bob said, running his hand up and down your back. "Tired?"

Face still pressed against his chest, cheeks smushed up to your eyes, you simply nodded.

God, you were cute.

Sensing how you had shifted your weight entirely on top of him, Bob had a feeling that you'd struggle making it across the apartment in your inebriated state. Rather than watch you bumble like a newborn deer to your bedroom, he bent over, hooked one of his arms under your knees while the other laid flat against your back and lifted you from the floor.

A series of giggles escaped your throat as you clung to his robe.

"I always forget you have super strength." You said, nudging your face into the crook of his neck. "I should've had you pick me up from the bar."

Bob doesn’t miss a beat.

“I would’ve.”

And he’s being honest. He would have done anything you asked of him.

Pushing against his door,

The second Bob had his back turned, he heard your hurried rush to the bathroom. You tripped over the shoes you had disposed off seconds before, catching yourself on the bed before fumbling with the door handle.

Your boyfriend was just about to ask you what was wrong when he heard your knees skid against the floor, sliding into first base just in time for the toilet bowl to catch the contents of your stomach.

It was ironic really that despite the amount of times Bob had thrown up in his own life that he had such a weak stomach. Hearing you now, retching in the other room, the blanket slipped from his fingers as he brought his own fist to his mouth and gagged.

Keep it together. You can do this. You can help.

Do. Not. Vomit.

Like a mantra, Bob whispered cucumbercucumbercucumber to himself as he followed you into the bathroom.

His cool fingers on your scalp made a groan slip past your lips as your face fell onto the toilet seat.

Good thing he cleaned it today, Bob thought.

Squeezing his eyes shut to avoid seeing the contents of the bowl- something that would most certainly make him lose his lunch- Bob blindly ran his fingers over your forehead, pulling your hair back from your forehead and into a makeshift ponytail. Securing it with one hand, he moved the other to your back, rubbing in soothing, circular motions.

"Bob it's-" you retched. "it's okay, you can go to bed."

Digging his face into his shoulder, Bob shook his head.

"No, I can help." He assured you. "Just uh, let it out."

You were inclined to argue, but were cut short by another convulsion hitting your body as you threw up the last of what was in there. Heaving, you swatted your boyfriend away.

"It's okay, Bob." You said, wiping your face. "It's done. Mind running the shower?"

Quick to take a ticket out of vomit duty, Bob went to the shower and turned the faucet. As his hand ran under the water, waiting for it to run from cold to hot, he watched you flush the toilet and pick yourself up off the floor.

Even with your hair a mess and the bright white lighting of the bathroom raining down on you, Bob still thought that you looked beautiful.

"What are you looking at?" You laughed, pulling your shirt over your head.

"You're just... just," He shrugged, a sheepish smile hanging on his lips. "...really pretty." Bob turned his face to hide his blush. "Anyway, the shower's ready."

Stripping yourself of the last of your clothes while holding on to Bob to steady yourself- you'd really have to appreciate just how strong his chest was in the morning when you were sober- you then climbed into the shower. As the hot water ran over your skin, relaxing your muscles, Bob busied himself at the counter. You watched through the fogged glass as he squirt toothpaste onto your toothbrush.

After he slipped you the toothbrush, Bob hung your towel over the shower door, careful not to get it wet. You closed your eyes, focusing on the running water and the sound of him rattling through the cabinets, no doubt preparing the morning care package of pain reliever and water to leave on your nightstand.

Gosh, you were lucky.

Once you had finished washing clean the mess of the night, he helped you dry off. You couldn't help but giggle as he rubbed the tower up and down yours arms, making your hair stand on edge. When he helped you put on a fresh pair of pajama pants, your fingers fisted in his hair to keep from falling, you hummed.

"You're the best, you know that?" You said with hooded eyes. "I'm the luckiest."

Although your bedroom lighting was dim, you could see the heat creep up his neck at the compliment. Bob chuckled.

"I still think you're pretty when you're throwing up." He said, shaking his head in disbelief as he guided you under the covers and into bed. "I'm the lucky one."

As Bob hunched over you, bringing the sheets up to your chin, you couldn't help but mentally argue with him- positive that you were in fact the luckiest.

But, Bob had heard your teammates- particularly Walker- whisper about how they could make him useful; an asset to the team, but it rarely phased him now that he had you. He may not be able to control his abilities enough to save the world, but he could take care of you, his world, and that would be enough.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・inbox・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

[igorluvr]

Can you do some with nam gyu?

‘HERE WITH ME | nam-gyu x reader

PAIRING: nam-gyu x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: when you enter the Squid Games, you encounter a particular group of people, and to your surprise, one of them takes a special liking to you.

CONTENT: heavyyyy fluff, he’s a big softie for u, reader replaces gyeong su oops, love at first sight aww, shy!reader, both fall in love too fast

AUTHORS NOTE: first fic !! i didn’t know what to write abt so i came up with my own plot i hope u enjoyyy !!

word count: [1k]

AFTER the first game, you lost all motivation to keep going. Hours felt like days, eating felt like a chore, and you felt horrible for leaving your little sister alone in the world. You told her it would be just a couple days, that “big sis would be back soon,” but now you knew that you might never reunite—at least not in this lifetime.

Everything felt disgusting. You ran to the bathroom and cried for what felt like hours, feeling like vomiting as you scrubbed the blood and guts off your skin, washing so hard you swore some of the blood was yours. The walk back to your room felt like a death sentence as the smell of bodies grew stronger.

Sitting on your bed, you stared into space, trying to distract your mind from all the carnage. It felt as if the world outside was dead silent, with nothing happening beyond your little bubble. Hunger stabbed at your stomach as everyone else lay asleep. Using the dark, quiet room as an escape, you imagined floating in space, where nothing could hurt you, finally alone with your thoughts and soul.

That peace was abruptly shattered when the lights suddenly blared on, like a siren reminding you of where you were. “Damn,” you thought, “I stayed up the whole night?” The pink-suited guards lined everyone up and loaded them into the colorful hallway, leading to the next game. You weren’t sure if it was due to hunger, lack of sleep, or pure terror, but you felt weak as you walked up the steps, each stomp taking a toll on your body.

You heard from the previous winner that you would be playing dalgona, but when you entered the next room, you were met with two circular rainbows and six lanes. The announcer instructed everyone to form groups of five. Even though you hadn't played many games as a child, it was common sense to know dalgona was not a team game. Had the man lied? Was this really it? You glanced at him, noticing a look of dismay on his face. Maybe he didn’t know either.

As the timer began, everyone formed their groups, leaving you standing alone. The minutes ticked by, and your nervousness grew. You knew waiting for someone to pick you was wrong, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak up. Meeting new people had always been tough, and the pressure was tenfold now.

Just as you accepted your fate, a group of four approached you: a tall man with purple hair, a pretty boy with dark, long hair, a girl covered in piercings, and a boy who resembled a baby deer. The man with purple hair introduced himself as Thanos, but you zoned out, fixated on his friend. He stared deeply into your eyes as he fiddled with his rings. You tried to avoid eye contact, but every time you looked up, he was already watching you.

“Um, hellooooo? You deaf or somethin?” Thanos quipped. You snapped back to reality as he explained he wanted you on his team. You nodded, mainly out of necessity, but agreeing nonetheless.

The teams sat in neat rows, preparing for the games ahead. You overheard conversations about who would play which game, but your new team was strangely silent. Thanos and his friend chatted about a necklace, while the other two focused on the competitors. Your nerves ramped up, and you fidgeted with the sleeves of your jacket. The longer-haired boy suddenly tapped your shoulder.

“Hey, you okay?” he murmured. Usually, you would’ve said you were okay, but in this situation, what was the point of lying? You shook your head, and concern washed over his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly. All you could do was shrug. Suddenly, he took your hands and kissed them gently. The warmth spread across your face, leaving you feeling flushed and exposed. Did he know how his words affected you? Were you developing feelings in a place like this?

“It’s all gonna be okay, darling, I promise,” he reassured you. Just then, the girl beside you, Se-mi, interrupted.

“Hey, how about instead of drooling over her, we figure out our games?” she scoffed. You watched as Nam-gyu shot her a venomous glare, transforming his expression entirely.

“Nobody was talking to you, bitch,” he spat, his sudden coldness making your mind whirl. Why was he hostile with her yet soft with you?

As if nothing had happened, he turned back to you. “Which game are you best at, sweetheart?” You barely whispered your answer: “Um... gong-gi, I think.” He immediately understood, and soon after, your team’s games were decided.

Se-mi would play ddakji first, Min-su would follow with flying stone, you’d go next with gong-gi, Nam-gyu would play spinning top, and Thanos would go last with jegi.

When your team was called, fear washed over you. As your knees weakened, you felt Nam-gyu squeeze your shoulder. “Don’t worry, baby, you’re gonna do great.” His words bolstered your confidence more than you could admit.

Each game passed swiftly, and your team finished with eight seconds to spare. As you crossed the finish line, Nam-gyu launched himself at you, wrapping his arms around your waist, making you bounce with excitement. You were enveloped in his scent, overpowering the stench of blood around you. The touch of his hands melted away your worries, and for a moment, you felt truly safe.

As you walked back to the rooms, a smile formed on your lips. Was he genuinely interested in you?

When you settled into bed, a few moments of silence were interrupted by the sound of the bed creaking beside you.

"You did sooo good in gong-gi. Your hands were literally moving like a ninja" he praised, beaming with admiration. You giggled, "It was nothing, really."

He crawled closer, intertwining his fingers with yours, you loved this habit he’d picked up. “I’m so proud of you. You looked nervous, but you pushed through and helped us win,” Nam-gyu chuckled. You responded with nothing but a shy smile; words didn’t feel like enough. You turned your face the other way so he wouldn't see how much his words affected you

“Don’t hide your pretty face, you’re cute when you smile,” he said, fingers lifting your chin to meet his gaze. The compliment made you smile brightly.

“There she is—there’s my girl,” he added, inching closer until he was almost spooning you. You melted against him, relieved to have someone to stay beside in this chaos. As time passed, nothing else mattered. It was unlike how time slowed before, this time it was a comfortable passing. His hand played with your hair, scratching your scalp in a soothing rhythm. 

“You remember how nervous you were when you first went up to play?” he asked, his voice low and playful. “You were a disaster, but it was the most adorable disaster I’ve ever seen.”

You chuckled softly, warmth pooling in your chest and comfortability blooming. “You were just as bad, you dropped the spinning top across the floor”

“Well, I had to make sure you didn't feel alone in your clumsiness,” he teased, his breath tickling your ear. The closeness felt intoxicating, and you turned your head slightly to catch a glimpse of him. 

“You’d better not mess up like that again. You’re the only person here I actually like” you said, nudging him with your shoulder.

His gaze softened for a bit, like he was admiring you, then quickly flashed back. “Only if you promise to stay by my side forever,” he replied, a twinkle in his eyes.

“Always,” you whispered, feeling an undeniable connection grow between you.

As the laughter settled, the world around you faded into the background, like you were in your own little bubble. He leaned in closer, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead that sent a shiver down your spine.

“When we get out, I’m gonna take you to my club so we can have a proper party together, get you out of that shell” he suggested, a grin spreading across his face. “Yea?”

“Yea, I’d like that, just make sure those girls aren’t all over you” you replied, smiling against him playfully.

“Oh don’t worry, Imma show you all off. Everyone’s gonna know you’re mines.” He chuckled, proceeding to place a soft kiss on your cheek.

The more than friendly banter made your heart swell, and you cuddled into his side, feeling a fuzzy warmth. You could see a future painted vividly in your mind—one filled with laughter, love, and euphoria.

Soon, you both fell asleep in each other’s arms, wrapped in a sense of warmth and possibility. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, hope flickered in your heart, igniting the feeling that maybe, against all odds, you could find light in this dark world together. In that moment, everything felt right, and you couldn’t imagine ever wanting to be anywhere else but here—with him.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐲 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ you saw Abby almost killing Joel, ran through the frozen woods, believing he was dead, your get attacked by infected, only to wake up to a much worse scenario, Joel was taking care of you, with no mobility in one leg, a deformed face and the need to never let go of his wife.

warnings_ age gap (implied late 20s but you can ignore that), GORE, HEAVY ANGST, reader vomits and faints, fallacy references, canon divergence, medical inaccuracies in the following parts, anxiety, overthinking, trauma, panic attack, short part and no proofreading.

Notes_ JOEL IS NOT DEAD, HE GOT UP FOR HIS WIFE AND KIDS

「 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐲: 𝐑𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 」 (part one)

「 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫: 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 」 (part two, which this fic belongs to)

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 Pedro

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ———୨ৎ───୨ৎ

In the morning, after breakfast, Joel and you went out on patrol. Since the moment you woke up, your heart was pounding already.

Your hand was placed near your heart, as the other was doing everything to keep riding your beloved horse; star.

“Is everything okay?” Joel asks, riding beside you.

“I think I’ve been feeling some arrhythmia since I woke up…”

“Do you think your anemia is back?” He asks, worriedly.

“I don’t know, love” your voice showed some defeat for some reason.

Your health had improved since you arrived in Jackson five years ago. You looked healthy, even in shape after many patrols, hunting, and escapades with your family. Maria had been strict about you going to a doctor each year to check on your blood tests and cross out any anomalies. You would live with many issues, but you doubted you’d ever touch base like you did almost a decade ago in Boston.

After giving birth to Cerise, you promised to be healthy for your baby. And each time you had to leave her, your heart ached.

You constantly look back at Jackson. Worried and hoping that the drill was over.

“Cerise is going to be fine, baby,” Joel says, knowing you were worried about the little girl.

Joel loved his daughter, he was beyond overprotective with her. But he trusted Tommy, Maria, and his friends. Dina swore to take care of Cerise during the drill and that relieved both you and Joel.

“Yeah, she’s safe no matter what…” you say trying to convince yourself.

But your face demonstrated you were not pleased at all. Joel also knew his wife was protective of her family. So the best he could attempt to do was to distract you.

“You look very pretty today,” Joel said with a playful smile. He was trying to get you in a calm mood despite the worry of the drill, the snowstorm, and Ellie likely in a different patrol.

“You think so?” There was nothing special about your look that day.

Loose jeans, boots, a black turtleneck top with a heavy jacket, and earmuffs.

“Yeah, baby” The way he eye fucked you set your cheeks on fire.

As the years passed, Joel grew confused. When Ellie distanced from him, you and him separated for two months. After getting back together, he had been debating whether to return to his usual loving self he grew out to be after couple therapy or not. But you had proven him to be willing to be just as doting as he could be.

“Love you!” You said, blowing a kiss to him.

“I love you too, dear,” Joel said back.

It didn’t matter how much your body changed over the years if you grew your hair long or decided to cut it short. Whether it was summer or winter, Joel Miller would cherish you every single day. Even on the worst possible day, your husband would always come back to you.

…

Joel had grown trustful. It wasn’t a coincidence that the moment he took the hand of the random woman about to be eaten by the infected, your heart started pounding faster.

You said no when she offered to take you both to the place she had spent the night, but Joel made you a sign with his head that it was okay.

Now, you are being held by two people, looking at Joel and his bleeding knee, fearing the worst.

Who the fuck was Abby? And why she was so mad at your husband?

“She’s the wife? Attractive too” she says eyeing you with a fake smirk.

“Aren’t you a little too young for an old man like him?” You could kill her, but she was a stranger, whom you couldn’t feel anything towards.

But she revealed the truth, giving you flashbacks of Salt Lake City. And how the fireflies were going to experiment with you and your unborn child.

You don’t say anything, you barely eye her, the only thing that made you have some click with her was that she also lost her family at a young age.

“How could you marry a cruel man like him? Let alone let him give you a child?” Your eyes snapped open at the mention of Cerise. “Your daughter is not of my concern”

Joel wants to run and tell you it’s going to be fine, but seeing your bloody face and fingers purple and swollen, he started to feel like that was it.

“Answer me. Why him?” Abby asked, standing in front of you. She was taller than you; just a few years younger.

“He unfairly ruined your life. But he saved mine…” her bitter smile turned into a chuckle full of hate.

“I bet he did,” she said before turning back to Joel.

You could understand her pain, but she would never know all the things you endured.

You don’t give a fuck whatever the woman is saying, you just exchange looks with Joel and he was trying to calm you, but you couldn’t feel anything but panic.

To her, Joel ruined her life, but he saved yours. Joel was your savior and the reason why you had everything you always wanted. You refused to let her take that away from you.

But there wasn’t much you could do to stop it. You couldn’t do anything and that was killing you. Time was passing so rapidly and so slowly at the same time.

Her hand touched his forehead like she was trying to prove one last time that it was real, that she would get her desired revenge. You started squirming when the woman started beating Joel.

“I sympathize with your daughter, Joel” she whispered in his ear. “She will also know what it feels to lose her father”

His screams and groans of pain started mixing with your sobs. He tried to crawl away but it was useless. You turned to see Ellie entering the room, soon a man throws her to the floor and you yelp.

“ELLIE!” The girl looks at you horrified, even terrified of the sight. Her head starts rambling, trying to do something, but she can’t.

The woman and man holding at you were failing to keep you still. Nothing had prepared you to see the horrific sight of Joel covered in blood, his face swollen and barely breathing.

Your screams were bothering everyone, giving them heartache for the future widow and single mother you were gonna be.

“JOEL!” You yell his name over and over. Your heart, mind and soul breaking each time more and more.

“PLEASE! HE’S MY HUSBAND!” You begged over and over as more blood pooled around the man you loved. “STOP! PLEASE, JUST STOP!”

“We should’ve sedated her,” said one of the girls in the group, but nobody answered her.

One guy entered the room panicked and everyone turned to look at him.

“The horde is coming this way” everyone panicked.

But Abby hadn’t finished until the same guy went to grab her by the waist.

“ABBY, IT’S OVER! HE’S DEAD” He screamed at her. “WE HAVE TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE NOW!”

“RUN, Y/N!” you heard Ellie screaming at you. Then you realize they’ve let you go, probably because they got scared after the news of the horde.

Your tears didn’t let you give Joel one last glance before you started running towards the door after the man and woman holding you flickered in panic due to the situation.

“Let her go. She’ll live to tell the tragedy of her husband” Abby said to her mates after they tried to go after you. “Let’s go!”

Your boots were sinking in the snow, it was nearly impossible to run.

You started hearing the screams and grunts of the infected. Your hands clumsily pull out your walkie talkie and you try to reach out for somebody.

“TOMMY?” nothing, not a single glitchy sound of hope. “TOMMY! Do you copy me? Please…”

It was too much to handle. Your tears couldn’t stop, blinding your vision, the beating of your heart pounded and you could hear it.

As you ran, the pain of having just lost your husband assaulted you. You couldn’t say goodbye. You couldn’t grab his corpse to give him a proper funeral.

If Jackson was alive, you’d return to an empty house, where you’d raise Cerise… without his father.

You ran away without looking back for Cerise and Ellie. For them and only them. Ellie was capable of escaping, you knew the moment she locked eyes with you.

You started hearing a ringing in your ears, your arms felt heavy and before you could control your body, you fell on your knees to vomit, with your eyes hurting and still squeezing more tears.

You scream.

Everything you wished for had been taken away from you twice.

You sob loud enough to draw the attention of some infected. What was once a pair of two women a teenager run after you. But you aren’t able to run so far.

They tackle you and start biting your body as you scream and cry. You feel them sinking their teeth in your skin, wounding like sharp knives. You feel how two of your fingernails are pulled off and how the fingers begin to go numb.

At that moment, you started closing your eyes. You swore your life flashed before your eyes. Every moment of happiness in your life appeared in your eyes. Your family made you happy. The one that brought you the world and the one you started on your own. You thank having the chance to experience being a mother with Cerise and Ellie and you thank life for pairing you with Joel.

And the last thought that ran through your head before losing consciousness, was that you despised death, but you weren’t afraid of it.

…

Your eyes snap open and you are blinded by the sun. You want to move but you can’t. As your vision starts gaining light, your head also gains sense.

You can’t breathe, it hurts to fill your lungs with air. You don’t feel your left hand and all of your extremities burn.

You are at the entrance of the ski lodge. But how did you get there if you ran down the hill the day before?

You hear a pair of boots and your head turns alert.

A figure gets closer, limping and taking a very long time to sit beside you.

You force your eyes to focus, but when a pair of hands start caressing your face, tears start running through your cheeks.

“Oh my god! Joel!” you can barely focus your mind and gaze on him.

“We’re alive…” it’s all he said, with a dry voice. You feel his hands holding yours but you are very disoriented to properly identify his touch.

His face is swollen. There was a lot of dry blood across his face, some of his hair frozen along more blood, his under eye purple and black.

He had broken his skull.

More tears pool in your eyes as you try to reach his face to touch it. He gently pushed your hand away. The air wasn’t enough after doing that movement.

“Joel… I think my ribs are broken” you said, noticing it’s taking a lot of strength to breathe and talk.

“Breathe slowly,” Joel says.

Tears start flowing down your cheeks as rage invades you.

Your husband was hurt, you were hurt. Your babies were gone from your side.

You can’t understand what’s happening.

“I can’t do this,” you say between sobs, feeling like your ribs are going to explode. “Not again…” you start mumbling, feeling exhausted even though you had just opened your eyes.

“We’re alive, Ellie and Cerise are alive too” Joel repeats. “It’s all that matters…”

You see Joel’s deformed face because of the swollen areas covered in blood, his left eye barely visible and his hair a mess of blood and frozen sweat. You cry harder, feeling an unbearable pain flowing all across your body, shattering your soul.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere” you sob harder at his words, ignoring the excruciating pain in your ribs.

Once again, you have been traumatized. Just like the time you woke up after having to kill your family when they got infected. You feel your legs are bandaged and you wonder how long had passed since you were bitten and had fainted. You have so many questions. And you can’t wait to feel better to have a proper conversation. Although it would only make knowledge of the tragedy that had happened.

You have lost your family. Your husband was barely alive, you were nearly dying.

You never thought you would experience so much misery since you killed your family. You feared this time was worse. Your husband was excruciatingly wounded, you were dying if you didn’t stop crying.

And that would be a problem. The waves of agony were taking you, threatening to drown you to death. Even if Joel was alive, breathing by your side, the image of him being hit and punched would never leave your mind, the image of Jackson in flames, knowing Cerise was there and knowing Ellie was somewhere else, it was more than enough to shatter you once again.

The days would pass and you knew the tears would not stop. But the thought of Joel being alive and breathing made you realize, you could bear it.

Your agony would not kill your hopes of restoring your family. At that point, nothing could be worse.

“Stop crying or I’m losing you, y/n”

“Never,” you say through sobs and huffs of pain. “You’re not losing me, Joel”

Joel can’t articulate any expression on his face. But you know he tried to smile.

He was breaking your heart by being alive.

______________

I cried the whole time I was taking a shower after watching episode two 🚬

Taglist: @just-mj-or-not @mmkkzz @hiroikegawa @nosebeers @glitterspark (tell me if u want to be added or removed from masterlist)

[snail-day]

Rotations

Sum: You're a rotating nurse but you somehow became the emotional support toy for two department heads.

Yan! Shoko x Reader x Yan! Utahime

TW: Yandere Behaviors, Hospital AU, Noncon/Dubcon, Medical play, Power Imbalance, Blackmail, Overstimulation, Toxic Relationship, femdom, Crying during sex, Squirting, Dead Dove Do Not Eat. MDNI.

WC: 3.5K

a/n: Bruh, what is up with me and baby trapping lately? Anyways, Utahime has a breeding kink <3

Now, you’d think being a nurse has its cons, and yes, there’s the obvious ones. Like how it’s basically working at an airport where everyone is screaming because they missed their flight and somehow it’s your fault the weather is dogshit. Add in a little sprinkle of constant piss and vomit, and ta-da! You've got Healthcare! 

You could deal with that.

What you can’t deal with is being the rotating nurse caught between a couple that should’ve signed divorce papers five years ago. Maybe even a restraining order. 

To be fair, this isn’t your first rodeo. You already peaced out of one department after some white-haired freak and his husband couldn’t take a damn hint that your pussy only gets wet... for, well, pussy. Bless their hearts, though,  at least they didn’t drop the tired “you just haven’t met the right guy yet” line. No, they were polite. Courteous, even. Just a hum and “You know where to find us,” before the dark-haired husband sauntered back to running the psych ward. 

Which is how you ended up bouncing between two fresh levels of hell: Pediatrics, Utahime’s territory,  and ER, Shoko’s battleground.

You don’t have a favorite. Because both are nightmares in their own way.

Pediatrics? Sure, you’ll take the screeching parents, because at least they’re scared for their kid. That you can handle. What you can’t handle is the department head who stares at you like she’s already decided where the nursery’s going. Utahime doesn’t ask. She grabs. Pulls you into whatever broom closet nearest, slams the door, and chucks her pager somewhere into the abyss of trash bags and paper towels. Her lips are soft as they clash against yours, already tugging at the cartoon kittens on your scrubs as she breathes, “Aren’t the babies so cute? God, you’d look so good pregnant.”

It’s easier to pretend with her. To arch into her warm palm, to whimper when her fingers swirl against your clit, to whisper a mangled “I love you too,” because it’s the only thing that gets her to slow down, to kiss you like you’re real.

You're always relieved when her pager goes off. Thanking the universe or whatever higher power has granted you mercy. Watching her pretty pout as she pulls away, whispering she'll "make it up to you later." Honestly, you’d rather she didn’t. Because you’re left there alone, trying not to cry in a supply closet while people outside are praying their babies make it through the night.

It’d be rather pathetic to cry over your little situation, you’d think. So you better suck it up buttercup and make it through another day in the levels of hell. 

Now, Emergency,  that’s a different beast. You’re too busy to get laid most days. Shoko, at least, has the decency to admit the job sucks. Death. Blood. Screaming. She doesn’t sugarcoat it.

She just slips a little candy into your pocket with a scribbled note: Meet me by the smoking area.

And when you get there, she’s already waiting, smoke curling from her lips, eyes narrowed like she’s about to scold you for being late. But the second she sees you, she moves. No hesitation. You're slammed against the concrete wall before you can speak, her mouth ghosting over yours, cigarette still smoldering between two fingers as her free hand slips between your legs, pressing hard through your scrubs.

"You looked so sexy elbow-deep in that guy’s chest," she hums, coffee colored eyes half-lidded, voice smooth. "Bet you’d be even prettier cumming against my hand."

You barely manage a whimper before she’s moving in earnest, tight, punishing circles that leave you gasping and twitching. Your nails scrape down the wall, desperate for something to hold onto, splintering against the concrete as she keeps going.

Shoko's not the type to kiss you. Well, not during quickies like these. Doesn’t let you catch your breath. She doesn’t coo or soothe or give you anything soft.

She just works you over like another procedure, fast and efficient, done right the first time. No mistakes allowed. Just her fingers buried in your tight pretty cunt that sings for her. Leaving you only with that clinical detachment in her eyes, like you’re nothing more than a body on the table.

Her pager goes off again. She doesn’t even glance at it.

"Come on, sweetheart." Her voice is calm, almost bored. "If you take too long, that man’s gonna die. I could be there right now cracking open his ribs. But you had to come find me, huh?"

You try to apologize, try to speak, but she only tuts and presses harder, grinding her palm against the soaked fabric like it’s your fault she’s doing this.

"Jesus," she mutters, half-laughing now. "You’re already dripping. Don’t act like you didn’t want this."

And when you finally cum, hard and far too messy, crying into the crook of her neck, she only pulls back to flick her cigarette to the ground and pick up her pager.

"There we go," she says, slapping your ass once as she straightens her lab coat, already tucking her pager back into her pocket as if she didn’t make you cum against a wall in under ninety seconds. "See? That wasn’t so hard. Now let’s go save a life."

So yeah. Work is its own flavor of hell. It’s not like you haven’t tried going to HR about it. You have. Multiple times. Every time you walk in there, bright-eyed and shaking, it’s the same damn story.

"Well… they’re really respectable individuals!" "Been working here for years, you know!" "They’re married, actually! That’s sweet, right?" "No, no, it’s not that we don’t believe you - "

But their voices always trail off. Replaced by the sound of glances. The kind that say we don’t get paid enough for this.

There’s always a long pause. Then a wince from the intern behind the desk as he leans over and mutters to his mentor, “She’s crying. Should... we go?”

As if you’re the problem. As if the tears pooling in your eyes are the inconvenience, not the fact that Utahime left bite marks on your chest this morning and Shoko made you cum so hard your knees gave out ten minutes ago, between codes.

Because apparently, it’s hard to take a victim seriously when the predators have tenure and a joint tax return.

You sniffle, wiping your mascara with the back of your hand, smearing it more than anything. Your throat aches from holding it together. You’d rather be elbow-deep in shit and vomit, dealing with feral patients and hysterical family members, than sit through one more condescending HR meeting where your trauma gets filed under “miscellaneous.”

So you do what you always do. You drag your aching feet toward the locker room to clock out after your sixteen-hour shift. Your spine’s screaming, your heart in shambles, and your skin still smells like antiseptic and vomit.

You just want to go home. Take a shower. Pee. And go to bed.

But of course, there's only so much luck a person can have; they’re there.

Shoko and Utahime, mid-argument near the lockers, voices hushed. Shoko’s in her usual low drawl, arms crossed, while Utahime’s biting back fury with a tight jaw and flared nostrils. It’s nothing new. They’ve been circling each other like this for weeks.

Maybe it was just the fatigue. Maybe it was the quiet hum of fluorescent lights. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t eaten a real meal in two days.

But you break. Full-body, shaking sobs right there in the entrance to the locker room with the door shutting behind you. A foreign sound ripped from your throat, something you’ve been holding in since your first shift.

And Utahime is on you in seconds.

No longer in her bright hot pink scrubs, now dressed in something civilian, motherly perhaps, given the sweater. Slender hands move to cup your face, swiping away your tears with the pads of her thumbs. Ignoring the snot and the harsh cries echoing in the room.

"What happened?" she coos, voice sugar-sweet. "Shoko and I aren’t arguing, baby." (They were.)

She strokes your cheek, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Murmuring gentle nonsense into your hair, acting unaware that she is part of the actual problem.

Meanwhile, Shoko zips up her bag in front of her locker with all the emotional investment of someone tossing out biohazard. Her scrubs hit the bottom of the bag with a dull thud, still stained at the cuff from whatever last trauma she patched up, and her voice doesn’t so much as waver as she mutters without looking your way:

"What’s wrong? Worried we’d find out about your little HR complaints?"

Utahime shoots her a glare so sharp it could slice. You’re being mean, she mouths, tight-lipped and furious. Voice softening again the second she turns back to you. Hushing your hiccupping sobs gently, guiding you down to sit on the bench by the steel-grey lockers, her hands never wavering from your skin. You feel yourself go limp under her touch. Sometimes its better to be tended to bare it all yourself.

She moves between your legs and crouches in front of you, knees hitting the floor, perfect posture as always, warm palms sliding up your thighs. Those soft brown eyes blink up at you, too wide and warm, like she’s never done a cruel thing in her life.

"I think you’re a little overwhelmed, baby," she murmurs, her voice like honey melting in tea. "Not everybody’s built for days this long. But it’s okay. Shoko and I can take care of you."

Her voice shakes slightly at the end, not with fear, but barely restrained eagerness. You can feel it in her grip. That tremble, that quiet thrum beneath her skin like she’s thrilled. Behind the blurry shimmer of your tears, you can almost see the smile tugging at her lips. That little spark behind her lashes at the thought: You. At their place. Safe. Caged. Loved.

You glance over at Shoko.

She smiles at you, that lazy half-smirk she always wears post-shift, her tired eyes softer now that the chaos of the ER is over. She looks calm. Pleased, even. Right before she tilts her head and drawls,

"It’d be a shame if the authorities found some... really secure medication in your pockets on your way back to your apartment."

Your breath catches, but Utahime doesn’t even flinch. As if this was what they were arguing about. What to do with you.

She just hums, warm and low, and moves her hand closer to the tender heat between your thighs. Again. What was this now? Your third orgasm of the day? Maybe fourth? It all blurred together at this point.

You shift uncomfortably, trying to squirm away. "I’m too sore," you managed to mumble, voice cracking at the edges. A broken sound.

Utahime hushes you gently, her tone almost maternal as her fingers begin peeling your scrubs down your hips with gentle care.

"Shhh, baby," she coos, folding the fabric like she’s tucking in a child. "Just getting you ready to go home."

But her eyes fixate on your panties, the pretty pink rose in the front, slick with arousal. She leans in, slowly and spreads your sore legs from standing on your feet all day wider. Her pretty pink tongue drags a slow, delicate stripe over the pink cloth, circling your covered clit with cruel, experienced swipes. Dampening the cloth. Her perfectly manicured nails dig into your thighs when you try to close them. Barely hard enough to break skin, leaving pretty crescents for later when you cry in the bath looking at them.

Meanwhile, Shoko speaks casually, as if you’re not gasping from her wife's mouth.

"We got a notice from HR today," she says, nudging your chin up with two fingers. "They wanted to fire you, you know. Said you’d been a real problem lately - all that whistleblowing. But we were kind. We made sure our pretty girl was leaving on a good note... contract-wise."

You whimper as Utahime's tongue presses harder, your panties soaked now, fingers tangling into her hair, dragging against her scalp, as your hips buck without thinking. More. Your body doesn’t care that it hurts. That you’re raw. It just wants.

"We told them the whole thing was a cry for attention. That you weren’t being harassed, you were just trying to get between us. Trying to ruin our marriage."

You try to shake your head. Try to deny her. Try to say something, anything, but all that escapes is a wrecked little moan when Utahime finally hooks her fingers into your sopping panties and drags them to the side. Her breath flutters against your folds, watching you twitch and squirm as she moves to dip in. Kissing your sweet little bundle of nerves softly. Lips brushing against your folds, savoring every little taste of you. Ignoring the musk as she swirls her soft, teasing tongue over your clit.

You jerk when her thumb pushes your folds apart, the humid press of her breath causing your thighs to tremble during her first lick. A long stroke against your entrance, slow and savoring before pushing in.

The thick muscle invading your tight walls as you clench around it. Hips bucking to get her to move faster, alas, she's cruel and keeps a slow pace. A broken sob breaks through your throat. A hum vibrates against your folds, low and sweet, as she laps at you with that gentle insistence that makes your thighs forcibly close. The only thing preventing them is her death grip. Those gentle hands, holding your trembling thighs wide open as you try to writhe away from how good it feels.

A good that should feel wrong.

Your walls pathetically flutter around her tongue, helplessly clenching with each slow press deeper. She wiggles it, twisting just enough to make you gasp, and then does it again. And again.

And again.

You let out another broken, pathetic sound - high and choked - as your head falls back against the wall. Your hips try to jerk forward, trying to ride her mouth as Utahime pulls aware with the sweetest giggle. Using the back of her hand to wipe her mouth.

Shoko lets you writhe and whine for a moment before she reaches out and pulls you into her lap, arms cradling you like a doll. Her legs force yours wider, your body trembling as her slender fingers spread your delicate folds open, keeping you exposed as Utahime presses in again. Her tongue pushes into your fluttering, soaked cunt, fucking you lazily with obscene wet sounds echoing in the sterile locker room.

Shoko leans in, her lips brushing your ear.

"So?" she whispers, grip tightening. "How are you going to save our marriage?"

You can't answer.

Your back arches instinctively, helplessly, as Utahime sinks two fingers deep inside your pussy, knuckles flushed to your slick folds, her wrist working unforgiving strokes into your already sore heat. She’s not speaking anymore. Just watching. Lips parted slightly, sweat beading at her temple, eyes locked on the way your cunt sucks her in, greedy and twitching despite the overstimulation.

It’s too much. You’re raw. You’re pulsing. Your body keeps going even when your mind wants to shut down.

Shoko brushes a stray tear from your cheek with the back of her finger, so sweet you might almost forget what her and her spouse are doing, until she speaks again, voice thick like poison.

"So?"

You don’t answer again. Not even when you try to mutter a please stop. Not when Utahime curls her fingers just right, dragging across your most sensitive spot, and your whole body jolts.

Shoko chuckles softly. Shifts beneath you, keeping you cradled in her lap, her long legs spread wide to hold yours open, while her wife treats you like a patient splayed out on the table.

"I asked you a question, dove," she murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "How are you going to fix what you did?"

Utahime’s pace quickens, her palm slapping softly against your pussy with every cruel thrust. It’s wet. Messy. Loud. Resting her cheek on your thigh, not even wincing at the juice spluttering out of your leaking cunt.

You try to answer. You really do. But all that comes out is a pathetic little whimper, your voice catching as your hips jerk forward. Your hands scramble for something, anything, gripping Shoko’s sleeve, clawing at Utahime’s wrist, but neither woman falters.

"Mmm… that’s not a very good apology," Shoko sighs, fingers trailing down your stomach, pressing just above where Utahime’s knuckles disappear into you. "You lied to HR. You embarrassed us."

"Come on, baby," Utahime whispers against your inner thigh, voice trembling, "show us you’re sorry. Let us feel it."

Shoko reaches between your legs, slipping two fingers around your clit and circling slowly, not to help, but to control the rhythm. Your legs kick. Your head tilts back with a sob.

"There she goes," Shoko purrs, grinning as she watches your eyes roll back. "Sweet little slut’s finally ready to make things right."

And when you cum - again - it hits harder than it should. A scream caught in your throat, muscles clenching down on Utahime’s fingers like you’re trying to trap her inside. The world goes fuzzy around the edges.

But they don’t stop. Utahime pumps you through it, still pushing deep, still chasing the next orgasm like it’s her reward for keeping you.

Shoko leans close again, breath warm on your ear.

"That’s a start," she whispers. "But you’ll have to do better than that if you want to keep your job. Or your apartment. Or your sweet little life."

Your hips are shaking , maybe from exhaustion or even from the orgasm still echoing through your nerves. You barely register the shift until you feel it: Utahime’s third finger pushing in slow, knuckle by knuckle, joining the other two already buried deep inside your fluttering cunt.

You release a sharp gasp, a plea of sorts, and Shoko tightens her hold around you, arms banded over your chest, chin resting on your shoulder as she watches your soaked pussy stretch around Utahime’s fingers.

Utahime just grins. Not the soft smile you’re used to. Not the gentle, nurturing head-tilt of the Pediatrics department head.

No, this smile is hungry.

A little wild.

A little too pleased.

"Oh, look at you, baby," she coos, voice thick with delight. "Taking three fingers like such a good girl."

Her pace slows into a more gentle, not to give you mercy, but to make you feel every inch of her boney fingers. The slide. The stretch. The way her palm presses tight to your clit with each drag back, her wrist rolling just right.

"Didn’t think you could handle it. Thought you were sore, huh?"

You try to answer, but it’s impossible not when your mouth refuses to work work, your brain fizzed out somewhere between her second orgasm and this one.

Shoko clicks her tongue above you.

"If she passes out," she says casually, "that’s consent to take her home, right?"

You twitch, whimper, body arching between them, Utahime’s fingers pushing deeper, rubbing a spot that makes your eyes roll back.

"Mmm. Don’t worry," Shoko murmurs, brushing your hair back, "we’ve already got a room ready. Soft sheets. Bottles prepped."

Utahime doesn’t stop fucking you. Doesn’t even slow down. Her other hand rests possessively on your thigh, keeping you open, spread, obedient.

"We’ve been wanting kids for a while now, haven’t we?" she muses aloud, eyes fixed on where her wife's fingers disappear into you. "Neither of us really had the time… but maybe we just needed the right girl to stay home for us."

You shake your head weakly, but it’s useless when your cunt’s tightening, pulsing around her fingers, slick dripping to the floor with every sloppy thrust.

"Shh," Utahime whispers, listening to the way your cunt sings for her. "No need to think so hard, sweetheart. You’ll get all the rest you need when you're carrying."

All you can manage is a choked moan as you gush around her fingers, body trembling, vision blurring at the edges. You hear her giggle with excitement just before your eyes start to flutter shut.

"You're going to be such a good mommy for us"