#i had kind of a rough one off my meds. it always is but like. damn. having the self-awareness really does not always save you.

[moe-broey]

Whatever....

Plus some other doodles! Not super in-depth, I didn't set out to think too deeply about it... but the Idle pose is what it would look like on the main menu/other areas where the sprites are relaxed, and the Battle Ready pose is the little animation the characters go into on a map. (The first drawing was meant to be the Battle Ready one, but! Changed my mind.)

I think the idea of Moe swapping expressions between the main poses is really cute, ESP if the expressions are opposites. Like you see characters go from a serious expression into an >:0 expression (and similarly, a smile into :D ), but I'm not sure if there's any that go from smiling to frowning/pouting... I really like the characterization of it, actually. Beyond how expressive it is in general, on a conceptual level, Moe is about balancing (if not mishmashing) opposite traits.

Any which way, the drawing I colored in is Exactly what I was envisioning for a Moe sprite! Which. I kind of alluded to w my attempt at a sprite edit (separate post). Moe would need a whole ass custom sprite. From its outfit to its pose (doesn't quite match Kiran's/the other Summoners you can pick from!). Plus, it's a staff user who has a tendency to do raptor hands (or ghost sleeves, or gay limp wrist......). I feel like its sprite would be smaller than the standard Summoners, too. Like Legendary Nohrian Corrin (being oddly smaller than all the other f!Corrins!)

I am... thinking deeply about it........

[romugh]

RUNNING IN CIRCLES- NR

ROMUGH’S KINKTOBER

october 23rd — stress relief, free use, friends with benefits

DAY FOURTEEN || kinktober masterlist || 2024.

pairing- natasha romanoff x medic!avenger!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natty, fingering (n rcv), oral (n & r rcv), rough & vulnerable sex? not many tags in this one!

wc- 8438 words

a/n- absolutely loved writing this :') differs from my usual filthy stories, but it's still got it's smutty goodness hidden! :p very poorly edited and reread though, sorry in advance <3

synopsis- uhhh later i gotta study

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel ♥︎, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches, @lizziewitchy ❀ - comment or dm to be added :)

The crisp autumn air carried a bite that sank into your skin, even through the thick fabric of your SHIELD uniform. Outside, the trees had begun their slow transformation, leaves turning from deep greens to vivid shades of amber and crimson. As you walked down the corridor, you could see the skyline of the city framed by the headquarters’ tall windows, the buildings standing tall against the grey-blue sky streaked with the orange light of dusk.

Autumn had always been your favourite time of year. There was something invigorating about the chill in the air, the way it sharpened your senses and reminded you of the changing seasons. It wasn’t just a shift in weather—it was a time of transition, of letting go and starting anew. The world seemed to draw inward, becoming quieter, more introspective. And yet, for all its beauty, autumn was also a time of unravelling, of revealing the underlying fragility beneath nature’s vibrant display.

It wasn’t much different from life at SHIELD, you thought. The polished surfaces and steel corridors held a kind of deceptive calm, a veil over the constant motion of agents moving from one mission to the next, patching themselves up and heading right back into the fray. The medical team worked tirelessly in the med bay, patching up wounds that spoke stories of close calls and dangerous encounters, although there were always those who chose to bypass the med bay entirely.

Natasha Romanoff was one of those.

You’d seen her a handful of times in the corridors and offices, her expression always calm, almost detached, as she moved with a purpose that never faltered. It wasn’t that she was unapproachable—she exchanged words with other agents quite often, actually—but there was a clear distance she kept, a barrier that kept others from getting too close. As far as you knew, she had not once come to the medical wing. If she had sustained injuries, she kept them hidden well to an untrained eye.

You suspect that she handled most (if not all) of her wounds herself, stitching up gashes in the quiet solitude of her room and bandaging bruises with the same efficiency as she did her missions. It was the kind of self-sufficiency you’d expect from someone with her background. She had come to SHIELD from a life that demanded resilience, a life where depending on others could mean the difference between survival and death.

But the traces were there if you, SHIELD’s best medic both on and off the field, looked closely enough. Sometimes, when she crossed paths with you in the halls, you’d notice a faint mark along her jaw, or the slight favouring of one leg over the other. Nothing major, but enough to suggest she wasn’t invincible, no matter how she made it seem. It was as if she considered her injuries her own secret to keep, never offering them up for anyone else to see.

You often wondered what it was that kept her from seeking help. Pride, perhaps, or a simple lack of trust in others’ abilities to treat wounds as precisely as she could. Or maybe it was just a habit—an old reflex from her past, carried over into the present, one that kept her self-reliant to the point of isolation.

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity whenever you saw her passing by. What kind of person could continue like that, carrying their pain alone and never asking for anything? What did it cost her to keep everyone else at arm’s length? And what would it take for her to finally walk through the doors of the med bay, to let herself be cared for by someone else?

(You acted like it wouldn't matter if that someone else turned out to be you.)

(It did matter. Who are you trying to fool??)

The Avengers, Fury and his right hand eye Maria, and Agent Coulson were seated at the debriefing table, half-listening to Fury’s voice as he went over details of the recent happenings in New York. The room felt cold and stale despite the hushed murmurs and shifting bodies of the gathered Avengers. Natasha was no stranger to these debriefings, yet today felt different. There was a tension that hung in the air, a sense of expectation she couldn’t quite shake.

Fury paused, glancing toward Maria before asking, "Where’s Dr. [Y/L/N]? I want her in here for this."

Maria nodded, left the room with a quick stride, and the space fell into a brief, uncertain silence. Natasha’s brows furrowed as she stared at the door Maria had just exited through. She had heard the name before—Dr. [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. The head medic at SHIELD, supposedly one of the best in the business. Natasha knew your name, but that was it. She’d never bothered to seek you out, preferring to handle her own injuries anyway, to keep her vulnerabilities under lock and key.

As the door opened again and you entered behind Maria, the quiet murmur of the room seemed to still completely. You stepped in with a confidence that felt almost casual, your uniform fitting snugly against your muscular frame, showcasing the strength in your arms and legs, while still accentuating your femininity. You had a kind of presence that filled the room—bold yet serene. It was something that Natasha found herself drawn to almost immediately, her attention locking onto you as you came to stand near the table.

Your skin seemed to glow against the muted tones of the room, a healthy flush brought out by the brisk autumn air outside. Natasha’s gaze drifted over you, taking in the shape of your jaw, the arch of your brow, the curve of your lips. You looked… different from what she’d expected. Not in a way that was disappointing—no, far from it. It was more that she hadn’t expected someone with your kind of beauty to be the person who spent their days stitching together the wounds of agents, taking care of others in a world that offered so little care in return.

God, you were so pretty.

Natasha hadn’t meant for the thought to hit her so suddenly, but there it was. It unfolded in her mind with a kind of vividness that startled her. You were pretty. No—beautiful. Strong. Mesmerising, even. The kind of person who stood out without trying, who seemed to belong in the very air around them.

She cursed herself quietly, realising she was staring, and that her thoughts were running away with her. Her chest tightened with a strange, unexpected sensation, something that lingered in the back of her throat, catching at her breath. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this about anyone—let alone someone she had just met, or if she ever even had felt this way at all.

She hadn’t even really met you yet. She was just looking at you—right now, at this exact moment—for the first time.

And already, there was something there. An unfamiliar warmth unfurling beneath her ribs, spreading outwards in a way that made her wonder if it was adrenaline or something else entirely.

As you took a seat at the table, Maria introduced you to the Avengers, Bruce and Tony sending you a small smile in recognition, "Dr. [Y/L/N], head medic at SHIELD, also responsible for overseeing the field medics. She’s been with us for a while now, recently keeping out of the action but always ensuring our agents come back in one piece."

The explanation seemed distant to Natasha, drowned out by the thoughts that crowded her mind. You had been the head medic at SHIELD all this time, and she had never even thought to step foot in the med bay. How many times had she stitched herself up in her room, refusing to show any sign of weakness to anyone? And now, she couldn’t help but feel the slightest hint of regret. What would it have been like to be treated by you? To have those hands bandaging her wounds?

A blush crept onto her cheeks unbidden, and she clenched her jaw to hide it, forcing herself to focus on Fury as he spoke. But then there was that moment, that brief exchange when you glanced her way, and your eyes met hers for the first time. Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, a hitch so subtle she doubted anyone noticed. But she noticed it. She felt the way her pulse quickened just the slightest bit.

You were speaking to Fury now, your voice calm and unwavering as you discussed your hesitation about the new position. Natasha listened intently, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. It wasn’t like her to pay this much attention to a person she didn’t know. Yet, there was something about you—the way you carried yourself, the way you seemed both grounded and powerful, that made her want to know more.

She hadn’t taken her eyes off you since you walked in.

You let out a sigh, your mind racing with the implications of what Fury was asking. It wasn’t that you doubted your ability; you had proven your strength countless times in the field, and your physique—a testament to hours of gruelling training—reflected that. But something about this offer felt different. He was asking for more than medical expertise. He wanted you back in the thick of things, facing enemies head-on while patching up your teammates whenever that would be needed.

“What exactly would change?” you finally asked, voice steady as you pretended not to feel the Black Widow’s gaze boring into your soul.

She could sense your uncertainty as you spoke, could see the way you hesitated when Fury explained that the role would involve being more than just a medic. You’d be a full-fledged agent, an Avenger, basically. You looked at Fury with scepticism in your gaze, your lips pursed in a faint frown. Natasha almost smiled at that. She liked the way you questioned things, the way you didn’t simply accept everything at face value.

The weight of his words settled in. You would be more than a healer. You would be a warrior.

You sighed softly, shook your head, and stood up. You walked over to Fury, reaching into the breast pocket of his coat and pulling out his pen with a deft, graceful movement. It was such a simple act, but Natasha found herself watching every second of it, as if it were a dance unfolding right before her. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears, the steady thrum of it filling her senses.

When you signed the paper and handed the pen back to Fury, Natasha could have sworn she saw the faintest hint of a smirk curling at the corners of your lips, as if you were silently challenging the world—or maybe just him. And just like that, you turned and walked out of the room, leaving behind an unexpected sense of anticipation in your wake.

Natasha realised then, as the door clicked shut behind you, that her curiosity was already blooming into something else, something she didn’t want to acknowledge, didn’t want to admit.

Yet for the first time in her life, she found herself wondering what it would be like to let someone in, to let someone see past the carefully constructed walls she kept around herself.

‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚

Natasha found herself standing at her room’s door, her fingertips grazing the very faint burn on her palm. The dull sting served as a reminder of her momentary distraction in the kitchen. She glanced at the door across the hallway—your door—still unoccupied. Her brow furrowed, lips pressing into a thin line as her mind wandered to thoughts of you. You should’ve moved in by now, settled into your newly assigned Avengers room in front of hers. But for some reason, it remained untouched, a constant reminder that you weren’t there.

It was absurd, really. She wasn’t used to this—this strange, inexplicable feeling of missing someone she barely knew.

With a frustrated sigh, she turned on her heels and headed down the corridor, her steps picking up pace. 

She wasn’t sure why she was doing this—why she was making her way to the med bay for something so minor. The skin wasn’t even burned, just red and slightly tender, the kind of irritation that would go away in an hour or so. Normally, she wouldn’t even give it a second thought. But this time, as she approached the med bay, she found herself hoping that you were there.

The sliding doors parted, and Natasha hesitated at the threshold, her gaze searching the room. There you were, sitting in your office behind the glass walls, a faint frown on your face as you worked on some paperwork, your work glasses perched delicately on your nose. Her heart gave an unsteady thump as she took you in, the way the light cast gentle shadows across your features. It was so mundane, so normal, yet something about seeing you there—focused, calm, and completely unaware of her presence—sent a jolt of nervous energy rushing through her.

As if sensing her gaze, you looked up from your work. Your eyes met hers, and for a second, everything seemed to slow. The tension in her chest unravelled just a bit, the weight of her own uncertainty lifting at the sight of the small, welcoming smile you sent her way.

But then, the reality of the situation crashed back in, her nerves flaring up once more. What was she doing here? Natasha wasn’t used to feeling nervous—she was the Black Widow, for god's sake. Yet the warmth creeping up her cheeks betrayed her, and she quickly averted her eyes, glancing around the med bay in a futile attempt to hide the flush that tinged her skin. She scanned the empty beds, hoping for any distraction, any excuse to turn back. There wasn’t a single medic in sight.

When she glanced back at you, you were still watching her, your expression now tinged with a hint of curiosity. The small smile remained on your lips, but your brows drew together slightly, a question forming in your eyes as you took in her hesitant stance. Natasha stood there, rooted in place, her hand still pressed to the burn that she’d nearly forgotten about.

You tilted your head, motioning her inside with a simple gesture. She took a steadying breath, feeling her pulse quicken as she pushed open the door to your office. Her steps were quieter than usual, hesitant even, as she crossed the threshold. She took a steadying breath, walking into your office with a calm that didn’t quite reach her racing pulse. Your eyes tracked her movements, and she could feel your gaze lingering on her, keen and observant.

“Natasha,” you greeted, your tone light, yet there was an underlying note of concern. “This is a surprise.” You glanced at her hand, then back to her face, as if piecing together the puzzle before you. “What brings you to the med bay?”

She swallowed, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. “Burned myself,” she admitted, her voice steady, though it felt like every nerve in her body was lit up with the awareness of how close you were, of how you were looking at her with such careful attention. She showed you her hand, revealing the reddened skin of her palm.

Your gaze flickered down to the ‘burn’, your expression softening as you took her hand in yours. Your touch was gentle, professional, but even so, it sent a jolt of awareness through her.

You gave the faintest chuckle as you looked at the ‘injury’, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Not sure this qualifies as a burn,” you said, your tone dry, though not unkind. “More like… a heated reminder that pans get hot.”

Natasha huffed, her lips curving into a small, reluctant smile. “Guess I’m not much of a chef,” she murmured. The words tasted foreign on her tongue, an admission of sorts, one she wouldn’t normally make. But there was something about the way you looked at her—patient, unhurried—that made her feel like she could let that slip.

You motioned for her to sit on one of the medical beds, and though you knew you wouldn’t need to treat her ‘burn’, you figured it would be better than letting her stand there awkwardly. “Go ahead, take a seat,” you said with a nod toward the bed. “Might as well make you comfortable while I bandage you up for, uh, safety reasons.”

She sat onto the bed, her movements graceful but not entirely relaxed, as if she didn’t know what to do with herself in this setting. You took your time gathering a few supplies—far more than you needed, really—giving her a chance to settle in. As you approached, you couldn’t help but wonder what had truly brought her here. The faint redness on her palm wasn’t worth a trip to the med bay, especially not for someone like Natasha, who you knew could take a bullet without flinching.

You gently took her hand in yours, inspecting the skin. “Honestly,” you murmured, keeping your tone light, “I’ve seen paper cuts worse than this.” You dabbed at the redness with a disinfectant wipe, more out of habit than necessity. “If you’re planning on cooking again, though, I’d recommend sticking to things that don’t involve open flames. Or hot pans. Or, well, anything that could potentially burn the whole tower down.”

A faint scoff escaped her, but there was a trace of amusement there, even if she wouldn’t admit it. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied, her voice laced with dry humour. But as you worked, she found herself less focused on the barely noticeable sting of the wipe and more on the warmth of your hands, the way your touch was careful and gentle, even though it really didn’t need to be.

“You know,” you started again, your tone conversational, “I didn’t think I’d ever see the infamous Natasha Romanoff in the med bay.” Your lips curved into a teasing smile. “I thought you were allergic to hospitals.”

Natasha scoffed, rolling her eyes even as a faint smile tugged at her lips. “Not allergic,” she replied.

You began to wrap a small bandage around her palm—a completely unnecessary measure, but you had a suspicion that there was more to her visit than a minor kitchen mishap. You chuckled softly, and the sound wrapped around her, disarming her in a way she hadn’t expected.

“Well, I’m honoured to be your first doctor,” you said, your tone light but sincere. “I solemnly swear to do my best to make it worth your while.”

There was a brief, comfortable silence as you finished bandaging her hand, your touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. When you finally stepped back, Natasha found herself reluctant to leave the warmth of your presence. It felt strange—this desire to stay, to linger in your office just a little while longer. But before she could come up with an excuse, you spoke again.

“Try not to make a habit of burning yourself, okay?” you said, your tone gently teasing. “But if you do, you know where to find me. Well, you’re welcome here anytime, actually not just with me,” you said, the warmth in your tone unmistakable. “Even if it’s just to burn yourself on another pan.”

Natasha shook her head slightly, a small smile curling at her lips as she slipped off the bed. “Thanks, doc,” she murmured, her voice softer now, the weight of her unspoken thoughts hanging in the air between you. She turned to leave, but not without glancing back over her shoulder, her eyes lingering on you for just a moment longer.

When she walked out, she felt an odd mix of relief and regret, like she’d left something important behind in that small, sterile room. But there was also a sense of quiet anticipation, a nagging thought at the back of her mind that maybe, just maybe, she’d be finding her way back to you sooner than she’d expected.

As the med bay’s room clicked shut behind her, Natasha couldn’t help but notice the absence of that soothing calmness your presence brought.

Her thoughts trailed back to the feeling of your hands on her skin, the way you looked at her with such genuine care. It was foreign, this sense of wanting to be seen, to be taken care of. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. But as she headed back to her room, her mind kept drifting to you, to the thought of what it might be like to let herself be vulnerable for once. To let someone in.

And it was that thought that left her standing in the hallway, staring at your empty room again, with a faint glimmer of anticipation she didn’t quite know how to name.

‧₊��🕷‧₊˚

The dimly lit corridors of the Avengers Tower were quiet at this hour, the stillness only broken by the sound of Natasha’s footsteps as she made her way down the hall. It was well past midnight when she returned from the mission, her body aching from bruises and scrapes that ran deeper than they looked. There were no major injuries—nothing that would keep her from reporting for duty tomorrow—but she knew she needed to see you. There was something different about this mission, something that gnawed at her. The kind of thing she didn’t talk about.

When she reached the med bay, she found the lights still on in your office. You were hunched over a tablet, reviewing some data from the Regeneration Cradle project, still in your scrubs despite the late hour. Natasha hesitated for a moment, unsure of what exactly had drawn her here yet again. But before she could question it any further, you glanced up and saw her standing there, framed by the doorway, your brows knitting together in concern as you took in her dishevelled appearance.

“Natasha,” you murmured, rising from your chair and crossing the room in a few swift strides. “What happened?”

She shrugged, the motion a little stiff, her expression unreadable. “Mission got a bit rough. Nothing I can’t handle,” she replied, though you noticed the faint tremor in her voice. It was almost imperceptible, but you’d spent enough time with her now to pick up on the small cracks in her otherwise flawless façade.

“Sit down,” you said softly, your voice steady but firm, leaving no room for argument. She obeyed without protest, settling onto one of the medical beds while you began to gather supplies. As you worked to clean and dress her wounds, you could see the signs of fatigue written across her features, the way her shoulders sagged and the dullness in her usually sharp eyes.

You tended to her in silence for a while, your hands moving with practised ease, but as you wrapped a bandage around her arm, you noticed the distant look in her gaze. Her mind was somewhere else, reliving whatever had unfolded on that mission. It wasn’t just the bruises or the cuts—something deeper had left its mark on her, something that bandages couldn’t heal.

When you finished, you packed up the supplies and glanced at the clock. You could see the exhaustion settling over her like a weight she couldn’t shake off. “Come on,” you said quietly, your tone gentle yet insistent. “Let’s get you out of here.”

She raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity and surprise flickering across her expression. “And go where?” she asked, though her voice was softer now, not challenging.

You didn’t answer right away, just gave her a small, reassuring smile as you started toward the door. She fell into step beside you, and for a moment, the silence stretched on, neither of you quite sure what to say. It wasn’t until you reached your floor, walked into the hallway and passed by the door to your own room that she noticed your hand lingering on that handle.

Natasha watched as you pushed the door open and stepped inside. It was the first time she’d seen you enter your room, and something about it felt significant, like you were crossing a line that had been quietly drawn between SHIELD-you and Avenger-you. But just as quickly, you emerged again, pulling the door shut behind you as if it had been nothing at all.

You turned to her, and before she could think of anything to say, you placed your hand gently on the small of her back, your touch grounding her in the quiet darkness of the hallway. Leaning in close, you whispered, “You’re not going to be alone tonight, Natasha. I’m not leaving you to deal with this by yourself.” Your voice was firm, yet so tender it almost broke her resolve.

Her breath hitched, and she felt a shiver run through her at the closeness, at the feeling of your warmth pressed lightly against her. The words hung in the air, wrapping around her in a way that made her want to lean into you, to let down the walls she’d so carefully built up. But she didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t used to someone offering to tend to her in this way, to look beyond the bruises and cuts and see the wounds that lay beneath.

You saw the hesitation flicker in her eyes, so you took a step forward, pushing the door to her room open with your foot and guiding her inside. She let you steer her, grateful for the quiet control you took over the situation. It felt strangely freeing to relinquish that power, even just a little, and she found herself relishing the way you took charge, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Her mind was racing now, her thoughts blurring into a haze as she imagined you continuing to take control—not just over this moment, but over her entirely. She could almost see it, feel it—the way your hands would travel across her skin, guiding her to let go, to forget about the burdens that weighed on her. It was a dangerous line to tread, one she’d never dared to walk before. But as you gently steered her toward the bed, keeping your hand at the small of her back, she found herself wishing for it, craving it.

You closed the door behind you with a quiet click, the sound almost like a promise. “You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered, your voice steady, yet carrying a note of command that sent another shiver down her spine. “Just let me take care of you tonight. Whatever you need.”

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, the emotions swirling inside her too complex, too raw to unravel right then. But as she sank down onto the bed, she allowed herself to look up at you, her eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. There was none. Only the steady calm of your gaze and the silent promise that you wouldn’t let your friend and teammate be alone with the darkness of her thoughts.

The room was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning and the gentle rustling of sheets as Natasha settled onto the bed. You could see right away now that something was different about her tonight—her movements were slower, her gaze unfocused, and there was a hesitance in the way she held herself. This wasn’t the confident, self-assured woman you’d come to know. She looked almost… lost.

You didn’t comment on it, though. There was no need to call attention to what was already evident in the way she slumped slightly, or the way her eyes drifted to the floor, avoiding yours. Instead, you pulled up a chair beside the bed, lowering yourself to her level. "Natasha," you said softly, your voice laced with concern, "is it alright for you if I stay here tonight?" She looked up at you, a flicker of surprise crossing her expression. "I see what you're going through," you continued, your tone gentle and reassuring. "You don’t have to say anything, but I just want you to know that you’re safe here. I meant it when I said you could always come to me.”

She nodded, a small, almost imperceptible motion, but there was a weight to it that spoke louder than words. "You can stay," she murmured, though the admission seemed to make her tense up even more, as if the very act of accepting comfort was something foreign to her.

You moved to sit beside her on the bed, and she hesitated for a moment before scooting closer, leaning into you ever so slightly. Her mind must have been racing, you realised, because the look in her eyes was distant, glazed over with something that lay beyond mere exhaustion. A soft flush began to bloom on her cheeks, high up on those sharp cheekbones of hers, and you could see the way her breath quickened ever so slightly.

Curious, you tilted her chin up with your fingers, guiding her gaze back to you. "Natasha," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, "talk to me."

Her composure cracked like thin ice under the weight of her emotions. Her shoulders slumped, and her breath shuddered out of her. "The mission," she began, her voice raw and tired, "it was… draining. More than usual." She took a shaky breath, her eyes glistening with a vulnerability you hadn’t this explicitly seen from her before. "I’m so exhausted, in my head… But my body doesn’t know how to stop. I can’t seem to switch off, not even for a few hours of sleep."

You pulled her into your arms without hesitation, feeling her melt into your embrace as you held her close. Her head rested against your chest, her breaths coming in uneven patterns as you gently stroked her hair, your fingers running through the strands in a soothing rhythm. She nestled herself deeper into you, finding comfort in the steady beat of your heart, and for a long while, you simply held her, letting the silence stretch on as she settled into the warmth of your touch.

After a while, she tilted her head up, resting her chin against your sternum so she could meet your gaze. Her eyes were dark, filled with a yearning you couldn’t quite place, and she whispered, "Do you… have a remedy for that? For this? For helping me sleep?" There was something in the way she said it that carried more weight than just the words themselves, like she was asking for something deeper, something that went beyond comfort and rest.

You shook your head softly, your fingers still combing through her hair. "I don’t," you admitted, your voice low and steady, "but I can stay with you. I’ll be here, Natasha. For as long as you need me."

A small, frustrated whine escaped her lips as she burrowed her face into your chest again, trying to get comfortable in your embrace. She shifted against you, the silk of her bralette brushing against your skin as she cuddled closer, her hands slowly trailing down your sides. You continued to rub her back, your hands tracing gentle circles over the soft material, pressing into the tense muscles to release the knots that seemed to have built up there. She sighed into your touch, her breath hot against your skin, her body relaxing bit by bit under your ministrations.

But then, as your hands wandered lower, you felt it—the slight roll of her hips against your thigh, a subtle motion at first, as if she hadn’t quite realised she was doing it. But there was no mistaking the soft, breathy moan that slipped from her lips as she continued, her body responding to the contact in a way that betrayed her exhaustion. It was instinctual, unthinking—her hips moved with a slow rhythm, grinding against the muscle of your thigh, her breath quickening as she unconsciously chased some kind of relief.

Your hands stilled for a moment, and you could feel your pulse quicken at the realisation of what was happening. You hadn’t expected this—hadn’t anticipated that her need for comfort would turn into something else. But as she pressed herself against you, her breath becoming more laboured with each movement, you found yourself reacting to her in ways you hadn’t thought you would. Heat pooled low in your belly, and you felt the tension building as she rutted against you, completely unaware of just how much she was affecting you.

You slipped your hands lower, cupping her behind and giving it a firm squeeze, feeling the way she gasped, the sound escaping her lips louder than before. "Natasha," you breathed, your voice low and gravelly as you massaged the flesh beneath your hands, the heat of her skin searing through the thin silk.

She whimpered at your touch, burying her face even deeper into your chest as if to hide the flush that burned across her cheeks. Her hands fisted the fabric of your pyjama shirt, tugging at it almost desperately, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly as you reached down to help her peel it off. She pushed it up and over your head with trembling hands, her gaze still filled with that desperate, confused need that made her look so beautifully vulnerable.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, your voice gentle but laced with a hint of command. “I’m here, Natasha. I’m your best friend, remember? I said I’d help you with anything.” The words hung in the air between you, their meaning sinking in as you brushed your thumb over the curve of her cheek. Her breathing hitched, her eyes searching yours for reassurance, and you gave it to her without hesitation, pulling her closer until there was no space left between your bodies.

Natasha’s body trembled against yours, the air thick with a mixture of tension and anticipation. Her breath came in shallow pants, and you could feel the way her muscles tensed as your hands wandered over her curves again, massaging the silk-covered skin beneath your touch. You kissed along the side of her neck, gentle and slow, as if to coax her into relaxing even further, but you could sense the way she craved more—something deeper, something stronger.

Her hands gripped your shoulders, nails digging in as you eased her back onto the bed. She lay beneath you, her hair fanned out across the pillow, and you took a moment to admire the flush on her cheeks, the darkened look in her eyes that spoke of need.

Natasha’s breath hitched, her back arching instinctively as your hand slid between her thighs, grazing the damp fabric of her underwear. She gasped, hips jerking up to meet your touch, the thin barrier doing nothing to hide the wetness that had already pooled there.

"You're so tense," you whispered, your voice low and soothing as you slipped a hand inside her panties, finally touching her bare. The heat of her arousal coated your fingers, and Natasha’s head fell back with a sigh as you began to trace slow, teasing circles over her clit. "Just let go for me… I'm right here."

Your words seemed to unravel something in her, a barrier breaking down as her legs fell open wider, inviting more of your touch. You slid a finger inside her, her walls clenching around you instantly, hot and slick.

Her moans were soft at first, barely audible as you set a gentle rhythm, the pads of your fingers curling up to stroke that sensitive spot inside her that made her toes curl. She was dripping, her arousal coating your fingers as you slipped another one in, filling her more. Her hips moved in time with your thrusts, as if seeking even more pressure, more friction.

It was pure bliss for her; your touch was skilled, coaxing her closer to release with every deliberate stroke. Her hands fisted the sheets as you leaned down, kissing along her collarbone, and you could feel the way she trembled beneath you, her thighs quivering.

It didn’t take long before you felt her tightening around your fingers, her breath coming faster, her moans growing higher and more desperate. You kept your pace even as she came, her body shuddering in pleasure, riding out the waves of her first orgasm.

You kept your touch and movements gentle, drawing out her pleasure, letting her ride the waves as they gradually ebbed, not wanting to overwhelm her just yet.. But just as her breathing steadied, a hoarse whisper escaped her lips, "More… please, I need… rougher."

The desperation in her voice was raw, unfiltered, and it made something tighten in your chest. This wasn’t just about pleasure; she was asking for something deeper, a way to escape the weight she carried.

Natasha’s skin glowed with a light sheen of sweat, the warmth radiating off her body mixing with the coolness of the room. As you leaned over her, your hands travelled the curves of her ribs, fingers slipping beneath the hem of her silk bralette. The fabric felt smooth against your fingertips as you traced over the taut muscles of her abdomen, her body tense and ready beneath you. She let out a soft sigh, a quiet surrender as she allowed herself to let go, to focus solely on the sensations you were creating.

You shifted your weight slightly, your hips pressing into the firmness of her pelvis as you slid your fingers back into her, this time with more force and speed than before. Natasha moaned, the sound vibrating in her chest as you pushed in deep, filling her completely. Her walls tightened around your fingers, clenching with each thrust as you built up a rhythm that left her gasping, her hips rocking back against you. Her body was a mix of heat and tension, the friction of your skin against hers heightening every touch, every sound.

“More,” she whispered, the word slipping out like a plea. “Please… I need more.”

The raw need in her voice spurred you on, and you complied without hesitation. You could see how much she was aching for it, her body craving the kind of release that came not only from pleasure but from being overwhelmed, from being taken. You angled your fingers upwards, finding that perfect spot deep within her, and began to stroke it with every thrust, sending sharp jolts of ecstasy through her. Natasha’s breath hitched, a choked moan escaping her lips as her hips bucked, seeking more of the relentless pressure you provided.

“Is this what you needed?” you asked, your voice low and rough as you watched her come undone beneath you. “For me to fuck you like this?”

Her response came in the form of a breathless cry, her fingers digging into the sheets as her back arched off the mattress. Her body trembled with each deep thrust, the wetness coating your fingers making each movement slick and easy, allowing you to pound into her at a brutal pace. You could feel the way her walls gripped you tighter and tighter, the pressure building up inside her like a coiled spring ready to snap.

Then, in one swift motion, you turned her over onto her stomach, and Natasha let out a surprised gasp as you pressed her down against the bed. You kept her legs spread, your hand slipping between her thighs once more, but this time your other hand slid up her spine, following the curve of her body until you were gripping her shoulder. The position allowed you to thrust even deeper, the new angle making her whole body shudder as you buried your fingers inside her, the wet sounds of her arousal filling the room.

Natasha whimpered, burying her face into the sheets as you began to pound into her from behind, the pressure of each thrust making her toes curl. The sensation was overwhelming, her senses consumed by the way your fingers drove into her, the roughness of your touch giving her exactly what she’d begged for. She pushed back against you, her hips meeting every thrust with desperate need, as if she couldn’t get enough. The force of your movements rocked her body forward with each plunge, and you could feel the way her muscles tightened, the tension building in her core with each deep stroke.

As you drove her closer to the edge, you leaned down, your lips brushing against her ear. “You look so beautiful like this,” you murmured, your voice thick with desire. “Falling apart, just for me.”

Her body shivered at your words, her breath catching in her throat as a flush crept up her neck. You could feel the way she was spiralling, her control slipping away with every thrust, every stroke of your fingers inside her. And then, just as she teetered on the brink, you withdrew your fingers, only to replace them with your mouth. You pressed your tongue flat against her slit, licking a slow, deliberate stripe from her entrance to her clit, tasting the heady mix of her arousal on your lips.

The sound Natasha made was somewhere between a gasp and a sob, her body jerking in response to the sudden shift in sensation. You felt her thighs tremble as you dipped your tongue inside her, savouring the wet heat of her. Her taste was intoxicating, each flick of your tongue drawing out another moan from her as she pressed her hips back, desperate for more contact. You alternated between licking and sucking, your lips closing around her clit to draw it into your mouth before swirling your tongue over it, sending sparks of pleasure racing through her.

Natasha’s body tightened, her legs trembling as the pressure built to an unbearable peak, her orgasm finally crashing over her in a wave that left her gasping for air. Her moans were unrestrained, desperate, as her body shuddered beneath you, the intensity of her climax making her limbs quake. You didn’t let up, continuing to lap at her with slow, thorough strokes, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until she was completely spent.

As her breathing began to steady, you pulled back, allowing her a moment to catch her breath. Natasha's body lay limp against the bed, the flush still lingering on her cheeks, her hair a wild mess around her face. But even as the exhaustion settled in, you could see a renewed hunger in her eyes as she turned over onto her back again, reaching for you. Her hand slipped down to your thigh, tugging at you weakly as she whispered, “I… I want to taste you.”

You hesitated for a moment, but then obliged, positioning yourself over her. As you settled above her mouth, you felt a shiver of anticipation run through you. Her breath was hot against your core, the warmth of it making your skin prickle. 

Natasha's tongue darted out, hesitantly at first, tracing a slow path along the inner curve of your thigh before moving higher. Her touch was unsteady, as if she was still recovering from her own release, but you could feel the eagerness in every movement as she began to lick at you, her tongue sliding over your folds, tasting the arousal that had gathered there.

The first real contact sent a jolt through your body, a sharp intake of breath escaping you as Natasha pressed deeper, her tongue curling upwards to tease your entrance. The sensation was electric, the wet heat of her mouth surrounding you, and you couldn't help but let out a quiet moan as she began to suck gently, her lips closing around your sensitive clit. She licked with a kind of desperation, her mouth moving in frantic, needy strokes that made your hips twitch involuntarily. You could feel your own release building, the pleasure winding tighter and tighter with every flick of her tongue, every gentle suck.

But then her pace faltered, her movements growing slower and more languid as the exhaustion pulled at her. You felt her head slump slightly, her breathing uneven. Acting quickly, you grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled sharply, your voice a low growl as you demanded her attention. “Natasha,” you said, a dark chuckle slipping past your lips as you looked down at her. “You’re not done yet.”

Her eyes fluttered open, filled with a renewed determination. You stroked her jaw, feeling the wetness smeared across her cheeks and lips before guiding her back to your core. “Keep going,” you instructed, your voice firm and commanding as you bucked your hips forward slightly. “You’re doing so well. Show me just how good you can be.”

The words seemed to ignite something in her, and she dove back in with fervor, licking at you greedily. Her tongue moved in long, deep strokes, lapping up every drop as if she were trying to devour you entirely. You could feel your own body trembling with the effort to hold back, the pleasure cresting higher and higher with each pass of her tongue over your clit, each eager suck. Your fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her movements as you rode the waves of pleasure, the sensation building to an almost unbearable peak.

The tight coil in your belly finally snapped, sending you tumbling over the edge into a mind-numbing climax. Your thighs clamped around her head, your moans spilling out uncontrollably as the pleasure coursed through you in heavy, pulsating waves. Natasha’s mouth never left you, her tongue continuing to stroke you through every spasm, every shiver, milking every last bit of your release until you were left trembling and breathless above her.

Natasha’s body moulded perfectly into yours, her weight a soft, reassuring presence as she settled against your chest once more. The aftershocks of pleasure still lingered faintly in her, and you could feel the slight tremble in her muscles as she curled tighter into you, seeking comfort. Her breath was warm against your neck, her chest rising and falling slowly, as if her exhaustion was finally overtaking her.

You stroked her back, fingers moving with practised tenderness, tracing small, soothing circles over the silky fabric of her bralette. Her skin beneath was flushed from the intensity of what had just transpired, the heat from her body sinking into yours. You could feel the subtle tension still in her muscles, the kind that came from more than just physical exertion—it was the emotional weight she carried, the one that had been gradually cracking through her tough exterior tonight.

“You’re okay now,” you whispered into her hair, your voice barely more than a breath. The words were simple, but you knew how much she needed to hear them. “I’ve got you, Natasha.”

She made a sound in the back of her throat, a low hum of agreement or maybe relief, her arms tightening around your torso as if she didn’t want to let go. “You’re always good to me,” she murmured, her lips grazing your collarbone with each quiet word. There was a vulnerability in her voice that was rare, as though she was allowing herself to drop her walls completely, if only for this moment.

“And I always will be,” you reassured her, your voice soft but firm. “Whenever you need me, for anything… I’m here.”

The weight of those words seemed to hang between you, not just as a promise but as something deeper—an acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between you, shifting from mere friendship to something with far more gravity. Natasha tilted her head back slightly, her eyes heavy-lidded but searching yours, as though she was trying to understand why you were so steadfast, why you remained by her side even when she was at her most vulnerable.

Her lips curled into a small, almost fragile smile. “It goes both ways, you know,” she said, her voice low and still tinged with that post-orgasmic haze. “If you ever need… anything… anytime, I’m here for you too. I mean it. If you need to blow off steam, or… just… need someone to take care of you.” Her gaze flickered with an unusual openness, her green eyes catching the low light in the room. “I’ll always be there. For you.”

You felt your chest tighten slightly, a warmth blooming inside you at the thought of what she was offering, what she trusted you with.

“You’d be up for this… whenever?” you asked, a teasing edge to your voice, though your heart pounded a little faster at the idea.

Natasha nodded, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment, clearly struggling against the heavy pull of sleep. “Anytime,” she whispered, her words soft and sincere. “Even if it’s the middle of the day… middle of the night… if you need me, I’ll be there.”

Your lips quirked into a soft smile at her honesty, feeling the significance of her admission. Your hand found its way to her cheek, gently tilting her face back to you. She gazed up at you with exhaustion and trust written across her features, her breath slow and steady, her body pliant against yours.

"Good to know," you murmured, running your thumb along her jaw, feeling her relax into your touch. 

Natasha's eyelids fluttered shut as the weight of sleep began to pull her down, her body growing even heavier against yours. Just when you thought she’d drifted off entirely, she spoke again, her voice slurred with drowsiness. “Let’s… keep this just between us,” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “No one else… needs to know.”

You pressed your lips to the crown of her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. “Just us,” you promised, your voice low and soothing as you cradled her closer. “No one else has to know.”

Natasha gave a small, sleepy nod, her arms tightening around you as if clinging to the comfort you offered. “Good,” she whispered, her words barely audible as sleep finally claimed her. “Just… ours.”

As she drifted off, you continued to hold her, feeling the steady rhythm of her breath against you, your fingers still tracing soft patterns over her skin. You knew this arrangement, this shared need for each other, was more than just a temporary fix. It was a deeper understanding, an unspoken promise to be there in whatever ways the other needed—whether for comfort, for stress relief, or something more that neither of you was ready to name yet.

[yongvillage]

bruises | k.mg

street fighter bf!mingyu x afab!reader

established relationship, porn with some plot, minghao cameo cuz i love him, mentions of injury and blood, fighting, make up sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, one joke of mingyu being a masochist, one mention of death, creampie, oral (m receiving), skull fucking, daddy kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, recording, cum swallowing, cum eating, praise, muscle and size kink if you squint but that’s guaranteed in a mingyu fic 😭😭

summary: you and mingyu get into a fight over his bad habits, angst and smut ensues

wc: 2.7k

you’ve always hated the fights mingyu got himself into. he’d come home almost every week, with cuts and bruises littered all over his body. this time wasn’t any different, it was past midnight by this point, and you were curled up on the couch watching a random movie in an attempt to distract yourself from your growing worries. mingyu is usually home by this point.

a few more minutes go by and mingyu stumbles through the door with more injuries than usual. he sets his key down as you frantically walk towards him, noticing the way be avoids your eyes, “gyu.. your face, your bleeding everywhere.” he gives you a cold stare, his face battered and bloodied, and he brushes past you, going towards the bathroom where your med-kit usually was.

“yeah that’s the whole point y/n, it’s called street fighting for a reason.” you knew he wasn’t actually mad at you, just pent up anger from years of fighting, and especially tonight. scanning his whole body, the bright bathroom lighting allowing for you to see all his cuts and wounds more closely.

he slipped off his shirt, a huge bruise starting to form on the left side of his torso. “..you sure you didn’t break something?” your hand coming up to lightly stroke his ribs, mingyu’s anger blinding him from leaning into your warm touch.

“no, and why do you care so much anyway? it’s not like this is the first time.”

you tipped your head to the side, a ‘what’s that smell’ expression laid on your face, “what kind of question is that? i care because you’re my boyfriend, of course i’m gonna be worried.” your voice was nothing short of angry, your eyebrows almost meeting in the middle due to your frustration.

“you shouldn’t be.”

“uhh? yes i should, i’m tired of seeing you walk in here everyday with new cuts to clean. and your ribs.. mingyu you need to go see a doctor.”

“look y/n, i’ve been doing this for years—“

“well i think you should stop.”

it was deathly quiet, and mingyu’s hand holding a cotton pad paused in the air as he stared at you through the mirror. only the whirring sound of your ac being heard to combat the july heat. mingyu looked at you for a bit, chuckling to himself as his tongue poked through the side of his cheek, grabbing the gauze out of the med-kit and wrapping it around his knuckles.

“what’s so fucking funny?”

“oh nothing just that fact that you think you can tell me what to do.”

“yeah i’ll you what to do if it means not having you die in some alleyway.”

“please y/n, it never goes that far.”

“look at yourself! you basically limped in here, and i tried to help you but now you act like i’m a bitch for being worried about you?” you yelled.

mingyu finished up the gauze as he dropped everything and grabbed his shirt, walking towards the door. he left with a slam, not even caring to bid you goodbye, or kiss you and say ‘i love you’ like he always does.

the post-anger tears started streaming down your face. you knew he was probably gonna go crash at minghao’s, yet even with how frustrated you were, you still couldn’t help but worry and think about mingyu going to sleep untreated.

-

9:02 PM

(5) missed calls

gyu?

mingyu im sorry

are you okay? did minghao get you painkillers?

please dont fight again, at least take some time to let ur body rest :((

a full day had gone by. guilt stirred in mingyu’s stomach as he stared at his phone screen. he was the one who should be apologizing, not you.

he sighed, shutting off his phone and getting up. he knew he had to face you at some point.

“you leaving?”

mingyu hummed, shuffling into his shoes and heading out the door as minghao yelled out a goodbye. mingyu hopped in his car, letting the silence engulf him.

when mingyu walked into the apartment he noticed how dim it was, assuming you were asleep. he took his shoes off as quietly as possible, making his way to your guys’ shared bedroom. he heard a muffled voice, noting that the door was only half closed, peeking into the crack.

he saw you, adorned in one of his hoodies that was much too big for you, sleeves bunched up at your wrists and the hem coming down to your mid-thigh, naked legs on full display.

you paced around the room and it looked like you were on the phone with someone, the voice being hard to identify.

“did he say anything to you when he left?”

“nah, he just walked out.”

oh. it was minghao.

“shit, um, he didn’t even mention where he was going?”

mingyu heard the panic in your voice and the way your forefinger and thumb came to rub at your temples. he walked in as your eyes shot up to look at him, not hesitating to hang up on minghao, throwing your phone on the bed and running to jump into mingyu’s arms.

“oh my god mingyu!” you looked up at him and immediately started hitting him, “stupid! stupid! stupid! i hate you!” each hit enunciating your words, feeling like nothing but weak taps to mingyu. tears spilled out of your eyes, as mingyu only hugged you closer, hand coming up to pet your hair as the other cradled your head into his chest. he heard your muffled sniffing, his heart breaking at the stress he caused you.

“shhh i know, i know i’m stupid. i’m sorry baby.”

“you’re so mean! why didn’t you at least text me back? do you know how scared i was?” your voice broke, looking up at him with swollen eyes.

“i ..” mingyu paused, his hands coming down to hold your face, “i know i fucked up, i was too embarrassed to face you, afraid that you’d end things with me, which i would’ve probably deserved. i’m so, so sorry angel, i know no amount of apologizing will take away your worries, and i know i should’ve stayed and talked things out with you”

his thumb came to wipe away your falling tear, your hands hooking around his neck and pulling him down to kiss you. he instantly reciprocated, hands traveling down to wrap around your waist, pulling you close so that your bodies were flush against each other.

“i forgive you, i’m sorry for raising my voice at you.” you mumbled into his mouth, mingyu backing away to confusedly look at you.

“why are you apologizing? don’t say sorry baby, you should’ve slapped me as soon as i walked through that door.”

you giggled, looking down as you felt something press into your stomach, “you’re hard? really? got hard at the thought of me slapping you?” you teased.

“loooook..” mingyu looked away bashfully, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

“ew, you’re such a weirdo.” you said, slipping off mingyu’s hoodie to reveal a white tank top, your hard nipples poking through the thin fabric. you dropped down to your knees, fingers going straight to work untying your boyfriend’s sweatpants and pulling them down, along with his boxers, to his knees.

“oh, shit, hold on— you don’t have to do that baby.” mingyu hooked his hands underneath your armpits, attempting to pull you up being cut off by you stroking him.

“please, i want to.”

mingyu hesitated but was soon slapping his tip against your cheek, cooing at the way your head followed to try and get it in your mouth. finally he put it where you wanted, circling your tongue around the sensitive head. mingyu’s head lulled back, letting out a groan.

you took all of him into your mouth at once, his tip consistently hitting your uvula as you bobbed your head, twisting your hand on the base of his cock.

“fuck juuust like that baby, shit, h-have you been practicing on other guys or something?”

you laughed, only causing you to choke on his length, hitting his thigh as punishment for making you laugh while doing something that literally constricts your airflow.

“okay, okay, no more jokes, got it.” mingyu snickered, his gauzed hand grabbing your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

you came off of him with a pop, wiping off the drool dripping down your chin with the back of your hand, “gyu, u-use my mouth.”

mingyu smiled smugly, wordlessly grabbing ahold of your head with his other hand before shallowly thrusting into your wet mouth.

it wasn’t long before his length was ramming into your throat, breathless fuck’s and just like that’s leaving his cut lips. he was scared to even look down, afraid that if he saw your fucked out face he’d cum too quick.

you’re eyes looked up at him, tendrils of hair slipping past mingyu’s hold due to the sheer speed at which his hips slammed into your mouth.

“christ y/n, you look s’pretty like this, gon’ let daddy take a picture?”

you moaned at the label he placed on himself, nodding around his cock, eyes never leaving his sweat and scab covered face. mingyu pulled out his phone, angling the camera at your face. a red box with white numbers ascending appearing at the top of his screen.

“it’s a video baby, you don’t mind do you?” mingyu laughed when you attempted to hum a nuh-uh, only a string of muffled gags being heard. you were so wet, clit aching to be touched. you inched your hand down to touch yourself, drawing quick, fast circles.

“of course you don’t, so perfect, take my dick so well”

mingyu realized what it was you were doing to your lower half, “y’touching yourself? don’t worry daddy will fill y’up nice and good after this, j-jus’ let me cum in your mouth pretty.”

with a few final thrusts, and the erratic spasming of mingyu’s hips, you felt his hot cum travel down your throat, hollowing your cheeks as you slurped every last drop.

your knees ached as mingyu pulled you up, ending the video and hastily putting it in his hidden folder. he pulled you into a kiss, “did so good f’me baby, you always know how to spoil me.” he spoke into your mouth, tasting his own release.

“w-wanna ride you,” you huffed out, breathless. mingyu grinned, the right side of his face being the only indication of it, while the left was so mangled you couldn’t tell what expression he was even making. whoever he fought got him good.

“you sure? don’t tire yourself doll.”

“i’m sure!” you said grabbing mingyu’s hand, dragging him to the bed.

“whatever you say cutie,” mingyu let out a strangled breath while lowering himself down onto the bed, his torso still extremely sore, and his head perched up against the headboard. you quickly pulled down your shorts and panties as you swung your leg over his thighs, leaning down to kiss him.

you hand raked over his chest and chiseled abs, fingers dipping into each and every crevice as mingyu’s tongue explored your mouth. you pulled back and grabbed a hold of his flushed cock, rubbing it along your folds as your slick dripped down his length, a whimper leaving your lips.

“shit.” he hissed, staring intently as you paused your ministrations to line yourself up, slowly sinking down. you stared down at where you were taking him in, brushing the hair out of your face to get a better look. mingyu’s mouth fell agape, “you’re so fucking tight,” watching as a bulge slowly formed just below your belly button. even after the countless times you and mingyu had had sex, he was always just so big, your tiny pussy barely taking him in each time.

you finally looked up, mingyu’s eyes meeting your own. “jus’ gimme a sec gyu, you’re s-so big,” you said breathlessly.

mingyu smirked cockily, “take your time gorgeous.” his hands soothingly rubbing you’re plush thighs.

you bounced slowly, feeling each vein of his cock drag against your walls, tiny gasps leaving your lips. mingyu let you control the pace for a bit, allowing for you to adjust to his size. but he was getting impatient, his hands coming down to grip the sides of your hips, his four digits digging themselves into your ass before lifting you up and slamming you back down, the movement knocking the wind of you, making your jaw go slack.

“fuck!” your head hung low, hands coming up to grip his broad, muscly shoulders for support, watching out for any bruises.

“that’s it baby, just hold onto daddy and let him make y’feel good.”

mingyu’s pace was animalistic, his hold on you hard enough to leave an imprint. you were shocked as to how he had this much energy considering what his body had endured a night ago.

tears welled up in your eyes, feeling his tip kiss your cervix with each thrust. the curve of his cock aligning just right with your g-spot. “oh my fff-fucking god! mingyu please, ha-harder!”

you didn’t even know if it was possible to go harder, but mingyu managed to slam you down with even more force then before. a bead of sweat ran down his tan neck, his bangs sticking to his forehead as he stared up at you with hooded eye. his hips thrust upwards to meet you halfway, causing you to let out mangled gasps and moans. you were sure he was puncturing your lungs by this point. no inch of your pussy was left unexplored, squishy pink walls molded perfectly to hug his cock.

“jus’ like that gorgeous, your pussy was made f’me.”

“s-soo deep daddy, feel you in my tummy..” you whined out as you saw mingyu grin, canines on display, his hand coming up to grab yours, placing your hand on the bulge on your stomach, almost cumming right there when you felt the bump.

“fuck, you jus’ got so tight, y-you like when daddy pokes your tummy like that?”

you nodded frantically, tears flowing down your hot, pink cheeks, “i-i’m gon—na cum, g-gonna cum!” you struggled to get the words out, mingyu understanding you nonetheless.

“cum with me baby, gon’ let daddy cum in you?”

“fuck, yes d-daddy, want you to fill me up so bad, p-put a .. a baby in me,” mingyu loved how dirty your mouth got every time you were close to coming. his right hand pressed onto the small of your back, causing you to arch into him. his mouth was at perfect level with your nipples, taking your tit into his mouth and circling the hard nub with his tongue.

the pleasure was all too much, and with a few more hard thrusts your hole was spasming around his thick base, clenching and unclenching, mingyu’s mouth detaching from your breast as he looked up at you, his eyes shutting tightly as hot cum shot into your pussy.

“shiiiit, you’re milking me baby.” mingyu said, still grinding your hips onto him as he rode out both of your orgasms.

you reluctantly lifted yourself off of him, feeling some of mingyu’s cum drip down your thigh, scooping it with your index and middle finger and licking it off as you cuddled into his side, his arm laid across your shoulder.

mingyu watched as you cleaned him off your fingers, smoothing your disheveled hair. “such a good girl, not letting any of daddy’s cum go to waste.” he said as he booped your nose.

you giggled, “you okay though, gyu? d-does it hurt anywhere?” you asked, still breathless from your fresh orgasm.

“don’t worry about me doll, are you feeling okay? did i go too hard?”

“mm-hm, just a lil’ sore,” you snuggled closer.

“a shower should help ease y’up,” mingyu swung his feet over the bed, getting up as he reached his hand out, “think you can walk?”

“nooo i need my big, strong boyfriend to help carry me,” you joked, climbing into mingyu’s arms as he threw you over his shoulder, landing a playful slap on your ass.

“asshole! i’m not helping you replace your bandages.” mingyu could hear the pout in your voice, laughing as he made his way to the bathroom.

@yongvillage | thank you for reading!

[endo-bunny]

Sit Down Now and Rest

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Description: You had anxiety and depression, and Tony and Bruce were more than happy with getting you anxiety meds the moment that you asked. When you stop taking your meds, your mental health plummets and spirals as well as your physical health, and everyone notices. Don't worry though, they're there for you.

Pairing: (Platonic) Avengers x Teen!Reader

Type: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Depression, anxiety, sickness, fainting, dizziness, taking meds(both medicated and just vitamins/iron supplements), dehydration, insomnia, depressive and hurtful thoughts, reader doesn't talk very much in this, nicknames(Kiddo, Kid, Hun)

Word Count: 1,627

Note: I may or may not have written this with too much of myself being present… But it's fine! I also wrote this at like 2 in the morning so it's kinda rough but I just needed to get this typed out so here ya go! Also, the characters might be kinda ooc because I haven't watched any marvel movies in a little while but I've been hyper focused on fics with them lately so yea. And I am working on my tlou and tech fics, it's just hard to find the motivation to write them, but don't worry, I'm working on em.

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You were quick to notice that you stopped taking your meds. You knew that they helped you, but you couldn't get yourself to start the habit of taking them again. You wanted to, most definitely, but you couldn't. Every day was the same. Wake up, look at your meds, contemplate taking them, saying you'll take them later, go train, eat, and then not take them.

You also stopped taking them at night too. You had even set alarms so that you'd remember to take them, but it didn't help at all. Natasha was the first to notice that something was up, being the closest one with you. When she realized that something wasn't quite right, she made sure to keep a close eye on you. She was quick to pick up how dizzy you looked when you'd get up, sometimes not even being able to stay standing before you crumbled back onto the couch. You'd always play it off as if you just lost your footing but she and everyone else knew that that wasn't the case.

One morning you had gotten up much later than you had recently been getting up. When you checked the time, it was around two in the afternoon. You got up and went to the kitchen, feeling extremely hungry after forgetting, and also just not wanting dinner the night prior. When you arrived in the kitchen, Tony was there. He had kind of taken up the father role in your life.

The moment he saw that you had finally arose, he was quick to make a snarky comment in good fun, “Ah! The beast has finally awoken from their slumber, now off they go to find their beauty.”

You only roll your eyes, ignoring him. You felt exhausted, even though you got close to ten hours of sleep seeing as you fell asleep around 4 in the morning. You couldn't find anything easy to fix or that looked appetizing in the fridge or pantry so you just opted for a bottle of water that you would only take a sip or two of then leave with your other five almost full water bottles on your nightstand.

Before you could go back to the confines of your room, Tony had to ask you a question, “ Hey kiddo, did you take your meds?”

The question caught you off guard, not expecting him to ask seeing as he hasn't asked in a real long time.

“Oh yea! I, um, took them earlier but fell back asleep. Yea, that's what I did!”

You try to make it seem like you weren't lying through your teeth, but weren't very successful because of how exhausted you were. However, before Tony could confront you, you book it to your room. You hide there for the rest of the day, not coming out for Dinner. Steve had come by to tell you that dinner was ready but you told him that you weren't very hungry as you just kept your

on the book that you had your nose in. You kept your light on all night, not feeling tired.

The next morning, Nat knocked on your door around eight, coming to get you so that you could train with her. When she opened your door, she saw you laying on your back staring up at the ceiling. You looked exhausted and had dark circles under your eyes. When Bat opened the door, you flung up in surprise. You hadn't heard her knocking so you weren't expecting for the door to randomly open. You couldn't tell who it was at first because your vision went fuzzy black as your body tried to accommodate the sudden movement that you caused. Nat waited for you to acknowledge her.

When you did after a couple seconds, you looked over at the time, confused. It had just been two the last time you looked at the clock. How could it be eight all of the sudden? You were brought out of your thoughts by Natasha trying to talk to you. You zoned back in, giving her a questioning look.

“I said, are you ok? You look exhausted Hun. I came by to get ya to come train but it looks like you need to rest for a couple days.”

“Oh! No, I'm fine. Just give me a couple minutes to get ready and I'll be down and we can get to work in no time!”

She gave you a skeptical look but nodded, closing your door behind her.

When you got down to the training room, Bucky and Steve were there with Natasha. They smiled upon seeing you walk in. However, Bucky and Steve's bright smiles dropped upon looking at your figure. You were slouched, tired eyes not fully open and your eye bags were extremely dark.

Bucky was the first to point it out, “Hey Kid, you ok? You aren't looking too good.”

You only shrugged, your body aching and your throat feeling scratchy and sore for some reason.

As you're sparring with Natasha, you continuously have to stop the match because you go into coughing fits. As finish with your last coughing fit you go back to Natasha, but she's packing her stuff up.

“Wait, where are you going?” You're voice comes rather harsh and rude as you ask the red head.

“I think you should rest for the rest of the day Hun. I'll come check on you in a little while. But go take your meds and also some cough syrup and eat something.”

You didn't say anything as you grabbed your stuff and walked back to your room. This was stupid. It was just a little cold. You can still fight. You need to train. Deep down though you knew you needed to listen to her and do as she said. In the end, you don't. You go back to your room, take a sip or two of water, get a small snack and then sit down in the living room with a book.

You try to read it, but you can't stay focused for long enough to. Your mind is spiraling and racing. You kept replaying how training went. You were so pathetic. And rude. How could you be so rude? Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You slam the book down onto the sofa, huffing.

You hadn't noticed that some of the others had joined you in the living room. They look up at you, surprised. They weren't used to seeing you like this. You tried to get up quickly, wanting to get away from this embarrassing situation.

The moment you get up, the world goes black, buzzing and ringing is the only thing you can hear as you collapse. You feel something picking you up and setting you down on the couch. You blink your eyes a couple times, slowly feeling sensation being restored in your body. You look around you and see that Bruce is coming over with a damp cloth and water. Nat has your head resting in her lap and Tony has your hand in his. They all look worried as they stare down at you. You hear gasped as Steve and Bucky walk in.

Questions are being thrown at you, too fast for you to comprehend. You instinctively put your hands on your ears, feeling overwhelmed. They all quiet down upon seeing this. Tony is the one to ask the questions from then on.

“Hey, it's ok. We're sorry, didn't mean to overwhelm ya like that. Can ya sit up?”

You nodded, feeling embarrassed now. Tony nodded and Nat helped you sit up, allowing you to lean against her.

“Ok, drink some water, you're ok,” Tony hands you the water that Bruce had brought over as Bruce is wiping your face with the cold damp cloth.

“Ya feeling better?”

“Ya, I'm fine.”

“Have you been taking your meds, kid?”Tony doesn't hold back, knowing what it looks like when you don't take the meds that have been helping you produce what your body needs.

You sheepishly look down at your hands that are fidgeting in your lap. You inhale sharply before shaking your head no.

They all sigh, Natasha being the one to talk this time, “Why haven't you been taking your meds, Hun?”

“I-I just don't want to… I don't like the feeling.”

They looked at each other, wondering what to say. As they look at each other, you go to stand up, but they make sure that you don't get up.

“Sit down now and rest,” Bucky's voice comes from behind you, his hands still on your shoulders.

“I'm sorry…” Your voice comes out in a whisper.

“You're forgiven kiddo, but ya gotta start taking your meds again.” Steve comes over and sits on the other side of you as he speaks.

“I know.”

“How bout I take my medication with ya? God knows that I haven't been taking it as much as I should be,” Tony chuckles as he tries to negotiate with you.

You didn't know if it would actually help you but you were open to the idea.

“Good, drink some more water. Now what do you want to watch? Hm? TV's all yours,” Tony stood up, giving you the TV remote as everyone decided to sit down on the couch.

You picked your comfort movie as you snuggled up with Steve and Nat. Tony had gotten you some actual food, and by the time the movie was over, you had drank all the water, ate all the food, fell asleep, and almost everyone else had fallen asleep as well. You felt safe with the people that cared about you all around you. You knew that this would be a journey, but you also knew that you weren't alone.

-~-~-~-~-~-~

Tag list: @fakegingerrights @macchiato-dreaming22 @silnebula

[dystopyx-blog]

So this is a thought I had after the unmedicated post, but what if ya had chronic pain? Like my good days are constant emergency levels for someone else, and on the bad days I just don't function or function by acting really bitchy. Like, imagine the sweet or chill prefect suddenly being a complete asshole then someone (probably Rook) reveals it's because their meds completely left their system.

Yes!! This kinda works with the post that inspired the unmedicated fic, which you can check out here.

I raise you this though: imagine the yandere bois tm finding out the sweet/kind/chill/patient ramshackle suffers so much all the time.

I can imagine Floyd not even fully squeezing you and you yelp out in pain just from that. You play it off as best as you can, but Jade's curiosity is piqued.

You probably tell your freshman besties first, but everyone will quickly learn from there. I mean, Sebek will absolutely tell Malleus and Epel will end up telling Vil.

The information gets to Jade and Floyd, who take it to Azul.

Deuce ends up spilling it to Riddle one time while trying to defend you. Ace will then blab to you about how Deuce messed up.

Its a whole mess

But now everyone knows about your chronic pain, and all of a sudden everyone's treating you like you're glass.

Even the ones you wouldn't imagine!! Like you'd think Leona would be Mr. Tough Love "Go walk it off." But no. He's still an asshole about the whole thing, but he's a condescending asshole, always telling you you can't do shit by yourself so let him handle it. Or at least let Ruggie handle it. He doesn't understand why you try so fucking hard, you have a great excuse to just relax. So he forces you to.

Everyone is kind of like this, with varying degrees of affection and subtleties.

Riddle is also very rood about it, yelling at you to just stand still.

Azul is more subtle, always creating illusions of choice, making you think you have options, when you don't. Tricking you into taking easier paths while you think you're roughing it.

Jamil basically treats you like he does Kailm. Which, if you're like me, makes you feel bad. But even just the fact you feel bad reminds him why he prefers you over Kalim 1009000%. He wishes you'd stop fussing and let him take care of you.

Vil is also fairly patronizing while he dotes on you. He treats you like a doll, dressing you up and styling you, because with your fragile little bones this is kinda the best thing for you. And he also really doesn't understand why you won't just sit down and let him love you.

If you're sensing a pattern, you are correct. No one fucking understands why you won't just fucking relax and let everyone take care of everything for you.

Idia sees your chronic pain as the PERFECT excuse to never have to go somewhere in person and yet??? You keep going out in person??? Bro, just stay with him, then you BOTH have an excuse to just fucking chill in his room while a floating iPad handles all your school problems.

Finally, Malleus. Awwww, you're so cute, trying so hard. But also he feels so hurt everytime you try to do something without him. To him, your chronic pain is the invitation for him. It's your very body crying out to him for comfort. And Malleus never turns down an invitation.

[facefullofsadness]

HII SORRY IDK IF REQS R ON OR OFF BUT CAN I REQ GUITARIST DOM NEIGHBOUR YUNJIN X NERD SUB Y/N (FEM)

first of all, yes reqs are open dw. second, ANON IM OBSESSED WITH THIS CONCEPT GRRR FOAMING AT THE MOUTH

content - dom guitarist neighbor!yunjin x nerd sub!y/n (written like "studious nerd" not "loser nerd" like in the sakura fic), smut (rough sex, fingering, choking, degradation, mommy kink, edging)

wc - 1652

a/n - ffos stop writing rockstar!yunjin smut challenge (difficulty: impossible). and when I do a rockstar!au series w a bunch of diff idols just fucking y/n brainless, then what? bc look at the material, rockstar winter, giselle, hanni, yunjin, wendy, phew, I'm dizzy.

all you want to do is study or relax, but yunjin has her own agenda.

I imagine you're some kind of stem or pre-med major where ur head is always buried in books, trying to study and memorize and re-memorize and review all this fucking material. ur always preoccupied with your studies that when u finally get that moment to rest, you really bask in the peace of silence after a long day.

but of course, you can never have good things. bc as soon as you lay back on your couch, ur favorite snack next to you and putting your comfort show on the tv, you hear music blasting from your neighbor. the melody u conclude being an arctic monkeys song (taste jennifer! listen to do I wanna know for immersion :)) which you would enjoy on any other day, if not for the fact that you were trying to relax and NOT feel the vibrations of the electric guitar from next door. that being said, this neighbor had been practicing music EVERY DAY for the past few weeks.

it drove u insane. you have never tried to confront ur neighbor bc you hoped they would stop on their own (maybe due to social anxiety too but that's neither here nor there), but after WEEKS of this perpetual migraine, you had no choice.

building up the courage to walk over to their door and proceeding to practically pound on it, music louder now that you were outside their apartment. you were fully prepared to go ape-shit on the menace that had been tormenting your serenity for so long. but you didn't prepare for them to be hot?!

the music stopping after 3 rounds of your aggressive knocking and finally a red-haired sexy ass woman swung open the door fully, guitar slung on her back and tatted arms crossed, wearing black tattered clothes, the woman towering over you as she leaned forward, looking up at her eyebrow and septum piercings.

you gulped nervously, not expecting such a sight, the ginger raising an eyebrow at you curiously.

"what do you want?" she'd ask annoyedly.

her tone pissed you off and snapped u out of your trance, "for you to lower your music or stop playing."

bold, she thought.

"why should I?" the woman leaned against her door frame, a smirk tugging at her lips.

you huff out frustratingly, "because you've been blasting your music for the past few weeks and I'm sick and tired of it, it gives me a headache and you have no respect."

she scoffs, "aw, is my princess missing out on her beauty sleep?"

you close ur eyes and sigh, regaining urself so you wouldn't blow up, then looking up at the girl's eyes, "can you PLEASE lower the music at least?"

the ginger uncrosses her arms and leans forward again, one hand on the door frame and another gesturing at you, "do I get anything in return for being such a good girl for you?"

u feel chills go down your spine at her words and your cheeks heat up. the sound of her deep chuckle makes you look away.

"fuck you're cute, what's your name?" she tilts her head to the side.

"y-y/n."

"I've never seen you around y/n. you're telling me I've been living next to an absolute babe for the past few months and I didn't know? can't be having that."

your eyes dart anywhere else before you clear your throat, "anyway, thank you, I'll get going now."

"ah, ah, ah, not so fast y/n-ie. I haven't even told you my name yet!" you feel a hand snatch your wrist and pull you back, your body falling into hers.

you look up at the red-haired neighbor, "it's yunjin, jennifer to friends, but you can moan mommy to me."

you scream internally and feel your heartbeat racing. it'd be so fucking cringe to hear it if anyone else said it, but something about the way jen held you and looked at you like her next meal made your lower stomach feel on fire.

"do you wanna know how talented guitarists are with their fingers?" her naughty half-lidded gaze trailed the features of your face, looking so innocent to her, with your large black framed glasses and wide eyes.

"you're disgusting and a pervert miss jennifer," you say, trying to cover up your attraction to her and the situation (failing btw).

you try to pull away from her grasp, her strong hands gripping your arms tighter and holding you close, her face coming closer to yours, "oh please, don't lie and tell me you don't wanna fuck me."

"you really don't have any respect do you?"

"and where was your respect? came pounding on my door, demanding whatever bullshit you just said, didn't even ask me for my name miss neighbor!" a cocky smile spreading on yunjin's face.

"well I apologize but it should be common sense to not blast your music for the entire 5th floor to hear," you roll your eyes, crossing your arms in her hold.

"you look even better when you're angry, maybe I should piss you off some more."

god she pissed you off so much, it's unfortunate the girl was really fucking hot.

"I'm not pissed," you lied.

"no? what are you then? horny?" the audacity really.

you roll your eyes, "can I go?"

jen gives you an annoyingly smug expression and shakes her head left to right before pulling you into her place, shutting the door behind you, and pinning you to it.

"you may not be horny, which I don't believe, but I am now."

her grip leaves your arms and trails your sides. you let out a heavy sigh but try to hold your composure.

"hm? you're not pushing me away? does that mean I'm right?"

she chuckles lowly next to your ear, her greedy hands slipping under your sweatshirt and rubbing the skin.

"sh-shut up," you mumble, turning your head away from her face in your neck, her mouth leaving hot breaths and wet kisses across it.

her calloused fingertips tap against your waist and travel higher, "no bra? was your intention to get fucked so I could change my mind?"

she's so vulgar, like it gives you the ick, but she feels so good, you ignore the bullshit spilling from her lips.

she feels up your stomach and places each hand on your boobs, kneading them eagerly and breathing hard on your neck. you bite your lip to prevent any noise from escaping your mouth. you knew it was wrong, you knew it was dirty, but you knew it felt too good to wanna stop.

"c'mon princess, let it out for me," yunjin would whisper against your skin, her thumbs circling your hard nipples.

your hands clutch her bare shoulders as you feel her smile against your jaw. you struggle hard to hold back a whine as she pushes you into the door using her warm body.

"I have nothing to let out for you," lying again.

"I guess I just have to tear it out from you then," the guitarist says before taking her hands out from under your sweatshirt and grabbing you by the thighs, lifting you up and carrying you to her room.

your body falls against the plush mattress and you watch as the woman slings her guitar off her shoulders, crawling on the bed towards you.

"you may be able to resist how good it feels now, but not after I have my way with you... I won't be the one making so much noise after all."

oh and she truly kept her word.

yunjin's right hand fingers were plunged deep inside your pussy, thrusting in and out at unfathomable speed, while her left hand fingers were in your mouth, shoving them down your throat and making you gag.

your shorts and panties were somewhere lost in her room and if your vision wasn't blurred with tears, you swear your clothes hang from one of the guitars she had displayed on the wall. you sat with your legs wide open on jen's lap, your back against the headboard for stability, tongue sticking out so her fingers can reach deeper into your mouth.

all you could make out were the choking noises coming from your throat and muffled moaning conjoined with it. your cunt was on fire due to the pace at which her digits were ramming into you. your eyes were rolled back and your thighs trembled.

"you sick fuck, you're really enjoying this you know? I know you are, I know you love how rough I'm treating you. who would've known some lowly nerd like you would be into such freaky shit."

she'd pull the fingers in your throat out which caused you to release a deep groan, but return her hand to your neck, squeezing and pinning you against the headboard.

"m-mommy..." you'd desperately whimper out.

a sick chuckle leaves her throat hearing you call her the title she mentioned earlier.

"you may be a whore but you're good at following directions, aren't you princess?" she sinisterly smiles at your fucked out expression, pulling her fingers all the way out to slam them in again, using four digits to plunge into your gushing cunt.

your vision blurs completely as you feel your high coming quick. your back arches off of the wall and your body melts into yunjin's hold.

"cumming already? so sensitive, I don't wanna end it yet," she immediately retracts her hand from your pulsing core.

you whine desperately at the loss of contact and jennifer's grip on your neck tightens.

"listen here little slut, I barely even started. you're going to hold out until I have my way with you, got it?"

let's just say you're not the neighbor making the noise complaints in the next few hours (days? weeks? yunjin realllyyyy liked you).

a/n - guitarists' finger dexterity is no joke (I play guitar so someone plsss hmu :.) aka huh yunjin hit my line im begging you)

[awkward-walking-potato]

Hello, I am about a month out of ankle surgery, no cast, no boot, I can proceed with normal activities but sometimes my ankle just throbs with pain. May I request Logan helping a reader with day to day activities that they can’t do the same anymore and helping them with their pain? Like reader is stubborn and upset they can’t do things quite normally yet, they have to work their way to that point and have to be kind to their body.

I hope you get better soon and I hope this can help, I think we all need a wolverine to look after us.

The mission had been straightforward, at least on paper—get in, retrieve the intel, and get out. But things never went quite as planned, especially not with Logan. He was the kind of man who expected the unexpected, and he always came out on top. You, on the other hand, were still learning that sometimes things went sideways, no matter how careful you were.

The night had been long, the tension between you and Logan thick as you navigated through the enemy base. Everything had gone smoothly until it hadn’t. The explosion caught both of you off guard—a misstep, a trip wire you didn’t see in time. The blast sent you flying, and you landed hard, the impact shooting pain up your leg. Logan was on you in seconds, his enhanced senses already picking up the injury before you could even register it fully.

“Damn it, stay down,” Logan growled, his voice rough as he knelt beside you. He took in the sight of your twisted ankle, the way it was already swelling. “You’ve broken your ankle.”

You bit back a groan, trying to push yourself up, but the pain was overwhelming, making your vision swim. “I’m fine,” you lied, stubborn as ever. “We need to keep moving.”

Logan’s grip on your shoulder tightened, forcing you to stay down. “You’re not goin’ anywhere on that ankle. We need to get you outta here, now.”

You wanted to argue, to insist that you could still make it through the mission, but the pain in your ankle was making it hard to think, let alone move. And Logan’s expression left no room for debate. He was in full protective mode, and there was no way you were getting past him.

Reluctantly, you nodded, letting Logan take charge. He scooped you up into his arms without a word, cradling you against his chest as he made his way out of the enemy base. You hated feeling like dead weight, hated that you couldn’t do anything but hold on as Logan carried you to safety. But there was no denying that the pain in your ankle was unbearable, and every movement sent sharp jolts of agony up your leg.

By the time you made it back to the Blackbird, the pain had dulled to a throbbing ache, but it was clear that your ankle was in bad shape. Logan had already radioed ahead to the mansion, and as soon as you landed, you were whisked away to the med bay.

The next few hours were a blur of painkillers and X-rays, the doctor’s voice a steady drone as he explained the extent of your injury. A clean break, but it would require surgery to set the bone properly. You tried to focus, but all you could think about was how useless you felt, how you’d failed the mission and now you were laid up with a broken ankle.

The surgery went smoothly, or so they told you. When you finally woke up, your leg was wrapped in a cast, your ankle immobilized to give the bone time to heal. The doctor gave you a rundown of the recovery process, but all you heard was how long it would be before you could get back to work—weeks, maybe months before you were back to full strength.

The first few days were rough. You were stubborn, refusing to admit how much pain you were in, but Logan saw right through you. He was always there, a silent, gruff presence that kept you grounded. He helped you with everything—getting out of bed, moving around the mansion, even the simplest tasks like getting dressed. It was frustrating, humiliating even, to need so much help, and your stubbornness only made it worse.

“Stop fightin’ me on this,” Logan said one evening, after he caught you trying to hobble to the kitchen on your own. “You need to rest. You’re only gonna make it worse if you keep pushin’ yourself.”

You glared at him, hating how weak and helpless you felt. “I can’t just sit around and do nothing,” you snapped. “I need to be out there, helping.”

Logan crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “You need to heal. That’s your job right now. You ain’t doin’ anyone any favors by pushin’ yourself before you’re ready.”

His words stung, mostly because you knew he was right. But it didn’t make it any easier to accept. You were used to being strong, to handling whatever was thrown at you. Now, you could barely walk on your own, and it felt like your independence had been ripped away.

Logan seemed to sense the turmoil you were going through, because he softened, his voice losing some of its usual gruffness. “I get it. Bein’ laid up like this sucks. But you’re only gonna get better if you take care of yourself.”

You looked away, the frustration bubbling up again. “I just… I hate feeling like this. Like I can’t do anything.”

Logan sighed, stepping closer. “You’re not gonna be like this forever. But you gotta give your body time to heal. And that means takin’ it easy, even when it pisses you off.”

You were quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. He was right, of course, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. Still, you knew you had to be kinder to yourself, to your body. Pushing through the pain wasn’t going to help you heal any faster.

“I’m trying,” you said finally, your voice small. “It’s just… hard.”

Logan nodded, his expression softening even more. “I know it is. But you’re tough. You’ll get through this.”

His words were a comfort, a reminder that you weren’t alone in this. Logan was there, and he wasn’t going to let you push yourself too hard. It was a small reassurance, but it made all the difference.

The days passed slowly, each one a test of your patience. Logan was always there, whether you wanted him to be or not, helping you with the things you couldn’t do on your own. He was patient, more patient than you expected, and he never once made you feel like a burden.

One evening, after another frustrating attempt to do something on your own, you finally broke down. The pain, the frustration, the sense of helplessness—it all came crashing down, and you found yourself in tears, sitting on the edge of your bed with your casted leg stretched out in front of you.

Logan was there in an instant, kneeling in front of you with a concerned look on his face. “Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he murmured, his rough voice soothing. “You’re doin’ fine. You’re gonna get through this.”

You shook your head, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “I just… I hate this, Logan. I hate not being able to do anything.”

He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “You’re doin’ more than you think. You’re lettin’ yourself heal. That’s the most important thing right now.”

His words broke through the frustration, and you nodded, squeezing his hand. “I just feel so… useless.”

Logan shook his head, his grip on your hand firm but comforting. “You’re not useless. You’re strong. Stronger than you know. You just need to give yourself time.”

You took a shaky breath, the tears slowly subsiding as you leaned into his touch. “I’m trying,” you said again, this time with a little more conviction.

Logan gave you a small, encouraging smile. “That’s all anyone can ask for.”

The days turned into weeks, and slowly, you started to see progress. The pain became more manageable, the swelling in your ankle reduced, and with Logan’s help, you began to regain some of your independence. It wasn’t easy—there were days when the frustration still got the better of you, but Logan was always there, a steady presence that kept you grounded.

As your strength returned, so did your confidence. The exercises the doctor had given you started to pay off, and soon you were able to move around more easily, even if you still needed crutches. Logan was there every step of the way, helping you when you needed it, but also giving you the space to do things on your own when you were ready.

One evening, as you sat together in the mansion’s living room, you looked over at Logan, feeling a swell of gratitude for everything he’d done for you. “Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice sincere. “For everything.”

Logan glanced at you, his expression softening. “Ain’t no need to thank me. I was just doin’ what needed to be done.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the fireplace crackling nearby. “Still, I appreciate it. I couldn’t have gotten through this without you.”

Logan’s eyes softened, and he gave you a small nod. “You’re stronger than you think, kid. But I’m glad I could help.”

You leaned back against the couch, feeling a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long time. The road to recovery was still ahead, but with Logan by your side, you knew you could face whatever challenges came your way.

And for the first time since the injury, you truly believed that you’d come out the other side stronger, not just in body, but in spirit too.

[mango-writes-savvy]

Gentle Jake Seresin

Prompt from @dumplingsjinson and this post. Hope you enjoy <3

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x f!reader

While in California you had seen a lot of Top Gun candidates come through, but none stuck out as much as Jake Seresin. Jake was cocky, but at least he could back it up- most times

While he and his team were on a mission, you were stationed on the same aircraft carrier as a medic. You were always hopeful to not see the soldiers in your wing, but enjoyed spending time with Jake. He was rough around the edges but he was kind to you. He always lit up when he saw it was you who would be taking care of him.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite medic! How you doin’ Chaos?” he smiled as he strutted into the med bay.

“Hi, Hangman, what can I do for you today?” you responded while filling out paperwork and checking the schedule to see if there was something ordered by the higher-ups. 

“I can’t just say hi?”

“Well, normally you want something so, what do you need? I have a lot of work to get done before y’all leave tonight,” you responded after not finding anything in the computer. 

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Well, Phoenix asked me to swing by and see if you had any more of that tape. She said it didn’t hurt to take off like the stuff they gave her on land.”

You nodded, “Yeah, definitely,” you started walking towards the cabinet it was in then paused, “Jake. This is the third time you’ve been in here today, are you sure there isn’t anything else I can grab or do for you?” You turned and looked at him carefully. 

“Wanna go on a date? With me. When we get back to Miramar,” he leaned against the wall across from you casually, but you could tell he was nervous with how he was trying to keep his hands busy. 

You smiled as your cheeks heated from the blood rush. You grabbed a few rolls of tape from the cabinet and walked back towards him. “When you get back tonight, I’ll let you know where to pick me up.”

He grinned as he walked towards the doorway, he spun around to face you and said,” See you when I get back, Chaos,” and gave you one of his signature winks. 

You playfully rolled your eyes at him and shooed him off while you got ready for their mission tonight just in case anything went south- getting out extra bandages, pain relief and suture kits. 

Jake and his team were flying out an hour before supper and were scheduled to be back by midnight. 

It was getting close to midnight and you were starting to get bored waiting in the mess hall, so you decided to start on inventory in the med bay. While walking down the hall, your mind started to wander, wondering where Jake would take you on this date. 

You felt a smack then a sharp pain in your head. 

“Ow! What the fuck!” You brought your hand to your forehead and when you pulled it away there was blood. While you were daydreaming you missed the shorter doorway and ran head-first into it. “This is why you’re a medic,” you muttered to yourself as you ducked under the doorway and made it to the medic bay. 

You managed to get the bleeding stopped and started putting butterfly bandages on the cut with the mirror hanging on the wall. 

“Hey- what happened?��� Jake rushed over to you and turned your head so he could get a better look at the cut. 

“Hey, how did it go? And I’m fine, just bumped my head into a doorframe,” You waved him off and finished putting on the bandages and cleaning up the area. 

“I can’t leave you alone for one second without you hurting yourself, can I?” Jake followed after you, never being far from your side. 

“I mean, I’m fine so it’s fine—“ 

“No it’s not okay! Not when I feel like I’m going to go batshit fucking crazy, thinking you’ve hurt yourself.”

“Jake, I promise, I’m okay,” You grabbed his hands to help him calm down by rubbing your thumbs across the back of his hands, “I love that you care about me, but one doorframe isn’t going to take me out.”

He sighed and kissed your forehead gently. "Fine, but I'm still gonna worry about you."

[in1-nutshell]

Rodimus Prime dating buddy who is taller than him but is pretty shy and quiet? Basically like a precious cinnamon roll.

Also Rodimus is the little spoon when it comes to hugging

OH, and Rodimus always gets flustered when Buddy compliments him because it’s always sweet.

Oooh! Rodimus with another Tall Bot! Tried to mix things up a bit so no one gets confused.

Hope you enjoy!

Rodimus dating Tall Bot Buddy who's shy

SFW, Platonic, Romantic, Cybertronian reader

MTMTE

Rodimus, being the ship’s captain, wanted to get to know some of his crew. Sure, he knew that some of the crew members were here for a short time, but there was never any harm in getting to know one another. His optics found their way to Buddy a few times during his ‘Til all are One’ speeches.

It wasn’t hard to find them either.

Buddy being one of the tallest bots on the ship stood out like a sore thumb amongst their smaller friends.

“Hey, Mags!”--Rodimus

“Don’t call me that.”--Magnus

“So, who’s the tall bot over by Cyclonus?”--Rodimus

“That’s Buddy. They are one of the better bots on the ship. I’ve had the pleasure of working with them. They know how to get their reports done on time.”--Magnus

“Ignoring the side remark there, I bet they were a powerhouse during the war.”--Rodimus

“Actually, Buddy didn’t see too much of the war. They ended up being a bodyguard for several labs on off world outposts. They like quiet things Rodimus, something you should learn a little bit of.”--Magnus

“…I’m going to introduce myself.”--Rodimus

“…If you scare them off I will demolish you.”—Magnus

Rodimus made it his personal mission to know who this bot was.

It was a bit of a rough start with Rodimus literally summersaulting over to meet them. Which caused Buddy to involuntarily kick him in the chassis to the other end of the room.

Now, that same bot who had kicked him across the room and carried him to the med bay while apologizing profusely was on the floor of his habsuite picking the movie for date night.

“Okay Roddy, I’m at a tie. It’s either ‘Speed’ or ‘Grease’. I can’t pick which one to watch tonight.”--Buddy

“Hmmm…”--Rodimus

“Roddy? Hello, Lost Light to Rodimus, anyone in there?”--Buddy

“How did I get so lucky?”--Rodimus

“Well, I did get the deals for earth movies from that vender last stop--”--Buddy

“No, how did I get so lucky to have you as my lovely partner.”--Rodimus

“O-oh!”--Buddy

“Look at you! You’re adorable! You’re adorable looking face!”--Rodimus

“Roddy!”--Buddy

“Yes?”--Rodimus

“The movie? Please?”--Buddy

“Oh, ‘Grease’.”--Rodimus

“Thank—”--Buddy

“So I can slide over there and give you a hug and kiss your adorable face!”--Rodimus

“RODDY!”--Buddy

How did he get so lucky?

To have such a kind, sweet, caring, and absolute powerhouse of a bot to call his partner.

Maybe… Conjux?

No… not yet…

Rodimus has a bad habit of speaking for Buddy, since they were so quiet all the time. Buddy didn’t mind it at first, but it soon got annoying when they came to more personal things. They had a talk with him about him speaking for them.

Now Rodimus catches himself before he speaks, for the most part. But he is learning.

Rodimus loves to get Buddy flustered up, does not care if its in public or in private. Not that it would take much anyways.

“Hey Buddy, are you a camera?”--Rodimus

“Rodimus not now.”--Buddy

“Because every time I look at you I smile.”--Rodimus

“Rodimus—”--Buddy

“Are you a parking ticket?”--Rodimus

“Roddy, no—”--Buddy

“ ’Cause you got FINE written all over you.”--Rodimus

“… Rodimus we are in a meeting—”--Magnus

“Shh! I wanna see how this ends.”--Whirl

Magnus has written several memos about PDA to Rodimus.

Does he read them? Nope.

Buddy felt a little bad for Magnus and decided to take things into their own servos.

The next time Rodimus started up his one-liners, Buddy surprised their flusterness and shot back their own attacks.

“If I could breathe, you’d take my breath away every time.”--Rodimus

“Well, can I borrow your star map? Because I lost my way looking at your optics.”--Buddy

“Huh?!”--Rodimus

“Do you by any chance have an extra spark on you… you seemed to have stolen mine.”--Buddy

“…”--Rodimus

“Rod—”--Buddy

FWWOOOOOSSSHHHH!

“OH, SWEET PRIMUS HE’S FLAMING UP AGAIN! CYCLONUS! TAILGATE PASS ME THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER!”--Buddy

Rodimus exe has stopped working please try again later.

Buddy has to carry Rodimus to their shared habsuite. Speaking of habsuite, that is the place where Rodimus loves to be with Buddy the most. Mainly because Buddy becomes a bit more affectionate in private than in public.

Rodimus loves being the little spoon.

There are times that he’ll try and be the big spoon, but he always goes back to being the little spoon.

“Its going to happen tonight, Buddy! I can feel it!”--Rodimus

“And if it doesn’t?”--Buddy

“Then… you get to pick next date nights activities.”--Rodimus

“Deal.”--Rodimus

Next morning…

“Morning—oh c’mon!”--Rodimus

“Ahh… the sweet sounds of victory.”--Buddy

“I’ll do it next time.”--Rodimus

“Sure Roddy, sure.”--Buddy

[scaly-freaks]

inmate 13453

okay don't get excited, i just felt like writing a bit of a drabble to feel out the atmosphere of a potential start to this au (clicking the tag will give up the other stuff i've posted for it btw)

btw check out the playlist and the pinterest board made by @theageofsilver and @allicentsallure bc they're fab

cw: kidnapping

Soft seventeen.

Bambi eyes, bambi legs.

There’s a certain edge to the way people describe the age she’s at. Not quite eighteen, not quite legal, tangible as cherry juice on greedy fingers. She isn’t sixteen, sweet and tender. It’s a soft first step into adulthood, skirting the border, the in between, the unknowable horrors that lie ahead.

She fucking hates being seventeen.

It’s a shit number first of all. Odd numbers make her want to spew. They feel like nails on a chalkboard, polyester static on leg hair. She can’t even dance, so whatever ABBA are singing about doesn’t apply.

Amara sticks out her tongue and tastes the air as the breeze blows west. She swears she can get a sense of the world when she does.

Her stepfather mocks her for it. That blue-eyed, blonde maniac with the ugly Buick Electra he treats like a brand-name Italian from the southern coasts of Europe. He used to treat her mother the same. Until he began to tell Amara you look just like her when she was young. He leaves his porn tabs open on his computer, as if he wants her to know. ‘Teen’, ‘Latina’, ‘Stepfather’, ‘Rough’, ‘Face-fucking’, ‘Breeding.’

She doesn’t have a drop of Hispanic blood in her.

She really wants to tell her mother, but there is a chance her mother will look right through her instead. She’s been doing that a lot more nowadays. They can’t afford her meds anymore. She just sits on the porch and watches and waits. For what, is anyone's guess.

>> can you pick me up?

>> its dark

>> pls

>> sorry ik its inconvienant

'Step-Daddy' always replies quickly when it’s her. He has a heart next to her name on his phone. She never agreed to that.

>> it’s spelled inconvenient

“Suck my dick,” Amara tells the screen and switches her phone off before he can message again.

She can walk.

The route back runs dangerously close to the edge of the forest. All kinds rot away in there, but she doesn’t like to think of them by name. They’ll become real if she does. She wishes her mother had found a man who lived in the wetlands, and not here at the cursed border between life and the realm beyond. Marshes are easier to understand. Forests are cursed.

Still, life is horribly simple here. Her high school is placid and filled with the dull-eyed children of dull-eyed adults. The gas station where she works didn’t bother to interview her. She walked in and the guy behind the counter stared at her breasts until he remembered she had a face. Her breasts aced the interview for her.

Can I work here? Just until I graduate.

Sure, grab a nametag.

Four months later, and she doesn’t mind it anymore. Her brain shuts off. Her customers are a ragtag mixture of suspicious, ferret-eyed locals and the occasionally buoyant hiker from out of state. If she doesn’t look like she belongs, she’s pretty, and that usually gives people like her a pass. At least until the sleazy comments become ethnically charged. But even then, Amara has a way of making her eyes go ‘dopey’ and just smiling like she’s too slow to understand. Displaying discomfort is what eggs them on (kind of a nasty realisation she opened her eyes to one day).

An engine growls some way down the road.

Old Chevy pickup, faded gold.

She recognises it from the parking lot at the station near the end of her shift.

A guy stepped out, young, early twenties, with a shock of hair that looked white until she realised it was just really, really blonde. She remembers thinking it was odd. The range of blondes in town runs from deep and dirty to the artificial bleach rattled out of holographic boxes of dye. No one has hair like his. She’d have noticed.

His eyebrows were a little darker, and his lashes were darker still. He had a funny way of walking, and he looked at her like she had the head of a fish and the body of a human being. Amara did her best dopey eyes. She asked him if he’d had a good day, pointed out the offers they had on pork rinds. He didn’t say a word. His skin had smears of black grease, glistening with sweat and bronzed by the sun.

Deep blue eyes.

Horribly deep.

Not the kind you’d want to swim in. She likes a softer blue, blue like chlorine, reminiscent of the safety of swimming pools. His were anything but.

She picks up her speed, and for some reason, puts her phone to her ear as if mid-conversation. Nothing about him said he was dangerous at the time. At least not from the way he’d barely said a word or looked down at her body. He was just there, and then he was gone.

And now here he is again.

The Chevy hits the horn. He is creeping closer. Amara turns and waves at him to go on. She doesn’t want a ride. Why isn’t he rolling down the window to offer one though?

It slows to a crawl. Her throat closes up. She has a feeling speeding up will give him what he wants. He’s obviously trying to be a prick. But if she goes back to talk to him, that would be exponentially worse. She switches her phone back on and sees her stepfather’s message telling her to get back home herself after she didn’t reply to tell him her location.

She quickly shoots him a message, and prays he’ll respond.

He doesn’t.

Fuck it.

She walks faster. The Chevy matches the increase. Sweat blooms on the back of her neck.

Every woman has that oh fuck moment. That I’m going to be on the evening news moment. The please god if he catches me let him kill me before he gets to raping me moment.

None of that goes through her head. She keeps thinking of her mother’s cooking. Her mother hasn’t cooked in a year and a half, not since her mind began to slip. But Amara can taste the spices on her tongue, the way the rice was perfectly simmered, the cinnamon in the back of her throat, the smell that clung to the walls, the heat of it.

I wanna come home, Momma.

Her mother’s face gathers into shape in her head, built with sand particles and saltwater. When the Chevy roars, she starts running. Her mother vanishes.

The lights of the truck blink across the tarmac. It’s a signal. But it isn’t for her.

She looks over her shoulder, and she can’t see him.

Run me over. Leave me like carrion on the road. Let the maggots eat me. Don’t cut me up first.

He slows when she starts to tire out. Picks up when she tries again. No other car has graced this road since she first turned onto it. A sign points her to the right, ushering her deeper into the backwoods. The town is to the left.

He figures out where she’s going when she suddenly makes a dash for the bend in the road.

There’s no time to dodge the pickup when it goes for her this time. The wheels skid as he yanks it at an angle and blocks her way. The door flies open and misses her by an inch. His arm grabs for her. She dodges, animal fear and rust on her tongue. He still doesn’t say a word.

A heavy fist connects with the small of her back and she drops like a stone.

The pain is electric. Air turns her lungs into taut balloons, but she can’t make a sound. She twists around and the bruise forming over her spine grates. Adrenaline quickly numbs it as she lashes out with her arms and legs. Kicking, punching, scratching, biting. Her teeth hit home. A mouthful of tattooed flesh, car oil and sweat. Still no sound from him.

She never sees the fist coming, just like last time.

A blow to the head and lights out, nancy.

[luvyurself]

hate you

for @fishsticksloser dity :D I went a little overboard with it but I hope you like it <3

story chosen: there for my final breath

c/w: she/her pronouns, major character death, bad future timeline, babies first angst story, donnie battles with emotions, he’s coping hardcore, kind of rushed (aka I just saw their post about it and got to writing LMAOO)

to set the vibe listen to this teehee:

———

what was a “successful mission” anymore?

was it really successful when a person you loved was killed in battle?

was it really successful when you wake up screaming from nightmares retelling the events of that day? the universe mocking you in its sick and twisted way, in a way that said, “this is your reality, your world.”

“this is your future.”

death was a concept he had to get used to, as unfortunate as it was, it quickly became a common thing he would have to face when the krang invaded new york city.

from when he was a teen, donnie would swear up and down that he emotions were a wast of time, it being the only thing that he genuinely didn’t get. why do we feel random things that change sporadically with no rhyme or reason? a concept so foreign, yet can be so….how to say….comforting.

like that giddy feeling when he completed an invention, the heart pounding in his chest when he rambled on and on to his brothers about a topic for an hour.

the heart melting and wavy smile he would get when she would kiss his cheek every morning.

she was practically his ray of sunshine in the hellscape of the world he came to know. when he would be planning new inventions to take down the krang, she would be massaging his shoulders with her slightly rough hands, a faint reminder of the change she went through.

they would be in the battle field, back to back as they fight against the enemy, then together in the med bay with stupid smiles on their faces as they sloppily put bandaids on their injuries.

she was there to hold him when raph died, humming a soft song as he silently cried into her shoulder, his hand gripping hers in a tight grip. a silent way he expressed it without sobbing out loud. he never cried out loud, her never sobbed so hard until he physically couldn’t cry anymore.

donnie liked it like that.

no matter how unhealthy it was to bottle up the need to let out his emotions, it was always how he moved on, how he could move on.

but not anymore.

not even now.

it wasn’t supposed to happen, he had it all mapped out. even with her on the mission without him, he had eyes on her from inside his lab. the hologram figure of her stared at him as he banged his fist on the table.

“damn it…” he grumbled, rubbing his face in frustration. her voice spoke up, a little bit out of breath, “what? what happened?”

his eyes turned to her, a sharp breath escaping his nose, “there’s practically no way to destroy the place, we can’t do nothing.” he looked over disarray sketches of the technodrome, gritting his teeth in anger, “there’s no way of shutting it down without one of those freaks catching you, I’m calling it off.”

tapping on his arm band to send the information to leo, he heard her soft breathing as she spoke up once more. “what about that?”

he looked up once more, seeing where she was located at. he takes a sharp intake of air once he realizes what it was. “the core! ha! of course the kraang have a core on their ship, that will knock them down a leg greatly!”

he turned his back away from the hologram, “once you come back, we can discuss what we found with the others, that way we can be more prepared.”

“donnie.”

“this will help us gain some sort of advantage with that ship gone.”

“don-“

“have I ever tell you about that keen eye, my love? oh I can practically kiss you through the-“

“DONATELLO!” he nearly flinched at his full name, turning back around to face her, a confused look on his face. “what? you can’t blame me for being excited!”

she was quiet for a moment, clearing her voice to speak. “we can’t wait until another time.” her voice was quieter then usual, her eyes staring down at the floor.

an uneasy feeling began to settle in his stomach, “what do you mean? we don’t have any available resources right now, we can try again tomorrow-“

“tomorrow isn’t promised, donnie.” she said, looking back at the core, and back at him. “we have an opportunity right now, we have to take it.”

he’s quiet for a moment, before he finally got what she was implying. “no. you’re not doing anything.” his voice was serious, brown furrowed as he pointed at her hologram form.

“you will come back right now. that’s an order, that you will follow.” he couldn’t help his heart racing, the horrible feeling coming over him as she gave him a small smile.

she was always stubborn. selfless. an emotion he never understood from her.

“I am forever grateful that I met you in this life, donatello.” she whispered, her hand slipping the communicator off her wrist, “I love you, so much.”

he felt the world fall silent, watching as she muted and dropped the communicator on the floor. his screams falling on deaf ears as he saw her run to the core of the technodrome.

his chest was hurting, his heart was pounding as he quickly grabbed his battle shell. he hated it. he hated it so much. he wanted it to stop.

he transfer the call with her to his wrist tech, at the same time calling for any available assistance on the front lines to stop her.

“I need all available support to the technodrome’s core room, I repeat-“ he quickly flew to where the technodrome is located.

“I need all available support to the-“

BOOM

he’s quickly knocked down from the sky, landing on the ground as he felt the air knocked out of him. he takes a moment to recover before he looked up at the sky, his breath stopping for a moment.

it’s all gone. the technodrome. she had done it. she had destroyed the whole thing. he looked down at his tech, hearing nothing but static from her end.

then he feels nothing. the sounds of the troops unknowingly celebrating become white noise to him as he felt the unwelcome feeling return.

the tears were silent, teeth gritting as his hands dug into his palms. he felt a hand on his shoulder, and jerked violently away from the touch.

“don?” the voice of leo asked quietly, staring at his face. he looked down at his wrist tech, before speaking up once more, “where’s…what happened?”

donnie couldn’t speak. he couldn’t breathe. he couldn’t do anything.

the only thing that came from his lips was a strangled sob. his hand slapping over his lips as he sobbed violently into his hands.

leo held onto him, not saying anything.

and once more, he was stuck with the feeling that he hated. but this time it was worse. way worse.

he wanted to hate her, he wanted to scold her for making him feel this way. she knew he hated to feel this, but yet, she caused him to feel that and more.

it might hurt less, to hate her for what she did.

but he still loved her for everything she ever did.

and he hated to love her for that.

[honeyjars-sims]

3.36 Left the Building

Later that night, I remember what Lexie said about not letting any opportunities to get away from me and decide I should try to find a way to get Lacey alone.

I just can't find the right moment. It seems like one of us is always heading off into our tent for a nap or busy eating or caught up in conversation with someone else.

It doesn't help that Lexie keeps looking at me expectantly. It feels like everyone else is waiting for me to make my move and having all eyes on me just adds to the pressure.

At one point we're all gathered around the campfire when Lacey starts asking Paul about school.

"Are you planning on staying at Foxbury for med school?" she inquires.

"No, actually I was accepted into Sequoia State," he explains. "I'm going to take my last few courses at Foxbury over the summer, then I'm moving here in the fall."

"Oh, that's cool! I guess we'll be seeing you around more then."

I feel my stomach drop a bit and decide I should intervene before Lacey and Paul start making plans together. Lacey starts coughing and I seize the opportunity.

"I could use some fresh air," I break in. "Sounds like you could, too, Lacey."

"Yeah, that would be nice," she replies, and we walk away from the others.

"I hope you don't mind that I singled you out, but I thought you could use a break from the smoke," I tell her.

"Oh, no, that's fine," she responds. "Actually, I was hoping we would get the chance to be alone."

"You were?"

"Don't act so surprised," she says, a smile spreading across her face. "I thought it was obvious I was into you."

"Well, I guess I wasn't sure. Actually, I thought you might be interested in Paul."

She wrinkles her nose. "Paul? He's nice and all, but he's not really my type. He can be kind of a dork sometimes."

"He's not that bad," I say before realizing I'm defending the guy I've been insecure about. "Anyway, what is your type?"

"Well, I like a guy who can make me laugh. Someone who's comfortable being himself and goes for what he wants."

This would be the perfect moment for me to ask her out or kiss her or something, but none of that happens. Instead we're interrupted by the ungodly sound of someone retching their guts out behind us.

We turn to see Lucy hunched over and violently expelling the contents of her stomach onto the ground. Any chance of a romantic moment happening tonight is effectively ruined.

We walk back towards the others, who are gathered around Lucy in concern.

"Are you okay?" Paul asks her. He runs down a list a symptoms but Lucy denies that anything's wrong.

"I'm fine, really," she insists, like she hadn't just recreated a scene from The Exorcist in the middle of the woods.

"Oh, so you expelled the demon, then?" I ask.

"Yes, Pazuzu has left the building."

In the morning we start packing up and prepare to leave.

"So did you do it?" Lexie asks, referring to me asking Lacey on a date.

"No. I was about to, but then Lucy...you know. Kinda ruined the moment."

Lexie laughs. "Yeah, that would do it."

"But look, I need you to lay off a bit about Lacey," I say, kindly but firmly. "I know you mean well, but it's a lot of pressure."

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I know I'm being overzealous. I just want you to be happy."

"And I will be. I am. I had a rough few months, but I'm in a really good place right now."

"That's great! I guess I just felt guilty about everything. I hate that I hurt you."

"I know. But I don't even think about that much anymore. I mostly think about how much you cared about and supported me. Maybe your feelings for me weren't romantic, but they were still real."

"They were, and still are. You're like the brother I never had, and I miss you like crazy." She's starting to tear up, and I know now that whatever negative feelings I had about our breakup are gone. They left the building with Pazuzu.

"I miss you, too. I don't like not having you in my life." I wrap my arms around her. It feels nice having her in my arms again, but it's not a romantic feeling. It's more like the comfort of an old friend.

"I really do love you, Johnny."

"I love you, too, Lexie."

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[storiesofsvu]

Solace in Solitude Ch 9

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol consumption, sexual conversations. guys... we're so close. SO CLOSE!

The barrier had been broken and routines began to shift around the apartment as the two of you continued to get comfortable with each other. Emily started staying out in the living room when she would hear your alarm go off on work mornings, she’d time it just right so that the coffee was hot and fresh the moment you got out of the shower. You’d usually brief through your day with her, go through any surgeries you had, especially if you were worried about something. She took it all in and always asked the right kind of questions that helped your brain work around the issues, and you were impressed with just how well she understood most of it.

You’d come home to a quiet apartment while Emily slept, drop your stuff off and then head to the gym most days to make sure you weren’t waking her up, so she got proper sleep. Dinner was usually ready as soon as she was getting up and the two of you would be able to eat together, usually on the balcony as the sun went down. You’d had life chats, tell old stories, stupid jokes, laughter filled the space rather than tension. Emily knew just how to get you to tell a story about your childhood, something relating to family or your mom without you realizing what she was doing, and in turn it was never a sad memory. You discovered Emily was a whiz at poker, but you were the breadwinner when it came to blackjack, that she preferred paranormal horror movies, and you were the one that always cried over cheesy romantic comedies.

There was finally starting to be a balance between the two of you, she wasn’t snarky because you were her doctor and thus caretaker anymore, and you didn’t have to babysit any longer. You took care of each other, Emily holding up her end of the deal by always making sure there were home cooked baked goods to snack on while you made sure vegetables made it into dinner. Emily made the promise to only smoke if you were also smoking, which rarely happened but there was the occasional night that you were having a rough go and needed more than a glass of wine to help cope with everything and there was nothing wrong with that.

**

You were in the kitchen getting breakfast ready, surprised that Emily hadn’t been in the living room when you’d gotten up that morning. But it would make sense that she just got tired early and decided to marathon tv in bed instead so she didn’t fall asleep on the couch. You were about to toss her breakfast sandwich into a container when the coffee machine beeped loudly and a few seconds later she was coming out of her room.

“Shit…” she muttered under her breath, “sorry. I thought I’d wake up when your alarm went off.”

You looked at her curiously for a moment before your lips twitched up into a smirk, “did you just sleep through the night?”

She stilled, an almost guilty expression on her face, “uh… yeah.” She laughed softly, “guess having to get up early with you to go into the hospital kinda fucked my daytime sleeping thing up.”

“Mmhm.” You nodded, pulling down an extra mug to fill with her coffee, “so I take it the new med adjustment is working?”

“How’d you know about that?” She asked, stepping into the kitchen to accept the steaming beverage and you chuckled.

“I’m still your doctor. I took a look at your scans from yesterday and with that came your file.” You grabbed another plate from the cupboard, putting the extra sandwich on it, “glad it’s working. You wanna eat outside?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, “thanks. And uh, another question for you.”

“What’s up?”

“PT said I should bump up my activity now, and I kinda liked getting out in the morning, the city’s quieter. Do you think it’d be okay for me to tag along with you on your way to work more often?”

 “Yeah, of course.” You replied with a smile, “it’s a lot nicer to not do it alone.”

“You’re a life saver.” She let out a breath, “and I wouldn’t like, follow you around at work or wait for you or anything, probably just grab a coffee and wander back here.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t even want to see another hospital again.” You replied back with a laugh, relief washing over you when she laughed even harder, shaking her head at you as she picked up her plate, nudging you toward the balcony.

Emily liked her new morning commute, even if it wasn’t starting her workday, it gave her something to do, a proper reason to get out of bed and a way to feel a bit more like a real person again. Most days she’d split off from you a few blocks from the hospital before picking up a coffee or tea to do her people watching in different areas of the city. She’d meander around as the shops opened, checking things out and usually pick up a lunch on the way back home from a local vendor. If she found something she really loved, she’d pick it up again the next day and drop one off at the hospital for you, her way of saying thank you, and apologizing for being the worst patient and roommate you’d ever had.

**

On days that you didn’t work, the two of you avoided the metro at peak times, opting for lazy mornings with later breakfasts and extended cups of coffee. Some days you played tourist, checking out the sights of the city, other days you just wandered around together. On the rare occasion you had more than three days off in a row you were able to rent a car and head outside the city limits to explore a little bit further.

Some days Emily would join you at the gym, eager to get herself back to the shape she was in prior to everything going down. While she knew it would likely take more than a few months, she had to start somewhere, focussing on strengthening what her PT from the hospital said and taking it up a few notches higher. She did prefer to just use the time you went to the gym to work out at home, she wasn’t the gym type, never had been, but she couldn’t exactly store everything she needed in the small, shared space.

On lazier days, days you were too tired or unmotivated to do anything sometimes Emily would wander alone, some days she would keep you company while you showed her your favourite movie series. And some days, you ended up down the road at one of the smaller pubs where you could swap out the usual wine for cocktails and pretend like you were being social with other people.

Which was exactly where you were tonight. A basket of fries sitting between the two of you on the bar top while you sipped on drinks. You were seated at the shorter side of the bar, parallel to the space behind the bar, partially so Emily could have her back to the wall and partially because it gave you both the full view of the room. While chatting with the bartender or watching the sports game was fine, you’d both discovered that watching the other patrons was more entertaining.

“It’s got to be a full moon or something.” Emily muttered; her eyes fixed across the room.

“People are particularly wild tonight.” You replied, snagging another fry from the basket.

“I honestly thought that guy was gonna get a glass to the face.”

“It’s what happens when you hit on someone else’s girlfriend like that.” You replied with a shrug, “he was relentless.”

“And the girl’s boyfriend was twice the size of him, what’d he think was gonna happen?” She laughed, pulling one from you as the bartender came over to check on you, offering another round of drinks that you accepted.

“God I can’t believe I used to be that young and dumb. I couldn’t even imagine doing half the shit we’ve seen tonight at our age.”

“We’ve turned into spinsters.” She replied dryly, “it’s honestly amazing we’re out of the house on a Friday night anyways.”

“Yeah but I’m far too lazy to make my own mojitos.” You paused to thank the bartender for the refill, taking a hefty swig.

“I’ll drink to that.” She tilted her glass toward you and you clinked it with yours. “This group at ten o’clock?”

“Yeah?” Your eyes scanned through the room, following her direction until you found them.

“Girl in the pink’s been getting hit on by green shirt and blue shirt all night. Who’s she going home with?”

“Hmm...” Your lips wrapped around your straw for another sip as you surveyed the situation, spinning your own theories onto things, watching the group dynamics.

“Green shirt’s managed to get pretty touchy without any shying away.”

“Yeah but he’s buying her drinks, I’d put up with the flirting for free shit too. Besides, blue’s hotter.”

“You think?” She looked over at you and you shrugged.

“I’m mean, I wouldn’t fuck him, but if I had to pick between the two of them…” you gestured vaguely towards him and Emily tilted her head in recognition.

“He’s too shy.” She muttered, watching the man in blue, “doesn’t have the balls to flirt with her when green’s around and he doesn’t care who sees.”

“Yeah, but that’ll pay off in the long run.”

“How?”

“Green’s a partier, a fuck boy, he may be flirting with her but he keeps eye fucking everything with a pulse when he thinks she’s not looking. Nice guys don’t always finish last, ya know.” You teased with a smirk and she scoffed, “besides, look at the scar on the back of green’s leg.” Emily’s eyes flicked to the back of his knee, “that’s fresh. I’m sure he’s supposed to be wearing a brace but thought it wasn’t cool, he’s probably still on the painkillers. He’s what?” You eyeballed him for a minute, “5’8’’, 160? With the amount he drank in the last hour, he’ll be three sheets to the wind in the next twenty.”

Emily pulled her gaze away from the group, surveying you for a minute as she took a sip of her drink and then let out a huff, “fuck, sometimes I forget you’re a doctor and you can do shit like that.” You laughed, “my money’s still on drunk-y.”

“Alright.” You replied with a grin and the two of you laughed before distracting yourselves with another group to people watch.

It was almost exactly twenty minutes later when Emily’s eyes circled back over to the original group and she let out a quiet swear. The girl was sitting in a separate booth from her friends, next to blue who had his arm against the back of the booth. Green was attempting to dance with another girl, stumbling so hard the bouncer was already on his way to escort him outside.

“Fuck.” She glanced up to the bartender who was halfway through a conversation with you, “put her next one on my tab.”

“Huh?” You glanced over to her and she nodded in the direction she’d been looking and you burst out a laugh. “Told ya.”

By the time that round of drinks had been finished, blue had made his move and the two of them had yet to stop making out across the bar.

“Jesus Christ.” Emily muttered, “they really don’t care that they’re in public, do they?”

“They’ve gotta come up for air sometime.” You replied and she laughed, “god...” you sighed, your elbow dropping onto the bar top so you could prop your chin up in your hand, “to be that young and just not give a shit….”

“Oh I remember the days.”

“Fondly?”

“Most of the time they make me cringe, I won’t lie. Half of it was likely just to piss off my mother.”

“They really are going to town…” your brow furrowed, “is his hand up her skirt?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Good for them.” You huffed, “lord knows it’s been ages since my last good make out.”

“Yeah?” Emily raised a playful brow, “how long.”

“Well…” you chewed on your lip for a moment, “my ex and I broke up like…almost a year before I moved here...”

“A year?!” She exclaimed, “wait… how long was I under for?”

“Just shy of a month.” You replied, taking another sip of your drink, “got here early March.”

“October is next week!”

“You don’t have to remind me.” You stated with a laugh, picking up the shot Emily had ordered earlier and throwing it back.

“Okay, but relationships fizzle out, you stop having sex near the end of them, sometimes for months. Please tell me you at least had a couple hook ups after that.”

“Nope. Too heartbroken, then too busy with work.”

“So how long for that?”

“I don’t even want to think about it.” You chuckled, “this conversation is making me feel very shrivelled up but the saving grace is that I know you haven’t touched a soul in at least eight months so I feel a little better about that.”

“Glad I could be of service.” She laughed, saluting you before signalling for another round, “you know, there’s a sex toy shop that’s open late around the corner, you could pick something up.”

“Oh?” You raised a brow, “that one of your weekly shopping destinations?”

Emily scoffed, “no! And in my defence, I thought it was a lingerie boutique, figured since I don’t have anything that’s actually my style, I might want to pick something up. Went inside and nope, dildos, everywhere. And a very awkward conversation with the clerk.”

“Yeah? What’d’ya buy?” You asked with a grin.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Emily teased you right back, laughter filling the space between you as the bartender placed down another round of shots.

**

You were sitting at the breakfast bar, laptop in front of you and completely unaware that Emily was already out of the shower.

“What’re you looking at?” She asked, the tease very present in her voice and you jumped, practically slamming the laptop closed.

“Nothing.”

“Oh c’mon.” She laughed, flipping it back open, “it’s not like I didn’t already see, I watched you click through three options.” You felt the heat creeping up on your cheeks as she braced herself on the counter, hand half wrapped around you as she peered over your shoulder. “Why bother ordering online, just go to that shop.”

“Well after the raving review you gave I figured an in-person sale might be incredibly awkward. Plus the wrapping isn’t usually discreet and then you’d know exactly what I’d bought and I don’t need that.”

“Did you seriously move across an ocean and not bring any with you, or are you one of those girls who just doesn’t use them?” She asked, her hip coming to lean against the counter as her arms crossed.

“I moved to Paris for an indefinite amount of time, of course I brought some.” You deadpanned, “but it’s just weird to even think about doing anything when you’re in the house, I’ve lived alone so long I usually don’t think about it.”

“Have you seriously not touched yourself since March? No wonder you’re so pent up.”

“You were in the hospital for a long time…”

“Right.” She nodded, understanding what you were getting at, “still… grab a toy, use it. I’ll go out for a drink tonight.”

“That’s still weird though!” You laughed, “then the entire time I’m trying to get off all I’m thinking about is the fact that you’ve purposely left the house and are sitting at some bar wondering how long it will be til you can come home cause you’re thinking about me touching myself. And that’s not gonna help me.”

“Okay, so I’ll start leaving the house more randomly when you’re home.”

“Don’t bother.” You sighed, your chin finding a home in your hand as you redirected your gaze to the computer screen, clicking back a page to see more options, “the vibe died back in April and I’m not big on using the dildo myself, only when it was attached to the ex.”

Emily smirked, suddenly caging you into the counter from behind, “it doesn’t have to be her wearing it.” She laughed, “I can confidently say I know my way around a strap.” Her breath was hot on your ear when she spoke and you nearly choked on air at the tone in her voice. Her fingers brushed across your lower back as she moved around the island, “What?” She raised a brow.

“Nothing.” You shook your head, not daring to look up from the screen.

“Really?” She turned around, pouring out a fresh cup of coffee, “seems like you’re a little flustered, that’s all.” Turning back to you she took a sip, watching the way you shifted in your seat, almost uncomfortably before she barked out a laugh, “I’m kidding!”

“Jesus christ.” You swore, throwing a pen in her direction.

“You should have seen the look on your face.”

“I hate you…”

_________________

@momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @theclassicgaycousin @regalmilfs4me @kalixxh @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen men @tommyriddleobsessed @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @ratsnestinmyhair @assgardangod @originalbrunettecharacter @elz-artzzz @hopedoesntknow @dj-bynum3718 @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @nachofriess @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx

[avocado-writing]

hey! first off, i love your writing so much.

secondly, i’d love to see an aziraphale x reader x crowley fic where the reader has some mental health issues (specifically like anxiety and depression) and they’re going through a really rough time at the moment (maybe they’re just in a really bad headspace or their meds aren’t working so they’re struggling really bad) and they just get support and comfort from aziracrow. (i’m ngl this is kind of a self indulgent ask bc i’m personally going through some bad mental health stuff rn -100/10 i do not recommend). anyways, there’s no rush at all i’m just a sucker for hurt/comfort and fluff.

hope you have an amazing day!

notes: finally getting around to clearing out my requests, sorry this took so long - I was sort of avoiding it for a while because I wasn’t in a great space either. I hope you’re doing better x

pairing: aziraphale x reader x crowley (could be read as platonic)

cw: depression/seasonal affective disorder

rating: T

It’s difficult. 

Some days it feels like the fog won’t lift. The dark months, they always get you and it’s awful - you just want to sleep for a long time and not wake up until you know it will be better. You need to get your meds adjusted, really, but the idea of going outside and dealing with people is just a little bit sickening. 

You can’t. You just can’t. 

The lethargy that can only be brought on with melancholia plagues your every waking moment. You know that you’d forget to take care of yourself if it wasn’t for the two of them. 

God knows they’re wonderful. 

Every morning you wake up to a check-in text from Crowley, gently encouraging you to shower because they’ll be over soon. You find the effort to drag yourself to the bathroom and stand under the powerful jet for long enough that you start to zone out, only leaving the enclosure of water and steam when you hear the two of them walk into your flat. 

You never gave them the key. They manage to get in anyway. 

They bring breakfast - well, Aziraphale brings breakfast, and he eats it with you to make sure that you eat at all. That can be something that you forget. Crowley watches you over the rim of his coffee cup until he’s certain you’ve had an adequate amount, and then a miracle takes care of the washing up. 

Then they’re around you for as much or as little as you want them to be, but never more than a phone call away. 

One day you find yourself crying into your fried eggs, and the two of them look aghast. In a flash they’re by your side, holding you, a hand running up and down your back in comfort. 

“My dear, what’s the matter?” Aziraphale asks, and you can hear him snap his jaw shut quickly because well, the depression is the matter. It’s so ridiculous you end up laughing through your sobs. 

“Sorry. Sorry, I’m being silly,” you manage, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. “I just… you’re so wonderful to me. I don’t deserve it.”

“None of that,” Crowley chastises you, gently, “‘course you ‘deserve it’.”

“It isn’t a burden to look after someone you care about, darling,” Aziraphale adds. 

And you can’t bring yourself to say anything more, so you just let yourself be held very tightly. 

tags: @angiestopit @foolishprincipalitee @smile-eywa @staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @willbedecided @bdffkierenwalker @cool-iguana @ilyatan @civil-groupie @willyoubethepookietomypookster @lxsm2 @clarina04 @wtfhasmy-lifecometo @mrgatotortuga @wereallbrokenangels @night-affiliate @silcosmoke @kimqueenofhell @chewbrry @bajablast23 @h3k3t @am-i-obsessed---maybe @bakerstreethound@a-mediocore-writer@darktealrat @chaospossum @belilwen @rex-ray @hunterispunk

[leftythehelpingtankengine]

Hi and welcome to the Wesker side of tumblr! Happy to have you here <3 I've got a req, either for headcanons or one-shot (preferably the first ^^), a bit unusual but I believe this side of the character is rather unexplored hehe. Which is: sickfic stuff, not for the reader but for the one and only himself. (Would probably be for his captain era, since I don't think the tyrant self can get under the weather but ofc that's up to you here!) Ty for your attention and have a good day/night! - signing,🐍

THANK YOU SO MUCHH!!! You too :) I’ve been a long-time lurker and finally got brave enough to start posting about it LMAO. I like how you think- here’s what I got (I'm so sorry this took so long and I apologize if this wasn’t exactly what you wanted since this is my first time writing a sickfic)

The kind of sickness i see him getting at any point is migraines or a sickness from a weakened immune system due to lack of sleep

Like all of the sleepless or late nights at work came back to bite him in the ass

It would hit him as soon as he woke up the morning after a particularly rough/late-night

His partner would be able to tell something was off as soon as they saw him since he’d look extra tired and worn out

He wouldn’t be used to someone Actually Caring about him so he’d definitely be resistant at first if not through the entire duration of him being sick

His partner is putting their foot down and practically forced him to take a day off and let them take care of him despite him thinking that it’s entirely unnecessary (he’s lying to himself the man can barely keep his eyes open)

They would go the whole nine yards, soup, meds, cold washcloth for his head, etc.

They wouldn’t let him lift a finger and would give a little lecture about his late night work negatively impacting his health over a long period of time

They would do their best to relieve Wesker of whatever he had to so he would have no excuse to do anything but rest

After a while though he'd try to drag the reader back in bed to rest with him, he's incredibly thankful for what they're doing for him and having them close to him always makes him feel at least a little better

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/744798398911266817/a-question-a-bit-out-of-the-usual-ones-but-do-you?source=share

NB, vagina owner, sensory processing issues haver, took several years of effort to learn to orgasm, heres some tips;

Psychology is a BIG aspect of being able to get off for some people. Some people really need to be 'in the mood' at first. The Need To Be Horny. Really into what they are doing and what they are imagining. You need to be able to let go and lean into the sensation, mentally. Try watching or reading things that turn you on, really wind yourself up for a bit, then ensure you arent going to be interrupted and give it a shot. Really focus on your fantasy, try to really focus on the sensation and don't get sidetracked. It can make a difference for sure. Its why some people can 'cum on command'- the frame of mind is important.

Being used to the sensation you need to lean into can take work. When I first started jerking off it was so intense it 'hurt' because I have sensory processing issues and it was new weird stimulus my brain decided to register stupid, so id slow down or stop or get distracted and not get off. I had to teach my body to accept the feeling and do it in a way that didnt mess with my sensory processing as much (which ironically involved causing a little pain and being a little rough because phsyical-pain isnt severely uncomfortable the way discomfort-pain is). When you are used to it you also relax more and get into the right frame of mind. The feeling like your guts are tensing and building towards something, maybe a hazy sort of liquid fire in your skull going down your spine? Keep chasing that, really focus on it. That means you are heading in the right direction. It took me several years of dedicated kind-of edging before the feeling stopped being so intense it prevented me from making it to the other side.

Try different stuff. You might not like how you are doing things right now. If all youve done is penetration with your fingers, try clitoral. If all you've done is a gentle stroking motion, try a jerk-off motion if you can get your fingers around your clit, or a kinda rough grinding. If you usually keep your body still, try humping the whatever for the heady 'lose yourself in the moment'. If you usually move around, try being still so you dont distract yourself too much from the intensity. If you are always on your back, try your stomach or side or kneeling upright. Toys! Try rubbing different textures on your clit or getting a real toy like a strong vibrator or sucker. Cheap 20$ vibrators can do the job if you need something a bit better than your hands, but you may have to step up for the good intense shit or a fancy vibrating dildo or something. Try different kink stuff you imagine or do or watch like self-ties for bondage or hypno kink audio files* or whatever, try some 'foreplay' (touch your tits or somesuch). Some people like anal also. Figure out what feels nice -what puts you in that tense shivery-hot coiled-spring sorta feeling- and do that- dont just do what you think you 'should' do.

/* For safety prelisten to these in chunks or look at a script to be sure its what you want and always keep scissors near you if you are self-tying to get free if there is issues, do kink safety right dont stick anything up your ass you could lose, etc etc

Finally, some people just cant cum for whatever reason (meds, trauma, etc) and thats ok. So long as you are enjoying the sensation and having fun, you are masturbating 'correctly'.

--