#mayhap I can try twitch?

[huniidragon]

And what if I began streaming my art again?

[notlongtolove]

the fox and her hound

“a fox?” he repeated, and you nodded. “a vixen.” spencer doesn’t understand why you call yourself a fox, not really. so you show him. not all at once, but in pieces, small glimpses of your world that you let him catch—if he can keep up.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff with a pinch of angst

content: a love story told through the allegory of a fox and a hound, mentions of metaphorical wounds

word count: 2k

note: no linked poem bc idk just thought of this and wanted to write it. mayhaps im taking this nature trope a tad too far lol but anyways i will probably come back to edit this.

a line: They don’t see it, do they? The way the fox rolls in the field when she thinks no one’s looking, laughing under her breath as she goes.

On your first date with Spencer, you’d asked him what animal he’d be. He had paused, tilting his head just slightly. He’s never understood why people ask questions like these. What animal? What color? What season? Animals are animals, colors are colors. It would be impossible to pick one to embody his entire being. Such separate realms of nature, totally different worlds, he thinks.

But you’re sitting across from him, head tilted, eyes glinting under dim light. Pretty. So pretty. He doesn’t want to disappoint you, doesn’t want you to think he’s boring or stiff or unfun. He wants to answer correctly, even though he knows there’s no “correct” answer to this.

“Maybe a golden retriever,” he said, trying to keep casual, “or a beagle. Something friendly.”

Something safe, he thinks. Something pretty girls statistically like.

You had smiled then, slow and soft, lifting the glass of whiskey to your lips, you said with all the certainty in the world:

“I’m a fox.”

“A fox?” he repeated, and you nodded.

“A vixen.” 

You didn’t explain it, just swirled your glass like you were swirling the word on your tongue. You loved the taste of it, loved the way it warmed your chest on the way down. Foxes are well-adapted to stay warm. Their thick winter coats, their long, bushy tails. They don’t need anyone to hold them when the frost bites or when the wind howls through the trees.

Spencer doesn’t understand why you call yourself a fox, not really. The dog stays close to the house. He doesn’t stray far, never been anywhere else. He doesn’t know. So you show him. Not all at once, but in pieces, small glimpses of your world that you let him catch—if he can keep up. The forest is dense, you see, the paths are winding and uneven. The shrubbery is thick, sharp branches clawing at the skin. There are logs in the way and the dog stumbles over them sometimes. You wonder if he’s getting tired, if your hidden path is too hard for him to navigate. If the spiders that weave their webs in his face and the fire ants that bite at his ankles are too painful to endure.

So, sometimes, you stop. You sit together on the forest floor, catching your breath. You wag your tails lazily and just talk.

“You know I’d never do anything to hurt you, right?” he asks one evening.

The fox doesn’t answer right away. Her ears twitch, and her eyes flicker toward the trees.

“I don’t like the word never,” she says finally, “It feels like an impossible standard.”

The dog thinks about this, his brow furrowing. “Okay,” he says after a moment. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

“I know,” she replies, her voice soft.

But the fox knows her way through the forest. She knows every twist and turn, every trap hidden beneath the leaves. You tell the dog he’d never catch up, sometimes hiding, sometimes running faster—just to see if he’ll try. Spencer doesn’t tell you how he sees that every time you disappear into the trees, you always turn back. Always looking over your shoulder, always checking to see if he’s still behind you. 

Eventually, you reach your den. Your fur coat is scratched and bruised from the branches and the logs, the forest leaving its marks on you like it always does. But you’re here. He’s here.

Silently, you wonder how many more times you’ll have to make this journey. You don’t think you can endure another. But you don’t say it.

Instead, you take him inside.

Your den is small, cobbled together from dirt and leaves, from twigs and scraps you’ve gathered over the years. You show him your dirt mantle, how you’d packed it tight with earth and how you’d lined with relics of your life. You show him the first flower you ever found, or what’s left of it—a brittle stem, its petals long gone. You tell him the story of the hound who crushed it. 

There’s a feather on the wall, light and fragile, from the first bird you ever caught. You smile as you tell him the story of the chase, how fun it had been to run and run with your foxes until the world blurred around you. Until you were the only one left. In the corner, something glints: A metal buckle, tarnished but unmistakable. From the shoe of the first hunter who’d ever caught you.

You trace your fur with your fingers, telling Spencer your adventures and stories of the traps and the teeth, of the hunters who came with rifles and ropes. The dog sits, listening, understanding. You show him how the edges of your den are marked, too. The walls are carved with notches—five, ten, fifteen. Each one a hunter or hound you’d escaped from. You’re proud, you say, even as you run your hand over the rough lines. They’re proof you survived, that you’ve outwitted them time and time again. Not unwounded, not unbroken, but alive. 

You tell him you’re very proud of yourself.

The dog tilts his head, watching you carefully. He sees the way your voice falters when you recount the stories of cages and leashes, how your tail twitches when you mention the hunters. Spencer thinks the fox is lying.

So, the dog tries to teach the fox his ways.

He clears out your mantle first. He takes down the brittle flower stem, the feather, the tarnished buckle. Then, he takes your paw and shows you how to sniff out the bright pretty toadstools, the ones that make the forest less dark. He shows you the rain puddles, not just for drinking, but for jumping in, for splashing until your laughter scares off the birds.

Together, you fill your den with new relics. Ticket stubs from the village fair, postcards you write but never send, laughter tucked away in secret corners. Kisses, soft and warm, planted like seeds that grow slowly into something that feels like home.

Spencer rubs off the old notches on your walls with the pads of his paws, the dust of their memory falling to the floor. In their place, you make new marks. Not notches, but drawings. A fox curled in the safety of her den. A dog lying beside her, his muzzle resting on his paws.

Night after night, you curl up beneath your mantle, snouts touching, tails tucked beneath you. 

And then winter comes. Now, your walls feel too big for just a lone fox.

You see, the dog always listens to his master. He sits, he fetches, he stays. But always under command, always under the whistle’s call. And when his master calls, he has to go. Tail wagging or tucked low, he goes. 

“You’re hardly ever here anymore,” your voice cuts sharper than you meant it to. 

“Can we please not do this now,” he says almost pleadingly, his jaw tight.

For the first time, in the quiet of your den, the fox feels the cold.

The dog goes. The fox doesn’t follow. She can’t. She doesn’t belong where the dog goes—to places of shiny badges and polished shoes, of clean, carpeted floors and voices that echo off tall, glass walls. So she waits in her den, her fur bristling against the chill, her paws worn from pacing the same patch of dirt.

You try to remind yourself of who you are. A fox, sly, swift, clever. A fox, who doesn’t need to wait for anyone. 

But still, when the forest quiets, you glance toward the trees. You press your ear to the ground, hoping to catch the faintest echo of his steps, the rustle of leaves under his paws. The fox runs her fingers over the edges of the drawings, tracing the uneven lines, patching the spaces in her den where the light and the wind get in with twigs and leaves. She roams the fields, trying to race the clouds again. But she doesn’t think she runs quite as fast without Spencer beside her. She chases her tail like he taught her, spinning in quick circles, but it’s not as fun when she’s alone. She doesn’t try to catch the birds anymore. It doesn’t feel the same.

When Spencer comes back, his coat bruised and worn from his time away, the fox licks his wounds. The scrapes and the scratches, soft and slow, patching his paws with the leaves she’s saved. ​​He carries something in his teeth—a token, a peace offering, a sign that he thought of you while he was away. 

A flower. 

He’d found it near the river, petals still dewy, fragile and bright. He hopes you like it. You do.

You take it from him with careful paws, eyes tracing its delicate form before placing it on your mantle, next to the postcards and ticket stubs, next to the daffodils, peonies, dahlias, irises and all the other flowers he’s found for you over time. You think back to the brittle and dead stem you once kept and wonder if there’s any way to hold onto something that beautiful forever.

Because sometimes even beautiful flowers die.

And when it comes to fight or flight, the fox always runs. They say it’s in her blood, in her very nature to flee. So she bolts. She runs away from the den, away from the mantle and the flowers he’d collected. The fox doesn’t know if she can find flowers quite as beautiful as the ones Spencer has given her.

You don’t need the flowers, you tell yourself. You’ll find a new den, find new birds to catch, rebuild your mantle from scratch, carve new notches in your walls once more. You always do.

But the hound finds you. Bred for hunting. Tracking. Scenting. For knowing where to look and how to catch. Bred for the hunt, he always finds you. Your crouched back, tail down, ready to pounce or bolt if you have to. Every instinct telling you to run, to vanish into the underbrush before he can catch you. 

“Open the door,” a voice calls, low and insistent.

The fox is curled in the corner of this den. It doesn’t hold the warmth of the last.

“I know you’re home.”

She shuts her eyes and digs deeper into the wall.

“Open the door,” he says, voice softening, pleading. "Please."

The fox exhales, and with a shudder that shakes through her, she reaches out and opens the door. She misses her flowers.

It’s not the chase you expect. No barking, no growling. You bare your teeth. But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch. 

“What do you want?” she asks, claws sharp.

“I want to talk.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Then I’ll stay here until you do.”

And so the fox and the dog sit. They wait and wait then talk and talk. By the time the first rays of the sun creep above the treetops, the fox is laughing again. It’s a sound that is warm and bright, something that makes Spencer’s heart feel a little fuller, a little lighter. He thinks he understands now. 

They don’t see it, do they? The way the fox rolls in the field when she thinks no one’s looking, laughing under her breath as she goes. The way she finds the sunniest patch to lay in and closes her eyes, tail swishing in contentment. They only see the scars and the snarls. They don’t ever see the joy.

“Why don’t you trust me?” he asks, his voice gentle but steady, the kind of tone that makes it clear he already knows the answer.

“I do,” you say quickly, instinctively.

He doesn’t push. He waits.

“I know you don’t,” he says finally, not accusing, just truthful.

You look away, fidgeting with your tail between your legs. “I’m trying,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says again, softer this time, his tail brushing lightly against your side.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: you’re here that’s the thing by beabadoobee tsunami by niki

[jyoongim]

I literally kick my feet anytime I see you post your writing is so good. Fuckin biting my nails and screaming !!!!

Mayhaps something with alastor and like stoic reader. Like she’s badass, nothing gets to her and tries so hard to seem dominant (cause she knows compared to alastor she really isn’t). Has never fucked annoyed cause it’s the “I only need myself, I can get myself off” mindset

At one point she ends up getting snippy with alastor and he like grabs her by the throat or something to stop her and she immediately just looses all resolve. It’s viable in her eyes as she quickly goes from defiant and brash to meek and submissive just by something so simple because she’s so unused to the feeling.

Thank you for enjoying my writing🥹🥹🥹 I hope I can continue to give you everything you desire🩷

You took a seat beside Velvette as the Overlord meeting started. She was practically fangirling next to you, sneaking a few pics of you for her socials.

The meeting went as smooth as one could go with a bunch of powerful Overlords. 

You were chatting with Carmilla about business, catching sight of a familiar red demon leaving when Velvette quite literally stole you away, she sported a big grin on her face “Ooh babes, Voxxy wants to know if you’re accepting his dinner invite?”

You wanted to groan. Vox had been quite persistent in trying to gain your ‘affections’. 

You were a relatively powerful overlord. As one of the few female sovereigns, you always made sure to carry yourself with poise and elegance. You got your power on your own, never having to sleep your way to get what you want. And you kept it that way. Your dominant cold personality made sinners shake in fear.  You possessed a great mind for business, able to build or break someone’s business. 

Many sinners would be lucky to have you oversee their management.

And Vox could see you bringing him more money then he could count.

With you under him, he would dominate in sales.

You shook Velvette off, smoothing out your suit. “For the nth time Velvette…no. I am not some power clutch for Vox to try and woo” you growled at her, eyes flashing.  She rolled her eyes “babes you dont know what you’re missing” You rubbed your head as you made your way out the building, trying to ease a migraine coming through.

Your sneer must have still been on your face because you heard a voice teased you

”Frowning doesn’t suit you my dear”

Alastor.

The tall red demon was leaning against a wall, smile ever present.

You felt your eye twitch before quickly regaining your composure, spine straightening and lips pulling into a straight line.

You and Alastor were something like friends. You liked to keep your distance from the Radio Demon, but somehow he always found a way to bother you and keep you close enough for ‘entertainment’. He made you uneasy with how intimidating he was. His ever present smile could make people shit bricks alone and you knew what happened to those who crossed him…

But he didn’t scare you…much.

You growled slightly at his comment, your irritation was blinding the fact that you just barred your teeth at THE Radio Demon.

He tilted his head “trouble in paradise?” he asked sarcastically. If anyone didn’t know, Alastor knew how much you despised Vox.  

”Oh piss off Alastor” you said walking pass him.

You didn’t get far before you found yourself pressed into the building wall.

You blinked, brain catching up to the fact that Alastor had a claw around your throat holding you up against the wall.

You growled out of instinct, eyes glowing and squeezed his wrist “Are You fucking crazy!? Unhan-!” 

 The tightening of Alastor’s hand had your eyes widening.

“Watch your tone darlin’ ”

 your body went slack as a purr escaped your throat.

Alastor chuckled darkly “hahaha oh what’s this? So you aren’t so scary after all”

You blushed immediately.

You weren’t used to being manhandled by anyone. 

You didn’t take orders from anyone.

You were always a force to be reckoned with…

But the way Alastor towered over you, pressing into you, you melted as he established his dominance over you.

A pout formed on your lip as you looked away shyly, feeling small “s-sorry”

Alastor hummed, loosening his grip, favoring to catch your chin with his claw for you to meet his gaze

”that’s a good girl”

@absurd-ash @simphornies @altruisticalastor @markster666 @crazyforbarnes @catherine69420 @yourdoorisunlocked @strawberrypimp666 @sssandychemd @dasimp777 @dennsfz @alastorsaries @confessioncassette @horrorartsworld @alstorloml @scaramoochiie @alishii (I can’t tag you) @gojosaturos-wife @prosciuttosblog @wedream-wecreate @coleisyn @alastorsfawn @eviebuggg @spalimly @senseichaos @thewinchestah @queenariesofnarnia @polytheatrix @zombiesnips-blog @lunaramune @freekyfangirl @kassa-stardust

If I’m missing anyone just comment hehe

[writingmar]

d. 9 and 12 mayhaps? 🫢

nsfw ੈ✩‧₊˚ mdni

'𝐠𝐢��𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐢𝐫.'

𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘥 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Prompt D9: Heavy Spanking + D12: Squirting.

when spencer decides to teach you a lesson, you figure out you should disobey him more often.

wc: 0.9k

content & tw: smut. dom!reid, brat!reader, spanking (with hand and belt), a bit of praise and a bit of degradation, fingering, squirting.

a/n: i had so much fun writing this omg

'f- four!' you yelp after spencers hand comes down on your ass cheek for the fourth time. your skin must be bright red already judging by how sensitive it feels.

'good girl,' spencer says as you're bent over his lap, 'keep counting, baby girl.' he says before he smacks down again. you do as you're told, counting the fifth spank you're receiving for back talking to him.

'you're taking it so...' spencer says before cutting himself off. the suspense of his silence is killing you until suddenly you feel one of his fingers sliding thru your pussy. you gasp softly, and spencer moves his hand to your face. 'look at that, princess,' he says, wiping his slick finger over your bottom lip, 'something tells me you like to be punished.'

you smirk, your eyes still down at the floor as you lay on his knees. 'and whatever is giving you that idea, doctor?' you ask, your battiness immediately being met with another harsh smack on your ass. spencer leans down, his mouth close to your ear as he whispers, 'because i've got your cunt dripping all over my trousers, little brat.'

his hand raises again, but lowers slowly, not giving you the impact you expected. you hear spencers belt buckle, and while you know you can take it, you feel nerves in your lower stomach start to build.

he pulls his belt out of his trousers and folds it, first softly caressing your sensitive skin with the leather. 'well, brat, if you like to be punished so much,' he says, his sentence being broken by the sound of leather making contact with skin, a harsh, boiling hot and sensual pain spreading over your ass cheek, 'i might have to just be a little harder on you.'

you let out a deep breath, turning up your attitude even more. you love playing cat and mouse, and with a smile you say 'give me your worst, sir.'

spencer lets out a breath, his smile audible, 'oh princess,' he says, his voice nothing more than a husky whisper, 'you're gonna regret that.'

the belt makes contact with your skin again, harsh and unforgiving and so beautifully painful. you let out a moan, laced with the sting on your skin. spencer uses his empty hand to touch your core again and laughs darkly. 'oh, baby girl, you've just gotten wetter.'

he slips one finger inside of you, making your breathing hitch the comforting, good feeling quickly being countered with another smack. the pain mixes with the pleasure, creating an intoxicating cocktail of excitement and arousal within you.

spencer curls his finger inside you, pushing another digit inside you with ease. he pushes against your inner walls exactly where you need him to, every moan he pulls from your body is answered with a harsh hit of the belt.

'is this what you wanted, brat? to be dripping over my fingers while i make you hurt?' spencer asks, his fingers not once stopping those magnificent movements inside of you. the pleasure and sting make it harder and harder for you to keep up your bratty appearance, make it harder for you to talk even, but you love to push his buttons. 'does it feel like i wanted this?'

the belt strikes again, even harder this time. spencer shows no signs of slowing down, your orgasm building with every stroke of his fingers. 'it feels like you fucking love being punished, princess.'

spencer pushes his fingers deeper inside of you, finding the spot that brings you the most pleasure. you whimper on his lap, your legs twitching but not once trying to get away. he plays with your g-spot, your body tensing more and more. 'fuck, sir, i'm so f- so fucking close,' you moan.

'ah, look, there are your manners,' spencer says sensually, speeding up his pace. 'allright, princess. you take three more hits, and then i think you deserve to cum. make sure i can hear you count.'

the belt strikes down once. 'one,' you say trying everything in your power to keep your climax at bay.

another hit, 'two.' you know you can't trick him, you have to control yourself. he knows your body better than you know it yourself, and the moment you're about to cum he would pull his fingers out.

he waits a painfully long time for the third strike, keeping your body in high alert for what is probably less than a minute but what feels like more than an hour. and then, out of nowhere, he curls his fingers in just the right way and smacks the leather down on your skin.

'three!' you moan, your orgasm crashing thru your body. spencer never disappoints you, but this release is more intense than anything you've ever felt before. your senses stop working, your ears ringing and your vision only displaying stars. you feel spencers hand stroking your hair, and when you come back into your body, you feel your thighs covered in fluid.

you laugh softly as spencer helps you into a straddling position, holding you up and kissing you softly. 'well, that hasn't happened before,' you say against his lips.

'no, it hasn't,' spencer says, a proud grin at his ability to make you squirt displayed on his face. 'but i certainly hope it'll happen again.'

[joocomics]

something suggestive with cocky!jongseob mayhaps? 😇

will you give me just a minute to fangirl over the fact i woke up to seeing you in my inbox please 😭 omg you’re such an inspiration to me i love your writing and everything you do on your blog <3 now i’m a bit nervous but hopefully you enjoy my little thoughts on your fav boy!

tags: suggestive, established relationship, kissing, cocky!jongseob, jealous bf!jongseob

when i think about cocky!jongseob i think of his tendency to get possessive and hear me out…

when you’re out with friends especially at night clubs and parties where there will be tons of people jongseob cannot help but get excited about people seeing him with you - you’re gorgeous, hot and most importantly his. you might not realise it, but people around you always do - he’s proud to have you. his eyes sparkle with fascination as they follow you in the crowd, his hand remains on the small of your back throughout the night and when you’re telling a story to your mutual friends he’s always carefully listening to it from start to finish despite the fact he’s heard it several times already. and that’s where that slight ego boost comes from that can have him acting cocky as he shows you off without even realising, especially if he’s had a drink or two with you, hopefully i make sense right now…

his hands become bolder, his tone cheeky and playful meanwhile his eyes start to look at you with lust rather than with fascination like earlier. it’s interesting that the cockier he gets, the more he clings to you, but it’s true. his arms go around your waist from behind to pull you close against his chest and his warm lips are at your ear as he flirts with you; making comments about how that guy, the friend of your friend, was trying so hard to impress you. “baby, are you jealous right now?” you turn to face him as the presence of his hands remains on your lower waist; moving dangerously lower. “you’re mine,” is all he says, “everyone here knows it.” and even his kisses feel different in these moments - more obsessive than ever before. his lips move quicker, with hunger that leaves you breathless as the crowd keeps mingling around you. his greedy touch povokes little moans to escape your tongue and that calls for a satisfied smirk to form on his flushed face. “let’s get out of here…” you’re the first to say it, and you could care less if it makes you look desperate or needy. jongseob takes your chin with two fingers clearly liking your change of attitude. “is this party getting too boring for you?” his knee settles between your legs as you sway side to side; as if to let you know he’s aware of your desires. “or is there something else you’d rather be doing right now?” he wants to hear you say it - that you need him; that you want to leave this place to be with him, it fuels him with adrenaline. the corners of his mouth twitch mischievously; a quick small sign of the cocky mood he’s going to be in throughout the rest of the night and that’s going to elevate his dominance once it’s just the two of you alone…

[crimsonbubble]

I saw your post about the demon hwa and deer reader and was wondering if you’d elaborate on it more👀?

Sweet Shadows

cw. fluff/nsfw, gn deer hybrid!reader, shadow demon!hwa, very brief mention of death, thigh riding, soft dom hwa w/ a bit of a mean streak, slight scent kink (?), dry humping, praise *not proofread, just pure horny

[in reference to this!!] TYSM FOR ASKING BC THIS IDEA HAS BEEN EATING AT ME FOR TOO LONG, mayhaps I went a little crazy with this (1.3k words 🧍🧍)

i love the idea of scary being x cute being

shadow demon!hwa who enjoys watching the life bleed from someone’s eyes. who finds it amusing when people beg for their lives as if they didn’t call this upon themselves.

shadow demon!hwa whose entire schtick is dark. yet his garden is absolutely flourishing with lush green grass and vivid flowers, which are meticulously taken care of.

shadow demon!hwa who returns home one day to find his lavender bushes is in slight disarray. of course, he would notice if anything other than him had touched his beloved garden.

shadow demon!hwa who delicately fixes his garden and hopes it’s just a one time thing. until it happens again the very next day, then the next, and the next. he’s nearly ripping his hair out trying to figure out who or what is playing around his garden.

usually, you’d be gone by the time seonghwa leaves the house, but the grass near his thriving lavender bushes is so soft and the soothing scent from the pretty flowers lulls you into a deeper sleep than you had originally intended.

shadow demon!hwa who spots you napping between the bunches of flowers and nearly draws his claws out. he’d crouch down by you, trying to think of the best way to wake you up without scaring you. but that doesn’t happen as you smell a new presence.

shadow demon!hwa who forces himself to not coo at your drowsy state. but before he could get a word in edge-wise, your eyes widened comically as you shuffled away from him, muttering out a flutter of apologies.

shadow demon!hwa who can’t help but find his demeanour softening as he watches your ears twitch. he talks so softly to you as if to not suddenly spook you.

shadow demon!hwa who spent the next two hours trying to coax you out of his lavender bushes with slow movements and soft words. once he gained enough of your trust, he’d hold a hand out to you, offering to help you stand and he’s trying not to laugh when you as you shakily put your hand in his.

shadow demon!hwa who tries to get you into the house but you start pulling against him; so he lets you sit on the steps leading to the back door while he goes in to prepare some tea. he even leaves the door open to see if he can tempt you in and boy, oh boy, did it tempt you.

shadow demon!hwa who comes back out after putting water to boil and finds you very intently scanning his display cases. he’ll lean against the doorway and watch you tip-toe to see what’s on the higher shelves and shamelessly stare at the way your tail swishes when you find something interesting.

shadow demon!hwa who pats the space on his couch and adores how you quietly take a seat beside him. he’ll hand you the mug of tea and simply say, “we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, just enjoy the tea with me.”

shadow demon!hwa who loves your curiosity and tells you stories about every item you looked at on his shelves.

shadow demon!hwa who has to force himself to look away from you every few seconds so he doesn’t kiss you breathlessly.

shadow demon!hwa who literally spends god knows how long talking with you because he loves how attentive you are (he loves seeing you mindlessly nod your head and look at him with big, shiny eyes).

shadow demon!hwa who jokingly offers for you to sleep in his back garden rather than his spare bedroom. he laughs and rubs your ears before taking your hand and leading you to his guest room. he’ll even lend you some old clothes, he’s willing to part with for you to sleep in.

shadow demon!hwa who makes sure to have you shower before you get into bed. he goes into his garden and grabs a few lavender bunches to put into a small vase to put on your nightstand.

shadow demon!hwa who makes up in the middle of the night to your form curled up against his back and shaking. he finds out you had a nightmare and immediately pulls you into him. he finds it adorable when you snuggle your head into his chest but he doesn’t say anything and opts to wrap himself around you and cover you with his blanket.

shadow demon!hwa who has you falling back asleep within a few minutes to petting between your ears. though it was hard to register the fact that you woke up with your head against his chest and his arms wrapped around your hips.

shadow demon!hwa who grumbles for you to go back to sleep because it’s too early and then proceeds to tighten his grip around you. laying awake against his chest while one of his hands mindlessly travels down to your tail.

shadow demon!hwa who strokes the soft fur and smiles softly when it twitches against his palm. but what he does not account for is how sensitive the skin around your tail is; his fingers will occasionally rub against your lower back, making you pray that he doesn’t hear how hard your heart is beating or how your hips are constantly shifting to alleviate the pressure between your thighs.

shadow demon!hwa who unfortunately has already picked up on it. somehow within the night, his thigh had gotten trapped between yours; just seems as though you haven’t realized it yet. he could feel everything; the way your hips trembled against his thigh, the way you bit your lip to stay quiet, and the way you buried yourself in his chest to muffle any noises that came out of you.

shadow demon!hwa who is trying not to lose himself in your scent; it’s morning dew with hints of florals and it’s driving him mad. it takes every fibre in Seonghwa’s being to not push against your thigh that has now pressed itself against his crotch.

shadow demon!hwa who shifts you closer to him with a shallow breath and says “let me hear you, sweet thing.” as he guides your hips on his thigh again.

shadow demon!hwa who ruts against your leg as you let out the sweetest moans that he’s ever heard. just laying in his bed, wrapped in his arms, and humping against his leg.

shadow demon!hwa who lets go of all the praise that he’s been dying to shower you in. “keep going, pretty, make yourself feel good on me.” “don’t hide from me now, bambi. eyes on me, baby.”

shadow demon!hwa who finally gets to kiss you breathless, all because you looked up at him with those big, shiny eyes and clung to him so tightly.

shadow demon!hwa who nearly came at just the sound of his name falling from your lips.

shadow demon!hwa who moves you to straddle him, his hips bucking uncontrollably as you grind and swivel your hips on him.

shadow demon!hwa whose hands are glued to your thighs and hips as he ruts his aching cock against you.

shadow demon!hwa who coos at you when you whine and paw at his chest, growing more desperate for real contact with each thrust of his hips.

shadow demon!hwa who taunts you gently, laughing as he pulls your hips down to grind against your heat. “oh, yeah? you like it when i do that, baby?”

shadow demon!hwa who moans into your neck as he cums

shadow demon!hwa whose grip is bruising your hips as he bounces you on his lap.

shadow demon!hwa whose cock twitches when your body stills as you come undone. “you look so pretty when you’re cumming for me.”

[jamespotterismydaddy]

In the Wine Cellar

aegon x reader smut

TW: smut, dubcon, incest, pussy slapping, overstimulation, little bit of degrading

word count: 1,845 words

You’re woken up in the dead of night by someone pounding on your bedroom door and you rub your tired eyes as you sit up in your bed. Who would possibly be calling on you this late?

“Who’s there?” You call out nervously, surely your guard wouldn’t have let anyone dangerous get to the door of your chambers.

“Sister…” Aegon’s voice is whiny and he’s clearly tipsy. All of your hesitance fades away but the annoyance sets in. You step out of bed, cringing at the feeling of the cold stone floor against your bare feet as you pad over to the door, opening it to reveal your smirking brother.

“I was sleeping, Aegon.” There’s an impish grin on his face as he takes in the sight of you. Your nightgown is less modest than some ladies would don and you can tell your dear brother quite appreciates it by the intense look in his eyes.

“What kind of proper lady goes to bed in such an immodest state? I am absolutely appalled. I should inform mother.” He leans against your doorframe as he speaks, a mocking look of shock on his face.

“What do you want?” You ask him with a roll of your eyes. He delights in how irritated you seem to be with him.

“Is there something wrong with me wanting to check in on my little sister?” He eyes you seductively, a hand coming up to twirl your hair around his finger.

“Mayhaps you should check in on your wife instead?” You flick his hand off.

“But you are the one who needs true tending to. A sweet rose like you needs to be watered so you may… bloom.” He sucks on his lower lip as his eyes fall to your breasts. You cross your arms to cover them from his hungry gaze.

“By water do you mean wine, brother?” You glare at him.

“Hm… that is a tantalizing thought…” His mouth twitches up slightly as he seems to be in deep thought. “... but I was thinking of my own personal version of hydration. A sweet nectar that can be applied to those soft lips of yours.”

“Leave now. I want to go to sleep.” You place a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly.

“I know the perfect way to help you back to sleep, little rose. It’ll tire you out for sure.” The playful smirk never leaves his face as he gets closer. You can feel the heat of his breath on your face.

“There's no way in the Seven Hells that I am letting you into my room right now.”

“Even if I promised to be extra gentle?” He places a hand on your waist, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

“No.” You put both hands on his chest and push him out but he grabs you by the waist and makes you leave the room with him.

“If I can’t come in then i’ll take you someplace else.” He says, taking you by the hand and dragging you along.

“Aegon, I don’t have shoes on!” He ignores your protests as he leads you through the castle. “Where are we even going?”

“My favourite place in the Red Keep.” He grins impishly as he takes you all the way down to… the wine cellar.

“Seriously? Mother will have a fit if she finds us here in the middle of the night.”

“Oh gods, when did you get so boring? Have a little fun for once.” He reaches up to grab two bottles of Arbour Red and hands one to you.

“You know that I hardly have a taste for wine.” You don’t take the bottle.

“C’mon just have a sip for your big brother.” He uncorks the first bottle and gives you his puppy dog eyes with a pout on his lips. “Just one little sip.” He brings the bottle up to your lips and you easily give in, parting your lips to let the crimson wine slip through. You don’t swallow though, not really liking the bitter taste on your tongue. “Now, swallow for me.” The look in his eyes tells you to obey so you swallow the wine, trying not to cringe. “There’s my good girl.” You try to move away but his grip on your hip keeps you pulled flush against him. He keeps pouring the wine down your throat, the bottle held to your lips like he’s feeding a babe. The wine dribbles down your chin and onto your chest as you finally push him off.

“You said a sip!” You wipe the wine off your chest as he brings a hand to your mouth, wiping the drink off your lip with his fingers before bringing them to his own mouth and sucking it off. He never breaks eye contact as he does.

“You can’t handle the taste, sweet rose?’ He takes a swig from the bottle before putting it down. “I can think of another kind of nectar that would help you bloom nicely.” His eyes darken as he presses himself against you. You step back but he just keeps stalking you until you’re cornered against the wall.

“Don’t be stupid.” You duck under his arm and make for the door but he catches you by the arm and he sits by the wine bottles, pulling you into his lap with him.

“Ugh.” You grunt as you squirm a little in his lap but you eventually stop, not truly wanting to leave his hold.

“Good girl. No need to put on a show for big brother. I know what you want.” He lifts the bottle to your lips and makes you drink more before bringing it to his lips and finishing it off. Your head is starting to feel a little cloudy at this point. He turns you a little so he can see your face. His fingertips brush lightly over your lips before they begin to trail down your throat to the swell of your chest. Your hand comes up to hold his, stopping the movement.

“You shouldn’t.” 

“But I will.” He whispers these words in your ear as his hand slips under the top of your nightgown to grope your breasts. You can feel the heat of his breath on your neck before he begins to kiss you there; you feel dizzy. Your hands go up to push him away but you end up gripping his tunic instead. He licks up your neck a little and leaves a mark.

“A-Ah…” You moan a little from the combined sensations of him squeezing your breast and sucking on your neck.

“I knew you’d like it, little whore.” His other hand reaches up to grip your hair. “You want me to touch you…” He nips at your collarbone. “... taste you.” The hand that was on your chest reaches up to the strap of your nightgown. He brings his lips to yours in a messy kiss to distract you from him slipping the strap off your shoulder. The hand that was in your hair does the same thing to the other side. You gasp, feeling the cool air on your bare skin as the nightgown falls to your hips. You break the kiss.

“Aegon!” You chastise him as you bring your hands up to cover your naked breasts.

“It’s fine. Be a good girl and move your arms.”

“You’ll ruin me for my future husband.” You glare at him through your drunken haze.

“You’ll never have a husband that’ll make you feel the way that I do right now.” He grabs your wrists and leans in to whisper in your ear. “Let me give you a night to remember.” He nips at your ear. “Let me be your first.” You think for a moment before lifting your hands to his tunic… you begin to unbutton it. He grins. “My naughty little rose.” He undoes his trousers and you pull his tunic off.

“I hate you.” Your words are a little slurred.

“You love me.” He takes your lips with his for another sloppy kiss. He forces his tongue into your mouth before laying you back against the cold cellar floor. He pins his hands above your head so he can finally get a good look at your breasts. “Such perfect fucking tits.” You blush at the lewdness of it all as his mouth moves to your chest. He circles your nipple with his tongue and leaves little love bites all over before he switches to sucking on the other.

“Mmm…” You moan and he lifts his head up to give you another kiss.

“Let’s get the rest of this off, shall we?” He tugs your nightgown off the rest of the way, taking your smallclothes with it. “Look at this tight little cunt.” He gives you a light smack, right on the pearl, and you squeal. “Sorry.” He says, not really meaning it.

He removes his cock from his trousers and your eyes widen at the sight.

“It’s… large.” You bite your lip.

“You’ll love it.”he smirks as he spreads your legs open a bit more and begins to rub his length along your slit, coating it in your arousal. “You’re so fucking wet that it’ll just slip right it.” You blush once more and he laughs before kissing you again, sheathing himself inside your cunny. He gives you a little chance to adjust before beginning to slide himself in and out.

“Oh gods.” You whimper as he hits that sweet spot.

“I told you you’d love it.” He begins to quicken his pace and groans a bit as you squeeze around him. “You’re so tight.” He grunts. “I wanna keep this tiny cunny all to myself.” His thrusts get rougher as he gets lost in the pleasure.

“H-Harder.” You whine and he grins before beginning to piston in and out of you, his hips slapping against yours at a brutal pace. “Fuck.” You moan as his fingers come down to rub your pearl.

“I want to feel you cum around me, little sister. Cum around my cock as I ruin you for every other man.” His cock continues to slam into you as you reach your peak, the waves of pleasure washing over you. He fucks you through your high and then some as he begins to overstimulate you.

“No… no more.” You beg for mercy as his ruthless pace continues.

“Don’t be selfish.” He scolds as he chases his high. You whine as he keeps fucking into you, the pleasure being too much to handle after your peak. He lets you suffer a bit before he finally gets close. You sigh in relief as he finally pulls out and releases his spend onto your stomach. You both just catch your breath for a moment before he lays on his back next to you and pulls you into his side. “Good job.” He mumbles as you rest your head on his chest. 

The sight of the two of you sure gives some serving boy a fright the next morning.

taglist (comment to be added): @valeskafics @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies

[14dayswithyou]

TEO MY HUSBAND I MISSED YOU BOOKIE BEAR!!! 🩵🩵🩵

Could I have some college content with me Angel and Teo? Mayhaps in the campus library doing work and he’s trying to be distracting?

WARNING... minors/ageless blogs: do not interact. please read my pinned post before you send in anything !!

Rosie I'm STILL IN THE ROOM!!!!!!! 🧍‍♀️

Not proofreadin this you already know what's up!!! 💗

"Hey. Pay attention to me."

You try your best to ignore the way Teo pokes and prods at your cheek with the blunt end of your pencil, before he seemingly grows bored of the action and moves on to idly flipping through the pages of the book in front of you instead. 

"Where's Jae?" Without looking, you shoot him a question. "Shouldn't you be bothering him instead of me?"

"He's busy helping his dormmate dye its hair again." Teo's fingers move from the pages and drift towards your free hand instead. "...You should let me dye yours as well. Wouldn't that be fun?"

"..." You pull your hand away from his and flip the page, "No."

"C'mon. What's it gonna take for you to pull that stick out of your ass and get your nose outta those books? I'm bored."

"Teo," You sighed deeply, "I need to study for my finals. You know I can't afford to fail this term."

"That's all?" You could practically hear him scoff. "Don't worry that pretty little head of yours, starshine; your professors are a bunch of fuckin' chumps. One word from me and they'll give you whatever grade you want. Now, c'mon." 

Teo nudges your arm to goad you into packing up your belongings and leaving with him, yet you don't seem to move. "...Seriously?"

You send the dark-haired male a pointed look before returning to your papers once more. Although annoyingly, he takes that as an invitation to scoot closer and lean in dangerously close to your ear.

"...I'll take my shirt off if you don't move."

No response.

"Pants, too."

If he wanted to get kicked out of the campus library for public indecency, that was on him.

"I'll pull the fire alarm."

That almost gets a twitch out of you — knowing fully well that the muscular man beside you was definitely the type of guy who'd do such a thing — but he's been acting more... compliant lately, and you didn't dare ask why.

"...Fine. Suit yourself."

Although you can't see Teo from your peripheral vision, you can hear him slouch back into the chair with a heavy sigh, before he pulls out his phone and obnoxiously starts typing away.

It was certainly odd to have him linger quietly by your side like this — normally, when Teo got sick of something, he'd toss whatever it was aside and find something more entertaining to do instead. So this... This certainly wasn't what you were expecting.

You had half a mind to ask if Teo would oh-so-kindly switch his phone to silent if he wanted to text that loudly, but you decided it was best not to waste time on trivial things. Your cheat sheet wasn't going to revise itself, so you instead focused your attention back to the words in front of you and tried to shut the annoying guy out.

But Teo certainly made things difficult when he absentmindedly threw an arm over the back of your chair and leaned closer to your side. You could practically feel the heat from his thigh as he brushes them up against yours — and if you weren't so hellbent on shutting his presence out — you would've noticed the subtle scent of his cologne wafting in your direction.

Old money, luxury, and the faintest hint of smoke.

Your eyebrows twitch at the audible ding! of his phone, indicating that he must've gotten a text from someone. You pretend not to notice how he lets out a puff of laughter at whatever is on his screen... Obviously, he was trying to bait you into looking in his direction to see what was so funny — but upon realising that it wasn't working — he goes back to typing something instead.

But once he's done, Teo decides to throw his phone onto the table instead of shoving it into his pocket like usual. His screen stays lit for a few more seconds before it fades to black, but you were quick enough to catch a glimpse of his lock screen before it was gone.

There, for anyone to see, was a picture of you: with your arms resting on the table as you focussed on the textbooks laid out in front of you — with a soft look of concentration on your face.

[moonstruckme]

Hello again!! (How are u!!)

I saw this thing going around of characters being written with the prompt “who did this to you?” And I think that could be especially delicious with Peter (TASM ofc) 😋 could work as reader being the hurt one or even .. vice versa!! Mayhaps Peter got hurt and the reader is the one to bust someone up, and shows up to class with a broken nose lmao whatever interests you more

- Lots o love 🍁

Thanks for requesting ml!

cw: bloody noses

tasm!Peter Parker x hothead!reader ♡ 878 words

“Just give me a name, Peter!” You’re storming after him, no help at all as your boyfriend pinches his nose closed between his thumb and forefinger, looking around the kitchen for something to stop the bleeding. “Why won’t you tell me?” 

“Because—” Peter finds the paper towels, wadding one up and stuffing it under his nose. “—because I don’t need you running around Brooklyn with a baseball bat over my bruised nose.” 

“It could be broken!”

“I would know,” he says, oddly confident. Peter leans back against the counter, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Your heart aches to see him in pain, but the blood it’s pumping feels like fire, and you prefer to focus on that. “I appreciate that you want to avenge me, sweetheart, but I can handle myself.” 

You give him a deadpan look even though his eyes aren’t open to see it. “Pete, you know I love you just as you are, but you’re not exactly built like a fighter.” 

“I’m stronger than you think.” 

“Be that as it may,” you go on, rolling your eyes at his macho (and in your opinion, completely delusional) self-assessment, “I want to help.” You move closer to him, placing a hand under his head to support the awkward angle of his neck. Peter opens his eyes to give you a grateful look, and you take the paper towel from him, checking to make sure his nose is still bleeding before putting it gently back in place. “I just want to know who did this to you,” you say softly. “Please, honey?”

Peter eyes you, but you see the endearment taking effect, the slight softening in his features and the twitch his hand gives on the counter, instinctively reaching for you.

“It’s not a satisfying answer,” he says after a minute.

“That’s alright,” you encourage him. “I’ll take anything.” 

Peter sighs. “Alright, I didn’t want to tell you because it’s embarrassing.” You feel your eyebrows pinch, but stay quiet. “I saw some guy stealing a lady’s bike in Bushwick, and when I tried to grab it from him, I nailed myself in the face with the handlebars.”  

You feel your eyes go wide, and Peter’s mouth curves on one side in a sheepish half-smile.

“That’s not embarrassing,” you say. “You were trying to help. Anyway, it sounds to me like it was the bike thief’s fault.” 

Peter actually laughs, then grimaces, hand flinching toward his nose. “Yeah, I thought you might say something like that. Can’t give you a name there, baby. I was distracted, so all I saw was the back of his red beanie while he was running off.” 

You pout at him, stroking at the skin beside his nose tenderly. “Well what were you gonna do, chase him down? Then you might’ve really gotten beat up.” 

Peter’s cheeks color faintly pink. “Yeah, maybe. Anyway,” he moves on quickly, taking on a satisfied tone, “there’s no one to get revenge on. I did it to myself.” 

You hum noncommittally. “Well, I’m sorry you got hurt.” 

Peter grins, and when he removes the paper towel this time, the bleeding has stopped. “Thanks, pretty girl,” he says in a familiar tone, hands finding your hips and angling them against his. “If you wanna make me feel better, I’ve got some ideas.” 

You do make him feel better. And the next day, you come into class feeling a lot better too. 

“Shit,” Peter hisses when you sit down beside him, reaching over to turn your face towards the light so he can better make out the bruises around your nose and the dried blood still crusted around your nostrils. “What the hell happened to you?” 

You shrug, enjoying the feel of his hands on your face. “You should see the other guy,” you joke (though really, you wish you had thought to take a picture). “Anyway, now we’re matching.” 

“When I said it’d be fun to match at school someday, this is not what I meant,” Peter insists, thick eyebrows knit together worriedly. “And who’s the other guy? Did you find a bike to beat you up too?” 

“Better.” You smirk. “A bike thief.” 

It’s possible you get too much enjoyment out of watching Peter’s face as it slackens, eyebrows moving gradually upward as his eyes widen in realization. “Wha—but, sweetheart, there’s no way you found the same guy. Did you just pick a fight with some random bike thief?” 

“No, I think it was him.” You quirk an eyebrow. “Tall, red beanie, giant tattoo on his neck?”

Peter’s lips part in wonderment, and you have your confirmation.

“I figured those guys usually work in the same area every time. So when I saw a dude with a red beanie stealing a bike in Bushwick, I was pretty sure I had the right guy.” 

“So, what?” Peter scrubs a hand through his hair. “You went and riled him up until he punched you in the face? Baby, what were you thinking?” 

You roll your eyes. “I got even,” you clarify, leaning back in your seat as the bell rings. “Anyway, your nose might just be bruised, but his is definitely broken. Like I told you, you should see the other guy.” 

[hyunsvngs]

han with glasses oh my god… he looks so cute and nerdy i wanna ride his dick until he’s squirming and whining under me and he pisses inside of me

also can I be 🦈 anon if that isn’t taken?

i apologise for this living in my drafts but it's because i've had to take severely deep breaths everytime i read it

BECAUUUSEE.. for the first one.. nerdy jisung who tries to act innocent buttt he's so filthy on the inside. he tries to act as if he doesn't want to play with piss with you, as if he doesn't want to piss inside you, yet the second you sink your wet cunt down onto him he's done. he throws his head back so forcefully his glasses almost fall off of his face and you giggle, repositioning them on his nose.

"what is it, hannie?" you coo, tilting your head to the side. he shakes his head, cheeks crimson. he's embarrassed, but you swear you feel his cock twitch in anticipation inside of you. "you still gotta pee?"

he nods, eyes scrunched shut tightly. it's then that you start to bounce, thighs slapping on top of his and fingers aching to push up his oversized hoodie to see the caramel skin of his tummy. you're not stopping until he's filling you up with it.

and maybe it's a few weeks later he finally convinces you to go to the library with him, and you've sufficiently brought him out of his shell. he's wearing another one of his comfy hoodies again, glasses pushed up on his nose precariously as he nuzzles at the skin of your neck. it makes you giggle, but you know what he wants.

"we are in a library, baby."

jisung huffs. "just the tip, i swear," his voice is low, deep, but you hear him clearly. you're wondering who else can hear him too. "just the tip and then i'll be fine, i'll study. i'm so horny, don't you feel bad for making me this dirty?"

you knew he was that dirty already, he just likes to hide it and pretend that you've corrupted him. you still sigh, slinking onto his lap. jisung's legs thrash around with glee, his arms moving to wrap around your waist.

you try to ignore the looks you get after your boyfriend fills you up with something more than just the tip of his cock and you're walking out with a limp.

p.s 🦈 anon is taken so what about mayhaps 🐟!??! we do not have a fishie friend yet

[writingdungeon-inactive]

Also mayhaps Sebastian chasing us through the woods with a mask on.

“I’m gonna give you a choice, farmer. Either you let me fuck you right here, or you can try to run- but I promise when I catch you, I won’t be as nice.”

I might write more, for now I have massive fan girl sickness for anyone in masks and start melting and screaming when I try to.

Your heart pounded in your ears as you sprinted through the Cindersap Forest, legs burning with each frantic step. The dense trees cast jagged shadows under the glow of the moon, which filtered through the forest canopy like scattered beams of silver. It was well past one in the morning, and the only sound besides your labored breathing was the dull crunch of leaves and twigs beneath your feet.

You skidded to a stop, lungs on fire as you took in your surroundings, eyes darting through the darkness. The forest was eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of nocturnal creatures. For a brief moment, you thought you might’ve lost him. But just as you began to catch your breath, a sudden rustle broke the silence.

Whipping around, your gaze landed on him—the masked figure charging through the underbrush, his steps quick and purposeful. Any normal person would be terrified, but knowing the man behind the mask was Sebastian made your pulse quicken for an entirely different reason. This wasn’t fear. This was a game—a dangerous, exhilarating game of cat and mouse.

You smirked, taking off again with renewed energy, knowing you couldn’t make it too easy for him. But as you weaved between the trees, his footsteps grew louder, closer. The gap between you was shrinking fast.

Your lungs burned, and a laugh escaped your lips just before you felt it—Sebastian’s hand grabbing your arm. With a quick tug, he yanked you back toward him, spinning you around in one swift motion. His grip was firm, but not painful, and before you could react, he had you pressed against a nearby tree, caging you in with his body.

“Got you,” he growled softly, his voice low and breathless, his face inches from yours. You could hear the heaviness in his breathing, almost feeling the heat pulsing off his body.

“I’m gonna give you a choice, farmer,” Sebastian growled, the smirk on his face carrying in his voice as he leaned in closer. His gaze was intense, playful, but dark. “Either you let me fuck you right here, or you can try to run—but I promise, when I catch you, I won’t be as nice.”

You blinked, trying to hold back a laugh as you sighed softly. “Sebastian, that's… That's so cliché.” A smirk of your own tugged at your lips, especially when you heard his muffled groan in frustration.

He ripped the mask off his face, his red face and eyebrows furrowed together in a way that made you burst out laughing. “Okay, you try being sexy, scary, and chasing someone all at once,” he grumbled, as he took a deep breath as he tried to steady his breathing.

Stepping closer to him and patting him on the chest. “You’re more of the ‘brooding and mysterious’ type.” You teased reaching up to poke his nose.

Sebastian shot you a mock glare, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a half-smile.

“Brooding and mysterious, huh?” He tilted his head slightly, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly tone. “Either way you're in danger right now, aren't you?”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a smirk. “Oh really? And what kind of danger are we talking about here?”

His smirk darkened as he leaned in until his lips were barely an inch from your ear, his voice a low, teasing whisper. “The kind that makes you wonder if maybe you should’ve run when you had the chance.”

[snailmail444]

Since your asks are open...a friends with benefits situation with Alex. Mayhaps Alex and farmer catch feelings, writers choice. Thanks. ✌

Alex FWB

18+ 🌱 NSFW 🌱 MDNI

Ohhh man you opened the door for ANGST so. Angst. NSFW under the cut!

“I’ve got you,” he breathes, pressing her against the door, “it’s okay.”

Dizzying. Everything’s dizzying between the presses of his lips and the wandering of his hands. Alex has his hands posted at the backs of her thighs, backing up and nearly staggering, but never threatening to drop her as he finds his way to the bedroom.

She wishes—not for the first time—that she had a sturdier bed. One Alex could throw her across and fuck her into the sheets on.

“Alex,” she chews her lip, batting her eyelashes up at him. She’s needy, “please?”

He’s so weak for it when she asks nicely. His face flushes and his eyes wander, and she fights the urge to make fun of him. That’ll come later, when they’re both goofing off and playing video games or working out.

Now she can’t risk killing the mood. Even if she thinks it’s so cute to see Alex bashful like this.

“How do you want me,” he smiles sheepishly when he asks, leans down and delicately places a hand on her thigh. Like they haven’t done this a million times. Like he wasn’t just carrying her. Like he couldn’t throw her around and take however he wants.

Considerate. He’s always so considerate.

“I want—” she stops, considers, “let me be on top?”

Alex is all too eager to comply. He’s shedding her clothes with a gentle purpose, trailing his mouth along newly exposed swathes of flesh and dropping everything gently into a pile. Until the both of them are undressed, and he’s on his back and she’s nigh on devouring him.

He smells like the shampoo she likes. His hands are on her hips the way she told him to do. His sounds are so hot, and beautiful, and painfully familiar that it aches.

Alex is comfort. Coming home after a long day. Drinking hot tea on a cold morning. Watching a movie for the hundredth time. That’s what he feels like.

It’s something that’s quickly becoming a problem. Something she’s getting too used to, needing too much.

It takes almost nothing before he’s inside her. Inch by beautiful inch, filling her in the way only he ever has. She can feel his hips twitching against hers, his thighs shifting and his fingers flexing, and she knows he’s holding off for her. Waiting for the okay, for the go ahead to fuck her so hard she sees stars.

“Alex,” she purrs it against his mouth, circles her hips and laces her fingers into her hair, “fuck me.”

And he does. Deep and hard and not too fast. He’s mindful not to grip her hips too hard, fingers flexing even as he flushes from his hairline to his collarbone.

He doesn’t ever leave marks—said it would be uncool. That if she got with somebody else, they might get the wrong idea. Plus, no evidence means nobody asks questions. Because what would granny think, him messing around with a friend he’s bot even dating.

She wishes he would. That he would bruise her and press himself into her skin. She wants to tell him that she’s not going to get with somebody else. She wants to tell him that she wants everybody to know what they get up to.

Because if they all know, maybe they won’t try to take him away. Nobody else will think they can have him, because he’s perfect and she’s selfish and she’s beginning to think she can’t spend her life having him but not having him.

She’s crying. Long since folded over on his chest, gasping and begging against his collarbone and so desperate to leave a hickey there. To leave them everywhere. To paint him in the purples and blues of someone who’s taken.

“Do you want me to make you come?” Alex’s voice is soft, if strained, and she can’t do anything but nod against him. Right now she’ll have to content herself with her tears drying on his skin. It’s not permanent, not visible, but it’s the best she has.

He does make her come. It echoes through her body; down and back and back and back again, and she thinks she would be falling apart if he weren’t holding her so tight. If he weren’t moaning sweet praise into her hair and bucking his hips like he’s trying to burrow himself inside of her permanently.

When he finishes she feels unsatisfied. She couldn’t handle any more, and he made her feel so fucking good, but she’s not had her fill. Because him being finished means him leaving soon. And she’s insatiable—she needs more. Needs him to hold her, and kiss her, and stroke her hair, and tell her he loves her, he loves her so much he can’t live without her anymore because she can’t live without him.

“You alright?” Once he has his presence of mind, he’s gentle in detaching them. He brushes the sweaty hairs out of her face. Rubs the places he knows she gets sore because he’s working on his physical therapy and he doesn’t want her to get all out of place, he said. Forces her to drink some water because he gets anxious about dehydration, especially when she gets weepy. Asks her if she wants something to eat because she just burned a lot of calories, and because she needs to refuel.

She wants to tell him to stop, that it’s too good, that it’s sun so bright on her skin it’s burning.

“Hey,” Alex strokes her face in the way he only ever does when he wants her attention, “you seem…I don’t know. If you want, I can stay? I know we don’t do that, really, but I could.”

“Granny would—“ she starts, and she sounds tired and like her protest is as forged as it is.

“I’ll worry about Granny,” Alex says, and tucks himself into her bed. “You seem like you need a friend right now.”

She doesn’t explain why that makes her sob, even when he asks.

[simping-on-the-daily]

though we don't share the same blood you're my brother and i love you (mayhaps a bit too much)

Summary: Your family has just moved to Witwicky, and you're trying to cope with it as smoothly and healthily are you can. An outburst from your little brother at the dinner table sends his sister after him, and the next thing you know, you've got two new siblings. They're a little off, though. And no, it's not because they're part Cybertronian.

Warnings: General yandere themes, possible OOC characters, unhealthy sibling dynamics, not beta read we die like Brawl

Notes: Twitch, Thrash and the reader are adopted siblings and purely platonic. Do not be weird about this or I will piss on your toes and shove them up your nose. Title is from Brother by Kodaline, reader is in their teens and the oldest who does not want to be here and is trying to get used to everything

You had zero interest in living in Witwicky, much less a farm. Saying goodbye to all your friends and the big city stung, much less the unfamiliar environment that you were now. You loved mum and dad, you really did, but did they expect you to tend to cows? Sure, mum wanted to be a park ranger and you wanted the best for her, but you still felt a little grumpy at the strange and sudden change.

You tried to deal with it, though. The Internet here wasn't the best, but you got some online guides about how to cope with moving and tried to replicate them to the best of your ability. You still responded to your friend's group chats and tried to not complain about it. You didn't want to accidentally hurt your family's feelings by being overly grumpy, and Mo especially was prone to a wide and wild range of emotions.

It was just one dinner. One normal dinner turning into Robby venting about his issues and running away from the table, Mo after him. The two were close, so you didn't chase after them, and besides; your dad had cooked tonight. You were not abandoning such good food made by yours truly.

So, after dinner, you went to bed, blissfully unaware that your younger siblings were creating a brand new species from lake water and ancient alien artifacts.

The next few days were fucking hectic, to say the least. Mum was now a GHOST agent, working alongside Optimus Prime and the Autobots (the inner child in you really wanted one of their autographs, but you knew it probably wasn't the right time), Robby and Mo got new alien tattoos which you realized were permanent, and you were in the car, chasing after the aliens that Robby and Mo had gotten attached to. Because they created them.

.....Fuck, could you go back to Philly now?

Now you had some Cybertronian human hybrids (Terrans, that apparently some mad scientist had called them) living in your farm with your younger siblings insisting that they were now your new siblings and for you to please be nice to them because they knew you could be a little blunt. You just wanted to burrow your head down in the dirt like an emu and let sweet death take you.

As for Thrash and Twitch, they had no reservations to calling you family. Just because you didn't have a cybersleeve like Robby and Mo that doesn't mean they weren't your sibling, and wanted to treat you accordingly.

To your credit, you weren't rude to them, and though you knew it would take a while to get used to their presence, you treated them with dignity and basic respect as you did to Robby and Mo. But it was obvious to everyone that you weren't fully on board with them just yet, always hesitant when talking to them. The move, the threat that GHOST would invade the place and get you in trouble, and the close contact to the Cybertronian's (god, fucking Bumblebee lived with you now) would take you a little while to get adjusted to.

But for Twitch and Thrash, that was a bit harder to understand. With Robby and Mo, the cybersleeves allowed them to feel what they felt and get to the root of the problem. But you didn't have a cybersleeve, and though they could get that you weren't on board yet, they thought that it they just got close to you, you'd be comfy around them and you could fully embrace them as your siblings!

And so, they got.....clingy. Twitch offered to help you with the chores, not taking no for an answer, and even went against her competitive nature to let you keep the stars. She even tried to let you ride her alt mode like Robby enjoyed, but you were heavier then him and a rocky landing got you a broken ankle, a hit head and some bitter feelings for the time being. Twitch didn't understand the time being part, and cried to her parents about hurting you, despite their assurances that you would be fine and that they knew any bitter feelings from you would pass. She tried numerously to sneak out and see you at the hospital, but some reprimanding and reminders about GHOST stopped her, but instead made her sulk all the way to the barn.

Thrash was desperate to act like a 'cool bro' to you, but he often tried the same things he did with Mo, temporarily and frequently forgetting that you didn't have the same interests as her. He tried to project of someone trustworthy and realible, constantly by your side and attempting to impress you by showing off fancy tricks, alt mode based or otherwise. But when he and accidentally bought Swindle to the house, bad blood increased, especially when them sneaking out to assist him resulted in Mo sneaking out and breaking the law. Nine was no time to develop a criminal record!

Everything was happening so fast for you. There were no time to sit and breathe because everyday something was happening and you just wanted to be safe. Fuck, you wanted to go home. You wanted to meet your friends again, you wanted your family to be safe, you just wanted everything to be normal, and God damn it you mean it in the nicest way possible but Twitch and Thrash were anything but normal. You had made new friends but you could never invite them over because of the aliens living in your house, you were terrified for your mum's safety every day, and spending time with your dad, who was always so assuring, didn't quell the anxiety

They didn't get it. Mo and Robby were completely fine with them despite getting in trouble all the time, but you were still hesitant over them despite it having been a few weeks. Shouldn't you have been used to them by now? Everyone else was, except you. Were they doing something wrong? They just wanted to feel accepted by you; they didn't want to make you feel scared around them. They would just have to try harder!

Without the cybersleeve, they made a list of all of your hobbies, likes and body language, doing everything to figure out what they would need to do to make you enjoy their company. You like flowers? Twitch stole mum's flowerbed and handed it to you. Thrash would beg Dot and Alex to set up your favourite holiday decorations and celebrate early. And yes, they watched you sleep. The way you clutched your pillow, the way your chest heaved with every breath, even the incoherent sleepwalking, Twitch and Thrash kept it in a special file all about you in the processor if they needed the info later (thank Bumblebee for telling them about that)! They asked Bumblebee to contact your favourite Autobot, provided that they weren't going to rat them out, and begged the Cybertronian to write their autograph on your behalf

Everyday when you came home from school, they asked you all the questions. With Robby and Mo they unconsciously knew all the big details, but with you they wanted all the gossip. If you were getting bullied or harassed during school, they'd try to take your mind off of it by distracting you with all the things you like, which they know about due to the files. Occasionally they'd try and teach your bullies a lesson, but a few sharp reminders from Dot about no sneaking out forced them to rely on mum and dad to handle any personal issues at school. They'd help you with homework, taking in every note from your hatred of algebra to the way you stuck out your tongue while working, all in the hopes that you'd learn to love their company.

Don't worry, they're not going to do anything too drastic, as they still have a decent set of morals and the rest of the Malto's to rein them in. Still, their relationship with you is different from the one with Robby and Mo. All they want is to be a big happy family with everyone, and they're willing to do anything to achieve that with you. Even if they roped in the three new Terrans into feeling the same way about you and engaging in the same activites and adding their own notes to the general, you were family! You wouldn't hurt your family, right???

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 2) Chapter One

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter One: One Hell of a Circus

Summary: Ciel gets a new assignment, and he, Sebastian, and (Y/N) go the circus.

            (Y/N) and Sebastian sat across from Ciel as he reread the Queen’s latest letter once more. She spoke of circus troupe that travelled across the country and how the troupe’s visits coincided with the disappearances of children, of whom no trace, alive or dead, had been found since. People were beginning to whisper in fear of how the children disappeared into the night as if lured away by the Pied Piper. The Queen requested Ciel find the children and return them home as well as find the perpetrators.

            “Young Master,” said Sebastian. “If you are attributing this case to the Underworld, will we be calling on him again?”

            “To be honest, I would prefer to avoid it, but…” Ciel shivered at the idea of what chaos Soma could be causing in his townhouse. “I want to get back to the manor as soon as possible. Let’s go.”

            “That’s wise,” said (Y/N).

l

            “Are you in, Undertaker?” said Ciel as he stepped into the shop.

            “I bid thee welcome, Lord Earl!” giggled Undertaker. “Does your Lordship finally feel like stepping into the coffin that I’ve made specially for you, hmm?”

            “Why, you…” Ciel shivered.

            “In any case, have a seat,” said Undertaker. “I’ve just baked some cookies!”

            Ciel denied having a dog treat and instead explained the current case he was working on.

            “The corpses of children, hm…” said Undertaker.

            “They are treated as missing as being missing in polite society, and no bodies or the like have been found,” said Sebastian.

            “Well, in the Underworld, you see dead children every day, after all,” said Undertaker. “You’re weeell aware of that, aren’t you, Earl?”

            “I’ve brought the files along,” said Ciel, and (Y/N) procured the missing children’s files. “Among them, are there any you’ve cleaned up?”

            (Y/N) handed the paper to Undertaker, and he looked through. He giggled. “Who can say? Mayhaps there are? Maybe something amusing will bring it all back? You understand what I’m getting at, Milord??? Give it to me~! Bestow upon me the choicest laughter! Then I shall tell you anything!”

            “Sebastian,” said Ciel.

            “Very well,” said Sebastian, getting awfully focused for someone who was about to do comedy.

            “Relying on him again, are you?” chuckled Undertaker. “Guhuhu! Is Milord a child who cannot do a thing unless Master Butler is around? I don’t care who it is as long as it’s amusing!”

            Ciel’s eyes twitched. “I’ll do it.”

            “Are you sure?” said (Y/N) in amusement.

            “You two get out. Do not peek. I command you.” Ciel was humiliated enough as it was.

            “Yes, my Lord,” said Sebastian, bowing.

            (Y/N) and Sebastian stood outside the door of Undertaker’s shop.

            “Do you think he can do it?” said (Y/N).

            “Well, I can’t say the Young Master has never amused me, but it was usually accidental,” said Sebastian with a smirk.

            The two demons stood side-by-side as they waited. The sun rose and lowered until dusk tinged the sky. Finally, a giggle escaped through the door faintly. (Y/N) and Sebastian looked into the shop. Ciel was standing and panting, having taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Undertaker was giggling lightly.

            “Oh, I say,” said Undertaker. “To think the Earl Phantomhive would go that far!”

            “What on Earth did you do?” said Sebastian, tutting as he fixed Ciel’s suit again.

            “Don’t ask,” said Ciel.

            (Y/N) smirked. “You must have been trying very hard. It must be disappointing to get just a giggle.”

            “And for you to resort to performing tricks in the name of the Queen…you really are a dog,” said Sebastian musingly.

            “Enough. Shut your mouths,” said Ciel, an irk mark appearing. He turned to Undertaker. “Now I’ve paid your fee. So let’s hear about the children.”

            “There aren’t any,” said Undertaker, grinning.

            (Y/N), Ciel, and Sebastian went black. “Huh?”

            “None of these children were among my costumers, nor have I heard rumors about them in the underworld,” said Undertaker.

            “So you didn’t know anything about this incident at all?” Ciel’s irk mark grew larger.

            “Not quite. I know that I ‘do not know’ about it,” said Undertaker mischievously.

            Ciel deadpanned. “Did you deceive me?”

            “Not at all!” said Undertaker brightly. “This is terrible useful information, is it not?”

            “Indeed,” said (Y/N). “If you do not know and have heard of no such bodies, then that means the children are likely to still be alive for now.”

            “In which case, we have no other option left to us but to investigate said Circus Troupe directly,” said Ciel. He turned to the door. “Undertaker, contact me if you come across any information.”

            “Milord,” said Undertaker as Ciel opened the door. He smirked. “A person has but one soul. Take good care of yours.”

            The words hung in the air of the moment.

            “I already know that,” said Ciel with finality, stepping outside. Sebastian followed as did (Y/N) but for a final glance at Undertaker.

            Strange man.

l

            “This must be it,” said Ciel as he looked up at the brightly lit sign saying “Noah’s Ark Circus.”

            Colorful lights and streams lit the spaces between tents and confectionary and game stands, and people eagerly ran around trying out every food and game available. Various workers in cheery outfits kept people busy and enjoying themselves. There were no frowns on a single human face. (Y/N) never trusted appearances, so they remained on edge in the circus. After all, they all

            “By sight, it seems like an ordinary circus,” he continued as they walked into the main tent and sat down.

            A spotlight illuminated the dirt stage below. A man (Y/N) assumed was the troupe leader stood in the center, bright orange hair and colorful face paint stark amongst the darkness of the tent.

            “Ladies and gentlemen! Guests and friends! Boys and girls! On this fine day, we welcome ye to the Noah’s Ark Circus!” He flipped out eight colorful balls, and (Y/N) noticed one of his hands was a prosthesis, clearly modeled after a skeleton. “I am Joker!” He continued speaking while juggling until the rest of the main attractions of the troupe appeared in the tent beside him, still shadowed. “This circus, ‘tis packed full of acts to entertain and astound ye. Now! With a spectacular blast from our fire-eater, let the show of the century begin!” The fire-eater blew a blast of flames into the air, and the audience clapped.

            Joker gestured to the trapeze bar above him. “Next we have the flying trapeze act, with a duo in perfect sync!”

            Two twins, looking like young teenagers, posed before performing. They flew across the sky with ease, jumping from bar to bar. The audience gasped in fear as the girl fell lower, past the bar, but in a smoothly planned maneuver, the brother caught the girl. The audience clapped appreciatively as they landed safely and bowed.

            “And never missing a target, the knife thrower with a perfect record!” said Joker.

            The knife thrower spun his assistant on a circular target and threw a barrage of knives. The crowd gasped and fretted, but once the target slowed to a stop, it was revealed the assistant was perfectly fine and unharmed. Each knife was precisely framing her body so she left a silhouette behind when she stood up.

            “There’s nothing particularly special about the program,” said Ciel, unimpressed.

            “Yes. It is the usual circus,” said (Y/N).

            “It does not seem as though the missing children are being made to perform either,” said Sebastian.

            “For the next act, the princess of our circus undertakes her death-defying tightrope walk!” said Joker extravagantly. A performer dress in white and decorated in roses carried a parasol as she walked across a tightrope, suspended high above the ground.

            “If the goal wasn’t to put the children on display, then perhaps the travelling route of the circus coinciding with the missing children is simply coincidence?” considered Ciel.

            “And yet humans are such monstrously creative creatures that there are doubtless many reasons to kidnap children outside of using them as performers,” said (Y/N).

            “Now we have an extremely rare creature, half-man and half-snake. A magnificent dance by the snake man!” declared Joker, and a boy with white hair and a hint of scales among his skin moved in time to music as the snakes curling around him swayed.

            A whip cracked as the music ended, and Joker grinned.

            “And last but certainly not least, the star of our circus makes her entrance!” announced Joker.

            A woman with curly black hair in a black outfit that was reminiscent of a jester and a dominatrix grinned at the audience with a whip in hand. Behind her in a cage waited a tiger.

            “I would dearly love to have ye, the audience, participate in this act,” said Joker. “But only adults, please! No children in the final act.”

            Ciel tched. “It looks as if coming to this circus was rather a waste of time.” Sebastian stood up suddenly, stiff and focused.

            “Sebastian?” said (Y/N), raising an eyebrow.

            “What is it, did you fin—” Ciel was cut off as Joker spoke.

            “Good sir in the tailcoat, I see ye are most eager!” He chuckled gaily. “Hie ye to the stage then! Right this way, good man.”

            Ah. It’s an opportunity to get close, thought Ciel. “Go on, then.”

            “Yes, sir,” said Sebastian.

            Ciel watched Sebastian descend and climb over the barrier into the circus ring. Though he’s managed to get close to them, with all these people watching how do you expect to investigate?

            “Well, then, sir, might ye lie down over—!”

            Sebastian ignored Joker and went right to the tiger, caressing its face. “Oh, my, what round eyes you have!”

            The audience, and indeed Joker and the tamer, too, all froze at his words, aghast and afraid for his safety. Ciel short-circuited. He had forgotten one crucial fact about Sebastian: he loved cats. Tigers were cats.

            “Vivid stripes the likes of which I have never seen…And such soft ears,” crooned Sebastian, totally in love with the tiger before as he was with every cat he met. “You take my breath away.”

            (Y/N)’s nose twitched. Some things never changed, and they had to admit, they still liked seeing Sebastian be so gentle with the animals that were (Y/N)’s demonic motif.

            “Oh? Your claws have gotten a touch long,” continued Sebastian, heedless to the expressions of everyone watching him. He just loved cats. “You must not let your grooming go amiss now. Your paw pads are plump and also most enchanting.”

            The tiger’s maw closed around his face.

            Sebastian should know cats don’t usually like being touched, thought (Y/N). No sympathy there.

            The rest of the crowd screamed, and Ciel sighed.

            “Betty! Let go of him!” cried the tamer, and she cracked her whip towards the tiger.

            Sebastian caught the whip with one hand and removed his head from Betty’s jaws before she was injured. “She is not to blame. In the face of such loveliness, I simply could not stop myself from being thoughtlessly rude.” He glanced up at (Y/N). Some beings are just too tempting, albeit in different ways. “Furthermore, one cannot train animals by just blindly swinging one’s whip.”

            The tamer’s face turned red in angry embarrassment. Before she could respond, Betty leapt up and bit down on the back of Sebastian’s head.

            “Betty! Spit him out now!” cried the tamer.

            “My, my, so aggressive!” said Sebastian affectionately.

l

            “Who told you to go that far?” said Ciel as they walked out of the tent.

            “Forgive me.” Sebastian was positively glowing with happiness after his encounter with the tiger. “I have been alive for a long time, but cats are so whimsical, I can never quite read them.” He smirked at (Y/N).

            “Of course you couldn’t. Cats are untamable. We merely allow others in our presence,” said (Y/N) playfully.

            “And that is precisely one of the reasons I like them. They are discerning and know their power,” said Sebastian teasingly.

            (Y/N)’s heart twisted at his words. How nice it would be if he was speaking directly to them.

            Ciel sneezed, breaking the moment. “You know I’m allergic to cats! Stay away from me!”

            “There! There he is! Ye there, sir! Ye in the tailcoat!” Joker came running up behind them, calling to Sebastian, and the butler and maid paused while Ciel stopped a few paces on. “We really are sorry about what ‘appened back there.”

            “Not at all. Please forgive my untoward behavior,” said Sebastian, smiling.

            “Shocked me clean out my mind, ye did! Suddenly getting all close to the tiger like that. Where ye got bit, are ye sure it’s alright?” said Joker worriedly. “Anyway, it might be a good idea to get our troupe doctor to take a look at ye. Come ‘round back, if ye would.”

            Behind (Y/N) and Sebastian, Ciel stepped behind a stand. This was a chance for Sebastian to get closer to the troupe and properly investigate. Sebastian smirked.

            “Much obliged,” he said.

            “And your companion can come, too, of course. We’re not in the business of leaving people alone here at the circus!” said Joker jovially, smiling at (Y/N).

            They smiled and patted Sebastian’s shoulder. They seemed like a caring human friend. “I would like to make sure he gets to the tent and back safely.”

            “Of course! Come on, then!” said Joker, leading the way to the housing tents of the circuses.

Taglist:

@technikerin23

@im-making-an-effort

@izzieg3987

@jinxxangel13

@alexpangender

@otomyoli

@neenieweenie

@nex-crowley

@anxious-chick

@bellacastiel

@v1l-ismissing

@agentdedf1sh

@idkhowtoplayhoyoversegames

@iamsexytrash

@oceansfloor

[carnivorousyandeere]

i want erik (the prof) so badly even though hes so mean. i love the idea of this super meticulous man being in love with a dumpster fire. please keep up the good work and mayhaps if you can may i request some erik showing a fraction of affection to his darling?

Dumpster fire you say? How convenient, I have lots of personal experience in being one of those 😂

Aaa seriously though, thank you for the ask @seroft !!! This one is so sweet and was fun to write🥹💕

CW: illness, nonsexual nudity, local emotionally constipated man is trying his best

Erik is… concerned, when he wakes up to the sound of his alarm and doesn’t hear you grumbling next to him at the noise. Usually, you wake up from the sound, or from him getting up, and try to cling onto him to get him to stay just a little longer.

He feels like he should be relieved that you’re letting him get up on time for once, but he can’t help checking in on you, pulling the covers down to look at your face. Your hand twitches on the pillow next your face. Your expression… you seem a little ashen, a little sweaty, mouth fixed in a frown. Erik frowns too, brushing his hand over your forehead. Damn, you’re burning up.

You squint and try to squirm away from the cold feeling as he pulls the blankets off entirely, waking you up. He shushes you gently, helping you to sit up and rest with your back against some pillows. He leaves the room to grab some medicine and water for your fever. He holds your chin gently when he comes back, helping you take the pills without spilling the water.

Once he’s satisfied that you’ve had at least a little bit to drink, Erik takes a minute to send an email to all his students that class is canceled for the day. He puts the phone down, and moves to the bathroom to draw a bath for you.

You hiss and scrunch your face up like you’re gonna cry when he helps you into the water. The water is warm to his touch, but freezing to yours.

“Sorry,” he whispers, grabbing some soap to help you wash. His touch is gentle as he helps you stand and lather up, and then sit and rinse.

The water temperature, and the medicine beginning to kick in, help lower your body temperature enough for you to regain a bit of your lucidity and strength. The tightness in Erik’s chest loosens as he sees the clarity returning to your eyes.

He helps you out of the bath, dries you off, and brings you some of his clothes to wear. A t-shirt and sweatpants, nothing too heavy that might make your fever worse. You walk to the living room together, and curl up on the couch while he looks around the kitchen for something you can eat without too much trouble.

You turn the t.v. on and pick one of your comfort shows. You and Erik stay in silence as he brings you food, and sits down next to you. You sit up and lean against his shoulder, food warm in your lap. He grabs his laptop and opens it up.

Your attention stays on your show, though, until you hear him ask softly, “What flavor?”

He’s ordering groceries online… vitamin-c boosting medicine, juice, popsicles. You blink, a little surprised, taking a minute to decide what kind of popsicles to get. The two of you sit in silence as he finishes ordering and you eat what you can.

You start to get sleepy soon after eating, and he lays down with you again. If you try to tell him he’ll get sick too from being so close for so long, he’ll just huff and hold you tighter.

Erik’s conflicted, when he has to get up to bring the groceries inside and tip the delivery person; the way you cling to his arm and plead blearily for him to stay is tooth-rottingly cute, but it probably means the medicine is wearing off and you’ll need the next dose soon…

[parkitaco]

mayhaps... 48 for the byler kiss ask game?

Melvald's is too quiet, Mike thinks, biting his lip as he trails carefully behind Will. Everything is too quiet, these days, but this especially so- there should be the low hum of the refrigerator in the back, the ding of the register, Joyce Byers standing behind the counter ready to greet them. Not that Joyce even works here anymore, but Melvald's was probably as much a part of Mike's childhood as DnD, and Mike's not used to it being so dead.

"Mike," Will huffs from in front of him, casting a warning look over his shoulder as they creep carefully around the shelves, scanning for any sign of danger. "You're thinking too loud."

Mike frowns, stopping as Will peers around a corner, hands clutching desperately at the gun Hopper had given him while keeping it at arm's length from his body, like he's afraid to bring it too close. "Sorry," Mike murmurs, as Will nods the all clear and they continue on to the next aisle, "I feel like- we shouldn't be here."

Will hums noncommittally, scanning the meager selection of nonperishable foods still remaining in the store. "Like, because we might die, or because no one else is here?"

It's meant to be a joke, as evidenced by the upward tilt of Will's mouth as he steals a glance at Mike, but he's too on edge to acknowledge it, every nerve in his body alight as he bites his lip and takes another furtive glance around the store. "Both," he decides, as Will hands him a can of refried beans (blech) and he places it carefully in the bag they've brought.

It's not like he hasn't been to Melvald's since the apocalypse started, but the few times he'd gone had been with large groups, and he'd mostly followed the lead of whichever of the older teens had been doomed to lead the group that day. It had felt a little better, then, when there were the voices of three or four other people ringing through the dead, eerie silence. But the older teens are in planning mode today, and evidently Nancy had deemed him and Will smart enough to not die on a fifteen minute supply run, so here they are, speaking in soft voices and stealing glances at each other.

Besides, Will's been making Mike sort of- nervous, recently. So that compiled with the general stress of impending doom is making Mike's brain go a little haywire.

It's quiet for a moment, the only sounds the gentle clanging of cans of beans crashing into each other as they shove them into Mike's backpack. Will's fingers brush Mike's, his breathing audible from their proximity and the silence of the store, and Mike is all too aware of it- the calluses on Will's palms, the light flush in his cheeks, his lips bitten raw. He's always been hyper-aware of Will, but it's harder to ignore now, when he's quite literally the only person around for miles. In any case, it's a lot more pleasant to focus on Will than to focus on the possibility of demodogs lurking behind every corner.

"You're staring," Will murmurs after a moment, mouth twitching up into a wry little smile as he tosses the last of the cans into Mike's bag and zips it up.

"Sorry," Mike says quickly, flushing and glancing away across the darkened store.

"I didn't say I minded," Will replies, tipping his head to one side and into Mike's field of vision, trying to get his attention. Mike swallows, feeling warm all over as he meets Will's eyes again, and Will sends him an overexaggerated grin.

He's just trying to distract Mike, probably, from the world ending all around them and the constant fear of being attacked without warning. He's been doing things like this a lot, lately - teasing him, bumping their shoulders together, trying to fluster Mike or make him laugh when he's particularly stressed out. Mike's not sure if Will means anything by it or if it's just Will, being a good friend, like always, and Mike reading too much into things. Either way, the- the distracting, it's working a little too well.

"Shut up," he chooses to respond, which is about as eloquent as he's capable of being right now, and Will laughs, leaning back against the shelf. He's still holding the gun, but his grip on it has slackened, his shoulders more relaxed now. Mike wonders if maybe that's what it's about, all the teasing and the smiling and the jokes. Maybe it's more for Will's benefit than Mike's.

Typical of Mike, to assume it's all about him. He's such an idiot. He glances away again, biting his lip, and Will kicks at his shoe, feigning a scowl. "You okay?"

Mike nods, still not looking at him, and he can practically feel the disbelief radiating off of Will. "I- yeah, fine. C'mon, we should get going."

Will sighs. "Mike."

"I'm fine, Will," he insists, glancing back at him with wide, serious eyes, and Will holds up his hands in surrender. The gun is still clutched in one hand, and Mike narrows his eyes at it. "I- okay, don't point that thing at me," he adds, nodding to the gun, and Will winces sheepishly, lowering both hands. "I'm just freaked out, okay? Let's go."

Will's eyes scan his face, lips pursed like he's trying to figure him out, and Mike shifts uncomfortably, feeling oddly scrutinized. Sometimes he thinks that Will knows him too well.

But then he's nodding, holding out his free hand for Mike, and Mike tries his level best not to overthink it as he threads his fingers through Will's. It's just for safety, he reminds himself, as Will squeezes his hand and tugs him gently around the corner. Just so they don't get separated. It doesn't mean anything. Probably. Almost definitely.

"Stop thinking," Will murmurs for a second time, squeezing his hand and pausing at the end of one aisle, and Mike squawks indignantly as Will stops him, a hand against his chest.

"Believe me, I'm trying," he hisses, as Will peers around the corner, hand pressed against Mike's sternum. His palm is warm, heat seeping through the cotton of Mike's t-shirt, and Mike thinks his heart might beat right out of his chest, right into Will's palm.

Wouldn't make a difference, he figures. Will holds his whole heart in his hands anyway.

"Shit," Will mutters, and his grip on Mike tightens, fingers digging into his chest as he presses back against the shelving. "Shit, shit, shit, don't move."

Instantly, the warmth in Mike's chest dissipates, blood running cold as Will all but shoves him against the wall, breathing quick and frantic. "What is it?" he breathes, as Will squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath.

"Okay, don't freak out," he whispers, eyes still shut, and Mike stares at him incredulously.

"What do you mean don't freak out, what-"

"Demodog," Will interrupts, "Aisle three. Hasn't seen us yet."

"Fuck," Mike groans, too loud in the silence, and Will's eyes fly open to glare at him.

"Quiet," he hisses, grip on Mike's hand deathly tight, and Mike's kind of stopped thinking about the implications of the hand-holding and is now mostly just worrying about the bones in his hand breaking into tiny pieces. "I- okay, hang on," he whispers, peeking around the corner again. "It's just sniffing around, I think if we-" he casts a glance over his shoulder, and Mike follows his gaze to the supply closet at the other end of the aisle.

His eyes lock on Will's, and he nods, steeling himself. "Slow and steady, yeah?"

Will nods, setting his jaw in that way he does when he's scared and trying not to be, and Mike squeezes his hand, giving him as reassuring a smile as he can manage. "Yeah."

Mike takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and carefully begins edging along the shelves. Will follows close behind, still clutching the gun in his free hand, and Mike, not for the first time, prays that he won't have to use it.

They reach the supply closet, and Mike's hand closes around the handle. He swallows, glancing at Will, and Will cranes his neck to take another scan of the store. Mike can just barely see the demodog's backside, curled around the corner of one of the aisles, and he resolves to open the door in one fluid motion.

The handle turns with a deafening click, and behind him, Will releases a frightened whimper. Mike clenches his teeth and tugs them both inside sharply, shoving the door closed behind him and pressing his back against it. Will releases his hand, fumbling with the lock, and Mike pauses to stare at him, hysterically amused. "You think a lock is going to stop it?" he murmurs, halfway between a laugh and a sob, and Will shoots him a withering glare.

"Shut up," he mutters, and takes up a position beside Mike, ear pressed to the door and listening for any signs that they've been spotted. There's a soft skittering of paws from the other end of the store, and Mike swallows hard, blood thudding loud in his ears.

Two seconds pass. Then ten. Then thirty.

Will's hand slips back into Mike's.

Mike counts out another ten seconds, listening to the click of the demodog's paws, which mercifully seem to be moving away rather than toward them. Then:

"Hey, uh. Will?"

Three more seconds. Four, five, six-

"Shh, Mike."

-seven, eight, nine-

"Sorry, it's just- um, if we're going to die here, I just wanted to say that-"

"Mike." Will whips his head around to glare at him. "Shut up. And we're not going to die," he adds, a little less certain. Mike scrunches up his nose, disbelieving.

"Right, sure. But if we were, I just- wanted to ask, um- do you really not mind when I look at y-"

"Michael."

Will shifts all at once, reaching up and grabbing Mike by the front of his shirt. He gives it a sharp tug, and their lips meet firmly and fiercely, like Will's not giving himself time to think better of it. Mike stumbles against the door, the hand that's not still clutched in Will's automatically lifting to cradle Will's jaw. Will releases a soft, punched-out sort of breath from somewhere in his ribcage and presses in harder, shoving Mike up against the door and biting softly at his lip before stepping back, hand shoving into Mike's chest before dropping to his side, his breathing ragged around the edges.

"No, Mike, I don't mind," he says flatly, staring at him with a quirked eyebrow and a carefully blank expression. "Now please be quiet, okay?"

Mike's brain has effectively stopped working. He nods dumbly, fighting the urge to raise his fingertips to his lips, just to make sure they're still real. "Uh, right," he says, voice thick, "Quiet. Me. Never speaking ever again. Um-" his eyes drop to Will's hand, which is noticeably empty. "Hey, where's the gun?"

Will glances down, frowning at his empty palm. "Oh. Um. Might have dropped it."

Mike's eyes widen incredulously. "You dropped the gun?"

"A little? Maybe?" Will winces. "Sorry. It's probably on the floor here somewhere."

"Unbelievable," Mike mutters, but he's smiling a little as Will releases his hand and drops to his knees, feeling around on the floor of the closet. He sinks to the ground beside him, biting his lip to hold back a grin and watching in the dim lighting as Will's fingers close around the gun. "I'm that distracting, huh?"

Will rolls his eyes, clicking on the safety on the gun and sitting back on his heels. "Thought I just told you to be quiet," he mumbles, but Mike can see the gentle flush on his cheeks anyway. "I hate using these things," he adds, frowning at the gun in his hands, and Mike nudges him gently with his toe.

"I know," he says softly, and Will smiles gently up at him. "Think it's gone?" he asks, tilting his head toward the door and the demodog that may or may not be lurking beyond.

Will nods slowly. "Yeah, I don't hear anything." He climbs to his feet, stretching out a hand to pull Mike up with him. "Shall we?"

Mike grins, tugging gently at his sleeve. Will visibly presses down a smile, shifting closer, and this time when their lips brush it's more gentle. Will's breath ghosts over Mike's cupids bow, and Mike can feel the smile on his lips when he kisses into it.

Will pulls back, eyes tracing over Mike's face. "Okay?" he asks in a whisper, and Mike can't think of a single scenario in which kissing Will Byers would be anything but very, extremely okay.

"Stop thinking," he tells Will, quirking an eyebrow, and Will rolls his eyes as he drags him out the door.