#nor Crystal tears

[glorytoad]

[cantsayidont]

1987. GURPS roleplaying game supplement based on a series of Alan Dean Foster novels about an ultimately symbiotic alliance between humans and an insectoid species called Thranx. This cover painting was done by Michael Whelan for the 1982 Del Rey edition of Foster's novel NOR CRYSTAL TEARS, which describes first contact between human and Thranx from the perspective of a Thranx called Ryo (Ryozenzuzex).

[bensect]

my bestfriend ryo

[ollydee]

um so I'm stoked

$4 of store credit at my local book co-op

I won

[tojisun]

i want simon to love you so strongly, he doesn't even know what exactly it is he's feeling.

it is so intense, he cannot even sleep nor eat nor sit in silence anymore. you plague his thoughts day in and day out, filling every second of his day with this vitriolic turmoil.

the first time he realized it was not a passing feeling, simon felt the desire to...lash out, somehow. to get angry. to come to you and snarl questions—what have you done to me?—because he knows that this wouldn't have happened if he never met you. if your paths just never crossed.

if simon was just never interested.

he should have known, then, that his fleeting interest would turn into something bigger than he is, twisting into something that he cannot manage because simon has always been quick to get addicted to many things—ferocious in his hunger, gums twitching with need.

simon still does not know how to take everything in moderation so he’s turned to snuffing out his desires; to containing them until they sit there, buried underneath his ribs and flesh.

but this one with you cannot be buried. it cannot be ignored. it grows every single day, swelling with fangs and tearing into his veins—he bleeds for you, every morning that he climbs from the depths of his raging restlessness—until he is left feeling lost. untethered.

so tell him: what have you done to him?

(the words do not even get to fully leave his mouth, not with his emotions bubbling into strings that pull at him.

next thing he knows is that he has pushed you against the wall, and claimed your lips in a feverish kiss.

simon devours the sounds you make—every hiccupped breath, every gasped out mewl, every stutter of his name. he devours it all because it is all he can gulp from you for now; the sweetness of your passion weaves with his own, and he is dizzy with his affections.

you don't tell him to stop, instead, you beg him for more; crystals of your tears cling to your lashes, and simon is in awe of how much softer you are compared to him. how tender you truly are, all putty in his arms, sniffling with your uncontainable pleasure. with your own raging feelings.

simon feels seen, like this with you. he feels understood.)

[moonlight-prose]

SWEETNESS OF THE DAMNED

a/n: this was a quick drabble at first, but somehow turned into an allegory for persophone and hades. which isn’t surprising for me given that i’m already plotting october fics. logan isn’t a monster in this, nor is he a vampire even though the vibe and title may give that off. i just really love gothic vibes in everything i write so who better to give it to than old man logan.

summary: when night falls and wine overflows in glasses of crystal, logan finds his home in between your thighs.

word count: 1.2k+

pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, p in v sex, alcohol consumption, allegories for persephone and hades, biting, scratching even though he heals, cumplay, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, older logan is so filthy i’m blushing.

The acrid embers of the fire burned your nose the deeper your breaths became. Red wine remained chocolatey and bitter on your tongue; the dinner you tried to eat quickly was now forgotten in favor of something else. You thought you could smell the cigar he smoked on the porch an hour ago on his bare skin. You couldn't.

Not when his fingers dug into your hips, lips pressed against the shell of your ear. He grunted with each slap of skin. The wet slick of how he pounded into you echoed loud and bright in the cabin.

You would have been embarrassed if it weren't for the sounds he let out. The way his eyes fell shut the closer you got to that fiery peak.

"C'mon baby," he sighed, ragged and needy. "I can feel ya."

Wine had gone to your head the second he poured you a third glass. Your red dress of crushed velvet lay in a heap on the floor. A pair of his jeans and a shirt beside it. The soft fabric of his flannel was smooth beneath your knees where he dropped it. Careful to keep your skin from going raw as he took you before dinner could even finish.

The alcohol is what brought this night to an early conclusion.

You already knew it would happen. Hoped for it on long days with hours that stretched for miles. Ached for his presence when you curled up in bed—the scent of his body still stuck on the cotton sheets. Logan promised to give you everything with a soft kiss at the door, his fingers gripping your chin to hold you there a minute longer. To slip his tongue past your maroon painted lips and lick along your teeth.

"'S too much," you garbled.

He laughed as you clenched around his leaking cock—tearing a deep moan from his chest. The heat of his body burned its way into yours where the fireplace couldn't reach. Each muscle and ridge along his stomach pressed into your back—his hips strong enough to break you slowed into punishing thrusts that bounced you on his thighs.

Time didn't exist; seasons began to blend into one.

The both of you resided where spring met summer and the shadow of night met fall's full moon. You wore a crown of wilted flowers—red spilling over your hands from where he asked you to bite into his skin. This was your damned hour. Your time of need.

You were the other half of an already broken soul, and he found that in your absence he couldn't hold it together for quite as long.

"You feel that?" His hand cupped your cunt—fingers spread around where he ended and you began. "She's leakin' for me baby."

"L-Logan," you gasped your throat thick with too many emotions.

The slow grind of his hips into yours sent your body hurtling towards yet another release. Your stomach was sticky where his other hand pressed - already coated in the three before. Holding onto the fraying pieces of your mind proved to be difficult when his teeth latched onto your shoulder. His fingers drew a shape around the edge of your throbbing clit.

His initials.

"You want another one don't ya honey?"

Yes. No. Please never fucking stop.

Instead all you could get out was a whine of his name. Your back arched into his hold, head pressed hard against his chest, as you fought to keep up with him. To grind against his lap and feel the drag of his cock along your walls.

"Yeah. You do," he murmured against your ear. "She wants to be good for me."

Down in the base of your stomach you felt the familiar pull of bliss begin to draw tight. You knew what came next. The rush of mind numbing pleasure trickled into your veins. Slowly drawing you higher with each stunted thrust—each echo of his fingers toying with your stretched cunt. You could count the seconds until it finally burst.

"I'm gonna–" The breath caught in your throat, hands clasping around his wrists as something shifted. "F-Fuck. Logan I'm–"

"Fuck yeah ya are," he grunted into your neck. "Gonna lick you clean after this. Get my fuckin' dessert."

His cock pounded deep against your walls, fingers pulling up the hood of your clit to circle rapidly against nerves that were already shot. And you sobbed his name. Your nails drew red angry marks on his arms that healed moments later; your body too fucking rigid and too hot to process what the fuck he was doing.

Elysium and the River Styx were ripping you apart. As if you were being pulled in two very different directions.

A clatter echoed beside you when he reached for your glass of wine, still stained with the now faded red of your lipstick. You felt his thigh shake—his cock twitching in the heat of your body. You wondered if this is what it felt like to burn alive. The sweet aching bliss of being held by your lover as he drowned you in the fire. Would this be how he took you to the Underworld?

The cold wash of wine spilled along your body as he poured out the remainder of the glass. His tongue quickly dragged across your blistering skin—drinking the cabernet off your body with a raspy groan of your name.

"'M almost there." He gripped the back of your neck and yanked you back with a kiss. His tongue plunging into your mouth—sharing the wine as his fingers pressed hard and fast against your swollen bud. "Give it to me huh? Fuckin' cum on my cock."

Your release ripped through your body with a scream. The echo of his name came back to you eventually, yet you couldn't figure out if you were the one saying it. With your nails piercing his skin, he felt you gush, choking his cock and milking him dry. A splatter of something wet landed on his thighs as he wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you still.

To bury himself as deep as he could go and finish with a blissful ragged groan against your shoulder. Wave after wave of ecstasy washed over your spent body and you felt him fill you until it began to leak out. Coating the inside of your thighs.

"Are you breathing?" he chuckled, lips sliding along your neck to find your mouth.

You answered with a whimper. Which proved enough for him.

The stickiness of the wine began to dry against your bare body while his fingers dragged through the mixture of your cum that stuck to your thigh. He sighed—content and warm—as he lowered himself to the floor. His back pressed against your clothes and softening cock still buried in your dripping cunt.

"Speak to me bub." His fingers tapped your cheek, nose nudging against your jaw. "I can't have killed ya."

"You almost did," you mumbled, barely able to open your eyes.

Exhaustion sunk right down to your bones the longer you lay there wrapped in his arms. You knew the both of you should shower. Clean up and actually eat something in its entirety this time around. Logan would say the same if it weren't for the comforting press of your weight against his body. He cupped your breasts, thumbs toying with your peaked nipples, and kissed you with a sigh.

The both of you should say something to get the other moving. Yet neither of you did.

Instead you were met with silence and the crackle of the fire. Time, now a nonexistent variable to a night spent in each other's arms.

[emacrow]

Danny has an aggressive secret admirer and that Admirer is Damian wayne. If Damian has succeeded with his plan of kidnapping danny after carefully researching.

Danny woke up a bit refreshed after what he felt like was a 3 hour power nap after eating the most delicious burger he was given gift wrapped up in a present box found in his locker after school..

Only to noticed fenton designed looking a like of handcuffs on his hands, feets as he lays in a cushion like bed with certain red and blue duck candles lit with green fire.

A hand written runes of ancient writing on the galaxies like blanket he was laying on. Blue weeping flowers petals on the floor surrounding the bed.

Now this was interesting... before he noticed the person behind this all, Danny's eyes were glowing, looking at Damian. The liminal classmate who shyly glances at him every now and then when he thought he didn't noticed.

He did his research right as he can see Damian was not even trembling nor falling on his knees under the weight of Danny's core pressuring in this room before offering Danny something that he did most value to his very soul.

It wasn't his blood, nor hair, or a weapon.

For ghosts have no uses for those things but what they desire most of all even after death.

It was a necklace, beautifully made and designed to look like scattered or stars but what they were made with crystallized emotional tears of pure even a bit unhinged love.

Damian's face look red.. his eyes were a definitely puffy and reddish underneath with the amount of tears he has cried. His greeb eyes look determined and a bit dilated.

Danny stared back as Damian wavered didn't changed a bit even after 30 minutes had past.

"I accepted your courtship, but you could've just texted me to met at a certain time instead..?" Danny spoke with a bit of a flattered smile growing as his eyes widen noticing Damian wasn't even done yet with how he open a curtain to reveal a custom coffin and grave stone specifically made for danny along with flowers, plushes and offering breads for the dead.

OH.. Oh he definitely marrying him now. Now let him sleep in the coffin before danny start crying too.. also hand him some of that bread too.

[lalunanymph]

MARRY THE TRAITOR ; gojo satoru

⟡ the day you met your demise is the same day you met gojo satoru, your betrothed from a world so different from yours—a cruel prince who is undoubtedly in love with someone else. as the stakes rise and you race against the clock to beat your brutal fate, can you make the ultimate choice between your heart or your happily ever after?

includes: fem!reader, reader is a florist in our world, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, yandere!gojo, prince!gojo, princess!reader, reader is in cerena's body, princess cerena is described to have pink hair and feminine features, isekai-ed reader, mentions of death, mentions of blood, assault, injuries, smoking, mentions of terminal illnesses (cancer), language

⟡ masterlist

ACT 1, SCENE 1: MIRI'S REPRIEVE

It was horrifyingly cold tonight. 

Your body seized with bouts of shivers the second you stepped out of your shop, the smell of roses lingering in your hair. The lights are already switched off, the tulips you were shearing just a few seconds ago placed in crystal vases by the shop window to keep them from wilting overnight. 

However, as much as you try to distract yourself, there’s a shake in your hands you cannot ignore.

Pulling out a crumpled cigarette from your jacket pocket, you burn the end of the white stick with your cheap convenience store lighter, watching the flickering flames cast shadows across the wet road as you’re suddenly struck by a thought from a long, long time ago. 

The great Greek philosopher, Plato, once theorized that humans were born whole. 

Each of us, regardless of race, creed, or religion, shared one body, four arms, four legs and two faces fused together on a singular head. 

However, the gods—vain as they were—feared the human’s increasing power and Zeus himself devised to split them into two separate parts, forever condemning mortals to search for their other half in a journey filled with despair, longing and loneliness.  

The first time you heard this in Philosophy 101, a part of you was intrigued, if not a little terrified at the notion. While you weren’t a particularly huge subscriber to the idea of having a soulmate, it did have a sense of appeal for a girl raised on stories of handsome princes saving dainty princesses from their castles of grief and isolation. 

But, tonight, your jumbled mind can’t stay on Plato or distractions for too long. It constantly circles back to your mom.  

The scans she took had came back positive, and the doctor’s bleak voice on the other end of the line read like a death knell to your flimsy hopes that the cancer hadn’t spread further than her stomach. 

Your eyes weighed heavily, the burden of knowing sanding you to the bare bones till you felt close to breaking down on the cold road, screaming and shaking your fist at the night sky; cursing the gods for tearing the only person in the world who still loved you from your side.

Why they did it, you will never know. 

You weren’t exceptionally powerful nor did you pose a threat to the deities above. You were a simple florist in the middle of the city, trying to make ends meet and pay all your bills on time; nothing but a tax-paying citizen and a role model for small business women trying to make it big in a competitive city.

Smoke curls around your figure and you suck on the nicotine, letting it coat the back of your throat and numb the ends of your fingers.

Oblivious to your surroundings, you tread past an alleyway, ignoring the scampering of rats and smell of garbage burning through your nose. You inhale another toxic breath, expelling it out and watching the plume of smoke disappear upwards.

“Hey.” 

Nothing could prepare you for what came next. 

Turning around to appraise the voice calling you from the shadows, white hot pain cracks through your head, leaving you blind from the sudden assault.

Your cigarette falls somewhere at your feet, and you tumble to the gravelly ground on your hands and knees, skinning your palms as your ragged breaths echo in this dilapidated and abandoned alleyway. 

A hand shoots out to grab your purse, and before you can croak a yell or blindly turn to confront your assailant, another blow cracks down your skull, making you collide face first into the dirt-packed ground. 

Pain explodes in your face, white-hot and agonizing. Your breathing and the sound of blood rushing through your ears is the only thing you can hear as you breathe in the smell of dirt and blood, your head feeling like a thousand sparks of pain were going off at once. 

Cracking open your good eye, you catch a sliver of light in the distance; it washes over you, potent and soothing. The light at the end of the alleyway shimmers, and you think this is it—this is the last thing you will see from this world. 

Not your mother’s smile, or your best friend’s laugh. There are no flowers in your hand, no loved ones standing over your sickbed to kiss your cheek one last time before you depart this world.

It’s you, the floor, the blood trickling in your mouth, and your consciousness slowly ebbing away.

The last thing you remember before your world snuffs out like a pathetic candle is seeing the beady eyes of a rat shining in the dark, its long tail curling around its dirty body as it scampers closer and closer to you. 

And then, nothing else remains.

“... care to explain yourself?” 

The world is too bright, much too loud and you cringe back, a loud ringing clanging in your ears like the high-pitched squeal of a thousand nails on a chalkboard. 

What… is this scene? 

Your eyes struggle against the bright light and you wince, throwing your hand up to your face to ward off the glare. 

When your gaze finally focuses, you’re confronted by a pair of ice cold blue eyes, his sneer tearing through your mind like a bloody gash on white canvas. 

“Are you an imbecile?” His chilling tone laced with arrogance and contempt sears through you, leaving you mute and dumbstruck from this stranger’s sudden hostility. “I asked you if you would like to explain the accusations brought against you for hurting Miri.”

A girl with bright red hair and freckles splashed across her cheeks looks up at you with fear in her eyes. You take a step back, assessing her attire and countenance with open horror. Her pale face like the moon, dirt-streaked hands with stubby nails and a uniform splotched with indiscernible stains. 

But, that isn’t what draws your attention: it’s the look of contempt secretly masked under her woeful and pitiful expression. Those green eyes burn through you with the force of a thousand deaths, each one more painful than the last.

“Cerena.” 

Your eyes grow wider when you realize this strange man is speaking to you—calling you by an unknown name. 

As your attention shifts back to him, you’re stunned and breathless. His shock of pure white hair, towering stature and cruel, azure gaze never yields from your expressions, thin lips twisted into a baleful grimace. His attire is one you have never seen before: a regal, embroidered jacket and matching pants in the darkest shade of navy blue. Regalia and military medals drip from the lapels of his jacket like icy tears, each metallic glint striking more fear into your heart as you take in his majestic and imposing demeanor.

“I said, speak, wench!” 

Dexterous and pale fingers, like that of a violinist, grasps your jaw painfully as he jerks your face towards him. Instinctively, you tense and push him away, a petrified look on your face.

“Who are you?” 

Obviously, it wasn’t a question he was expecting. The princely man gives a dignified scoff, the corners of his lips twisting into a terrifying sneer. 

“Oh, so now you're playing the short term memory loss card? Stop begging for attention, Cerena, and own up to your mistakes.” He moves aside and the maid cowering behind him lifts her teary eyes to him, her pitiful state clearly tugging on his heart strings and his protective instincts. “Miri told me you slapped her when she wouldn’t braid your hair fast enough, and you even threw your tea at her. Pray tell, is that a way how a princess acts, Your Highness?” 

His words drip with venomous sarcasm. You open your mouth and then close it, unsure of how to respond to him—what you could even say in these circumstances.

But inside of you, welling deeply and painfully, is a surge of anger at being falsely accused for something you did not do. You have no idea who he is, who Miri was to him and who even is this woman called ‘Cerena’ he keeps on referring to you as.

What you do know is that he has slighted you with his openly hostile tone and body language, and if years of being a florist in a cutthroat business has taught you, it’s that you should always stand your ground against unruly customers to safeguard your reputation and dignity.

“I have no idea what you are speaking of,” your words come out frostier than you intended. Your sharp gaze sweeps to the other maids observing the spectacle with stony faces. “I wish to go back to my room.” 

Turning on your heel, you take one step forward and realize just how heavy your gown is. Lace and organza with dangling pendants woven through the thick fabric, you move as if walking in a vat of molasses, slow and controlled, when all you want to do is storm off. 

“Hey. I am not done speaking to you—”

It’s easy for him to catch up and grab your arm, impeding you from making your swift exit.

“Is this how you are to treat your subjects when we become wedded, Cerena? I would think that the princess of Kraith herself would have better manners and not behave like a barbarian!” 

His words snap something tight in your chest, and your nostrils flare. You break free from his grasp and spin around, fists clenched to your sides.

“Do not touch me,” your deathly warning stills the entire room. “Do not speak to me like this and if you wish to protect her reputation—”

Your eyes fall on the maid still cowering on the floor, her eyes turned to the ground, but a shadow of a smirk on her face belies her true intentions. 

She was attempting to frame me… or, Cerena. She is trying to get us in trouble with this powerful, spiteful man. 

“—next time, choose someone else who doesn’t make it obvious that this is all a ploy to smear my name.”

mtt fun fact: maids are divided into different tiers according to the nobles they serve. miri is at the bottom tier, and her scope of work mainly focuses on cleaning the hallways and stables

dawn says: it's bit of a shorter chapter, but trust, the drama is gonna hit you like thief-kun when he smashed our heads in yayy <33

!! reblogs and feedback and asks about this series are so beloved and appreciated and will motivate me to update and write faster <3

©️ all rights reserve to lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my story, repost or claim as your own.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Benjicot, a man made lord far too young, had little to no experience with the soft, sweet tenderness of an love as pure as yours when battle was seemingly the only thing he knew.

He didn’t find the callouses embedded in his hands all too appealing nor the scars that littered his body never less the prominent one that made its home on his upper lip. His childhood had been ripped away from him and he was given no time to mourn nor grieve over it, but instead was thrusted into an unforgiving war that cost countless their lives, lives that he’d often wept in your arms over in the dead of night.

In the midst of the fighting and death, you were Benjicot’s reprieve, his safe haven where he could freely be seen as vulnerable and emotional without fear, so much so that he swore he could feel his heart heal by your soft words alone. You hold his face so sweetly within your hands and look at him as though he were the only thing in all the realm that was worth your loving gaze.

Why? Why did you look at him as though his hands weren’t soiled with blood?

Why did you look at him like he was the one you wanted to be with, even more so when you grew old and grey with deteriorating mobility?

What was it that you saw in him that made you smile upon seeing him, for that very smile had Benji feeling as though he was being set aflame but without the excruciating feeling of flesh being melted off of bones.

Your love left him breathless and aching for more simultaneously that he was certain that you would be the death of him, but he wouldn’t mind that being the case if it meant being comforted into the sweet release of death in your comforting arms.

You held his calloused hands as though they were precious things to behold, kissing the inside of his palms and all the way up to the pulse point in his wrists gently, so gently and gentle that Benjicot found himself choking on all the words he wants to say in that moment as tears brimmed his eyes.

You held him close to your body and whispered words into his ear in hopes of soothing him of his pain and suffering, so much that made Benjicot cling onto you even tighter as though he were scared that you were merely something he had made out of guilt, of loneliness. Benjicot didn’t want to think that you weren’t real, he doesn’t think he could handle the chance that you weren’t, not when you have never felt more real in those moments where he needed your soft and tender affection more then ever.

You were his solace, his strength, his courage and so much more that Benjicot couldn’t fathom his life without you in it, he just couldn’t and didn’t want to. So while he could still had you in his arms, Benjicot could pretend that you were meant to be forever, even if it was for only a little while.

Aeron Bracken was a man so ethereal and beautiful it was enough to make you cry.

Even now as you laid on a field together, you found yourself looking at him more than you did the stars that hung above. How could you when the most gorgeous thing in existence was lying beside you with a peaceful expressing across his face, a stark contrast to the expression of furrowed brows and frustration that you often saw plastered across his face in stressful situations.

Even his hair was perfect as it framed his face beautifully so that you got a good look at his dark eyes that looked like whiskey in a crystal glass or honey when the light hits them in certain angles. Aeron Bracken didn’t feel real sometimes, he was a man who valued his duties and all they entailed and did them to the best of his abilities, his voice was as soft as a feather that you sometimes found yourself leaning closer to hear him without noticing until he moved his head to look at you directly.

He smiles knowingly while concealing the fluttering feeling within his chest, Aeron doesn’t speak many words but his eyes spoke for him in a way the surpassed the need for words. You could see his soul through his gorgeous eyes and it was as beautiful as he was as you allowed your pinky to gingerly touch his own, only for him to respond in kind by linking pinkies with you all the while his warm eyes stayed glued on you.

You hated how easily Aeron could read you sometimes but other times you were glad that he could, that he always knew what you were feeling and what you wanted in that moment and gladly give it to you without hesitation or complaint. Aeron would wait on you hand and foot as though you were royal, but you would always gesture him to stand up and meet your eyes so you could tell him that there was no need for him to do so; only for Aeron to disagree by claiming you should be treated as such without obligation.

Aeron knew where your mind was like the back of his hand, he knew the lingerings of your gaze but didn’t say anything until he felt the moment was appropriate. The tension was there between the two of you, but the thought of overstepping what you were to one another in hopes of becoming even more was a feeling unlike any other, for finding genuine love in Westeros was scarce and unheard of; You and Aeron knew something was there between the two of you but were skittish about indulging in the desires of your heart, forcing yourselves to a life of wanting and yearning for something that was right in front of you.

[interstellarflare]

A Cinderella Story || Anthony Bridgerton

-PART FIVE-

Summary: Have courage, and be kind. Words that you tried to live by ever since the passing of your parents. Though your step-mother and step-sisters did everything in their power to hide you and your status away from the rest of the Ton, you never expected to catch the eye of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton himself.

Authors Note: This is my first Bridgerton series! I had an absolute ball writing this, and I hope you enjoy it! There is a tag list open if anyone wishes to be kept updated for future parts. Gif by @venusianbabie

|PART ONE| |PART TWO| |PART THREE| |PART FOUR|

With the house descending into silence, you allowed yourself a moment to collapse onto the lounge in the living room with a loud sigh. With tired eyes your gaze focused on the ceiling, staring at the crystal chandelier as it glittered brightly.

A small smile crossed your lips, grateful for the peace and quiet. Lady Worthington, Mary and Elizabeth had left for the ball mere minutes ago, all of them excited and nervous about their prospects for the night. You hoped that Elizabeth and Lord Burton would get a chance to speak tonight, she had been so beside herself before she entered the carriage to depart. They had travelled with the Cowper family, who had sneered at your person when you had helped the Worthington’s to the carriage.

The train attached to Lady Worthington’s dress was a nightmare to manage, all bundled up in your arms so as to not drop it in the mud at your feet. You were covered in it now, thanks to a harsh push from Cressida who sent you sprawling onto the ground. Luckily however, you managed to save the train though.

You felt the sting of tears prick your eyes, a sense of sadness overwhelming you. How had you become so unfortunate? To be stuck with a wicked witch for a stepmother, and two stepsisters that laughed at you upon your little trip in the dirt. Elizabeth hadn’t said anything, nor looked your way when Mary and Elizabeth started to cackle loudly. She merely turned away; her eyes downcast as she carried herself into the awaiting carriage.

You missed your father, you missed your mother. Their love and kindness was completely gone from this home, the home you had grown up in as a child. You cried into the cushions, sobbing loudly and desperately. You had never felt so alone, so vulnerable…so lost. You knew that they would want you to be brave, to stay strong, and to have hope that everything will work out in the end. Your mind flickered back to the book you were reading earlier that morning, of the fabled prince charming sweeping the princess off her feet, and living happily ever after.

Perhaps your prince charming was around the corner, perhaps he was waiting for you somewhere to take you away from this now horrid home, filled with heartache and distant memories-

There was a loud knock at the door, so loud that it echoed throughout the foyer and into the living room. You jumped with a small squeak, bolting upright in your position on the lounge. You wiped your eyes, drying your hands on your muddy dress and wiping your nose with your apron. It was unladylike surely, but you were not a Lady anymore. After trying and failing to make yourself look presentable, you hurried towards the door as the knocking sounded again. It sounded desperate, frantic even, your face contorting into a confused expression as you tried to think of who it could be.

It couldn’t be a visitor for Lady Worthington or her daughters, the rest of high society was at Lady Danbury’s ball, and it was way too late in the night for anyone to be here in the first place. So, who could it be? As you opened the door your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat as you recognised the man that stood before you.

Viscount Anthony Bridgerton smiled, staring down at you with kind and soft expression. His eyes never left yours as he spoke, seemingly examining every inch of your face as he bowed politely.

“Miss Y/n, I apologise for calling so late, would I perhaps be able to come in-“

“Why are you here!?” You found yourself exclaiming, your eyes wide in shock as you felt your heart began to beat wildly. Anthony Bridgerton, one of the most distinguished men on all of the ton was standing on your doorstep. Why?

Anthony chuckled, his charming smile widening as he shrugged his shoulders. “Why not?” he replied lightly, finding amusement in your expression as it changed from shock to pure bewilderment.

“If you are here to see Lady Worthington or her daughters, they are gone” You replied shortly, your gaze falling nervously to the floor as you suddenly became very aware of your current state. You were completely covered in slowly drying mud, bloodshot eyes from crying, you no doubt looked like a complete wreck…wonderful.

Anthony hummed “I’m not here to see then, thank god. They arrived at the ball shortly after I left-“

“Why did you leave? Surely someone will notice your absence, and what will the ton think if you are found here, alone…with me-“

“My brother is good at coming up with excuses, I’m sure he’ll spin some wide tale about my whereabouts”.

“And is that something you wish to deal with?”

“Benedict can be a bit excentric at times, but I trust him wholeheartedly…” Anthony finished, clasping his hands behind his back and standing tall, “..now Miss Y/n, may I come inside? Or are you to leave your visitor out in the cold?”.

It hadn’t occurred to you until now, but as Anthony stood before you, you couldn’t help but notice how tall he truly was. You hadn’t noticed it this morning, but he towered over you, the top of your head just barely reaching his chin. You stared up into his eyes, searching for any sign of jest, that this was all some sort of joke, and a complete figment of your imagination conjured up by your saddened state.

But he was real, and he was here.

You released a short breath, a soft smile crossing your lips as you stepped aside and gestured for him to enter.

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[haitanology]

all is said and done before doomsday comes ; s62 x fem!reader

—it’s no secret that tenjiku brings misfortune to all those whose red fabric bleeds onto their skin. before the dooming tragedy crashes upon all of your closest friends, you indulge yourselves in a night where all limits break, tasting what once was forbidden to them.

warning — smut (mdni) ! gangbang, sub!reader, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), orgasm denial, double penetration, anal, dacryphilia, squirting, lots of cum/spit/tears, creampie, praising, body worship, overstimulation, size kink, reader’s eyes are covered at one point, 69, mating press (?), some of them are filthy little freaks and others nasty little shits, kakucho not invited bc he was 14 at the time, got a master’s in dickology i guess bc never have i ever described so many with such detail, there’s probably more i missed idk

wc ~ 9.6k

note, this. this is what i bring to the function. the inability to write porn without plot, always shoving in feelings everywhere.

part i. my heart for thought.

the day before the fight between tenjiku and toman, all men close to you meet up for dinner at your apartment. a tradition dear to you ever since they were boys, with so much anger on their cupped hands spilled in the violence that filled their every desire. yet, not a single drop ever splashed onto you, their touch soft albeit drenched in murderous blood.

paths crossed after stumbling upon their formation, running away from a crowd of high school boys —at the time way older and bigger— you were the reason for their first conquest as tenjiku. a bond forged with the vivid red of your hearts’, the black of the darkness that surrounds them and the white of the ray of hope you offer.

ever since then you’ve been friends, the closest ones could ever be. your heartbeats merged; a yearning for your warmth naive. presence leaving traces of heat on their cheeks, some dark red much like their uniforms.

however, time passes, and before you now stand men. knuckles bruised and innocence gone, viciousness part of their hearts along with the thirst for a bigger power. and even then, a big chunk of their hearts and souls has never left your hands, having them crave more strongly —never understanding what they even wanted.

also having grown with them, with each year your fear has only grounded itself further. roots wrapping around your feet and having you stay put as the world they have constructed opened itself to you. screams laced in agony and tears reflecting sadness, you were aware one day those sadistic grins would perish. the thought eats you alive night and day, in your nightmares and dreams.

it wasn’t the loneliness that scared you, but the idea of losing the blood that pumps your heart. romantically, there’s nothing (or so you say); despite that, the strings that connected you to them are thicker —tough to break and more tense than they have ever been.

so tense they could come undone and tie themselves back up to a bond that’s even mightier. but nothing can make them crumble, you are sure of it.

“i don’t want you guys to fight tomorrow.” you leave your words to hang in the air, washed in the scent of loitering takeout boxes, steam circling around them.

outside, the vast darkness is splattered by dots of light. not following a pattern, entangled in their dance, two stars farther than the rest. in the wide crystals that separate your group from the cold winter night, calmness is reflected.

you barely whisper, but their attention is always on you, so to them it was as loud as a scream. a plead for tranquility to finally settle, heart stripped to vulnerability.

“why the hell not?” shion retorts, although his tone isn’t mad nor pissed off. eyes on you, like they’ve always been, feasting on your pouting lips.

he keeps the head shake to himself, chopsticks navigating through his food to keep his mind occupied. nevertheless, the plopping sounds coming from the boxed noodles have him swallowing down an invisible lump in his throat.

“have a bad feeling, dunno.” shrugging, you mumble, dulcet to combat shion’s unconscious roughness. a gesture he silently thanks, chest constricted inside of him.

not having touched the food tonight, your hands rest in heavy fists on top of your thighs. your stomach mocks you, feasting on the concern that drops upon it, twisting in giddiness that makes itself painful to you. the living room’s icy kisses bring you shivers, its presence heavy.

when the younger haitani scoffs, forcing you out of the mortal trap that are your thoughts, you notice the piercing ache in your head from your harsh wrinkles in between furrowed brows. you don’t want them to misinterpret your worrying for anger —not that they would— the curve they form now more upset.

“nothing will happen.” rindou waves your fear off with a lazy hand from his place in one of the couches. the smile he gifts you gives a tender hug, so joyful and relaxed. “as long as you’re alive, none of us could ever think of leaving you.”

they don’t need to say it out loud; they all agree.

on the other hand, you offer rindou a smile of your own. it’s nervous, trembling while it holds itself up, but ravishing in his eyes. swimming in a vivid purple, his pupils grow bigger, lights reflecting a desire for your wellbeing —a desire for you.

his words can do wonders, and while it may be just for a short time, you can proclaim there’s been an instant tonight where you’ve felt everything would be alright. the world sure wasn’t ending tomorrow, not when that same world declares it won’t. no matter what, all because of you.

yet it’s all in your eyes, wide and averting. the terror has taken over you like a parasite, taking more than sweet words to get rid of.

“yeah, we’re plenty strong!” mochi exclaims, his grin triumphant. arm lifted, he flexes it with pride to which shion rolls his eyes, but the short snort you utter makes it worth it. “what, you don’t trust us?”

your eyes broaden even more when you hear his dejected question, his smirk fallen into a disappointed frown. you shake your head, rapidly so. trusting their strength; with your heart in their hands, you don’t want it to suffer.

throughout the years, the bond that connects you to them has proven to be ever growing. your mind, body and soul as much of a part of them as your own. same for them, who have given all of those to you when all you knew were their names. if it were to be severed, something within you would die, and if it happened to morph into a more passionate craving —one none of you answer to nor understand— you’d fear for the unknown future, and the growth within your heart.

“it’s not that, i’m ju— just—“ you don’t mean to stumble upon your words, the same way you don’t want them to think you can’t leave fate on their calloused hands. taking a deep breath, you gulp. “just—“

but your words are deep in your chest, unable to get out. your gaze glistens, honing onto your fidgeting hands, blinking any trace of the soon to come tears. the bad omen only makes its presence more evident to you, poking its ugly tongue, invisible to anyone else in the living room. it’s real, vivid, and it makes you—

“scared?” it’s mucho who completes your train of thought in your stead, always listening to your heart, inviting him to the confines of your mind.

he’s never needed many words, his gaze hungry for the knowledge of you. and when you nod, answering his query, his expression relaxes. although only when your terror has truly subsided, will he rest peacefully.

“i’m terrified.” you confess, the moon at its highest peak in the darkest sea. voice thin, breakable with a simple touch.

they loathe it, your distress. a stab to their hearts even when someone else’s fright pumps it back to life. to them, that was love, caging your fragile heart in their arms so that their backs take all the damage.

a hushed promise is shared between all of them, one to save you from that dismay, no matter what it takes or how it’s done. it’s sealed, and so is the night’s fate.

there’s shuffling, muted steps silent against the floor below. in front of you stand a pair of black socks, looking up to come across the diminished violet hues of izana. a deep color honed in violence, shining with anger that once glimmered with joy. ruined by the big heart of who he thought was his brother, so eager to bring up mikey to the life they shared —their secrets, their bond, broken by the youngest’s toothy grin.

alas, you haven’t been tainted by his ill-fated hands yet, secured by his own presence. his hand, small but grounding, delicate despite how many punches it has thrown at the world around him. all blood is cleaned, resting on your thigh, caressing your skin.

an electrifying touch, much like the others’, having you sweat. heat on your face, heart hungry, but you’ve never given it much thought. you’ve always loved them, willing for the emptiness of your body to fill itself with yearning so as to not sacrifice what was carefully built.

izana speaks in gentle promises and strong declarations. he doesn’t sugarcoat what’s intense, allowing it to crush whoever hears him, wanting his love to be known. you know they do love you, but the blind eye you all turn to when it comes to the dissatisfaction of your desires will always yell louder.

“we love you, so much.” more than you could know, the silence completes, unheard.

you find the hidden words with ease, nothing will happen to us, he says, and what izana says, goes. but they are blind to the scythe in the middle of the room, itching to spin around and take its next victim. and you know, between you and those whose red jackets bleed, the result will always be one of them.

“enough to drop the fight?” you counter, your decisive frown challenging them. deepening once izana gives a slow shake of his head.

“enough to refuse to die.”

his response isn’t as reassuring as you would have liked, no matter how deep his words puncture. he gives your flesh a firm squeeze, eyes widening at the tight grip on your thigh.

clearing his throat, he turns back to his place on the couch. a small smirk, concealed as triumph when all it really shows is satisfaction. actions given out to make you forget the disappointment due to his answer.

you sit there, missing the warmth of his presence; the contact on your skin. cravings come back up, like bile stuck to your throat. you need to keep it away, as you have always done.

gulping, you focus on the clock’s ticking. small conversations are carried out between them: shion’s obnoxious laughter and rindou’s childish chuckles, the serenity of mucho’s presence, mochi’s boyish pride, the veiled kindness izana attempts to hide or ran’s attentive listening that you know makes him caring —even though he sometimes uses all he knows to poke fun at them.

you love tenjiku, even kakucho, who couldn’t be there tonight. his spot is empty, unoccupied, chopsticks untouched on top of the table. you don’t care, keeping him close to your heart as well.

“i’ll protect them, always.” mumbling, ran’s lips curve up into a smile full of fondness. adoration sparkling the hyacinth tint of his pupils, capturing the memories of the people he treasures for himself.

your own smile engraved on his mind forever, one he makes sure will always stay that way. along the light in your eyes, never dimming despite their company. you make them forget what they are, and what friends would they be if they don’t return the favor?

dinner ends when the moon is at the brightest peak of her journey. between indistinctive chatter you all clean up, the suffocating smell of food consumed by the strong winds from the ajar window.

goodbyes happen as they have done ever since the beginning. strong hugs that last longer than usual this time, pressing you closer to them, some hiding the goosebumps caused by your nose against the side of their necks. others decant for kisses on your cheek, lips so different but exuding the same elation —the exact same passion that burns you from the inside out.

the door opens; you wish for this night to keep going. a reckless dream that should have been more precise.

“i love you guys.” through wobbly words, you manage to say in a flimsy voice. stare avoiding theirs, and lips pressed together tightly. “thank you, for being in my life.”

you blink, trying to dry off your watery eyes. back of your hand wiping them, getting rid of any trace of tears. your heartbeat quickens its pace, moving its way up to your throat, unable to add anything else.

but you turn to them, fear aside, wanting to take one more look before the inevitable happens. and when you do, you come across their gaping mouths and reddish blushes, their hearts going so crazy they are just as speechless. something was different, less friendly; more intricate.

it’s shion who breaks the silence, knowing that if any of them were to touch you now, what would happen could break what was so carefully tied together. they hated to fight against what they wanted, but they could never win if it meant for everything to crumble to pieces.

the world was so unfair, depriving all of you of the purest of loves, and the night to seal it off.

“you’re gonna make me blush, cutie.” shion smirks, more a grimace than anything else, turning around to walk towards the elevator. with an aching heart and disappointment, the others follow his lead too.

“yeah, he’s gonna have to go home quickly to beat his meat in peace.” mochi snorts, their backs to you, leaving you to listen to their forced chuckles.

“oh shut the fuck up! you don’t want me to start talking.” threat dangerous enough to have mochi’s mouth shut, you dread for the moment the elevator arrives. maybe it’s for the best, as all fun has now turned sour, frustrations hard to hide in each and every expression.

you loathe this departure, the bad feeling hugging you so close you choke on your misfortune and the emptiness in your body and soul. no choice but to sit back on your couch, loveless and alone, dreading for horrible news you are sure will end up coming true.

the elevator dings, doors opening wide. before they close, all of them spare you one last look, blended in sadness and failure, for your fear persists in your shaking figure and your pleading eyes. maybe they should have kissed you so hard, you have nothing on your mind but that. filling your thoughts with each of them, helping you sleep, doing whatever it takes. but they can’t do any of that.

after all, you’re just their bestest friend. a step they’re satisfied standing in, or they convince themselves they are, at least. but has there ever been someone to stay in the middle of some stairs, waiting forever for something to happen, not making their way up themselves?

the elevator closes; so does your door. the spare key still in its place inside the potted plant by the entrance.

part ii. my body for dinner.

your bedroom welcomes you with a cold hearted hug, having you wrap your arms around yourself. the huge windows make way for the night painted in streaks of melancholy, the city below so lively; you so dejected.

giving your bed a single glance, you can already tell sleep won’t be coming tonight nor tomorrow. your love is laughable to you, shy and unwilling to make itself braver, sticking to comfort.

what’s so comforting about the loneliness you are doomed to drown in? where no helping hands remain alive to pick you up, having no choice but to join the men you love in death?

tonight will be full of these thoughts, you know that, yet they still hurt. each a stab to your body, a mockery at your soul. every ounce of positivity you try to get out of your system mere carnage to them. it had to be today, you should have crossed that line that unconsciously formed.

allowed them to come closer to you. much like shion’s calloused hands and their cold touch creeping up from behind you, covering your eyes and whispering close to your ear.

“boo!” you shriek, shoulders tense as you jump up in place. however shion’s hold is tough to get rid of, pulling you closer to him without coming across his chest. he wouldn’t have bitten back the moan that was sure to happen.

he laughs, everybody joining right after. you take a deep breath, huffing through their laughter with a hand to your chest. though you don’t want to admit, your heart’s elated at their appearance —at the fact they have come back for you.

“shion, what the hell’s your problem?” it comes out louder than intended, shrill and angry. to them, it’s obvious you don’t mean it. your brows furrow, scowling at the group of men you can’t see. “and why did you guys come back?”

when shion’s lips lean closer to your ear, hot breath fanning the side of your face, your voice falters. the question dies out, tongue starting to dry. you have to suppress the filthy little sound you almost let out when he nibbles on your earlobe.

“you knew it was me?” you gulp when his voice turns deeper, lowered to a darkened pitch that you are ashamed to admit has gone down to your core. room growing hotter. the icy loneliness dissipated the moment they all walked back in, and even so your nipples are erect against your top.

you want to blame it on the cold, but you aren’t fooling any of them with that excuse. instead, you try to turn the situation around, gaining control and drawing another line.

“you didn’t answer my question.”

“you didn’t answer his.” bold as ever, izana takes the control off your hands unapologetically so. previous fondness gone, reserved in his heart for his full desires to let loose. at least, it’s what they all promised to do before clicking your floor’s button again.

deciding against remarking that you did ask first, you take one last deep breath. it’s filling and calming, not easing your erratic beating but doing wonders to clear your head. you don’t know what to do, having them all on your side, a stupid line long forgotten. is giving in to them your best choice?

or rather— is what you have always wanted the best choice?

with your next answer, soft spoken and sincere, you have erased any chance of such a line existing again. the fate of the night has been set, written in the stars watching behind your windows. destiny promised to the moon, gifting all of you the pleasure you’ve been seeking for.

“of course i know it’s him. i know each and every one of you.” because you love them, and because they love you so much too, they’ll help you without a doubt. in the nastiest way they can, but they’ll keep that to themselves.

for a brief second, shion’s hands leave your face to have you see them all. with barely any time to register the image of their eager eyes and hungry mouths, you are grabbed by the aforementioned and pushed to the bed, where you are now sitting on his lap. hands back to your eyes, nerves corrupting your mind.

biting back a whimper when your ass inevitably bumps into his clothed crotch, you notice shion’s breath staggers as well. it’s not too evident yet, but you know his cock will turn much harder, the wet kiss he gives your nape leaving a trail of goosebumps down your back.

you press your thighs —already close together— much harsher. the friction isn’t helping, but you don’t want shion to feel your throbbing cunt at the thought of what could happen. of what is sure to happen.

“we know you’d be awake tonight, still scared of us dying.” izana’s voice, under the sturdy curtain of playfulness, carries heed. their eagerness however, mixes in to give the atmosphere a knot of tension that must be undone. forming for years, but so fragile. “we want to help you forget, for you to relax.”

he doesn’t specify how they’ll do that; you don’t want to ask either. their response comes in heavy footsteps, a presence stopping right ahead of you, breaths heavy and fervent. then, your own breathing halts, leaning towards the anticipating uncertainty.

a hand is tamely placed on your cheek. huge, with big long fingers, and cosy, making you lean your head towards his hold. touch mild despite the brutality you know it unleashes, but you bathe in the traces lit up with craving fire as it slides down your face. moving down towards your chest, where a single finger circles around your covered boobs, crossing to your nipples to play with their hardness. his thumb joins to pinch one, your muted moan silenced by shion’s groaning at your ass’ moving.

“do you know who’s touching you now?” the latter wonders, tone low and full of need. through quick breaths he regains his composure, but his straining cock calls for your pulsating cunt so desperately.

unknown hand making its way below, it stops right above your clothed pussy. with its lone force he parts your legs apart, giving light slaps to the thin fabric of your pijama. you hum, leaning your head back to shion’s shoulder, legs making more way for the hand to go deeper.

it does, taking the hem of your pants and sliding them down to your ankles, where you make quick work to get rid of them. your panties are on full display, the darkened spot from your arousal a feast for their eyes. his lone finger once again slides against your underwear, the damp circle having the boy licking his dry lips. meddling with your entrance, but never quite entering, you want to beg him too, so badly. thought scrapped when his finger presses through to the wet mess that is your sex.

“yasuhiro…” you whisper, a primal want dressing it as a throaty moan leaving you to shudder in place. the mention of his first name, uttered so airily, sends blood rushing straight to his cock, giving an angry twitch silenced by his pants.

whining when mucho’s finger leaves your arousal, moving up to the hem of your panties, it singlehandedly pulls them down. legs moving to aid him in taking them off, letting the cool air be the first to taste your naked folds, covered in shining slick as it begins to clench around nothing.

“you want us that much, it’s good to know.” mucho declares, underwear pending on his index finger as he shows it to the rest, too distracted on your bare wetness. he discards it somewhere across the room, the sound of his voice so sensual to your growing impatience. “we want you so much, too.”

easy to tell by your dampened shoulder, where shion has let out a glob of his drool at the sight of you. fully hard cock pressed against your bare ass, rubbing your plump skin as he swallows all spit from his hunger. you don’t care, clenching your jaw at the absence of attention at yourself, your hands still as you know it wouldn’t be enough.

“such a beautiful pussy, so wet and needy.” is all mucho says before leaving your side, having you want to cling onto him and pull him closer with your wrapped legs. nevertheless, a new pair of hands rest on your thighs, just as big but way softer. tender skin well taken care of, rubbing your flesh near your core.

he’s graceful with his ministrations, long fingers ghosting over your clit. it’s easy to tell who carries himself with such elegance, dainty hands so curious yet sure of what to do. confirmed when his tongue licks its way up your cunt, lapping at your slick folds and sucking the plump flesh.

his tongue penetrates you, curling around to reach every spot it can get. you convulse around him, his insatiable mouth never getting enough of your slit, taking all the juices he can get. you wrap your legs around him, imprisoning him to your pussy. being barely able to register shion’s questioning, so eager to get an answer out of you.

“do you know who’s eating you out? can you tell?” you don’t say a word, poking your tongue out as you can only let out strangled noises. muttered cries for more, drool falling out of the corners of your lips.

your lack of a response isn’t welcomed. the confirmation of who’s hungrily devouring you coming when his pointy nose flickers your clit. choking your sobs at the tightness on your lower stomach, so willing to come undone as you buck your hips into his face —a feeble try to ride his big nose.

“oh—fuck!” you cry out, hearing the braided man slurping on your slick. cunt pulsing, begging for something more to fill it with. hands to the top of his head, ruining his perfectly combed hair with your grip. “ran, it’s ran!”

and for a job well done, he leaves your pussy unattended to give your clit a thankful kiss, resounding in the silent room. you hate it when his strength is much more than your own, pulling away from your hold. all the buildup inside you for naught.

shion’s tongue moves fast to wipe out your saliva, cleaning your lips and replacing the shine with his own. offering a chaste kiss to your cheek, at the same time that ran licks his lips with a content sigh.

“tastes so good, could eat her for hours.” he tells the rest. savoring the flavor of you inside his mouth, he gathers what is left around his lips and nose.

without much time to prepare for what’s next, as everyone in the room has grown eager to have you, your body writhes from the disturbance of a thick, prodding finger inside your cunt. walls squeezing the single digit, unmoving, a victorious grin on the man’s face at the spectacle you offer by thrusting your hips into his finger —fucking yourself with it.

shion’s breezy moans in the background don’t help his case in having the voice of the group. recomposing himself from the implacable grinding his dick receives. this time, he stutters, his hold on you turning frail. he doesn’t sound so cocky now, restraint crumbling without having any hands to pick it up with.

“a—and do you know whose finger is in— si—inside you right now?” he finishes with one long inhale, teeth biting his bottom lip.

on the other hand, you fight off the brimming tears in your eyes with your grinding. lengthy finger shoved in fully so that his knuckles are pressed against you, bruised and battered. less kept together but so welcomed by your walls anyway.

“mo—mochi.” you answer almost immediately, hopeful that he would do something to reward you for it. for his finger to pound you relentlessly until you finally cum. the thought alone sends you to clench around him, asking for more.

but mochi turns out to be sadistic, taking out his finger coated in your essence. you don’t see how he brings it up to his mouth, taking it fully to lap at your slick with an echoing pop. your breath hitches, shion’s pants now wearing darker stains.

“no first name for me?” he mocks you, teasing grin growing wider. silence greets him, and he does well to beat it by causing the first scream of the long night ahead. shoving three of his fingers inside your cunt, unannounced.

they curl, setting a merciless pace of back and forth to reach as deep as he can. the squelching sounds accompanied by your uncontrollable moans, high pitched and cursing out. the pressure builds once again in your stomach, back arching so his tough fingers can keep touching you in every spot possible.

“ah! kanji— sorry, so sorry kanji!” you beg for him to forgive you, spewing out apology after apology between the growing tears and trailing drool.

“it’s ok sweetheart, i love you.” he reassures you. so nice to you, your walls thank him by closing in on him. so good for him, leaving him to grunt from how obedient you are being.

“love you t—“ you want to tell him and the rest of them, in all its glory now that all limits have been broken and left behind.

however, rindou seems to have other plans, shoving mochi away not caring about his shouted protests nor your mewling at the emptiness of your pussy once again. orgasm denied for the second time, rindou’s weight bringing you to lie down on top of shion, lips chasing after your own.

they join together in a feverish kiss, viciousness bringing you two to a world of just both. lips tasting one another; tongues playing with each other, in such an aggressive way spit makes it way down your mouths and to your bumping chins. noses hitting as rindou tries to get even closer to you.

shion’s hands are forced out of your eyes, having you witness in the dead of the night, swimming in darkness, the pile of clothes by the bed. the men are all in front, almost naked if it weren’t for their underwear. doing little to cover their blazing erections.

“want you s’bad.” he breaks the kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting the two of you. mumbled so close to your lips, he takes yours in his without hesitation, teeth clashing and tongues entangled.

you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers ghosting over the streaks of black ink swirling through his back. muscles tense, he groans in your mouth and lowers his hips to your core. clothed cock rubbing against your folds, looking for more friction as he moves faster.

beside you, shion undresses, glancing over to rindou picking you up to kneel ahead of him, arms wrapped around your waist. empty thumps are heard from his grinding, and he decides to crawl his way behind you to help him in getting rid of your top.

effortlessly, they succeed in having you be the first to be completely naked. both men ogling your body up and down. your curves, every inch and crevice of your skin a feast for all of them. some palming their cocks through the fabric, others like rindou and shion, marking you with their mouths.

“so divine.” rindou mumbles, his arms and shion’s controlling your squirming from pleasure. hot breath trailing down to your naked boobs, hands drawing shapes on your flesh. “gorgeous body, all for us.”

you want to nod, instead drooling at their two hard cocks caging you between them. shion grabbing your ass cheek, playing with the molding skin by stiffening his grip. you moan their names, the covered contact insufficient.

“want your cocks, want you inside please.” begging for them, your hands make their way down to grab at their clothed dicks. both men pant, fingers wrapped around their lengths, feeling their hardened girths. “please fuck me.”

and with that said, both of them take off their underwear to have it join the rest of sprawled out clothes. in the dim lighting, with only the moon and the stars as witnesses, only the sparkling light in your pupils guides you to your instincts. so famished, tongue watering at rindou’s erected cock, intimidating as it stands —starving for your pussylips.

he’s big and very thick, a single protruding vein running down his length. red, angry tip, leaking precum and leaving it to slide down to pool around the base of his shaft. balls full and large, saliva drowning your mouth.

shion doesn’t stay far behind, not as big and way thinner, curving slightly to the right. his veins aren’t as marked but there are many, cockhead thick and itching to bury itself inside you. fat drop of precum waiting to fall into the mattress.

with a hand he guides his member to your folds, gathering all the wetness he can get. having you moan against rindou’s mouth, drowning any sound, you pull away to taste shion’s lips as well. spit mixing in with your eager tongues, hearing him swallow.

“can’t wait anymore.” you hear rindou complain, tip prodding at your entrance as he begins to penetrate you. a content sigh leaving your lips, whole length making its way past your tightened walls, cock molding the shape of your cunt to adjust to his size.

bottoming out, cockhead brushing your cervix, you and rindou moan in unison at eachother’s warmth. walls squeezing him so hard, his own cock buried in your wet pussy —the pressure so tempting to have you thrust against him.

and you do, bucking your hips onto his twitching cock, balls slapping your skin to create the filthiest of sounds. wet plops from rindou’s pace sending you into a frenzy, meeting his rhythm so that the coiling tension thickens and explodes into your orgasm.

“taking me in so well— fuck—“ although you can’t register rindou’s praises too well, shion’s rutting against your ass beginning to change into the intrusion of his dick inside your hole. pushing his way in with a single thrust —your very own slick acting out as lube.

you yell out his name when he hisses yours, spreading your ass open as his cock splits you apart. both holes completely filled, hints of pain slapped off by rindou’s fastening pumps. gripping shion so well, clenching around his girth and feeling every vein slide past your heated flesh.

“too much! s’good…” you cry out, the first set of tears coming out from your shut eyes. joining the threads of saliva you can’t keep in your mouth, mixing in on their way down your face.

the single vein running down rindou’s shaft ravages your walls so roughly. their tempo matching so that you never feel utterly empty, balls shaking with each snap of their hips. ecstasy choking you when rindou’s tip kisses your g-spot, relentlessly going at it so that more tears stain your vision —hazy and blurry.

you can distinguish izana’s nearing body, hand on his cock while he gives it a few pumps. he leans closer to your face, same fingers coated in his cum wiping your closed eyes. painting your face, you hum, growing hot as you convulse around both of the men’s cocks. answering you by pulsing through your clenching walls.

“these are the tears i love to see.” giving his finger a kitten lick, saltiness of your pleasure melting in his tongue, izana takes your limp hand and brings it up to his dick. “want to shower your face with my cum. you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

you nod, hand taking his cock and stroking it with deep movements. barely keeping it together with the sloppy pace both cocks inside you are falling into, forcing you to sometimes squeeze his length, drawing out throaty moans from the dark skinned man.

your cool fingers gliding past his searing meat make of him a fervent mess, hips bucking to fuck himself with your hand. head on rindou’s shoulder, you stare at his own tilted back, adam’s apple bobbing as your name is the only thing his lips can say.

“cutie your ass is so tight.” shion drags his cock out with difficulty, hole so adamant in keeping him in. only his tip rests inside, forcing your ass to remember his shape. “gonna fill it up, alright?”

he doesn’t leave room for answers, burying himself deep inside until your vision turns blind. rindou’s cock mimicking his actions, growing at the thought of your cunt taking all of his cum.

“gonna cum—“ you spit out, rindou’s shoulder welcoming your saliva and tears, joining his thin layer of sweat. “cumming, i’m cumming!”

“me too.” it escapes past his kissing teeth, the tremors of your body having him give one last powerful thrust before stilling inside of you. rolling his eyes, his risen shoulders relax once his orgasm crashes upon him. “keep it inside for me, will you?”

you do, for both of them emptying themselves inside of you. hot strings of sticky cum crawling into your holes, painting your walls white and having them spasm and contract as you let your own orgasm wash rindou’s length. he doesn’t let it run out, fucking the union of your juices back into you, not a single drop wasted. feeling so full, heaving out praises to both blushing boys.

“our good girl.” shion pats your head, soft kiss on your back and hands fondling your tits. you regain your breath still by rindou’s shoulder, knowing it’s not over yet with the way izana’s cockhead nears your face.

the two boys’ cocks leave your holes the moment izana’s twitches. releasing his load on your face, reaching your lashes, forehead and cheeks. streaks of cum painting your skin in a dense white, giving the last touch to your fucked out expression.

“god i love you so much.” admiring his work, and the way your cunt and asshole fight desperately to keep shion and rindou’s seeds. his smile broadens at the thought that this is just getting started.

indeed, mochi’s next in taking you into his arms, so small compared to his size. you don’t have time to regain your breath, composure crushed by the brutality of the s-62, quivering at mochi’s frosting hands.

“so sensitive already, sweetheart.” and so easy to handle, too. moving you as he pleases, lying down on the bed and having you on his chest, right above his underwear and bulging cock.

the big stain of precum is evident on the light grey fabric. an enormous bump waiting to be freed of its confined space. dark, trimmed hairs leading the way to his aching dick. your hands on his abs, stroking his built chest and floating up to his pecs.

his hands cup your ass, thumbs kneading the plush skin and hovering over your widened hole. you feel his dick jump up, taming him with a rock of your body pushed by your legs. he groans, guttural desire drying out his throat, starving for your glistening folds.

“can take it.” you promise him, small whisper loud in the quietude of your room. where the men touch themselves to the landscape of the shade of your figure plastered on the bright nightlife ahead of your windows.

he chuckles, vibrating chest so good for your throbbing pussy, waking up his cock even more. a hand trails up to your face, big thumb pinning your bottom lip. his tongue wetting his lips.

“course you will.” he says it like it’s obvious, dragging down the swollen lip until your bottom teeth can be seen. fingers full of your saliva, drying patches from the previous crying making you look so filthy. exactly how he likes it. “want these lips around my big cock, gonna give you a full meal.”

grabbing onto your hips, he turns you around with one swift twirl. pulling your ass closer to him, legs on each side of his face lifting your lower body, back arching as you are laid down in front of his underwear. clenching around nothing at the compromising position, mochi’s first to dig in to your cunt —tongue flickering your clit so erratically, you purr.

alas, you now have to fully undress him, taking the rim of his clothes and sliding them to the middle of his crushing thighs. he wriggles his legs, aiding you in taking them off completely, widely grinning against your pussy when you gasp at the full size of his erection.

standing furiously near his chest, where your chin hovers above his pubes. the size is enormous, so thick and dressed in many veins that draw intricate curves on his meat, making him even wider. mushroom tip prominent, broad slit already seeping out so much precum. fat plumps of a dirtied white gliding down his whole length, pooling around his base where even bigger, heavy balls rest. your mouth waters at just how much cum he will give you, hurrying up when the tip of his nose lightly teases your entrance.

your hand takes his shaft, whimpering when you see the struggle your fingers have wrapping around it. you pump it once— twice, mochi’s groaning so good for your cunt, going down on his nose so that the tip enters you. when your lips near his head to give it open mouth kisses, wet plops taking bits of his salty cum, your hand holds his balls, playing with them as they barely fit inside.

you take his tip in your mouth, warmth enveloping his cock as you try to move down on him. only taking almost half of his length, breathing through your nose and hollowing out your cheeks, easing your throat as his hips buckle onto your face. his moaning going straight to your pussy, where he begins to grow desperate slurping on your juices. noises nasty, making you moan and tighten your throat on his cock. tongue darting to lick every crevice, drooling so much it accumulates at the base.

both continue the rhythm of your grinding bodies, building your climaxes and chasing after them. hunger making you frantic, savoring every bit of essence as if it were your last meals.

“looks so pretty.” you listen to mucho’s voice on your back, his hand on one of your cheeks. “but i think you can take more.”

he declares it so impassively, keeping his cool as always, that you don’t see his hand raised and profoundly slapping your ass. it jiggles, closing in on mochi’s pointed tongue licking slow stripes. you scream, muted against the wet heat in your mouth. another hand joins mucho, this time being ran’s long finger entering your ass, so sensitive from shion’s stretching not long ago.

both of their fingers buried knuckles deep, a third hand slaps you once again as they begin to stimulate your hole. their ministrations along with mochi’s starved devouring pushing you to take more of the latter’s dick, gagging through parted lips as you take him fully —choking on his tip at the very back of your throat.

nose pressed against his bouncing balls, fucking your face as you do the same to his nose and tongue. your chin scratched by the bush near his shaft, you cry out feeble attempts of his name as more spit leaves your lips, fat tears joining.

“there we go pretty!” seems the third hand belongs to izana, cheering you through the orgasm that pours down onto mochi’s face. giving one more hard slap that sends your skin tingling, trapping mucho and ran’s fingers on your ass, finally letting loose.

you come undone, flooding mochi’s face with your cum and crushing his face with your thighs. he doesn’t seem to care, lapping at your cum without shame, drinking it until nothing is left out, before joining you and snapping his hips to release his load.

it’s dense, so much cum leaving his cock you can barely swallow it all. hot spurts abusing your throat, leaving thick trails out the corners of your lips that you’ll take care of later. it keeps fluttering, but never once you leave it unattended, making sure all of his semen is sucked dry. breathing in when you let it go, tip of your tongue gathering what little is around your lips.

you swallow it down loudly, the echoing plop from your mouth leaving his cock free so gratifying for his ears. he gives your cunt a mellow kiss, tenderness fighting off his roughness.

“good girl.” he coos, readjusting you as he pleases so that you now lie in his direction, ass against his still hard cock. he holds your chin and turns your head around to his, deeply kissing you, passing down the rest of your orgasm so you can taste the sweetness he did. “we love you so much, you are perfect for us.”

and you smile, fond and big it has their hearts pounding in their chests. you kiss the tip of his nose, giddy from their worship.

however, mochi moves up so that his head rests on your pillow. hands tracing patterns on your skin, watching your stomach rise from the harsh breaths you are taking.

“got one more in me.” he mutters close to your ear, feet parting your legs open, showing the rest your abused holes. “will you be a sweetheart and take it?”

how can you deny him when he asks so politely? previous fingering helping you for what will happen now, cock rubbing through your ass cheeks, willing to take his big dick to split you apart. pushing in, slowly making his way through unlike shion’s desperate entrance.

you wriggle in his hold, mochi shushing you by whispering sweet nothings into your ear. wailing at the size you have to adjust to, a little easier thanks to shion. your cum stained face is full of fresh tears and brand new globs of spit. tongue lolling out of your parted lips when he bottoms out.

buried deep inside your ass, filling you to the brim with each thick vein hitting you just right. your squinted eyes widen tremendously at mochi’s calling, gripping him so tightly at the idea of being torn apart by the two biggest.

“mucho, wanna join in? she wants it.” and he doesn’t hesitate to crawl up to where you are, underwear long gone. his cock isn’t much different from mochi’s, less thicker but way longer, looking so delicious against his chiseled chest.

he takes your legs, having them bend down near your shoulders, leaving so much room to hit even deeper. entranced by your wet cunt, glossy and begging for his cock to break it. and who is he to say no to his woman?

in one swift plunge, he finds himself buried to the hilt. balls swinging as the sound of smacking flesh from his ruthless penetration elicits the most pornographic moan he has ever heard from you. massaging his cock just the way he likes it, sponging walls enclosing the space and making him feel impossibly closer.

“so fucking tight— god, fuck!” he growls, pushing you to mochi’s chest, boobs pressed against mucho’s big —worked out— pecs. sandwiched between both men, ruining your insides just by staying still, you sob for them to ruin you —to move faster.

“s’big… ‘s too big—” your incoherent mumbles become higher in tone, allowing them to rock your body as they please. trying to meet their hips as they pound you dumb, reckless rocking making you cry out in ecstasy. “lov— love you s’much. luv your cocks s’much.”

your babbling pushes them to thrust harder. having you whine when mucho stops and his hand lightly slaps your cum covered cheek, calling for your attention. you look up at him, teary eyes sending heat straight to his cock, throbbing against your cunt.

“you see that?” he points down at your belly, a small bulge making it stick out. you take your hand to trace its shape, a silent chuckle gifting hints of happiness to your fucked out face. “that’s my cock, babygirl.”

and you love it, he knows you do. picking up his pace to meet mochi’s, so engrossed in your ass. he doesn’t want this moment to end.

you don’t notice how both of your hands are taken by shion and rindou, hard once again. but they know you don’t care when each hand takes their cocks, already familiar to you, beginning to masturbate them. their moaning helping your orgasm build up, this time stronger, with mucho ruthlessly pounding against your g-spot.

your head turns to the side, coming face to face with ran’s dick. he slaps you with it, playing with your hanging tongue by wetting it with your saliva. you stare up at his innocent grin, him looking down with dilated pupils.

“there’s still a hole unoccupied.” he simply mentions, cock twitching when your hand pulls the foreskin back to expose his angry head. so pale and long you don’t know what you’ll do to make it fit. curving up, he applies his precum to your lips like gloss, pushing in with his hips until he’s balls deep into your mouth.

body used by all of them, including izana whose hands are on your swollen clit, it doesn’t take long for your legs to begin their uncontrollable tremble. this time’s different, your moans turning into shrill shouting as a stream of tears run down your eyes, closed in bliss as you begin to see stars.

your third orgasm hits you harder than any other, right after mochi cums for the second time filling you up to the brim with his huge loads. you begin squirting all over mucho’s cock, squelching sounds getting wetter as more and more cum leaves out of you in hot spurts. he takes it out, watching as you make a mess of mochi’s legs, the mattress and his abs.

“shit!” you moan out, cum gliding down mucho’s cock that has entered you again. though your words are muffled by ran’s dick around your lips, you continue squirting out all your juices, milking out mucho’s cock in the process.

he has so much cum too, cunt stuffed full of his own after your mind blowing orgasm. balls drenched as well, but his smile tells you enough, and you don’t feel ashamed of it —even better, only proud.

pulling away, despite mochi’s cock still buried into your ass, he leaves your chest free for shion and rindou, who don’t take too long in covering your tits and stomach with their loads. satisfied groans out of their lips as they admire their work, thick globs of white on your sweaty skin.

ran’s the last to empty out his cum, doing it inside your mouth much like mochi. you take it all without hesitation, opening wide for him to see you gulping down his seed. uttering a sigh when you’ve eaten it fully, kissing the tip of his cock for a job well done.

“nasty little whore.” you have no idea who says it, the loss of mochi’s dick as he comes out of you taking over your mind. oozing cum follows, filthy trickles running down into your cunt, where you do a good job in retaining what they have given you. “our perfect slut, should’ve done this sooner.”

you agree, spent after three rough orgasms. alas, you see two men staying on the bed —two men that haven’t been inside of you yet. but you are so sore you don’t know if you can take them. such big cocks just like the rest of them.

“we want to taste you, too.” it’s ran’s voice, the one he uses when he wants something. turning innocent, words so tender they heal your tiredness with dulcet touches. you hate when he does that, falling for it every time. “you’ll let us, right? we’ll be gentle, i promise.”

your moans are so loud with each touch, both izana and ran standing you up on your knees, between both of their bodies. you teeter, head tumbling towards the man you have in front, which turns out to be the older haitani. shoulder so comfortable, you nuzzle closer to the side of his neck, kissing it.

your pussy takes him right up, so tight despite being so used throughout the night. he’s washed in the remains of your orgasm, easy for him to move, but he doesn’t. you wonder why, whining against his neck and jumping on his cock, legs quivering so hard you know it won’t take you much to cum again.

instead, a second cock makes its way up your cunt, having you scream out for your fourth orgasm at the close fit of both dicks inside your pussy. they rub one another, not appearing to care too much as both of their eyes are closed, jaws clenched. you squeeze them, adjusting to their size and ignoring the pain for the cum sliding down past them.

you’re crying, tears licked by izana’s tongue as he rejoices in them. no longer are you sobbing from fear, but so destroyed by each and every one of them you have nothing left of you but scorching pleasure.

“already?” he purrs, dragging his cock out just to thrust once more. skin gliding past ran’s veiny shaft, making him move as well, desperate for his release. “but you’ll let us cum, won’t you? after we’ve been so good to you…”

he trails off, falling into rhythm with ran, abusing your cunt for a little while longer. convulsing against them, forcing them closer, tightening your walls so that you can get out another orgasm for them. to show how grateful you are.

“we’ve been so helpful, haven’t we?” he slaps your clit, ran’s lips latching onto your nipples, sucking them clean. chest pressed on his own, sticky cum joining your bodies.

“yes! want you to cum in me.” you cry out, hips meeting their thrusts, bouncing on both of their cocks, balls slapping your pussy. “want you to stuff me!”

tongue poking out, ran moves up to take it between his lips, playing with it in his mouth. pulling his lips to yours in a messy kiss, so full of exchanged spit and trailing drool to your chins. you love it, you love them, and you show them by squeezing them so tightly they have no choice but to fill you up with their cum.

“well, pretty girl, take it.” izana grunts, and with one big roll of his hips, he empties himself inside of you. ran follows suit, whimpers and moans drowned out by eachother’s mouths.

you join them with your last orgasm of the night, leaving you barely conscious on the bed, drenching their cocks with one last wave of cum. you stay there, sprawled out on the bed for all to see, face full of dried out tears, so many different salivas around your swollen lips and remnants of izana’s cum. your body follows suit, drenched in sweat and thick lines of cum following down to the small little bulge on your stomach.

it’s mucho’s hand that presses that tiny bump, all watching as all the cum you’ve tried so desperately to keep inside oozes out of your beaten cunt, huge loads wetting the bed below you. your ass much of the same. you groan, whimpering at his touch, hips bucking unconsciously.

and with two fingers, mucho again shoves some of their seeds back inside, to leave you full. you close your legs, stretching your sore muscles from all the rough handling tonight. the moon’s still up, and its glow is casted above you, giving your enamored smile and angelic touch.

they all lie around you, circling you. shion and mochi on your thighs, rindou and mucho by your chest, and ran and izana near your head. soothing your muscles, kissing every spot they can.

“thank you.” it’s honest, despite the pain it brought, you enjoyed it more than anyone you are sure. in the darkest corner of your heart, it’s what you’ve always wanted, and you got it.

izana doesn’t want to ask if there’s any other thought inside your head that isn’t what just happened. after all, they’ve fucked you dumb. you have a hard time opening your eyes, breaths still long and shallow with huffing here and there.

he’s relieved, your suffering fully gone, consumed by their yearning. leaning down, his lips peck yours, back of his fingers brushing the side of your face.

“we’ve loved you like this for such a long time.” ran confesses, so vulnerable post-sex you love it. always having it hard to open his heart to what he’s feeling, trying to shove it in with insecure cockiness. you are glad it’s him who declares it.

your finger boops his nose, the two of you sharing childish laughter.

“me too.” you whisper, wanting to pat the other’s heads. to show them that you consider them, always. “but it’s all good, now i’m yours.”

and it felt so good to hear, meaning twisted to turn more romantic. more heartfelt, something they aren’t used to, but you’ll give it to them every time they need it.

“and all of us belong to you, but that’s nothing new.” you chuckle at shion’s words, legs numb and body resting. the bed becomes more plush to your body, hugging you and lulling for you to sleep. you try so hard to fight it, never wanting the moon to leave. for this to become a memory.

“i wish for this night to never end. to stay like this forever.” you dream, a foolish one. the moon will always leave and the sun will replace it, and this would only have belonged to the night before doomsday comes.

“c’mon, let’s give you a warm bath.” mochi says before you doze off into a deep slumber. missing their soft cleaning and the close attention to your body. praising it, worshipping all it has done for their enjoyment. they thank you in warm kisses and dark hickeys, thinking to themselves that after tonight, the result of tomorrow cannot escape their grasps.

they must win, for the woman so full of love for them. so that they can live their lives as one, together forever. and perhaps, all of you should have dreamed harder, because the memory of tonight would be the last between you all.

izana and mucho taken away by death’s greedy hands. you, having fallen so deep into a sea of darkness, you had to escape before it all consumed you. the only ones to hold this night close to their hearts, having their friends engraved in hanafuda and your love in their chests, where your initials rest.

everyone of you looking up at the moon every night, begging for her to take you back to that night —the night before doomsday comes.

— end —

good or bad i’m throwing it out there that english isn’t my first language. thank you for reading <3 our troops are so brave, getting through this whole thing and ending up with brain trauma (probably) anyway, reblogs are appreciated :) it’s like a pat on my back (yipee)

( @tenjikusstuff4 @luminouslaybyrinth @idekwhatimdoingsblog )

[chocsra]

yknow tht chuuyas friend got killed during the dragon head conflicts, right?(source dead apple) yea, wht if reader was one of them. letter fics reader confessing her love to chuuya and him finding it after she died.

"Tainted With Sin, Weakness Comes From Love."

16! Chuuya x implied fem! reader

summary: chuuya finds your letters to him after your death in the dragon head conflict

content: angst, heavy mentions of death, swearing

There, the boy remained victorious.

Others would furrow their brows, feel their heart clench into an impending drop. The utter and impeccable fear of such a small body, a young boy who yearned for nothing but a reason - a purpose, holding such power. He was as if he was sculpted by a passionate artist, a woman who presented herself as a 'mother' - soft orange locks, the ever glow of his skin that never left his face, and a harmonic assortment of features, those features that made him special. A child who was stringed together like a melodic harp by a mother is every child, and that was Nakahara Chuuya. He too, was a child.

At least, he felt like one.

"Chuuya," A tall, ginger woman speaks solemnly, clasping her hands together elegantly, as always. "here - [Y/N]'s stuff." Kouyou passes a large cardboard box to the boy; items like notebooks, pens, photos, and sticky notes. It had only been 14 days after the Dragon Head Conflict, and yet, the world's lost all sense of art: skies have been less blue, birds more or so melodically sing mantras of sorrow, rather than blissful chirps. Maybe it was because of his comrades who died, maybe it's because you were one of them, or maybe, it's his brain using his frustration with the world against him. In this box, consider it pandora's box of humanity - perhaps the sight alone brightened the sky, awakened the birds. You existed, and so, he longs to feel your existence once more. Be it through letters.

Chuuya runs his fingers along a folder of letters you've written. He'll close his eyes and pretend it's your skin - he'll close his eyes and make out each indent of each thought, each question you held for the universe on that paper.

Dear Chuuya,

Happy Birthday! You finally turned 16, loser. You're all over the Port Mafia, you know? Double Black is so goddamn popular I've been approached by people I don't know asking if we're friends. So ahem, here are my birthday wishes for my boy best friend - the only one I share my gossip to that isn't a girl.

You get taller.

You find out what the hell happened before you were 8.

A girl would finally like you or something - rare, I know.

You finally get a dog. PLEASE shut up about it :)

Thank you for being my friend, even though you lose your shit when we play UNO with Albatross. Get good, kid.

Sincerely,

- [Y/N].

The redhead can practically feel himself scoffing, even though it was more like a chuckle, before sealing the letter once again; a small smile tugging on his lips even though he finds himself wiping a bit of tears from his cheeks.

"Why did it have to be you?.." Chuuya chuckles, swallowing thickly to cover the strain of tears spilling out. Crystal tears were never a threat to the boy - once again, such things like a heart doesn't suit him - yet, he finds it ironic. Maybe you had it all along.

The boy, molded by the hands of divinity, stringed together by an otherworldly being, was nothing divine. Nakahara Chuuya reigned from torture, yearned for retribution, and became an artist - one acquired dazzlingly with revenge. He took the vessel of himself he loathed and despised it with his entire being. Arahabaki was no divine being, nor a mother who lovingly caressed and loved with dainty hands. He was a monster, Chuuya was too. But from the rippling shackles he's restrained himself to, there was an angel, sacred and divine, who chided him for his hatred, his sorrows, his regrets. You too, knew how it was like to lose, to betray and be betrayed, and yet, you would never bring those to him again, but it seems once again, you've failed.

You were an angel, his angel, a light in the sky that he never failed to follow. And yet, you too fell from heaven's gate. Chuuya, who has been by your side for years, never dare touch you - Nakahara Chuuya may taint you with his sin, ruin the wings that guide him through the light. But shit, as an artist of revenge - he'll repaint it with regret.

To grow from a child, child of hatred to man of soul, touch will remold him to his feet. Rebuke his despondency. Chuuya regrets, for his only reminder of your skin was your life slipping through his fingers like ash.

To be Chuuya's angel was to lace his hair in between your words.

To be Chuuya's angel meant you were going to be immortalized.

To be Chuuya's angel meant that was only going to happen once he's lost you.

Yet he still flips the page.

Dear Chuuya,

I like you.

I thought love was foolish. A four letter word, and one syllable of absolute bullshit. Love is only a fixation in TV shows and movies. Love is a weakness, and contrary to popular belief - love cannot save you.

But you saved me. Countless of times.

The first being when I botched an assignment miserably. I was about to sacrifice myself before you kicked all the enemies' asses! You even took the blame for me.

The second was when I ate too much during a celebration and you had to bring me home safely.

The third was when you didn't say anything after I farted in a closed elevator.

Maybe you're stronger than love, then. You're Chuuya Nakahara, the strongest ability user in the world. But, even if I fell for you - it's not because of your strength, or protection. I genuinely like you, Nakahara Chuuya, not the strongest ability user, but the boy who sought a past, the boy who longs for a wine collection, the boy who cries watching dog movies, the boy who thinks chokers are a fashion statement.

Don't think because you define yourself as Arahabaki I will too. You're so much more than that.

But eh, who cares anyway, its not like you know how to read or write.

Love,

- [Y/N].

The boy who sought a past, felt himself shatter, because now he actually he had one. A best friend of his memories. An angel only in his dreams. A desire he could only do so much but reminisce. But contradictory to your previous statement, Nakahara Chuuya could read, even write now.

All because you taught him.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Had an angsty thought, what if while Kieran was visiting unconscious reader in the hospital, he fall asleep and had a nightmare in which the reader didn't survive. Thankfully he is woken up by the reader messing with his hair.

Oof yeah </3 I imagine he did

Anyways this is just an excuse to turn those headcanons into an actual fic so enjoy-

..............

The light reflecting off of Terapagos' gleaming stellar form was almost blinding. A jewel resembling its smaller form rested atop its head, while it hovered slightly above a platform that resembled a dome--with a ring icons displaying every type revolved around it.

Kieran could only stand there, shocked and awestruck at the true might of this "hidden treasure" he helped unveil.

It was beautiful.

Brilliant.

Powerful.

Too powerful, in fact, as it suddenly experienced an immense energy overload, its cries becoming loud crystalline trills as energy exploded from its body. The sheer force was enough to cause the ceiling to start crumbling, and the ground beneath everyone's feet to shake violently.

In its rage, the Legendary send out a huge beam of light, careening towards the closest thing it deemed a threat to its safety in that moment:

Kieran.

Time seemed to slow down as he froze, unable to move or send out a Pokémon in time to intercept the blast. He never expected this to happen..he didn't know terastalizing it would do this.

All he could do was stare in horror at the light as it-

"MOVE!!!"

Out of nowhere, he was roughly shoved out of its path, tumbling to the ground with a pained grunt. He was bewildered, and looked to see who could have possibly done that for him...

It was you.

You took the full brunt of the blast, consumed instantly by a blinding light that forced him, Carmine, and Briar to shield their eyes.

When they were finally able to look again, what they discovered left them all absolutely horrified:

Your whole body was terastalized, chunks of crystals covering your legs and keeping you rooted into the ground. You couldn't move, speak, or access any pokeballs.

The only thing you could do was look at Kieran, who remained on the ground with ragged, labored breaths. His eyes were wide with shock, the weight of his actions now sinking in.

This was all his fault.

He did this to you.

He never wanted this.

He only wanted to be like you...

"[Y/n]...no.." He attempted to crawl over to you, desperate to do something...anything to fix this. Any anger he previously felt for you had evaporated.

He could still save you.

But then Carmine ran over and grabbed ahold of his arms, dragging him away from you. "We have to move back!! Terapagos isn't done yet!!" She shouted.

"NO!! NO!! LET GO OF ME!! I HAVE TO HELP THEM!!!" He kicked and screamed, tears rolling down his face as he was forced to watch you get attacked by Terapagos yet again.

This time, it was the energy of a Zen Headbutt that succeeded in striking you...

And shattering you completely.

Only then did he go silent for a few moments, before his voice broke.

"N-No...please no....[y/n]!!"

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"N-No...please no..."

Back in reality, Kieran wasn't anywhere near the underdepths of Area Zero. He was in fact at the hospital back in Unova, where you were being monitored during your comatose state.

While visiting you, he ended up falling asleep at your bedside, and was currently having nothing more than a horrible nightmare of what could have happened down there..

You did push him out of the way of Terapagos' attack.

You did absorb the energy.

But it didn't put you in a terastalized tomb, nor did you get shattered by any Zen Headbutt.

By sheer luck (that somehow is always on your side no matter the situation), you survived and fought off Terapagos long enough to finally get its powers under control, capturing it.

All while lifting Kieran's spirits and pleading for his help, with your noble act being the ultimate proof that you forgave him even after everything he did. That pushed him to come to his senses, and he decided to stand with you, instead of against you.

However, none of that came without a price...as the moment you successfully caught Terapagos, you collapsed and haven't woken up since.

It's already been about a week since that adventure, and the doctors were left puzzled by the extremely high levels of tera energy stored in your body while monitoring your condition. They didn't know what to make of it, but they did deem you a hazard to Pokémon, as some of theirs began terastalizing on their own just from being in the same room as you.

As a result, only humans were allowed to visit you without pokeballs attached to their person.

Kieran visited you every day.

Even now, he still didn't understand why you did that for him.

Why did you save his life...when all he did was talk about how much he hated and envied you? He even used his only master ball on Terapagos the moment it looked at you, and only because he couldn't bear going through that same pain he felt with Ogerpon again.

The pain of not being chosen.

Then again..he never gave either Legendary much of a choice, either.

Why was he like this?

Why did he let himself get this bad?

Why did he hurt the one person who never expressed any hatred or resentment for him?

He didn't know...but he fears that now he'll never get the chance to say sorry. He's said it a few times, yet isn't sure if you're able to hear him.

You probably thought he still hated you.

If you didn't pull through and died believing that...he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

That thought alone made him lose even more sleep.

Yet somehow, despite all of his anxiety, exhaustion found Kieran rather quickly today. His arms came to rest of the bed while he nestled his head into them, closing his eyes as he let the monotonous beeping of the monitors lull him to sleep. He even decided to let his hair back down since he felt a migraine coming on.

While sleeping did stave off the headache...it didn't keep him from having that nightmare and mumbling incoherently.

It felt so real. Like you and him never left the underdepths.

Like you actually di-

"Ki..?"

Feeling a hand gently tousling his hair, Kieran's eyes snapped open and he sat up with a start, gasping loudly. His bangs swept in front of his face, but he shakily pushed them back as he slowly realized he was back in reality.

Then he saw your eyes gazing directly at him, and he began to think...

There's no way you would've woken up this soon.

No.

He was still dreaming.

His mind was just preying on his worst fear (your death, indirectly caused by him) and his greatest wish (you waking up), blending the two together.

Even so, he wasn't sure and pinched his hand. "Wake up..wake up....oww.." He winced, only to blink as another hand overlapped his.

"Hey...stop that." You spoke again, causing him to stare down at you and finally see your tiny, exhausted smile. He was totally shocked.

Holy shit. You were actually awake and talking to him????

He didn't know what to do, but soon enough one of the doctors swung by--alongside several assistants who quickly ushered him out of the room so they could properly check on your health and tera energy readings.

Miraculously, they've dropped down to zero, meaning Pokémon could safely be around you.

It was all just a matter of waiting it out, and it worked.

Kieran was utterly speechless as he waited out in the chair for about an hour or so, but when your doctor came out to assure him you'll make a full recovery...he beelined back to your room.

Despite still being hooked up to the IVs, you looked a lot better, sitting up and gazing at him with a smile upon seeing him enter.

He teared up as you beckoned for him to come back over to your bedside, and he sat down in the chair again, sniffling. "Hey..how are you feeling?"

"Better than I thought, actually..like I took a long nap." You chuckled softly. "They're gonna keep me here for a few more days."

"I-I'm just glad you're awake..and that you woke me up, too." He nodded. "Just had this..really dumb nightmare, and....I-I....."

Suddenly it was hitting him all at once, and his smile dropped. He bowed his head to hide the streams that were now slipping down both cheeks. His jacket had slid entirely off his shoulders, crumpled into a heap in his lap, but he took his arms out and just hiccupped softly, wiping at his tears.

"Kieran?" You frowned slightly, shifting closer to put a hand on his knee. "Was it..about what happened down there?"

"........."

"I imagine it was bad.."

"I-It was worse. I thought...y-you were gone." He buried his face into his hands, unable to keep himself from breaking down. It was too much. "I'm just.....I-I'm so, so sorry, [y/n]. This was all my fault! This wouldn't have happened if....i-if I wasn't so stupid and-!"

"Shh, it's okay." You gently pulled him into your arms, and he began sobbing into your shirt, clinging to you tightly. "You're not stupid. It's not your fault that Terapagos got out of hand...you didn't tell it to shoot beams at me."

"B-But..But if I hadn't terastalized it--" He was barely able to speak, let alone breathe. "--you wouldn't...b-buh...be here! How is this not my fault?!"

"Kieran, you couldn't have known what it was gonna do. None of us knew. Plus...Ms. Briar told you to do that. So I blame her a hundred percent."

"...wh-why?"

"Hm?"

"Why won't you blame me? Y-You should hate me after all I did....after all the things I said to you. I...I put you here.."

For a moment you were quiet, and you sighed softly. "Tell me something..does it look like I still hate you?" You gently pushed him back a little, allowing him to sit up and look at you.

His face was a mess of snot and tears, bangs sticking to his skin, yet he did his best to study your expression through blurred vision. But all he could manage was a shrug, lips trembling as he tried to keep them closed, afraid he'll start bawling if he spoke again.

Arceus, he felt so pathetic right now.

He swore he was done being that crybaby kid from Kitakami. He should be comforting you instead.

But he couldn't help it.

"I don't hate you. And I never did." Pulling him back into a hug, you felt him return it this time. You just rubbed his back soothingly and rested your chin on his bare shoulder. "But I know you had your reasons for hating me. And...I wanna say I'm sorry, too. For lying, for betraying your trust..for making you think you're weak. I never should have undermined you."

"I-I forgive you, [y/n]. Just...don't ever do something like that again. I don't wanna lose you---uwaaahaaaa!!!"

"I promise, that's the last time." Tears brimmed your eyes as you held him close, glad that he was finally able to reconcile and make things right.

Both of you wish that it didn't take a near-death experience at the bottom of Area Zero and a week-long coma to make that happen...

But you don't regret what you did.

You'd endure another Tera Blast if it meant keeping him safe.

[podcastenthusiast]

Dead Boy Detectives Fic Rec List

Mostly payneland <3 I will update as I find more fics.

“I don’t like this, mate,” Charles muttered.

The Things We Can, and Cannot, Do by MDJensen

Paul Rowland is dead. It's not just that, though.

Oh, Lonely Bones, Have You Forgotten? by DontOffendTheBees

“No,” Edwin agreed, gravely. “Nor do I.”

Frankly, taking this case was probably an unwise decision. The meagre payment offered by the sickly-looking ghost of the old groundskeeper would fall far, far short of the emotional cost of the expedition. And yet when Edwin had looked over to Charles and met his eyes, there had been no doubt, no hesitation. Perhaps it was the notion of unfinished business; that mysterious force that compelled ghosts to sites of personal trauma as sirens compelled sailors to the unforgiving rocks. Perhaps they were both mere gluttons for punishment.

Either way, they were here now. It was with heavy hearts and wary eyes that on the evening of June twenty-sixth, Edwin and Charles – along with Crystal – set foot once more on the grounds of St. Hilarion's School for Boys.   In which a very, very old case is re-opened.

Mom Says It's My Turn to Jump on the Grenade by RoseGanymede95

Charles tried to pay attention, because Edwin was really upset, and Charles still didn’t understand why, and it seemed like this might be important. It was just, they’d been at this for a while, and Edwin kept asking him the same questions and not leaving him time to answer, so. His mind may have wandered a bit to how he would reinforce the next cricket bat. His attention snapped back to the present when Edwin said, “This can’t happen. You can’t risk this, I can’t be the reason you risk it. You have to move on.” “Move on?” Charles repeated blankly. “Move on from what?” “From here, Charles!” Edwin shouted, suddenly furious again, suddenly shouting even though his eyes were filled with tears. “You have to go with Death! You have to leave!” “I don’t want to go with Her,” Charles said, nonplussed. “Fine, that’s your business, but you can’t keep hanging around me!” Edwin snapped. Charles’ world suddenly tilted on its axis, sending everything askew. “I can’t?” he asked, his voice small, his heart wide open and exposed.

Let me bleed instead of you by mellxncollie

The question rang like a cracked bell in what had only just become someplace Edwin had started to contemplate calling home. “What was Hell like?” - Charles and Edwin keep secrets from one another. The list isn't long, but it's not empty. Eventually, they start tumbling out in soft whispers, in tear-reddened eyes, in shocked expressions, in choked up phrases.

Or, 40 years and 8 secrets.

Indelible by Arisprite

Charles is feeling a lot and also not much at all in the immediate aftermath of returning from Hell. He also can tell Edwin is wearing thin from holding himself together. Who wouldn't be, after that? It's okay, though. Charles can take care of him, and he always always will.

Done Running by Asidian

Charles has gone a peculiar off color, all the blood blanched from his cheeks. He glances to the arm, and then back up to Edwin's face. "Any break's a bad break, innit?"

"Some have more drawbacks than others," says Edwin, detached and scholarly. "For instance, unless the nerves are compromised, it is possible to make use of the injured arm in cases of extreme –"

"Bloody hell," breathes Charles.

Joi de Vivre by olympus_mons

Edwin Payne crawls out of Hell twice. Somehow, his problems begin in the aftermath.

so many ways to give in by piilu

“I think there’s something really wrong with me, mate,” Charles sobs, the remains of the bat falling from his hand. ---- Charles struggles with his anger issues. Again.

A Room of One's Own by DarkStars (Worlds_Okayest_Goalie)

Crystal is so tired of watching Charles and Edwin stare longingly at each other. OR 5 times Crystal tells Charles and Edwin to get a room and 1 time they do.

Shape Me by dearheartdont

At least twice a year Charles and his mum packed their cases and caught a train to Birmingham, leaving his dad behind with a freezer full of carefully labelled Tupperware.

Charles Rowland and his relationship with his extended family and heritage.

(Part of a series of snapshots of Charles’ life in the 1980s.)

half of my soul, as the poets say by thegirlofthorns

Edwin existed, just as Charles had. Charles, who occupied a space in loving memory. A much-deserved space – Edwin would have wanted it no other way – but the core of him wanted to scream that he had been here, too. He never would be again, but he had lived, and he had breathed and laughed and moved with too much frippery and frill to continue on breathing, and he had been a whole person, once. And it had not mattered. So looked at CHARLES ROWLAND through tears, allowed himself to. Even Charles's hammer on metal on stone was not enough to dull the pain, but it was enough to remind him that he was still here, even if he was no longer living. It was an awful sound, a jarring sound, and tears shone in Charles’s eyes as he focused intently on carving out the A in his surname, but it was something. They were there, together, and they were feeling.

- Or, Charles finds Edwin's unmarked grave and will, in the lightest of terms, not be having it.

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, and Very Bad by hibye

It was about the torture. The torture he was experiencing presently, and also every minute of every hour of every day, standing alongside Edwin Payne and saying nothing out of the ordinary at all.

O Spirit From The Great Beyond! by InTwainFiction

Edwin is ignoring Charles.

They haven't spoken in almost twelve hours, and all because of a little incident involving some puppies. Yes, said incident may have been Charles' fault, but he has apologised a million times.

Charles is getting desperate to find a way to get Edwin to talk to him again, and a little walk away from the office provides just the thing Charles needs.

He hopes it will get Edwin to talk to him, but at the very least it will be a laugh.

a beautiful day to say goodbye by ofstitches

“The house is… sad,” the client responds.

“Again, we can’t help with selling the house. Maybe try some decorations. That’ll brighten the old place up,” Charles suggests.

“No, you misunderstand. The house doesn’t look sad. The house is sad. It is depressed.”

“How do you figure?” Edwin says, sitting up in his chair now that the client has said something potentially interesting.

or A new case brings up old feelings, and maybe something more.

A Heaven Like They Talk About by LikeMmCookies

After managing to piss off yet another witch, Edwin and Charles are cursed as punishment. Bewildered, powerless, and lacking answers, they face their greatest challenge yet: being human again.

With Edwin doing novel things like picking out shampoo and wearing different pants, Charles finds his body reacting in strange ways to his best friend. He questions if these are new feelings, or if they'd been there all along.

But the biggest question remains - do they stay alive or do they find a way to go back?

being unknown by The_IPRE

Edwin does know Charles, or at least he likes to think that he does. He knows that Charles is far better with the clients than he is, quick to offer a smile or extend sympathy while Edwin is far more interested in delving deeper into the details of the case. He knows that Charles has a wicked swing with his cricket bat, but prefers to leave that as a second resort when he believes there's a way for them to come to a compromise. He knows that Charles chooses to hope for the best from people, even after having seen the worst they have to offer–and in fact, having been killed by it.

As Charles sits in front of him, the strain in his shoulders at odds with the easy grin on his face, Edwin wonders how much of his friend he is failing to see. -- 5 times Edwin didn't press the issue, and one time he did.

The Kind of Light That Means Just Love (When My Baby Smiles at Me) by DontOffendTheBees

“Charles,” Edwin admonished, gently closing his book with a finger tucked between the pages to hold his place. “I have asked you to stop fooling around with that contraption and get some work done.”

“I have been!” Charles defended, gesturing broadly at the higgledy-piggledy array of items around him. Evidently, taking stock of the contents of his bag of tricks was an expansive task. “Taking a break.” He snatched the small square of paper from the Polaroid camera and began to shake it with abandon.   In which Charles partakes in some amateur ghost photography, and Edwin (fondly) bemoans the futility of the exercise.

The Good Left Undone by plutosheaven

Help comes from unlikely places when Edwin is once again faced with a threat worse than death.

the phantoms here will never have their fill by ahyperactivehero (ahyperactiverhero)

Poltergeists are created when a ghost experiences extreme emotional distress. Poltergeists are notoriously hard to reign in, and they almost never gently move on. Neither Edwin nor Charles ever imagined it would happen to them.

Basically, five times where the Dead Boy Detective Agency dealt with the threat of a poltergeist.

XXX

“Once you choose to go down the poltergeist route there is no coming back,” Edwin said. “And I will have no choice but to follow you.”

“You can’t do that mate,” Charles said. His voice had cleared up some, his form less wavy.

“Then do not go where I cannot follow,” Edwin said.

Form 239, Schedule L by sanctuary_for_all

At the top of a small pile of papers was a copy of Form 239, Schedule L, filled out with achingly familiar handwriting. At the top, the word "Approved" was stamped in large red letters.

This Darkness, Enduring by kickingtheladder

“Your son is gone,” they tell her. “It was… an Act of God.”

She cannot think of a single thing to say for a very long moment. And then she has many things to say, most of which are not at all appropriate for polite company. --- Edwin Payne's mother, before and after.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by kickingtheladder

“Your son is gone," they tell her. "He ran away." She doesn't say anything. --- Charles Rowland's mother, afterwards.

dreaming of the things you said / hoping that it's meant by ohmyfuckinggod420

Edwin turns away with a deep breath, ignoring the fluttering in his stomach. His non-existent, ghostly stomach. It seems so ridiculously cruel and on theme for his current situation. Not only is he in love with his best friend, and not only does his best friend not love him back, but he’s feeling things that he shouldn’t be feeling on top of things that he physically should not be able to feel. or

The gang is back in London. Niko is gone, Crystal is on the cusp of a breakdown, Charles is still a flirt, and Edwin is... trying his best.

Oh, and he keeps feeling his pulse. As a ghost. A very dead ghost.

The trouble really never ends.

the ghost of the past that you live in by ObsessedWithFandom

It didn’t start as much. As anything, really. Charles noticed him in the hallways only because he was new, which was rare in Year 11, and because he smiled shyly whenever Charles said hi. Aysar, he’d introduced himself, and Charles liked the way the syllables formed in his mouth. He wanted to be Aysar’s friend.

Or: five boys Charles didn't date, and one he did.

Aftermath by sophisticatedyet

“What are you humming?”

Charles’ polo muffled his question, and the pause before Charles answered was so long that Edwin wondered if he hadn’t heard him at all. But then he said, "A lullaby.”

The answer made Edwin smile bemusedly. “Why? I can't fall asleep.”

“Yeah, duh, I know. It's just meant to soothing.”

“Oh.” Edwin rested his head back against Charles’ chest. “I suppose I do feel quite soothed.”

Dance the Night by Gruoch

“What is that?” Crystal asks, looking Edwin up and down with an expression of abject befuddlement that borders on disgust.

“It is my disguise,” Edwin replies a little stiffly in response to her tone. “You told me to wear a disguise.”

“You look like Margaret Thatcher,” Crystal says flatly. “You’re going undercover at a nightclub, not a library. This—“ she plucks at Edwin’s long tweed skirt, her lip curling— “is not appropriate nightclub attire. You’re gonna attract too much attention.”

“I thought attracting attention was the point of this ludicrous exercise,” Edwin snaps back.

“Yes, the right kind of attention,” Crystal stresses. “This—” she waves a hand broadly at him—“will get the wrong kind of attention.”

~~

In which the gang returns home to discover something sinister stalking London’s party scene after dark, Edwin lets his hair down, Charles’ confidence is shaken, and Crystal pursues a new lease on life (and hopefully doesn’t die in the process).

Everywhere, Everything (wanna love you) by WildCookieKeef

Freedom, as it seems, is suffocating. Decades spent running away from death herself and yet now more than ever does Edwin feel restless. Hell is behind him for the second time. He might’ve escaped his fate of eternal torture, but rabidly approaching are revelations he would’ve kept buried for far longer.

He’d never be so flustered and disorganized if it hadn’t been for Crystal or the Cat King or Monty or the Night Nurse or that horrible witch Esther or Simon, god not Simon, or practically reenacting old Greek tales with his best mate or. . .

No. It’s no one’s fault but his own. If he could sleep he’s sure he’d have nightmares.

Of what? There’s lots to choose from, but he can just feel it. Maybe some spirit malady has taken root in his body. He can sense the tension under his skin. Aches of pain that he knows aren’t physical.

He never should’ve told Charles. What was he thinking?

or After the end of S1, Edwin reasons that Charles rejected his confession and fears the worst while trying to suffer silently. Charles is very bad at letting Edwin suffer in peace.

the eight layers of hell, reversed by Zairielon

There's a lot that Edwin and Charles don't talk about. Frankly, after 30 years together, you don't have to say much for the other person to get the point. But Port Townsend and Crystal and Niko knocked their dynamic off-kilter, and by the time they return to London and finally get back to "normal," "normal" has changed. "Normal" is now Crystal's bright laughter, Niko's earnest affection, and Edwin's faint smiles. "Normal" is an unnameable ball of emotions tangled up in Charles' chest. "Normal" is Edwin looking at him, and Charles hearing those words all over again.

Charles, I'm in love with you.

OR, Charles figures out what it means that Edwin is the only person in the world he'd run into Hell for.

When We Walk Together We Tend To Walk Alone by UneducatedAuthor

She’s never unexpected, but she’s always a surprise. And when Charles meets her, it's nothing like the nightmare he's built up in his own head, being split away from Edwin and cursed to an afterlife without him. She's kind and gentle and familiar, and she gives him a chance to say goodbye to his mother.

Or, the one where Charles meets Death. They have a lot to talk about. But it's okay. They have time.

it's you that i hold on to by lrvzender

A pair of lips press shakily on his temple. Charles Rowland’s blood definitely runs hot, Edwin decides, definitely.

“You’re not asking anything, mate. But you have to understand that you are worth saving, a thousand times over. You are worth knowing, Edwin.”

Something bigger than the whole, wide sky. Something bigger than death, perhaps.

(where Edwin does not ask to be known, but Charles knows anyway)

and your song, it haunts me like hunger does the crow by kay_cricketed

After they return to London, Charles notices an escalation in people approaching Edwin with their attentions. Which is fine! It's not that Charles is jealous. He wants Edwin to be happy and to have a chance at a fulfilling relationship, yeah? The problem is, Charles is aware that Edwin is unpracticed with these kinds of emotions and other people, and it would be very easy for someone to take advantage. And that’s not going to happen, not on Charles’ watch.

To make matters worse, the admirers are getting a little too intense. And Charles is starting to suspect there's more at work than everyone realizing his best mate is brills.

(Or: In which the damage to Edwin's soul across years of torture has had an unusual effect, and Charles needs to fix it before he's compelled to violence. Again.)

trína chéile, le chéile, claochlaithe / entangled, together, transformed by theroyalsavage

Edwin Payne and Charles Roland are not Orpheus and Eurydice. They are not tragic figures of myth, children of gods and spirits, immortalized in verse by the poets of old. They’re nothing special at all – just two boys too stubborn to move on. With that said, however… Edwin must admit that there are certain similarities.

Came up from that lake of fire by ghostinthelibrary

"Are you a zombie?” Niko peers into Edwin’s eyes. “Because the Night Nurse told me zombies exist. Do you hunger for brains, Edwin?”

“Hardly.” Remembering being splattered with gray matter in the not-so-distant past, Edwin shudders. He cannot imagine consuming it. “I’m not a zombie.”

“What about a vampire?” She almost looks excited by the prospect. “We’re only a couple of hours from Forks. It would be perfect!””   When they’re caught during their escape from Hell, Charles and Edwin have no choice but to make a deal: they have one hundred days to find and entrap a powerful, malevolent spirit, or both of their souls are forfeit. But when they’re both temporarily restored to living bodies to aid in their search, being alive brings with it a host of new feelings, which neither of them know how to cope with, especially as their deadline looms closer and their quarry proves increasingly dangerous.

Unbreakable by Asexual_Enjolras

Edwin feels as though he owes Charles an apology because he cannot offer support to his best friend in the same way that Crystal can. And Charles tells him exactly where to stick that apology the moment he does.

Or, Edwin feels like he is broken and Charles does not agree.

after the insects have laid their claim by lolotr

“Where are you buried, do you’ve any idea?”

“My body was never found,” he replies softly. “There is a memorial marker next to my parents’ graves, but my remains are not there.”

The idea is so horrifying that it stuns Charles into silence for a couple seconds. “I didn’t know that. Why didn’t I know that?”

Edwin’s shoulders tense. “The whole thing is bloody tragic enough as it is.”

Grabbing his wrist, Charles begins marching them back in the direction of the pond they used to get here. Edwin doesn’t resist, but he does argue, because of course he does. “Charles, where are we going?”

“St. Hilarion’s. We’ve got a new case, don’t we?”

Hold This by RoseGanymede95

“Alright, listen,” Charles said, after trying not to think at all for at least five minutes. “Hear me out.”

“Any ideas?” Edwin asked, not looking up from his page.

“It’s just. What would actually happen if you cut my hand off?”

Edwin jerked his head up so fast, Charles wondered that he didn’t brain himself against the stone wall. He looked more offended than he had when he found out about the live snake in Charles’ bag.

“What the hell kind of a question is that?” He hissed.

“I’m not saying we should do it!” Charles backpedaled. “I’m just curious! These cuffs make us proper solid, don’t they? We could probably lop it off and get me out.”

“No,” said Edwin emphatically. “We are not discussing this. I don’t want you getting any ideas and chewing your own arm off like a trapped weasel.”

“Not my whole arm, just my hand.”

the start of something beautiful (the spoiler-free remix) by KiaraSayre

Four cases from the Dead Boy Detectives casebook, featuring amnesia, corporeality, a time loop, and a chill hang sesh.

If I'm Batman, You're Robin by ahyperactivehero

Charles misses a lot of things from life. One of those is the movies. Edwin volunteers to go with him.

XXX

“Batman Returns?” Edwin asked, reading the title. “What sort of creature is a Batman?”

Charles couldn’t help the bark of a laugh he let out. “No, he’s not a creature, mate. He’s a superhero.” At the totally blank look on Edwin’s face he tried again. “He’s like a detective. But he fights crime with his fists, too.”

“Ah,” Edwin said with a knowing look. “One of your heroes, I see.”

offer me that deathless death by websters_lieb

It takes the better part of two days for Charles’s body to even be found, and in the end, Edwin is forced to turn on all the lights in the gymnasium attic where Charles had died in order to get a janitor to come upstairs. No one had even been looking for him, yet. - or Edwin and Charles attend a funeral, look for a gravestone, and decide to become detectives.

Edwin's Payne tolerance by RabidWatermelon

Charles knew Edwin had a high pain tolerance. How could he not, having endured the tortures of hell? He just didn’t expect it to be so… useful.

AKA I want to write drabbles about Edwin's pain tolerance because I think it's something that would come up over thirty years together and be mildly concerning to someone who went through abuse in life. No fixed plot or posting schedule. Will update tags as chapter come out w new content.

The Case of Edwin's Missing Notebook by thewalkingstone

Edwin forgot his notebook at the office.

Not a problem. He prided himself on having an excellent memory. He certainly liked to jot down notes as he worked, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t work without it. He would just have to remember things until they returned to the office.

It was fine. He was a professional, and professionals did not delay an investigation because they forgot their notebook. OR Just months after escaping Hell, Edwin accidentally forgets his notebook on a case. He does not handle it well. Luckily, his new best mate is there to help him out.

The Scenic Route by DontOffendTheBees

"Cheer up, Edwin," said Charles, brightly. "Might never happen."

Edwin gave Charles a look so haughty it had its own title. "It very much has happened, Charles." He sniffed and straightened out his newspaper with attitude, the rustle of it loud and sharp as a whip crack. "I don't see why we couldn't have simply hopped through the mirror and met Crystal there."

"At this point, Edwin, I'm in total fucking agreement," said Crystal, not opening her eyes. She was burrowed under her coat like a blanket, doing her best to make the uncomfortable upright seat look like a cosy bed. Fortunately this train car was basically empty, so she had space to stretch across two seats – and no one close by to comment on the floating newspaper across the table and the fact she was having a barney with it. "You're like, the worst person to travel with."   In which the agency takes the scenic route to their next case; and Edwin finally receives some answers he's been waiting for.

what some circumstance stole by Chrome

For a magic-user intent on siphoning pain for power, both Hob Gadling and Edwin Payne represent unique opportunities. United in dire circumstances, a man incapable of dying and a boy long dead forge an unusual friendship--and try to survive the experience. --- “When you died,” Hob said. “How old were you?” “Sixteen.” “That,” Hob said, “Is awful.” Edwin shrugged. “Life is, I’m afraid,” he said. “Can be wonderful, too,” Hob said. “I promise.”

[snowsinterlude]

Hellfire. (priest coriolanus × temptress reader)

summary: coriolanus was the priest of panem's church, and god knew how many times he had knelled up praying for you to stop teasing him.

c.w: sub!priest coryo, temptress reader, dacryphillia, overstimulation, religious mention, mentions to christianity, dom!reader (kinda), confessionary sex, details of sex and imagery

w.c: 1.849

you were so mean to him. how could you do all those things knowing he was a priest? it was a devil's work. you were possessed! at least, that's what he thought.

you weren't a religious person. on the contrary, you were an atheist. the cross hanging on your neck between your breasts? well, it was an accessory. it's not your fault they have such a pretty aesthetic, with all those pretty paintings and etc. if it's pretty, you want it.

and that rule applied to the priest in front of you, reading the bible out loud while ignoring your eyes and your red painted lips.

he had tried before, you know? he tried to bring the word of god to you, he tried to make you come (not in the way you desired) to your senses, he read the bible multiple times to you, the passages saying that you were not supposed to desire something that is not yours, especially a priest!

but if he didn’t want it too, then why haven't he publicly called you out? why haven't he exposed you to the high society of Panem, that hated sluts like you so much?

to you, the answer was simple and clear as crystal water; he wanted you.

you just needed to help him see it.

sitting straight on the confessionary, you had your legs crossed while your fingers played with the cross on your neck, kissing it knowing damn well he was seeing it through the small holes on that window-looking-thing separating you two.

"bless me father, for I have sinned multiple times." you begin, your voice too sweet for him to think straight. "this is my first confession."

"tell me, my child, what is it that weighs on your heart so much?" he didn’t notice how hoarse his voice sounded, but you didn’t care, it made him look cute on your most sincere opinion.

"the man i want is not supposed to be mine, father." you said, playing along with it. if that was the only way you had to make him get on his knees then so be it.

"is he married, my child?"

"you know he isn't." you said, almost chuckling at how nervous he was. you could feel it, see it, imagine it.

"and how could i know such a thing?" he asked. but you know that he knew. and he did. that's why his palms were so sweaty.

"ah, father," you groaned, your voice sounded so malicious that he tensed up even more. "i want that man so much- i can't stop imagining him with me night after night, and god i can't stop thinking about how he would look on his knees in front of me and-"

"on his knees?"

"yeah, father. he would look so pretty, you know?" he didn’t. he didn’t know. he couldn't know and he wasn't supposed to know. "i want him to cry for me, i want him to devour me and- ah, i can't stop thinking about how he would cry so much knowing that it's wrong. i want him to cry. i need to see him crying from pleasure and guilt."

"that's wrong, too wrong, my child." he said, his cock throbbing painfully from your words. he shouldn't want it. nor desire it. "but if you repent-"

"i don't. i don't feel the smallest bit of shame or guilt for wanting him, father."

"you should. he's a married man and-"

"he's not married."

"he's married to god."

"i can be his god." that was terrible. that was when you got up from the confessionary seat, walking over to the door he was. and he looked so pretty when you closed the door behind you two, his eyes tearing up while he felt cornered like a lamb in a wolf's sight. "if he's on his knees to me, then me and god are equal, isn't it?"

"no. that's not right. you're wrong, he'd never get on his knees for you- he shouldn't." his voice was shaky and the beads of sweat on his forehead were rolling down rapidly, getting a smirk to show on your lips.

it didn't happened too quick as he wished it did. suddendly your lips were on his and you had him on his knees, all while he cried out from guilt and pain. the pain from knowing that god was watching him.

"heaven help me," he prayed, his hands trembling just like his lips as your hand found his dick, "please don't- don't do this. that's wrong, you can't- i can't!"

"then why aren't you pushing me away? you had all the chances to make me stop this and you know it." you said, palming his cock through the liturgical vestment. "you could've exposed me, you could've pushed me away and you could've called me out publicly for wanting to fuck a priest. but you're here. you're on his knees with your cock pointing up and- woah, is it wet? you came already?" your laugh was deliciously teasing for him, but the tears on his eyes rolling down his cheeks were more than delicious for you.

"no! i-" he groaned in between the tears once you grabbed his dick, pumping it so slowly that the tears on his cheeks ran faster. his face hid itself on your shoulder, and fuck, the way your cunt got soaked up when his hand touched your waist made you smile. "j-just get it over with, please." and you didn't.

when he came, your panties were pushed aside while your skirt was rolled up and his nose was brushing deliciously against your clit while his tongue licked you up and down and sucked on you. you didn't have the heart to teach him how to do it right because he was already pleasing you. and that was how you were moaning his name in a manner oh so impure, your eyes closed shut with your hand on your lips, his cum was on that hand. you were too lewd. how could you be so perverted?

you pulled his hair back to pull him away, not wanting to cum on his mouth, and then, when you thought it couldn't get better and he couldn't get prettier, your wetness was running down his chin and he licked it. he licked it. you made sure to burn this scene on your brain just from how delicious it was.

"take off my bra."

"you're wearing one?" he frowned. and he knew that wasn't supposed to be his question, his question was supposed to be 'why are you doing this to me?', but he was so dizzy with the taste of your pussy on his lips that he felt dumb.

"ah.. you're right." you chuckled, pulling the straps of your blouse down, giving him a sight of your boobs, and he hated his own body for the way his cock twitched just at the sight of it and the way he felt like salivating on your nipples.

you were on his lap now, decided to let him seat cause being on his knees for so long with your weight on his lap could be troublesome and even painful for him. your pussy grinded on his cock deliciously, the small moans he let out were more lewd than yours, and that's when you felt something itch the inside of your brain, your hand meeting his cheek and smiling when you felt his cock throbbing against you, the sight of his tears were so good you couldn't help but lick them off his cheek.

"what was that for?" he cried out

"sorry. you sounded so slutty i decided to treat you like one." you chuckled. and he bit your shoulder now, muffling his own moans with your skin while drooling on your shoulder and sucking it. his cries were too pleasant for you to stop frictioning on him.

"why are you doing this to me?" finally, he asked it. and you smiled, kissing his lips in a filthy wet kiss were your tongue laced his in a war that he wasn't supposed to enjoy, his hips thrusting upwards wanting to feel the warmth of your core already. it was tortuous. you liked it.

"i told you already, silly. it's because i want you." you whispered, kissing his tears and you grounded your hips on him again, this time, your hand was directing his cock into you and that was just what happened. he was finally inside you.

"no- ah, for heaven's sake!" he moaned. he couldn't help it anymore, his hips thrusting upwards while you laughed at his indecency.

"woah, you're so eager for a priest."

"shut up." he growled, engulfing your boob on his mouth while his free hand massaged the other, rolling your nipple and pinching it. you couldn't seem to have other reaction other than moan and bounce on his cock, going up and down and back and forth on him in such a delicious manner that his hand went from your boob to your ass, slapping it. "god knows you tempted me."

"it was your choice to be here." you said, kissing him before pulling him against your boobs again, and god, who knew he could simply press your boobs together and suck them all at once? it was delicious.

your walls gripped and squeezed on him, it was a warning that soon, very soon, you would be cumming too. you knew he have cummed already and he was just as sensitive as you, cause he came not only on your hands but on his pants when he was eating you out. and you? you haven't came, you denied cumming on his mouth cause you wanted to cum on his cock.

and it happened, you shaked a bit, skin shivering while you came around his cock, the view was too deliciously perverted for anyone in their right minds to see. there was a white bubbling circle your pussy made on his cock.

you were so wrong when you thought he'd cum at the same time as you. he didn't. he fucked you more, for the longest ten minutes you could remember and maybe more.

he grabbed your hips to make you bounce up and down on him, and you could feel the electric feeling of his balls slapping on your cunt. then, and just then, did he came, rope after rope and you came again too. a rough and aggressive groan leaving his mouth while he nipped on your nipples.

"i hate you." he growled, too fucked out to take his dick out of you.

"your... your dick doesn't seem to agree." you said, breathless.

"you're such a whore." you smiled, kissing his forehead and the tears, result of the overstimulation you did on him, on his cheeks.

"you came inside this whore." you teased, and he cried more.

and those encounters never seemed to stop. he said it was the first and last time, but it has passed a month already and on every sunday you were on the confessionary with him, fucking his brains out.

[porcalinecunt]

Hello! Ur writing is so amazing!❤️❤️ may I request brat tamer levi ackerman🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️

𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄!

🪽 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wanna be a brat? brace the consequences ! ʚ♡ɞ

·˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐗 𝐆𝐍! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

cw — reader’s genitalia is not specified. mean dom! levi spanking. impact play. manhandling. hair pulling. anal fingering(?). edging. some degrading.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : hi nonie! tysm for the compliment! you’re too kind :’3 levi is a hard character for me so i hope i did him justice. 🤍 anyways, this will be my last fic before i start grinding on my batfamily fics! so please enjoy! <3

₊˚ෆ BRAT TAMER! LEVI is a rarity you have to seek out for yourself, as unfortunately for your cute little head, the man holds more patience then normal. most annoyances you cause like obnoxious whining or prying at his belt often results in him either brushing you off or a slight chuckle at your feble attempts (not that you’re complaining about the last one..)

₊˚ෆ BRAT TAMER! LEVI however, has his own limits. he won’t tolerate you misbehaving in public or in front of mutual friends nor will he handle you disobaying explicit rules he grounded you in. it’s a constant game of how far you can go just to see levi snap and unleash his pent up frustration onto your poor body. luckily for you, it happened to be one of his more..stressful evenings. despite the crystal clear warning, you pressed and pressed just for a drop of attention. you pouted, begged and touched the crotch of his pants, anticipation his reaction while his eyebrows twitched and his jaw clenched.

₊˚ෆ BRAT TAMER! LEVI finally reached his fucking limit, dragging you by the wrist while you bite back a smile. levi is not a forgiving man, commanding you to strip out of those loose pijamas until you had nothing but your frilly socks on. not only is he pissed, but his strength is near frightening, effortlessly manhandling you like a ragdoll until you were bent over his knee. you whined like a bitch in heat, only for levi to yank you by the hair and force your head towards him. “you keep you mouth shut or i’ll fuck it raw, got that?” safe to say, your lips were pressed tightly together.

₊˚ෆ BRAT TAMER! LEVI is a spanker, period. with your ass high up and your knees held down, levi raised his hand high and struck down on the sensitive flesh. no counting, no breaks, only continuous slapping and squeezing in a painful rhythm. a loud twack! jolted you upwards, only for you to be forced back down as tears stained your face. you could only cry and moan pathetically, weakly saying his name like a mantra you can’t let go of. twack! twack! twack! pain became arousal as you began to rub your thighs together, something levi caught onto in a heartbeat.

₊˚ෆ BRAT TAMER! LEVI scoffed, forcing your thighs apart until he pressed a finger against your asshole. you looked back with a gasp as he brought two fingers into his mouth, lubricating them with his own spit, then rubbing circles around your wet hole. levi was no stranger to anal, yet it never failed to have you tense in anticipation. “mmm..levi..” you moaned. “fuck me..please! i-i can’t wait any lo—AH!” the lingering pleasure was ripped away, only to be replaced with another sting of levi’s strikes. the one time he allowed mercy, you already went back to being a mindless brat in a fucking heartbeat. pathetic.

“want me to fuck you? tear this pretty ass open? then hold the fuck still, minx. until you learn, you aren’t getting shit.”

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.