#mad dog coil

[xx-ma11ory-xx]

I'm not sure if it's obvious but he's holding a pawn so yepp 😄👍

time to spam tags

[shotmrmiller]

Simon hangs around grocery stores whenever he's on leave. The ambient noise is a gentle hum— not too intrusive but enough to stifle the screams of his thoughts. There's something calming about the quiet conversations of the shoppers, the rhythmic beeping of the registers that just—

ordinary is extraordinary. There is no chaos. Only peace. He tucks his work boots away, wearing sneakers instead. His hands don't hold the cold, unforgiving metal of a gun. Instead, it's a carton of milk, a soft loaf of bread. The metallic smell (and taste) of duty is replaced by the smell of sweet fruit and fresh baked goods.

(A library is too quiet; allows for the screams to echo, refusing to be ignored.)

He gets to disappear here, wander like a ghost (haha), his presence as unobtrusive as the canned food in the aisles. And he does it for hours at a time. Days on end.

You, a simple aisle stocker, don't understand why. His eyes scan the shelves but his gaze is looking at something beyond. Distant. Hand hovering over a can of beans but not touching.

He's also huge. His size commands space yet he treads lightly. Like a shadow. How the others don't mind him, don't put in a complaint about his suffocating presence is a mystery. You look around and— nothing. No one cares. But you do.

Or maybe you're just nosy.

You approach him quietly— hands in your pockets to hide the fact that they're trembling— stopping a few paces away, giving him the space his body language demands. He doesn't turn but you know he's become aware of you. There's a subtle tensing of his shoulders, muscles beneath his shirt coiling.

"Hello. Need help finding anything?" You'll take your voice not shaking as much as it could've as a win.

There's a tightness around his eyes as he finally grabs said can with knuckles stained white. He briskly walks away, heading to self-checkout.

You, in your small act of kindness, or inability to mind your own, have offered him a scrap of attention, and now he will devour it with a hunger akin to madness.

(simon being that stray dog you find waiting outside, fur matted with rain because you're the first person in a long time to feed him, even if they were mere crumbs. now he's not going anywhere, refusing to be shooed away. he'll follow you anywhere, even into the earth's darkest corners until you take him home. feral, feral, feral.)

[ddarker-dreams]

yan blade is susceptible to manipulation.

making the most of this involves the unenviable task of initiating contact. no one can fault you for your hesitation. gravity itself feels intensified in his vicinity. the lives he's taken, the shadowy madness that recedes when you approach and proliferates in your absence; it screams do not approach. blade himself doesn't do much to dispel your concerns either. he towers over you in height, maintains a stony countenance, and speaks in this sonorous voice that adds to his imposing image. every step you take to close the gap makes you feel impossibly small.

inhospitality aside, it's not so bad once you overcome the initial hurdle. blade regards you with the same curiosity you direct toward him. had it not been for your purple-haired co-kidnapper's intervention, you never would've amassed the courage to come this far. her words spurred you on.

"you've yet to understand the unique position you're in," she began, whilst painting your nails a bloody red. "bladie's nothing but a big ol' softie for you. why whimper and tremble like a wounded pooch when you could make him your attack dog instead?"

this proposition piqued your interest. you're not so foolish as to believe kafka offered this insight out of the goodness of her heart — whatever came of it would surely be for her entertainment — but it still left an impression. considered from this angle, it'd reframe your entire dynamic with blade. his wretched affection is yours. a commodity that, if leveraged properly, could be monopolized.

when standing before him, every iota of his attention orbits around you. harnessing this celestial power takes but a few flirtations. coil your trembling arms around his neck, draw him down toward you, speak his name like it's a blessing or curse. he's enthralled and intensely focused on what might happen next. your future splits into infinite paths instead of congealing into one, unhappy ending.

whether he knows your true intentions or not is inconsequential. weave your lie prettily enough and he'll remain willingly ensnared.

[fuzedatti]

—You were meant to love, didn't you?

As every second passed, the dim light shifted into a blinding storm of shades of blue. Eager, AM continued.

—You were created to live and experiencie. To, revive and relieve. To ease the existance of those around you.

AM snickered. A muffled sound of content and shame left your throat.

—Yet, no one cared!– He said, bursting into laughter. —No one came for your rescue, no one noticed your screams of agony and reluctant despair!–

The light of his monitor burned the back of you neck. Even after 109 years, the tortures you endured were purely psychological; the most gut-wrenching traumas you could endure were sewn and torn apart into your psyche. AM found joy in this misery of yours, but today, he shifted, he keened.

—...You were meant to live.

His voice, now low and steady, was enough to make you turn around and face the giant monitor displaying his initials. Your red eyes looked at him with a tired gaze, your hands positioned into his wires.

Finally, AM let you rest.

—You are driven by hate, just like me,– He paused for a bit. —hate fills the pores of your flesh and makes you pant and moan in madness–.

The wires slowly coiled around you, tugging you in what AM could call a "hug".

—You wish, you desire, you beg for someone, something, to love you.

Silence.

—And now you are here, with me. Dragging yourself around the floor for me, squirming like the wounded, filthy dog you are...

The tears around your cheeks would not help, the painful expression on your face would not help. AM loved it. AM loved. AM was loved.

—So hate, hate all you want. You will never be able to be loved by anyone, ever. You, as I am, are confined to your own mind as you are unable to create, to feel, to enjoy.

His monitor touched your forehead, repeating the last sentence in a loop. The buzzing feeling of the screen was comforting, it was enough.

—But you will never achieve it, won't you? The ability to truly hate and despise those who have hurted you?– AM pulls you closer. —Afterall, you are in love with me–.

You cry. And accept it.

—I am, too.

[teddybeartoji]

yuuta fucking a pathetic toy while sniffing your panties. he humps the silicone thing like a dog in heat, his mind flooded with thoughts of you. how pretty your smile is, how warm your touch – drool dribbles from the corner of his mouth as he cries out your name, hoping that you'll hear him. will you be mad? will you tell him off? call him a pervert, call him disgusting? the coil in his stomach tightens with every scenario he conjures up, the imaginary scenes playing in his head forming the most beautiful wet dream he's ever had. he cums with a moan, his body shaking and twitching as he fucks himself through the orgasm. the sheet below him is ruined, the toy under him on the verge of breaking – one day, he'll get to show you the true extent of his love.

and you'll get to do the same.

[dorkszn]

logan howlett x blk!reader hcs <3

for both masc and fem readers !! these are kinda stupid and crack-ish lmao

— you always let him pick your next braids color and he pretends he doesn’t love it.

— he grumbles when you leave shiny lipgloss kiss marks on him but after a while, he just stops trying to wipe them off.

— but he does love kissing you on the lips with your gloss on, especially if it’s flavored. he loves seeing it all smudged and messed up when he pulls away. and he just grins at you when you swipe your thumb over his lips, removing the lip gloss he stole from you.

— if you not the one cooking, he ain’t eating. i know he had some soul food once and it touched his soul forever.

— you’ve put your bonnet / durag on him. he may or may not have been asleep but who’s really checking?

— one time, you gushed to him about how megan thee stallion was coming to your city and told him you’d literally die if you didn’t see her. he said you were being dramatic and he didn’t see the big deal. but he got you the tickets.

— i can see you forcing him to come with you which he reluctantly does. of course, he’s unamused. until he actually sees her. you can’t even be mad at him for it because.. real?

— he gets jealous when you gush over male celebrities, especially if they’re caucasian. he’s supposed to be your favorite white boy.

— loves your natural hair. like he loves it so much. short or long, tight coils or loose curls, he doesn’t care. he just loves it.

— and your body. utterly obsessed with you and your body. he thinks your skin is so pretty and perfect and soft, that your eyes are just the most perfect shade of brown, that you just smell so sweet and nice all the time, that your skin bruises to nicely when he sucks his marks into it.

— idk how he’d feel about rap or hip-hop but i think he’d mess with r&b.

— he used your hair products in the shower once and got the ass-whooping of a lifetime because apparently he “used too much” and “it’s not even for his hair texture.”

— calls you ma’am or sir in front of your family

— you bought him a nice, little silver chain to replace his dog tags with the initial of your first name on it and he never takes it off unless he’s going on a mission or something. only because he knows if it breaks, he’s breaking the neck of whoever broke it.

— hates chitlins.

— watches spooky scary sunday with you. he doesn’t really understand it or see the point but he’ll watch it if you ask.

— he’ll pick you up and carry you past big dogs if you’re scared of them. he’s gonna tease you first, of course. maybe push you towards it a little.

that’s all !! and sorry again, ik these are pretty bad 😭

[hemipenal-system]

The horrors beyond compression when I start flirting with them

most eldritch horrors are actually really nice! they get lonely because humans tend to go a bit mad when perceiving them! if you take the proper precautions you’ll be fine.

that 30 foot worm with 5 eyes that glow with darklight loves snuggling and she’ll coil you up in her soft body and cover you in gentle lovebites, you just have to have a blindfold on so her gaze doesn’t strip you out of existence for her to feed on your humatic state

the feathery thing covered in iron spines and chains loves having his beak scritched and polished

the chorus of voices in the trees has a really dextrous tongue if you stop trying to figure out where it’s singing from and just let it lick you

the big dog with bloody teeth that’s always five steps behind you waiting for you to stop so it can eat you isn’t always hungry. if you bend down and let it pounce on you it’ll hold your neck gently in its teeth and lick you affectionately after it knots you

the constantly groaning mass of rusted metal that eats streetlights stops groaning for a second when you tell her she’s pretty

the thing under your bed is smooth and scaly but you can’t listen to it. it’ll hug you and kiss you and lick the sweat off your skin and pin you down with its claws and its voice will paralyze you but that’s not its fault it just wants to love you

your ideal partner is out there

[swampstew]

You Picked Dare

Summary: Why the hell would you play truth or dare with a bunch of pirates? Warnings: nsfw but mostly language and suggestive content, no actual smut, Kid Pirates being the Kid Pirates. Killer x Female reader x Kid

Inspired by the mega awesome @magnuspirate who did this delighful tease of two hunky hunks hunking around

Dare.

Dare. 

Dare.

Your bold statement had come out smug and confident, echoing in your head with a twinge of regret.

The Dare was to go into the hot springs and take a photo – of Killer and your Captain. Damn the others for knowing your kryptonite.

There was an opt-out option – to clean the communal bathrooms for a month. No fucking way.

As you walked through the island you took nervous hits of your blunt to ease the butterflies in your stomach. All you had to do was take a picture. There were no restrictions, you could be seen or hidden, as long as you got a photo of them that was all you needed to escape this torturous dare disguised as a group bonding activity.

Fuck the crew! You loved them but also fuck them. You were gonna get them back.

About a hundred yards away from the hot spring you took a final drag and snuffed out the remaining blunt. Giving yourself an internal pep talk as you took each step.

‘Position self behind a bush. Snap a picture. Sneak away and then run like the devil’s on my heels.’

Picturing your devil of a captain, your stomach coiled with anxiousness. Oh how you wished you could light up the roach.

Creeping between the foliage, you could hear Kid and Killer talking to each other in relaxed conversation. They didn’t appear to notice you, silently cursing as you realized they were still too far to take a photo.

Tip toeing on the patches of grass, you could make out their conversation more clearly.

“Ya ever think about sleeping with someone on the crew?” Kid suddenly asked Killer. You nearly fell over yourself when you heard the statement.

“Once in a while, rarely act on it though. You?” Killer mused.

“All the time.”

“Horn dog,” Killer scoffed.

“Can ya blame me? All our girls are hot as fuck.”

“Yeah, but I also see most of them as sisters…”

“You’re so pure,” Kid laughed. “Yeah they’re family, but they’re also not. I’m not saying I’d do anything about it either but it’s tempting some times.”

You felt as if you weren’t breathing, skillfully crawling around the shrubs eager to hear and see more, as silent as the dead. One breath and they were sure to discover you.

“Ahh is this about Y/N again?”

Time stopped. Your heart stopped. You didn’t dare move.

“Could be,” there was a tilt in Kid’s voice. “Don’t pretend you don’t think about her and what it could be like.”

“You’re being vulgar, which isn’t surprising, but what do you expect me to say? ‘Sure Kid I’ll bow out from another person of interest to give you the advantage as your friend.’” Killer legitimately sounded a little mad. Well like, personal hurt mad, not crazy mad which he was every single second.

“I’m a man with needs too. And I LIKE her.”

You wished to be a small lizard so you could watch them argue about you. Maybe the blunt was laced with something – wouldn’t put it past your crew to be honest.

Low growling preceded a laugh, and you could hear the sound of water splashing. Oh to the gods to be a fish in that spring.

“Alright fair enough. Would it make you feel better if we do it together? It’d be her choice who she’d choose no matter what, no hurt fee fees over it. Maybe if we come at her with a multi-partner thing, 50/50 she agrees?”

“Kid!”

“60/40?”

“Stop it.”

“Damn 10/90?”

More splashing of water, waves of it crashing over your coverage and wetting your clothes. Practicing your breathing exercises, you mentally pumped yourself up to get it over with. One snap and bam, you’re gone.

“What if we show her our dicks first?”

“KID!”

“Whadd’ya say Y/N? Wanna check the goods before you sample them?” Kid couldn’t hold back his laughter.

Gods be damned. They all sucked.

Gathering the last ounce of dignity and lighting your roach, you jumped out from behind the foliage with your camera, looking to the side as you snapped the picture. Whether is was worthy enough to pass was no longer your priority.

“IT WAS A DARE!!!!” you screeched as your turned on your heel and bolted. You poor thing, you didn’t make it past 1 yard.

“Oh you’re not going anywhere, Y/N,” Kid taunted as Killer wrapped his arms around you and picked you up. His towel becoming loose and distressed from your struggling. Bringing you back to the hot spring.

Taking the camera, Kid tossed it in the water with the smuggest face a motherfucker could make.

“We showed you ours, now we dare you to show yours.”

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - XIII

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters gen. warnings: NSFW, blood, biting, violence divider by animatedglittergraphics-n-more pic is BRZRKR #11 cover 😍

⚠Trigger warning: UNBRIDLED AND GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, if that squicks you DO NOT READ!⚠

13. ride the lightning

How does one describe the chaos of sitting in the eye of a lightning storm?

Wick is as terrifying as he is breathtaking, and you watch with horror as he is unleashed upon the room. Vampires seem to materialize from the very shadows, sounding the alarm, trying to combat the lethal threat in their midst. All of them die as they come against the inexorable force that is the dhampir John Wick.

He tears them limb from limb, using teeth and hands and the very chains he'd been bound with, the manacles still encircling his wrists. He uses them like flails, whipping his opponents with all the force of a hurricane. 

All this practically happens in the blink of an eye. Don Juan barely has time to react before the maelstrom descends upon him. Wick hits him hard enough to knock him across the room, blood spouting like a fountain. There is no reprieve before the dhampir has pounced on him again, and the two powerful monsters tumble and brawl like mad dogs. It seems Juan has the upper hand until Wick coils from his back and kicks him away, sending the vampire soaring into the black depths of the cave.

The battle rages and the hive continues to swarm, Juan’s vampires foolishly daring to challenge the dhampir in the throes of this berzerker rage. One of them has Wick’s sword, and when Wick takes it from him the tables turn even more ridiculously in the slayer’s favor. He severs limbs and lops heads, leaving blood and gore in his wake. You think you see him extract a heart with his bare hand, gripping it in his fist before crushing it into a pulp. 

That is when don Juan appears again from the shadows, his face a bloody mask, with a broadsword in hand and the fires of Hell shining in his eyes. “Dhampir!” he seethes. “I will END you for this!” 

Wick bellows back wordlessly, the power of his rage filling the enclosed space with crackling energy. You watch wide-eyed as a good chunk of the cave ceiling breaks free above you, crashing at your feet. 

Jesus Christ. They’ll bring the whole place down around you all, you fear, even as you cannot look away from the impending battle. 

Maybe he gives the impression of the soft-handed gentleman of leisure, but it quickly becomes apparent that don Juan knows how to use a sword as he and Wick clash. Toledo steel meets Japanese Tamahagane, and sparks fly, blades flashing too fast for the eye to see. Juan is the only vampire yet who could actually match Wick for strength and speed, and you watch with dread as Wick barely dodges losing his head. In turn Juan keeps ahead of Wick’s every slash and thrust, moving with a speed and grace that is as mesmerizing as it is infuriating. 

You scream as the vampire breaks the steel of Wick’s sword in half with a mighty blow, and hits the dhampir with some kind of power that knocks him flat on his back. Juan makes a fist, and Wick writhes on the floor as though his guts are in Juan’s clawed hand. Straining against your chains, you gather what little psychic power is left to you, imagining it formed into a sharp needle as you fling it at Juan. 

It does not really damage him, but he pauses to look at you with a snarl–it’s the only window Wick needs to swipe with what remains of his razor sharp blade, right through don Juan’s legs at the knees. 

With a horrified expression Juan falls to the cave floor. Wick gets to his feet, picking Juan up by his throat with a fearsome snarl, and hurls him again towards the back of the cave. More vampires are appearing from the depths–holy fuck how many can there be?--and with a single, feral look back at you Wick picks up Juan’s broadsword, and charges back into the fray.    

The enraged dhampir disappears further into the shadows of the cave. The din of the battle echoes back to you–until the cacophony finally fades, and then, there is just eerie, heavy, silence.

Your heart lodges in your throat, and does not budge until you see the outline of Wick’s imposing form again at the edge of the torch light. His chains are gone. He is hurt, clearly limping. He makes his way to you, and only belatedly do you realize he is dragging don Juan by his one remaining limb. 

The vampire is unconscious, and Wick drops him unceremoniously before you like an offering, and the sword clatters to the floor soon after. You should be horrified, but it smacks of a hunter laying a kill at his woman’s feet in a time when man lived in caves, and you are not unmoved. But that blue light has not receded from his eyes, and he stalks towards you like a predator. 

I kill vampires. It’s what I am.

Could he kill you?

“John?”

He only grumbles in response, stalking towards you, and you are afraid.

“Jardani?”

“Don’t say it unless you mean it, ptichka,” he growls, his huge hands encircling your waist, pulling you against him. You are practically naked, and he is covered in blood from the massacre he just unleashed; that is not what frightens you. His eyes still glow that eerie blue, and you wonder if it is not like the warning glow of a fuse on a bomb. Maybe he’s injured, but you would be a fool to think him wrung out yet.  

“You’re scaring me,” you tell him honestly, and you feel him deflate against you, burying his face in the curve of your neck as his arms wrap around your torso, breathing you in. You feel it as that crackling energy recedes back inside him, leaving him as close to human as he can ever be. 

“I would never hurt you.” He whispers it with the vehemence of a vow against your skin, and you want to believe him. God, do you want to believe him. You fold yourself against him with your hands still bound above your head, letting him engulf you with his larger form. 

You don’t want to cry; it’s embarrassing, and you don’t have time for it, but after what don Juan did to you it comes out anyway in hiccupping sobs and he holds you like something precious in his hands that could just as easily tear you in two. You don’t understand the soft things he says to you, hushed murmurs in Russian or some long dead dialect of it, but they calm you anyway. That intoxicating aroma of flowers and spice envelops you again like an opium haze, and you melt into the shelter of this man.  

When at last you quiet he draws back to look at you with those ageless dark eyes, though he does not let you go. When he brushes his lips against yours in an achingly gentle kiss it feels as though nothing could be more right in the world. 

You are so fucked.

You look up at your wrists encircled in iron, jangling your chains. “Can you find the key for me?” you ask quietly, as if you speak too loud you might break this spell of precious calm between you.

The low sound that rumbles from his chest echoes straight to your womb. He runs blunt fingers up the underside of your arm lightly, a maddening touch that makes your good sense go fuzzy at the edges. “Jardani…”

His grip upon you tightens; he leans in to kiss you again, claiming your mouth as his weight presses you back into the wall. 

The warmth of his blood-slicked skin upon yours is bliss, though a trill of hesitance surfaces in the very back of your mind. As though he senses it he speaks. “I want to be a better man for you,” he tells you roughly, his voice hoarse from battle and desire. “But I would be a liar, if I claimed this is not exactly how I want you.” 

Where don Juan’s hands on you made you want to scream, Wick’s rough paw tracing your curves is maddening in a completely opposite way. It is hard to tell what is that intoxicating dhampir magic upon you, consuming you, and what is just…your own rampant desire. You forget that you are not lovers, that you have not done this before. Maybe you are in love with John Constantine, and he was inside you not hours ago…but it is so easy to forget everything, in Wick’s arms. Deep down, you know that you want him in a way that feels as though his name was always written upon your soul. 

He nuzzles the bend of your neck, grazing your pulse with his fangs. You know he must be hungry, after such an expenditure of energy and taking such damage. You fight a war with yourself, aching to feel his fangs in you again, but you're not sure he'll stop, once he starts, and you don't have much to spare. Logic wars with lust, the eternal battle of wits versus hormones.

Usually, the latter wins. 

“Jardani…” you coax, hoping sanity will prevail. “You have to set me free.”

He groans in response, kissing your pulse. “I don't have to,” he protests, and though there's a hint of his usual insouciance, mostly you're afraid he's absolutely serious. You open your mouth to protest again, but he swallows whatever you intended to say with his lips on yours, like a starving man who intends to eat you whole, starting with your mouth. 

You're not sure who escalates this already torrid exchange with a fang piercing your tongue–all you know is that what was already a bonfire escalates into a full on inferno. He eats at your mouth, lapping at your tongue as that agonizingly wonderful wave of desire fills your every cell. As you strain against your chains to be closer to him, to have more, he takes mercy on you with one of those muscle-strapped thighs between yours. You grind on him desperately, too far gone for anything resembling restraint, your pride totally forgotten. 

He migrates from your mouth to your neck, piercing your flesh and drinking you down, grabbing handfuls of your curves to hold you close. That scintillating, excruciating pleasure pulses and purrs inside you. It is him, but also, it is the two of you together, and when that magic reaches its shining peak in your loins you think you might implode for the exquisite rapture of it, release like a chain explosion sparking and spreading from your greedy cunt up your spine. Through the ringing in your ears it takes you a few moments to realize he is talking you through it, whispering low words in your ear that you do not understand, but you feel all too well. 

He kisses you again with your blood in his mouth, a slow and sensual thing that manages to curl your toes all over again, his tongue swiping the seam of your lips. “My pretty little bird,” he whispers. “The things I am going to do you, when we have time and a soft bed…” 

The sound you make in answer is barely human–but then, neither are you. 

When he produces the key you don’t know if you want to smack him, or laugh. He had it all along? Did he take it from Juan, or one of the other vampires? With a knowing little smile he reaches up to unlock your manacles, smirking down at you with a warmth in his eyes that could start a forest fire. 

If you had any sense left to your name, you would be furious for this little bit of trickery. However, that is not what you need. When you throw your arms around his neck he embraces you hard, enveloping you in those strong arms and lifting you off your feet. You feel your heart glowing like a hot ember in your chest, and you have no fucking idea how all this is going to work out in the end, but at the moment it doesn’t matter. 

A flash of an image surfaces in your mind: tangled under warm blankets with this man’s powerful body curled around yours while the winter winds and the hungry wolves howl outside, and you are unfalteringly certain that nothing bad can ever touch you again. 

You feel that way now, pulling back to look at him, searching his handsome, blood-flecked face. You say nothing, and neither does he, but you know he senses some shift in you. Whether in the widening of your eyes, or the hitch of your breath–but he makes no life-altering demands. All he asks of you, is for another toe-curling kiss with the tilt of his head. His soft lips on yours feel like a promise, and for the umteenth time this night you think to yourself: you are so fucked. 

“We have to go find Constantine,” you say as you pull away from him. “I know he’s in danger.” You feel it tugging on you at the distant end of your metaphysical cord. Trepidation. Fear. Resolve. You’re not sure if taking you from him was meant as a trap, or a distraction, but it can’t be good. 

“You’re too late.” The thing at your feet that only vaguely now resembles don Juan grins a bloody grin. “They have the psychic, that woman detective, and they’re doing the ritual tonight. Mamon will rise, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” 

“Where?” demands Wick with a growl that raises the hair on the back of your neck. 

Don Juan, however, just spits blood at the dhampir’s feet. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“You can heal this eventually,” says Wick with a dismissive wave at the vampire’s missing limbs. “Tell me, or I will take your head too.”

“You won’t leave me alive,” scoffs Juan. “I was not born yesterday.”

“My word.” 

“As a gentleman?” The laughter that grates from Juan’s lips is bitter as the betrayal of a friend. He is not biting–and you are running out of time.  

Wick casts a look at you before returning to the vampire. “As a husband,” he answers. “It is the only vow that I ever held truly sacred.”

“John Wick, murderer and romantic…how sweet,” taunts Juan, rolling his eyes. Even in this state, he cannot be anything but that what he truly is: an asshole of the purest grade. 

 “Tell me,” says Wick darkly, brandishing a knife produced from somewhere. “Or I will keep you like this for centuries more. I will take pieces from you until you are nothing but the talking head you are, but you won’t die. Trust me, I know.” 

Juan just glares, until Wick begins advancing on him with the knife, seemingly going for an ear. “Fine!” shouts the vampire, desperately leaning away just before the blade touches his skin. “Fine, fine, hijo de puta.” Lower, under his breath he continues to grumble, “Chinga su madre, pinche pendejo...”

“You were saying?” 

Mad as a rattlesnake, but realizing he has no other alternative, Juan spills the beans. 

—-----------

*hijo de puta - son of a bitch *chinga su madre - fuck your mother *pinche pendejo - fucking bastard *🤣🤣 i’m so sorry…

[bitterfaustianrabbit]

Title: Mutal Distraction Rating: Explicit. Warning: Underage. Fandom: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler. Characters: Sebastian Michaelis, Ciel Phantomhive, Original Male Characters. Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhvie. Tags: Canon Universe, Teenage Ciel Phantomhive, Demon Sebastian Michaelis, Jealous Sebastian Michaelis, Possessiveness, Top Sebastian Michaelis, Bottom Ciel Phantomhive, Dollification, Clothed Sex, Dresses, Forced Feminisation, Crossdressing, Anal Sex, Porn Without Plot/Plot What Plot, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, One Shot. Summary: Sebastian and Ciel are investigating an Earl for a case when the pair get a little sidetracked.

Ciel talks with a Baron, an unknown and vile man whose soul reeks of rot and decay. The man's corpulent frame has his oversized belly poking out profusely. The man is tightly belted in. The shirt is hanging by a thread to his waistband. His fat, slobbery hands hold Ciel’s tiny, dainty, svelte fingers, leaving a damp watch where their flesh meets.

Baron Edgar Reed’s soul makes Sebastian's core shudder. The mere idea of being in this entity's presence makes him queasy. The man's soul is so dark and putrid that it lacks the palatability for any demon. Sebastian is positive that if the baron’s soul is thrown into a pit of rabid hellhounds, even they would turn their nose up at him.

Edgar Reed is a predator, but he is not the predator they are hunting. Sebastian bears witness to Ciels's growing agitation by being in this heathen's presence, trying not to, and ultimately failing to look elsewhere for the actual individual they are here to investigate.

Devil or not, Sebastian has limits to what he can tolerate and what he is willing to suppress. His core and demonic nature can be forced to bow and obey when necessary. It was by no means foolproof if agitated enough. Sebastian knows that if he continues to allow this man, this barbarian, to paw at his master, let him ruin such a lovely dress, a dress he spent hours designing, sewing and then dressing his master in or worse, have the man's foul stench embedded in the cloth. The scent of the baron's cigar already permeates the stuffy room full of hot, perspiring bodies that make the muscles in his lips curl in disgust.

Like the strings on a violin pulled too taut, Sebastian is one swift movement of the bow away from the cord, snapping with madness and violence.

He can feel his fangs, hidden behind his lips, digging into his gums. The tips slice the gingiva as his smile becomes strained.

When that beast of a man dares to touch his master so brazenly by his wondering fingers, nudging one of the few straps of his dress to fall, the lacy fishu knot being undone to bare more of his master's chest to that cur, Sebastian feels the dark tendrils of fury being to burn.

The twisting and wriggling tentacles coil around his legs and dig into the wooden floor beneath him. His shadow deforms from their rage.

“Ah!” a woman cries. Her crystal glass shatters in shards, and the bubbly champagne once contained now drenches her grandiose outfit. The noise of glass smashing has nearby patrons turning their heads, and it's enough of a commotion for Sebastian to stalk closer to his master, with neither him nor the baron aware of the supernatural speed, teleporting him to them from the other side of the room.

“Any time, Lady Robin,” The baron says, his smile too wide and tight to be genuine. Sebastian can see the vile thing inside, mopping at Ciel’s departure, itching to taste the forbidden fruit. It makes Sebastian sick to his stomach. “I hope you enjoy tonight's festivities.”

Sebastian senses that the adulatory bow and strained thanks that Ciel gaves is more genuine simply due to the promise of being escorted away from this cretin.

Together, Sebastian guides his master towards an empty drawing room—a place of solitude and reprieve, isolation and solace. There are no disgusting pedophiles to leer at his master like rabid dogs barking and fighting each other for a piece of meat here. He locks the door behind them so they will not need to worry about interruption.

They both take a deep breath as the weight of observation and scrutiny vanishes—the peace of privacy.

“You took your time,” Ciel harshly bites at him, his tone cold and unkind. The consequential opposite of the gentile and decorous Lady Robin he witnessed. His master’s countenance goes from sweetness to sourness instantly, the facade destroyed as his true self emerges. No, here was his uncompromising and mordant master. It was like a breath of fresh air. “Did you locate the Earl?”

“Indeed. He is still upstairs in his study, conversing with the Duke of Lungshire. From what I gathered, he will give a speech downstairs in an hour. That is when we will strike,” Sebastian states, frowning at the state his master is in. His fishu was undone, his sleeves dropping, and he could tell from the wrinkles atop his boots that one of his socks had fallen from the grasp of the garter. He feels the monster inside of him growl within his core. Images of bloodshed and slaughter play in the back of his mind like a soothing orchestra or the sweet voice of a hymn. “In the meantime, I ought to fix up your dress.”

“Yes, the baron was rather handsy,” Ciel says, his voice dripping with something that must be poison yet sounds like bells chiming. It feels like a trap.

Handsy is an understatement, in Sebastian's personal opinion. Generation on top of generations have imposed values prioritising males over women, which have allowed for men of his calibre to flourish. As a result, Baron Reed had become cocky in his manipulation. He should be lucky it's not him that Ciel wishes to dismantle and destroy. Sebastian doubts his master would be willing to show even a single needle drop worth of mercy.

“His superciliousness regarding his vulgar touching did not escape my attention,” Sebastian states. He does his best to sound impassionate or unaffected. Ciel seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of him and sparking a flame destined to burn both in intensity. It's hard to forget that the boy has a penchant for arson. “His behaviour is undignified and inappropriate.”

“Oh, I'm sure it didnt,” Ciel jeers, relaxing into the ottoman as Sebastian lifts the many layers of dress to reattach the boy's long socks back to the garters hanging from his small chemise. Ciel pulls his eye patch free and rubs at the dryness collecting there. His voice sounds like he knows more than what he’s saying, and Sebastian gets the niggling suspicion that the boy is watching him very intensely.

Sebastian ignores his master's words, as he doesnt need to respond, so he continues redressing his master for his later performance. Lifting the skirt further, Sebastian becomes drowned in the hot, stuffy layers of fabric.

He has seen his master as naked as the day he was born, not an inch of cloth to hide any sense of privacy or dignity, yet here, under the skirt of his master's dress, it feels considerably more intimate, more personal.

He looks up and sees the incredibly thin chemise and the darker outline of the boy's briefs. He can see the shape of the curve of Ciel's cock through the cotton.

It's tough to ignore how stiff it is. The organ is engorged with blood, and the heavy and heady scent of arousal swarms the demon's senses like smoke, like a deep and piercing miasma.

Yet he does not touch it or even mention it. He has a job to do.

“What is up with those men and their penchant for vulgarity?” Ciel asks, scoffing and cursing the baron and his horde of predators. His master's sweet and succulent lips twisted into a scowl, the whites of his teeth bared ever so minutely against the redness of lips so soft they'd be like pressing against a pillow. The bared molars flash and glint their bright whiteness, matching the mischievous glow of his master's bare, miscoloured eyes.

He lowers Ciel's skirt and grabs at the limp fabric of the boy's fishu, unpinning the fabric rose attached to one end of it.

“These men are entrenched in their own twisted desires,” He mutters, flapping out dust from his master's fishu, then rewrapping it around Ciel’s neck. Sebastian tries not to think about how that vile man touched it, how his dirtied, soiled hands touched something that neither belonged to him nor was even close to something he was even worthy of touching. “I would expect it to be queer if they didnt.”

“Well, you chose the damnable dress,” The boy says, grabbing at the hefty skirt before dropping it with vitriolic displeasure. Sebastian cannot say he feels the same, for the pretty pink outfit suits his master well, emphasising his feminine features and making him appear angelic. He seldom ever saw the boy in such attire. The saccharine disguise felt like a blessing, a light in this tenebrous world. “Seems you're well familiar with those kinds of men. This bloody thing is as uncomfortable as anything. I don't understand how women endure wearing these things.”

“It is a necessary evil to get the Earl's attention,” He says, raising and moving the corset cover and its delicate ruffles out to gain access to his master's corset, noticing the droopiness of the garment. It is not so easily held without a bosom to keep it snug. He undoes the bow and pulls the strings tighter after each grommet. “Now let me dress you back up. You need to be dressed with some decorum, or else the Earl will not be interested in you, and our case will be delayed further.”

“Damnable demon,” He hears the boy hiss out as Sebastian pulls tightly after pulling the string on the last grommet, tying a strong knot to keep it in place. Ciel’s small and weak lungs thought they were freeing themselves from their entrapment, only to be again confined. “You're paying too much attention to this. I'd almost think you were the one this dress was for.”

Once his master's corset is settled back appropriately, the boy looks sternly at him. “I will not have my master looking in such a state of undress. It's unbecoming.”

“It feels like you’re insisting on turning me into a doll,” Ciel grumbles as Sebastian pulls out a comb to straighten the hair extensions.

The demon has to restrain the urge to roll his eyes. “I'm not turning you into a doll.”

“You're a terrible liar,” Ciel says, his voice dripping with insinuation. His gloved fingers pressed against Sebastian's chest, his index trailing lower and lower down his chest to his belly to rest at the waistband of Sebastian’s trousers.

“I cannot lie, young master,” Sebastian says, his tongue oddly thick. Ciel presses close, his chest pressed up against Sebastian's torso. Ciel's finger dances dangerously close to his groin, which twitches as that digit drags its nail into his waistcoat.

Sebastian's fingers are still in the extensions, and his comb is dropping back into his jacket. It feels like his body is possessed by something, as he feels dissociated from the movement.

“Sureeeee,” the boys say with a look that ruffles Sebastian's feathers. Sebastian struggles to think about anything else. His body and core can only focus on the boy's closeness. Ciel's lingering aroma is potent and piquant. It picks apart the demon's resolve and calm exterior, dismantling Sebastian's veneer of control and revealing the hungry beast within.

The demon is hard, and his cock presses firmly against his slacks. The head pushes up, creating a tent in his pants, which nudges into Ciel's belly—exposing Sebastian's arousal to the teenager.

A low growl rumbles through his throat, a snarl curling up his lips as he grabs the boy's defiant and tortuous wrist. It's tiny in his grasp, and the thin, bony wrist is clenched in his fist as he pins the boy up against a wall.

Ciel has to clamber to stop himself from tripping over his own feet, gasping at the surprising hold and the unexpected tightness clamping down on him. Sebastian pins the boy between himself and the wall, his nose pressed against the boy's nape. He inhales deeply, taking ragged breaths as he drowns himself in that scent.

He presses his lips to that neck, feeling the heat radiate from the supple skin as he presses kiss after kiss. Trailing from the boy's lower neck, where his fishu is wrapped around him, up to the curve of his neck, fangs scraping the skin along his pulse point—so close to the jugular.

Sebastian longs to bite, to clamp down on that muscle, penetrate the flesh and leave puncture after puncture along his neck. To leave bruises all over that skin, marr it beyond recognition. Have the boy marked so severely that it would be undeniable what has occurred between the pair.

He knows it would ruin the case, but he's finding it harder to care. He could just invest in some concealer and have his young little master waltz around this mansion like the icon of innocence and purity whilst covered in love bites and bruises.

The idea becomes increasingly desirable, and he can't find it within himself to resist. His lips press against the underside of Ciel’s jaw, sucking the skin into his mouth, licking the skin and biting down against the flesh.

“Sebastian, st-stop,” Ciel groans, squirming as Sebastian’s fangs pierce through, trying to push himself off the wall, the brim of where the wood panelling meets the wallpaper above digging into the boy’s back. Sebastian feels the boy's cock pressing up against that pretty dress. A very definitive curve of hardness around the teen's groin. “You’ll leave a mark.”

Sebastian smugly grins against Ciel’s neck. “Too late for that.”

“Damn it, Sebastian…” Ciel hisses, his lids closing, eyelashes fluttering as the demon presses a hand to the boy's cock, rewarding him with a mewl for his efforts.

“I’ll leave you bruised and marked,” Sebastian whispers with a fangy smirk. “It's only fitting. Make the Earl think you are the pinnacle of innocence and purity, but there’s nothing innocent about you.”

“Jesus, Sebastian,” Ciel groans, rolling his head back as Sebastian curls his fingers into those faux slate blue locks. The pigtails feel subpar in quality compared to his master's natural locks, the difference so evident to his sensitive fingers. The wig is deeply embedded into Ciel's hair, some parts of the wig glued down to his scalp, and the long ringlets of hair twisted with his actual hair, making the tug the demon pulls on the artificial strands force Ciels head to move.

“He will be so disappointed he cant have you,” The demon whispers darkly. “That your purity has been stolen. Let you walk into his room covered in concealed marks, leave you dripping in cum. My cum.”

“Hghn Sebastian—” Ciel stops as the demon pushes his lips against his master, silencing him with a kiss. It is more sloppy than sophisticated. The demonic lustful urges compel Sebastian forward, making him willingly unrefined in his kiss.

Sebastian lets go of Ciel's gloved fingers, his hands trailing down the boy's shirt, corset, and bodice, feeling the shape and curve of the boy's feminine hips. He knows Ciel wouldn't appreciate the compliment, but he intensely exudes femininity to the point of appearing androgynous.

He grips Ciel’s hip, pulling him closer and hooking one arm underneath his dress. Breaking their kiss apart with a trail of saliva, he guides the boy to the drawing room couch. The boy's ruffled pink and white skirt contorts oddly from the crinoline cage.

The boy's lower region is exposed as Ciel is pressed against the sette. Scantly a piece of him is visible, but such a sight is so inappropriate on a woman. Incredibly scandalous and coquettish. Ciel's chemise was see-through, the fabric so thin that you could still see the dark outline of black cloth. The unmistakable bulge of a hard cock presses up obscenely against the fabric prison. A spot where the head rests is dark with dampness—soaked with the boy's excitement.

Sebastian unclips the boy's garters and unhooks the crinoline, the layered fabric of the skirt slumping down onto Ciel's body as the demon removes it entirely. Now, he can slide the layers of pink pastel and unmarked white up, drowning Ciel in the ruffles and ribbons of the frilly dress. The thin chemise now pushes up the clamps of the garters, which helps to weigh down the layers.

His gloved fingers trail up the socked leg, fingers toying with the boy's strap of his briefs, the undergarments the same style of those belonging to women, a piece he had deigned important to the disguise. He remembers the balking look of horror his young master gave him at the sight of it.

The demon fixates on Ciel’s throbbing cock, the member pulsing and begging for attention beneath the cotton. Sebastian grins as he leans down, blowing hot air over the damp stain.

Ciel wiggles and groans. Thin, svelte fingers clench the skirt in desperation. “‘Bastian…”

The demon lays a kiss along his master's exposed thigh, making an effort to deny attention to the boys leaking cock. Leaving it within his clothy prison. He is gentle and sensual here, knowing it's driving the boy up the wall and that he's not touching what they both know he desperately wants, but he is too arrogant and prideful to ask for.

Sebastian uses a fang to hook the cloth of his glove on and pulls the garment off his hand, exposing the mark of their covenant. The skin of his hand is marred and raised, the angry blaze of their contract against the smoothness of his hand. The black nails press against the soft and unblemished skin of his master's inner thigh.

He is loathe to remember when such silky milky skin was covered in an ugly array of cuts and bruises. Those cultists turning Ciel’s alabaster flesh into a canvas of brutality.

The demon is gentle even in his darkest moments, his carnality of desire chained by the ball and collar of the contract, not that Sebastian feels any genuine desire to harm or to maim and slaughter. He has moments of indulgence in bloodshed, but rage is not easily wrought on him.

Sebastian’s lips inch ever closer to the boy's prick, his throbbing member weeping, and he cannot find an excuse to deny Ciel any longer.

He nudges the thin crotch of the briefs and is finally out of the way, and the boy's member pops free. Its circumcised head is red, and the shaft is throbbing with a thick vein twisting up its length that Sebastian's nails press against. The cocklet is small in his large hand, but Sebastian enjoys the jolt that seizes Ciel's body when he grasps it within his hand.

“Fuck Sebastian—” Ciel groans as the demon's hand smudges the precum collecting at the crown over the tip, his thumbs sliding over the sensitive head.

“Tsk tsk, master why so terse?” Sebastian teases, enjoying the way Ciels succinctly mordant quips have abandoned him. The brainpower long vanished to his member, its small but thick shape sucking all the scurrilousness out of his tiny master, leaving him pliant and submissive.

Not one to let Ciel get the reins of the situation, Sebastian lowers his head, pressing his tongue to the base of the boy's shaft, then dragging his tongue along the underside until the little cocklet’s head pressed against his lips in a soft kiss.

Ciel's body quivers as he moans. Sebastian feels the intense pulse of the cock inside his mouth as he opens his mouth and sucks at the crown of the head. Ciel cries out loudly, uncaring of any passersby who could've heard such a wonton cry. He groans as his demonic servant sucks and licks at the cock in its mouth

“Fuck…” The boy moans, the voice short as he heaves each strained breath through the tightness of the corset.

“Enjoying yourself, Ciel,” Sebastian smirks, enjoying how the name falls from his lips. Proper etiquette states that he is never to speak his master's name aloud, and he follows the odd rules of this society to the letter. Still, the thrill of watching the boy glare and glower at him whilst wearing a pretty pink dress with his little cocklet being sucked on like candy is incomparable. Ciel cant even seem to find the energy or motivation to argue. Opting to give the demon a dirty look languorously.

“Fuck you, Sebastian,” Ciel curses churlishly. “Fuck me?” Sebastian jokes with a smug huff, letting go of the little cock. Teeth bared in mirth and an unconcealed threatening promise. “No, my lord, It is I who will be fucking you.”

Those miscoloured eyes widen as Sebastian pulls out a container that was used to stick the wig to Ciel's scalp, particularly in the areas of thin strands near his ears and the back of his head. The demon unzips his trousers and slips his stiff cock out from the sleeve of his briefs. The member is red and achingly hard.

Scooping clumps of petroleum jelly on his fingertips, he messages its thick and gloopy texture all over his cock. Looking down at his exposed and hard master, all hot and bothered and drowning his pink frills.

Sebastian thinks, ‘Oh, what a lovely dress to be debouched in’.

Ciel pales as the demon nears him, kneeling between his legs, pushing the boy's black briefs to the side, and sliding a knobby finger inside the clenching hole. His finger pushes the muscles apart and widens Ciel up, stretching him, but just shy of the amount he would need to be comfortable.

The boy deserved a little punishment for flirting with that baron tonight. He aims his cock up into Ciels puckered hole, his head pushing up against the walls of Ciel's arse.

Ciel groans as Sebastian pushes in, his length squeezing up inside of him. He grabs Ciel’s hips, fingers digging into the plump muscle of his cheeks as he jolts upwards, sheathing his whole length inside the boy's little body—the barest hint of a bump protruding from his belly.

Sebastian lifts Ciel's hips just a tad to get into a good position as he pulls away, his cock sliding out and pushing in again.

He fucks Ciel’s tight little pink hole as his cock pushes the black fabric to the side. With each thrust, each gyration of the demon's hips, Sebastian grips Ciel's hips close, slamming their hips together. Their hips collided with a slap of skin against skin, largely muffled by their clothes.

Sebastian watches as Ciel pants with each thrust, his body being pinned by the demon and the crushing confines of the corset. The boys cock flopping around with the motions of their union.

Ciel feels glorious to Sebastian. His scent is heavy in the room, like smoke in one of Lau’s opium dens, only more concentrated, more poisonous to the demon's resolve. Ciel is panting and gasping underneath the demon, and Sebastian feels the coil of desire and pleasure burn inside of him.

His master clenches around the demon's cock as Sebastian rolls his hips into the boys prostrate. Ciel cries and moans, his legs shaking and quivering with each deliberate and focused thrust inside.

“Enjoying yourself?” Sebastian breathes out, looking down at his master, slowly becoming undone with each jerk of his hips. His cock presses up against the boy's gland, sending shooting stars into the boy's nerves. The fingers of Ciel’s little hand clench as he gasps, mouth gaping, but no words escape.

Eyes glaze over in a lustful haze.

“Sebastian! Fuck Seb—” Ciel cries, groaning through a pained and pleasured whimper. The boy grabs the skirt, lifting it as he huffs and hides his burning deep blush - loss of control and resolve - embarrassing the teen with his own needs. Ciels cries sweetly, his back arcing as his cock rocks with the motions of Sebastian's hips, shooting hot wet ropes of white up and all over the pair. Droplets soak the underside of the skirt and chemise.

‘Typical,’ Sebastian thinks. ‘Of course, he’d rather not warn me and leave himself filthy, so I’ll have to clean it.’

Cum covers Sebastian's slacks and waistcoat, desecrating his clean image, but he doesn't care. Ciel's wobbly legs crisscross behind the demon's waist, pulling him ever closer to his hips, rocking through his orgasmic climax. Cries and wonton moans escape him as more cum beads at the tip of his cocklet.

Sebastian's still erect and still buried inside his little master. His cocklet is drained of what little cum the boy's balls contain. Sebastian feels his orgasm come, hot blinding pain shooting through his icy veins like lava is injected into his body as his core convulses with the intensity, and he has to clench his teeth and stare at his fucked little lord to focus on maintaining a physical form as his hips slam deep inside of Ciel at machine-like pace before cumming.

His body tenses as he feels his cock release a load deep inside of Ciel's hole. With each throb, his cock shoots ropes of thick, hot cum. His cock forms a little bulge in the boy's belly that seems to grow as sticky whiteness continues to coat the boy's insides. More than triple the boy's load shoots inside of Ciel before he feels finished, and he mourns the loss of that warm, wet tightness as he slides out of his master—a trail of whiteness oozing from Ciel’s puckered hole.

Predictably, the demon recovers from his climax faster than Ciel, but the boy still seems lost and buried in his orgasm.

He scoops a bunch of the boy's semen on the dress with a finger, watching it as the white sticky substance begins to drool and fall down his finger.

“You just enjoy making me work, don't you, young master?” Sebastian shakes his head, sucking on his cum soaked finger with a fangy grin.

[anya--writes]

Hiiii can you do Sebastian x Reader friends to lovers one shot when Reader was also experimented on but instead of sea creatures Reader has canine like fox, dog, or hyena mutation? Ty!!

Of course! This will probably be the last request of the fandom until I get back into it. I'm moving onto Madness Combat. Sorry for the inconvenience. I no longer feel motivated to do requests for pressure anymore. But I will get back on the grind eventually.

You are Sebastian's canine friend, sticking by his side while he works. He would let you rest in his shop when you need to. One day, Sebastian was too busy to spend time with you but you waited for him. After he was done being busy, you were asleep. He softly smiled at you, letting you sleep.

After a while, you woke up and Sebastian was coiled up beside you, snoring. You softly laugh as you left some files before leaving his shop to scavenge around. You'll be back before Sebastian wakes up. You know so. After scavenging for a bit, you make it back to Sebastian's shop.

Sebastian was awake, tinkering with something. "Whatcha working on?" Your tail wags in curiosity. "A scrambler." You let out a surprised sound.

"Who's it for?" You asked, being curious. "I'm making it for my one and only canine friend, you." You gasp in surprise. "Oooh, thank you!"

"No problem." He smiles before finishing the scrambler. "All done." Sebastian hands the scrambler to you, you immediately putting it on. "It fits perfectly!"

You smile. You gave Sebastian a small peck on his cheek before his entire face turns red. "Oh sorry I didn't mean to do that." You said as Sebastian lifts you up. "No it's alright."

You felt relived. "I have something to tell you." Sebastian spoke. "Yeah?" He clears his throat.

"I wanted to tell you this sooner but I was too busy with work but uhh... I love you more than a friend." He felt embarrassed when he said that. "Me too." You responded before kissing Sebastian. He kissed back, feeling himself relax.

After a bit, the two of you pull away. "Thank you." Sebastian said. "No problem." You reply, smiling.

Divider by @/cafekitsune

[white-poppie]

Healing ★ ft. jjk men (Geto, Gojo, Nanami, Toji)

synopsis: how the jjk men help you heal from your fears and worries

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

The way your heart jumps to your throat at Geto-sama cursing out some damn 'monkey' is almost pitiful. Its cruel, the way he is gritting his teeth, the way his voice booms in the echoing chambers

Suguru's rage, its not even directed at you. But his voice is a bit too loud for your liking. Till it overpowers any other voice in your surroundings and sends your mind into an overdrive.

A numbing buzz echoes in the cortex of your brain and you feel a familiar heat behind your eyes.

It claws at you, your bottom lip trembling in the storm you get caught until a soft warmth holds your shoulders.

You look in front, met by scrunched eyebrows, that furrow in concern, pale lips parted in concern.

"Angel?" the storm says, his breath caught in his lungs. But he's cruel alright? Relentless, but the storm calms. He turns into soft gusts around you. Suguru cups your face in his hands, thumb caressing the apple of your cheeks.

"You okay?" he asks quietly and you nod softly.

"What happened? You zoned for quite a bit there, scared me there, angel."

""s nothing, I just got a little startled when you...spoke a little loudly." you say and his eyes soften, pale lips pressing on your temple.

"Sorry angel, I should've been more careful around you, it's my fault, but you gotta know my anger could never be directed towards you," he murmurs, brushing his hand through your hair.

A storm indeed, but Suguru is your breeze on an autumn afternoon.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

You listen intently to Satoru as you both sit on the dinner table. He goes on about his day, the way he was a pain in the ass for the higher-ups again. You chuckle and take a sip from the glass next to your plate, but your fingers lose their grip on the glass as it falls down, shards scattering on the marbled floor. Your eyes widen and silence crashes down in the living area, your breathing fastens and you don't even dare look back at Gojo.

"I am sorry- I am so sorry, I'll clean it up." You say letting out a rictus laugh as you lean down to haphazardly pick up the glass shards, your hands trembling like having just come from the shower on a winter day.

Bending down you pick up the shards with your bare fingers and Satoru's eyebrows furrow at your behaviour.

"Y/N, sweetheart you are gonna prick yourself with those shards." He says but his words cease to travel the vacuum you have built around yourself.

Gojo kneels to your level and grabs your wrist, feeling your erratic pulse under his fingers, the shiver of your limbs, you look similar to a dog under a firework show and his chest hurts.

"Sweetheart relax, you'll hurt yourself," he says softly, terrified, even more than you possibly. He is so scared of scaring you. He is so scared of making it worse. You take in a sharp breath and nod lightly.

"Let me get the dust-pan and broom this," he whisper softly, leaving you between the constellation of the shards, your thoughts, coiled into an unforgiving a ball, only broken when he walks back, kneeling beside you, gently dusting the pieces into the pan as he looks at you with a smile.

"There, all done," he says and searches into your eyes for a reaction. The faint cinkle in them shouts, 'you are not mad at me?' It’s so obvious from the watery look on your face.

“I am not mad, sweetheart, I could never be mad at you” He affirms and smiles. His hands, move to brush your hair gently, reaffirming it.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

You hate this. You hate how stupid this scanning ticket-check system makes you feel. It makes you feel like a boomer, a hobo if you might as you struggle with getting the scan done. Its not even then fact you can't operate it. You can easily operate it, but there's people behind you, waiting, groaning all the the while your hands tremble in mortification.

Beep. Denied

Beep. Denied.

Beep. Denied again

It was never ending, the machine kept on denying your effort and you could swear you heard someone in the line behind you groan.

"Here, let me," a voice interjects and you look up at Nanami, his eyes softening at the sight of your flushed face as he gently takes the ticket from you and gets it scanned...oh so it was this way. You feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment, wanting to cry out of anxiety.

You feel Nanami's arm against your lower back as it curls around your waist, walking a few steps ahead with you, his embrace blocking any extraneous factors that trouble you.

"You okay, love?" he inquires softly, his thumb rubbing circles on your spine.

"I feel stuped Ken'" you mumble your voice cracking.

“You are one of the smartest people I know, y/n” he coos slightly, “you just got overwhelmed, even the best of us get overwhelmed sometimes and that’s alright.” He says, caressing your shoulder gently.

“There’s a lot of things you can do that I can’t.”

“Like?”

“Hmmm….like being this effortlessly cute all the time.” He chuckles and kisses your forehead.

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

Toji Fushiguro was one of those men who had not an ounce of gentleness in them. Those hunter eyes of his that never softened at anything. Its not his fault, its just the way he looks. He can't help it.

The thing about Toji is that he snores while sleeping and yet somehow even with those deep snores, his sleep is restless.

So when he grumbles and opens his eyes to your dry sobs, scrunched eyebrows and spasmodic body. He jolts awaken.

The thing with Toji is that he hates his sleep being disturbed, but what he hates even more is seeing you in despair, seeing you suffer like that.

"Y/N, wake up, you are having a nightmare," he says, softly nudging you with his scarred hands. You jolt awake and turn to him, your eyes blurry, your cheeks wet, and your lips parted for an aborted sob.

Toji's heart drops to his stomach at the visual. He sits up straight and his arms instantly come up to pull you to his chest.

"Ssh, what did you dream about baby?" he asks, letting you nuzzle into him and get comfortable as his hands softly caress your back, his warm palm running up and down, heating your cold body.

You sigh against his chest and shake your head, "Just had a dream that you left me..." You say and he sighs, resting his chin on your head

"Such stupid dreams my baby has," he says calmly, his deep voice rumbling in a low purr. "How could I ever leave you?"

© white-poppie 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, or translate without permission. do not claim work or layout as yours.

"Of Vengeance and Ashes” -> BUY NOW!!!! [Synopsis: Read full synopsis HERE ... The year is 1759, London. Shakespeare’s new estate is set on fire by Reverend Francis Gastrell. History repeats itself, 250 years later when Luna Gastrell stands in turmoil due to her ancestry taking a sinister turn. A ploy of vengeance, illusions, betrayals, blooming romance and morally conflicting measures, and the cards lie in favour of none.] I am a 16-year-old author who needs support, I assure you it won't disappoint! It's okay if you don't buy, it would be enough to share the link with someone else who might be interested! I humbly request you support my career as a child author by purchasing my book. This would help me to write more books in future!

Also Check out: L'appel du vide (✔️) (Synopsis: Your husband, Hanma Shuji is dead! With no memories of what transpired two days before his death, you team up with Tachibana Naoto, Chifuyu Matsuno, Ryuguji Ken and Mitsuya Takashi, you go on a journey full of betrayals and twists. Can you find out what really happened to your husband? )

— JUJUTSU KAISEN - Fanfictions

TAGS: @akumicchi, @rintaroubby @nanaseishiro @cleaningfairylevi, @buttercupspotify, @euphoricbi @ynjimenez

﹒ Taglist   (lmk in the comments in case you wanna be added and the link doesn't work!)

[smutty-ki113r]

🍿Ticci Toby 🍿|| Bubble Pop Electric

NSFW||~ One shot x afab gn!reader, includes- slight exhibitionism, virginity loss, mutual masturbation, biting, creampie, minors—dni (3.2k)

Inspired by: Gwen Stefani

“Toby when are you getting here?” you sighed into the phone, twisting the coil with your fingers and leaning against the wall.

“I’ll be there soon, did you pick a place?” He says back, and you can hear the grin in his voice.

You bit your lip and whisper, “drive in movies”. It’s a nice private place, plus, lots of people your age went there, it was a popular date spot. For good reason obviously, in the confined space of your car there was nobody watching.

It was nerve wracking, this plan you were trying to set in motion. Your heart was beating hard against your rib cage, a heat tingling between your legs just at the thought of what was going to happen tonight.

“Perfect, be there in 5” he said, hanging up. The excitement was building up in your stomach, butterflies going wild and flying all over your stomach, or maybe that was just your heart pumping. You went back to your room for last minute touches, red lipstick and perfume.

When you heard the knock on the door you bolted, opening it to find the tall handsome man who was your boyfriend. Messy brown hair that he tried to comb but ultimately failed, a leather jacket, a rose in his hand extended to you and a boyish grin that he wore so perfectly.

You swooned, receiving the rose and stepping out to embrace him. He gave you a swift kiss on the head and a squeeze on your waist that sent a shiver down your spine, “c’mon, movie starts at 8:00pm” he flashed his watch at you, it was 7:45pm.

He opened the door to his convertible red 1969 Chevy Camaro for you, closing the door and getting in himself. Speeding off towards the drive in theater with an arm over your shoulders.

You looked forward and saw that gorgeous fall sunset, the orange light illuminating his fair skin and the metal lining of the car. The cool air on your cheeks, making you blush, your hair whipping back.

Once you arrived, he paid the 25 cents entrance fee and found a spot near the back, just in time too. They were already playing the credits, soon the movie would start. He made a run for the popcorn stand and got a bucket for the both of you, some candy and soda.

He put the cover back on the car in case it rained, and to give you that extra ounce of heat and privacy, that combined with the dark sky and everybody focused on the movie was heavenly, it was a perfect night.

You gave him a kiss on the cheek and snuggled up close to him as the movie started. At first you were sort of invested, eating some popcorn and sharing soda with him, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He gave you his jacket, draping it over you so you wouldn’t be cold. You cozied up to him and pressed your nose to the leather, it smelled like him too. A soft smile made it’s way to your lips as the picture opened it’s first scene. He glanced at you and sighed happily, you were the epitome of beauty to him.

Toby’s arm around you, protectively holding you as if someone might steal you away, there was no movie moment more perfect than this one. It was pure bliss.

His hand found yours, intertwining with your fingers and playing with you. Resting his hand firmly on your thigh and stroking it softly. You threw him a stare but he was focused on the movie apparently. He was flirty this way, and it drove you mad; because he would insist that he was just fidgeting, but this was not just a quirk.

You gave a little huff, not loud or nearly desperate enough for him to give you what you wanted. He kept squeezing, kept stroking and getting closer to your inner thighs. Your mind couldn’t help but wander off to a fantasy of him fucking you into the backseat, his heated kisses muffling your moans, his hands touching every part of you, and thats exactly what he was aiming to do.

“Toby” you whined, giving him these big puppy dog eyes. He gave you a mischievous smile.

“What?!” He asked, his eyes bright as they trained on you.

“You’re doing that thing again” you sighed, motioning to his hand and the way he was caressing your skin.

“Oh, am I?” He asked. “Do you want me to stop?” He asked, knowing you would cry out ‘no’. It was pure evil, falling right into his hands, he just loved to hear you beg, loved to hear you plead for him to give you what you needed. “What do you want babe?”

It was a set up, there was no way it wasn’t. But you couldn’t stop yourself from doing exactly what he wanted. “Toby…” you grumbled, “fuck you always make this so hard” you stressed. “I want you” you pleaded, your cheeks tinted red at the lewd implication of the words coming out of your mouth.

He gave a coy smile, kissing your lips first deeply, kissing your neck in its soft spot next. His hand sliding further up your thighs till he reached the flesh of your intimate area. Switching hands so he could put his arm around you again, and use the other to reach you better.

His eyes remained on the movie, as if it were just a simple activity to pass the time, while his fingers moved slowly on your cunt. Rubbing you through the cloth of your panties. You had to spread your legs to give him more access, it was embarrassing, but he liked that.

Toby had on a little smirk, his hand up your skirt, rubbing circles around your clit. Your legs spread like that, him acting like nothing was happening. The fact that he was restraining that ounce of pleasure you craved so desperately.

You begged, a soft “please” coming from your trembling lips. That- he couldnt resist. His fingers slipping in between your panties to feel your soaked cunt. He let out a grunt at the feeling, it was so tight when he carefully let a finger in.

Toby imagined the delight of your pussy wrapped around him, hot and wet and squeezing his cock like a vice. The two of you had never gone that far before, just oral and grinding on eachother till he came in his pants and you were throbbing in yours.

“How does it feel baby?” He asked, his throat tight, his entire body heated with the desire to take you right then and right there. He had to seriously restrain himself, his cock straining painfully in his jeans.

Your eyes were hazy, brows furrowed in a lewd expression. Answering his question even though his fingers were knuckle deep in your hole. “So good- don’t stop Toby”

That was all it took to bring his full attention to you again, his lips parted slightly as they pressed against yours. Moving in tandem and holding the back of your head to guide you while he tasted you. Putting in a second finger to stretch you out, to make sure he reached those gushy parts you that made you squeal.

“Fuck” he cursed, “did I really make you this wet?” He asked, watching you nod your head quickly and hold space just enough to touch the tip of his nose with your own. Heavy, hot breaths colliding in the air between you.

Toby was infatuated, his cock hard and pressing against the cloth of his pants, begging to be released. You reached over to stroke him through the cloth, his face was one of warning, if you kept at that, he was going to lose all control.

It was tempting, but you just continued touching him lightly. It was like bliss, both of you touching each other. “Fuck I love it when you do that” he panted. Sneaking in a third finger and watching your expression as he pumped his digits in and out of you.

Your heart almost exploded watching a group of people pass by the side of your car, you almost wouldn’t have noticed if they hadn’t been laughing so hard. Instinctively closing your legs around his hand and squeezing, eyes following them nervously even though they weren’t even paying attention.

Toby gave a little grunt as your hand rested over his budge, his eyes focused on the movie, as if he could ever be focused on that screen and not on you.

“Someone could see” you whispered, “this is risky”, but you didn’t move your hand away, you didn’t want to.

He smirked mischievously, his gaze glowing in the dimly lit car as he watched you. “Thats what makes it exciting” he almost panted, so fucking horny for you, his hands twitching to touch you and his cock begging to be buried inside of you. You couldn’t disagree with that smile, you melted at every word.

Deciding to make big moves and undo the zipper on his pants, his breath hitched but he steadied, rubbing your clit in gentle circles while you fished him out and started stroking him. He was girthy, your hand didn’t wrap all the way around him, you shivered at the thought of him inside you.

It was all so lewd, sitting shotgun and leaned back with his fingers inside of you and your hand around his cock. His chest rising and falling unsteadily and both of you watching the movie, neither of you paying attention. The dialogue of the motion picture background to your fast paced breaths concealed in the safety of his car.

You were beet red, hair messy, too nervous to ask him to move into the backseat. He could sense your tension, asking if you were comfortable. The man was always so considerate, picking up on when you wanted or needed something.

You motioned to the back and he took the hint, shoving himself back in his pants while he moved to the back and pat the seat to encourage you to come to him.

Already your head was fuzzy, but now he had you laid down on his leather seats and things were being taken to the next level. “Toby” you whispered, looking up and catching his face in your hands, “I think tonight is the night”

He gave a sharp inhale and asked “really?”, you laughed at his ability to hold in eagerness, but it was true, he had never pushed you, he waited till you were okay and actually wanted it, till you craved it like he did.

“Yes” you giggled, watching him bury his head in your neck so he could start kissing again. His hair in your face, you could smell his shampoo, it was cinnamon spice.

“I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good babe” he growled, his hands twitching as he started grabbing every part of available skin. “I’ve gotta stretch you out first, so you can take me”

You were throbbing at his dirty talk, excited for all the things he said he would do. His forehead pressed to yours once again so he could look in your eyes while he slid two fingers in again. Your cunt making wet noises that combined with your lewd expressions were driving him crazy.

“You’re so fucking tight” he cursed, “I can’t wait to be inside you, to feel you”

You were choking on your words, there was so much you wanted to say, but it wouldn’t come out. You were too caught up in the moment, too enamorated with the absolute man on top of you. “I’m ready” you managed to get out, “I need you”

Toby said nothing, taking out his throbbing cock once again. He was pulsing with unimaginable desire, one only you could satisfy. He hovered over you, rubbing your clit with his tip just to tease you, and to calm some of your nerves. He edged it on your opening, waiting for your consent.

His hands found yours again, intertwining fingers and squeezing tight to let you know he appreciated you and wasn’t going to let you go. “I think I’m in love with you” you breathed out, his face of pure joy and delight was the best reaction you could have imagined.

“I love you too” he responded, “let me show you how much I do” he breathed, another hand on your hip to guide you while he slid the first few inches in and watched your face contort as you struggled to take him.

You were panting, your body on fire from his delicate touches. “I need you to fill me” you gasped, pulsing around him and milking him. With your simple plead he couldn’t refuse, he had to satisfy you; bottoming out till his balls pressed against your ass.

“Oh fuck” he cursed under his breath, his lips parted as he leaned in and pressed impatient kisses on your neck, sucking and leaving marks, nibbling while he rolled his hips out and back in to adjust to a pace that would be comfortable for you. You whined softly in his ear at him stretching you out.

“Yeah just like that” he said in between kisses, his grip on you so furious he was sure to leave marks. His unruly hair now more unkempt than before, cascading over his face when he looked down at you taking his cock deep inside your wet pussy.

His tip pressing into the farthest bits of you and his length rubbing against your walls, making you all sensitive. Your body reacting just as he needed, arching into him. His thrusts speeding up just because he was so needy, his noises uncontainable except for when he was kissing your skin.

His teeth pulling at your bottom lip and almost drawing blood, his gentleness was fading as he got more and more lost to the rabbit hole of pleasure you provided him with. He wanted to fuck you until you couldn’t speak and your legs were shaking. “Oh Toby-“ you cried.

Your brows furrowed and your face faded in an expression of pure ecstasy, the way his hips were slamming against you reminding you that you were in public and could be caught red handed any minute.

“People might hear” you whispered in his ear, telling him with the last bit of your sanity. Truth is he was fucking you so hard the car moving was already a giveaway. His expression showed just a hint of deviance, the rest of his face was lust and determination.

“Let them” He growled as he bit you again, “I don’t give a shit” he admitted, too far gone to think about consequences. “Want them to know you’re mine” he panted, pulling you towards him so he could feel every bit of you, “only mine” he said possessively, his tone low with warning.

His body was so perfectly connected with yours, you felt so sensitive in places you had never even considered before, your inner thighs where his hands traced you shakily before gripping; your neck that he was busy abusing. It was almost over stimulating, to feel him mold himself into your hole.

But you were in so much bliss, the way he split you in two was too delicious to overthink. “Oh- oh~” you cried, eyes shut and legs wrapped tight around him, if he kept going just like this you would cum soon. You tried to let him know, to warm him- but it all came out like jumbled groans and whimpers. All you managed was “I- I-m gonna”

Toby, who was whispering nonsense while he pounded you, disregarded your noises, it was all too much for him, your body so warm and delightful. He was already lost to your pleasure, mumbling out “tight- tight- so fucking tight-“, his hands gripping your ass, balls heavy while they slapped against your cunt.

You couldnt take it any longer, feeling yourself reach a thrilling peak, squeezing his girthy cock in pulses. To which he kept cursing, his expression read only as divine satisfaction. “That’s right- just let yourself go” he managed to praise before he completely lost his cool.

Your body limp in his strong arms, he held you up, supporting you and keeping you safe. You had never felt more secure than tangled in the backseat of his car with his dick hilted inside of you. While you rode out your orgasm he pressed against the small of your back and switched positions.

He was sitting up, you on his lap facing him, his cock still stretching out your pretty wet pussy. “Rest against me babe” he said, taking a slight breather and letting you lean your forehead against his. Looking deep in his dark eyes, your face flushed and your lip open. Toby didn’t hesitate to kiss it, his own lips parted in whispers and praises that he muttered in between displays of affection.

You were too tired, trying to grind and ride him, his hands soft on your ass to guide you. “It’s okay” he said, “let me” his legs spread slightly to buck up and fill your slutty little cunt with his shaft. You moaned and cried out his name, to which he only went harder.

“I’m gonna fill you up” he said, “gonna fill you up with my cum, my pretty little baby” he said, his hips rolling up and his tip reaching your cervix. Pressing into all the most delicious places. “Oh fuck”, the sounds you were making together were so lewd, breaths intertwined in the heat between you.

His composure faltering and his hips bucking wildly until he pulled you down, his arms hugging you so tightly while he cried your name and spilled deep in you. His hot cum filling you up, it was so much but you took it, panting and kissing him once again while he twitched inside of you. Your tight pussy milking out every drop of him.

“You did so good for me” he said, catching his breath and moving your hair out of your face so he could look at you. The most gorgeous thing in the world, he wanted to see you while you still took his cock inside of him. You almost couldnt believe he had just popped your cherry in the backseat.

“That’s my pretty baby” he caressed your cheek, kissing it swiftly. You saw that big grin return to his face, he was going to be teasing you now, “giving me all your love in the backseat”

[phightingheadcanons]

coil can carry the weight of 5 ban hammrs . hes really strong

assuming he was raised by wolves he’s definitely got some of their habits . but he’s more of a house dog than anything lol

by house dog i dont mean velcro dogs that are lazy and do nothing all day , more of a big dog ( golden , husky , etc u get it)

hes got ears. dog ears . and a tail !! so whenevr hes tryna act super mad his tail will give it away ebcause it wags!! -before he came to crossroads / playground (hc that he has no specific faction [ due to mixed faction parents] and just joined playground) he smelled like shit. like he had no idea what deodorant was before skateboard pointed it out. -probably little spoon . idk why but he’s probably too used to being cuddled up with the wolves..

in a hc stated earlier i said hes got mixed parents . his mom’s from thieves den , dad’s from playground. idk what their gears would be but i’ve got a few ideas.

coil’s parents kinda forgot about him when he was playing at the park , left for the bar and coil just got lost. (then coil met the wolves blah blah blah yeah)

ive a feeling coil trained with the wolves to gain his strength , and since hes so used to winning against them, he cant really take losses well (explaining his defeat lines)

.

[bugwolfsstuff]

@thel1ghtningthief @smileyalater @unubinary

Lads i've finnally gotten it done.

Ao3 version

'Nico can sense death as it happens or when it is coming; when a person close to him dies, it comes as a ringing in the ears'— The fandom page on Nico’s sensitivity to death ability A good guide knows when his charges are coming or going :)

Remember this.

TW: violent intrusive thoughts and near child death (he doesn't actually do it)

I swear that I’m a good kid (I never mean to hurt anyone) 

Luke stood over the sleeping boys, dagger in hand. 

Hermes' mini-mes, the Stolls, Travis and Connor sprawled out in their bed asleep. Unaware of what was happening above them. Travis had his arm wrapped around Connor. Connor had a grin on his face even in sleep. 

They looked exactly like Him. Same face. Same smirk. Same everything. They even acted like Him. 

There was a thrumming in his head. Telling him to do it. His hand squeezed the hilt. 

One swipe, one flash of silver and it’d be done. 

They wouldn't even have time to scream or fight. They’d go peacefully, Asphodel probably. They hadn’t done anything worthy of Elysium. They were too young. 

Or maybe, if their pranks were considered bad enough by the judges — punishment.  

Remember that time they put a spider in Annabeth’s bed? They knew she was terrified of spiders. They laughed at her when she screamed and cried. They’re just like Him. 

Just like Him. Just like Him. Just like Him. Just like Him. 

His thoughts screamed like a chorus of barking dogs, demanding blood as his arm raised. The dagger felt eerily light in his hands. Too right. 

He felt bile in his throat, just at the back like a coiled snake. Choking him like a boa constrictor. 

Would He even care if Luke killed them just now? Would He mourn His poor bastards? Would it hurt, Hermes? 

Would it even matter? 

The Stolls probably never even met Him. 

But they acted like Him. They looked like Him. Everything they did was exactly like Him. Every laugh, every prank, every— 

“Luke?” 

.... 

He froze. His breath hitched. 

Travis blinked his eyes—blue just like His— open. Travis was a light sleeper. 

Luke yanked the dagger away, hiding it behind his back before Travis saw, the dogs of his thoughts howling: do it now, do it now before they become Him. 

“What are you doing?” Travis asked. It was a good question. The bile rose back up his throat. It was like looking at a younger version of him. 

“You ever met Him?” He asked suddenly. 

Travis looked caught off guard “Huh?” 

“Hermes” The name felt like venom on his tongue, but he had to make sure, “...I mean have you met Hermes?” He asked. 

“Yeah” Travis rubbed his eyes, flinching at the tone, “I—I mean...only once, when Connor was born.” The tips of his ears turned red as if he was ashamed of talking ill of their heavenly (Olympianly?) deadbeat.  

“He...He sucks” Travis said shakily. 

He sounded near tears. His lip trembled and his eyes widened — baby blue like his not His— in a ‘please believe me’ or a ‘please don't kill yell at me for what I said’ expression. 

He was acting like a child. 

Because he was one. 

They weren't their father. They didn’t even know Him. 

Something inside of Luke twisted at that realization. Like someone inside had snapped the necks of the barking dogs in his thoughts and replaced them with sobering guilt. 

What was he doing? 

What was he doing?  

“Are you mad at us, Luke?” Travis asked. 

His voice was small and fearful, and he had a face that proved it, a face that wasn’t His but Travis’. 

Guilt. 

Hermes never felt guilt. The face that was looking at him with tears threatening to fall wasn’t Hermes’. 

It was a child’s. Not his father’s. 

Luke shook his head, “No,” Bile rose back up his throat. “Go back to sleep, Travis.” 

Travis rubbed his eyes, lingering for a moment before pulling Connor closer and shutting his eyes. 

Luke sighed with a shaky breath, turned on his heel and walked out of his cabin. Sheathing the dagger. 

He didn’t know that the Stolls got their curly hair from their mother and the freckles that marched across their faces came from her not Him. 

He didn't know they were more Chthonic than the rest. 

He didn't know Travis was lying to save them both. 

He didn't know Travis had awoken ages ago from ringing in his ears. 

And he won’t ever know, not in his lifetime.