#could he breathe underwater? fuck probably

[artificise]

"Becoming a member of the High Court instructs its acolytes in many fields," Artificer spoke, the blue holographic screen projected from her wristband tearing every so often with pixelated hiccups; coaxing a small hum from the woman as she typed. The illuminated keyboard accenting the hologram let out soft beeping sounds with every type; clearly another document that she would put either into the backlog to finish later. "I'm well equipped for medical checkups, as Seeker is currently below."

"You remember the basics, yes?" the Artificer spoke, voice characteristically flat as the display disappeared, but carrying a certain warmth and gentleness with each word spoken- better to talk him through it step by step rather than rush it and possibly scare him; considering the power he retained in his body, such an incident would be nothing short of catastrophic.

As Viend took a few moments to think, elongated clawed fingers tapping against smooth hollow metal before he hummed, the woman let out a relieved exhale. "I promise you that the procedures haven't changed much since the days of the Contact Light- though, I would like to be more thorough to understand your bodily composition after your.. unfortunate, affliction. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, do not hesitate to let me know."

"【Mm.」"

"Then, we should start slow."

Opening a drawer and retrieving a stethoscope-like device, the Artificer connected the auxiliary to her helmet port before placing the flat side upon Viend's chest; pale brows etching underneath her visage at the lack of sound; further gliding across his chest; ridged and scarred in places where his armor had welded to his flesh and become one with his form, only proved a further lack of results in her search.

"Are.. you breathing, at all?"

"『...can??t. Lungs- don'?t wor??k.】"

"...Interesting.."

The subtle sounds of shifting were clear, showing that her medical device had not broken, and yet.. the repetitive deep thump of a consistent heartbeat remained ever elusive, and any sign of breathing was absent.

Within his chest cavity was.. nothing, but silence.

[13uswntimagines]

I'll Take Care of You (Alessia Russo x MMA!fighter R)

Request: Could we maybe see some slightly more stern dom alessia dealing with r (doesn’t have to be smut) in front of the team because reader starts acting bratty with them?

Part of the same universe as the come down.

Warning: Slight touching but not actual smut. Also D/S fic

Author's note: Hey Y'all, i really hope you enjoy this. I want to point out that D/S dynamics are based on trust and communication, so that's what I chose to focus on. Alessia is a soft dom, and chooses a punishment that she knows will be effective. If you want to chat or have any ideas or comments, feel free to hit me up.

Gearing up for a fight was the equivalent of stretching out a rubber band to its limit. It was 8 weeks of nonstop training, 4 weeks of conditioning your body to shed water so you could make weight, 2 weeks of cameras following you around for UFC embedded, and 1 week of media bombardment where you had to listen to grown men act like 5-year-olds talking about who was going to beat who.

It was utterly exhausting. 

The only upside was that at the end of it, you got to step into the octagon and do what you did best. 

You got to put the plan your coaches drilled over and over into your brain into place. You got to release all of the built-up anxiety and frustration from camp. 

You got to fight. 

It was like coming up for oxygen after being trapped underwater. Sometimes the cage felt like the only place you could really breathe on your own. 

It had been your safe haven for almost as long as you could remember, which was kinda strange considering your health was put at immediate risk every time you stepped inside. It had been your escape from your family, and your only coping mechanism for as long as you could remember. 

To go through training camp, and fight week and the weight cut, only to have your fight pulled at the last minute was fucking devastating. 

It was like when Alessia brought you all the way to the precipice of an orgasm and then pulled away just before you could tumble over it, except far far far worse. 

It made your blood boil. It made the monster in your chest roar that your opponent couldn’t do his end of the job to make the fight go on after all of the shit he was talking. And there was nothing anyone could say or do to make it better. 

Dana promised that the fight would be rescheduled. He even threw in that if you won, you would be next in line for a title shot. 

But it didn’t help. 

The fight was set to be at the O2 arena, meaning your girlfriend and all of her teammates had been set to see you, and now they couldn’t. You couldn’t get your 10 training weeks back and you would have to do the weight cut all over again. 

It was a shit sandwich, and it made you feel completely out of control. It made you crave for someone else to put you right again. For Alessia to remind you that she had control always. 

Maybe that’s why you chose your satin button-down shirt to go to dinner with your girlfriend and her teammates and paired it with tight black skinny jeans. 

It wasn’t often that you liked to push Alessia’s control. That you toed the boundaries that she set, but tonight it felt like the prize comparable to stepping into the cage. 

With the little black dress she had worn, you really couldn’t blame yourself either. You could never resist when she showed off her legs. You were obsessed and she knew it. It was probably why she had chosen the outfit, to begin with. 

It was probably designed as a reward of sorts for after your fight, except you weren’t having a fight. So you supposed it was kind of like a consolation prize. 

Except you felt wound too tightly to really enjoy it.

“So that’s it, they just call the whole thing off?” Ella asked leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand.

“Yep,” You popped the p, your finger running a gentle circle on Alessia’s exposed knee. “I can’t even sign a paper that says I’m fine fighting him despite the failed drug test, and it’s too late to find a replacement even if we allow a catchweight,” 

She let the movement continue, the hand wrapped around your shoulder gently squeezing the arm furthest away from her. 

While she was relieved that the rules prevented you from fighting a man on steroids, she knew how gutted you were about the cancellation.

“Probably for the best mate,” Leah said, sipping her wine. 

You shrugged, letting your finger trail a little higher on Alessia’s leg. 

It was slightly too… forward for the steakhouse her teammates had chosen, but with the dimmed lights you figured no one could see your hand under the white tablecloth anyway. Not with how close you were sitting to your girlfriend. 

“I already made weight, so it’s kind of a waste,” You muttered, dragging your nails up the inside of her thigh to just below the hem of her dress. “I’ll have to start camp all over again unless I take something short notice,” 

“Can you do that?” Mary asked, from your other side.

You shrugged again. “I told Dana I was game if he needed someone to fill in, so we’ll have to see,” 

Alessia’s eyebrows pulled tighter together “You didn’t tell me that, love,” 

“Didn’t I?” You asked, feigning dumb, as your fingers finally made it past the hem of her dress. “Must have forgotten. I’m excited to see you all play on Tuesday though,” 

You ran your nail across the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh, dangerously close to her center. But before you could make it any further, her free hand caught your wrist, and repositioned you so your hand was resting very innocently near her knee again. 

“Ireland is always fun to face,” Ella smiled at you. “Should be a bit chippy,” 

“I’ll definitely be rocking my MacCabe jersey,” You matched her expression, your thumb again beginning to rub circles into Alessia’s skin. 

Leah frowned, dropping her menu. “You will?” 

“Absolutely,” You smirked, wiggling your eyebrows and slyly trailing your thumb back up Alessia’s thigh. “Gotta support my favorite foul-mouthed Gooner,” 

Leah’s eyes went wide, and Alessia squeezed your shoulder. 

“And what about me?” Your girlfriend asked, a pout pulling at her lips. 

You wiggled your eyebrows, a witty remark at the tip of your tongue, knowing it would piss her off, but the tension in your chest made you unable to stop yourself. 

You wanted to push her. To force a reaction, even when you knew all you had to do was ask for what you wanted. 

“Are you ladies ready to order?” A waiter asked, appearing behind Leah before you could let it fly. 

You let your smirk widen, closing your menu with a thud and making eye contact with the waiter. 

“Since she’s not on the menu,” You started, leaning closer to your girlfriend for just a second, edging your hand even further up her thigh until it was again past the hem of her dress. “I think I’ll have the tomahawk, medium rare with a Yorkie and the roasted carrots please,” 

You winked at the waiter for good measure as the table giggled and Alessia’s cheeks turned bright red. 

The waiter cleared his throat, turning his attention to your girlfriend. “And for you ma’am?” 

Alessia opened her mouth, probably to order, but you cut her off instead. 

“She’ll take the sirloin, medium with the Orzo and kale salad,” You said, reciting her normal order with perfect precision. “And she’ll be having me for dessert later,” 

More giggles erupted from your friends, and you dragged your hand impossibly higher, extending your pinky so it brushed against her underwear. 

She inhaled sharply next to you, sending you a warning side eye as the rest of the table continued to order, but she didn’t immediately remove your hand. 

You ignored her warning, letting your pinky slide over the satiny fabric of her underwear. 

It wasn’t what she normally wore, and you couldn’t help the wolfish grin that took over your features. 

She had worn lingerie for you. 

Maybe that should have stopped you. Made you consider that you wouldn’t get anything if you kept pushing, but again you couldn’t seem to help yourself. 

“Will you be in the Ireland friends and family section then?” Leah asked, wiggling her eyebrows at your girlfriend. “Cause I don’t think my family or Less’ will enjoy you wearing the opposing team’s jersey,” 

You made a noise like you were considering it as you finally slid your hand up and cupped your girlfriend’s heat. “I don’t think I’d feel at home though. Surely your family can deal with it right Less?”

Alessia nodded once, very stiffly. “My family loves you no matter what you’re wearing,”

You smiled impishly at her, adding just a little more pressure to her core. 

She shifted in her seat, leaning very close to your ear, as Ella started talking about some movie she and Joe had watched, taking the attention of the rest of Alessia’s teammates. 

“They’d even love you if you had to wear your collar at the game,” She chuckled darkly in your ear, her voice soft enough to get lost in the noise of the restaurant as her free hand yet again caught your wrist and pulled your hand back to a much more innocent position. “Now behave, or I promise you’ll regret it,”

You pulled away, your devilish smirk only getting broader. “No,”

Her eyebrows furrowed her expression something between anger and concern and warning, like she was trying to figure out why you were pushing the boundaries when you never did before. 

You wiggled yours in return, offering her nothing else before joining the conversation of her teammates. 

You weren’t ready to talk yet. 

You were too content digging yourself deeper and deeper. 

*****

You continue to push Alessia all throughout dinner, taking every opportunity to make her blush or to creep your hand further up her thigh. At one point you had even wiggled a finger beneath her underwear before she could stop you. 

And your behavior hadn’t stopped once you left the restaurant. 

You definitely placed your hand far too low on her waist as you and your friends walked back to the hotel the UFC had rented for you, and winked cheekily at the fans as you entered the building, spending far too long signing things and flirting just to annoy your girlfriend. 

You knew from the “come on darling,” and the way she wrapped her arm around you, her fingers closing gently around the back of your neck that you were in serious trouble as she led you into the hotel and to the elevator. 

“Good luck mate,” Leah nodded towards you as she stepped into her hotel room after Mary and Ella. “Think you’re gonna need it after that show,”

She tilted her head toward your girlfriend glaring a hole in Leah’s doorframe. 

“Good night Leah,” Your girlfriend bit out, pressing her thumb into the space at the very center of the back of your neck.

Leah rolled her eyes at the movement, well aware of the dynamic between you and your girlfriend. More aware than most of her teammates for both club and country because of how long you had known her. “Right you two, do have too much fun,” 

You stared at the door for a long moment after it closed, the tension in your chest bleeding down to your stomach.

You knew your time was up. That you would have to pay the piper so to speak, and it had guilt swirling along with the unpleasantness. 

You knew that all you had to do was utter a word and it would all be over. 

You knew that Alessia would stick to your limits, no matter how hard you pushed her, but you couldn’t help the… lingering anxiety that came from your past relationships. 

The ones that took advantage of your submissiveness, and the unhealthy way you had always chosen to deal with stress. The ones that ignored your pain for their own pleasure. 

 “Come on then,” Alessia said, very gently running the nail of her thumb down the length of the back of your neck, and squeezing your shoulder. 

You hummed, allowing her to lead you down the hallway to your own hotel room door, but she paused before she opened it. You looked up at her, realizing suddenly that you were trapped between her and the door. 

She stepped closer so your noses were nearly touching. She dragged her hand from your neck to your chin, using her thumb to tilt your head to where she wanted it. 

“I love you,” She said, her voice soft and sincere. “No matter what,”

She leaned in the last centimeter separating you, connecting your lips in a very sweet kiss. 

You leaned into it, opening your mouth when her tongue poked out, welcoming it and meeting it with your own so they spun in a slow dance. 

It was the reminder that you desperately needed. 

The promise that she would take care of you, even when you acted like a brat. 

She pulled away just enough to disconnect your lips, and your mouths separated with a low pop.

“Remind me of your colors,” Alessia said, her thumb running across your cheek. 

“Green for good, yellow for slow down, and red for stop,” You recited, your voice breathless. 

“Good girl,” She hummed. “Open the door, and take off your shirt and pants once we get inside,” 

You swallowed hard at the change of tone. 

“Yes Miss,” You said, already pulling the key card from the back pocket of your jeans. You didn’t look away from her as you fumbled until you heard the lock on the door beep, and clumsily pushed it open. 

You stumbled backward, unwilling to break eye contact with your girlfriend because you knew you would probably get very little of it tonight. 

She turned away from you as soon as the door slammed shut, busying herself with something you didn’t know. 

“I believe I told you to do something,” She said, not even sparing a look over her shoulder at you, and you realized you had been staring for too long. 

You cleared your throat, your fingers trembling as they unbuttoned your straining shirt. 

You carefully pulled the satin materials from your shoulders, folding it neatly and laying it on the bed before you started on your pants. 

It took you three tries to undo the button, the zipper getting caught in the stretchy material of your boxers. You peeled your tight jeans down your legs, folding them and placing them next to your shirt. 

You felt Alessia’s presence behind you as you pulled off your shoes and socks. 

As soon as they had been placed in their rightful place, her hand found its way to your bare back. 

The touch was soothing and grounding and exactly what you needed to combat the slightly floaty feeling in your brain. 

The hand slid up your back, all the way to your neck. 

“Kneel,”

The soft squeeze on the back of your neck was like magic, as was the soft, but stern order. 

You sank to your knees without question, your butt resting on your heels, your hands facing palm up on your thighs, your back straight and your head bowed, as the tension in your chest slowly ebbed away.

“I think we need to have a chat,” She continued, the hand on your neck sliding up to run through the hair at the base of your skull. Her nails scratched soothingly at your scalp. “Because your behavior in the restaurant is not the behavior of the good girl I trained,”

You grunted, glaring at a spot in the carpet. 

You didn’t want to talk. 

You already had to talk to Dana, to your coaches, and to the media. You had nothing left to say. 

“Do you want to tell me what that was about at dinner?” She asked you, the fingers on your scalp wrapping through your curls. She gave it a sharp tug, forcing you to look up at her. “Because I’d really like to know what the fuck you were playing at,” 

Her blue eyes burned into you, concerned and… something else lingering below the surface. 

“I wasn’t playing at anything,” You grit out. 

She raised a perfect eyebrow at you, as she searched your face.

“Is this because your fight was canceled?”

You didn’t answer her, unwilling to admit how… off balanced it made you feel. 

But that was enough of an answer for her. 

Her eyes softened minutely. “Baby,” 

You shook your head. 

You didn’t want her sympathy or her pity. 

You wanted her to crush you. 

“Alright,” She signed, tilting your head back so far it was painful. “I’m going to give you 2 options. We can call Clarke and Lexa and they can run you through a workout,” 

You shivered at the mention of your respective striking and jujitsu coaches, knowing already that whatever the alternative was, you would be choosing it. 

“Or you can take a punishment of my choosing,” She finished. “It won’t be an easy one,” 

“I’ll take a punishment,” You muttered after a beat. 

You didn't need easy right now. 

She hummed, holding you close for a long second, and you relished in the attention. 

That had been why you acted out at all anyway. 

She dropped her hold on your hair suddenly, and you crashed back on your knees. 

“On the wall,” She said, completely cutting contact with you, and walking towards the little kitchen area of the suite. 

You let out a shaky breath, pushing yourself to your feet, and shuffled over to the wall next to the television across from the couch. 

You turned to face the couch, wincing when Alessia pulled a wine glass out of the cabinet and a jug of water from the counter and returned to you. 

She carefully filled the glass to the halfway mark, before her attention turned to you. 

You knew immediately what punishment she had chosen. 

The rules were simple, you would balance the glass in one of the designated calisthenic positions. If the water spilled, or the glass fell then you would move to the next position. The punishment would be over when you made it through all 15 positions to Alessia’s satisfaction, or if you safeworded. 

It sounded easy, or like it wouldn’t be effective, but that was entirely wrong. It was the punishment that you hated the most. 

Your stomach never failed to drop when Alessia approached you with the wine glass and water. Just the sight of her with it was enough to have your muscles quivering at the impending fatigue. 

“Ready darling?”

You made a low sound, leaning back against the wall, bending your knees, and getting into the first position. 

A wall sits with your knees pressed together to focus the pressure on your quads. 

She used a hand on your shoulder to push you further down the wall until your thighs sat parallel to the floor, and then very carefully balanced the stem of the wine glass between your knees so the base just barely brushed your hamstring. 

You frowned. She usually balanced it on top of your legs further up your thighs so all you had to do was stay level. But where it was now meant that you would have to stay level and squeeze with your adductors so it didn’t slip and spill the water. 

“Tell me your color,” She said, her thumb sweeping under your chin, drawing your eyes away from the glass to meet her blue. 

“Green,” you murmured, leaning into the gentle touch. 

“Good,” She hummed, cupping your cheek for another long second before she pulled away. “I’ll be right there, reading my book,” 

Your gaze trailed after her as she settled herself on the couch directly across from you, picking up the 7 Husbands of Evelyn Hugo. She easily found her page and began to read. 

You glanced back to the balancing glass between your knees. It was already shaking slightly, the liquid vibrating around the bowl of the glass with the effort of your muscles to keep it in place. 

It irritated you that you could already feel your quads and adductors quivering. It was pathetic that they were already fatigued after only 30 seconds. 

You grit your teeth, letting your hips slip down further so you could squeeze with your glutes to take a little bit of the pressure off of your adductors. The glass shifted minutely, and the water inside sloshed dangerously before it settled. 

Your eyes flickered back up to Alessia, wondering if she saw it too, but her eyes stayed planted in her book. 

That irritated you too. 

The only upside to your fight being canceled was that you got to spend more time with her. You wouldn’t have to split your attention between her and not getting your face caved in. 

Now you didn’t even have that. 

You thought of safewording and forcing an early end to your punishment. It would be a violation of the rules though.

But when she found out that you broke her trust (the most severe infraction you could ever commit) she might choose a more… harsh punishment. One of the ones that was listed in the soft limits the two of you had agreed upon. One that would separate you from reality, and leave you feeling floaty and thoroughly controlled. Thoroughly owned. 

A part of you wanted her to forcibly put you in your place. To disregard how bad it would feel tomorrow and the bad memories it would bring up for you, and just demolish you. To crush your will and grind you into dust. To beat you into oblivion. 

It was what your opponent would have done anyway. 

You knew Alessia would never agree to it while you were this upset. She didn’t like to give in to your self-destructive tendencies. 

The glass between your knees shook again, drawing your attention back to the warm fire setting deeply into your quads. They would ache tomorrow you were sure, but then again wasn’t that part of the point?

It would be a reminder that even when she wasn’t with you, you belonged to Alessia. It was an invisible mark that claimed you. That reminded you she would always take control when you felt dangerously unstable. 

And then it clicked.

This punishment was Alessia’s favorite because it was based on your choice to obey her. Your choice to push your body to its limits to please her. Your choice to give her control over you. 

She didn’t need to use a belt or a paddle to bend you to her will. 

She just had to ask. 

You just had to relax and trust that she would take care of you. 

You let out a long breath, counting down from 3 in your head. You let it fall back into the wall with a low thump and your shoulders sagged, as the remaining tension in your chest drained out of you. 

“Good girl,” Alessia said softly, and the page of her book turned. Your eyes darted back to her, hoping that they would be on you, but they weren’t. 

She looked so composed, both legs tucked under her, reading her book. It was diametrically opposed to how you felt, completely out of control. A quivering mess fighting to stay in a simple wall sit. 

It further reminded you of your place, and the weight of it was enough to have your eyes sliding closed. 

You focused on your breathing, 3 seconds and 3 seconds out. Deep and slow. 

You lasted for more breaths before the glass slid from between your legs, landing on the carpeted floor with a light thud. 

Your eyes snapped open, and again you expected to meet Alessia’s eyes, but they remained trained on her book. 

“Next please,” She said softly, flipping another page in her book. 

You slid down the wall to the floor, sucking in another long breath as you nodded, wishing that she would just look at you, but you knew that was part of the punishment too. 

You took another breath as you rolled over to your stomach and sat yourself up on your elbows, squeezing your core. It was a slightly modified plank designed to show off the muscles in your back and arms for the benefit of your girlfriend and to give your legs a break for a bit. 

She waited until you were in a position to stand, slowly padding over to you and grabbing the wine glass off of the floor.

She paused next to you, and you felt the way her eyes dragged across the muscles on your back. 

“Always so pretty for me,” She hummed and you heard the water as she refilled the glass. “Too bad you can’t have the reward I had planned,” 

Her touch lingered as she carefully balanced it between your shoulder blades, and stepped away. 

“Let’s see if you can beat your best time on this one,” She said, talking more at you than to you. “Your record is 22 minutes, which isn’t quite championship timing. I think you need to make it at least 25,” 

You groaned. 

Her competitive streak was legendary and often a part of your punishment when you had been particularly ornery. You switched positions at her pleasure, so you knew you would be planking all night if you couldn’t break 25 minutes. 

It was like when she decided you needed to break your edging record. 

There would be no mercy unless you safeworded. 

You focused on your breathing as she sauntered back to the couch, fighting to keep your core and back muscles locked to prevent the glass from tipping. 

Your abs clenched, and you so badly wanted to roll your shoulders to relieve the tension building in the space between them. The space holding the glass. 

You focused on the sound of Alessia’s breathing. Each rhythmic inhale and exhale like the clicking of a metronome, broken only by the occasional fluttering of a page. 

You wished she had put the timer in front of you so you could see how long you had left. 

But then again that would probably be worse. 

You always found it harder to go the distance in a fight when you could see the clock ticking down. It always made you feel more exhausted at the end of the round, and made standing up off of your stool at the start of the next round that much harder. 

You sucked in another breath, refocusing on the sounds of Alessia’s inhales and exhales. You counted each one, letting them wash over you and lul the fog slowly seeping through the crevices in your brain. 

It let you forget the trembling in your core muscles and the sting between your shoulders. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was each of Alessia’s breaths, and your ability to please her. 

To be honest, you forgot about the water balancing on your back. 

You shifted, lifting your head so you could watch Alessia, and that sent the glass tumbling to the floor with a low thud. 

She looked up at the noise, pushing herself to her feet and grabbing the glass. 

“Good job darling. You made time.” She rewarded you by meeting her eyes for a long second and flashing you a winning smile. “Position 3,” 

You took another deep breath as she filled the glass. 

You pushed yourself up into a pushup position, slowly lifting your right arm and left leg so they extended. 

Your arms shook immediately, and it was then that you recognized just how exhausted you were already. Your core ached in a way that was edging on unpleasant, and your back felt like you had run 5 rounds with your jujitsu coach. 

It was strange that you felt so drained and you had only made it through 2 positions. 

Alessia waited until you were stable before she balanced the glass in the very same area between your shoulder blades. 

The spot that felt so tight.

You knew you weren’t going to last long before she even stepped away. But you tried to breathe through it. You tried to ignore the little beads of sweat collecting at the small of your back, and the cramp setting in just below the glass, radiating up to your neck. 

You deserved the pain. You had done your damndest to make sure Alessia gave it to you. 

“Tell me your color,” Alessia said, her voice dripping dominance, sending a shiver down your spine and causing the glass to tumble off your back. 

You collapsed to the floor. 

You hadn’t even made it a minute. 

“‘M ok,” You murmured into the carpet, each breath rattling as it left your lips.

You hadn’t even lasted long enough for Alessia to make it back to her seat. 

It was pathetic.

“That’s not what I asked you,” She said, crouching next to you, her hand resting on the throbbing space between your shoulders. “Tell me what your color is,” 

Your brain ran into overdrive, taking stock of the burn in your thighs, and the way the muscles in your back were locked up tight, and before you could even think through all the reasons why you shouldn’t safe word, “red,” was falling from your lips. 

You had been red before you even started position 3, you realized. 

“Good girl,” She said, settling fully down beside you, her hand running soothingly up and down your sweat-soaked back. “You did so well for me, and I’m so proud of you for knowing your limits,”

You groaned into the carpet as warmth spread through your chest, chasing away the last of the tightness that had been there since Dana caught you after the weigh-ins. 

“‘M sorry for pushing you,” You mumbled, your words nearly getting lost in the floor. “Didn’t know how to…” 

You trailed off, losing your train of thought. You weren’t even sure what you didn’t know how to do, only that antagonizing your girlfriend. Your miss. Had been the only way that seemed to make sense to achieve it. 

“I know darling,” She hummed, gripping under your arms and shifting so your head was resting in her lap and your upper body was between her legs. “Take some deep breaths for me, and then we’ll get you cleaned up and we can cuddle,” 

You made a low sound of agreement. You felt content with her completely around you, her scent enveloping you, and her hands running gently through your tangled hair. 

She was the stability to your rocky seas, and you trusted that she would take care of you, just like she had already tonight. 

A cuddle sounded perfect because it was perfect. 

It was everything you needed. She was everything you needed. 

[auspicioustidings]

Mermen au with mer TF141 and researcher reader trying to learn about their. . .biology :Dd Or them trying to bring progressively bigger fish trying to woo and then Ghost ends up bringing you a fucking orca or some shit,

...I had to look up the reproductive cycle of several marine animals for this I hope you are happy.

Deductive Reasoning

Words: 1.3k

CW: ...light fish porn (?)

It was just fascinating. It would have been dreadfully difficult to not talk about this every chance you got and thus break your NDA if not for the fact that you never left this secure little island base. You were permitted to, but why would you want to? You were speaking with living, breathing mermen almost everyday.

4 of them, although they had alluded to their being more out there. These 4 were a... well that was the question wasn't it? Only one shark did not make a shiver, only one seal did not make a herd, only one walrus did not make a rookery and only one mandarinfish did not make a shoal. Was there a collective term for mermen? You were told you were now the leading researcher in the world for this new species, so perhaps that meant you got to decide.

Or maybe you'd just ask. They spoke to you sometimes, or at least made noises. They seemed to understand each other at least which was intriguing on its own.

It had been Soap you had met first. You had been basically abducted and hurried to this island facility where they had captured a real life merman. You were enamoured immediately by the furious thing in the tank. Half seal, harbour seal you thought. Top half looked all but human (skin must be different to allow for underwater living and ah, yes, you could see gills), hair in a mohawk (which suggested someone had cut it to look like that, who? Was it a ritual? Did they have community? Was it an emulation of human culture? Perhaps some mating strategy?), eyes somewhere between human and seal (his physicality was a similar story, he was built strong and thick, a healthy layer of fat over hard muscle).

You perhaps felt a little bashful looking back. You had been so wildly excited, asking a thousand questions and going into chaotic science mode that it took you a whole 16 hours of straight observations and notes to realise there was a creature of higher intelligence being held captive in a tank. You did, of course, apologise profusely. He clearly did not understand what you were saying, but the emotion was human enough. Bemusement.

Soap had come about because he was slippery. Well, actually he wasn't, but the story was that he was slippery. Because if the military knew you had actually been helping him escape you were probably going to get disappeared. It was lucky the facility at that time wasn't as high security, you had gotten away with it.

You had met Gaz right there on the coast when Soap went slicing through the water. You thought looking back that Price and Ghost had probably been there, just out of sight. They had come for him. Gaz was a magnificent thing. His tail was the same pattern as a madarinfish, bright orange with gorgeous blue markings. You had shown him a tin of irn-bru once with a grin and learned then that Soap could laugh. He had come right up to you and after some form of exchange with Soap had been playful, showing off his tail and holding his hand out to you. You had been existing on caffeine and noodles so hardly your fault you took it, getting dragged into the water.

Oh how thrilling an education you received in the courting practices of Dragonets! He had made quite a show of displaying his fins, including a gorgeous dorsal fin on his human looking spine. You knew you simply must see them again if only to study why Gaz's eyes were more human while Soap's leant towards seal like. He was certainly the most expressive of them. His name had only come about because you had tried every other one and he made his disdain for them very clear. By the time the merman had been rubbing what you would call his ventral fins against you, Soap had grabbed you and soundly deposited you back on shore. Just in time too for the soldiers to find you because the doctor later told you that you were in the early stages of hypothermia. Totally worth it actually.

You talked the powers that be into allowing your pet projects to free roam, after all they kept coming back to see you. Over the course of a year the facility was upgraded and a channel added from the sea to an indoor pool that would allow for better study. Soap and Gaz didn't run on a schedule exactly, but they seemed content to swim in every so often and let you poke and prod. Fascinating that they should both be half human but their other half was so entirely different. Soap was half mammal, retractable penis something he was very proud to show off anytime he was in the observation pool. Gaz was half dragonet, and while you tried to put a clutch of eggs in the pool to see if he could fertilise them he had only raised an eyebrow at you and tried once again to pull you in. Tough luck, you had learned your lesson about going into the water with them when you had met Ghost.

It had been the middle of the night when he swam into the pool. Silent, you hadn't heard him (that's where that name had come from in the end). So unsuspecting were you that you were too near the edge and his hand had snaked around your ankle, one sharp pull dragging you in after you fell to the ground (hardly avoiding a broken nose). It wasn't only his tail that was shark, he had a sharp set of teeth that he sank into the meat of your shoulder without much ceremony. His claspers had been strong as hell holding you there, the only thing likely saving you his frustration at your clothes. He must not have understood the concept very well because he released you and dove, pawing at your trousers to try and figure them out. It was an endless source of fascination for him anytime he visited after. He would lean his arms on the pool edge and just stare at your legs, tracing the outline of your body with his sharp eyes. It only seemed fair to let him look since you spent an inordinate amount of time staring at him. He was sleek and muscular, every inch an apex predator in his prime.

It was a contrast to who you would say was the leader of their group. The merman who had saved you from Ghost that first time you met him, who had ripped him away from you when his teeth had sunk into the meat of your thigh through your trousers. Price had hauled you out of the water with ease. He was part Walrus, huge and soft with a layer of blubber similar to Soap's that hid considerable strength. Of all of them his animal half was most pronounced, his canines elongated into tusks and his hair thick and whisker-like around them.

As a scientist you could not possibly play favourites. Price was absolutely your favourite. He would be still and patient with you when you were working with him. He would gently run his fingers over whatever parts of you were in reach. When you babbled excitedly he seemed to listen as best he could.

If you had taken more than a moment to really look into it, you might have realised you were not the only creature conducting research. If you had used some deductive reasoning, you probably could have anticipated that fateful day you were dragged into the sea, never to be seen by the human military again.

[grotesquedarling]

All Yours.

Toby Rodgers x Werewolf!Fem!Reader

Summary: You are assumed dead, after going on a walk and not coming back. Toby finds evidence of the 'death' and thinks the worst. You return hours later, your ability to heal not working well. Toby helps you clean up, which leads to much more.

A/N: This is a one-shot for a story I am writing for Toby, where reader is a werewolf. If anything is confusing in this one-shot, God I pray not, it is connected to my story and things will fall in place as I post it! Divider made by cafekitsune! Please go easy on me, this my first time writing smut, or anything really, in about 2 years, due to writer's block, so things may be clunky.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI!, P in V, descriptions of violence and murder, no protection. (If I have forgotten one, please let me know!)

Word count: 3k

“Wh- What now?” Toby yelled. “Sh-she is d-dead!” He was getting worked up, stuttering more than usual.

Tim and Brian couldn’t do anything, nothing that would be helpful anyway, so they listened. They listened for so long they were to the point of ‘listening’. Which consisted of sitting in the room and dissociating while looking interested.

Toby was getting louder, pacing faster, unsure of how to handle the situation. “Are y-you even li-listening to m-me? SHE’S GONE!”

Before Tim or Brian could say anything, there was a loud bang on the cabin’s front door. As soon as all their eyes shot in the direction of the sound, the doorknob was ripped from the door, leaving a gaping hole where it once was. A few bloody fingers could be seen going into the hole to open the door.

The door swung open and there you stood, bloody and bruised. The three men looked at you in awe and confusion. 

“How-?”

“Don’t fucking speak to me,” you growled, “I am going to take a shower.”

Toby just stood there, unable to process the fact that you were actually alive, you may have looked like shit, but there you were, covered in blood and looking hotter than ever. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As the cold water started to run down your body, the dried blood and dirt washed away. The images of the people that had been mauled, maimed, and mutilated didn't go anywhere, though, as a matter of fact, they just lingered and kept replaying.

“Shut up! You stupid fucking cunt, just stay down. Quit fighting back, you won’t win.”

A hand grabbed your hair as you were being yelled at, dragging you over to the lake you had been brought to to be thrown in after being killed. The thought of not being able to swim crossed momentarily, it was gone as soon as it seemed to come. Staying conscious was getting harder by the minute, eyes trying to close and breathing was almost impossible.

Unsure of what to do, a last burst of adrenaline hit, right before getting dunked into the lake. Your hand wrapped itself in the hair of the woman holding you, and dragged her off the dock with you.

Fighting underwater was not as easy as one would hope for in this situation. All you could do was hold on to the throat of the woman trying to murder you. If you’re dying, so is that bitch. Time felt almost as if it was slowed, as you waited for the bitch’s partner in crime to try to help her, he never showed.

Even struggling was hard, but losing is something you were never okay with, you had to win, or not die. Finally, life seemed to have left the woman, but you weren't about to let her trick you. You pulled yourself above the water, dragging the woman with you.

Your hand scrunched a bunch of the woman's hair, and quickly, with all the strength you could muster, you smashed her head into the dock, probably a little more than what would kill her. She will not be coming back from that one, you made sure of it.

As you finished, you stood up and looked down, blood was everywhere, yours and your attacker’s. You had no time to worry about that though, there was a man, somewhere close, who also wanted you dead. Blood loss and pain seemed to start setting in as you reached the grass, knees bruising as you hit the ground.

“What the fuck did they do to me? Why am I not healing? And where the fuck is-?”

Dead. As soon as you saw something, or someone, out of your peripheral vision running off, you noticed the guy was way beyond dead. You gave the woman you left on the dock one last glance, there was absolutely no chance she was coming back, unless someone were to gorilla glue her brain back together.

With both of them dead, you took a few minutes to lay in the grass, in the hopes that regulating your heart rate would start the healing process. It did not.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Tears fell down your cheeks as you sat on the floor of the shower, the back of your head against the wall. Pain was something foreign to you, considering your healing factor, but the healing wasn’t happening, not as fast as usual anyway. The pain was almost unbearable, but the feeling of possibly being dramatic due to never having to feel pain for long seemed to cross your mind.

Unaware of how long you’d be sitting under the warm water, you realized it had been at least 20 minutes. The water started to get cold, the change in temperature wasn’t a bother, considering you run hot anyway, but that meant someone would be checking on you soon, probably Toby. You two had gotten close recently, very close. Too close, according to Tim.

Keeping your composure under the cold water was getting hard, the adrenaline had worn off and everything hurt. Suddenly, you were hyper aware of every bruise and open wound you had, your legs hurt, your body ached, and breathing started getting hard again. A panic attack hit.

A heavy knock hit the bathroom door, and the door opened. The realization of how loud you were sobbing seemed to bring you back to reality. Trying to speak to Tim, who just slung the bathroom door wide open, was impossible at the time, the only thing coming from you were sobs.

The shower curtain moved to the side ever so slightly, Tim’s eyes met yours as you looked up at him, curled into a tight ball, knees against your chest.

“He wanted me to check on you first, can he come in?” Tim seemed to be hiding the worry he had for you, hoping that if he didn’t worry, Toby wouldn’t worry as much. That didn't work. Toby peeked over Tim’s shoulder to see how fucked up you were.

“G-get out Tim,” Toby shoved Tim aside and out the door. Once the bathroom door closed, Toby just stared at you for a minute, taking in the wounds that were not healing. “Why are you st-still bleeding? I th-thought you-.”

Your eyes stayed glued to the wall in front of you, unmoving as your head rested on your knees. Words weren’t coming easy, the panic attack seemed to subside, breathing still seemed to be a big task, and you felt mentally numb.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Toby crouching now and knew he wouldn’t go away without getting the information he wanted and making sure you were okay, and since being okay was not a thing at the moment, he would not be leaving.

“If you’re just gonna sit there and stare at me like that, you might as well get in.” You deadpan, eyes still glued to the wall. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

His eyes widened, “I-I,” he stuttered out, shocked by your offer. “I’ll h-have you know, I haven't ever s-seen you n-naked by ch-choice. You don’t l-lock doors.” He was flustered, but he wasn’t going to turn down the offer. He started to remove his clothes, and quickly.

While trying to stand up so Toby could get in the shower, stars filled your vision and put you right back on your ass and a little yelp left your throat. You leaned into the wall again, completely and utterly ready to give up.

Toby sat down beside you, both of you completely vulnerable, and seemed to be scanning the severity of the damage to your body. He was quiet, more quiet than usual, it was almost scary. His eyes finally made his way up to yours, tears started streaming once again. Never in your life had you wanted to be held so badly, you had always been able to be independent and take care of yourself.

With his eyes still locked on yours, the words ‘hold me,’ slipped from your lips. Without hesitation he pulled you into him, causing you to wince with how fast and rough the action was.

“S-sorry,” he whispered as he gently loosened his grip on you. His fingers started tracing the bruises on your arms, then stomach, then your thighs. Something about him having to be gentle with you for the first time, made you feel a way, you couldn’t tell what that way was, but it was nice.

Leaning into him was a lot better than leaning on that hard ass wall, as he continued looking over your body, you listened to his heart as your head rested against his chest, regulating your own breathing and heart rate.

Pain started to slowly subside, your chest was not as tight, and the anxiety had melted away. Healing still wasn’t happening, at least not fast enough, it only seemed to be slowly coming back, and being the most impatient person in the world it might as well just be not working.

“I don’t understand why I am not healing,” you thought aloud, “If you're done looking at my tits from over my shoulder, will you help me just clean up? I feel absolutely disgusting.”

Toby was flustered once more, and hid his face in your shoulder for a moment. “Y-yeah, I can,” he whispered before helping you up.

Being in such a vulnerable state with you was something he never thought would happen, at least not when you first met anyway. Something about the innocence of sitting with each other, naked in the shower, made him want more than that. He was craving you, in so many different ways.

His impulse control was in overdrive but now, he didn’t want to hurt you, he was supposed to help you clean yourself up. All he could think about, though, was having his way with you. His hands were a little shaky now, trying not to think about grabbing you and pushing you against the wall. That seemed to be the only thought his brain could manage to give him, he was getting frustrated.

“You know, as a werewolf, I can smell many different pheromones, and I-,” you were quickly interrupted before you could finish the sentence.

“Sh-shut the f-fuck up!” Toby practically shouted. “You s-stink and you need h-help showering, let me f-finish helping you.”

“How about I help you after this, then? If I’m not too sore anymore.”

The look on Toby’s face was of pure confusion, “with what?”

You shook your head, “Let’s just finish here first.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Toby caught on a lot quicker than you thought he would, you hadn’t seen him move that fast and sporadic before. He needed you though, and when you offered yourself to him, even with the state you were in, he was not going to let opportunity slip away.

Your healing seemed to be back to a semi-normal speed. All you felt were light aches and any open wound looked like a gnarly scar, but they were closed up and not bleeding. What more could someone ask for?

“What the fuck were you two doing in there?” Brian asked, but quickly took the question back. “You know, don’t actually answer that. You two share way too much information already. Pretend I never asked, I am leaving.”

As Brian walked away, Toby practically dragged you to his room. His excitement was unmatched. He has wanted to do this since you two beat the shit out of each other sparring, which was about three weeks ago. Something about you looking feral unlocked something within him.

The thought of you scraping your sharp canine teeth across his neck, bringing blood to the surface while riding his thigh was something he never knew he wanted or needed. He wanted to be buried deep in your pussy, he wanted to be between your thighs, he wanted, no he needed to have you in every way possible.

Toby couldn’t decide what to do first, his thoughts were racing as you stood behind him while he locked the door. Once it was locked, he turned to you and lost the little bit of composure he had left. He grabbed you and ripped the shirt you had just put on after the shower completely off your body, and pushed you down on his bed.

Now all that was left on you was your panties, his focus wasn’t there yet, though. His kisses were sloppy yet held so much passion. His hands seemed to wander your body as he started kissing down your jaw line and making his way to your collarbone.

A small gasp escaped you when his hands finally found their way to your breasts. The way he squeezed them made you think he’d been waiting for the moment. The way he held onto you in general made you wonder how long he’d been wanting this. You had to admit, you had also been waiting for this, the way Toby had been acting around you, the way his glances started lingering, or how you could hear his heart rate change slightly when he’d see you.

His lips were back on yours now, and he was growing more and more desperate by the second, he whined a little as he started grinding into your thigh. You smirked when you realized how needy he was. He took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You could tell he didn’t know what to do next, the way he moved, twitched, and whined into the kisses. Pulling away from his lips for a moment caused him to become confused, but when your hands moved down his chest and started pulling at his pants he realized you weren’t trying to get away, you were helping him. A giggle came from you when you saw the look on his face.

“Wh-what? D-did I do something wr-wrong?” He was slightly worried.

As you shook your head, your hands went to his hair and pulled back into a kiss. He seemed to melt into you. He was so rough, even while trying to not be rough, then there was you. So gentle and loving. Despite being some sort of monster, you were just so patient, it drove him crazy, he loved it.

“I, I don’t kn-know what to d-do first.” He stuttered through his kisses.

Deciding to take things in your own hands so he wouldn't have to decide, you flipped him onto his back. His eyes went wide, he forgot about your strength, he was not going to argue though. With you on top, he seemed to be in awe. The way you looked was angelic.

“Are you ready?”

All that came from Toby was a whine as you went to sit on him, but you were going slow, way too slow. His hands grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise you as he forced you down. He started grinding up into you, and moving your hips whichever way he wanted, there was no rhythm, just random thrusting.

Now it was your turn to whine. Your hands rested on his abdomen and your claws started to come out. A growl escaped you, as your hips rocked in a more rhythmic way, syncing with his.. The moans and little growls rumbling through you were almost enough to get Toby to cum then and there.

His grip tightened on your hips as he started controlling your movements again, very sporadically. You didn’t care though, you were close too.

“Toby, I’m…” was all you could manage before a warm feeling came over you and you were orgasming. Your head went back and your eyes shut tight, and with your pussy clenching around his dick as you rocked your hips through your high, Toby quickly found ecstasy after you.

A string of moans and cusses came from Toby as he rode out his high with you still on his dick. He didn't want you to move, not yet. His grip on your hips was so tight by now that his knuckles were white. It felt as if he was making sure this was real.

“F-fuck,” He managed to moan out. “That was s-so much b-better than any of the p-porn I’ve ev-ever watched.”

You giggled again as you rolled from the top of Toby to the side of him. You laid your head on his chest for a moment, just listening to his heart. You gently kissed his cheek, before throwing your legs over the side of his bed and putting on a shirt that was on his floor. You were almost certain it was not a clean shirt, you used it though, just in case Tim or Brian came in and saw you with absolutely nothing on. Not that they would ask you any questions about what you were doing though. They have learned their lesson asking that one too many times. 

“I don’t know how much longer they will be gone, but I have to pee. When I come back-”

“We’re fucking even ha-harder. I have s-so many th-things I want to try wi-with you.” Toby was very serious saying this, but laughed a little, until he heard Tim and Brian walk in through the front door. He wasn’t going to be able to do anything with you now, they would complain about the noise.

Brian was quick to speak as he walked in, “We’re back, please don’t be fucking in my line of sight.”

Tim shook his head at that statement. “I am going to bed, if you are fucking, do it quietly,”

“They are such party poopers. Looks like it’s bedtime at the old folks home. Whatever, you good if I sleep in here tonight? That couch is going to give me tetanus with those rusty springs stabbing me in my ass cheeks.”

Toby looked from you to his bed, and gave you a strange look. “Your bed is way more comfy!”

“H-how do you kn-know that?”

“I take naps in here when you’re out or whatever.” You spoke matter of factly. The two of you stared at each other, unblinking for about ten seconds. Toby sighed, and promptly made a small  space for you.

“D-don't make this a habit.”

“Sleeping in your room? We just fucked in your bed. Shut up.”

[paceprompting]

hallucination or not

written for ‘chill’ wc: 858 # | steddie | rated: t | cw: blood, mention of death | tags: post season four, near-death experience, rescue mission, protective steve

@steddieholidaydrabbles

Dustin had gone, finally convinced to leave Eddie where he was.

Torn apart at the sides, blood seeping out into the ground. He could hear his heart pounding still in his ears, but the beats were getting longer and longer pauses between them—slowly aiding in killing him the more it fought to keep beating.

It didn’t hurt, not anymore. Not like when the bats' fangs and claws had dug in and ripped away at him until the pure weight of the hoard forced him to his knees.

He’d left Eddie alone, and it hurt even though Eddie had forced him to go.

Eddie stared up at the red and shadowed sky, his own wheezing breaths his only deathbed companion. That and a few dead bats splayed out on the ground beside him.

The blood underneath him was warm on his hand, which he couldn’t move as much as it made tears spill from the corners of his eyes because his blood was spilling out and he could touch it but he couldn’t fix it.

His blood was warm, but he was so, so cold.

God, he was leaving Wayne all alone.

He’d be homeless without the trailer, subject to the temperamental kindness of a small town. But he was probably better off without the dead weight of an accused murderer and cult leader nephew hanging around him. Once Eddie was dead, Wayne was free.

His original plan to do that was just to leave Indiana. But needs must, he guessed.

Eddie forced himself to take a shaky, wheezing breath. Because dying was fucking difficult, apparently, when the body was meant to keep going until it couldn’t anymore.

Did he even want to die?

He was going to, that’s for sure. But how long was he going to fight it?

His heart was still beating, too slow, but stubborn. He could feel it in the ground.

Or, no…

It wasn’t slowing, it was speeding up. Too fast for a real heartbeat, and getting stronger.

Not a heartbeat.

Footsteps.

Eddie tried to look, but his head wouldn’t move.

The vibrations in the ground grew closer, and Eddie could nearly hear the pounding that preceeded a blurred shadow coming to an abrupt stop beside him. The momentum carried them forward, over Eddie’s eyeline and after a second, the sight focused.

“Steve?”

He was hallucinating, now. His brain was fritzing out as he lay there dying, and it had decided to torture him in his last moments with the vision of the boy he could never have. He looked just as Eddie had left him in his battle gear, if more dirtied and bloodied. Like he’s been through hell.

Last they’d seen each other, Steve and the girls had gone off to face the real monster.

He wanted to believe Steve had made it out.

Another weight appeared at his other side, like hands laid on his arm. Eddie strained to look out of the corner of his eye, and was even further confused.

“Rob..in?”

He couldn’t get enough air, but did that mean his brain was really adding in more people as an audience to his death?

Eddie closed his eyes, but he could still hear the voices. Muffled, like being underwater. Almost familiar, if he could just make out the actual words.

“Henderson, shut up,” Steve snapped and Eddie opened his eyes, barely about to make out curls and waving hands just out of his line of vision. Hallucination Steve rubbed at his temple, smudging the blood and dirt there. “I need to figure out how to carry him, and you in my ear is not helping.”

No, Dustin…he can’t be there. He can’t watch Eddie die.

Hands touched at his neck—Steve’s hands, he realized, as he came back into view. Pressing hard to try and find Eddie’s fading pulse. His hands were like fire against his chilled, frozen skin, and he felt tears burn down his cheeks again.

He had to believe this was a hallucination. Because if it wasn’t…

Everyone was putting themselves at risk to end up just like Eddie. And he didn’t deserve it.

Steve’s hands fell away, taking their warmth with him.

“Give me your jackets. All of you,” he ordered, yanking his own of and laying over Eddie’s torn-up body. Eddie could feel weight, but nothing else. He was still cold, even when Robin and Dustin added their jackets.

“Eds. Eddie, hey. I need you to look at me.” Steve cradled his jaw and turned Eddie’s head. He was getting fuzzy, but Eddie could swear there were trails of wet tears through the dirt on Steve’s face.

Steve leaned closer, so all that Eddie could see, could hear was him.

“I’m going to carry you. It’s going to hurt. We will not leave you here.”

Eddie wanted to tell him no.

But he didn’t have the air left to speak.

And there was a chance now, maybe, that he could hold on long enough to tell Wayne goodbye. That Dustin’s last memory of him would be with some hope as he was wheeled off to some emergency room.

He couldn’t get there without Steve.

[arcanarix]

Make That Double, Ch4 - Yan!SatoSugu X Fem!Reader [AO3]

Word Count: 5.1K

Warnings: non-con, PIV sex (protected), cunnilingus, lactation kink, mommy kink (all with geto)

Gifted with supernatural abilities or not (Sorcerers are a thing? For real? Something like this still difficult for you to accept!), there’s one downfall about both Geto and Gojo you know you can exploit.

The fact that they’re still men.

After what’s unfolded in the underground, Gojo stays behind for a little aftercare. You’re amazed the two even believe in it, all things considered. You’re snuggled between them in a large bath, full of Epsom salt, bath oils, bath bombs, even a few rose petals to add a little more zing to the vibe. And the only light illuminating the place is the tea light candles they’ve garnished around the tub. Perhaps this is to butter and soften you up around them, or it’s more between them since they’re already established in some kind of weird arrangement themselves. You’re not sure if you can call it a relationship.

Geto has a more protective hold around you while Gojo is content just lounging in the steaming hot bath water. Geto traces his finger lightly down your arms, murmuring something into your ear.

“How do you feel now?” he questions, kissing the crown of your head. You shift a bit in place. There’s not much room between the three of you. You’re practically wedged between them. The slightest movement or little wriggle of your body, and you can feel either of their dicks brushing against your thigh or hip underwater. You fucking loathe every minute of this, but it’s better than them violating you, you suppose.

You don’t respond. Gojo glances at you, assessing you with a curious twinkle in his eyes.

“That’s her first time feeling real dick inside her, and we didn’t even move. Of course she’s still feeling a little overwhelmed,” Gojo interjects with a disapproving frown. “I guess you’re right. We should have taken things a bit slower, but you got carried away too, Suguru!”

They talk about you like you’re not even in the room with them. They’re checking off a long, long, loooong list of things that really pisses you off, huh? Beyond the stalking, kidnapping, killing innocent people, violating your body…and all that hunk of shit.

“True,” Geto agrees while absently twirling a strand of your hair. You fight back the urge to wince. You hate how touchy these pricks are. “I just find her difficult to resist.”

Gojo’s brilliantly, blindingly bright sky blue stare bores into you as a toothy smile graces his features. “I guess I can’t blame you there. But come on, I was playing nicer than you were! You are so full of shit.”

And you know what they say about men not only being stupidly easy to bend or manipulate, but also being stupidly competitive?

A light bulb goes off in your head. You try to keep your expression neutral. Sure, you’re pissed as all hell at these guys, but you have to learn how to play the long game like you told yourself before.

“Satoru’s right,” you pipe in, as you pry yourself away from Geto’s embrace and snuggle into Gojo’s bare chest, your finger tracing over one of his pecs. Geto’s arm splashes the water as you pull away. He’s probably taken aback from his lack of immediate reaction. “He’s been nicer. Gentler. Like a lover should be. Isn’t that right?”

You lean into his ear as you end that sentence with a low, sultry purr, blowing a bit of air into it. You feel Gojo’s breath hitch as he cages you more tightly into his hold, fully secured in his warmth. You don’t react right away, but you wish you could, because the pride swelling in your chest that that was that easy is unbearable in the best way possible.

“But of course, Princess. You know I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” he murmurs as he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. Geto’s stare now bores into your back, his jaw slackened. You try not to grin. Not yet, at least. You bite down the urge hard because of how fast this is working.

To add fuel to the fire, you sigh dreamily into the kiss, your free hand cupping one of Gojo’s cheeks as he deepens it.

Now Geto growls under his breath. Bull’s eye.

“Remember what we’ve discussed, Satoru,” he warns, and with a hearty laugh, Gojo pries one eye open to glance at Suguru. “I hope you remember why I allow this in the first place.”

“Hmmmm…I believe we discussed something about me playing fair when it comes to her, and you know I am! I’m not doing anything wrong here,” Gojo taunts back, before twisting his head and twirling his tongue against yours, shutting his eyes again.

“Satoru,” he growls again, simmering in the bath now as he shifts in his spot, the water sloshing slightly as he adjusts, supporting himself against the edge of the tub. Stewing in his own bullshit and you wish you can pry your eyes open to sneak a glance, but you want to play this up a bit more. Favor one over the other sometimes. Find other ways to push their buttons…or at least figure out the proper buttons to push. That’s what really grinds anyone’s gears, but especially men like Geto and Gojo. They are as prone to rivalry and proving to each other who has the bigger sword as much as they are prone to being a team of menaces.

And if a girl like you is on the line? Well, as long as you play your cards right and don’t end up having to fold, it can’t hurt to mess around with this.

Besides, don’t you think you deserve a form of entertainment since you’re having to endure so much crap? Of course you do!

Gojo breaks the kiss only to drag his tongue along your jaw, his eyes glinting in a mischievous manner as they lock on Geto, still stewing in his anger and bullshit. You feel your heart leap and backflip in joy. What a sight! It’s a small win, but a win’s a win and you know you’re not going to have very many of those. You may as well soak it up like a sponge.

Or like your fingers are the bath water…

“Oh, come on, Suguru,” he purrs, as one of his hands glide down your stomach, eliciting a shiver out of you. He quirks an eyebrow as he judges his old friend. “Just teachin’ ya some manners. Like man, maybe you got to read another one of those self-help books on how to please a woman or something. You could seriously use it.”

You bite your lip as you wait for Geto’s retaliation, but shockingly, he has nothing to say in response to that. He only scowls as you snuggle in more into Gojo, and Gojo’s dreamy sigh only seems to piss Geto off even more. What if Geto doesn’t want this arrangement in the first place? He only does it because he still cares about Gojo.

(Not that you care, but it’s something to take into account.)

You really hope you aren’t starting bigger fires. But it’s not like they’d hold back on you, either way, no matter what they insist otherwise.

Remember, you’re playing the long game here…even if you might not win in the end, it’s better to put up a fight than to not try at all.

Geto is still a bit lenient with you when it comes to anything sexual. Which you’re not complaining about in the slightest. It leaves your mind more space to think about your upcoming assignments and exams; this is your last semester and in spite of everything, you’re almost done.

The girls do seem to enjoy spending time with you, which makes all of this a little more bearable. You try to fish for any other information you can about Geto out of them. Anything you can use. You’re not some person gifted with supernatural gifts, but you are gifted with common sense, a hint of street smarts and intelligence.

You doubt it’s going to be enough.

At some point, you do run into some other members of Geto’s ‘family.’ Suda, you have met a handful of times since your first day there. She’s his secretary who doesn’t make any effort to engage with you, but she does send a lot of dirty looks your way. Another member you meet is named Miguel, a sorcerer who hails all the way from Kenya.

You have to admit: the guy’s handsome. But he’s guarded, aloof, keeps mostly to himself, and most of all, he doesn’t seem entertained by your presence in the slightest. But since he respects Geto, he’s supervised you a handful of times while you did any group work with students online.

Just to ensure you don’t try anything stupid.

The computer Geto has given you, you learn, actively records everything you do online anyway. It’s not like you can bypass it. And only Geto can lock and unlock everything for you.

You’re watched like a hawk with everything you do. Even if you call for help, nothing can save you from what these beings are capable of, anyway. You’re not going to drag innocent strangers into this mess. You have to find another way.

One evening while you’re walking back to Geto’s bedroom, you accidentally brush against Miguel. You bow your head and apologize, but he grunts to himself.

“You being here isn’t right,” he mutters, leaving you dumbfounded as he scurries off. Like not right as in ‘you don’t belong with them’? He’s so right about that, but you can’t help but wonder if there’s something you missed.

Not like you can afford to dwell on it. If you’re not back in the bedroom before Geto returns, you have something bigger to worry about then.

You close the door behind you, sighing in relief when you notice he’s not returned from some business he had to attend to that you didn’t care to pay attention to and hear about.

You disrobe, clad in just your lacy undergarments like he expects, before sliding under the covers of the unbelievably soft bed. That’s one perk out of this. The bed back in your apartment isn’t the nicest. You can appreciate the smaller luxuries here.

You release a huge breath of relief. Some time to breathe before Geto pollutes your personal space again.

Oh, how wrong you are. It seems you can’t get too comfortable. The door creaks open and in strides Tweedle-fucking-dee.

“Hello, little dove,” he greets with a small smile before shutting the door. “Did you have a lovely day with the girls?”

You nod, hugging the blanket to your chest. “They were content in letting me play Animal Crossing with them.”

“Sounds like a peaceful time,” he replies as he crawls into bed with you, scooping you into his arms and pulling you flush into him. His finger traces your lips as he affectionately gazes down at you. “I’m glad to see you’re adjusting better than I expected.”

You say nothing, averting your gaze. This all feels so…ugh.

Remember what else you can do?

“Suguru, why do you allow Satoru access to me?” you inquire, feigning innocent curiosity.

His eyebrows flash at that question.

“We just tend to share,” he answers, fiddling with a lock of your hair. Your lips purse.

That doesn’t sound convincing.

“We?” you probe, scooting closer to him. Play this up as much as you can. “Or he? Because it doesn’t sound like you’re happy with the idea. Isn’t this about the girls’ happiness, ultimately? So that they can live with a functional family?”

“I want to give them a healthier upbringing than I had, indeed,” he concedes with a hum, snuggling you closer as he nuzzles his nose into your collarbone. “But Satoru is special to me too. It won’t be much longer until he can no longer see me, anyway.”

Healthier upbringing? …He must see the irony in that confession, right?

You cock your head slightly, parting your lips, as if inviting him for a kiss. “Why’s that?”

“Politics,” he answers smoothly, accepting the bait and pecking your lips. “Regarding sorcerers.”

“Oh. Um.” Words die on your tongue, as you’re unsure where to go from here.

“It doesn’t concern you, little dove. You don’t have to worry about it,” he assures you, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple before his lips trail lower, stopping between your breasts. He breathes out slowly, as if willing himself to relax. He peppers gentle little kisses along your chest before he unclasps your bra and tosses it carelessly away.

“Suguru…?” you murmur before a gasp interrupts you as he fondles one of your breasts. His calloused thumb brushes over your perky nipple a few times, before pinching it between his fingers.

“The medication worked faster than I expected,” he whispers, dragging his tongue between your breasts. You let out a breathy moan. Your breasts have definitely become more tender and sensitive, drawing more reactions out of you that certainly please Geto to no end. While he hasn’t been so handsy on you since the last time Gojo came for a visit, he hasn’t let go of his particular fixation on this. Feasting on either these or on your cunt, depending on his mood. “You have the sweetest milk… I can’t stop thinking about it.”

How the hell are you supposed to react to that?

He playfully bites the little bud, making you whine from the light sting, before he sucks the nipple into his mouth. Groaning low and guttural as the rush of liquid hits his eager tongue, gulping it down dramatically.

He removes his mouth for a moment to speak.

“My pretty dove,” he coos, pressing a kiss to the drenched nipple. “My pretty Mamma.”

A record stops in your brain. Your eye almost twitches.

….what. The hell.

You know he wants you to be a mother to the twins, but…but…what the actual hell is this?

“I….um…” your voice fades like the end of a soundtrack. You don’t even have a comeback to that. It’s probably best you didn’t, because Geto raises his head to meet your eyes, his own violet hues shimmering with lust and something else too gut-wrenching to name.

Whatever it is, it’s probably some twisted amusement at your aversion to the way he addressed you.

“What, don’t like the idea of me submitting to you? Mamma?” he purrs, nuzzling his face between your breasts, kissing between them. You clench your teeth, biting down the smart retorts dying to slip from your cannon of a mouth. Not like you have any real power even if he did.

His fingers ghost down your waist and hips, and you shudder, chewing on your lip to bite back a moan. “Do you like it when I call you that?”

“Hell no,” you retaliate in a sharp tone, and a sadistic grin spreads across his face.

“Even better,” he jives, before seizing your opposite nipple and suckling hard, eager to drink more of your essence. The glug, glug, glug from his eager slurping and sucking makes you flush from embarrassment. It’s so gross. You hate that now you have to not only mother the girls, but to fulfill some more weird ass shit for Geto.

His lips come off your drenched nipple, finally, to give him a few moments to breathe but then he snakes down until his head is caught between your thighs. His fingers rub against your clothed pussy, tongue running along his lips.

“I think you’ve had enough time to cool off in the last two weeks since Satoru visited, don’t you think?” he muses out loud, peeling your panties aside to reveal your perfect cunt already coated in a light sheen from your slick. “Oh? Someone’s enjoyed themselves and they won’t admit it?”

Fucking piece of shit, you sneer in your mind.  

Two fingers dip between your folds, sliding along them before they infiltrate your entrance.

“Suguru,” time to see how far this can go. “Satoru was way nicer back there. Why can’t you be like that?”

Geto freezes, but his fingers don’t exit, instead he continues to pump them in and out of you in a more slow, careful manner.

“Which of us do you prefer, Mamma?” he mutters, curious. “Do you really think he is more adept than I in treasuring you? He’s not even going to be here as much anymore.”

“Hm? Am I allowed to give you an answer, Suguru?” you retort in that feigned clueless tone, tilting your head. “I think you know the answer. But I am curious. Why do you let Satoru get under your skin like that, when you’re the one in control?”

Suguru bites back a sigh. “…It’s complicated, Mamma. Something you can’t understand.”

Oh, how you loathe the fact that he can talk to you like that.

Dragging out a mock sympathetic sigh, your hand rests on Geto’s hair as his fingers idky pump in and out of you. He purrs in approval before his mouth descends on your cunt, closing his lips over your folds and slurping on your slick.

“Suguru,” you whisper, “Put Satoru in the back of your mind. He’s not here most of the time like you said, so why does it matter what I think of him when you have me all to yourself now?”

You ignore the bile threatening to ooze from your mouth. God, this alone is dehumanizing to you, even if Geto insists you’re above such treatment.

“That’s true, Mamma,” he replies, his voice muffled against your soaking cunt, his tongue still eagerly laving along the sensitive skin. “And he won’t be back for another month…some mission with his students.”

“So then,” you reply in an uncharacteristically sultry tone. “What have you got to worry about, darling?”

He growls in approval, suckling harder on your slick folds, and you inhale sharply. Guess he likes being called that.

“You’re right,” he grunts, pulling away to speak. “You’re all mine.”

You just keep telling yourself that, buddy.

It’s not hard to tell Geto might have a strong oral fixation. If he wants to he would definitely stay like this, but he has his own duties to fulfill (none that you care to learn about), and you’re just his pretty little trophy.

God, life is such a thing, isn’t it?

You do have to admit he’s far too good at this to be real. Had he been a real lover and you might have enjoyed this a lot more…

He adjusts your legs, pushing your knees toward your chest as he rolls his tongue along your slick cunt. The little flicks of his tongue against your clit are soft yet just firm enough to make your back arch off tbe bed.

“That’s it, Mamma. Let go. Let me take care of you,” he coos before his tongue probes your entrance.

You hate that it feels kind of good. His grip on your legs tighten, his finger pads digging into your skin. His tongue works its magic, pushing into your gummy walls and you’re writhing, almost keening beneath him. You’re gonna come. When you do, it’s in a crescendo and all Geto does is laugh in pure delight.

Quiet times with the girls have come to be the moments you largely prefer. Mostly because Geto keeps his hands to himself and you find that the girls are the least of your worries. They are more or less easy to please. As long as they have the pleasure of your company, you don’t have any qualms or issues with them.

Geto still likes to keep close to you, though. Whether that means you sitting right in his lap around the twins or just seated next to him while they do their own thing. Either way, you’re not leaving his line of sight no matter what.

He adjusts you a bit, snuggling you in close to his chest and you can smell the notes of citrus and sandalwood from his strong cologne. Strangely a comforting scent never mind it’s radiating from his body.

Nanako and Mimiko are facing behind you while they do a few rounds of Mario Golf. Their attention’s completely away from the two of you so occasionally Geto’s hands will go to places where they shouldn’t but it’s not like you have a voice here. His large, calloused hands are resting on your thighs, fingers brushing against the skin ever so slightly. The robe is absolutely for easy access. Why make the job unnecessarily difficult?

“Suguru?” you whisper, audible enough so only he can hear you. You lift your head, nuzzling into his shoulder. Just play the long game. Don’t lose sight of your goal and that’s finding a way to get the fuck out of here.

“What is it, Mamma?” he whispers back, matching your tone. His eyes shine with something akin to affection. How quickly it seems he let his resolve around humanity crumble around you, at least. Perhaps he wants you to disengage the barriers you have around yourself. Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter, because you don’t care, either way.

“It would be wise to be less indecent,” you warn in a low tone. “You want to be a better lover to me than Satoru, don’t you?”

“Of course, haven’t I proven that already?” he retorts as his hands venture to cup your ass cheeks. You curse under your breath. This guy really isn’t different from Gojo in a lot of ways. Tweedle-fucking-dee for sure.

He grabs one of your hands before you can have an appropriate reaction, guiding it under his robe, on his pelvis where he makes you caress his growing erection.

When the girls can glance behind them at any time to see their adoptive father behaving less than decent.

“Help me with this, and I’ll keep my hands off of you for the rest of the week if that’ll make you happy,” he demands into your skin before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Around the girls?” you retaliate harshly, careful not to raise your voice.

He lifts one of your legs to shield the view a bit, in case the girls do cast curious glances, which they indeed will.

“Better, Mamma?” he purrs, while guiding your hand before you move it on your own, utilizing the soft palm and heel of your hand to stimulate him. He bites back a low grunt, careful not to draw attention to the two of you while the girls are engrossed in their own worlds. It’s better for them that way. Better not to taint their innocence any more than it already has been, right?

If you can even call those girls innocent given how casually they discuss such tragedies they have witnessed so young in their life.

“Not by very much,” you finally answer through your clenched teeth. An idea flashes in your mind, but you don’t know if you can execute it well. It’s worth a shot.

“Don’t you think it’d be a bit better if we had a little more privacy, darling?” you ask while batting your eyelashes to sweeten the deal—no matter how gross you feel doing this—and all the while tracing little patterns along his clothed, straining erection that you can feel dampening. “As tempting as this is, I’d prefer if you could be freer to express yourself.”

“You’re right, Mamma,” he replies, glancing at the girls with a neutral expression before hoisting you up into his arms princess style. Your knee pushes against his pelvis, where you can still feel the dampness from his leaking cock, concealing it from sight, but barely. “They won’t miss us much.”

He effortlessly carries you away from the living area and strides down the hallway leading to his bedroom. You won’t ever call it yours; you don’t belong here, just like that family member of his told you. You have spared yourself some embarrassment, at the very least, as he rests you on your back on his bed with shocking gentleness.

“I know this will be your first,” he growls into your neck before trailing heated kisses along it while fully disrobing you. “But I will follow through on my promise. After this, I won’t touch you like this again for another week. That makes you happy, does it not?”

Like he actually cares, you think, but rather than rebuking with a snippy reply, you nod in response and a slow smile graces his sharp features before he pries your legs apart. He tuts when he notices you aren’t wet enough, inspecting with a few of his fingers digging into your folds. Your breath catches in your throat.

“There’s always a solution to these things.”

He moves to gather the appropriate supplies—lube. And a condom. He actually cares enough to wear a condom this time.

“I don’t want there to be any…unfortunate mishaps,” he states, as he wraps himself with a clean condom before squeezing a liberal amount of lube into his hands. “I don’t care to breed for more sorcerer children, considering the chances of that are already slim to none…I’m already happy with the family I have. You, the girls, the cult…Satoru…”

He pushes two fingers coated in lube into you without so much as a warning and you arch your back into the bed, gripping the sheets. He chuckles at your reaction, shaking his head.

“Even though you’ve experimented so much with your own toys, the way you behave is just so cute. So innocent, as if you don’t have your own dark, filthy desires you want to fulfill,” he babbles as he stretches you with a third finger. “It’s misleading considering what you choose to wear beneath your clothes, and what Satoru has found rummaging through your dresser. You want something like this, don’t you?”

Your face drops at that little tidbit of information—so they  have been watching you for longer than you think, even going as far as invading your space? Before you even know they existed? This is insane.

“Not like this,” you confess, squeezing your eyes shut as the way he stretches your walls with his fingers burns so good but you don’t want to admit it. Even if it means staying in his good graces. As if you truly give a damn for no other reason than survival. You dare to prop yourself a bit on your elbows, glancing down as Geto continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Sometimes he takes the time to admire the way your hole gapes, his lips parted slightly. A line of drool trickles down his chin and you grimace at the sight. What a fucking animal.

“Oh, you poor thing,” he coos condescendingly, popping his fingers out of your entrance while lining his protected cock to it. You swallow. It’s so huge. Sure, Gojo’s is big too, but not in terms of girth like with Geto’s.

Your eyes squeeze shut as a breathy shriek escapes your lips when the head finally breaches you. He coos and whispers sweet nothings to you, tries to comfort you by kneading your plush thighs as he inches the rest of his cock until you’re filled to the hilt. The stretch is so wide, brushing against your walls. Tears brimming at the corners of your eyes as you try to adjust. It’s nothing like how Gojo’s felt; it’s nothing like how your toys felt either because you have never taken anything nearly this size…

Geto cages your body with his, hands pressed to either side of your head as he leans into muffle your little whimpers and whines with a passionate kiss. He experiments with one gentle thrust, chuckling as your hands fly to grip tightly at his shoulders.

“Calm down,” he murmurs, having the gall to actually tell you that is maddening. “You’re alright. You’re taking me well. You feel perfect. So tight. Satoru must have really enjoyed that.”

Your eyes are still squeezed shut so you don’t bother to glare, just clinging onto him for dear life as he spares you with a few more gentle thrusts before finding a rhythm he’s happy with, because this is for his pleasure. This is all about him and nothing to do with you. Just smile and bear it. That’s all you can do here.

…Well, not all you can do.

“Stop thinking about Satoru unless you want me to bring up how much better his dick felt in there than yours,” you challenge as you dare to pry at least one eye open to get a view of Geto sprawled all over you with his dick balls deep inside. His body is already coated in glistening sweat and, in another world, you might have thought he was the hottest thing in existence. But you know the kind of ugly he is beneath those angelic features of his.

“Why are you telling me that, Mamma? Are you trying to upset me?” he shoots back, rolling his hips and thrusting harder, making you choke on a gasp. He smirks at that reaction in triumph.

“I’m telling you that to remind you to be better for me, darling,” you reply, sliding a hand down his hips, digging your nails as he adjusts his rhythm. Your eyes roll back as he hits that right spot, and, encouraged, he adjusts his rhythm again, brushing against that area over and over and over—

“—Fuck, Suguru!” you shout as you come, clenching around his girthy cock which feels surreal but horrifying considering this is not how you wanted your first time to be like. Even if it is technically good.

“Feel good, Mamma?” he purrs affectionately, but you can feel his dick twitching and he still feels so hard, like he’s got a long way to go before this is done. No wonder he’s offered a week of recovery following this… “Did I make you feel good?”

You bite back the menacing words you want to say and settle on, “Yes, darling. You made me feel so good. Now keep making me feel good so that you don’t have to be compared to—!”

“—Stop saying his name,” he growls, snapping his hips as he picks up a more erratic rhythm this time, rocking the bed and even making it creak a few times. “He’s not relevant here. This is about us, Mamma. Me and you. I get to make you feel good for as long as I desire, do you understand? Everything about Satoru is out of sight, out of mind here.”

Men are still men, in the end, you figure.

He doesn’t stop until finally, he comes, slipping his flaccid dick out and tossing the used condom away. But he doesn’t seem to want to stop at just one, as he tries to stroke his cock back to being fully erect.

He winks at you, grabbing another condom to slip back on.

“I’m sure you can tolerate a few more rounds, Mamma.”

[lsunstreakerl]

I'm not sure if this is because I have a lot of sympathy for Lewis, want him to hurt, get a hug (or all of the above) but I could absolutely see him tempted to go on a bender after he learns.

Like right after Max leaves, the silence he leaves in his wake. How does he even move on from that? Maybe I'm not a well-adjusted person but I would go on a bender from hell after that.

uhhhh I think I checked all of the above here :)

Nico clears his throat behind him.

Lewis is standing in the hallway still, feet rooted to the floor, Roscoe in his arms.

"Lew- I think you should come back inside."

Nico's voice is soft, gentle behind him. Nico hasn't been gentle with him in years. Decades, even.

Lewis wonders what it says that he's doing it now.

He swallows, a lump in his throat as he turns, letting Roscoe back down to the floor as he steps inside the flat.

Everything feels like it's underwater, through layers of muffled noise. Nothing like the actual race day, when he thought his eardrums would burst from the cheers, because he won Silverstone, his home, took the cocky brat down a few pegs-

Lewis feels like he's splintering. Not a cocky brat-

Max.

Not down a few pegs-

Slammed into his car, slammed into the walls, rattled inside his helmet at 51g, snapped so hard his eyes are damaged and his brain is damaged and he's out, out for good-

"Lewis, you're shaking."

Nico's hand rests softly onto Lewis' shoulder, and he recoils from the touch, because he has no right, none, to get soft things right now, not when he's-

When he's-

"Nico,"

His voice wavers, slightly wet, and Lewis hasn't felt like this in a long time, where everything is quiet and still, where he feels like he's teetering on the edge of... something.

He feels like a balloon, like everything inside him is expanding and won't stop, and the pressure is almost too much-

"What if I'd killed him."

His voice cracks, and it's- it's fucking eating away at him, started splintering inside as Max had walked away.

His sweater is still damp where Max had cried into his shoulder.

Seeking comfort, comfort from Lewis, even though it was Lewis who hit him, Lewis who lost himself in adoring hands-

He feels his nails digging into his palms.

Every pat on the shoulder, every adoring fan, and Max had probably received the same amount of hands on him, but it wasn't love, it was medical gloves and equipment, it was monitors and medicine, because-

Because of Lewis.

Max could have died, and Lewis wouldn't have known, and still he'd wanted Lewis to forgive him, like there was anything there Max needed to be forgiven for.

He blinks rapidly, and suddenly Nico is in front of him, arms wrapping around his waist.

"It's okay, Lew. Let it out."

Lewis doesn't want to let it out, Lewis wants to shove it in a box and let it fester, wants to never touch it again.

When he breathes out it's a sob, and he's gripping Nico as he squeezes his eyes shut, because for the second time tonight someone is going to cry about this accident.

"Fuck, Nico."

He takes another rattling inhale, and then he's stepping away, slams his closed fist onto the marble countertop.

"Fuck!"

He turns back, and he's sure his eyes are wild based on the way Nico is watching him warily, but he doesn't care.

"What is with this damn sport, huh? What is it about these fucking cars and these teams, why does it just- just eliminate the humanity in any of us?"

"Lewis-"

"I never once checked on him, and it's not because it was water under the bridge, it's because I didn't fucking want to know, because I'm not stupid, none of us are, we all should've known there would be serious consequences from that kind of crash-"

He hits the countertop again, feels it all cracking and crumbling to pieces inside of him.

"This sport, man. It turns kids into enemies- he was never- I shouldn't have-"

Nico steps closer, still wary, but his hand is gentle on Lewis' shoulder.

"You're not above it, Lewis. It does that to all of us."

Lewis sinks into the barstool, head in his hands.

"I'm supposed to be better than that, Nico."

"You can't be everything at once."

He laughs, but it's cracked and brittle.

"And whose expense is that at, huh? Certainly not mine."

[calp0sa]

Favorite Headcanons for airy?

i have like 10 million headcanons for him but i’ll list as many as i can from the top of my head

-hes autistic LIKE ME!!! and is specifically very autistic about music (like meee) i like to think he had a huge collection of vinyls cds cassettes etc and its all stuff from the 60s to the early 90s. no doubt he had a bunch of posters for his favorite bands and musicians too. and hes awesome on the guitar, great rhythm guitarist… its a shame he couldn’t make his talent a profession like he once dreamed of doing. oh well, at least the number 1 perk of trucking is that its peaceful and you dont really have to interact with many people! plus trucks have radios, and cd players, so airy would often bring along a few albums to listen to as he drove those long days and nights.

-hes also got a knack for aquatic creatures (LIKE ME) of course, being a literal fish monster himself (cool fact my airy design is like actually a fish monster he can breathe underwater and everything and his limbs are covered in fish scales) airy loves fish both as friends and food. hes particularly fond of freshwater fish, which makes sense considering the fact he grew up around the swamps of louisiana (yes im making him louisianan Like Me shaddap) hes also fond of those fucked up looking deep sea creatures, just so fascinating. i think airy liked to do a little fishing in his spare time. And hes awesome at cooking em but fair warning for those with a low spice tolerance… he loves spicy food btw (like meeeee)

-when airy was in the forest, he kept a log of his thoughts on the computer, in an attempt to hopefully give himself whatever clarity he could. the notes ranged from all brief, to desperate, to hopeless, to spiraling, to borderline dadaist poetry? to insanity, to denial, to whatever, really i think his mind was obviously all over the place on a daily basis. things must have been pretty loud for him, that cassette player was probably one of the only things keeping him together, before he numbed himself n all, which is around the time he ceased writing these notes as he saw no point in doing so.

-ok enough about him suffering we’ll get back to that later Airy’s favorite drink is ginger ale i mean look at that guy and tell me he doesnt fw ginger ale or dr pepper are you kidding me. he can have dr pepper as a little treat (too much soda is bad for anyone especially if youre an old feller like airy) speaking of little treats i like to think he has an insatiable sweet tooth LIKE MEEEE and his favorite treaaats are pumpkin pie, macarons and practically anything chocolate he loves chocolate (im like allergic to not projecting onto my favorite characters if you couldnt tell) maybe airy knows how to bake a little bit i mean he is an object show host after all

-this is oddly specific but airy is a chronic pain warrior #JUSTLIKEME so when he was in the forest he’d make like home made heating pads by wetting a glob of moss and putting it against his face while he had his flame on (he sometimes put it on a plank over a bonfire if he felt like it) this was a bit tricky when he broke his face but im sure he managed he always manages (kinda) (relatively speaking)

-well anyway we’re back to the forest and i just mentioned his broken face So you know how he disappeared for seven months after he did that lol well what if it was because the pain and shock from that incident evoked the long lost clarity he’d been so stubbornly avoiding in order to cling on to his meaningless, fallacious escapism which triggered him and sent him into a state of agonizing self consciousness, reminding him of his earthly death, how he used to be Someone, and how he essentially let himself rot into what is now an empty shell of who he once was. after so many years, the first reflection he saw of himself was seen in something broken; shards of glass, of which he couldn’t stand to look at… as there is nothing comparable to the pain of revelation, the burden of truth after having been so lost and festered into the stagnant waters that surround you. he felt he had no choice, he disposed of the shards into the nearby stream. those seven months were not just a matter of physically healing, but as a means to losing himself all over again.

-Aaaanyway i think airy had a cat at some point in his life i think we can all agree hes a cat person right!!! he had a tortoiseshell kitty named goose and he loved her very much. idk why he named her goose he probably just thought it was funny to name an animal after a different animal.

-OH YEAH lemme bring amelia into this listen i am such a huge fan of the theory of airy being related to amelia so i like to think hes her uncle!! when amelia was little she’d stay over at airy’s house while her parents were away and he’d teach her stuff like how to fish, how to ward off snakes, how to kayak, all that jazz cuz he was an awesome uncle. she was kinda like an actual daughter to him. and amelia was so fond of sunny weather as a child, one dayy at airy’s house she had to stay inside because it was too rainy, so she occupied herself by drawing a little picture of the way she wished earth was; always sunny, sky always blue, grass always green, huh! the way she drew that grass as individual little triangles is all too familiar is it not…

OK I HAVE SOMEWHERE 2 GO now i’ll probablt add more later But thank u so much for asking this i love love love infodumping about anything airy related i heart airy

[sourbites]

Okay this might be a bit of a reach. But maybe a smut with Kirk. Like enemies to lovers kinda thing. Kinda catches you outside a party smoking a joint crying over some average asshole. Maybe a little argument. Sorta kinda like I hate you so much I wanna shut you up in a sensual kinda way. 🥲

Licking Wounds

sorry it took so long to get to this request! also if this piece lowkey sucks, i am sorry in advance. still kind of sick..... BUT ANYWAY! i pictured kirk somewhere around load era where he (arguably) acted the meanest because he's such a sweetheart i can't imagine him ever beefing enough with someone to be actual enemies. so he's just a bit of a dick. enjoy!

The flux of song lyrics and honey-whispered words swim in your head until it feels like you're being held underwater, Poseidon's hostage. Your ears even do that prickly thing like there's fluid trying to creep inside your eardrums. The fire and rage that fuelled you to storm outside has quickly tanked into nothingness. You're just an empty engine rattling around on fumes of what was. Fuck him.

Seriously. Fuck him. Who invites someone for a date and then acts like — like that with the nearest girl?

You find solitude in the quiet amber night, hidden and tucked into shadows outside the side alley of the bar. The brick wall is cool and unyielding against your skull, your head seeking the stability it brings. The picture of him is burned into your memory like you left your TV on pause for too long. His hip bumping hers, her nails dragging down his neck as he leans in to hear her better. You can still hear the speakers playing songs from inside— a song they're probably dancing to, no doubt.

"Party's inside," You turn your head. Kirk's leaning against the brick wall, grinning at you all smugly. Little fucker. The white scleras of his eyes are blindingly bright against the inky blackness of the night. It's a stark contrast to the lightless browns of his irises. You feel like his gaze is tunnelling holes through you. It's lukewarm out — everything simmers with heat from the September day's sweltering sun.

"Exactly why I'm outside." You sass him back. With shaky hands, you fish out a half-crumpled cigarette. It'll have to do. Patting your pockets again, you find nothing but the cherry on top of a foul night. No lighter. Perfect. Sighing, trying not to cry like a baby outside a bar, you swipe a hand over your face. Hopefully, your mascara isn't too smudged. Whatever.

Kirk throws his hands up out of his pockets in mock surrender. You can tell he's mocking you because of that stupid fucking smile on his full lips. Jerk. The streetlights stream down onto him more than you (because you're tucked snugly into the side alley), his skin glistening gold at the edges in the warm light.

Before you can suck in another breath to verbally take out your awful day on to him, he slinks over to you with this casual slyness. He tucks the end of a joint between your lips and lights it for you. "Loosen up, would'ya?"

"Fucking don't," You tell him, leaning against the wall does nothing to stop you from tilting inwards in red-hot embarrassment and shame. You should've known not to go on a date with that jerk. You always told yourself you'd never be the type of broad to weep over some limp-dicked man. God, you wish you could go back in time and handcuff yourself to your radiator before you stepped outside to meet him. Your reason should've butted in sooner— no one likes captain hindsight.

Kirk just laughs off your nasty drunkenness. He tucks his lighter back in his pocket after lighting his own joint (he got the lighter to burn on the first try— twice. Show off). The lonely flame lapped at the shadows of his face, glinted off of his labret piercing. He looks stupid with that fucking spike. Well, he looks ridiculous anyway.

Still smiling like he's some cherub, he glances at you, "Christ, you're good company. No wonder your date's chatting up some other girl."

Usually, you'd be biting his head off for even daring to speak to you like that. But this is the seventh time this has happened. Or maybe eighth? You don't understand what's wrong with him. Or is it you? This was the hundredth time he's glanced away from you. You've tried everything: mimicking the girls that strike him, icing him out, doing everything he likes, anything you can think of to salvage your relationship. But the truth is, he takes his eyes off you so damn easily. And you're done pretending to be blind.

You laugh humourlessly, exhaling smoke into the stagnant night. It lurks and lingers around you for a few moments longer than usual before it just dissipates into nothingness. The joint does little to soothe you. It only seeps into your blood, your flesh. You need this smoke to cradle your bones, to kiss away the neurons that won't stop making you think.

It seems Kirk doesn't like you silent; because he looks down to scuff the soles of his shoes on the rain-saturated asphalt, kicking around discarded cigarette butts and the glass of long-ago smashed beer bottles. "Listen, about Mi—"

"I don't want to talk about him." You grumble.

Honestly, you don't even want to talk to Kirk. You haven't got the foggiest clue as to why he's even here, bothering you like some fly in your ear. He seems more than eager to go back in and enjoy the party.

"Well, what if I do? What're you going to do, go back inside? Be my guest, you'll see him with his tongue down some other skank's throat." He's way too happy to tell you that. Fucking hell, that's a bit harsh. You swallow the ugly dirtiness you feel and push down that despair that sticks to the insides of your mouth like paper. Why is being loved so hard?

"Why are you even here?" You give him the meanest glare you can muster right now. With sticky eyelashes and a queasy stomach, it's probably more similar to a blank stare.

Kirk shrugs, looking down at his shoes. His voice is uncharacteristically soft, maybe raspy from the smoke, as he rumbles out a gently dismissive, "Don't worry about it."

"Oh, so you can get in my business, but I can't get in yours?" You raise an inquisitive brow.

"Uh, yeah, considering I'm not the one blubbering over the same asshole every time I go out. You make your business everyone else's problem, so don't get so surprised when everyone knows that he fucks other girls." Wow. You work your mouth, blinking, stupefied. You see the blurry outlines of your silhouette staring back at you in a dim puddle in the ground.

You push yourself off the wall and turn your back on Kirk. You hear him scoff in disbelief from behind you as you re-enter the bar. The atmosphere inside is thick, suffocating you straight down to hell with sweat, booze, and cheap jasmine perfume. You don't know why you're back inside. It just seemed - at the time - a better alternative than getting an earful from Kirk. Maybe you can convince the bartender to call you a taxi, considering your phone's dead.

You pull yourself up to the polished wooden bar and quickly recoil your hands once you feel how disgustingly sticky it is. You scan for the guy working behind the bar, but all you see is your idiot fucking date doing his usual tricks to get a girl to go home with him. Maybe it's the weed, maybe you're seeing in better picture, but as you watch him smoothing his warm hands down her arms, brushing his lips against the shell of her ear, you don't feel the usual agony. Okay, sure, it's a little embarrassing considering the patrons saw you with him dancing only a mere twenty minutes ago, but they're drunk, and you bet their picture of you is already beginning to fade.

Huh.

The cool outside air takes that weight clean off your shoulders. "Oh, got bored already?" Kirk calls to you once he sees your figure nearing him.

"Something like that." You take a big inhale of your joint (for luck, not courage) and step real close to him. His scent hits you like a brick wall, all boozy and that rigid tobacoo scent. You hear him murmur out a smooth whoa under his breath.

"Why are you still here? Really." You inquire. Without a hint of shyness, you sauntered into his bubble of space like you owned the place. But now you're here, you don't want to be so commanding and kill the intimacy of proximity.

Kirk lays a hand on your side. His body heat seeps through your shirt. "Would you believe me if I said I didn't like the song they're playing?"

"No song runs for, like, twelve minutes." You point out through hushed giggles. You don't feel loopy from the weed. Is Kirk genuinely amusing?

"Dogs," He hums automatically, brushing away the hair from your forehead with the back of his hand. There are a few rings decorating his fingers that bite your skin upon contact.

"...What?"

"Pink Floyd— the song Dogs," Kirk expands, wetting his lower lip with his tongue. His huge, dark eyes drop to your mouth. "That song runs for, I think... fifteen minutes?"

You can't help but genuinely laugh at him. "Fuck, you're a nerd." You sigh, still grinning. "But seriously, why did you follow me out here?"

Kirk's eyes narrow— just a smidge. "What do you want to hear me say? I saw you run out like a fuckin' kid, and I felt it was my duty to comfort you. Don't be such a goddamn princess, alright? Just drop it."

You don't wriggle out from his touch. Nothing seems that serious anymore. You hum thoughtfully, brushing the pad of your thumb against his chin. You wonder if that piercing hurt. If it was planned. If he cried. "You're a dick." You say it so casually - so easily - that it doesn't even hit like an insult.

You're both just standing there, orbiting each other. It's cooler than anticipated outside; the lightbulbs in the streetlamps are long overdue for a change. They buzz overhead. The scenery lacks the colour of daylight or artificial light like the ones inside the bar. Maybe this near-monochromatic world brings more clarity than the exciting hubbub of passionate reds and the flair of a coddling yellow.

"You don't actually like him, do you?" Kirk's voice is ghostly quiet; you barely hear it. You wish it would haunt you. Through the virile streams of muggy grey smoke, you watch Kirk's facial expression. Mostly, you just watch the smoke in front of you, trying to see words or images within the steady flow of dead, grey air.

Albeit petulantly, you shrug your shoulders. "I dunno. Not recently." Your voice is awkward, mumbling around the edges of the joint Kirk gave you.

It's so difficult to get the cage of your mouth open sometimes. You don't want to talk about how bad you feel, how lonely, how upset you get at night. Your tongue sits in your jaw like a rock, like a dying star weighing you down on the gritty floor. Is it a crime to simply want to be adored?

"I watched you," Kirk clears his throat, avoiding your sad eyes. "On the dance floor. You looked good. Happy. You didn't like him then?"

You shake your head, flicking the smouldering end of the joint into a stagnant puddle of rainwater. "I liked dancing. I like being with someone, just not him anymore. I..." You roll the words around in your mouth. You haven't even been brave enough to write this in your diary, and here you are, about to confide in Kirk— the asshole of the century.

"To be honest with you, Kirk, I'm not really surprised anymore. I know he doesn't actually like me. I just... it beats being alone."

"So you'd hang out with any fucker so long as it's company?" He raises his brows at you. One hand is in his pocket.

Without waiting for you to respond, Kirk scoops your hips into his hands and steers you against the chilly brick wall. You should resist. You honestly should. But you're drunk (tipsy, you'd insist to anyone who dared to point out your warm face and slanted gait) and high and hollow and so loudly lonely. He gives you his shoulder to lay your head on; your hands slide under his leather jacket, enveloping them in heat. Not radiator heat or hot bath heat— human heat. The real deal.

His mouth tastes like warm tequila. Toasty, smooth tequila that sinks down your throat almost. Such a peaceful mouth, free of the brambled insults it hurls at you. You're led closer to him, tethered to this rope that is his full pink lips. Kirk's fingertips sink into your ass; it sets your wayward heart roiling with newfound contempt for him, and yet you sigh into his kiss, wanting to consume his every earthy-tequila breath and bandage it around your shuddering skin.

Your whole body rattles with tiny electric pulses that rise like steam to fog up your brain that's too thick to see through. Everything is Kirk. You barely register that a song is flowing out of the bar and into your swirling head. I Wanna Be Adored, but it's being covered by some cool, angsty chick.

Both your faces pull away from the kiss. The spell's not broken, though. The moment, the heat, it all lingers... neither of you want to give it up for a memory just yet. Your mouth tingles with the phantom heat of Kirk's lips against you. With jellified muscles, the back of your skull slowly sinks into the brick wall as best as it can. Kirk's mouth is on you again, on your pulse, trailing quick, flighty kisses around the collar of your shirt.

"You done whining about your boyfriend now?" Kirk mutters, in between pressing his teeth into your shoulder, capturing your skin and tugging down your shirt until the fabric warps. Greedy. Saying anything smart will ruin the magic, so you just dig your nails into the nape of his neck, relishing in the way he pours a groan onto you.

Goosebump-inducingly hot hands slide up your side, planting you in place. You wonder if Kirk can read your thoughts— if he's purposefully coaxing you away from nurturing any rational thought that would butt in with a: 'Whoa there, girlfriend!'

The spiked jewellery of his labret piercing digs into your skin. You hiss. The little fucker laughs at you. How Kirk makes you feel - like you're in some artsy film, where everyone else fizzes into the background, and all your lines are witty - it doesn't mesh well with his blunt personality. You feel like you shouldn't ever pull yourself away from him. He slyly bumps his hips into yours; his hand travels south to your thigh, coaxing it up to hook around his waist.

"I wanna be adooored..."

The singer's distant voice haunts you through layers of brick and mortar. Kirk's tongue laps over a teeth-shaped ring on your neck. You keen into him, your flesh is irritated by him, and yet the only medicine for you is him. He's pressing against you like you press your hands into your eyes to stop yourself from crying. Your palms burn, his mouth feels like the start of forever and simultaneously feels like the final nail in your coffin. Would he listen if you whispered your sorrows to him?

In the corner of your eye, before everything that isn't your spotlight on Kirk fades away, the cheap neon sign lights bleed into the puddles on the pavement.

"You want to make him jealous?" Kirk noses into your ear, skirting his fingertips around your hips restlessly. You know what he's alluding to. Does it always have to be about him? Why can't this just be for you?

Cementing yourself to the moment, you rest your arms on Kirk's shoulders and lock them together, letting his worn-smooth leather jacket meld into your skin. "No. I just want to feel good."

Satisfied, Kirk purrs, "I can do that," into the shell of your ear— before kissing the cartilage and grabbing an eager fistful of your ass.

He looks up at you from his resting place on your shoulder. Enormous brown eyes framed by thick, long eyelashes. Desire rolls around in your belly. You feel tethered to him. Fucking him would be like fucking a concept, a piece of art— though you do want him. Terribly so.

Kirk's stronger than he looks when he gets your legs fully around him, your panties to the side. His hard, aching cock is propped up on the waistband of his jeans that he's had to inch down his hips. The unattractive buzz of neon lights and old streetlamps still lingers around, like a wasteland where made-of-flesh cicadas have been replaced by synthetically monotonous, perverse humming. He uses two of his fingers to coax you open, slicked up with his spit and your own wetness. The heel of his palm pushes into your throbbing clit. You shudder around him.

Once your common sense washes over you, and the smell of Kirk no longer blinds you, you're sure to feel shame that you've taken the world's most annoying man's dick right outside a bar. But right now, all you know is Kirk's thick fingers curling within you so deep, your knees locked around him, and his mouth sucking bruises into your ribs.

The song hits the instrumental bridge. It just rattles in your head. Then Kirk fills out the rest. Between the beats, there's him.

You use all the breath in your chest to power out a muffled moan into his collarbone. Kirk replaced his fingers with his cock— and fuck, is it an upgrade. You didn't realise your eyes were closed in cock-drunkenness until you felt your lashes against your warm cheeks. Kirk presses into you; all the way to the base of his cock, where his happy trail is dirtied by your overeager cunt, smearing the arousal that leaks out of you onto him.

Kirk was never on your lists of goals or dreams or lovers, and here he is, giving you the best fuck of your life. He's got a palm on the wall, cushioning your head, the other securing you around him with his hand cupping your thigh. You know next time you're in the shower, you'll find his fingertipped bruises on the backs of your thighs with your own fingers, and you know all the sweltering heat from tonight will come shooting back to you. All it will take is a touch, a memory. In the words of Virgil: smooth the descent, and easy is the way.

It's a lot of bumping, it's a lot of filthy mouths saying filthy things. Your skin is burning— you cling to him desperately, shoving your nose into his neck until you can almost smell the iron in his blood. His golden skin makes your mouth water— just a hard-edged jawline and glittering jewellery that commands attention like the sun at noon. Other men (like the one in the bar, oblivious to the fantastic night you've having) before Kirk have bumbled and fumbled around your body and searched within you blindfolded, wholly missing the mark when it comes to pleasing you. But Kirk? He's a fucking mind reader. If you think deeper, he's lewdly swinging his hips until they piston into your cervix with so much zeal that you think you're going to faint and tear his skin open with how evilly you're clawing at his arms. If you think slower, you can hear the pornographic squelches of your sopping wet cunt; can feel every single atom of his wonderfully skilled cock reaming you open.

The song's outro swirls in your head. Like a siren's spell, working hand-in-hand with Kirk to keep you hypnotised.

"You adore me... (I wanna).... You adore me.... (I wanna....)"

You don't care. You don't care about anything. When he's inside you, it feels so good it hurts. It chases away any cold-lipped loneliness. It's all just Kirk, Kirk, Kirk. He crushes his mouth onto yours. His spiked labret jewellery rests against your skin, vaguely threatening. No matter those Bambi eyes, he'll never be soft. Never be yours. He's practically lunging his hungry cock within you. There's no doubt in your mind that your tailbone is going to be sore tomorrow— you can already feel the pattern of bruises lined up your skin where Kirk grasped and clutched at you and dug in his blunt nails.

Even though you still feel hollowed out, you feel your organs rattling within you, your eyes unfocused yet still trained on him, stupefied by how impressive his performance is. You arch against him, crying out against his palm. He shushes you, grinning. He's grinding his hips into yours as if he's trying to fucking pave his way within you for his return, so he knows his way around.

"Fuckin' gorgeous," Kirk hisses, groping more bruises into your thigh, sucking at the base of your neck. "Gorgeous girl. Gorgeous pussy." He exhales, his breath fanning across the circles of his spit on your neck.

You take a hand and curl your fingers into his palm, the one plastered on your mouth to silence you. You're not sure why you do it. Maybe you just want to hold a part of him.

"S' funny," Kirk laughs, all velvety-smooth in a way that has your insides fluttering around him. "That fuckin' idiot in there... missing out on you," He groans.

"It's me who makes you moan like this - gets you so wet - me who gets to ruin your pussy for anyone else. You're mine, baby—"

"Kirk," You warn noisily into his hand. Then a moan quickly stumbles out around his palm. He grins smugly against your neck.

You grab onto him for dear life. He's a sight: deliriously hot and cocky as he splits you in two against a brick wall (that's probably scraping up his hand that's acting as your cushion). His ploughing slows into a sloppy glide, subjecting your ears to the embarrassing squelch of your bodies joining together. The stars in your eyes are lit. Kirk needed to see it, even if he's never been one for stargazing. The back of your neck is boiling hot; your hair is sticking to your forehead— most of your skin is dampened by sweat or slick. He's panting into your skin, hips finally stuttering against your pelvis. Brittle cries live and die in the back of your throat. His cock swells and fills you to the brim as you soak him to the bone. Your eyes roll so far back in your head that you almost catch a glimpse of your brain. Frenzied, your cunt pulses around him, your abdomen pulled taut.

You almost slide down the entire length of the wall once Kirk gingerly untangles your limbs. Your muscles ache, jellified, so dazed with that love potion he had you gulping down. You gasp big mouthfuls of air. You can taste the salt of sweaty skin and the muggy city on your tongue. The insides of your thighs are uncomfortably sticky.

Kirk cups your cheeks in his hands and kisses your brow. You've tasted the good and the bad in him— and you want them both.

"You're done griping now, I hope." He murmurs into your temple. What a fucking jerk.

[ohodie]

KILLER

spiderman!luke castellan x reader

part 1 || part 2

★ "i am sick of the chase but i'm hungry for blood, and theres nothing i can do"

ABOUT - luke castellan is new york's very own 'friendly neighbourhood spider-man'- because of course he fuckin' is. to make matters even better, you're the only one at school who knows. lucky you.

WARNINGS - australian slang yet again (sorry guys, i cant help it. its in my blood!), swearing, first person?? idk i thought it'd be cool. sorry if it sucks. lol. mentions of adderall (she has ADHD) and vaping. reader is a rich girl and the leader of the sassy girl apocolypse.

"are you okay, ma'am?"

"dont call me ma'am, luke."

"okay, what the fuck."

that's how i found out the nerd in my AP chemistry class was spider-boy. i mean, obviously i had caught on to his whole 'superhero thing' like, a week after the news articles started flooding in. it was so obvious.

luke is probably one of the only guys in the world dumb enough to put on a latex suit in order to help old ladies cross the street. sure, he's a good samaritan- and sure, he's saving small businesses from being mugged into bankruptcy and shit; but who cares?

every night, i see him swinging from building to building like a fucking weirdo. it gets old after the first 100 foot drop down from the hilton hotels building. like, we get it. you're spider-man. good for you.

sadly, my cynicism was brought to a halt as soon as he saved me from being brutally robbed on my way home. of course i got mugged on the one day i decided not to wear my doc martens. just my luck.

i used to cut through this sketchy alleyway to get to my bus stop because it took way too long walking around the block- that was my first mistake. DO NOT GO INTO SKETCHY ALLEYWAYS IN NEW YORK. NOTHING GOOD HAPPENS IN AN ALLEYWAY.

my second mistake was deciding against popping my second addy during 5th period, because if i had, then maybe i'd be alert enough to clock what was happening before this druggie had his glock pointed at my head. well, at least it wasn't his dick. praise the lord!

the druggie snuck behind me, before literally grabbing me by the neck and pushing me up against the wall of the dingy alleyway. then, he pulled out a WHOLE ASS GUN from his pocket and held it to my head, using the sleeve of his sweater to cover its form.

my breath hitched as the water bottle inside my backpack pressed against my spine. that was my third mistake. frank green water bottles hurt when they're pushing into your bones.

"you're gonna give me all the money you've got on you, kay?" he asked in a low, raspy voice. he definitely smoked 5 packs a day.

nevertheless, i nodded and reached into the side pocket of my backpack. i pulled out my cute little mimco purse and started taking out all the cash in it. it hurt my soul to get rid of it- that money was supposed to go towards my new vape. bummer.

my hands were shaking as they held the messy assortment of bills, waiting for him to take it from me and just leave me alone.

"good. thanks- dont be tellin' anyone about this, or else i'll find you,' he threatened, slowly pulling the gun away from my head.

"i wont, i swear!"

"you're taller than him, ma'am. why dont you just kick him to the curb?"

i furrowed my brows, my eyes scanning the alleyway for the origins of the voice. the origins of luke's voice.

his nasally tone was so distinct, i could recognise it with my head underwater.

"the fuck?" called out the short, ugly smoker with my money. he whipped his head around furiously, suddenly a lot more alarmed than when he was robbing me. suddenly, the nerdy loser in latex swung down and pushed him onto the cold ground.

spider-boy grabbed his wrists and held them behind his back, before webbing them together in some homemade handcuffs.

"are you fuckin' kidding me?" the guy grumbled, his voice muffled by the gravel pushing against his mouth as spider-dork held his head to the ground.

"nope, not kidding you," he sighed, using his webs to secure the man into his position on the ground. he dug into the mans pockets and pulled out my money.

yep, that was luke castellan all right.

spider-nerd leapt off the constrained druggie and walked over to me, handing me back my assortment of bills. "are you okay, ma'am?" he asked, looking downwards a bit to meet my gaze.

thats exactly how luke looks at me. he's gotta be luke- he HAS to be.

i had been watching luke for weeks. i had been analysing his every movement, every strange look and awkward gesture. i was 99.9% sure that spider-man was luke castellan.

but there was only one way to find out.

"dont call me ma'am, luke."

luke choked on air, taking a step forwards as he clumsily held onto the wall in shock. "okay, what the fuck?"

i laughed dryly, my eyes narrowed as i stared at him. the whole ‘spider-man’ thing really did suit him.

"you know?" he stuttered out. i nodded, before pointing over at the guy still squirming under his webs. "maybe you should get rid of him," i said calmly, crossing my arms over my chest after stuffing my money into the pocket of my jeans.

"oh. yeah, right."

before i knew it, luke had quite literally kicked the guy in the head to knock him out.

"are you allowed to do that?" i asked, my eyes wide in shock.

"nah, not really," luke shrugged, before looking down at his watch and pressing a few buttons.

"i thought you were supposed to be a friendly neighbourhood spider-boy," i retorted. luke scoffed, looking back up at me with what i could only assume to be a sly grin from under his mask. "its spider-man,” he corrected.

“and criminals who mess with pretty girls deserve to be curb stomped."

okay. yeah. he had a fair point. i am rather pretty.

then, out of nowhere, luke grabbed me by the waist and aimed his wrist towards the sky. before i knew it, he was swinging us towards the sky like a fucking lunatic.

“luke! what the fuck?!” i screamed, wrapping my arms around his neck and clinging to his body for dear life.

“what’s your addy?” he asked, his toned arm keeping me in place as it pressed against the small of my back.

‘what’s your addy?’ seriously? what a fuckin’ loser. i would’ve made fun of him for using snapchat lingo if it weren’t for how strong his arms were. jesus christ, they were so big and toned… no wonder he skips gym class every lesson; he doesn’t want to show off. what a humble king.

“uhh- greenhead avenue!” i cried out, digging my head into the nook of his neck. gods, he smelt good.

luke nodded, holding me tighter as he swung us through the air. “rodger that.”

“thanks for like… saving me, or whatever,”

i stood inside my bedroom, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as i clung onto the window frame. luke took off his mask as he stood on the balcony, leaning against the railing. he shot me a meek smile, tilting his head to the side as a way to play down his cocky demeanour.

he’s never gonna let me live this down.

“don’t worry about it.”

he paused, letting his smile drop. “just- promise you won’t tell anyone?” luke asked, his voice low as he leaned forward.

of course i wasn’t going to tell anyone- i’m not a total cunt. i have morals… sometimes.

“i promise, luke.”

he smiled, pulling his mask back over his head before taking a step back. “great. see you on monday,” he called out, jumping off the railing and swinging away from my apartment building.

as soon as he left, i face planted against my bed.

luke castellan was spider-man. i fucking knew it.

that was fine. i knew that.

but what really got me was how hot it was when he held me by the waist, how good he smelt, how raspy his voice was- WHAT THE FUCK.

no. what the fuck. are you kidding me. god no. no no no no no no no. i’m going to jump off the balcony. this is it.

of course. just my luck.

that day i confirmed my suspicions of luke being spider-man.

i also realised why i cared about it much.

fuck my life.

[toxic3mmy]

prompt: alex is your new and annoying stepbrother

a little short but more is cumming! i mean, coming (;

Part Two

“you’ve got to be joking” you muttered underneath your breath

“son, please show y/n to her new room. the two of you are going to have a lot of time to get to know each other” your soon to be stepdad said as he walked hand in hand with your mom to their bedroom downstairs

alexis lead you up the stairs and into a vacant room. this bedroom was huge. it already had furniture and was so elegant. you had the perfect ideas for decorating it.

no more ratty little apartments with only one bedroom for you and your mom to share. after 19 years, you finally had your own personal space.

“this is it, i guess” alex rolled his eyes

“i even have my own restroom? wow…” you thought aloud to which alex scoffed at

“no, you idiot, don’t you see two doors here? i have to share a restroom with you” he replied in an annoyed tone

you didn’t say anything and simply began to unpack your things quietly.

“did you need something?” you asked politely

“nope, just have to make sure you’re feeling welcome stepsis” he smirked

you quietly get up from your suitcase. you smiled sarcastically and slammed your door shut in alex’s face, hitting his nose in the process due to the way he was peering into your room.

you smiled to yourself as alex held his bloody nose, groaning and cursing in pain. you sat back down and continued to unpack your things.

~

“sweetheart, your stepfather and i are having dinner at a little restaurant nearby. would you like to join us?”

“is alex going?”

“yes i believe he’s getting ready as we speak”

“i think im okay. i still have more unpacking to do and a bit of rearranging. plus, i want to try out that bathtub, did you see it? it has all these little temperature settings and lights, it’s so cool mom. you guys go have fun. i love you”

“i love you too, mija. call me if you need anything, okay?”

“okay, see ya”

“bye sweetheart” she smiled before heading out with her new hubby

you gathered some clothes and found a few candles in the bathroom. you began to run the water as you came up with a way to relax.

you quickly grabbed what you needed and then undressed yourself. you added bubbles and all kinds of good smelling things to the water before finally immersing yourself into the bathtub.

the water was the perfect temperature. you sighed in content and played some soft music on your phone. you gently washed your hair with some shampoo and rinsed out as much as you could. you reached over and grabbed your little purple friend.

you turned on your toy and moved it across your chest and down your breasts. you circled it around your nipples and moaned softly, closing your eyes. you felt heat rushing through your body and down to your core. you slowly moved the toy underwater and onto your clit.

“oh fuck” you hissed at the contact and used your other hand to pinch your breasts. you circled your swollen clit and tilted your head back as soft whimpers left your lips.

alex heard your music and decided to scare you a bit. he knew you were in the restroom, probably doing your makeup or something. he opened the door quietly and closed it behind him. as he rounded the crystal wall and crept closer to where you were, he stopped in his tracks at the sight. your skin was covered in foamy bubbles, your eyes were shut and mouth opened slightly as you were in immense pleasure, and your body was on full display. it was all too much. he stood there with his mouth wide open for a second, not believing what he was seeing. he realized how wrong it was for him to be there at that very moment. he quickly turned around to leave but his own feet got in the way. he tripped over himself and made a slight thud sound.

your eyes snapped to where alex stood, trying to regain his balance. you turned off your vibrator and covered your naked chest.

“what the fuck are you doing?!”

“i um…i, i was—” he stuttered

you grabbed the nearest thing to you, which was a bottle of some soap, and launched it at him

“get out!”

“s-sorry” alex quickly left and shut the door

what in the actual fuck?

didnt he go to dinner with your parents?

why was he even there in the bathroom?

did he see what you were doing?

you didnt know. but you did know that this definitely turned you on.

you stood up to lock both doors as you should’ve done in the first place. you got back into the bath and finished washing off to get dressed and confront that sneaky fucker.

meanwhile, alex was across the house and locked away in a bathroom trying to gather his thoughts. why did he have to go and do something so stupid? and why the hell did he like what he saw?

he hated you. and you were stepsiblings for god’s sake!

still, he had an aching hard on and a pounding headache

[the-s1lly-corner]

Flufftober prompt 3: Sick (Adam)

you can find the list here ! not much to say in the notes because im writing all of these MOOOOOONTHS in advance! plot: Adam is sick and you take it upon yourself to look after him for the day, he verbally lashes out and seems to feel bad notes: reader is gn, established relationship, adam is the sick one in this fic, very ooc but hush hush word count: 960 cws: sickness :(

Adam had fallen ill. How, you weren’t entirely sure. You didn’t even know that angels could get sick- at least the ones that come from human souls. Being the caring partner you are, you have taken it upon yourself to keep an eye on him and tend to his every need until he was fully recovered. Not that it was particularly hard, he was more than willing to lay down in bed as soon as his symptoms started.

His attitude, on the other hand… 

Your hand gripped the ladle as you poured soup into a bowl as Adam’s wet and rough voice called out for you. You grit your teeth and steel yourself for the upcoming interaction. 

Despite his eagerness to take a few days off, he was a pain when he was ill. Understandable, but he was prone to lashing out at others. You grab a sleeve of crackers and walk down the hall to the bedroom. 

His attitude wasn’t terrible, at least not compared to how he acts with others- excluding yourself- but he’d find himself snapping at you more than he.. Probably… intended.. 

He looked terrible. His skin was pale and dark circles rested under his eyes. Each movement seemed to take effort, each slow and sluggish- almost as if he were underwater. His arms fell effortlessly across his chest as he pulled his hands over his face to rub the exhaustion from his eyes. It was all a useless attempt to adjust them to the light of the hall behind you. 

You close the door behind you and shuffle towards the side of the bed. 

“I’ve got you some soup,” You mumbled as you pulled the chair closer, balancing the plate in your hand. You feel around between the nightstand and the bed, tugging out a tray to hold the soup. 

“Here,” 

“I can fucking see that.” Adam hissed lowly as he tried to push himself up. You ignore his tone, instead busying yourself with setting the tray. 

You place down the bowl and crackers, the spoon clinking against the glass- you make a note of how Adam recoils away from the sound. You make a mental note to find some ibuprofen for him soon.

“How are you feeling? You don’t look as bad as yesterday,”

You put a hand behind his back and help prop him up, stuffing pillows between him and the bed’s headboard. He took a long breath, it sounded… 

You frown as you tune out the sound, and take a spoonful of soup. You let it drip over the bowl, before resting your hand under it to prevent any from spilling onto Adam. “Take a guess.” He nearly growled, swallowing hard before he opened his mouth for you. Your brows furrowed at him, and he seemed to soften as he let the warm fluid slip down his throat. His eyes darted away from you as you moved to get another spoonful. “I feel like shit,” He added after a moment. 

“I'm planning on going to the store later to pick some things up, is there anything in particular you need?” You push on. 

His knuckle lightly drums against the support of the tray, glazed eyes looking at the spoon as you bring it closer to him. He takes it once more, and licks his chapped lips before speaking.

“Painkillers would be nice,”

“I’ve already got that in mind,” You offer a smile. He stares at you for a minute before snatching the spoon from your hand. “I can feed myself, I’m not some snot nosed brat.” 

You bite your tongue for a moment, taking note of the used up box of tissues on the nightstand. You’ll pick up another box while you’re away.

“You seem to be getting better,” You lean back in the chair and watch him feed himself. Weakened glare be damned, this was better than most of the things he could do on his own the past few days. Drumming your fingers on your knees, you scan the room. Used tissues were tossed into a nearby waste bin, and the emergency bucket he had been given remained empty. At least four empty water bottles were strewn across the bed. 

Your hands flatten on your thighs, and you push yourself up to your feet. “You can leave the bowl on the nightstand, I’ll let you finish eating…” You pause, “It’s okay if you can’t eat it all, I’ll deal with it when I come back,” You turn towards the door.

“Where are you going?” He asked through a mouthful of carrot. 

“I need to clean up the kitchen and put away the rest of the soup, then I’ll run out to the store… Painkillers was all you needed right? Doesn’t matter what kind?” You stop at the doorway. 

His eyes flick to the soup, then to you, then they lowered to his lap. 

“Yeah,” He worked his jaw, spoon held loosely in his hand. 

You give him a thumbs up and step into the hall. “Noted, boss man!” You hear him click his teeth at you. “Just give me a call if you need anything” and with that you closed the door behind you, leaving Adam alone in bed with his thoughts. 

Unbeknownst to you, he’d turn the short interaction in his head until his body forced him to sink back into sleep. He didn’t mean to be so short with you. His fingers twitched as his mind bounced between each word he said to you. They were nowhere near as bad as some of the things he’s said to others. Tame, even. Yet you still smiled at him despite his growls. 

His hand pulls itself back to his face and drags across the skin. He really hated being sick.

[sunshineneedsaplacetokeephernsfw]

Day 11 | Threesome - Alfons & Liam

Kinktober masterlist

Gender-neutral reader (genitals not specified)

Word count: 2.3k

18+, slight dubcon? (reader implied to be slightly tipsy), skinny dipping, Alfons being a perv, in water, slight Liam x Alfons, anal fingering, double penetration, hand jobs, minimal editing

A/n: If it turns out Liam actually hates swimming, forgive me. Also sorry this is a bit late, I didn't want to rush it

“What should we do next?” Liam skipped down the street.

“Nothing too dangerous. I don't want to lose you both in one night and have to tell Victor.” You looked between both Liam and Alfons.

“We've done this many times before and came back to tell the tale, haven't we?” Alfons said.

Honestly, their “tales” didn’t put you at ease. Although you told yourself you’d come to make sure they were alright, you genuinely did want to hang out with them and have fun.

The night streets of London always felt much more fun with them around. It always felt so much safer with them. To your left was a body of water.

You stared out into the dark, rippling water. The light from the lamps reflected a gold orange off of it. With all of the excitement that night, you let the tension fade and relax as you stared.

“Do you want to go swimming?”

Liam’s voice in your ear made you jump. You didn’t see him get that close. You pressed your lips into a line as you thought and glanced back at the lake. It might be a little bit cool, but the night was warm. And the shimmering water looked so inviting. And you never swam with them before. It would be fun.

“But we don't have any bathing suits.” 

“We don't have to be wearing any,” Alfons appeared on the other side of you. Too close.

You rolled your eyes.

Liam smiled. “Oh, that’s a good idea, Al.”

“Thank you, my dear kitty. Now, shall we?” Alfons said.

Your face flushed. The drink you had earlier probably didn’t help.

“Now hold on…” you started.

Liam’s eyes flickered to you. “Is everything alright?” His smile faded for a brief second then returned just as quick. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. We can go do whatever you want.”

“Hmm,” Alfons hummed. “If you’re nervous about seeing us nude, I can make you see bathing suits to protect your pure, innocent mind. Or any type of dream you desire,” his voice turned low with the last sentence.

“No. Even if I can’t see it, you’ll be able to see me,” you said.

You looked back at the lake in thought. It did sound nice. To just try something new and give in to let yourself do whatever you wanted. And it would be dark anyway. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you found yourself nodding.

“You know what? Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

Liam’s face lit up.

Alfons smiled. “Splendid.”

“But,” you interjected. “We’ll all be staying below the water, and I’m going to get in where you can’t see me.”

You already started making your way down to the water and to the left. Heading to a large shadow behind a tree. If there was anywhere they wouldn’t be able to see you, it was there.

“Be careful,” Liam called after you. You waved.

Your feet padded in the grass in the dark. Once out of sight, you tugged your clothes off. The warm fabric pulled off of your body, making you shiver a bit. Your heart pounded in your chest and you couldn’t keep the smile off of your face. The blanket of darkness helped your nerves. Knowing you were nude in public, but no one could see it.

You pulled on your underwear, considering leaving it on. But you didn’t want to have any wet clothes after. And you would be underwater.  Your face felt warm against the air. It would probably be fine, and you took it off.

You carefully tucked your clothes into a low branch on the tree and started climbing into the water. Your toes sunk into the mud. You took one careful step at a time, feeling how the water enveloped your body.

You shivered once the water reached your chest. A deep breath filled your lungs before you swam to Alfons and Liam.

Liam smiled at the sight of you and waved. He was deeper in the water, already swimming around while Alfons seemed to be relaxing in the more shallow section. You swam a bit closer. 

Even in the dark, you could see the dim light on their bare shoulders, making their muscles look a bit more defined than usual. Your skin felt warmer, even in the water. You tried to keep a straight face. All you had to do was not remember that they were completely naked beneath the water.

With a strong blush on your face, you swam and splashed in the water. Letting yourself do whatever you wanted.

“Finally letting yourself have fun?” Alfons asked.

On another occasion, you might have had a retort. But you just smiled and said, “Yes.”

And tried not to let your eyes drift.

“I’m happy to hear it.” Liam swam over to you. “Say, let’s have a race. You want to join in, Al?”

“I’m quite fine. Physical exertion isn’t quite for me.”

Liam’s eyes shifted to you.

“Sure!”

“First one to that rock on the shore-”

“Liam, I’d have to get out of the water.”

“Oops. Sorry. First one to… that spot,” he pointed to a vague spot in the water, “wins.”

You supposed it didn’t matter if there wasn’t a concrete way of telling who won. It was just fun.

“Okay. Three, two, one, go!”

You swam with him. Trying not to laugh and swallow up the water as you went. Water splashed into your face as he paddled faster than you, pulling ahead. In a moment of desperation, you swept your hand across the water and splashed a wave onto him.

He sputtered for a second which made you freeze in concern until he turned to you. His wet hair dripped over his eyes.

“Not fair.” He splashed back at you, but noticeably not as much.

You turned and covered your face.

A splash fight broke out. Slapping the water, trying to get the other back. You couldn’t stop laughing. If your hair wasn’t wet before, it was now.

“Okay, okay,” Liam relented. He blew a droplet of water off his nose.

“You okay?” You got closer. Your toes managed to touch the water here as you tried to walk to him.

“Yep. I’m ju- sneak attack!”

You yelped as he lunged and wrapped his arms around you. A large wave came from it as you nearly bobbed below the water. But just before your head could go under, he pulled you up into his chest. Relief raced through you and you giggled with your hand on his chest. Your heart was pounding. Next thing you knew, he was spinning you around. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.

You caught your breath as his arms stayed wrapped around you. The heat returned to you when you realized how close you were. Your skin was on his. You couldn’t pull your hand away.

“You two seem to be having a blast. Can I join in?”

Without asking, Alfons slid in behind you. You jumped a bit. How were they so good at sneaking up on you?

Alfons’s hand rested on your bare shoulder. Your breath caught in your throat. It was so simple, but had your skin warming up further. His fingertips lightly dragged across you.

Your fingers curled, reminding you of Liam right in front of you. How you were sandwiched between them. How they didn’t have any clothes on. They were naked on either side of you.You were naked. 

A fire lit in your nerves.

Alfons’s breath brushed across your ear. “I have an idea for something more fun, and pleasurable.” His hands slid down your arms. You leaned into him. “What do you think, Liam? Shall we let our new playmate join in on the fun?”

Liam nodded and looked at you. “I want to if you want to. What do you think?” Liam leaned in closer to you. His face was so close.

You nodded.

A brief look of surprise flashed across their faces.

“I want to,” you said loud and clear.

Liam smiled and hugged you close. He buried his face in the crook of your neck. A grin spread across Alfons’s face.

“Wonderful.”

His arms wrapped low around your waist and pulled you back into him. Your feet landed on a slightly more shallow spot where it was easier to keep your head out of the water. His hand dipped low and spread across your sensitive skin.

Liam’s hand wandered down too. Tracing against your hip then thigh. He moved his fingers to your sex only to bump into Alfons’s hand.

“I’ll take care of it here,” Alfons’s said. “You can focus on making our plaything feel good elsewhere.”

Alfons’s practiced hand dragged and teased where it felt good. Rubbing you over and over again. A moan fell from your lips.

“I can make you feel good too,” Liam said.

His hands smoothed over your chest. His fingertips landed on your nipples and circled around them. You jolted and felt the heat between your legs grow.

“Does it feel good?” Liam’s lips were so close to yours.

You nodded.

You didn’t know who leaned in first, but you were kissing him. Your hot lips meshed together. His tongue tangled with your while your thighs clenched. Your hands coiled in his hair and held him close. His fingers still rolled and toyed with your nipples.

Alfons’s lips brushed against your cheek.

“I want a kiss too.”

Your mouth was pulled away from Liam’s and instantly replaced with Alfons’s. He invaded your taste, drawing small moans from you. Your eyes were barely lidded. Your muscles were weak and leaned against them from support.

Liam leaned in again. You could hardly tell who you were kissing anymore. A hot mess of lips until the cool air hit yours again. Your eyes fluttered open to see them kissing each other. Alfon’s thumb pressed harder against you and you let out a whimper.

They parted.

“Did seeing us kiss turn you on?” Alfons teased with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“We can do it again,” Liam offered.

You stuttered. Your brain was far too clouded.

Alfons chuckled. His fingers moved down to your asshole. Teasing and slowly pushing inside.

“What are you doing?” You asked as you felt yourself clench around his finger.

“We have to prepare you. We both want you.” 

Your eyes widened when you realized what that meant.

Liam played with the neglected part of you while Alfons thrusted deeper and scissored in you. You squirmed in their grasp. Getting so worked up it hurt.

Alfons pulled out and you felt something hot prod in its place.

“Are you ready?” Alfons whispered in your ear.

Liam did the same and pressed himself against you.

“They’re not gonna fit,” you whined. You felt yourself twitch.

“Sure they can, we just have to go slow.” Alfons’s hand caressed you soothingly. “Do you want to go first, Liam?”

“Sure!”

Liam’s length slowly pushed into your hole. You bit your lip, as he entered you more and more. Pressing against your walls. His hips jerked and he started thrusting. The water sloshed around you both with each movement

Just as you were getting used to it, you felt Alfons push in. Your mouth opened wide as you felt the stretch, Curses on the tip of your tongue. Your body bounced with each thrust as they grew deeper. The sting fading away and only making you feel hot.

You clenched around both of them. Barely even aware of the sinful sounds coming from your mouth.

Their hands lifted you up and your legs hooked around Liam’s waist. The different paces making your brain melt. Alfons going slow and long while Liam’s were shallow and fast. Each one making your body tense up more and more.

“Are you close, dear?”

Liam panted. “Go ahead. Cum.”

Like your body was listening, your orgasm suddenly crashed on you. Your nerves drowned and twitched in hot pleasure that shot and flooded through you. Spasming around them, only making them press where it felt good more. You cried out and buried your face into Liam while Alfons smoothed your skin.

Your chest heaved as you came down. Sweat sticking to the skin that the water didn’t lap at.

“Did it feel good?” Liam whispered.

You nodded. “Yeah. Really good. Really really good.”

“Good.” Liam hugged you.

“Ah, but Liam. You haven’t reached your peak, have you?”

You slowly lifted your head and realized Alfons was right.

Before Liam could protest and say he didn’t need it, Alfons weaved his hand around you to reach Liam. Liam gasped and his face flushed.

“I can’t let my other playmate not reach the peak of pleasure,” Alfons said. The water rippled as he moved his hand.

Your eyes slowly turned to Alfons as the haze cleared from your head.

“You haven’t cum yet either,” you said.

Without a second thought, your hand reached down and wrapped around him. He jumped and his muscles twitched. You slowly moved your fist up and down.

“Hey,” Liam managed to say through his whimpers, “I wanna help too.” And he reached over.

You all helped each other get off. Touching and jerking until they both finally squirted their load and leaned against you.

You all rested on each other. Their hair tickled your skin. Your wrist hung limply as it rested. You didn’t know how long you stayed there.

“Are we ready to get back to the castle?” you asked.

Liam nodded.

Alfons stood up straighter and the corners of his mouth curved up. “Shall we all sleep together once we’re back.”

Liam said “Oh, that’s probably a good idea,” while you laughed.

[piss-pumpkin]

🏖️ A beach episode 🌊

Older!Dipper pines x reader, Douce amere chapter 23 ~4.0k words Masterlist Prev

The state of your head meant you couldn’t swim much. Getting water on it, especially dirty water, like that of the Gravity Falls lake was a bad idea. Having the cut contaminated or infected was a big no-no. Even with it healing well, there was still a somewhat open wound under your bandaid, and the cover was far from water proof. That being said, you also weren’t a bitch. 

You just couldn’t let the water touch your head. Seemed easy enough. 

Your flip flop broke on the way to the shore, so Dipper gave you a piggy back ride, and you kicked your other sandal at Mabel, who walked ahead of you. She didn’t dodge, and it hit her in the back. The Grunkles were grabbing things from the trunk: floaties, a chair for Stan, some weird invention of Fords that would do… something to the water. 

Dipper let you down on the dock, where you wouldn’t get sand stuck on your feet. 

The dock was worn down from years of splashing and walking, and you’d been told it was the place where Mabel got her first kiss. And with a merman Dipper was not fond of. That was a fun bit of mythology. 

The lake wasn’t exactly crowded, but it was on the busy side. You couldn’t be too surprised considering the good weather. On the beach, the cops, Blubs and Durland were laying in towels and giggling to themselves over magazines you couldn’t make out from the dock. A couple of Wendy’s brothers were on the water fishing. Mcguckets son was lecturing some teenager sternly.

Stan had used the car to inflate a couple floats. He was walking towards the three of you, tube in hand, a  nice one too. It had a headrest, and netting in the bottom to sit on.

“Oh my god, look at that!” Mabel said, pointing into the water. 

You looked. The lake water was a little dirty, tinted greenish from some underwater plants growing off the dock legs.

“Um, what?” Dipper asked, leaning over the edge of the dock. You fought the urge to push him in, he hadn’t wronged you in a while, probably didn’t deserve it.

”Yeah, I don’t see anything, what are we looking at?” You asked, studying the lake. You didn’t even see any fish.

Mabel looked up at the both of you, jaw hung open. She pointed accusingly at the small waves. “You guys seriously didn’t see that?” She asked, brow raised. “It was like- I fucking huge fish or something!” 

You pursed your lips, glancing back at the water. It seemed all clear. “Uhhh,” you looked at Dipper, who had a matching look of apprehension, with a little curiosity. “Yeah, I didn’t see anything,” you admitted.

Dipper put his hand up like he was in a classroom, “I also didn’t see-“

“Hey kids, catch,” Stan called, hurling the tube like a frisbee. 

You turned around to look at the shore where he came from. “Huh-“ the tube hit you square in the face. The impact of the rubber got your straight in the forehead. For a soft material, it sure did hit hard when you had stitches in your face. “Fuck!”

You heard Stan suck a breath in through his teeth, “Sorry, my bad,” he said. 

Dippers jaw was hanging open as he looked at Stan, and Stan shot a thumbs up with a guilty smile and shuffled away. 

Mabel swooped I’m in front of you to look at your head. “Bandaids still on,” she said, examining the edges. She picked up the tube Stan threw, and handed it to you. “So your still alive, that’s good!”

You grimaced. At least you could tell your head was getting better, because it didn’t stay bad for long. You blinked a few times, and the pain was nearly gone. “Yippee,” you said dryly.

                                         …

Dipper and Mabel could swim, and you could… hangout. When they went in the water, you lounged in the tube.

Mabel actually had one too. She swam to shore to grab a float shaped like a pizza slice. She flopped up on it, and laid on her back, saying she was trying to get tan.  Her head was buried face down in the crust.

You might’ve rested your sunglasses on your forehead if not for the bandage. Instead, they were over your eyes as you lounged on the tube, and you hoped to god that your sunscreen would be enough to avoid a sunglasses tan line. 

It was surprising how good a job you were doing keeping the water off your face. The headrest of your float was completely dry. 

The twins traded the pizza slice around. Dipper ended up sitting on it, holding onto the side of your tube so he didn’t drift away. The tube was much higher in the water then Dippers float, so for today you were taller than him. Felt good. 

Mabel insisted on diving for pearls. You and Dipper ended up slowly drifting away from her spot by the docks, carried by the weak waves. You caught a glimpse her feet above the surface before she vanished under the water for another dive. 

You leaned over to Dipper, “I feel like we should be betting on if she finds anything, you know?”

He leaned on the tube, and you smiled seeing up close how you were a good head and a half taller than him like this. “She totally won’t, right?” He said, half as a question. 

You shrugged, “I don’t know.” She came up for air again, and took her goggles off to get some water out of them. When she saw the two of you facing her, she waved enthusiastically before putting them on again and diving. “I would say no, but it’s Gravity Falls, you can never know for sure,” you grinned. 

Dipper snickered. “Okay, if she finds a pearl, it’ll be super weird,” he said, talking with his hands as he tried to draw an elaborate picture in the air. 

“Or better yet,” you added, “not even a pearl. She finds some weird cursed gem or artifact.”

He tapped at the rubber of the float. “Okay, I like your thinking,” he said, “but she’s so shallow, like what, did some dude just drop some weird magic thing off the dock?”

You waved your hand in dismissal as you snickered. “Well maybe, like a wizard or something was walking one night and just keeps shit in his pockets,” you said, trying to think. Thinking was hard through. “Or it’s just washing up from the tide.”

Dipper snorted, “washing up from where? This is not a big lake.”

You winced, swishing your cheeks around your mouth. “Uhhh,” you started. 

Before you could come up with something, Dipper gasped. “Wait no- no you’re right,” he said quickly, looking over at the island in the other side of the lake. “I, uh- remembered. There is very much weird shit in here.” 

You pursed your lips, “Okay, well now I’m worried.” The best you could think of was how Mabel’s merman boyfriend somehow ended up in the ocean from here, so it clearly connected somewhere. That or you could make up some underwater ancient city. 

Dipper glanced around, then pointed at the island on the far side. “I’m like, eighty percent sure that island is alive, and it’s a giant floating head,” he whispered. “But we’re fine, we’re… so far over here.”

”Um,” you said, trying to think about that. You had nothing though. Your head was completely empty. You’d totally been on that island before. 

In very convenient timing, you caught a dark glimmer under the water under you. Like… a big fish. But it didn’t look right in the way it moved. “Dipper,” you said sternly, pointing to the water. 

He hummed, looking first at you, then following your finger. Luckily, it was still in a sight. A big, maybe human sized, dark shadow swimming… towards the dock. You could tell Dipper saw it, because his face first lit up with excitement, then fell. Mabel had just come up for air. 

You and Dipper looked at each other, then back at Mabel. The dark shadow had disappeared in her direction. “Dude,” you said.

”Yep,” he affirmed quickly. 

You turned, and started to paddle your tube back over to the dock. Dipper looked like he was about to do the same. You poked at his arm, “you can just swim over, man,” you said. 

He glanced at Mabel, then at the pizza slice. “Yeah, okay,” he said, rolling back into the water.

As he started to swim away, Mabel raised her hand above the water, and you couldn’t hear what she was saying. It looked like she was holding something to show. Maybe a pearl. 

In a blink though, she was almost under. Your eyes widened as her head, all but the top of her hair sunk. Then she was back with a gasp, thrashing.

You sat right up, pointing, “Holy fuck!” You couldn’t tell if Dipper saw, but he definitely heard. He looked back at you for a moment. “Go get her!” you yelled, frantically trying to paddle over. How important was your head? Should you just jump in?

You worried faded quickly though, as Dipper picked up the pace swimming to the dock. He’d get there far faster than you could anyway, now. So you paddled as best you could. 

Mabel disappeared under, and Dipper was close enough to dive after her. And for a good moment, it was oddly quiet. Most of what you heard was your own paddling. You swallowed hard. Ford was far off on the shore doing something with the water. Stan was asleep on his chair. The rest of the people on the lake didn’t seem to see anything. It was just you, the twins, and some random sea monster. Or… lake monster.

By the time you got close, they were still under. You tapped against the tube. You pulled your feet out of the water, like touching it would get you pulled down too. Should you just go? You stood up, and peered over into the waves.

Just then, you heard the surface break behind you, and gasps for air. You whipped around, nearly falling off as you did. Your knees hit the netting in the tube as you crashed down. “Guys?” You asked, paddling over to them. 

Dipper was holding Mabel, who looked more shaken up, and swimming towards you. You offered a hand, and he made Mabel take it first. Only sliding around a little bit, you managed to help haul her into the tube beside you. 

Next was Dipper. Three people in one tube was not great, but it beat touching the water. You caught a glimpse of the shadow fish under you just as Dipper was climbing on. You held the pizza slice float like a weapon to bat it away if it tried anything. It didn’t. 

Dipper and Mabel were panting, and Dippers eyes were locked on the water. 

“Guys, what happened?” You asked, starting to paddle to the dock. If you could climb up onto it, you wouldn’t have to be on the water so long. Dipper must have had the same idea, because he started helping. 

But he also kept looking back at the water. The fish was gone, though. He hummed lowly, “there was-“

”-That bitch had arms!” Mabel shouted, staring at her hands. They were shaking a little. “And they were fucking gross!” 

You grimaced. Fish with arms. Alright. You got to the dock, and Mabel was talking about the fish with arms, and black hollow eyes, according to her. The dock wasn’t too high off the water. With a boost at the feet, you and Dip got Mabel up first, then you, then you both helped to pull him up. You had his hands, so he brought the floats up one with his leg, and one with his teeth. 

You all sat on the dock a moment, catching your breath. You looked around. Nobody seemed to notice the commotion, somehow. 

“Guys!” Mabel shouted, pointing at the water.

You rushed over to the edge to see. The big fish was moving towards the shore, and closer to the surface. You could see the… arms.. flowing at its sides more clearly now that Mabel pointed them out. 

You scanned the beach. Nobody was too near the water except… Ford, kneeling by the waterline with a little machine. You sucked a breath in through your teeth, “God, Fuck.”

The fish moved pretty fast. The three of you stood up, and started to run.

Running felt weird on the head. You slowed to a jog while the others sped to Ford. 

The fish got there first, though. Dipper and Mabel were calling his name, but Ford didn’t seem to be listening. He was staring at the water. The dark shadow was swirling where he knelt, and Ford seemed hypnotized. 

“Cathrine, you came!” He said giddily. His eyes were wide and enchanted as the fish emerges from the water. 

The twins slowed down, stopping to stare. You caught up to have with them. The fish, apparently named Cathrine, was disgusting. It… or maybe she- had arms that moved and sagged and hung like kelp, and were the same colour, too. She didn’t have fingers, instead just… leaves. Her hair was a wet lump of darker plant, cooled down her back. Her skin was also a murky green, and feathered with plants and dusted with sand.

Mabel was gaping, and pointed at the slimy kelp hands, “oh my god, that touched me,” she said meekly. 

“Great uncle Ford!” Dipper yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Get away from that, it’s dangerous!”

His warning were in vein, though. Ford finally looked over at the three of you on the docks, and just waved happily, “Hi Kids!” then went back to staring into Cathrines eyes. Or… actually you weren’t sure if it had eyes, you didn’t see its face. 

Dipper started speed walking to him again, and you and Mabel followed behind. He stopped suddenly, “wait, Cathrine?” He said, one hand moving to his chin. 

You and Mabel shared a glance, silently agreeing not to interrupt his thought process.

”Cathrine- ugh, where do I recognize that…” he grumbled, string between the wood planks of the dock into the water. He snapped his fingers, “oh my god, I’ve got it,” he said, looking at Ford again. “Great uncle Ford wrote in the journal, he used to date a siren names Cathrine, do you guys think…” he trailed off, and you all looked at the big fish again. 

Yeah, she could look like a Cathrine.

“Okay, so let’s kick her away from him, right?” You asked, eying Cathrine. 

They nodded. 

When Ford saw you all approaching again, he grinned even wider at you. He pointed the three of you out to Cathrine, who turned her head to look, and for the first time you saw she did have eyes. She had hollow, pure black eyes, and completely sunken in skin, worn down like when water blazes a trail into stone. Her cheeks could have been a river, and her wrinkles like streams. 

“Kids, come meet Cathy!” Ford called happily. How Stan was still asleep on the chair with a magazine over his face, you’d never understand. 

Dipper practically wheezed, “fucking Cathy?” He looked frantically between you and Mabel, then back to Ford. He shouted across the water again, “That thing tried to drown Mabel!”

Ford waved his hand, “she wouldn’t do that,” he said quietly, possibly forgetting that you were all across the dock from him.

That might’ve been the last straw. The three of you started running to the shore again to catch Ford before something unfortunate happened. You had to slow down for your head, but even in a jog the old planks of the dock hammered under your feet. 

“You’ll love her,” Ford declared happily, taking her slimy kelp hands in his own to hold lovingly. “I think we’re going to finally tie the knot!”

Mabel had to stop running to cough and sputter as she started to laugh. “Go on without me,” she wheezed, planting her hands on her knees to support herself.

You heard Dipper mumble under his breath at her, but he kept forward towards Ford. When your feet hit the sand and dirt off the ground, Dipper was already close. Mabel coughed behind you as she caught up.

Ford was entranced in Cathrines eyes, and she was subtly pulling him closer by the hands. Well, not that subtle, actually, if you could notice from across the beach. Subtle enough that Ford didn’t seem to pay any mind. “I can’t believe it,” he said dreamily. “After all these years, I found you again.”

 ”No fucking shot,” you said, turning to Mabel as the two of you rested. Damn your head. Dipper was the only one doing anything productive. 

Catherine pulled harder, and Ford started idly leaning more toward the water, until he was wading in on his knees to follow her direction. It was only when she smiled wide that you saw her mouth. Her lips blended well into her skin, almost unnoticeable until she opened her jaw, and you could see the rows upon rows of sharpened teeth. 

“Great uncle Ford, no!” Dipper said, as if he was scolding a dog. 

You and Mabel shared a glance, and decided rest time was over. You both tried to catch up with them. 

Just as Cathy tried to yank Ford into the water, Dipper practically tackled him, wrapping his arms around his torso and pulling him back. “Great uncle Ford, snap out of it!” He yelled, turning his head so he didn’t scream in Fords ear. 

“D-dipper, what are you doing?” Ford asked, with all the hurt in his tone of a kicked puppy. He fought back against Dipper, and was far stronger. 

Luckily, just as he broke free, and Dippers grasp broke, you and Mabel got there. She took his arms, pulling them out of Cathy’s grip, while you shoved Ford onto his side in the sand and held him down. Ford tried to thrash and resist, but Mabel kept a firmer grip than Dipper did. 

“Ford, you fuck,” you said, looking as Cathrines deranged smile curled into a teeth scowl. “Do we have to kill you? What’s going on?” 

“She’s the love of my life!” 

Dipper groaned, glaring down Cathrine. 

Ford struggled against you and Mabel, hard. Mabel grumbled holding back his arms as his thrashing grew more desperate the closer Cathrine inched to the sand. Ford tried to wiggle towards her, so you sat on him to hold him down.

You looked to Dipper, expecting help. Or for him to swat the creature away. Instead, he was staring down Cathy, with what at first looked like a glare, but you went on to realize was… a trance. “God fucking-“ you started. You tried to reach him without moving too far from your post, but it didn’t work. At least Dip wasn’t moving. 

Cathy had turned her attention to your boyfriend, and Ford was not happy. “Cathy?” He practically begged. 

You were also not happy. “Dip,” you said, snapping your finger at him to get his attention. It didn’t work. In fact, he hadn’t blinked the whole time you’d been looking at him. You glanced back at Mabel, still holding thrashing arms. Ugh. “Dipper, snap the fuck out of it,” you complained. 

The siren creeped closer to him, and he made no effort to move away. Worse, he knelt down to her level. Mabel seemed to notice too, “uh, bro?” She asked. 

“Ok, Mabes, let’s both agree not to look too hard at Cathy, alright?” You said, trying to keep the fish out of your peripheral. “Cuz he can’t look away right now.”

Mabel nodded, averting her eyes. At the very least, Ford was calming down. Well, no. Calm was not the right word. Ford was depressed and disparaged like you’d never seen before, practically melting into the sand rather than thrashing for escape. 

You tentatively got up from Ford. The moment your weight was off him, he sprang up and tried to lunge for Cathrine. “Oh, fuck off,” you grumbled, tackling him again and holding him down. A low groan escaped his lips. 

Things were getting worse for Dipper though. Slowly, as if crossing a threshold, he outstretched his hand for Cathrine, despite Fords despondent wails. Her disgusting slimy leaves were dangling above him as she lowered them onto his palm. You made mental note not to touch his hands until he washed them.

You looked at Mabel. There seemed to be a stalemate going on. “Ok, what if one of us takes arms and body,” you suggested, looking at Fords sad face resting in the sand. 

“Oh!” She perked up. “I can try,” she offered. 

“Uh, on three?” You asked. You shared a nod and started to count.

On three, you leapt up towards Dipper, shoved him out of the way. You pressed your eyes into a squint as you faced Cathy, trying to avoid her face. Holy fuck her gross hand was near your legs. 

You squirmed at the thought of that touching you, and your legs moved on their own. In a swift motion that you didn’t even fully register, Cathrine was kicked in the head. Easy, since she was low to the ground on the water. 

The moment your foot collided with her face, you regretted it. Still barefoot, you could feel her grainy, slimy skin on yours, and feel the way her jaw moved with your hit, and the way it freaked with the motion. You squeaked as you recoiled away, almost wanting to cleave your foot from your body. 

Cathrine hissed, with a remarkably similar reaction to you. She slithered away back under the water like a snake, and swam away. That was all it took? 

You looked back to take stock. Mabel had knocked the wind out of Ford landing on his back, taking his arms down with her in a makeshift arm bar. Why in gods name she wasn’t doing that the whole time, you didn’t know. With Cathy gone though, he seemed to be doing better, and was actually spitting out the sand that had gotten in his mouth instead of gnawing on it defeatedly. 

You glanced at Dipper, who blinked a few times. His eyes were watery, probably recovering from the dry spell staring context he seemed to have with Cathrine. “Hey, so-“ he started, looking at you, the Ford and Mabel, then the empty spot in the water where the siren was. “Um, what happened just now?”

You snickered, “Found out you’re into old fish hags.”

Ford mumbled out a dazed, “Don’t call her that, she’s a beautiful woman.” None of that was factually correct. She looked more like a fish. 

Dippers face reddened. “I-“ he stopped himself, jaw hanging slightly open. He closed it, pursing his lips, “Yeah, I got nothing, actually.”

You rolled your eyes, and offered him a hand up. “Yeah, I didn’t think so, you freak,” you laughed smugly, “should I be jealous?”

He took the hand, brushing the sand off his legs. “Uh, maybe not you,” he said, glancing back at the ground. “But Great uncle Ford should be.”

He groaned again from the ground, and Mabel got off of him. “Do you guys, uh, wanna leave?”

You stared at the water a moment, scanning for anymore dark shadows underneath. Your eyes caught on the boat Wendy’s siblings were on. “Yeah, alright,” you affirmed. “Is somebody gonna wake Stan?”

“Not it,” Mabel said. You quickly echoed her, leaving Dipper the odd one out. 

“Why are you guys the worst?” He said, walking off toward Stans chair. Ford mumbled an agreement from the ground, and you were fine to call the beach episode done. The water was not looking amazing after seeing its creatures. And you had to go home and wash your foot as soon as possible, since cutting it off wasn’t an option. 

Next

Chat I did smth scary 💀 after like 2 years I’ve given my friend fanfic privileges back. I got one friend who matches my freak and I can trust to read my fucking x readers. Trying to write this chapter was so stressful cuz for once I was self aware of my cringe.

Taglist: @cipheress-to-k-pop @dead-esque @phobo-ss

[ashley-kins]

If I were to make the next Zelda game, what would I change?

Bring back underwater traversal and real Water Temples.

If you were to think about any iconic Zelda item that isn't a weapon, you'd most likely think about the hook/clawshot. I like that we can climb, but I miss the claw/hookshot. Personally, I'd have the Skyward Sword climbing mechanics where you can climb a little bit but not much, but make it so that the hook/clawshot can go on any surface. Even better is a double claw/hookshot so you can swing around like Spider-Man

Linkle. That's right, from the original Hyrule Warriors spin-off game. It would be cool if we got to choose to play as Link or Linkle at the beginning of the game. Make it so that Link can't get into Gerudo Town without a disguise like in Breath of the Wild, but also make it so Linkle can't get into Goron City without a disguise, that way it's even and there's no major advantage.

If Linkle can't be an option, I'd have Link be a different race than Hylian. Tears of the Kingdom already teased us with this concept with the Ancient Hero. Before TotK, the closest we got was Ocarina of Time/Majora's Mask Link who thought he was a Kokiri but found out that he was in fact Hylian and also had ghost masks to shapeshift into other races. (Or you could also add Linkle as this race too. But I think that's a bit much)

20 hearts OR harder enemies. With BotW, Link had 30 hearts. In literally every other Zelda game he had 20. With 30 hearts, it was a decent change in normal mode, but in Master Mode, it made it essential. Enemies did more damage and evolved from their normal mode counterparts. In TotK, Link has 40 hearts and no Master Mode. The enemies do basically the same damage as in BotW's normal mode and sometimes even far less with the decayed-unfused weapons. So I would make the series go back to 20 hearts or have Master Mode as the default difficulty.

A new fast travel system. Look, shrines were a good idea. Especially for a fast travel system, but if we're getting rid of the 10-20 extra hearts how I would do it, we need something else. For this, let's turn to Skyrim for just a second. The fast travel system there is broken because every cave, tower, dungeon, etc. is a fast travel point, but let's look at the towns/cities and important landmarks: they're fast travel points once we discover them. So let's turn those things into fast travel points in this hypothetical Zelda game. Now, what about the less significant parts of the map? Well, a few train stations around the map with a train. I mean, trains are in the Zelda universe. Spirit Tracks literally is about that, so it wouldn't be a big deal. I had this idea back in 2021, and now even fucking Fortnite has a train around a map with a few train stations in random spots.

This one will make a bit more sense if you read my "If I were to make a Zelda game, what would I keep?" post. Heart Pieces/Stamina pieces. You could go the normal route with 4 pieces makes a full thing or go Twilight Princess style with 5 pieces makes a full thing. These would probably be given as quest rewards in quests that are Side Adventures rather than Main Quests or Side Quests. Side quests would give you rupees or a rare item and Main Quests will give you more story progression.

Bring back the "one-and-done" races like the Kokiri, Twili, Minish, Zonai, Lokomo, etc.

[medusapelagia]

09 - The chirping creature

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Upside Down  ), @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: joker, Wings), and  @aug-kissed  (prompt: Butterly kisses) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: Kas!Eddie, blood Words: 1544

This is the stupidest idea Steve has ever had.

Well, maybe not the stupidest, going back to Byler's house armed only with a nailed bat or follow the kids down the tunnels with a pair of goggles and a scarf to protect his mouth and his nose was pretty stupid too, but going back in the Upside Down alone to retrieve Eddie Munson's body… yeah that was another level of stupidity.

After all, it wasn't his fault if his house was the closest to the trailer park and his parents weren't around to stop him.

Robin probably would have tried, but she was home with her parents, promising not to leave without a word during the next apocalypse and Dustin was still at the ER with a sprained ankle and a very worried mom. The same place where Steve should have been, probably, but his bites were too big for stitches and there was no way he was going to let someone sedate him during an apocalypse, so he just asked for clean bandages and signed his discharge paper against medical advice.

Perks of being twenty.

Walking through the woods, Steve wonders why he never realized how close Eddie's trailer and his house were. Not that he actually cared about the strange guy who used to jump on tables making anticonformists speeches and offending him and his friends. Well, now that he thinks about it, that's probably the reason.

The cracks in the ground aren't on fire as they were when they managed to escape from the Upside Down for sheer luck. Steve stops for a moment, reminding himself that he's getting back in a place full of deadly creatures that can smell blood from yards, with a flashlight, a radio, and a nailed bat. Well, he hopes to find the weapon they left there, but yes. This is a very stupid idea.

Looking down through the cracks, Steve sees only darkness.

For a moment he wonders if the passage between the two dimensions closed after their escape, but a red solitary thunder in the distance tells him that it's not the case.

Taking a deep breath, Steve makes a giant step, the same his diving instructor taught him to do before diving underwater. He holds his breath while he falls and the up becomes down and the down becomes up. The landing is rough and he whimpers, holding his sides with one arm while fishing for the flashlight in his backpack.

The place is still ominous as he remembered. Steve tries to keep calm, moving slowly and quietly toward the place where he last saw Eddie, lying in his own blood, surrounded by dead demobats and with a crying Dustin by his side.

It's a little comfort knowing that he didn't die alone, which is probably way more than what Steve could hope for himself, given the fact that he’s a fucking hurt prey without a pack to protect him, but he tries really hard not to think about it while he keeps moving.

The abandoned bicycle is still there and so it's the dry pool of blood. But Eddie's body is nowhere to be found.

Steve looks around himself, confused, he's one hundred percent sure that’s the place. Did the demodogs drag Eddie’s body somewhere else to feed on him?

God, that's disgusting. How cold he left Eddie's body there! Steve should have found a way to take him with them, even if he was hurt and he and Robin had to wrangle Dustin toward the gate.

"Eddie..." he sighs, and his knees give away making him fall on the dirt, while Steve hits his leg with frustration.

Steve made the wrong choice as always! He should have… he should…!

"I'm so sorry, Eddie," Steve whispers, while hot tears fall on his face here, where none can see him cry.

He screams into the void, knowing that he will attract every fucking monster, but its pain and his rage are boiling inside him and the only thing he can do is scream until he has no more voice.

That's so unfair!

Unfair for them, who had to face monsters for years because people were greedy, and unfair for Eddie, who’s dead but is still the number one suspect in Chrissy's murder. Unfair for every single person who lives in Hawkins and thinks that it's just a quiet town in Indiana.

When he finally stops screaming his voice is hoarse and his eyes are puffy, but no monster showed its horrid face.

Steve grabs some dirt and shoves it into his pocket. It makes no sense, but it makes him feel better knowing that he has something that belonged to Eddie, even if it's just dirt and dried blood.

He gets up, slowly, ready to get back to the Right Side Up and admit his defeat, when he hears a chirping sound coming from the other side of the trailer park.

It doesn't sound like a growl, typical of demodogs, or a shriek, typical of demobats. It's a chirp. Like a bird one. Only… way lower.

Steve stops, staring at the numerous trailers lined one after the other but sees nothing. Thinking that it was his imagination, he turns again, stepping toward the crack, but he hears the chirp again, this time closer than before.

He turns immediately, holding his flashlight high to enlighten whatever might be coming for him, but once more, he sees nothing.

This time Steve is sure he didn't imagine it, so he starts stepping back, while keeping his eyes pinned on the trailers, looking for any movement. And then he hears the chirp again, but this time it's way closer and it's behind him. Steve freezes, feeling goosebumps while he slowly turns toward the creature that's towering behind him. 

He doesn't get the time to turn because the creature's chest hits Steve's back. It feels strong, and firm, and there's a pale pair of arms ready to… hug him tight?

Steve stares at the pale arms that are surrounding him and recognizes a familiar tattoo: a flock of black bats.

"Eddie?" He asks, confused, feeling his heart beating so loudly that it’s the only sound Steve can hear.

The creature chirps again, nuzzling at Steve's nape before rubbing his cheek against Steve's. The creature's long eyelashes flutter a few times against Steve's cheek in a sweet and soft movement that soothes Steve.

If Eddie is giving him butterfly kisses he's not going to eat him, right?

"Are you ok, Eddie? You sound… different."

The creature chirps again, releasing his hold and stepping back.

Steve remains still for a few moments and then he slowly turns… just to find a huge pair of membranous wings shielding someone.

"Eddie?" he calls again, reaching out with one hand to touch the wings that are dusty pink and there are covered in blue veins. The skin is soft under Steve's fingertip, and the wing twitches like a cat's ear, revealing for a moment the creature hidden behind it.

"Eddie. It's ok. It's just me. Steve." he tries again, "Can you… can you show yourself to me?"

The wings shake while a deeply unhappy chirp comes from the creature.

"Ok. Take your time. I'm going to wait here with you and-"

At those words the wings open and the creature starts chirping in a panicked way, shaking his head, grabbing Steve by the arm, and dragging him toward the crack.

"Hold on. Hold on. I'm not going back without you!" Steve yells, digging his heels and trying to resist the creature's pulling.

When the creature turns toward him, for the first time Steve sees how different Eddie is. His light skin is even paler, his eyes are red and shiny, his mouth is covered in dark dry blood and he has an enormous pair of wings, taller than him, that end with some long black claws and that now are open wide and are casting an ominous shadow.

"Well… you grew taller." Steve chuckles, trying to ease the mood, and Eddie tilts his head before chirping again with a soft smile, while he retracts his wings slowly.

Eddie tries to speak again, getting frustrated when only a chirp comes out from his mouth, but Steve steps closer to him, taking his hand that now has long black claws.

"We'll find a way to get you back." He promises, even if he has no idea how, "For the moment you could stay at my place. My house is big and my parents are never home."

Eddie points at himself and then at Steve, chirping questions that Steve can't really understand, but he can guess.

"Yeah. You and me, at my place. I'll even let you choose the movie for movie night, how does it sound?"

Eddie smiles and his smile has way too many teeth to be human, but somehow is the same shy smile Steve remembered.

The creature tilts his head, hearing something that Steve can only dream to hear, and quickly lifts Steve bridal style, running toward the crack. If there's a positive side in Eddie's new form, is that flying from one dimension to the other is way more easy than jumping.

And the rest is a problem for another day.