#anymore of his corpse and I will sob forever

[rookanisstuff]

Ooh it’s got a little kick to it 😦

[merakiui]

i miss sk!floyd sm 😔 i wanna be nonconned by him so BADLY where it starts off super rough and then turns into the most soft, sickeningly sweet lovemaking ever

i want him to wipe my tears n kiss me n keep going even when it’s tm and i clearly want it to stop ❤️

Ohhhh,,, sk Floyd who fucks you while he’s still all bloody from a kill,,, maybe it was your partner he killed, whether a lover or just a one-night stand. It makes him sad that his Shrimpy was so impatient and couldn’t wait until he got out of jail, but it’s okay. You don’t need to pretend to fall apart on some loser’s shrimp dick anymore. He’s here for you.

The absolute horror of being half-naked and maybe even covered in warm blood…. your lover’s corpse mangled on the floor, staining your floor in deep, sticky gore. >_< the room smells so thickly of death and you think you might vomit, but you stagger out of bed in hopes of getting away from Floyd, to the phone to call the police, or maybe even outside. You need to run, but of course your fear makes you significantly clumsy and you’re caught easily by him. Floyd who hoists you back onto the bed while you kick and scream and thrash like a wild animal. He just grins down at you, sadistic glee flashing in those predatory eyes of his. </3

Look at how cute you are, trying to hide your face and get away from him. He just drags you right back towards him. >:) roughly bullying his way into your pussy, cooing at you about how much he’s waited for this, how he’s so thrilled to finally hold his Shrimpy in his arms. You’re so warm and wet, all for him. And you’re sobbing and begging him to pull it out, but why would he do that? Gently cradling your cheek with a bloody hand, each painful thrust mellowing out into something syrupy and slow.

Hugging you to his chest as he fucks (makes love to) you, wanting to savor this moment forever. He’ll kiss all over your face and murmur all kinds of obsessive thoughts he’s had while in prison. If he was upset about you sleeping with another person, he’s not anymore. Now the two of you are finally together. He couldn’t be any happier. >w< and you’ll be happy, too. As soon as you stop crying and saying all those silly things. Let you go? Why? He just got here and he intends to stay. :)

Inspecting your pussy in the aftermath, too. >:D spreading your folds to see all of the cum spilling out. He giggles and pushes it back in with slick fingers. “You think this is enough for a baby?” You dread to imagine it. >_<

[windssong]

if it’s any comfort to you // Astarion x gnTav

summary: Sometimes, a simple gesture is enough to soothe a landslide.

word count: 1k+

tags: angst, fluff, hurt comfort

authors note: just a little something I wrote at 3 am lol

—

The moment his cloak caught on an arrow protruding from a dead body, you knew you were unraveling.

The body was an Absolute follower. You didn’t know him. Never even spoke to him. Never knew his name. But his blood was on Astarions clothes now. The arrow ripped a hole in the black cloak. Crimson soaked up the fabric, desperate to stitch it back together in its making.

You didn’t know how long you stood there staring at frozen eyes and his tattered clothing. It could’ve been forever for all you knew. Funny, that forever never set those aching bones of yours right, or stopped your heart from caving in at the mere glance of a dead man on the floor.

“I never thought I’d see the day when someone won a staring contest against a corpse.” Astarion tapped his boot on the ground, avoiding the pile of blood around them. “You always manage to do the impossible.” His eyes met yours with a warm smile.

The blood splattered across his face wasn’t his, but that didn’t stop your mind from spiraling into a place where that was a possibility.

Astarion looked at the arrow piercing his cloak. “They did me a favor. Not the prettiest of things.”

He was about to rip the fabric off the body when you knelt to the ground beside him, carefully removing it off the arrow's head.

You said nothing, wanting to avoid his gaze at all cost. All you saw was two dead bodies before you. Astarions light feet followed you up the Moonrise Tower’s steps.

“Are you…” He trailed off, searching for words he wasn’t used to saying. “Alright? Don’t tell me he was a friend of yours, or this will have all been very awkward.”

“No. I don't know him.” You bit the inside of your lip. Let’s move. We need to speak to Jaheira. Then we can get to the gate and Cazador much quicker.”

He nodded. Although you were sure he could hear your heart practically beating out of its chest, demanding a way out even if it had to break bone and skin.

It didn’t want this prison anymore. Bleeding for all those you couldn’t save, and for the ones you still had yet to save.

You turned to his face. A thousand stars twinkled in the corner of his red eyes. A thousand possibilities. Of course, even the undead could die. And that terrified you.

He was counting on you. They were all counting on you.

Even with Ketherics body rotting away, and his Netherstone in hand, you felt cornered. The walls were pressing in. Astarions fingers were slipping from your grasps as they came in closer, crushing him.

A panic attack waved at you from the bottom of a cliff. You were tittering on that edge.

Then, cold hands found yours. Astarion picked up on your shaking body and racing heart beat. He pulled you into a corner, hidden behind a pillar of stone, away from everyone and the aftermath of the Moonrise Tower battle.

You looked up, eyes glistening. Astarion held them. You wondered if he’d ever wipe your tears away one day.

You got your answer when his thumb traced the teardrop falling down your cheek. He stopped it right before it fell to the floor. You looked down at the blood on your boots, thinking of that man’s blood on his cloak.

“Now, we can’t be doing this.” He spoke softly. His thumb remained on your wet skin. The tears mixed with the grime and blood on your face. “You have a job to do.”

“I can’t…” Your voice was as delicate as butterfly wings. “I can’t…”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “You can't do what? Tell them you beat a God and freed these lands? Sounds easy to me.”

There was no more room in your eyes to hold back the dam. Water came raining down, in quiet sobs. “I can’t lose you.” It slipped from your mouth as easily as pixie dust through your hands.

Astarions eyes broke wide open. His mouth twisting in different shapes, not knowing what to say.

That pool of water boiling inside you flowed over. You reached for the end of his cloak, pointing at the tear. “I gave you this, and now it’s all ruined. I just hate to see it all ruined.”

Your unraveling was a slow descent. All the pressure toppled on top of you the moment you locked eyes with a dead stranger. A stranger whose face formed into friends, champions, and lastly your new lover.

Then there was Astarion. Standing as petrified as a stone. He was always so loose, ready to weave himself in and out of any conversation. But there was no way out of this one.

He wanted to kiss you, hold you, take you, yell at you, curse you and leave you all at once.

How dare you start to falter?

He had a monster to kill and be free of. There was no time for weakness.

How dare you show him love?

He was beginning to fall to its knees. There was nothing but time for weakness.

He remembered taking your hand in his, telling you he wanted this. You showed him that there was more to whatever the two of you had than using his body and shoving down his wants and needs. There was something here, and it terrified him.

But, there was a common thread that tied you together that dawned on him. You were scared too. Scared of what this all meant, scared of losing it and losing him.

An overwhelming gush of warmth rushed through him. It was hard not to turn his head in shame and mock it. Like he would always do before.

But he didn’t.

No, he would fight for this.

A small grin found his lips. “Ah, yes. How could I forget?” His fingers brushed over the torn fabric in both your hands. “You found this horrid thing in a Goblin's chest. Didn’t even think twice about tossing it to me.” He paused, remembering that simple yet kind gesture. “Let’s switch.”

Your eyes narrowed, blinking rapidly. “What?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. Then he started taking off his cloak. “You heard me.”

You sighed, too tired to fight or understand his reasoning. “Okay.”

The two of you switched cloaks, now each wearing the others.

Astarion took a step back, taking all of you in. “Oh, that color does suit you far better than me, my dear.”

You wiped at drying tears, letting yourself laugh. “You just wanted an excuse to wear something different, didn’t you?”

“Well, I can't lie my way out of that one.” He smiled, head cocked to the side.

You took a deep breath, coming back to your senses. “Thank you. I lost myself for a moment there. Sometimes… it’s all just too much.” Your face settled back into its stoic state.

They needed your leadership and strength, and you’d give it to them. You could handle the heavy weight of a torn cloak and blood stains. Whatever he didn’t have to carry, was a win for you. He carried quite enough.

Astarion crumbled underneath your gaze. He wondered how you did it. How you came back stronger, each and every time.

He was determined to find out.

He smiled wide. “Come on. I want to hear you describe killing Kethric in every excruciating detail possible. It’ll be fun.”

You laughed, stepping out from the corner and into the large room where Harper’s tended to the dead.

Astarion walked by her side, hand brushing against her own occasionally. He didn’t know what came over him. They were just words. Words didn’t always mean something. Especially coming from him. But these did.

“If it brings you any comfort, I wouldn’t want to lose you either.” He whispered in your ear.

[podcastenthusiast]

Ohhh I just had a terrible thought.

Warning for some unhealthy coping mechanisms (Astarion tries to use sex to dissociate on purpose)

--

Those first fragile hours following Cazador's death are quiet as the grave. Numb. She leads you back to the inn where the others grin with pride and then exchange worried glances they think you don't see.

There is a bath. Warm water and blood washed away. Tentative simple questions--may she touch your hair? Your hands? Your back? The scars ache with residual magic and memory. Her touch is so gentle you want to scream.

Now one of her spare shirts swallows you, her arms enfolding your body as you shake like a thing about to come apart at the seams. The bed is so comfortable it feels wrong. You want to sink into it, into her, disappear forever within yourself to a distant place of no feeling, no pain. And if there's one thing you know, it is that. His voice echoes across your mind unbidden: I made you to be consumed.

Instinct grips you and like a corpse reanimated you surge into motion, reaching for her in desperate need. You kiss her skin, trailing down, teeth grazing her neck. A hand caresses her thigh. You can do this all by muscle memory alone.

"Astarion, wh--what are you doing?"

"Please," you beg, unsteady fingers fumbling with your clothes. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. "I'm ready."

"Are you sure? This is really what you want?"

You nod. You are not sure, not at all. But this is what you need. To be used. Not to be here. Not to be anyone, anymore, just for a little while.

"I don't know if it's a good idea tonight. You're... You need rest, time to process--"

"I need it to stop!"

Silence. Her hand touches yours. Not enticing or lustful, but comforting. You've ruined it, haven't you.

"Need what to stop?" she asks.

"Everything. It's all too much, and I need to...go away, so to speak, which would be most easily achieved by..."

"...having sex with me." She doesn't sound angry, disappointed, or even terribly sad. She is being strong for you. "You never seemed fully present, before."

"Yes and now you know why. It's not your fault, it's never been you. But you can help me! You love helping people."

This time she pulls you closer and for a moment you think you've persuaded her, but she only holds you against her chest. You feel safe, which is unfamiliar. She refuses to see your body purely as an instrument for pleasure. Part of you resents her for it tonight. If only she didn't know you so well.

"I said I'd never let anyone hurt you. That includes me. And yourself," she says. "If you still want sex later, we can talk about it then. I won't become another night you regret."

You do lose time anyway. Drifting back to yourself, you find her bare shoulder wet with tears and it takes an absurdly long time to realize you have been crying. You don't understand. You are finally free of him, truly free. You should be happy.

You try to speak but the words catch on a sob. Your chest feels like it's cracking open.

"Shh, shh," she says. "I've got you, love."

And you believe her.

[heinrixvancunt]

your need grows teeth / dragon age / solas/rook / 3.1k in total / 5/7

written for dreadrook week 2025. @thelighthouse-server

warning for major character death.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Vittoria’s bare hands are slippery with running thick blood.

Solas’s blood.

He's lying on his back on the cold hard ground, abdomen wet with blood and she is pressing her hands on the wound on his stomach, trying to keep his insides actually in.

“Mierda,” she mutters to herself, first softly, then cursing gradually louder until the words are so entangled with each other that it is barely real speech at all.

Her whole body is shaking. Solas's own is still.

She is not a healer or even a mage and her skills as a Crow are not much help in a situation this grave. All she can do is try to stem the bleeding as best as she is able, but it might not be enough. He is already so cold — cold like the dead.

But he isn't. His heart is still beating and pumping blood. His eyes are closed but they keep fluttering open every few moments.

Vittoria breathes in sharply as more blood pulps out of Solas's wound.

“Neve! Emmrich!” she screams over her shoulder but no one answers. The silence is a corpse.

Still, she refuses to give up. It can't end like this. Not now. Not after everything.

Not before they had a real chance to —

She swallows.

“It is of no use,” Solas manages, coughing, “for you to try to save me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Vittoria spits out vehemently. Her ears are ringing, her eyes are wet and her hands would be shaking if they were not pressed so tightly against Solas's sliced gut.

“With… with Elgar'nan imprisoned again,” Solas continues, “the Veil will hold place.” He smiles, looking pained. “You have saved the world once again, Rook. A victory for the ages.”

Vittoria sniffles. “Some victory,” she says, distantly aware that her cheeks are damp with bitter tears.

Solas coughs out a painful sounding chuckle.

“It wasn't supposed to end like this,” Vittoria says.

“How did you picture it ending?” Solas asks, somehow genuinely curious even in a moment like this — a couple of breaths before dying.

“I don't know,” she answers. Then after a hesitation: “Happily.”

“Tell me, Rook,” Solas says, somehow thoughtful even with his gut sliced open, “what would you consider a happy ending?”

One where you don't die in my arms.

“I don’t know,” she says again, and she is not pretending she is not crying anymore.

One of her hands raises to cup his cold cheek and Solas mouth opens one more time and —

then he stills forever. A final god slain.

Vittoria's sob is a scream and she drapes herself over his dead body, clinging to him one last time.

She should have already known that happy endings were never meant for a man like him.

[chocol4tte]

Have I told you guys about a certain wangxian au that was kind of dark?

Where in a certain universe, everything is wrong, WWX did survived the siege with terrible wounds and hid A-Yuan in a tree, unaware that the seal he applied to him fell off and he saw him tumbling towards the cave where his gege works... and follows him.

WWX is dying, he is delirious and weak from blood loss, he hid however he could in a corner invisible to the naked eye and just see how A-yuan is crying while walking towards him. As much as WWX enters into a panic as he sees his son A-Yuan with him, he can't move anymore, there is no strenght in his bones to move a muscle no matter how much he wants to send A-Yuan away.

A-Yuan tries to clean some of WWX's blood from his face with his dirty clothes and just, nestles with the man. WWX dies with a lighter heart by not being completly alone in his last moments.

However, A-Yuan becomes sicker than in canon and just a few hours by resting with WWX's corpse, he develops a fever and just dreams. A-Yuan succumbs to his fever, forever resting with WWX.

Days later, after WWX's cave was robbed of his scrolls and spells, LWJ with fresh wounds from the disciplinary whip, is looking for something... someone, anything! Something that gives him hope. Alas, when he plans to leave the cave, there he sees them, WWX and A-Yuan. LWJ is destroyed by the sight of their corpses, so peacefully resting, he sobs uncontrolably, without holding himself back. How could he? His soulmate, his equal, and the inocent child that brought a small spark of joy in them were no longer in this realm.

He doesn't notice how long he is crying his heart out, yet he somehow gathered enough force to carry both corpses for a proper burial, after that he would play the guqin and make sure that their souls are well rested... and then... and then he would continue living in grief.

LWJ takes them both on his arms and walks, he doesn't have enough energy to fly with Bichen, and with a heavy infection on his back, he just walks. He tumbles and almost falls to the ground constantly, forgoten is his image of a pristine cultivator, he is but a man who feels as if the world already ended and there was almsot nothing else to be there for.

He manages to find another cave, hopefully far away from the Burial Mounds, and leaves WWX and A-Yuan resting together... just when he tries to get up again but he can't, he have exhausted himself to the point of his body refusing to move. He knows he needs to bury them, let them rest and let their souls enter the reincarnation cycle as soon as possible, he knows he has to do this, and yet, he can't move an inch. LWJ closes his eyes just for a brief moment and collapses.

By the time he wakes up, he is disoriented, thirsty, hungry, and with a fever. LWJ glanced at WWX and A-Yuan to his horror, the bodies had began the stage of decomposition. He tries to reach for WWX, for any of the two of them, but his body is so heavy... maybe. Just maybe. He thinks with a heavy heart, maybe he can rest with them, maybe is his time too. A small, selfish part of him just hopes that they are waiting for him.

With great challenges, LWJ manages to stand up and carry the bodies one by one, there in the cave, there is no day or night, no one sect to hunt WWX down for his demonic cultivation, no cultivators hunting little A-Yuan for being a Wen. A cave with no memory their tomb.

They entered to the core of the cave, and there, he sat with WWX in one side and A-Yuan in the other, his fever still making him dizzy and weak, his back burning with an infection that could kill any cultivator. LWJ just talks, or so he thinks he does.

He confesses his feelings for WWX, how, if offered another oportunity he would court WWX correctly, protect him from everyone, possibly adopt A-Yuan and teach him to be a righteous cultivator that exceeds them. If they reincarnate together, LWJ confessed, he would gladly be the ink of his brush, the ribbon that hold his hair, the shadow that accompanied him for the moment WWX would be born, anything, just to be with him just one more time.

Huanguanjun dies sitting with two other corpses, protecting them from the world.

That's it, until his body is found by the Jiang sect months later. They keep quiet of WWX's skeletonized body, however they do report finding LWJ's and a child skeleton to the Lan sect.

LWJ's body rests over a table, ready for a proper burial, LXC is heartbroken by his little brother's death, that he is unaware when LWJ's body rises up with black veins in his neck and walks away, searchign for A-Yuan and WWX's bodies.

I would continue this later, its 2 am and honestly didn't think I would go for a second part, let alone, I don't consider to make this a fic any time soon :,)

[gyaruwrites]

Mine forever <33

shapeshifter/slime Yan

warnings; angst, love obsession disorder, reader is mourning (mentioned), gore description

You realize that your lover was acting a little weird lately they were.. different? They had been acting so flustered around you, they obsessed over you going out when they never did, what happened to the Carefree over that you used to have? And why were theyre pupils sharp and piercing every time you had friends over?

Is what you would’ve asked then before being tied up in a chair in the attic unconscious and gagged. Why were you so blind? Why were you a victim of the shapeshifters feast? Why was your lover’s faceless body in the chair across from you? Why did this creature want to eat you and your lover of all people?

“aren’t you cute ~?”

The figure spoke, your lovers features from the shapeshifters body and face were long gone, a black slimy now in front of you. The figure was about to speak up again before you started to look at them in a angry and disgusted manner.. (bad idea bro)

“wow..! what way to treat your new spouse darling”

Look up at the slimy Shapeshifter and then look across to your now deceased lover, and tears start to form in your eyes as you realize you might have a chance to live, but you have to deal with your lovers murderer. But then again at least had chance to live out your life.. with a human flush eating creature.

“why me? I thought you were going to eat me!”

You shouted angrily as you pry your wet eyes away from the slime in retaliation. The slime did not take your reaction very well and morphed his hand into a knife and walked over to your lover‘s dead corpse and took a little Knick to their skin making the corpse bleed more.

“So darling, the reasons why? Let me tell you.”

Another cut is made to the corpses skin, as the slime continues to speak You can’t help, but not hear them as they see their lovers face ripped off before hand and the dried blood from the flesh as the eye sockets are completely empty and lifeless

“darling!! did you not hear me? It was because I was going to eat you, but you made me fall for you, with your words and pretty face”

The slime coos as they stab the lifeless, bloody, and cold body. The slime grumbles under their breath as they stab the body has you watch in fear. You can’t help but sob quietly as you don’t want to see this anymore you just wanna die on spot from the gruesome scene

“You’re gonna be mine forever <33”

[mapsareforbraindeads]

why jungwon is the only one who can save sunoo from his villain arc.

to start, we need to look at given-taken.

during their stay at the orphanage, sunoo is seen unleashing his vampiric instincts onto jungwon, biting him and turning him into a vampire. this is what kicks off the story, of course, but this is more than a simple bite. this is more than survival.

they’re in a room together, playing alone. this implies an intimacy between them that is absent from the other members. they trust each other, almost to a fault. maybe that’s why sunoo bites jungwon specifically.

everyone else is away. he just needs to spend eternity with his best friend.

sunoo is later seen sobbing and holding a teddy bear he once found comfort in. he’s in the same room as before, but without jungwon in sight.

sunoo has been hurt severely. he has no one to cry to anymore, just the teddy bear that represents the ruins of his childhood. jungwon has left him; a betrayal he won’t recover from. they were supposed to be immortal together, right?

but there’s more to this, because jungwon was the one to lead them out of the orphanage and thus destroy their relationship.

let me explain.

in let me in (20 cube), the cube the members are trapped in symbolizes the orphanage and their inability to live in the outside world. they’re forced to hide; to stay trapped forever.

that is, until jungwon decides to break them out.

jungwon is the first one we see to charge forward towards the edge of the cube. he wants freedom more than anything, no matter the consequences.

so, he wanders and finds the truth that’s escaped the boys for their whole lives: jungwon must bring the members out and destroy the cube they’re stuck inside of.

so he does.

however, this has consequences for sunoo in tamed-dashed (japanese version).

in the ruins of their orphanage, sunoo finds his charred teddy bear: the corpse of the child he once was.

until now, sunoo has followed jungwon’s lead. they’ve been a team. but now his whole life has been uprooted. he wanted to live forever, yes, but that didn’t mean he wanted to destroy the past in favor of the future.

he stares at the bear with silent grief as the others look at him with unsaid judgement. but sunoo must move on. he always has.

onto tamed-dashed (korean version), the members, including sunoo, stumble upon a rugby ball. this ball becomes a new symbol. though, not for sunoo’s innocence. the ball is the companionship the brothers share.

sunoo reaches for the ball as his brothers watch on. he grabs it, looking for a game, or maybe he has never seen it before and is curious, just as jungwon does.

but what impact does this longing for connection have on sunoo?

it burns him as soon as he touches it. hot, searing pain. but the other members do nothing. that seems to be a pattern in sunoo’s eyes.

from this point on, sunoo is alone in tamed-dashed. he dresses in black robes, as if to hide the scars that have come from years of longing.

he stands at the edge of the forest where they found the ball in the first place. he hasn’t moved on. he’s stuck in the place where his brothers watched him burn and did nothing.

but what happened to jungwon?

he keeps a rugby ball in his locker at the high school the boys now occupy. he’s living freely, just as he wanted. he plays rugby with his brothers, always connected to them.

but unlike the others, he feels something amiss with sunoo. he kickstarts a game of rugby. it’s not immediately clear why, until the ball is thrown towards sunoo.

and suddenly, his perspective on the world shifts.

the boys have always been with sunoo. they escaped with him, and followed behind him all this time. he just never thought to forgive, nor to look back.

all because jungwon, the boy he saw as the image of destruction and casualty, extended a hand.

sunoo may have never forgotten what happened at the orphanage, but jungwon never forgot how much he cared for sunoo.

i have more thoughts, but i ran out of space and images to attach lol. feel free to ask questions and message me if you have theories of your own

[megumiwifeyy]

You said you would come back?

Featuring: Megumi x Reader,pure angst ☹️ megumi and reader is in a relationship (reader is dead ) (is my first fine writing an actual fanfic and just pure angst so this will suck and might not make sense ☠️😭) (this is quite based on the song Fourth of July) (gojo and shoko is in the end)

Warnings: Pure angst? Megumi is with your corpse in a morgue room,scars and bruises on reader dead body,megumi and reader is like in their second year in Jujutsu High and like this is my first time writing a angst fanfic so this is probably cringe IM SORRY FORGIVE ME☠️😭 there’s probably grammar mistakes and spelling mistakes..pretend u didn’t see that..

Feel free to reblog and sent request!!

Megumi Anxiously clenched his fist.

He looked at your cold body, scars and bruises all over your body. It was hard to look at.

He was alone in the morgue, Gojo informed him that you..didn’t successfully..finished the mission. After he was informed,he quickly ran to the morgue where Shoko worked in. Now here he is, looking at your dead body. It hurts him.

You fought a special grade curse, you weren’t as strong as the special grade curse of course, you were only a grade 2 sorcerer after all.

Megumi was..mad. Very Mad.

He didn’t get why they didn’t have Yuuta or someone else to go do the mission. Why did they have to have you do the mission instead?

His last memory of you was 2 days before your mission, before your death.

FlashBack:

“I will be fine megs I will come back in no time and make it out alive,I promise!” You spoke, not wanting to worry your boyfriend, you honestly didn’t know would you make it out alive this mission or not.

Megumi gave you a worried look, but he decided to trust you that you will be fine..

You smiled, as you gave him a kiss on the cheeks,as you left to go to your mission. Giving him your finale goodbyes to each other.

End of Flashback

Megumi shouldn’t really have trusted you huh..?

Tears streamed down the boy face. Megumi tired his best to not be loud, as he didn’t want to he heard sobbing quietly.

As he touched your hands, it wasn’t warm anymore. It was Cold.

He couldn’t believe he will lose your warmth, your welcoming smile and your comfort forever. He couldn’t believe he lost you forever.

You promised him that you will come back right? You should be alive and well comforting him right now, scolding him that’s he’s crying and that he shouldn’t.

As Megumi Cried, his sobs got louder and a bit louder per minute.

Meanwhile outside the morgue room..

“The kid is experiencing these type of things around this age is honestly..just sad.” Gojo spoke tiredly, feeling bad for Megumi.

“Don’t act like you didn’t experience something like this with Him before” Shoko replied, lighting up a cigarette as she spoke.

Gojo chuckled softly, as he spoke “yeah, your right.”

…

—————————————————————————————

IM SORRY IF THIS SUCKED IM GENUINELY SORRY😭 PEASE FORGIVE ME🙏🙏

[suguru-getos]

Fleeting - Part I

Summary: Broken and bruised, is what your heart feels after losing the love of your life - Geto Suguru, in the hands of someone you barely know. Isn't it your duty to have Gojo Satoru dead at your feet?

Author's Note: Gosh TIS is ANGSTY>!!! I almost cried while writing this part :((

Chapter Summary: You have been told that Suguru is no more, how you cope up can be utterly frightening when there's nothing else to lose anymore.

You stood at the kitchen door, frozen, numb, eyes widened with the sheer panic of everything that befell. The environment around you just felt akin to pure desolation, the very marrow of your bone shattered, broken apart in endless pieces and it was impossible to bring you back. The endless void that Suguru created in your life, the deteriorating feeling of emptiness, hollowing you, sucking your soul up. "Where is he?" You managed to fight from the endless pit of anxiety that grew like a black hole. Mimiko and Nanako are scared to meet your gaze, the woman who's not much older than them but they still consider her as the epitome of love. For both of them, and, their precious Geto Sama.

Your eyes are not allowing the pent-up grief to escape, not a tear shall be shed for this. Never will. You can't wash off all the feelings of being notoriously tainted by Suguru's intensity, by his love. Your mind isn't thinking straight, you want answers, need answers. "I asked a question, Miguel." You asked someone else in the 'Family' that cherished you as much as they cherished Geto. "Please.." Manami, the woman who helped him do his due-diligence being a Cult leader cried out. She knows you will break apart, and they are not sure if they can handle a living corpse after losing Suguru-chan.

"Where is Sugu?" You asked again, desperation of clutching for the fleeting hope of him returning back, evidently smiling with his ever-so-loving, signature smile and warmth ensuing with his hugs. He couldn't… he shouldn't. HE COULDN'T!

"Y/N Sama" Nanako sniffled, running to you and hugging you tightly, loud sobs and wails of torment echoed the room as she fell to her knees. As if she's apologizing. Why is she apologizing? Where is Suguru? You just asked a simple question - where is Geto Suguru? The love of your life, the biggest piece of your heart, the reason of you existing and not dead at your own actions all those years ago.

"Y/N Sama- please don't ask this, you know he's gone… he said he would be the first to come home didn't he?"

You want to kill everyone in this room, you want to kill every sorcerer to exist, you want to kill yourself.

He did… he did promise you. Hugged you close and whispered how grateful he is to have you, over and over and over and over and over and over and-

Why did he have to leave you forever?

Why could he not let his heart beat for you?

"This- is mine." The flashback of Suguru's silky voice haunts you, as his looming, large hands point at the left side of your chest. "You have my heart, and I, have yours." He smiled, holding your hand and softly placing it on his naked chest. "So if this stops working -" He nuzzles against your chest, "Which it would never, because my heart would never give up on you… but if it does, know I've failed to protect you as a man."

"Gosh, so intense and for what" You push him away, rolling your eyes. "Both our hearts wouldn't stop working. You know why? Because - in this world, you bring out a smile in me."

Suguru was right, if his heart was in you - he didn’t fail to protect you, but you did. You're all alone now, the only shred of comfort if ever, in the grotesque way your heart is tattered apart, is the words of Suguru where he calls that 'his heart'. You know that's not true, you know better. Still, what else could you do?

You can't think of anything else, can't speak, can't eat. Time is a construct when it's your other half that you’ve lost.

You don't even remember that a week has passed with you staring at the wall, sleeping in the same bed that has the scent of your person.. fleeting… just like him.

You cry on the eighth day, you roar, you scream, you let the world know that you're here. Even if Geto Suguru is not, you're here.

What's worse than a lion? The king of the jungle, the apex predator?

An injured lion.

You.

All you can think of is how to make the ache in your heart settle, how to breathe again. Or perhaps, how to be worthy of death that you can grant yourself and re-unite with Suguru. What would it take to meet him again…

You drag yourself up from the bed, going to his closet and taking his perfume out, the whisking sound of it spraying all over echoes as you close your eyes, pumping it over and over and over and over and over- you can't afford to not smell like your lover. You are losing your mind- why doesn't everyone else die? Who killed him-

Right, who killed Suguru Geto?

Frantically, tear-stained and in an absolute mess, you opened the door. Stunned to see 'everyone' standing outside. You know why they were there, your screams and sobs were unimaginably painful. You were crying out in utter devastating, soul churning pain after all. None of them knew how to console you after all. How would you tell someone to be okay after they lose the light of their life?

"Who killed him?" You asked the question, looking at everyone.

"Gojo Satoru." Larue responded.

"Gojo Satoru.." You repeated, as if writing his name in red in your broken, bleeding heart. Writing his name in… blood red.

"His best friend?" You snorted, the denial turning you furious and unimaginably dangerous.

"We have a new mission, my family." You smiled. If it's revenge that can keep you alive, so be it.

[king--of--ducks]

What happened to McAlastor

(and McVox, ig)

[[Both the McAlastor and McVox accounts no longer exist. I’ll leave it up to you to make some Matpat level theories about why. But I will say those accounts will not be coming back, the reasoning is not my place to share.

What IS my place to share—their mod and I were talking, and I was left with two options for McAl disappearing.

•Lucifer left him

•McAlastor died

Now, I haven’t had angst on this blog in a damn minute, and I couldn’t imagine Lucifer leaving McAl. So, naturally, me and the old “blitz-horsie-enthusiast” mod from the discord server got to work plotting and angsty death.

Below you will find a description of what happened, and below the cut/TWs you will find all the @ s and a very gorey plotline]]

[[The story goes as such. McAlastor and McVox used to date, obviously not anymore. So McVox decided the best course of action would to pull a “If I can’t have him, nobody can”, and hired Striker (played by the old Blitzø mod) to kill McAlastor while he was taking a nap in the freezer. Eventually Lucifer will find out who hired Striker, and, well….both “Mc” accounts are dead for a reason.

And despite McAl only being his fiancé and not husband, that doesn’t change him seeing Alyx and MJ as his kids.]]

TW:BLOOD, DEATH, GORE, I THINK THAT’S ALL?!

🍎Al! Al! Guess what?!🍎

Lucifer called out as he entered the McDonalds. It was one of those glorious days where Vox wasn’t working, and he could openly be lovey with his fiancé without judgment or doubt.

He hasn’t gotten a response, so he called out again to no answer. This wasn’t concerning to him, Alastor liked to sleep in the freezer a lot, he could for sure find him in there. So he quickly skipped on over, pulling open the door.

🍎Al! Deer! Gue—🍎

Lucifer froze like a deer in the headlights as he saw the state his deer lover was in. Holy bullet through the brain, another in his chest for good measure, blood dripping on the floor with a sickening dripping sound.

🍎A……..Al’!🍎

Lucifer charged forward to desperately check for and sign of life (or at least not double deadness), pulling his love into his arms. That same forever grin still plastered on his face, a calm one signifying a death in his sleep, one of Lucifer’s many duck prints blankets now coated in blood had been wrapped around him.

He was gone, gone and Lucifer couldn’t prevent it….he hadn’t been there.

He held Alastor’s cold lifeless corpse close for what could have been minutes, hours, maybe even days for all he knew. His sobs and Alastor’s blood had souled both of their outfits, and the blanket……this was it…it was the end of McAlastor.

@headlessdeaddancer @alyxdefoisnthere @damian-morningstar @charlie-morningstar666

[riewritten]

TO A POINT OF NO RETURN

ANNA LIEBERT x FEM!READER | READ ON AO3 TAGS: graphic depiction of violence, moral corruption, obsessive behavior, non-con kissing, proceed with caution WORDS: 1k DEDICATED TO: @suusoh my darling sweetie pie, one of the people I missed the most during the time I was gone ! i made this after finishing Killing Eve (which she recommended). i got inspired by how the main character loves it when her partner is lichrally dismembering people. i love messed-up lesbianism.

The tears blurring your vision couldn't wipe the horrendous sight of blood on your trembling hands. Poor Petr Čapek, no? He who had spent a life being an invincible evil force, now splayed down with neck open, face beyond recognition, and with a mouth as wide as his dead eyes, staring into your soul and now tainted conscience. After all, the mess is done by no other than you—in fact, no one in this world would've done such a thing, for Anna even. Anna herself knows it.

You look all over your surroundings and heighten your senses (or so you try) to grasp the very needed presence of mind only to no avail. The scent of blood pooling down Čapek's stomach and neck is starting to permeate your rationality, looming in the air and cradling the terror in your nerves.

And yet, at the corner of the room, you see the flabbergasted Anna kneeling and leaning against the door. Unlike the look of terror due to the sight of her abuser reliving the most painful memories of her childhood a while ago, her face now shows palpable awe.

No one in this world, and perhaps even beyond, would be willing to do this much for her. One might say her twin brother could, but she doesn't consider him because he is her and she is him. Only you, a completely separate entity, a girl whose life has been completely different than hers, came to understand what needs to be done.

Despite the trembling—which is not out of fear but of joyous reverence—she crawls towards you. She savors the sight of Čapek's bloody corpse first. Lovely. How utterly lovely. She couldn't help it.

“What the hell are you smiling for, Anna?!”

Your panicked voice turns her gaze towards you—her beautiful angel, her one and only glorious savior—and so then and there, you see her eyes gleam further. She crawls again, her knees stomping Čapek's corpse along the way, not minding the spurt of blood gushing out brought by that, and then she hugs you. Deeply, tightly, as if she has never done it before. She feels your rapid heartbeat upon her chest, your ragged breathing, and your soft sobs; oh, god knows how bad Anna wants to pin you more to her until you're inside, forever bound and inseparable.

“W-what have I done? God, what have I done?!”

“Shh,” Anna coos, “you did nothing wrong.” A tone softer and you would believe her words. The way she starts stroking your head didn't help either. “My lovely, lovely girl, you did nothing wrong.”

“No!” you push her away. “I-I killed him!” And so your eyes lay upon your bloody hands again. “I cannot turn this back—hah—I cannot—”

Anna gently squeezes your hand and brings it to her cheeks, smearing Čapek's blood on her porcelain skin before it dries up. You think you're soiled? Then she's soiled with you. You look like you're drowning in quicksand right now; are you scared? No worries, you have sealed your fate with her at this very moment. You're not gonna die alone.

“Anna, please listen—”

She couldn't help it anymore. She needs an outlet this instant. All the love she's kept in to keep you comfortable aches to be let out. And so she cuts you off with a kiss, deeply and almost harshly, with rigor and reverence. She licks the blood off the corner of your lip, then your chin, then your cheeks, before slipping it inside. You're too surprised to note how disgusting Čapek's blood tastes. You try to push her away until you feel her tears on your cheeks.

Oh no, Anna.

You let her on then, barely returning it, but when you feel like Anna is about to pin you to the ground, you gently retract. “Why are you crying, Anna?”

She checks to confirm. She is indeed crying, and yet she smiles—sweet and grateful—that you almost forget the matter at hand. She tries to open her mouth only to back off at the last second. What could she say that would not upset you further? Knowing your head to toe, Anna's sure you'd be more rattled if she decides to speak what's on her mind: You're no different from me now. Oh dearest girl, now you're tied to me. We'll never get separated again. No one in this world would've done this for me. Now let me do everything for you in return. You don't have to worry about anything else but letting yourself be loved by me. I love you. I love you. Oh god I love you—

“Anna?”

“Let me clean this up—” she gets a handkerchief out of her pocket and gently wipes your face. She kisses your hand before cleaning it next. “—before anybody else comes in.”

It daunts you again. “I—” you don't know how to start, “I don't know what came to me.”

Anna hums, offering you a safe space to let it out the way she just did.

“All I knew was—” you let out a ragged exhale, “was that he needs to stop talking. And your face, your horrified face, stricken by his words—I-I just can't—”

“Thank you,” she kisses your hand again, now cleaned up from the blood. She walks to her closet to get you fresh clothes before continuing, “Thank you for doing this.”

“Thank you?” you quote, aghast. “Do you have any idea how fucked we are right now?”

Anna, as if she hears nothing, raises up your bloody shirt. And you let her (or maybe you're trembling too much to even stop her), clothe you again. “We're not fucked, darling. Don't you know who I am?”

Indeed, who is Anna even? How could you do this much for her? After all, everything Čapek had said before the commotion unfolded was things you heard for the first time. What the hell is Red Rose Mansion? What about Anna being forcefully separated from her family due to an experiment? What about Anna having the potential to be the perfect subject only to no avail because of Bonaparta's rotten pity? Who the hell is Bonaparta, even?

“I know how to clean this up. Just sit tight and relax, understand?”

“Who are you really, Anna?”

“I used to wonder, too,” she cryptically responds.

Who is she, indeed? She and his twin brother were nameless monsters. They don't have names. They were the only two people in the world. His twin brother made the monster inside her sleep for a while after being adopted by the Lieberts. Only after a series of harassment from Čapek and his team who wanted to take her again did the monster awaken. And since then she has killed plenty. With no remorse, with no difference from her brother. As if they were both born just to do that. 

Now, Anna's question for the longest time is starting to get answered. Maybe Johan and her aren't very alike this time around—not anymore. And slowly, surely, she will adapt to this change, too. Just the same way you'll get accustomed to the new life ahead of you, a life bound to her and nobody else, a life where you'll get smothered with the flowers she'll give, a life where she doesn't have to hold back with the feelings she has for you.

“Who are you, Anna?” you start again, getting more confused at her tranquility.

Anna hoists a strand of your hair before kissing your forehead. With a loving sigh, she answers. “I'm yours. That's all that matters.”

The world could only hope you'd be able to take what's about to come from hereon.

TAGLIST: @s0m4-sh4rk @acid-bunnyy @xeiin-n | SUBSCRIBE TO STORIES

[charles-simmons-fanfiction]

Why can I only kiss your ghost? - Neil Perry / Todd Anderson

Description: Unfortunately for Todd, a ghost will never be as warm as he needs it to. [hurt/no comfort, 700 words]

Wrote this for comfort, ironically. It's a kind of vent if I think too much about it.

---

His eyes have been closed for hours, Todd is starting to accept he's not getting any sleep, again.

The room is silent and dark, as it is every night. There is no one sleeping in the bed next to him. No heavy breathing and light snoring, but an empty bed whose sheets and pillows were already taken away a while ago.

In a way, that's a good thing. Anderson would've left that place forever if they had assigned him a new roommate. A substitute for someone who could never keep him company again. Nolan didn't have the audacity to do that, yet.

He sighs in annoyance and sits up, with his face on his hands, feeling under his fingers the greasy hair he didn't have energy to wash and that was already way too long for him.

"You need to sleep"

The familiar voice didn't alarm him.

"Shut up," he looked up to see Neil standing at the door, with his hand in his pockets. "You don't know how this is like."

There was silence again. Neil looked at him with empty eyes. Todd felt too angry to cry.

"How dare you even come back now?" His tone was harsh, yet not loud. "How dare you haunt me when I'm already hurting this much? What do you want from me?"

Neil had no answer for him. Todd clenched his fist, and got up.

"Are you hearing me, Neil? Are you even there?" There was no reaction from the friend in front of him. He didn't feel like a friend to Todd anymore, but had he ever? "Take a good look at me, Neil Perry. Look what you've done to me!"

Silence. Again, the goddamn silence.

"Oh, I wish I had never met you. The happiness you brought me was not as half as big as the pain I feel," the words came out as a firm whisper, hurting Todd's throat as they left his mouth.

Neil's eyes only stayed on him for a few instants, and he turned his head to the empty bed. "Then I suppose I should go."

Todd grabbed him by the collar of his shirt before he could even try, and pushed him hard against the wall.

Neil whimpered in pain. His eyes watered, struggling as he tried to get away, and the guilty hit Todd like a punch in the gut, but he didn't let go.

"So that's it? You're leaving me again at the first chance you get?" He hit Neil against the wall again, his nails now dug into his neck. It wouldn't bleed, not ever again.

"I thought I was hurting you being here," the ghost choked out. The moonlight entered the room through the window, and looking deep into his eyes, Todd could swear he had never looked so dead.

"You are all I have left," the anger in his voice grew into desperation. "Don't abandon me again! I'm not that strong, Neil"

Before Neil could speak, Todd pushed his lips against his in an unreciprocated kiss. His eyes were completely full of tears by the time he pulled away.

The bullet hole could be seen in the side of Neil's head, an unnecessary reminder he is only a corpse.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, I shouldn't have said that. Neil, I need you like I need air to breathe," Todd begged, his head falling to his friend's chest. "I don't care if you're real or not, just stay. If you ever loved me like I love you, stay. Please."

He sobbed his heart out, gripping onto a dead body as if his life depended on it. There was no warmth, no comfort. Todd had never craved a hug this much, yet he knew he would never get one ever again, not from who he needed.

By the time he opened his eyes, he was griping onto himself. The ghost was gone. His head ached like hell, and he could barely breathe. Todd screamed until he passed out in Neil's bed, not too long after.

That night, he had no dreams.

He was already dreaming while awake anyway.

---

I'm not really proud of my writing here, but I feel better now that I wrote it, so it's worth it. Anyway, take care y'all.

[cursedmoon-doll13]

Some Kind Of Stranger.

(Sirius x Reader)

Cw: Angst, Smut, Dub/Noncon. Afab reader. Prisoner (also falsely accused) reader and they are having a very bad time™️ Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Comfort Sex in a very uncomfortable place.

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Condemned to rot in Azkaban, you find yourself thrown into a cell already inhabited by a particularly infamous wizard. Perhaps you can stave off the torment together…

Dividers by @/saradika

Your life is forfeit.

Until now, the threat of death never seemed real. Not when you were seized by the officials and dragged before the ministry, not when those cold, sneering faces looked down upon you and sentenced you to a life in Azkaban for a crime you didn’t commit. It was a farce, a bad practical joke. It couldn’t be real.

Perhaps you were simply enduring some nightmare; this was only a dream, you’d soon find your coworker, Mildred, shaking you vigorously - wake up, you lazy git! Do you even know what bloody time it is? - And then, you’d wipe the crust from your eyes, pull on your Honeydukes apron and go back to peddling sugar to those titchy new Hogwarts kids, who shrink more and more each year.

No. It’s now that it feels real. Now, you're forced behind rusty iron bars, stranded in the middle of the ocean, trapped forever. All you can hear is the crying and moaning of the other prisoners, who sob and bay like animals. You’re still frozen in shock.

Then, the panic sets in. Sinking and emptying, like a vast hole has opened up in your stomach. But you can’t even scream anymore; it dies in your throat like a broken whistle. Instead you just cry, sliding down to the filthy floor in a pathetic heap. No matter how you plug your ears, the older inmates howl louder, joining in a cacophony that almost deafens you.

After a while, the din thankfully quiets down. Exhausted, you drift off into uneasy sleep for a few hours, until some damp chill startles you again. You feel numb and heavy. For the first time since you came here, you take in your surroundings, though there isn’t much: You’re boxed into a container of rock, packed like a product. In one shadowed corner, there’s a pulpy grey lump stuck to the wall like mould. You blink away the darkness and realise it is a vaguely human shape: one with filthy, matted hair.

He is a man; or the sordid remnants of one.

He’s wearing the same drab, striped clothing as you, though older and rattier and crusted with grime. For a moment, you’re convinced he’s dead. The idea of being locked in with a rotting corpse flashes horrifyingly through your mind. But then, he raises his gloomy head. He must be waking up, too.

“Hello?” You gently call out to him. Your voice echoes around the room. You scrape your knee on the floor as you crawl over, trying to see him better.

Almost immediately, you regret your decision.

This is a mistake. Oh, god, it has to be.

The prisoner sharing your cell is Sirius Black.

That Sirius Black.

Sirius Black, who once fired off a curse that killed twelve muggles before you. Sirius Black, whose gaunt and hollowed cheeks now recall the skeleton you first believed he was. Sirius Black, who’s gazing fixedly at you now, in awe, as if you’re an apparition.

“Hello,” he echoes back, and his voice is so gravelly that he sounds like he’s swallowed a bag full of glass. His eyes are wide and strangely bright.

“I…”

Your throat constricts.

The panic from earlier almost drove you into hysterics. Now, you’re just a deer in the headlights.

He rises, advancing towards you.

“You don’t look like one of them,” Black rasps. You follow his line of sight towards your empty forearm.

“N-no, I’m not a Death Eater!” You cry, and scramble quickly away. Still, you feel the urgent need to clamp a hand down there. It’s as if his gaze burns you.

“I’m Innocent! I didn’t do it, I swear, I… I… ”

But you’re choked up with tears again. Now the dam is breached, and you can’t staunch the flow. You were so sullen and distant before the actual judges, but as you’re confronted with death at the hands of a possible madman, you’re desperate to prove yourself. It’s all completely pointless, but you can’t help it. You felt it when you failed your N.E.W.T’s, too. The weight of inevitability; the realisation that a door had slammed permanently shut on your life.

You’re so beside yourself, you don’t register how close Black has gotten. Now, you can feel his warm breath tickling your ear, almost pleasantly. But then you flinch, as images of brute, bloody violence force themselves into your head. All you know of this man is that he’s a ruthless killer, that’s he’s…

“Not going to hurt you,” Black tells you. He’s backed you into a wedge in the stone, with nowhere else to turn to but him. You feel like a cornered animal.

“Don’t cry, now,” he says quietly. A bony, shaking knuckle comes to wipe the wetness from your cheek. “If you are Innocent, don’t you forget. It helps not to.”

Don’t Forget… Black’s words solidify in your mind. You swallow down a lump. The scrape on your knee is beginning to sting painfully. You realise it’s bleeding.

“Wouldn’t do to catch an infection here, eh?” He quips. Black clumps together the cleanest strip of cloth he has and dabs at your weeping knee.

You blink owlishly. It’s so starkly conversational, it sounds like it came from an entirely different man.

“Um… No. No.” You sniff and rub your eye; it smarts. “You’re right, It really wouldn’t do.” You glance sheepishly back up at his pale face.

“…Thankyou,” you sigh, and you mean it.

For a brief second, this encounter feels precious. Without realising it, you’ve relaxed so much tension in your tired body. Suddenly, the absurdity of the situation you’ve found yourself in hits you like a ton of bricks. How could you have ever imagined you’d be comforted by a convicted murderer? He’s bent forward, staring intently at you, as if he’s trying to read your thoughts. A little too intently.

Black’s tattered shirt gapes open like a wound, and your gaze dips instinctively downward, tracing black-inked, swirling tattoos. His bare chest is coated in a thin sheen of sweat. Black’s hand brushes momentarily against yours, and you hurry to pry your wandering eyes away.

It’s no use, though, because he’s rather caught on. You believe you half-fantasise the ghost of a cheeky smile, twitching beneath his rugged whiskers.

He would’ve been handsome, once. He still is.

“Tell me your name,” Black murmurs, and licks his cracked lips. “I want to know.”

You tell him. He nods faintly, and draws closer.

Black’s grey eyes are half-lidded. He’s leaning flush against you now, breathing huskily, almost clinging to you, like he can’t bear to be apart from your heat. Maybe you’ve already lost the plot - after barely a day here - but the anguished, far-away longing in his expression makes your heart pang.

Eleven years ago now, it must’ve been…

A shrill, unwelcome noise cuts through the silence. Outside, another inmate is shrieking.

Then, the nightmare truly begins: an eerie rattle dragging across the air, knife-sharp, closing in, as certain as death. You realise immediately that it is the Dementors - your prison guards- even without seeing them. You feel them, cold like a sheet of ice, crushing you, inescapable.

You shift, darting your eyes around your cell; you must think of something, anything else.

Your distraction comes in a rush of warmth, cocooning you in a grimy coat. Black has caged you into his arms, and will not budge.

“Stay here with me,” he breathes. His voice is raw and hoarse, pleading: “Just for one moment…”

He shudders violently, and buries his face in the crook of your neck. Black squeezes you so tightly, so desperately, you feel like you’re suffocating.

“Sirius,” you croak out a protest. “Wait, let me go.”

The sound of his own name jolts him out of his panic, but his grip on you remains unrelenting. Sirius turns a sharp glare on you that makes you shiver.

Before, his gaze was fond, almost gentle, but now there’s a hungry glint in his eyes. It reminds you of the starving, feral dogs that roam the outskirts of Hogsmeade, the ones that’d rip your throat out for a mere scrap of meat. No, he may not have tried to kill you, but that doesn’t mean you should’ve let your guard down. You’re powerless to stop him now.

“Don’t leave, don’t you dare leave me,” he’s chanting through dirty, gritted teeth.

“I’m not going to leave, Sirius,” you muster. “I’ll stay, I’ll stay here with you…” The words seem to pacify him a little, and he softens his touch once more. You see again the sad, forlorn expression, and pity floods your heart. He’s a hurt man. A lonely man…

Another frigid spike of mental agony is driven through you, and you squeeze your eyes shut. You no longer have the willpower to resist. He’s so warm, his body wrapped around you like a protective blanket. You can hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat underneath his striped shirt, pounding like a drum.

“Help…” He sounds so lost, feverish. “…Stave it off.”

You find yourself nodding, pressing yourself closer to him. He’s right. It hurts you, too, the Dementors’ presence. All you have now is each other. Sirius strokes a clammy hand over your tear-stained cheek, lifts your chin and kisses you. His lips taste salty and bitter, and your teeth clash together clumsily with the urgency of it. You rush to hook your arms around his neck, fingers raking across knots and tangles in his dark, unkempt hair.

Sirius groans heavily into your mouth, bucking his hips. He’s so malnourished you can feel the harsh angle of his pelvic bone jut against you. Something else, hard, twitches fervently over your thigh. He tightens his hold on you before you can react, grasping your thighs and grinding powerfully over your still clothed cunt. You whimper as his heat radiates into you. Sirius doesn’t stop, panting frantically. Maybe he can’t stop. He’s trapped you between himself and the cold, hard stone, and you start to crave friction and relief from him. Something you can focus on that isn’t discomfort or pain. But you’re completely at his mercy in this position, and can only rub your clit wantonly against the throbbing outline of his dick. A low, pleased grumble resounds in his throat, almost canine.

Sirius paws at the confines of your inmate’s rags, and without warning, he forcefully disrobes you. You gasp as a freezing gust of air pimples gooseflesh on your exposed skin, but he’s on you just as fast, You cling instinctively onto his jacket as he hoists you onto his waiting lap. He latches onto your throat with a greedy bite, sucking ravenous hickies down to your collarbone. Sirius rolls a hot tongue over your hardened nipple, and you tug again at his tangled locks as he grazes tantalisingly over it with his teeth.

His hands are everywhere, movements once well-practised, natural, stirred into a lustful frenzy. One comes to pinch at your other nipple, another is slipping past your stomach, down in between your thighs where you’re needy and slick. You can’t help the moan that escapes past your lips as the pad of his thumb circles over your sensitive clit.

For a small, blissful moment, you rock into his palm as he holds you, stifling your mewls into his shoulder as he massages the bundle of nerves there. Oh, fuck, you need him, as much as you need air to breathe. If you shut your eyes, you can almost pretend that you weren’t here; that you are joyful and unfettered, making love to a free man.

“Mm, Sirius!”

Sirius curls another long finger into your wet slit, and you could swear the glint in his eye is smugly satisfied. He pumps mercilessly into your pussy, not sparing your clit from his attention, and it isn’t long before you feel a thrill rippling up your spine; tight, warm pressure building in your abdomen.

But then he seems to grow antsy and impatient. You whine as he pulls his hand away, but he hushes you, pressing a consoling kiss to your temple. The lucid side to him, the one that still cares for your comfort, provides you with his coat to rest your head on. You lie down, shuddering as the frigid air assaults you again. You grab at his rags as he quickly undresses. He’s taking too long, too long…

Sirius drags down the waistband of his slacks and releases the straining hardness of his cock. It’s erect and veiny, leaking precum from an enraged tip.

He’s left you so soaked that he meets no resistance as he buries himself deep into your ready cunt. You groan as you adjust to the girth of him, stretching your gummy walls. Sirius grunts, clutching your thighs so tightly his nails leave indents on the tender flesh. Sweat is pouring down his forehead in rivulets, and you reach up to brush damp hair away from his haggard face. It occurs to you faintly that maybe after such deprivation, this much sensation is overwhelming him. That notion is swiftly dashed as he stutters his hips jerkily into yours, and you squeak out a moan as your nerves jolt with pleasure. You clamp your legs down over his waist, rocking back into him with all the force you can muster.

Sirius is picking up pace faster and faster; he’s had enough of being attentive. He braces you against the thin material of his coat and begins fucking you in earnest, and his rough, sloppy thrusts knock the breath clean out of you. The impact of skin on skin echoes around your cell, drowning out the screams of agony from outside. You arch into him, clawing meagrely onto his biceps for purchase as your shoulder blades burn across the ground.

Sirius growls and grips the back of your neck, lifting you up to pull you into a hungry kiss. His free hand slips down to ruthlessly tease your clit again, and the inescapable power of his body dumbs your senses. It’s a mercy: now all you can feel is him, all you can think of is… The taut razor wire in your belly is threatening to snap. You’re so close now, and it’s like he can taste it, muffling your cries with his tongue as he buckles down and pounds into you.

Then it all breaks, a flash of heat rippling through you like an electric shock. The force of your climax is so strong that you instinctively writhe away from him, but Sirius holds you firmly down and only fucks you harder as you come, rumbling with satisfaction as you spasm and clench uncontrollably around his dick. You can barely comprehend how his movements are faltering, growing increasingly messy and desperate…

Sirius groans hoarsely before he drags himself out of you. His cum splashes over your still twitching stomach in a thick, white rope. He slumps, shuddering out a jagged sigh. Your orgasm lathers over you until it tapers off into a pleasant buzz. For a while, all you can hear is your intermingling breaths, panting in sync. Now that he’s pulled out, you feel strangely hollow and empty inside.

Uncaring of your still sticky belly, Sirius heaves his sweaty body on top of you and smothers you like a blanket. You only wish he could clog your senses, too, so that this reality could fade away. Seeking sanctuary in his warmth, you press your eyes shut and resolve to fall asleep and dream of better days.

Your life is forfeit. Now you will exist without sun, without moon, without food or water. Someday you may forget your own name.

But you will have this. You will have this.

[aestheticpearl]

— 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

[𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫] xanthus claiborne

a/n: once again this is my different style of writing and just be aware there is no feel good ending in this one, it also leans towards more of the horror aspect of xanthus

xanthus never thought he would ever lose control like this, he can’t remember the last time bloodlust had taken over. a blindfold was secured around his eyes and once he was placed in the dark room and caught a whiff of the intoxicating smell, he was blinded by pure hunger and he simply couldn’t stop his predatory instincts.

his sharp nails dig into soft flesh, blood smears all over his face. the hunger he feels is insatiable, no matter how much of the sweet blood he drinks it isn’t enough for him. xanthus isn’t in control anymore, he’s unaware of what’s happening in the crimson soaked moment. the only thought in his mind is to drink.

the animal’s muffled cries fall on deaf ears till xanthus practically shred its jugular to finally silence it. the dark room is filled with the disgusting sounds of flesh being torn and blood dripping.

it’s hard to keep track of time in a dark, cut off from light, place like this. it had to have been months based on how he was acting with his food. everything is a blur, he remembers being kidnapped by his maker and he remembers his lover was with him. he can feel his heart ache for them, he feels it now more than ever. he prays for their safety to any sort of god that will listen.

he hopes that they’re not as hungry as he is right now. he hopes they are being treated better, not like a wild animal like him; but that’s what he feels like anyway. he doesn’t feel in control of his own actions, he is running on pure instinct alone.

the animal has ceased its struggle against him and falls limp. xanthus hears the heartbeat of the creature stop, he knows it’s dead. xanthus pulls away and sits up as he slowly regains his composure. the sense of dread hangs over him and he doesn’t know why. could his love be in trouble? have they been in trouble this whole time and he was too lost in the bloodlust to notice the feeling?

xanthus reaches to take off the blindfold before a voice echoes through the room.

“are you sure you’re ready to see the mess you’ve created lawrence?”

audric.

xanthus hesitates. what did he mean by that? the question makes his skin crawl and he decides against his better judgment to take off the blindfold.

he wishes he didn’t.

there before him laying on the cold, blood covered cement floor was his love. their body almost unrecognizable, their sparkling eyes that were once filled with life now dull.

xanthus felt sick. he couldn’t hold it back and ended up emptying his stomach’s contents on the floor beneath audric boots. his head was spinning, he had just killed the only person who truly knew him and loved him as he was.

“i did ask if you were ready, clearly you weren’t.”

he was in shock, unable to look away from the mangled body of his lover. he killed them, too blinded by hunger to realize.

he was a monster.

“how does it feel lawrence? your weakness is now gone, but you were the one to get rid of them. now you have to live with that for the rest of your life.”

tears fill xanthus’ eyes as he moves closer to the corpse. his hand strokes their face unsure of what to do, a broken sob escapes his lips and he cradles their dead body in his arms.

their blood stained on his face and hands. his lovers blood will forever be on his hands, no matter how hard he scrubs.

he is a monster, but he is a monster that feels sick.

please reblog to show support ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

the song i choose is literally about a girl being cannibalized by her lover so i thought it was appropriate :)

(also let me know if you guys like this writing style)

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

[pain-in-the-butler]

Dadbastian Week Day 1: Proud

Hello, everybody! I hope you all are as excited as I am for the first day of Dadbastian week! I have a handful of drabbles to share with you to celebrate one of my personal favorite Black Butler headcanons. This one is inspired a post that was made by @anawkwardlady over a year ago (linked at the end in order to avoid spoiling the drabble). It's 3.1k and takes place during the murders arc, shortly after Sebastian fakes his death.

Enjoy, and see you again soon for more!

Ciel wondered if he’d ever grow accustomed to the sight of death. It felt juvenile not to be — and yet when the smell was factored in, it was almost impossible not to run or freeze in its presence. Those instincts were pressing on him right now. Forcing himself to walk below-stairs to the place where the scent and sight of death both lingered was a task he could scarcely admit to himself was difficult.

He felt he’d done pretty well with Sebastian’s “death,” all things considered. He had really not wanted to throw a fit over the “corpse.” Death never made Ciel want to cry anymore, so the performance of sadness had indeed been just that: a performance. He’d even started laughing a little in the middle of it and had had to mask the laughs as sobs. Had he found the moment of Sebastian’s death exactly funny? He’d certainly wanted to. But he knew in his heart that some of the laughter was simply nervous energy begging to be expelled. The servants’ wailing in the background had been all too real. And then there was something else niggling at him that he couldn’t quite name…

Ciel winced lightly. Forget about it. Sebastian wouldn’t stay dead, those three servants would have their grief eased, and then he could put the mission behind him forever, never to address again. It wouldn’t be much longer now.

Two of the four servants were currently alongside him. Bard was leading the way to the cellar, guiding them with the orange ambience of a cold-blast lantern, and Finny was by his side, a subdued air surrounding him. Next was the professor and so-called “leader” in this investigation, as appointed by Ciel himself, Arthur Doyle. Ciel was fourth in line, and Lord Charles Grey took the rear.

Theirs was a quiet party, until Doyle just had to interrupt the morgue-like silence with, “In this setting, I half expect a ghost or the like to pop out at any moment.”

“HEY, CUT THAT OUUUT!!” Grey’s cry echoed loudly in the small, coiled space of the stairwell. Ciel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Some knight of the Queen you are, getting scared of— wah! And now Grey had suddenly thought it would be acceptable to attach himself to Ciel’s arm like a person prone to fainting! “There’s no such thing as ghosts! ’Cause I only believe in what I can cut down with my sword!”

“Then can you try your hand at walking without clinging on to me?” Ciel felt his posture slumping beneath the added weight of this overgrown child. “It’s hard for me to move like this…”

Grey’s miserably strong grip only loosened a fraction. “I figured you must be scared, so I was taking the trouble of comforting you…” Don’t try and pin your juvenile behavior on me!! You’re enough of a thorn in my side when you aren’t treating me like a security blanket!

“Gentlemen, we’re here,” Bard thankfully interrupted and pulled open the cellar door to permit them entry. About time. Doyle led the way inside while Ciel could feel Grey’s trembling hand still clutching his shoulder. Before them on the cold stone floor lay the three bodies covered in their white sheets. The center sheet belonged to Sebastian.

It smelled badly here in general, dank and musty, but the death scent didn’t linger quite as much as Ciel had anticipated, likely thanks to the cold. He took a deep breath and told his trepidation to desert him. His reputation was on the line here. He strode boldly forward.

A voice interrupted before he made it far. “Young master, hold on. Use these if you’re gonna touch the bodies.” Ciel turned to see Bard offering out a pair of rubber gloves. The chef’s blue eyes were steely; he was hardening himself against the presence of death too.

Ciel didn’t mention it. He hoped his own gaze looked aloof and unaffected. “Right.” He tugged the gloves on; they felt large and cumbersome on his hands. Doyle had already donned his pair and said while pulling back the middle sheet, “Then if I may beg your pardon, Sebastian…”

Ciel braced himself for the sight of blood. What caught his attention first was water.

“He’s wet?!” Doyle cried out, and Finny gasped too.

Bard glanced up to the ceiling. “I’ll bet it’s leakin’ in through the roof.”

No, it’s not that… Ciel kept his expression blank, but a little part of him wanted to laugh again. Sebastian had probably been running around in the rain mere moments before their arrival! What lengths he has to go not to be the one to spoil the game… Heh. Idiot.

Finny saw no humor in the situation. “Poor Mr. Sebastian! C’mon, let’s move him!”

Doyle soberly agreed. “Yes, let’s. The water will hasten decay, after all. Not to mention undressing him in order to investigate further will be quite troublesome since rigor mortis has set in. So let’s first turn him over and—”

“STOP IT!! Don’t treat Mr. Sebastian like a thing!”

Ciel was already crouching by Sebastian’s body when Finny suddenly leapt in front of Doyle to keep him from proceeding. Honestly, this outburst… Why did I think it would be a good idea to bring Finny again? Ciel ignored the pang of guilt and interrupted this silly little tantrum before hysterics could set in.

“Finny. If you’re going to carry on like this, get out. You’re in the way.” He waved his hand in a half-hearted shooing motion. “We can move him later. The key comes first.”

Ciel couldn’t look Finny in the eyes when he said it. He knew what he’d see: a whipped puppy expression as that child of a gardener struggled to cope with the death of a familiar person for the first time since he came to the manor. Never mind it. Maybe this was good for Finny. Get a little taste of mourning now, he’d only have to know it more intimately some other day…

Finny paced dejectedly away, and Bard offered a pat on the head. He’ll be fine. Meanwhile, Grey had joined them on the floor in searching Sebastian’s clothes for the key to the master bedroom. Ciel resisted the urge to glare at him. This whole farce of going through each article of clothing felt like such a waste of time when the actual murderer was still at large. But the Queen did love her games…

For the sake of playing along, Ciel said, “It doesn’t seem to be on his albert chain…”

Grey put a hand to his chin. “Did he maybe wear it around his neck?”

Ciel shook his head. “No, of course not. It would have to be in a less obvious place.” Then he went about helping Doyle remove Sebastian’s tailcoat. ‘Rigor mortis’ had indeed set in. Ugh, you didn’t have to make your muscles this stiff, damn demon…

Doyle took the clothing in his hands and began to dig through the external pockets. “Nothing here…”

“He has pockets inside the interior lining too.” Ciel knew all too well about the strange little mysteries Sebastian would occasionally pluck from the tailcoat’s depths. “Check those.”

“Ah, I see… Hang on. Oh! I might have found it.” Doyle dug into a bit of lining along the breast. There was a moment of hesitation. “Wait a minute—! This is—?”

“Hmm?” Ciel glanced up at the note of fear in Doyle’s voice. It couldn’t be the key he’d just discovered, so… what had him so upset?

Between gloved fingertips, Doyle had extracted a thin silver chain the approximate length of a bracelet. The chain bore no gems or charms. Instead, suspended from floral bead caps were four tiny bones of a particular shape and size—

Ciel blanched when the recognition struck him. Oh. Oh no.

“What the hell?” Grey was staring at the odd jewelry that Doyle clutched in his trembling hand. “What in the world am I looking at?”

“Ch-Ch-Ch-Children’s teeth!” Doyle stuttered. “These are definitely teeth once belonging to a child! But why?! And why were they made into jewelry?! For what purpose would a butler be carrying this?!”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Ciel managed to bite out. He could already feel the heat coming to his face.

“Maybe he had more innocent victims than we imagined,” Grey said pointedly.

“Of course not! Mr. Sebastian isn’t so cold-blooded!” Finny cried.

“At least, not in this way he wasn’t…” Bard tacked on.

Doyle gulped. “So then where did such a collection come from…?”

“From me. They’re my teeth.”

Bard, Finny, Grey, and Doyle all stared at Ciel when he admitted it. Ciel tried not to look embarrassed from their attention. “Those are milk teeth I lost naturally a few years ago, throughout Sebastian’s time at the manor,” Ciel explained sourly, folding his arms. “It would be just like Sebastian to think he’s being funny with something like this… When really he’s being vile and disturbing…”

“‘Being’? Don’t you mean ‘been’?” Grey said.

Ciel narrowed his gaze, hoping it looked injured and not simply annoyed. “… Yes.”

“Well, that certainly gave me a fright…” Doyle sighed. He held out the chain, eager to be rid of it. “Um… Should I… p-put it back then…?”

Ciel thrust out his palm. “No, give it here. They’re my teeth in the first place, so I should be the one to decide what becomes of them! Honestly, if I’d known he’d done something like this…”

Ciel glared down at Sebastian’s ridiculous death expression and wondered if he detected just the barest hint of a grin. Idiot! Damn demon! You can expect some very specific dessert requests in the near future as payback for this!

But Sebastian would suffer his own humiliation in the undressing that followed — and between that and the rest of the winding events that led to clinking glasses of red perilla juice in a spare bedroom, by the next day’s debriefing with the professor in the greenhouse, the bracelet had nearly fled from Ciel’s memory.

“Ah, wait! That strange jewelry you had hidden in your tailcoat — were those really the Earl’s teeth?!”

At least until it was brought back by Doyle over elevenses.

Sebastian was able to answer for himself now, and unfortunately he did so promptly. “Oh yes, they are! They’re quite cute, aren’t they?” he said brightly. And then Sebastian was suddenly dangling the chain out—! “This molar here I pulled myself. A stubborn little thing, it was! It gave the young lord some trouble while he was trying to enjoy his favorite cake, but I was happy to remove it for him.”

Ciel’s hand automatically traveled to the pocket of his suit coat even though he already knew exactly what he would find: nothing. “Hey!! When did you take that back?!”

The question was ignored. “This one is my favorite.” Sebastian laid out the chain in his palm and pointed at the next in line. “Look at how sharp it is! Like a little fang. Delightful! Human canines are so amusing.”

Doyle blinked. “H-Human…?”

“Shut up! That’s enough!” Ciel launched his arm across the table to grab for it, but Sebastian only brought it out of reach. “Teeth aren’t cute! Something is wrong with you!”

“The young master has unfortunately nearly completed the growth of his permanent teeth,” Sebastian sighed with what sounded like real remorse, “so these four are all I shall ever have… but I will treasure them dearly for a long, long while.”

“Disgusting! Who gave you permission to treasure these?! I certainly didn’t!” Ciel gripped the armrests of his chair. “Get rid of that stupid thing! Better yet, destroy it!”

Sebastian smiled primly. “My, my, what a fuss. I ought to carry on with my explanation to Mr. Doyle now, don’t you think? Plenty more important ground to cover.”

“Bastard! You’re the one who paused the whole conversation with your terrible fawning!”

“What a fuss.”

Oh. Ciel felt the voice ring in his memory so crisply then. “What a fuss.” Right… He had said that back then too, hadn’t he?

“Why all these tears, little brother? Did you really still think that Santa Claus was real? Next you’ll say that the tooth fairy exists as well.”

She does! Of course she does!

“Of course she doesn’t, you mean. Nobody wants a child’s teeth but his mother and father.”

The tooth fairy does!

“Then tell me, what does she do with all the teeth she’s given? There must be millions.”

She… She…

She makes jewelry out of them!!

“Hey. Damn demon. Come here.”

It was later that night, after Tanaka had snuffed out the lamps and Ciel was settled down in bed in his pajamas. Sebastian had yet to confirm his existence back to the servants; he wouldn’t until the funeral. He came almost like an apparition to the bedside. “Yes, young master?” he spoke softly.

“Did you destroy that horrid bracelet of teeth like I told you to?”

Even in the darkness, Ciel thought he could see Sebastian frowning. “Ah. Well, my lord, it wasn’t an order, so…”

“Tch. Cheeky as ever. Still needing as much instruction as you did on day one.” Ciel folded his arms over the comforter. Sebastian continued to look at him with hesitant disapproval. “What’s with that face? Why do you want to keep it so badly?”

There was a pause. Sebastian reached into his coat and removed this prized possession from the same hidden pocket it had been discovered in before. He seemed to study it in his hand. “I am not sure I could fully explain it myself,” he said eventually. “It is something irreplaceable… and I do not come across irreplaceable things very often in my existence. I suppose that makes it rather precious.” He smiled.

Ciel didn’t smile back. He narrowed his gaze at Sebastian, shrewd, before eventually closing his eyes. “Ugh… Listen. I don’t care if you were the one to pull them or find them or what have you. Those teeth are technically stolen goods, from me. So if you’re not going to give that stupid chain up, I do expect you to pay me what I’m owed.”

Sebastian blinked widely. “Oh? You want… money, sir?”

“That’s how the exchange works,” Ciel said, feeling a bit silly as he spoke it but trying not to betray this. “Even children are paid by their parents for their teeth, you know. Nothing in life is free.”

“Paid by their parents?” Sebastian snapped his fingers. “Ah, that’s right! Mr. Tanaka did explain this, didn’t he? You have something called the tooth fairy.”

Ciel sniffed. Right. Of course Tanaka had explained it. “Yes, the tooth fairy. When I was a child, I believe her rates were five pence per tooth, but I should say inflation has at least doubled the prices by now.”

“Is that so?” Sebastian said laughingly.

“I expect proper payment first thing tomorrow,” Ciel said, rolling over onto his side to finalize the transaction as well as the conversation. “And… go about your night duties with diligence. There are a lot of extra eyes around here now. Though their vision may be poor.”

“Of course, sir. Sleep well… and may good fortune find you in your dreams.”

It wasn’t good fortune that found him in his dreams, but that which he had been unable to name the morning of Sebastian’s “death.” The way the body lay on the floor, its chin tipped back at that uncomfortable angle, the blood spattered across its lips, dark hair fanned across the carpet, eyes staring at nothing… Had Sebastian known, somehow, that it was so much like how Ciel’s predecessor had looked in death? Had he known that Ciel would feel the cold hand gripping his heart at the sight? Ciel’s mind knew it. It played the images of the bodies across his eyelids until deaths of father and butler were indistinguishable from each other.

Ciel could not run away. He had to approach the body and sit upon its chest and look this amalgamation in its unseeing face. The Queen’s trial had given him no choice, and the dream behaved in kind. Death was right beneath him. Ciel could feel the pooling warmth of the body, could see the dull gloss of the blood. He longed, more than anything, to run from this. Instead, he leaned toward the head so his mouth was right next to the corpse’s ear.

The smell of death was in his nose. He didn’t remember what he was supposed to whisper. He wanted to scream. But then, suddenly, he felt a gentle pressure against the back of his head.

“Now, now, it is all right. You did very well, maintaining a brave front for so long. But now, you must simply rest.”

Then the hand pulled away with a sound like far-off bells. With its departure, Ciel was able to sit up again. But the corpse beneath him was gone. So was the blood and the smell. He whipped his head side to side, looking for who had touched his hair and reassured him, who had delivered him from fear, but he was answered only by that soft metal chiming that seemed to come from behind him yet far away…

7:30 sharp brought Tanaka.

Ciel rose slowly to the summons with the draining sense that he’d had suffered a terrible dream the night before. Or maybe it was just the whole gambit of events catching up with him… But it didn’t matter what it was. He had to get on with the morning, no matter what.

Tanaka was a quieter attendant than Sebastian could ever be. The silence seemed to cast a six-foot shadow across the room as Ciel drank his tea and read the paper. It was only broken when Ciel rose off the pillows to meet Tanaka in the dressing room, with a single little thump hitting the carpet.

Curious, confused, Ciel bent down to look at the floor. The culprit was winking up at him in the early sunlight. It was the shine of a ten pence coin.

For a moment, it puzzled him. Then his memory returned. The teeth… Ciel pulled back his pillow and, sure enough, there waited three identical coins. Exactly what he was owed and first thing in the morning, as promised. Ciel had nearly forgotten between the time of sleeping and waking. Of course Sebastian hadn’t.

Ciel sighed out his nose before plucking up each coin from the coverlet, feeling their edges dimple into his palm. It was a strange sort of reassurance. Metallic, cold. The coins were eventually tucked into his suit coat pocket, where they jangled together like far-off bells before settling.

That sound… Ciel strained but he could not place it. He only knew it was soothing somehow, and that the coins would stay with him for the rest of the day. Should his hand automatically travel to that pocket, he already knew exactly what he would find.

---

Note: This is the post that inspired the drabble. Thanks, Nana! 😊