#mayhap I can try twitch?

[huniidragon]

And what if I began streaming my art again?

[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

'𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 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.'

[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

[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.

[strwberri-milk]

idk if you’d write for alhaitham but in honor of me only loosing six 50/50s in my quest for c6 r5,, can you perhaps write a dom!reader (gn is preferred) that just takes their time pleasuring him? like a lot of praise and overstim and making him stupid :D if you don’t write for him diluc/kaeya is fine

mayhaps you should pay for my alhaitham funds omg congrats though!!! heres my attempt at alhaitham - a little cocky, overconfident, and not willing to submit even to the bitter end :D

Alhaitham is nothing if he isn't self sufficient. He can take care of himself when needed and has done a lot of work to ensure that he can be independent. That's why he's not going to just give you something that you want that easily. No, you're going to have to work for it.

It's not that he doesn't want to submit, it's that he believes nothing good in life is worth it if you don't work for it. He's not going to make it easy for you either.

He's a busy man and expects nothing less than perfection of himself, which makes it nearly impossible sometimes to align your schedules for long enough for any of the things you want to do for him. That doesn't mean it's impossible though.

You've finally got him where you want him, laying back on the bed and looking up at you with equal parts apprehension and excitement. A bit of a smirk sits on his lips, watching as you kneel between his legs and look back up at him.

"What are you trying to do?" he asks with a slight scoff in his voice, figuring out that this is yet another attempt of yours to try and take him off guard.

"Nothing special," you mutter, glad that his pants were already removed. You press kisses against his thigh, smiling to yourself as you feel his muscles stiffen.

"If you're trying to get me to-"

His words cut off when he feels your breath ghosting over him, biting back his words as his cock twitches. He sits up on his arms, about to try again and you give him a strong lick, taking the moan he gives you as the beginnings of your prize.

Sometimes, it seems like he thinks of himself as better than others. Not in the way he speaks, but in the way he carries himself. You don't know if it's just a result of his confidence, or if it's because he really does think he is better (which you doubt considering that he insists on staying in a more humble position with the Akademiya despite how smart he is). It's fun being able to finally reduce someone like that to a mere man succumbing to pleasure, each whimper and moan that slips past his lips more pleasant than the last.

You decided he wasn't going to be the one pleasuring you today, more focused on trailing your heated fingertips down his body and scratching lightly against his skin with your nails. It seemed that the further you managed to take him from his comfort zone the more receptive he was to your touch, bedsheets perpetually clenched in his hand.

His other hand is buried in your scalp, holding tightly as though for dear life as you mouth over his length. Your tongue laves over him, something about this time feeling so much better than it usually does. His mind is hazy, finally beginning to let go for your ministrations to take over any sort of conscious thought he has.

"Feels good, doesn't it sweetheart?" you purr seductively, relishing the lack of thought behind his eyes.

"Fuck," he manages under his breath, letting go of his inhibitions to moan more freely than he's let himself before.

"i know," you coo, going back down to take him entirely into your mouth again.

He definitely didn't expect to keep cumming over and over for you, struggling to remain coherent. It didn't get any better when you introduced your fingers, not expecting to like the feeling of the intrusion so much.

His thighs close up around your head, squeezing you tight and keeping him between them as he cums again in your mouth. His cum was basically nothing at this point, body so overdone that he didn't even know he had another orgasm in him.

He's almost begging for you to stop, the overstimulation burning in the best way to his body as his back arches into your touch. You don't stop, eyes dark with pleasure and he's sure you've somehow managed to cum untouched thanks to your efforts on his body.

Maybe he'll take his revenge on you some other time, you know, when he has higher thought again.

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

A short bottom Auron fic mayhaps? Spicy ofc >:3c

A short bottom Auron fic mayhaps? Spicy ofc >:3c

Bend over.

Auron felt himself get closer to his climax as Rook thrusted into him. Currently he was being bend over into a face down ass up position on the bed. Moaning as soft hands roamed his body with intent to make him feel good.

"Auron? Love, what's your color?" Softly whispering Rook leaned down to his ear and kissed it. Shivering Auron panted trying to gain his composer, getting fucked by your lover kinda makes it hard to answer them.

"G...Green. You...You can go hard-AH!" A sharp thrust cut him off and pleasure went up his spine. Clutching the sheet the red head cursed as Rook continued to hit a good spot. Slowly going up to his hands Auron sent a glare back to them, but the sight of them made him look away.

Rook was panting, gently holding Auron's hip and looking at him like he was the only person in the world. That look went straight to his groin as he felt it twitch, but it seemed Rook caught the reaction.

"Here, want a helping hand?" Joking Rook's free hand snaked down and started slowly pumping Auron. Causing him to moan loudly again and bucked into their hand trying to make them go faster. They did, but only for their thrusting.

"M..Move your hand faster...please..." Whispering the last part he felt himself get more red. Rook looked down and smiled, then leaned to his shoulder looking at his face.

"What was that? What does my good boy want hhmm?" Humming out they slowed the pumping and thrusting down. Auron felt desperateness raise in him as the climax was going away. So with a steady voice, as much as he could, asked them again.

"Please stroke my cock faster!" Closing his eyes he didn't want to see their reaction. Rook got a sharp smirk and started pumping faster, Auron keened forward. Curling into himself as he felt himself get closer to his high.

"yes! yes yes yes...Fuck me too?" Feeling his mind going blank from the pleasure. Rook chuckled at his words, but he really was being a good boy for them.

"Anything you want. My good boy." Auron was pushed forward a bit from the thrust Rook started with. His moans got louder as his pleasure got more extreme, the pumping of his cock and into his ass was so good.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-" Letting his face fall into the pillow he felt a bit embarrassed by the noises he was making. But Rook reached forward and held his head up.

"Come on, I love the noises your making. Tells me I'm doing a good job." Talking into his ear made Auron shiver. Fuck, they are really going to mess him up. Moaning got more erratic as he finally climaxed, it was really strong. Pumping himself in their hands he also pushed back hard to feel them go deeper into him.

Some tears fell, not from anything hurting just, he gave up being in control. He kinda liked it, feeling like jelly he slumped on the bed. Rook slowly got out of him and kissed his head, grabbing a hair tie and putting his hair up.

"I'm gonna clean you okay? I'll be right back. Just rest a bit I'll wake you when I'm done so we can take a bath." Softly telling him Rook gave him more kisses before leaving to get the cleaning tools. Closing his eyes, Auron felt glad he did it with them and how they love taking care of him.

[wrightingdungeon]

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.”

[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.

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[walkinginland]

when my time comes around

five times Jamie Fraser nearly dies, and one time he does canon-compliant 5+1 for Outlander part of my hozier song fics series; this one's based around "Work Song" aka the most JamieClaire song ever written.

one

Boys workin' on empty

Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?

Jamie Fraser is almost twenty years old the first time he truly comes near to death. Now, there had been no shortage of foolish boyhood accidents, and the illness that took his brother from him had not left him unscathed. But he is almost twenty years old, barely more than a child, the first time that he stares into that darkness, and feels it staring back.

The last few days have been a blur interspersed with sharp moments of startling, scarring clarity. Anger and shame and hurt and fear. He can’t comprehend how he had gone from pitching hay in Lallybroch’s fields to laying in a prison cell with his back flayed open and a burning infection creeping up his spine and into his limbs.

The fort physician has been kind, at least. Had let him cry, had set his hand gently on his shoulder, and done what little he could for Jamie’s shredded back. He had offered water and a bit of bread, said that it was important for him to keep his strength up. Jamie had taken some water, shook his head at the bread. He can’t imagine holding anything in his stomach when his whole body feels so hollow, carved out as cleanly as a hunted animal.

The physician’s best hadn’t been enough to prevent infection or erase the memory of the last time he saw his sister’s face, but it was something. He had handed him a worn out book, a worn-thin Bible with the smudged ink of fear-dampened hands.

“Here you are, lad. This belonged to another prisoner, but I reckon he knows the truth of it now better than any of us here do. Mayhap it’ll bring you some comfort.”

Jamie lays on his stomach on a creaking cot in a prison cell, trying to calm his spinning mind any way he can. He blinks at the tiny print of the Bible from an awkward angle, head tilted to the side and book resting on the edge of the cot, and tries to turn a page without pulling the muscles in his back. He had had no idea that the tips of his fingers were connected to the back of his shoulder in such an intimate way, but he is learning it now with every twitch in his hand.

He's not sure he is actually reading any of the words in front of him, couldn’t tell you which book or passage he has open before him. He could do without the chastisement of Saint Paul. Perhaps one of the Prophets, calling out doom and hope in the same breath. It feels fitting, somehow.

He steers far away from the whipping of Christ. Some things feel far different from a prison cell than they do in the pews in kirk of a Sunday.

His fingertips feel numb and the words in front of him blur, from tears or exhaustion or just the poor typeset and smeared lettering, he can’t tell.

The fingerprints and tear tracks that lived on these pages long before he opened them won’t judge him for the drops that find their way out of the corners of his eyes.

keep reading on ao3

[silvfyre-writings]

Misfortune and Misery Pt. 2 (BSD Fanfic)

Crossposted from AO3

It’s been two months since that day.

Two months of misery. Of pain.

Of Ranpo wishing for death.

Yet I can’t let him go, not yet.

Because I don’t want to be alone.

—Yosano Akiko

Yosano put down the pen, and closed the journal she’d been scribbling in, tears pricking her eyes after scrawling that last line down. She was a coward, a selfish coward—what kind of person was she to drag out her friend’s suffering just because she didn’t want to be alone? A terrible one, that’s what. Yet despite her selfishness, Ranpo never blamed her whenever she hacked off one of his limbs to halt the delay the infection, whenever she bathed him in antiseptic solution that irritated her to tears and made him cry out in pain. Never.

But he should have.

She looked over towards her friend, thankfully asleep, rugged up in so may blankets that most would overheat under. But the infection had taken Ranpo’s ability to stay warm, and those blankets were often what kept him from death’s door. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone else was using them, so what did it matter if she used them instead? And even underneath all those blankets, Ranpo shivered, face pale, and cheeks hollow as the infection ravaged him, trying to claim his life—nearly succeeding many times over.

And if Yosano had been a kinder person, mayhap she would’ve let Ranpo go, let him die and join the rest that had already perished.

But she wasn’t.

Yosano stood from her chair and crossed the room, crouching before her friend in order to do the hourly check of his vitals. It was necessary, she’d discovered, able to track the rate of infection through Ranpo’s vital signs when the wounds it gave weren’t severe enough to tell her. That was the reason why she’d struggled so much with the infection in the first place, why everyone had been different. She’d been so flustered in trying to cure it, that she’d failed to take the necessary steps to actually learn more about the infection. If she’d just taken her time, she would’ve noticed that despite the differences in wounds, everyone’s vital signs had taken the same path.

Declining. Shooting up. Stabilising. And then dropping off entirely.

It was such a simple infection really, and Yosano hated that it was.

But mostly, she hated that it still had no cure.

Two months, and still, doctors all around Yokohama—all around the world—hadn’t been able to come up with a cure. Still, the infection remained isolated to Yokohama, and nearly all the citizens within were infected or dead, with just a handful remaining healthy. But unlike the countless movies that depicted apocalyptic situations like this with no power, there was still power and running water, which meant that Yosano could leave the television on to listen in on the state of the city. It wasn’t the best idea, really, not when the news was just a constant negative, but it was better than silence.

It was better than Ranpo’s rattling breaths.

“Yosano…” Ranpo’s voice dragged her back to the present, and she forced a smile onto her face when Ranpo’s eyes blinked open.

The smile didn’t last long when she saw how cloudy his gaze was, the normally electric green nothing more than murky swamp water now. Just another thing the infection was taking from him. Perhaps it was better that Ranpo go blind though; at least he wouldn’t be able to see what was happening to him. Yosano let out a soothing noise to indicate she was there and that she’d heard him, lifting a hand to run it through Ranpo’s hair. “Do you need something, Ranpo?”

“Thirsty…” Ranpo croaked. He blinked. And blinked again. Then he frowned. “I can’t see much today.”

“Well, it’s not like much has changed since you last woke up.” Yosano joked as she went to go get Ranpo a glass of water. “Perhaps I’ll find some paint, and we can paint the rooms bright pink or something.”

“Bright pink?” Ranpo snorted, lips twitching despite the cracks in his skin that threatened to split open whenever he so much as smiled just a little too wide. A quiet laugh escaped him. “Why are you going… with bright pink of all colours?”

“Because it’s highly visible. And you also really like pink.”

“I don’t like it that much.”

Yosano levelled Ranpo with a look from her position by the sink. “Most of your closet has some form of pink in it. Aside your detective garb that is.”

Ranpo opened his mouth, no doubt to try and dispute her claims, but instead he broke out into a series of coughs. They were wet, and harsh, and it didn’t take long for blood to start spilling over his lips. The moment the blood appeared, Yosano rushed over with the water in hand, using her free one to drag the blankets away from Ranpo as he tried and failed to kick them away himself. And just in time too, because the moment the blankets were gone, Ranpo hunched over and vomited up a massive amount of blood.

Shit. Yosano put the water down to free her hands, and knelt beside Ranpo. “I need you to lie down Ranpo. Recovery position. I need to see where the wound is.”

Ranpo nodded, and shakily shifted onto his side, his head tilted towards the ground where the blood could run freely while she worked.

Because vomiting blood meant internal damage, which meant she needed to heal Ranpo before it could kill him, and quick.

It didn’t take long for her to locate the wound—it wasn’t like a giant gaping hole in one’s stomach was the smallest of wounds after all—and she pressed her gloved hands to it. Gloved, always gloved, because she couldn’t risk getting infected herself, not when Ranpo needed her still. And then she waited as blood flowed past her fingers.

After Fukuzawa had died, Yosano had gone over what could have possibly gone wrong. It hadn’t made sense the way she’d healed the elder’s wounds, only for them to return a week later even worse than before. It was something that had been exclusive to Fukuzawa, as he was the only one she’d ever used her ability on, and no one else’s wounds had ever become as bad as his had. Not even Atsushi, who’d clung to life the longest out of all of them, had had wounds as bad as Fukuzawa’s. It was perplexing. Strange. Different. And she couldn’t quite place why.

Had it been her ability? Did it react to the infection? Or was it something else.

It wasn’t until she compared notes that she came to the conclusion that it wasn’t because of her ability, it was how she’d used it. Letting the infection take too much of a hold before healing meant that it would return with a vengeance—resulting in a situation like Fukuzawa’s. But in the case of Atsushi… his ability had healed the wounds has they appeared—at least, until his body could no longer handle the strain and had given out, taking his life with him.

But it was thanks to Fukuzawa and Atsushi, that she’d been able to keep Ranpo alive for so long.

Not healthy… but alive.

Ranpo coughed, dragging Yosano’s attention back to him, and a second later, another mouthful of blood smattered the floor. Now! Butterflies filled the room, and Yosano felt Ranpo’s skin stitch itself back together until it was like the wound had never been there. Immediately, some colour returned to Ranpo’s face, albeit he still looked to be on death’s door. That was something that would remain until she could cure the infection in its entirety. But for now, she pushed that thought aside, not wanting to focus on a far away future when she needed to be focused on the present where the last person she cared about was fighting to stay alive.

Yosano ran a hand up and down Ranpo’s arm, soothing him as he coughed and sucked in air, shivering, eyes squeezed shut in pain. She’d run out of painkillers a week ago, and Ranpo’s condition had deteriorated so much, that she didn’t dare leave him to go out and try to find some. It was awful to watch her friend writhe about in pain, where the most she could do was try and comfort him, whispering empty promises about how she’d fix it all soon, and he’d be up and about in no time.

“Just breathe.” She murmured, stretching out across the floor to hold Ranpo from behind, her face pressed against his back where she could hear his heartbeat—arrhythmic, but still strong—and closed her eyes. “Just breath, Ranpo…”

When Yosano woke, it was morning, and she tiredly blinked for a few seconds before her consciousness kicked online and she jerked upright. She’d slept all night. “Ranpo—”

She stopped before she finished speaking, letting out all her panic in one, relieved breath. Ranpo was still alive. Curled up against her side, resting for once, and she didn’t dare move after her rude-ish awakening, scared that she would wake Ranpo from the sleep that he very much needed. It wasn’t often that he slept, between the pain and the wounds, and usually, it was only because he physically passed out that he ever got any rest.

And when he showed no signs of waking, Yosano relaxed, and decided to use the opportunity to check on Ranpo’s wounds.

If you had asked her whether she’d ever seen another person wrapped in as many bandages as Dazai had been, she would’ve rolled her eyes and said no, because Dazai was Dazai, and wore so many bandages, that she was almost certain he was responsible for the shortage that had happened a couple of years before he’d joined the Agency. But now? Now she’d say yes, because Ranpo was wrapped neck to toe in them, and all of them were stained in blood.

Yosano was grateful that Dazai had been a bandage hoarder, since it meant that she had an overabundance of bandages. She reached for Ranpo’s right arm first, slowly unwinding the bandages and taking care not to jostle the limb too much. The last time she’d checked this arm, the wounds hadn’t been too bad, and the lack of fresh blood told her that they hadn’t gotten any worse. But they could still do with a clean, and a fresh dressing.

She cleaned, and wrapped, and cleaned and wrapped, managing to deal with Ranpo’s legs—they were worse than his arm, the flesh starting to detach from his shins, but still wasn’t the worst.

All that remained now was Ranpo’s left arm.

So of course, that was when Ranpo woke up, letting out a cry of pain that wrenched out her heart, along with her hopes that she’d be able to clean the last limb without causing her friend even more pain.

She sighed. “Ranpo, I need to check your arm.”

It took several seconds for Ranpo to respond. His eyes blinked open, clearer this time, and he nodded, accepting the help that Yosano offered to get him sitting upright. And before she could ask, he offered his arm out to her.

He was calm. Too calm.

“Thank you.” She said, and began to unravel the bandages, where it soon became apparent why Ranpo was calm. Her grip on his wrist tightened a little as she stared, tiredly, at the limb that was nothing more than bone, a few scraps of flesh stubbornly clinging on. “Ranpo…”

“I’m tired, okay?” Ranpo said, allowing himself to fall back against the wall, turning his head away from her. “I’m tired. I don’t know if I can keep going on like this, Akiko—” he never calls me Akiko “—it hurts, it hurts so much, I can’t take it anymore—”

“Ranpo, please—” Yosano tried to interrupt, only for Ranpo to continue talking over her like she hadn’t even said anything.

“—every day, I feel my skin and my muscles slipping off my bones. Every day, I mourn over not being able to save everyone else, how I’m not strong enough to stand by you… but leaving you alone after losing everyone? I can’t do that…”

Tears pricked Yosano’s eyes, and she grabbed Ranpo’s hand with both of hers, holding it up to her forehead. She could feel his eyes on her. “You’re plenty strong, Ranpo, stronger than I ever could be. I’m just sorry that I can’t cure you. I don’t want you to die, but I don’t know when this will end…”

She felt a hand come to rest on the top of her head. “You did what you could Yosano, but perhaps this is the end for us.” She’d never heard Ranpo sound so defeated before, not even when the entire world had been against them. A few tears slipped down her cheeks. “Most of Yokohama is dead, or soon will be. Focus on keeping yourself alive for after we’re all gone.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

Ranpo huffed, the sound causing Yosano to drag her head up, and saw his smile. It was sad, but accepting… accepting of the fate that awaited him. “You might just have to let me go.”

Yosano didn’t say anything—what could she say in the first place? She didn’t want Ranpo to suffer, but she also didn’t want to just give up, not when a cure could possibly come about tomorrow.

But…

Would they even get the cure? Would the people who inevitably discovered the cure come out and look for survivors? Or would they be expected to travel to where the cure was? She knew that there were people searching for one, both inside and outside of Yokohama, but so far, no one had succeeded. That was what the news said the last time she’d watched it at least. Which had been a week ago because she was spending all of her energy trying to keep Ranpo alive.

An idea formed in her mind, one where she took Ranpo and went out searching. What did she have to lose from doing so? Everyone was dead, and Ranpo would soon join them if she didn’t do something about it, and fast. At least, out there, she’d be able to scavenge for supplies—food, painkillers, first aid kits—and she wouldn’t have to worry about Ranpo because he’d be with her the entire time. Hopefully. She still needed to ask him to fight just that little more.

Determined, she turned back to face him. “I refuse to let you go so easily, Ranpo. You’ve fought this long, this hard, against an infection with no cure. So please, fight a little longer. Stay alive a little longer. I will find a cure for you.”

Ranpo stared at her, silent, for several minutes. It made her shift uncomfortably, feeling like she’d said something wrong.

After a while, he sighed, and dropped his head, and the look on his face filled Yosano with so much guilt. “Okay… I’ll try.”

She truly was a selfish person.

Yokohama was nothing but a ghost town now, with nothing but corpses and blood spread across the roads. The smell was truly awful, even through the mask that Yosano had slapped onto her face before even daring to leave the building, and that was just the stench of death. There was still the smell of the city on top of it all; garbage that hadn’t been collected since the beginning of the epidemic, the smog in the air that made it hard to breathe. Gone was the city that she could once call her home, and she wasn’t sure that it would ever return to its former state.

“Where are we going?” Ranpo murmured against her neck, a deadweight on her back.

“To a hospital.” Yosano answered. “They should have supplies, and we desperately need those. And they’ll have beds hopefully, so you’ll be able to get some proper rest, finally.”

Ranpo hummed, and tightened his grip around her neck, slipping into unconsciousness.

The sudden silence was expected at this point, and she tried not to let it get to her, instead focusing on the fact that Ranpo was with her in the first place. Sure, he could barely get his legs to move, and could barely keep himself secured on her back, but he was there, and she would be able to get him help. Hopefully. Not that she had much hope to begin with.

It was hard to keep walking; she was tired, and carrying Ranpo didn’t make it any easier. Really, she wasn’t sure what it was that kept her going. It would be so easy to just give up and give in to the hand that life had dealt her, but for some reason she just kept on swimming, even though it was nothing but a tar pit that she was trying to swim in. Maybe it was her time in the war? Saving the lives of the soldiers she’d been assigned to over and over again—even as they’d begun to loathe her existence—had to have left her with this level of stubbornness.

Or maybe it was her desire not to be alone that kept her going.

Who knew.

Yosano wasn’t sure how long she walked for, wasn’t even sure she was going in the right direction as she hadn’t seen any familiar streets. Or maybe she had, and she just wasn’t paying attention. That also was a possibility, and in that case, she needed to focus.

She stopped, and took a deep breathe, before she threw her gaze to the sky, and found herself staring at the Port Mafia headquarters. A thought struck her.

Mori and Kajii… both of them are doctors…

And as much as she didn’t particularly want to engage with either man—if they were still alive in the first place—she had to admit that the Port Mafia would have the same supplies, if not better, than the hospital, no thanks to Mori’s underground dealings. She knew that if Fukuzawa were alive—if anyone from the Agency were alive, really, that they would tell her not to turn to the Port Mafia for assistance. They would tell her that Mori would demand her help in return, that he would refuse to help because he would gain nothing from doing something good, and what was the point in doing that?

But they weren’t here… not anymore.

It was just her and Ranpo, and she needed to make a decision that would help them both.

A decision that was quickly made for her by Ranpo, her friend breaking out into a coughing fit so bad, she could feel blood seeping through her clothes. She shuddered, fighting against the urge to get away from the blood. Instead, she tightened her grip on Ranpo’s legs, turned on her heal, and began to make her way towards the skulking skyscrapers in the distance, praying that the wasn’t making the wrong decision.

She’d already been wrong so many times already.

She can’t be again.

Yosano was halfway to the Port Mafia headquarters when she ran into another human being, and she stopped dead in her tracks, unsure of who it was and what their motives might be. Hell, they might even be infected, which would only cause Ranpo’s condition to deteriorate, and possibly infect her at the same time. The figure in the distance seemed to spot her as well, also stopping, before they turned towards her and began to walk, slowly. Yet for each step they took, she took one back, and once again, they were both stopping.

The figure began to make their way towards her again, only this time, their hands are raised, and Yosano makes the decision to stay still and see what they want. Only, as the figure drew closer, did she recognise them.

Nakahara Chuuya.

Dressed in the most casual outfit she’d ever seen the man wear, Yosano was surprised to see him wondering the streets without any kind of protection. No gloves, no mask, just his jeans, and collared shirt. And that hat of his.

He really did love that hat.

“What do you want?” Yosano called once Nakahara was close enough to hear her.

“Thought I recognised you.” Came the response. Nakahara stepped closer until he was just a couple of metre’s away, and she watched his eyes rove over herself first, and then Ranpo next. A sympathetic look crossed his face. “Seems like you’ve been dealing with it too. Is there more of your precious Agency?”

Yosano shook her head. “We’re all that’s left.”

A pained look crossed Nakahara’s face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced with cold indifference. “Dazai?”

“He was the first to go.”

“Well, the shithead finally got the death that he always wanted, I guess.” Nakahara said, and then inclined his head towards Ranpo. “What’s his condition?”

“Alive.” Was all Yosano offered, and she was grateful when Nakahara didn’t ask her to elaborate. But then again, it wasn’t like it wasn’t hard to see what Ranpo’s condition was, all you had to do was literally look at him. “What about the Port Mafia?”

Nakahara narrowed his eyes, seeming to contemplate whether or not he should actually answer her before he sighed and shrugged. “Decimated. Akutagawa and Kyuusaku caught it pretty quick, and did a good job spreading it around.”

“Who’s left?”

“The Boss, Kajii, myself, and Gin. We lost everyone pretty early on.”

“I’m amazed they haven’t lost you yet, considering you’re wandering around like you are.” Yosano said.

Nakahara shrugged, an unreadable look on his face. “I’m immune to the infection.”

The news that Nakahara was immune was surprising, but interesting, and she made sure to take note just in case it would come in handy later.

For now though, Yosano nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she mulled over her next words. Right now there were two sides of her; the one that wanted nothing to do with the Port Mafia, namely, the boss that was the reason she’d been locked away for years as a child, not wanting to become indebted to them, nor offer them aid when there was a high chance that they would abuse it. The other part of her saw the logic in teaming up with the Port Mafia; as cruel and manipulative as he was, Mori was still a doctor, one that had made a name for himself long before becoming the head of the Port Mafia, and Yosano was clinging to that one thread of hope that wasn’t being a manipulative bastard right now.

“If you have medicine, I can offer information on the infection.” Yosano offered. “All I ask for is care for Ranpo.”

Nakahara stared at her; eyes narrowed in caution despite the curiosity that swam within them. It was that curiosity that won out. “And what makes you think you have any information that we don’t already know?”

“Because my ability works on the infection. Ranpo’s been infected for nearly three months now. Are you telling me you’ve done better?”

“No…” Nakahara scowled, bringing a hand to his mouth, thinking hard. “No, we haven’t.

“Then take my offer. Or I’ll take it to the hospital instead. I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to help.”

The silence that followed stretched on for several minutes before Nakahara chuckled, throwing her a grin. “You’re quite the stubborn one, Miss Doctor, but alright. Can’t guarantee the Boss will say yes, but I’ll take you there anyway.”

Yosano let out a breath as Nakahara turned on his heel and began to lead the way. Conflicted still, about aiding the Port Mafia and accepting their help in return, she trudged along behind the redhead, contemplating over whether or not she was doing the right thing. Ranpo coughed beside her ear; wet and thick, the infection no doubt beginning to settle within his lungs again. She would have to heal him again soon. Nakahara’s eyes flicked over his shoulder towards Ranpo, a grimace on his face now that Yosano countered by straightening up.

Ranpo might’ve been on death’s door, but no way was she going to let the Executive in front of her think they were weak. Because they weren’t.

They’d just been unlucky.

The moment that Nakahara brought her to Mori, Yosano considered just turning around and walking back out of the building when the man laid his eyes on her. It’d been years since they’d last seen each other, yet she’d recognise his slimy figure anywhere, and where she would’ve felt fear towards him like she had years ago, she only felt anger now, at what he and his precious Mafia had done to the one’s she dared to call her family.

“Yosano, what a surprise. I thought you and your previous Agency must’ve died considering we haven’t heard from you all in months.” Mori’s sickly-sweet voice threatened to drag all sorts of unpleasant memories from Yosano’s past back to the present, but she forced them down to smile at her biggest tormentor. She wasn’t fifteen-years-old anymore, this man had no power over her.

“Yes, well, an epidemic makes it hard to stay in contact, Mori, as I’m sure you are aware, considering the losses you have suffered.”

Mori’s eye twitched, but the smile never left his face. “Losses indeed, far too many for my taste, but tell me, Yosano, how your journey with this infection has fared?”

Yosano adjusted her grip on Ranpo. Nakahara had offered to carry her friend to the Port Mafia headquarters, but she’d refused, not willing to let Ranpo out of her hands for even a second. She was responsible for him now, and refused to risk allowing anything to happen to him. Mori was looking over the detective now, with an expression she couldn’t quite figure out. “Dazai was the first to die.” A slight raise of an eyebrow. “Fukuzawa died just over two months ago.”

And there it was.

The slightest hint of despair at knowing his biggest rival, his oldest confidant, had perished. Mori never held anyone close, always suspecting betrayal at every corner—it was his biggest fault as well as his greatest strength—but he’d always placed a level of trust in Fukuzawa, despite the way their relationship had fractured and fallen apart over the fight for Yosano all those years ago. It showed that there was still some humanity to the man, some tiny shred of kindness, which Yosano was hoping to use to her advantage. If she played her cards right.

“I have information.” She said, not giving Mori time to think, to grieve. “But I want something in return.”

“And what could you possibly need when you have nothing left?” Mori questioned.

She took a breath, and steeled herself. This was where she had to stand her ground. “I want painkillers for Ranpo.”

“Fukuzawa’s prodigy is on death’s door already; painkillers will do nothing for him.”

“It’s just until I can find a cure.” Yosano said. “I intend to find one.”

“Oh?” Mori’s eyes flashes with interest and he stepped forward to walk around her, studying her and Ranpo like they were animals in a cage for him to admire. She wanted to reach out and smack him away, but fought against the idea—it wouldn’t do her any good to antagonise the man that could very much be the reason why Ranpo lived longer.

Mori stopped circling, and clasped his hands behind his back, bowing until he was eye level with her. “And what makes you think you’ll be able to cure it?”

“Because I’ve kept Ranpo alive for two months. I will find a cure, Mori. I’m not letting Ranpo die to this infection.”

Mori stared at her for a moment before smiling. “You always were a stubborn one. Alright then, I’ll accept your terms. What’s mine is now yours.”

And what’s yours is now mine, went unsaid, but Yosano knew that it didn’t have to be. It was just easy to see through the other doctor.