#i hope he’s taking care of himself and i hope he knows he’s allowed as much time to process as he needs

[tillsfan]

a dive into Till’s feelings regarding Ivan and Mizi!

ivantill’s whole thing is being INSANELY complicated. i am a full on believer that they have mutual (unrealized) feelings, but i think the word “love” is definitely too vague to properly describe what they have. vivinos said a “deep LOVE/HATE” relationship for a reason.

i think till both genuinely feeling love for ivan yet hating him at the same time is absolutely reasonable. ivan has pushed and pulled till his whole life. till never felt secure near ivan, as much as he cares about him. but, ivan was always there. till felt comfort with ivan’s presence despite the lack of security he gave. till heavily valued ivan’s opinion, getting upset when ivan implied he didn’t see till as a friend. he trusted ivan enough to attempt to run away with him, and he potentially would have spent the rest of his life with ivan if they actually escaped.

i while love mutual love ivantill as much as the next guy, saying their feelings were 100% romantic is wrong. their emotions towards one another being so raw is something that defines them, which is why it’s difficult to put their mutual feelings into a specific box.

another thing we need to take into account is that neither of them know what love really is. they inhabit a world that isn’t MEANT for humans to love. they were never taught what love is and how to feel it. this is part of the reason they could never develop properly. they live in a world where the concept of romance and relationships aren’t properly established between humans.

but, i do believe like they could’ve had a chance under different circumstances. they were a slowburn that was never able to properly develop because, again, they lived in a world that didn’t allow them to, and they both ruined things for themselves. ivan had a huge tendency to self sabotage because of his severely low self esteem. he convinced himself that his feelings were shallow, and projected that onto till through his actions, confusing and distressing the latter. in addition, till was avoidant of the reality in front of him, ivan. due to till feeling such a lack of security with ivan, and never being able to understand ivan, he avoided intimacy with him altogether. till also just has a fear of intimacy in general. there was a significant amount of miscommunication between both parties.

in addition, saying that till didn’t love mizi is just. false. he dedicated all of his life to her, she was literally his muse. he loved her in his own way, even if he had to put her on a pedestal to do so. yes, he didn’t know anything about her as a person, but that doesn’t mean his feelings weren’t real. saying he never truly loved her undermines so much of his character.

mizi was till’s coping mechanism, yes. he adored her from a distance. he liked the idea of her and not her as an individual, but that doesn’t make his feelings any less real. he loved and cared for her. we saw how torn he was after mizi disappeared in round 5. he almost DIED because of his grief, before ivan ‘saved’ him. his feelings towards her were as authentic as they could be for someone who kept everyone at a distance.

while you could say till’s love for mizi isn’t inherently romantic, the same can be said for ivantill. nothing stated in the patreon confirmed what EXACTLY till felt towards mizi besides her being a fantastical figure to him. and his “love” towards ivan doesn’t HAVE to be romantic (even though i believe it is), it could very much be platonic. vivinos is purposefully vague with what kind of love each character feels because, as i said, feelings aren’t something that can be properly established in this universe.

hope u guys enjoyed my rant Yay 🌹

[radioactiverats]

Thoughts: Nsf/w Ratchet 🌶️ 18+

Ratchet, being a medic, knows the ins and outs of every life form he studies. With humans in the base, he has taken it upon himself to study the human body (his grumbling doesn't fool you, you know he cares).

That being said, as part of his study, he is... adequately acquainted with the erogenous zones of the human form.

There has been something going on between you two for a while. An unspoken understanding, a closeness between the two of you that is different from your relationships to the others. What if? Your anatomy was surprisingly compatible. Ratchet chastises himself for letting his mind wander, and files the information away.

A few rocky misunderstandings and a heartfelt conversation later, you are... together. It's not as earth-shattering as you might think. You fit together like puzzle pieces, anyway - a sense of comfort settles between you both, a cornerstone in your relationship.

Ratchet's not exactly young, and you are mature enough to savour the entire aspect of taking it slow.

Shared kisses, to pressing yourselves together in berth - his warm chassis, hard, angular planes against your soft body as he cradles you to him and kisses you like you're the only thing that matters.

Touching - "I know what I'm doing, you know," Ratchet grumbles, even though you know it's just for show. "You have a perfectly capable medic here." And if that doesn't send a delicious shiver down your spine. He has indeed done his research. The first time he slides a finger into you - even mass displaced, one finger has you arching your back and gasping for breath - "Where is... should be around here... aha," Ratchet mutters, optics fixated on your expression - and you hear the sound of steam venting from his intake as he feels you clench around him, a moan tearing unbidden from your throat.

You agreed to work your way up together - to actual interfacing. With Ratchet's talented servos already having you trembling and on the edge, you deliriously wonder what it would feel like to take his spike.

Ratchet slowly glides his fingers in and out of you - hungrily taking in every gasp, every moan, every time your eyes flutter closed and your back arches in pleasure - chasing more of him, wanting more of him inside you.

"Humans... also have a node," he mutters to himself, and you nearly wail as he finds your sweet spot - Ratchet himself groans when he feels you tighten impossibly around his fingers. Primus, what would you feel like around his spike?

"That's it, sweetspark," he encourages, voice low. "Show me what you look like when you feel good."

He's a billion year old medic - he's seen it all. The idea that you can let go, without fear of embarrassment - when he murmurs to you that you're the most beautiful creature he's ever seen - you finally allow yourself to crash over the edge, face screwed up in pleasure, - and you manage to catch sight of Ratchet fixated intensely on your face, ex-venting heavily, realizing that your pleasure is precisely what he wants to see.

He works you through your release - motions gentling as you whine with overstimulation - yet, somehow, he knows you're not at your limit yet - his fingers continue their gentle ministrations until you're riding the wave again, gentler this time, moaning against his chassis as another release overtakes you.

You want to reciprocate, of course. You may not have the same resources to study cybertronian anatomy, but you hope Ratchet will allow you some hands-on lessons.

[juicebox72664]

Yes, Dazai’s jealous

Dazai was a possessive man, especially of Chuuya, and he wasn’t even trying to hide his glare at the man talking to Chuuya.

They’d been talking for just a little too long.

Sitting just a little too close.

And touching just a little too much.

He wanted to kill the guy; but Chuuya would be mad if he blew the mission; he might make him sleep on the couch.

So he stayed where he was.

That changed very quickly.

It changed the second Chuuya looked uncomfortable.

He knew Chuuya could take care of himself.

He also knew Chuuya would do whatever it took to get the mission done.

So he marched straight over there, interjecting himself into the conversation without hesitation, covering up his distain for the man with a very fake smile; and he’s sure the man knew it was fake because he gave a similar one.

“Sorry; I really must borrow Chuuya for a moment.”

He didn’t miss the glare that Chuuya shot him; this might be the only chance they have to get the intel they needed.

That didn’t stop Dazai from forcibly pulling Chuuya away.

Once they were far enough away from the man, Chuuya pulled wrist away. “What the fuck, Osamu? I had him.” He would be yelling, but he didn’t want to attract attention.

“We can ‘have him’ another way.” Dazai remarks, his jealousy, and not to mention his hatred for the man, lacing his voice.

Chuuya crosses his arms over his chest. “I cannot believe you.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I’m going to try to salvage this.”

Dazai grabs his wrist before he can leave, pulling his back against his chest.

“Osamu.” He says evenly. “Let go.”

Dazai hold only tightens. “I don’t want him around you.” He grumbles.

“I know.” Chuuya turns around in his hold, cupping his face. “I just need to get the information, and when we get home, you can have me all to yourself.”

Dazai groans, but relents, letting Chuuya go. “I expect your full attention.” He pouts.

Chuuya laughs and pecks his lips. “You got it.” Then he turns heel and heads back to the man that Dazai hopes he’ll be allowed to kill after the mission.

[diavolo-is-babygirl]

Diavolo x Male MC Fic: Soft Strokes of Words and Christmas Sweetness

The Devildom palace was unusually quiet for the week before Christmas. Normally, the halls were alive with cheer: crackling fires, the faint scent of cinnamon, and garlands of frost-touched holly. But this year, silence loomed like a storm cloud, heavy and oppressive.

MC wandered the corridor leading to Diavolo’s private study, balancing a tray of tea and pastries. He hesitated before knocking. Diavolo had been avoiding everyone lately, drowning in the weight of royal duties, endless meetings, and preparations for a season that no longer seemed joyful to him.

After a muffled, “Come in,” MC pushed the door open to find Diavolo slumped over his desk. Papers were scattered across the surface, and the once-vibrant demon prince looked utterly drained. His golden eyes, normally so bright with mirth, were dull.

“MC,” Diavolo greeted, his voice strained but polite. “You didn’t have to—”

“I did,” MC interrupted gently, setting the tray on the table. “You’ve been in here all day. You need a break.”

Diavolo exhaled heavily, leaning back in his chair. “I appreciate your concern, but I can’t afford to stop. There’s too much to do. The holiday festival, the council’s demands, ensuring peace with the Celestial Realm and the Human World—” He shook his head. “It’s exhausting, MC.”

MC hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone, you know.”

Diavolo gave a small, humorless chuckle. “That’s the curse of a ruler, isn’t it? Even in the season of joy, I feel… trapped.” Seeing the normally unshakable prince like this tugged at MC’s heart. He hesitated, then placed a hand on Diavolo’s shoulder. “You give so much to everyone else. Let me take care of you for once.”

Diavolo’s eyes widened slightly, surprised by the earnestness in MC’s tone. “MC…”

“Just for tonight,” MC continued, voice soft but firm. “Let’s forget about the festival, the council, and all the rest. I can’t stand seeing you like this, Diavolo.”

For a moment, Diavolo simply stared at him, the weight of his crown momentarily forgotten in the warmth of MC’s touch. Then, he gave a small nod. “Alright. Just for tonight.”

MC smiled, a mix of relief and shyness. “Good. Now, come with me.”

Diavolo allowed himself to be pulled away from his desk and out into the palace gardens. The air was crisp, the stars twinkling brightly overhead. MC had strung up fairy lights earlier, their soft glow casting the space in a warm, golden light.

“This is beautiful,” Diavolo murmured, his voice tinged with awe.

“It reminded me of you,” MC said quietly.

Diavolo turned to him, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Of me?”

MC flushed but held his gaze. “You’re always shining, even when you’re tired. You don’t see it, but you make everything around you brighter, Diavolo. And… I just wanted to give some of that back to you.”

Diavolo’s expression softened, and for the first time in days, a genuine smile graced his lips. “You’re incredible, MC. Truly.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the world around them fading away. Then, almost hesitantly, Diavolo reached out and took MC’s hand in his own.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “Not just for tonight, but for being here—for always being here.”

MC’s heart raced, but he managed a soft smile. “I’ll always be here for you, Diavolo. Always.”

As the fairy lights flickered above them, Diavolo leaned closer, his golden eyes locking onto MC’s. The world felt still, the weight of their unspoken feelings hanging in the air. “MC,” Diavolo murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the reason I still find hope in all of this.”

And in that moment, the burdens of the Devildom seemed to fade, leaving only the warmth of their connection under the starry sky.

[space-mermaid-writing]

I would love some more alpha Stephen and omega Tony in the Wild West au (I think it’s Wild West?)

It's definitely a Wild West au I'm stoked that you like it enough to ask for more. Here's another part I came up with last night. This is the longest part so far.

Ko-fi | Masterlist | Word count: 1.7k | Part 1 | Part 2

A weak heart

Stephen urged Levi to speed up, gripping his leather doctor bag tightly to prevent it from slipping off the saddle. The strong and intelligent stallion understood the urgency of the moment and held back on his usual playful behavior. They had one destination: Stark’s Ranch, and they needed to get there quickly.

When one of Stark’s men arrived at Stephen’s ranch and told him the mayor’s son had fainted and they needed a doctor, Stephen had dropped everything and hurried off. He had outdistanced the messenger on the way. It didn’t matter, he knew the way.

He just hoped to get there in time.

Stark’s Ranch was huge. A large gate, marked with Stephen’s name, welcomed him. He rode through it and followed the path leading to the main house. Along the way, he passed numerous horses, cattle, and workers. He ignored the curious looks from those around him.

Howard Stark was not only the wealthiest man in town but in all of western Nebraska, and it showed.

When Stephen reached the house, he pulled Levi to a sudden stop and dismounted swiftly, his doctor bag in hand. He tossed the reins to a stable boy who was nearby. The boy would know how to take care of Levi. Stephen felt a pang of regret that he could not tend to his horse himself, but this was an emergency.

In long strides he rushed to the front door, which flew open. He was greeted by a woman of the house staff, urgency in her voice.

“Doctor Strange, heaven sent, you came quickly. Please follow me.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and led him through a maze of narrow corridors until they arrived in a small reception room with only one other door. The mayor stood in front of a single window, turning to Stephen when he entered.

“Ah, Doctor Strange.”

Stark’s handshake was firm and his words filled with the authority of a man with power. Though, there was an edge to it, as if he was masking nervousness.

“I came as quickly as I could.” Stephen replied, keeping his tone steady. Years of experience with patients had taught him the value of a neutral expression. He needed to focus. They needed a doctor, not a worried… friend.

This man didn’t even know he was a worried friend. If he knew, he would grab that colt from his belt and shoot Stephen right there and then.

“Where is he?” Stephen heard himself ask.

Stark pointed to the other door. “I had him taken to his room so that he could rest. It’s been so long since his weak heart had given us trouble. I hoped he was over it.”

Everybody knew about Tony Stark’s weak heart. It was an open secret, spread with speculation. They said his condition was one of the reasons why the mayor was so overprotective of his omega son. Stephen had heard the stories, though this was the first time his service as a doctor was needed because of that.

Howard had his hand on the door handle, when Stephen’s voice held him back. “Please.” He met the mayor's gaze.. “You’re upset and nervous. If you go in now, it could make things worse for your son. Let me check on him first.”

Yes, that was true. But also Stephen didn’t know if he could keep it together when he saw Tony. He couldn’t risk Stark noticing something.

When the older man hesitated, he added, “If it’s really his heart, we need to be cautious."

It was a complicated situation. Stephen was an alpha, and it was generally unacceptable for him to be alone with an unbound omega like Tony. His relationship with Howard Stark was formal but distant, typical of a doctor and a mayor. They didn’t share familiarity. Yet, Stephen's reputation as a man of integrity seemed to reassure Stark. After a moment's hesitation, he finally nodded and stepped back, allowing Stephen to act.

“That is very considerate of you. Be quick with your check up.”

Finally, Stephen stepped into Tony’s room, deliberately closing the door behind him to ensure privacy. The moment he entered, a familiar scent enveloped him. It was the comforting scent of the omega, filling the space without being overpowering. It felt like he had walked into a field blooming with his favorite flowers, soothing and welcoming.

The room was furnished with dark wood pieces of high quality. A sturdy desk stood against one wall, alongside a well-crafted drawer. In the center of the space loomed a four-poster bed, its elegant design adding a touch of sophistication. The side curtains were drawn, causing Stephen to carefully navigate around it. “Tony?” He kept his voice low to not disturb him if he was resting.

He braced himself for anything.

As soon as Tony spotted him, he put the book aside and sat up. A bright smile broke across his face, full of warmth. “Doc! You came!”

Stephen furrowed his brows lightly, because – admittedly – this didn’t look like an emergency. Still, he asked, “How are you feeling?” He perched himself on the edge of Tony's mattress, adopting the familiar posture of a doctor checking on a patient – and nothing else, right?

He took Tony's wrist to feel the pulse. It was normal, maybe slightly elevated. But nothing unusual.

“I’m great, now that you’re here,” Tony said, and oh that flirtatious smile was dangerous. The omega moved closer to Stephen, who was still confused.

“I was told you passed out and fell off the stairs.”

Maybe Tony had hit his head too hard. He must have, because Tony admitted with a cheeky grin, “Well, I had to get you here somehow.”

Stephen’s mouth hung open as his brain figured out what Tony was saying. “You threw yourself down stairs to see me?!” he asked, flabbergasted. He struggled to keep his voice down, acutely aware that the mayor was likely in the next room, possibly eavesdropping.

Tony brushed it off with a tsk. “Please, it was barely a step. I just played it up a bit.” The omega shifted into a dramatic tone to give Stephen a piece of performance. “Oh, I don’t feel so good. Why is everything spinning?” He play-fainted and dropped back onto the mattress. Then, with a big grin, he sat up again. “It was way too easy. I’m a genius.”

Stephen’s mouth still hung open. He closed it the same time his eyes darkened. “Have you lost your brain and replaced it with horseshit?” he growled. Tony gaped in offense, but Stephen wasn’t done yet. “Do you think this is funny? You had your father worried sick. You had me worried sick. I thought you were dying!”

Anger was written in his face. Stephen’s hands clenched the sheets, desperately seeking something to hold onto as he struggled to contain his emotions. He knew he couldn’t raise his voice too much. Not in this house, where he had to hide the affection he felt in his heart.

Tony realized he had gone too far. He had never seen the alpha so angry. He bit his lower lip. This hadn’t been part of his plan.

In a sudden burst of instinct, he reached out, cupping Stephen’s face with his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you,” he said, his voice softening. As he pressed their foreheads together, he moved closer, kneeling amid the messy blanket that lay between them.

Stephen closed his eyes instinctively on the contact, inhaling Tony’s scent. He wanted to remain angry, to express just how recklessly Tony had acted. Yet, here he was, powerless against the calming presence of the omega in front of him.

Tony was here, and he was fine. There wasn’t an emergency.

Stephen knew what they did was dangerous. If anyone came through that door, they would catch him. The doctor wasn’t allowed to touch the omega like that.

Tony’s hands were warm and grounded him.

Technically, Stephen was being touched. His only crime was that he did not put up any resistance.

“Don’t do that ever again.” Stephen’s voice was a whisper against the omega’s forbidden lips. They were so close.

Yet, Stephen knew he wouldn’t dare to bridge the gap, to take that step. So far he had followed Tony’s lead, and he would continue to do so. He would give the omega anything he wanted. No less. No more.

Tony’s fingers brushed over his cheek and through his hair. Stephen leaned into the touch, his heart swelling with this simple gesture. The truth was: he was the one with a weak heart. And there was no cure.

Tony pulled back, but his hand searched for Stephen’s and grasped it. “How am I supposed to see you then?” the omega asked, his voice so earnest that Stephen thought, maybe it wasn’t just a game for him.

“I thought you were a genius. Figure it out.”

Tony’s smile returned, brightening the entire room once more. The omega recognized Stephen’s words for what they were: a challenge. And he thrived on challenges.

“I will.”

____________________

As Stephen stepped out of Tony's room, he found Howard waiting for him. The mayor's face showed a mix of impatience and concern.

“How bad is it, doctor?” he asked without beating around the bush.

“Not as bad as we thought,” Stephen replied, offering reassurance, and the mayor let out a sigh of relief. “You should make sure he is eating healthy. Meat and vegetables.” There was no harm in Stephen taking the opportunity to make sure the omega was treated well and took care of himself.

Before leaving Tony, Stephen had taken a moment to examine him. He could not bear the thought of something happening to Tony due to his own carelessness. Tony had put up with it without a word, even seemed secretly delighted about it.

The results were reassuring: Tony was a healthy young man.

“His heart needs simple exercises,” the doctor continued. “He should take walks everyday.”

“Won’t that strain his heart?”

“On the contrary, it will strengthen it in the long run.”

Tony was not the kind of omega meant to be confined. He needed freedom, as much as possible within the limits of their world.

Stark nodded, accepting the doctor’s assessment.

Despite knowing he should feel guilty for deceiving Howard, Stephen felt little shame. In fact, he felt a rush of thrill as he added, “I would like to check on him again in a few days. Just to make sure.”

This was a dangerous path he was stepping on. Yet, he hid a smile when Stark answered, “Be my guest.”

[moo-blogging]

Hello moo! I hope youre doing good

Can you please please write a Levi smut where he takes the virginity of the reader ? And He’s not a virgin

Warning: SMUT SMUT SMUT

Levi doesn't have any oversized T shirts. You go through his clothes again carefully, making sure you don't make a mess in his closet. In the end, you pull his white shirt from the hanger and throw it over your head. Just like the movies you watched, you leave the top three buttons open and walk into the living room.

Levi is on his phone, sitting on the sofa. It is pouring outside. You were both caught in the rain and he suggested for you to get dry at his place. Levi has always been respectful. He knows you are still a virgin and not ready for it yet. He came clean to you before you started dating, telling you that he wasn't a virgin anymore. He even waits for you in the living room despite you have been together for some time now.

But seeing you in his shirt, your dark undergarments visible beneath the thin material, Levi clicks his phone off and shifts his position. "You are playing in danger waters, my love," Levi bites his lower lip.

You tip toe toward him, his eyes never leaving your body. "Well..." you slip in between his thighs and whisper, "good thing I know you'll catch me.."

Levi wraps his arms around your body. You could feel his body warmth seeps through his shirt onto your skin. He kisses your nape, "baby, I will eat you right up because you're so tempting."

You turn toward him and tug his shirt, "I'm ready, Levi." You look at him with determination. You want to give yourself to him tonight. Levi stops for a moment, searching for any sign of doubt in your eyes but finds none. He presses his face into yours and kisses your lips. He carries you into the bedroom and gently lowers you onto the bed.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his abs. You nod, unbottoning your shirt too. Levi peels his pants off, leaving himself in his undergarment. He kneels between your thighs and lowers himself to you, kissing your lips. Your stomach is bubbling with something you couldn't quite understand but doesn't want it to stop. Your heart is beating so fast you are sure Levi could hear it.

Levi's hands explore your body. He unbuckles your bra with one quick snap and his palms are now on your boobs. You moan into his lips. He pulls away slightly, allowing you to breathe. Levi studies you as he massages your boobs. Your nipples are hard and you are so turned on right now you unknowingly rubbed your lower part to Levi's abs.

Levi chuckles as he watches you lose yourself. Levi kisses your lips deep and soft, "I'll make sure you're well taken care of, Y/n. You'll have the best time of your life."

Levi trails down your chin toward in between your breasts, kissing and sucking softly. His lips so gently on your skin, leaving hot breath with every touch. He licks your left nipple. An electric shock washes over you. Your breaths deepen as he sucks your nipple. His tongue goes in circles, his saliva warm and wet on your sensitive skin.

You thought you were at the edge but suddenly, you feel a gentle touch between your legs. You clench your inside involuntarily and your knees fold together, trapping Levi in. Levi chuckles against your skin. He pulls himself away from your nipple, and kisses your lips. You're moaning too much.

"You're wet, Y/n," Levi whispers to you in a lusty voice you never heard of. His thumb is rubbing on the wet fabric between your legs. You blush under his touch. "Feeling good like this?" He nibbles your ear lobe. You weakly exhale a "yes". Levi laughs and kisses the side of your face hard.

He pulls himself up and peels your panties off. You are very self aware of your body in this total nakedness. Levi sees your shyness and pulls his hardened member out. You blush harder at the size of his penis.

"I'll make you feel even better, princess." Rubbing the tip on your opening, you feel pleasure and nervous. "I'm pushing it in now," Levi says as he pushes the tip in. You didn't realise you had been clenching your walls, but his tip slices through easily as you are wet and he had rubbed his precum on your opening.

You throw your head back, screaming as you feel a sharp pain.levi stops moving immediately and massages the side of your legs. You are panting as you. adjust to his size, squeezing and releasing your walls. Levi leans in and kisses your sweaty forehead. "Are you okay, love? Do you want me to keep going?" Levi's palm find yours and your fingers interlace. You nod, "go slow please."

Levi pushes himself into you slowly. The pain and the pleasure come so strong. Your head is blank and all you could do is screaming Levi's name again and again. Your walls are pulsing involuntarily, somehow wanting him in and somehow wanting him out. Levi let out a groan. You watch his face twisted with emotions. He is panting too.

You lower your gaze and see your bodies have now become one. Levi is entirely inside of you. "It's in, baby," Levi kisses your lips, "you're taking me so good. You're so tight, baby."

But you know Levi is controlling himself not to go rough on you. His thighs are shaking from the pleasure and self contorl of not banging himself into you.

"Do it, Levi," you wrap your arms around his neck. "Do it like how you did before."

"Bu-" before he could protest, you kiss his lips. Levi lifts your right leg over his shoulder and starts rocking his hips. You break the kiss and throw your head back, taking in his length between your legs. Your toes curl as you endure the pain wrapped in pleasure. How could you want it to stop and keep going at the same time?

Levi spreads your legs wide, stretching your hole to take more of him. You tighten your hip muscles, involuntarily lifting your hips. Levi moans as your walls tighten around his cock. He places his palms on your pelvic areas and massages your sore hole (his cock still in it) with his thumbs. He purrs, "relax, baby, relax..." His thumb idly brushing over your bean, and your hips spasm. He moves his thumbs lower, carrasing the muscles of your opening and your butt cheeks.

"Y/n, my love," he leans in and kisses your face, "relax yourself, and I'll make you cum soon." He folds your knees to your chest as he hugs you. His soft words leading you as he steadily rocks his hips. You feel him moving in and out of you, his tip thrusting into your ceiling with every push, and your hips move with his movement. Uncontrollable moans and cries slip for your lips and dance with the sound of wet slaps of bodies. Tears of pleasure and pain well in your eyes. Levi watches you trying to stay with him as your eyes keep rolling to the back of your head. He gently bites the side of your neck to keep you with him.

"Are you ready, my love?" Lovingly, Levi cups your face and turns you toward him. You are flushed. You swallow and nod. "Good girl," he kisses your lips, cutting your main source of oxygen as he fucks you hard.

Your fingers dig into his biceps, and your knees squeeze his torso while your inner thighs shake. The hotness between your legs, deep within your body sends pleasure to every cell, and then, a sudden wave of unknown bliss washes over you. Your body is drained. You feel a sense of satisfaction as your inside bobbed. Your head is empty.

Levi curses under his breath as he feels your hot cum around his cock. "That's my girl, Y/n. You cummed for me, baby." He sucks the side of your lips. You grin at his comments. You love it when he takes control. Levi kisses your temple, "I'm going to cum too, my love, give me a moment."

You run your fingers into his hair, and whisper, "cum in me." Levi chuckles, "you are too high on pleasure, my love. I'll make you pregnant if I cum in you." "Please," you beg, "I want you to cum in me."

"Next time, love. Next time I'll cum until you overflow. 'Cos I wanna fuck you more after this."

And Levi pushes himself up. His pace quickens and his thrusts deeper than before. His palms grabbing on your boobs, making you feel pain and pleasure from his grip. He groans with every slam. Your legs are waggling limply as Levi fucks you. You let out a cry of pleasure when you cum again, your walls squeezes itself and that wave of bliss washes over you, taking more of your energy with it.

"Fuck!" Levi curses as he pulls out suddenly. He pumps his wet penis with his fist and hot, white liquid shoots from his tip and lands on your tummy. Levi hovers over you, with one arm supporting himself up. You both are panting for air. Your hole squeezes and releases itself, now unfamiliar with the extended size and absence of Levi's penis in you.

Levi pulls his shirt from the floor and wipes his seed from your tummy. He crashes beside you and throws the stained shirt away before pulling you into his arms. He kisses your forehead, your nose and finally your mouth.

"How's it, my love?" He wipes your hair from your sweaty forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore..." you moan. "Tired..."

Levi kisses your face again, "I'll get the bath ready. You have to wash after we have sex."

"Make love," you swallow. "We made love." Because you feel that way. You feel closer to Levi than you did before.

Levi smirks. He cups your face with his big palm, "yes, we made love. We just made love to each other," and he kisses your lips again.

[bullet-prooflove]

Heya! May I request "Running on two or three hours of sleep" for Jamie Dutton?

(My Yellowstone blog is "Stupidyellowstoneshitposts, by the way. Just so you can see I'm active😝)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @kcloveswrestling @dakotapaigelove @noxytopy @chaostwinsofdestruction

Companion piece to:

Break Free - Jamie decides it's time to break free from Yellowstone.

Colorado - Jamie takes off to Colorado for a break after John's betrayal.

Enough - Jamie questions his self worth.

Jamie’s already on his third cup of coffee by the time you awaken. He hears your light footsteps padding across the hardwood floor and looks up to see you standing there in the doorway of the kitchen, the blanket from the bed draped over your shoulders to ward off the chill in the Colardo air.

“How bad is it?” You ask gesturing at the phone clasped between his hands.

He swallows hard as he sets the device down at the breakfast island, pushing it away from him with his fingertips. It’s been a week since he’s looked at his phone, he’d locked it away in the glove compartment of your car when the two of you first took off to Colardo and hadn’t retrieved it until the early hours of this morning because he couldn’t sleep. The two of you are returning to Montana today and he’d wanted to see what he was coming back to.

“Over 100 missed calls, a dozen voice mails and some texts.” He tells you as he rubs his palm across his chin in agitation. There’s dark stubble starting to blossom across his jaw, something you’ve never seen before because he’s always been forced to play the role of the clean cut lawyer. It’s a sign that he’s changing, that he’s starting to work things out for himself.

“Have you been through them?” You ask him as you take up residence on the stool alongside him, shifting the blanket so it covers your bare legs. You’re wearing one of his shirts and a pair of blank panties, both of which aren’t conducive to the cool mountain air. Jamie gets up and moves to the thermostat, altering the temperature before he answers your question.

“I started to but…” He trails off, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

But it’s overwhelming, you know. Jamie’s departure from Bozemen had thrown a spanner in the works for a lot of people and their clambering for his attention, trying to draw him back, trying to manipulate him. Your man, he’s in a very vulnerable position right now, his life is in flux, his identity shaken, he’s trying to find his own way in the world, the one that allows him to live his own life, one not in the service of others.

“Let me help.” You say picking up the phone and scrolling through it. It’s a jumble of notifications. You decide to dismiss the calls and delete the voicemails as they’re all reactionary and Jamie doesn’t need his father growling in his ear about his disappointed he is.

You work through the texts as Jamie starts to heap teaspoons of coffee into the French press, waiting for the kettle to boil.

“Bullshit, bullshit, Beth, bullshit, bullshit. A nice one from Kayce, we’ll save for later.” You murmur as you get rid of the blatant disregard for Jamie and focus on the more important ones.

You set the phone back down on the worktop, your mission completed as Jamie returns to you, a freshly brewed mug of coffee in his hand. You take him from it gratefully, rising it to your lips to take a sip as he sits down alongside you.

“Thank you for all of this.” He says softly, his voice filled with sincerity. “For seeing I needed to get out of town and take a breath and for dealing with that.” He indicates to the phone.

He looks down at his hands, his thumb chasing over the brown leather strap of the watch you got him for his birthday.

“I’ve never been with someone who could see the real me, who understands me the way that you do.”

The women before you, they never wanted him, not really. They wanted the prestige of his political career, the hope of his inheritance. He has none of that now and still you’re here, taking care of him, protecting him.

“Jamie.” You say tenderly, capturing his hand in yours, fingers entwining. “That’s what you do when you love somebody, you try to help them when their struggling, you support them because they’re your person and you want them to be happy.”

Jamie tips his head up to meet your eyes. They’ve always been such a vivid shade of blue. Sometimes they’re as tempestuous as the ocean, others as calm as a clear sky on a sunny day. Right now they’re ambient, collected and resolved.

“I don’t know what the future looks like Dani.” Jamie tells you as he raises your hand to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the knuckles. “But whatever it is, I’m glad you’re here, that it’s something we can move forward with together.” 

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[fandombymanynames]

some season 7 thoughts mostly focusing around the disaster that was Runaan's second trip to Katolis...

buckle up lads, it's gonna be a long one

First of all, do i think Ezran was wrong for locking up Runaan?

absolutely not

This kid just had his entire kingdom burn down and is now staring at the man who killed his dad seemingly but that's another matter. He's allowed to be pissed, and he's well within his rights to arrest Runaan. I was honestly shocked he was the ONLY one acting upset. I thought for sure the second Soren saw Runaan that he'd be drawing steel, since if I remember correctly (and i could totally be wrong, it's been a while since i watched it thru from the beginning, so have mercy), Soren actually fought Runaan while trying to defend Harrow??

So Ezran's actions are not what bother me about the whole plot point. What bothers me is that this is only happening now??? Like, I'm not even convinced Ezran fully knew who Runaan was other than the assassin that killed his dad. Did Rayla ever tell him that's her dad and I just forgot? Did Callum ever tell him 'hey we're trying to free Rayla's dad (the man that killed our dad) from his coin prison that Viren put him in, just a heads up so you can digest that'? That seems like a massive thing to just spring on a person when you've been planning it for several seasons at this point. Couldn't have written him a letter even... smh

And then on top of that...they bring Runaan to Katolis like absolute dumbasses. Like if you're not going to have the decency to warn your brother that you're planning to break Rayla's dad out of coin jail, the least you could do is just let Ezran keep his blissful ignorance and peace on the matter. It was just an objectively stupid move from all three of them (Callum, Rayla, and yes Runaan himself like wait outside my dude). As the saying goes, play stupid games win stupid prizes. Naturally you bring the guy who killed the king to the kingdom...he's gonna get thrown in jail, and it was all perfectly avoidable if they rubbed even two brain cells together.

okay maybe that was a little mean, but it was a stupid thing to do and i hope we can all agree on that.

but it's what happened so we move on to the next domino in this disaster: rayla breaking runaan out.

Was I all for it?

Yes. Let me be very clear, Runaan is my favorite and he and Ethari's reunion was literally the only thing i cared about this season

Was it ALSO a stupid as hell thing to do?

YES

Like you didn't even wait for night?! You're MOONSHADOW ELVES! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS IN BROAD DAYLIGHT????

I wanted to strangle someone.

The only good thing, imo, is that she did tell Callum ahead of time. That's growth! She knew what she felt she needed to do and let him know. And very critically, she did not want him involved because she knew this was going to hurt Ezran and didn't want to put Callum in a position to directly pick her over his brother. It is so clear that Ezran is in turmoil and he deserves to have his brother there with him. Callum SHOULD have stayed with his brother, but they had to be stupid and stage a prison break in broad daylight like absolute bafoons. I just...it's so dumb.

I get that the idea is to not keep Ethari waiting 'one minute longer' than needed, but come on guys. You can still race back to the Silvergrove while taking reasonable precautions to ensure you actually make it back to Ethari alive. I think he'd prefer that actually.

It just all felt contrived for drama, at the cost of characters acting reasonably intelligent especially my man Runaan who's a fully grown adult and should have known better than just walk into Katolis, ffs man critical thinking skills

What's my take away from this long mess? That this should have been a building conflict within our original trio starting from the moment Rayla got the coins and understood what they were. Ezran should have been involved in the discussions on freeing Rayla's parents, especially Runaan. If that's too much to ask for, we should have atleast seen some conflict out of Callum on the matter (Harrow was his dad too). It's a fumbled arc in my opinion, thru and thru

but hey that's just me, just needed to put some thoughts to paper as it were. hopefully this mess makes sense

[writingtraumaforever]

Uncontrolled Chaos: Chapter 31

Notes: SAW THE MOVIE! Left a full review (spoiler (optional) and spoiler free) on my page! Hope you all enjoy it as much as I did!

Summary: Sonic and Shadow deal with their ‘distress’.

UC Masterpost!

Link to my AO3!

Start:

“Damnit!” Shadow hisses, having Sonic pressed against a wall for support with his arm around the blue hedgehog’s waist, “What the hell were you thinking???”

Sonic just smirks and grits his teeth through the pain, winking at Shadow as he speaks, “I was thinking I was fighting with my Shadow. Forgot you don’t really fight the same as him..”

Shadow groans a bit at this, rolling his eyes in frustration as he looks at the bots coming down the halls of Eggman’s base. He narrowly got himself and Sonic away from that bigger bot without the blue hedgehog receiving more injury than he already has. He needed to get that emerald and get out of there!

“Stay here,” Shadow demands with a pointed look at the hero, “I’ll clear the way.”

Sonic just huffs at this, leaning a bit more insistently against the wall as Shadow carefully lets go of him to step back, “Where would I go??”

Shadow doesn’t even acknowledge that with an answer, simply rolling his eyes with an irritated shake of his head as he looks towards the incoming bots.

It doesn’t take much for him to wipe them out. A few blasts of the chaos spear and some air kicks and spindashes, and it’s cleared. Shadow turns back to Sonic then who has steadily made his way towards Shadow by scooting along the wall.

“I told you to stay put,” Shadow gruffs out, eyes narrowed at Sonic as he returns to him to allow the hedgehog to use him as a crutch.

“Got bored,” Sonic shrugs, leaning into Shadow as they limp down the hall towards where the emerald is being kept.

Shadow’s eyes look down at Sonic’s leg. More specifically, his thigh. The blue fur there is matted up with deep, red blood. Black scabs already are trying to form due to the air hitting the wound, but Shadow knows good and well it’ll need medical attention before it can close up. Unless they can get this emerald.. then they can use it to heal him. Hopefully.

Making it to the sealed door, he lets Sonic prop against the wall again as he deals with the security lock, typing in whatever it is hackers type in just like in movies because that’s definitely how hacking works mhm.

Sonic watches him. How tense he is, how rushed. He’s breathing heavy..

He holds up his wrist watch to read “Amy’s” vitals, seeing Shadow’s heart rate has indeed spiked rapidly. Sonic looks back to him again.

His eyes aren’t glowing.. there’s no red sparks flickering in the air around him.

He seems pretty in control of his emotions despite them being a bit more panicked currently..

“..You shouldn’t have sent out that distress signal,” Sonic says after a moment, “Gonna have everyone worried—“

“Quiet,” Shadow snaps, “I’m trying to think.”

Sonic snorts and rolls his eyes, looking down at his wound and examining the damage.

That Chaos Spear packs quite a punch..

Glancing down the hall to see if Eggman has followed with his big bot yet, he sees the coast is still clear and looks back to Shadow.

Shifting on his leg a bit uncomfortably, he swallows the pain and speaks again, “You ‘bout done??”

“I said quiet,” Shadow grits out, growling a bit this time to which Sonic smirks slightly and just watches him continuing typing on the security pad.

“Why so tense, Shads—“

“Don’t call me that.”

“—if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were worried.”

Shadow’s eyes glance to Sonic at that, narrowed and angered. Then down to his wound. Then back to the pad.

He’s not just worried, he’s guilty. He feels responsible. Sonic just sighs a bit at that, still offering a casual smile as to not let Shadow see how much it hurts, “I shouldn’t have jumped in the way. It’s just that when my Shadow and I train together, he has this move with his chaos spear where—“

“Do you ever shut up???” Shadow hisses, not really caring to hear any of this right now. He just wants to get that emerald and get Sonic back to the workshop.

Sonic huffs at this, “I was just trying to say it wasn’t your fault—“

“Finally,” Shadow breathes to himself when the doors hiss and slide open. And just in time, too. They hear the loud, distant thumping of robotic footsteps from down the hall.

“Oh hedgehogs! Come out, come out wherever you are!” Eggman’s voice coos through the speakers, Sage’s following after.

“They have accessed the emerald vault, Father.”

“What?! Sunnyside! Get them!!”

Shadow’s wide eyes dart down the hall to see the robot turning the corner for them, already firing to which Shadow quickly shifts his body around Sonic’s to absorb any hits that may land. Arms and legs outstretched and pressed against the wall on either side of him as Sonic stares up at him with wide eyes.

“Go!” Shadow grits, beginning to feel his barriers fall as the blasts get more and more powerful.

That’s the thing with them. Their chaotic abilities allow them to take a good brunt of hits so long as they have ring energy to keep their chaos energy charged up inside. It’s why they can spindash through robots and take hits from lasers and get right back up. But when a blast of chaos energy hits them??? It’s gonna hurt.. which is why Sonic’s thigh is currently split open from Shadow’s chaos blast.

Shadow is all charged up and able to take some hits currently, Sonic is vulnerable.

After blinking out of his brief stupor, Sonic quickly uses the wall to shuffle around the doorway and into the emerald vault. Once Sonic is safe inside, Shadow turns to properly hold off Eggman’s latest creation.

And he has a lot of frustration to get out on that thing.

Sonic makes his way to the control panel of the glass enclosure the emerald is being kept in, typing on the keypad only to have his access denied.

“Damnit,” he whispers to himself.

He can’t spindash through the barrier, currently. He needs the passkey..

As if sensing his distress, Sage appears from the wall behind him.

“You cannot take that,” she says, Sonic flinching and turning to lean back on the control panel and look at Sage.

“Chaos, Sage, you can’t sneak up on a hog like that—“

“Father will be displeased if you escape with the emerald. It is essential to his future plans..”

“Yeah, well, it’s essential to my current plans,” Sonic replies with a smirk, turning back to the control panel, “And I’d sure appreciate it if you helped a pal out.”

“We are not pals,” Sage clarifies, “..But I have scanned your lover.”

Sonic’s eyes widen a bit and turn to Sage at that.

“…He is not yours, is he..?”

“Now what makes you say that??” he smirks, tilting his head slightly.

“He does not move the way yours does,” the AI explains, “Nor does he speak the same..”

It makes sense that she would take notice in this. She’s very observant.. but also, her and Shadow had some sort of… moment back on Starfall Islands. Some sort of talk about family.. losing them. Sacrifice. Being created by a Robotnik. It all seemed to have made Sage respect Shadow a bit more..

Sonic frowns a little at Sage’s words, looking back to control panel as the sound of Shadow’s battle cries and explosions remind him he’s kinda on the clock here, “Yeah, well.. no denying that, huh??”

“Your fighting tactics were thrown off by this. It was very noticeable and resulted in your injury,” she points out, Sonic rolling his eyes at this.

“Yes, Sage, I’m aware—“

“Is the emerald necessary to get back your Shadow??”

Sonic looks back to her at that, eyes watching the AI’s flickering blue ones..

“…yeah.”

Sage looks at Sonic a long moment before she eventually moves to the control panel, “There isn’t much time. Father has reinforcements on the way.” She places her palm flat on the panel and the emerald case immediately opens up, Sonic’s eyes widening and his smile growing.

He doesn’t waste time, moving around the panel and grabbing the emerald before turning back to her with a grateful nod, “Thanks, Sage..”

“Thank me when Shadow is back with his family,” she says simply, Sonic’s smile softening at that before he looks to Shadow and calls,

“Shadow! I got it!”

Shadow glances to Sonic mid-combat, nodding his head in recognition before landing a hard blow on the robot he’s currently battling to make it stumble back for a moment.

Using this opening, he skates to Sonic quickly, Sonic lifting the emerald above his head at this moment.

“Chaos—“

Shadow reaches Sonic.

“—Control!”

They’re zapped out of there with a flash of light..

Knuckles is just rushing out the door when a flash of light stops him in his tracks, shielding his eyes momentarily before lowing his fists to see Shadow standing there with Sonic held bridal style in his arms.

“Sonic!” Knuckles immediately calls, rushing to the two with worry in his eyes, “You okay, buddy??”

Sonic just offers a little smirk, “Yeah, I’m good. Just took a bit of a hit.”

Shadow looks down at his wound, frowning at the sight of it.. he’s lost enough blood as is. They need to get it dealt with.

“The distress call—“ Knuckles frowns, brows knitting up as he looks at Sonic’s gash, “it kinda—“

“Yeah, I know. Didn’t mean to worry you guys, but Shadow over here—“

“No,” Knuckles interrupts, earning Sonic’s attention again with the urgency in his tone, “It—… we had contact with Shadow— our Shadow.”

Sonic’s eyes widen, body tensing immediately as he begins shifting in Shadow’s arms to be put down. Shadow, in fact, does not put him down.

“What?! When?! Is-is he alright?!”

“Yeah, well— we assume he is! His signal was hardly even there, and he couldn’t communicate back, but he let us know he heard our end by temporarily switching his locator on.”

“How long ago was this??”

“Like. Two minutes ago,” Knuckles shrugs, and that’s all it takes. Sonic is squirming his way right out of Shadow’s arms much to Shadow’s annoyance and protesting.

“Would you hold still?! You’re injured—“

“I need to talk to him! What if he saw the distress call?! He’s probably worried sick!”

“You’re not gonna help matters by being hurt! He obviously can’t communicate right now, and I’m sure the fox is working on it,” Shadow argues, now having to simply resort to holding Sonic by his elbows insistently as Sonic tries to pull away, “We need to worry about what we can control, right now, and that’s getting you patched up.”

“I’m fine!” Sonic insists, jerking away from Shadow only to immediately stumble and fall—

Luckily Shadow catches him before he hits the ground, pulling him right back up into his arms to carry,

“You’re not!”

Sonic’s brows are knitted up tight, gritting his teeth at the throbbing pain in his thigh.. not to mention the exhaustion of using chaos control.. his eyes shift to Knuckles who is looking at him worriedly.

“…Come get me the second we have a signal again.”

“I will,” Knuckles assures with a nod.

“Good,” Sonic sighs, looking back to Shadow with a nod towards the house, “Okay. Let’s get this over with so I can get to that communicator..”

Shadow nods, relieved Sonic is actually gonna allow him this rather than fighting him on it.

He needs to fix what he broke.

“I’ll take this to Tails—“

Knuckles reaches for the emerald, but Shadow stops him.

“We need that.”

“For what??”

“Healing,” Shadow says firmly, jerking the emerald away from Sonic’s hand and Knuckles’ reach.

Knuckles frowns at this, “You can’t heal with the emerald.”

“Like hell I can’t,” Shadow snarks back, eyes narrowing at Knuckles.

“Only Sonic can, and his energy isn’t high enough right now—“

“I can,” Shadow insists, in case he didn’t make himself clear.

“You???” Knuckles scoffs, crossing his arms, “But your—… your chaos energy isn’t—“

“Isn’t what??” Shadow snarls, getting tired of his time being wasted while Sonic still sits in his arms bleeding.

Knuckles blinks at him, watching him a moment before speaking, “You’ve done this before??”

“Yes, why would I offer it if I wasn’t experienced in it?? Now if you would excuse me, I’m trying to save the one person here who actually matters!”

And with no real recollection to what he just word vomited out out of rage, Shadow spins around to quickly walk himself and Sonic inside, Knuckles watching with wide and confused eyes.

Sonic blinks up at Shadow once inside, “Uh- Mobius to Shadow—what was that about??”

“He was wasting our time,” Shadow huffs, moving Sonic into the kitchen to set him on the counter carefully, “For people you consider friends, they don’t seem to worried about your wellbeing—“

“Hey, don’t say that,” Sonic warns with a frown, watching as Shadow begins fumbling for a wash cloth under the sink, “They care, they just know I can handle it. You should know that, too—“

“You weren’t hit by a laser, Hedgehog, you were hit by pure chaos energy. It shouldn’t be taken lightly—“

“It’s happened before, and I’ve been fine!” Sonic huffs with a roll of his eyes, “This is ridiculous, I should be in the workshop with Tails right now—“

“Even if that fox gets in contact with your Shadow, do you really think he’d be happy knowing that instead of mending your wound, you’re allowing yourself to bleed freely while crouching over a half-baked communicator??”

Sonic huffs at this, looking away as Shadow wets the cloth and begins cleaning blood off the fur around the wound.

“…How can you heal with the emerald?” Sonic asks now, turning his head to Shadow, “My Shadow can’t do that.”

“Sounds like he’s a sorry excuse of an Ultimate Lifeform then,” Shadow grumbles, focused on cleaning the matted fur so he can properly see the wound.

“He’s not,” Sonic snaps defensively, “He’s the best of us. Of any of us… he just-…”

Shadow glances up to Sonic when he doesn’t finish his words, seeing the blue hedgehog now looking out the window in thought.

Shadow sighs through his nose and looks back to the wound, “…Would all this talk of your Shadow not being able to heal be because of whatever happened with the Black Arms..?”

Sonic tenses immediately.

That alone is enough answer for Shadow.

“…You said you defeated them.. the Black Arms,” Sonic says after a long pause, Shadow having cleaned up most of the fur around the wound and now working on cleaning the actual wound itself. Sonic hisses a bit in discomfort but his mind is too distracted to be further bothered by it than that.

“I did,” Shadow nods, eyes glancing up to Sonic before back to the wound.

“…’I’. As in alone..?”

“Sort of,” Shadow says with a small shrug, “There was help along the way, I suppose… but when it came down to it, it was myself and Doom.. and I put an end to it for good.”

“How?”

“…Well, I used chaos control to move the Black Comet in the Eclipse Canon’s line of fire. It was destroyed.. I never faced any of the Black Arms again until the Time Eater incident..”

Sonic’s brows knit a bit at that, looking down a moment before back to Shadow, “…Where was I during all this?? Your me, I mean..”

“Helping GUN,” he explained with a small shrug, “You and your friends had your own plans to help save the planet. In the end, it was futile since Black Doom used mind control to freeze you all in place.. I was immune due to having his blood in my DNA.”

“…That’s not what happened at all here..”

Shadow glances up to Sonic at that, seeing how the hedgehog’s ears are drooped and there’s a frown on his muzzle..

It’s an odd sight. To see the hero so.. confused and almost defeated in appearance..

“…I’m going to heal you now,” Shadow says quietly, hand resting over Sonic’s wound while the other moves to hold the chaos emerald, “This may feel odd..”

Sonic just nods and allows the process, eyes watching out the window at the ARK in the sky..

[bloody-bee-tea]

24 Days of MHA 2024 Day 21 - Fucking bullshit

Shouta just bundled himself up in his sleeping bag, ready to sleep the break away, with Hizashi’s soft humming in his ear when it knocks on the door to the teacher’s lounge.

Shouta cracks one eye open because with his luck it’s going to be one of his problem children who started the apocalypse or something but he lets Hizashi get up to open the door.

He did not expect Shinsou to be on the other side.

“Hey, kiddo,” Hizashi greets him. “What’s up?”

Shouta watches how Shinsou wrings his hands in front of his chest, how his eyes dart all over the place and he starts extracting himself from the warm cocoon of his sleeping bag. This will not be over quick, even though he never expected Shinsou to be one of his problem kids.

He had hoped that starting out in Gen Ed saved the boy from that particular curse but clearly he was wrong.

“I need your help,” Shinsou finally mutters and Hizashi looks back at Shouta, who waves him in.

“Come here, kid. What is it?” Shouta says, his voice rougher than usual because he was just falling asleep but he’d never send one of his kids away and especially not Shinsou and most certainly not after he so plainly asked for help.

“I—” More hand-wringing, more eyes darting all over the place and Shouta wonders what the kid could have possibly done to be this worried. “I really need your help.”

“And you have it,” Hizashi reassures him because it’s not even a question that they are going to help with whatever it is.

But they need to know what it is, first.

“Tell us what’s going on,” Shouta encourages him and Shinsou takes a deep breath, which does clearly nothing to relax him.

“My foster mother, she’ll be going to the police later to accuse me of using my quirk against her husband. I really—with my quirk, it’s not going to go over well and I really need help.”

There’s a lot to unpack in that short explanation but for now Shouta and Hizashi only share a look before they nod.

“Of course,” Hizashi then says and pats Shinsou’s shoulder.

“Did you?” Shouta asks, because he has to and because the police will, too, but he can admit that the betrayed look Shinsou gives him hurts. “You will be asked that, a lot. So better get used to it now.”

“I didn’t,” Shinsou whispers out, because of course he didn’t, he would never, Shouta knows that but clearly the foster mother has it out for him if she’s going to accuse him of that.

“Why would she think you do?”

“My foster father’s started to act cagey around her so of course I’m the first to be blamed.”

That’s rather disturbing, really, if Shouta thinks too hard about that.

“Do you know why he’s acting like that?” Shouta doesn’t have much hope for an answer here but to his surprise Shinsou nods.

“He thinks I’m stupid and I’m not allowed to talk at home, so he isn’t as careful around me. He’s having an affair.”

More things Shouta files away to inspect at a later date, but it’s really not painting a good picture for Shinsou’s living situation.

“Oh, boy,” Hizashi sighs out. “And I’m guessing if you were to expose that then both of them would accuse you of using your quirk on him,” he mutters, and Shinsou nods.

“I just—when the police sees my quirk they’ll believe her. I know they will because—”

“It happened before,” Shouta finishes for him when Shinsou seems lost for words and he had always wondered about that smirch on his record.

But of course quirk discrimination is still rampant everywhere and Shinsou has already confided in them that he’s been called a villain most of his life. It’s not a stretch to believe the police wrote him off without a proper investigation and purely based on one statement.

“I’m going to call Tsukauchi,” Shouta decides and gets his phone out, trusting Hizashi to explain who that is to Shinsou as he presses the phone to his ear.

“Eraser, please, no more emergencies with your kids. I’m a detective, not a babysitter,” Tsukauchi greets him and Shouta snorts out a laugh.

“Yeah, welcome to my world. I need a favour.”

“Of course you do,” Tsukauchi sighs out. “What is it?”

Shouta briefly explains the situation to Tsukauchi who lets out another deep sigh.

“What’s his address? I’m guessing his mother went to the nearest police station.”

“Foster mother,” Shouta corrects him because no mother would ever do that and then he relays the question to Shinsou.

“I know someone at the station there,” Tsukauchi says once he has Shinsou’s answer. “Let me check with them real quick and I’ll call you back.”

“Tsukauchi, we need you on that case,” Shouta says because with his quirk it’s easy to prove that Shinsou didn’t do anything wrong.

“I know. I will be. I just need to see if the foster mother already stopped by and what exactly it is she’s accusing him of.” He doesn’t give Shouta time to say anything before he hangs up and Shouta doesn’t fight the urge to roll his eyes as he pockets his phone again.

“Tsukauchi is on it. You’ll be just fine, kid,” Shouta says, and Hizashi must have explained who Tsukauchi is because Shinsou bursts into tears.

“Thank you,” he gets out between his sobs and Shouta shuffles closer to awkwardly press his shoulder to Shinsou’s.

He’s not great with physical comfort but when Shinsou leans heavily into him, he guesses he must have done something right.

“I’ll make some tea,” Hizashi softly says and then signs to Shouta ‘And call CPS’.

Shouta nods, because that is not even a question. They will not allow Shinsou to stay with people who clearly have it out for him and what did they even get their foster licenses for if not this?

“You shouldn’t,” Shinsou mutters and Shouta frowns, because of course they need some tea in this situation but then Shinsou pushes away from him. “They will just move me to a group home because there’s no other family that will want to take me after this. I’d rather stay with them.”

Shouta and Hizashi share a surprised look before Hizashi signs ‘You understand sign?’

“I’ve been muzzled for most of my childhood. Had to learn to communicate somehow,” Shinsou says with a shrug as if that isn’t the most devastating news he could have delivered.

“Shinsou, if your foster mother really is going to accuse you of that, there’s no way we’re letting you go back there,” Shouta tries to explain, but all it serves to do is make Shinsou curl in on himself.

“Kiddo, we’re licensed foster parents,” Hizashi cuts in before Shouta can awkwardly fumble his way around anything else. “You’ll have to be moved after this and we just wanted to make sure you’ll be moved to us.”

“You—can do that?” Shinsou breathes out and Hizashi shrugs.

“We’re already pulling strings with Tsukauchi. What’s one more, right?”

Shinsou turns towards Shouta.

“And you’d—want to?”

“Of course we do, kid,” Shouta says and reaches out to ruffle Shinsou’s hair. “If we had known your situation was that bad we would have brought it up earlier, but we thought you were fine in your current home. We didn’t want to barge in where we’re not wanted.”

“I—nothing about that home is fine,” Shinsou mutters and Hizashi huffs out a breath.

“Yeah, we realise that. But no worries, we’ve got you. By the time this is over, you’ll be staying with us.”

Shouta nods but before he can say anything, his phone rings. Tsukauchi is calling back.

“She already came in and gave her statement. I need Shinsou here to take his statement.” Shouta really appreciates Tsukauchi’s brusque nature and he clasps Shinsou’s shoulder.

“We’ll be by in thirty.”

“You have classes,” Shinsou weakly protests but Shouta doesn’t pay him any mind.

“You or me?” he asks Hizashi who looks between Shinsou and Shouta for a moment.

“You,” he then decides and gives Shinsou a smile. “I’ll just make sure everyone knows not to expect either of you back today.” He gives them his horrendous finger guns but Shouta thinks he can excuse it this one time, because it makes Shinsou smile slightly.

“Alright, kid, off we go then,” Shouta says and pushes Shinsou out of the room.

The ride to the police station is silent, though Shouta spots Shinsou wringing his hands in his lap more than once and he wishes he could tell the kid to stop worrying but he knows that’s not in Shinsou’s nature.

He’s a natural worrier, Shouta came to learn that much during their training and he guesses with what he now knows of Shinsou’s living situation and his childhood it’s only understandable that he second guesses his every move.

When they finally arrive at the station, Tsukauchi is already waiting for them.

“Eraser, Shinsou,” he greets them and then leads them into a conference room almost immediately.

Shouta is thankful that it isn’t an interrogation room because that would have only spooked Shinsou more.

“Alright,” Tsukauchi starts once they are all seated. “Shinsou, your foster mother accused you of using your quirk against your foster father, making him change his behaviour around her. Now, I’ll ask you a bunch of questions and with my quirk Lie Detector we’ll quickly verify if any of that is true, alright?”

Shinsou nods, though he’s still tense and Shouta shuffles a bit closer.

If he can provide at least a little comfort like this, he’ll do it.

“I’ll need verbal answers from here on out, because otherwise my quirk doesn’t work, understood?”

“Yes,” Shinsou mutters and Tsukauchi gets out a dictation device.

“We’ll be recording everything and after every answer you give I’ll state if it’s true or not. Like that, there’s really nothing your foster mother can do and the charge against you will be dropped.”

Tsukauchi just rose several ranks higher in Shouta’s regard, because he doesn’t seem to believe that Shinsou did what his foster mother accused him of and for that Shouta is thankful.

“Okay,” Shinsou says and squares his shoulders as if he’s marching off into battle.

Shouta resigns himself for a passive role in this, because he’s here for moral support and nothing else. Hizashi might have been better for this, but there’s nothing to be done about it now.

“Your foster mother accused you of using your quirk against her husband. Are you aware of that?”

“Yes,” Shinsou gives back. “She told me she would this morning when he slipped out without even looking at her.”

“True. Told you?”

Shinsou winces and Shouta just hopes that Hizashi isn’t too busy with classes to call CPS.

“Screamed at me, more like. She threw a glass at me, too.”

“True. Did you get hurt?”

“Shallow cut on my shoulder.” Shinsou shrugs it off as if it doesn’t mean anything to him, as if that is just a normal occurrence and Shouta feels sick to his stomach to imagine a kid—and especially Shinsou who he may have grown more attached to than he should—in a situation like that.

He makes a mental note to check the kid over later, but he fears that he’s rather adept at first aid by now.

“True. Did you use your quirk on your foster father to make him behave in a certain way?”

Here, Shinsou hesitates and both Shouta and Tsukauchi note it with worry.

“I haven’t used my quirk on Yamamoto,” Shinsou finally says and Shouta holds his breath.

“True.” Tsukauchi hesitates. “Have you ever used your quirk on anyone who was in charge of taking care of you?” he then asks and Shouta feels his eyes flare because what the fuck does this have to do with anything?

“Tsukauchi,” Shouta warningly says but Tsukauchi doesn’t back down.

“I have to ask this.”

“Fucking bullshit,” Shouta spits out even as Shinsou shrinks deeper into his chair. “This has nothing to do with anything.”

“You know how this is going to look,” Tsukauchi gives back, just as heated. “We won’t be the only  ones who noticed this clarification. It’s not a good look and if this gets brought up later, someone can spin it around. Better to get it out now.”

Shouta hates that Tsukauchi has a point and it doesn’t help that Shinsou is deathly pale right now.

Shouta and Tsukauchi glare at each other for a moment before Shouta backs down, dragging his chair over to Shinsou’s until their shoulders touch.

“I’m on your side, kid, no matter what,” Shouta says because even if Shinsou used his quirk on anyone, with what he learned today about his childhood Shouta guesses he was more than justified, even if maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do.

“Shinsou, please answer the question. Have you ever used your quirk on anyone who was in charge of taking care of you?”

“Yes.” Shinsou’s voice is thin and shaky and Shouta startles when a trembling hand clutches his sleeve.

“True,” Tsukauchi says and he sounds decidedly unhappy about it.

“If you do not ask for his reason right now, I’m going to forget myself,” Shouta shortly says and now Tsukauchi looks about as unhappy as he sounds.

“Why did you use your quirk on anyone? To protect yourself?”

“No, I—” Shinsou takes a deep breath or at least tries to because it continues to come out rapid and short. “I never used it to protect myself.”

“True,” Tsukauchi says, now with a frown on his face but Shouta can already guess where this is going.

Of course Shinsou would never do it for himself; for someone else though—the kid wants to be a hero. Of course he’d try to protect someone else.

“What did you use your quirk for?”

Shinsou curls in on himself, and Shouta can’t help himself, he puts his arm around Shinsou and pulls him close.

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

Shinsou struggles to breathe for a moment before he basically slumps against Shouta.

“I—there was—in a previous family,” he haltingly starts. “The foster father there—he—” Shinsou cuts himself off and Shouta sees him gripping his own arm so tightly his fingers turn white. “I had a little sister there,” Shinsou finally gets out and Shouta goes cold with horror.

He’s worked enough years as an underground hero to understand where this is going and judging by Tsukauchi’s suddenly pale face he knows it, too.

“It—it took me a while to realise but once I did I—whenever he told us to go to sleep, I told him the same. It worked, for a while, until I fucked up and he realised. He kept me muzzled after that and—”

Shinsou breaks off with a sob and Shouta tightens his arm around him.

“True,” Tsukauchi finally says, because he has to, but Shouta still hates him for it. “How old were you? What was his name?”

It’s unthinkable, imagining what that guy could still be doing right now but Shinsou shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter,” he gets out between his tears. “One night she—he’s paralyzed from the neck down and she’s dead.”

Shouta lets out his own shuddering breath and wonders if the kid ever went to therapy. With all the things Shouta learned today, he thinks it’s no longer optional, really.

“True,” Tsukauchi mutters and then stops the recording before he nods at Shouta and takes his leave with a muttered “I’ll take care of it.”

“I’m sorry, Shinsou,” Shouta says, because what else is there to say and Shinsou continues to cry, pressed close to Shouta.

“I just—I just wanted to protect her,” he eventually cries out and Shouta hums.

“I know. And you did the best you could,” he reassures him, because Shinsou did and he suffered for it, too.

Shinsou eventually calms down and once he does he seems worn out, completely drained of the little energy he usually has.

“What now?” he wants to ask and Shouta shrugs.

“Now I’m going to text Hizashi and then I’m going to take you home.”

“Home. Back to—them?”

“No,” Shouta denies immediately because there is no way he’s letting Shinsou back there. Who knows what that woman is going to do when she learns that her complaint has been brushed off. “I’m taking you home with me.”

Shouta trusts that Tsukauchi will have the necessary paperwork ready for him by the time they leave and Shouta gets his phone out to text Hizashi as well.

‘If the CPS gives you trouble burn it to the ground’ he types and immediately receives a thumb up emoji. ‘And ask Hound Dog if he has time to take on Shinsou or if he knows a therapist who could.’

‘That bad?’

‘Worse’, Shouta texts back and he will explain everything to Hizashi later but this is not something to be done over text. ‘I’m taking him home’.

‘You do that. Tell the little listener to get some rest’, Hizashi writes back and Shouta relays the message to Shinsou.

“I feel as if I could sleep for days now,” Shinsou admits and it must be a novel feeling for Shinsou, going by the eyebags.

“Then let’s do that,” Shouta decides and leads them out of the conference room.

Tsukauchi is waiting for them with the necessary paperwork that puts Shinsou in his preliminary care until the CPS can make it official and just like that they are out of the station and on their way home.

Shouta doubts that things will be easy and he is under no illusion that they only just scratched the surface of all the traumatic shit Shinsou went through until now, but he is safe with them now and Shouta and Hizashi will do their best to give Shinsou the loving home he deserves.

[dykedvonte]

I think it’s so ironic that the Pony Express escapes a lot if not all blame in discussion. I can’t even say I am excused from it but it’s just how hard people circle back to the characters alone without considering the environment they were made to be in.

Why would they design a ship where only two of the rooms lock? Not the bathroom? Not the sleeping quarters? We assume that all the companies in the universe are this shallow and careless to their workers but we explicitly know the Pony Express in extra vile. They are fed processed slop pack they can’t even really cook and the ration of those pack is meager at best. They hired and made people with a plethora of conflicting demeanors and beliefs work together on a mission where cohesion is important if not an outright necessity and punish them for not being happy about it. There’s no social protocols, not chain of command other than Captain’s word/choice and the only way to enforce that is with a literal firearm. They don’t allow them to celebrate freely and even took away leisure activities that would make them less stir crazy. They are only allowed a few hours of sleep despite their being no other real responsibilities or work on the ship, no matter the position or its importance. With any crew, with any level of synergy, this was a powder keg waiting for a spark.

I’m not saying characters that made mistakes didn’t make huge ones, but I think part of the horror is that at least for some (this is targeting Jimathan) those mistakes are partly made by a force of the hand. There’s a running theme of lack of choice and being forced into something and the very nature of how The Pony Express expected them to function plays a big part.

[muffingnf]

forever thinking about how nothing will be the same as before this situation and george won't be the same ever again. i just hope he will take of his mental health after this, no matter what it takes, even if it means he will be far more distanced

anon this is seriously making me suicidal

on a real note i mostly worry about how this will impact his ability to form connections and make relationships with other people. like imagine feeling too cautious to go near non-ccs because oh god what if theyre a secret fan or what if they put something online and ‘expose’ me. but then u can’t go near fellow cc’s either because you cannot tell who has genuine intentions and who just wants to fuck you over later down the line. and none of this is even shit fans like me should even be thinking about i cannot stress enough how none of this should’ve been public and i feel so fucking bad for him that he’s had to be so publicly vulnerable after being so private his whole career.

on another note i suppose dnf will be trauma bonded for life now

[sluckythewizard]

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

[sskk-manifesto]

(´･ᴗ･ ` )

[s0dium]

Stalker

A/n: I hope you enjoy

Warning: Stalker!Gojo, dub con, fingering, pussy drunk Gojo, unprotected sex, peeping tom, male masturbation, breeding

As the strongest sorcerer alive, Gojo Satoru knows he should be the epitome of justice, the defender of what's right. So out of all people Gojo Satoru should know that what he is doing is wrong. Very wrong.

Yet despite this he cant help but be drawn to you, linger around you, stalk you. He finds himself drawn to the places you frequent, learning the rhythm of your life, memorizing the small details that make you, you. The coffee shop where you start your morning, the park bench where you read during your lunch break, the dimly lit street you walk down on your way home. In his mind, a narrative builds—a story where he is a part of your world, where his presence matters to you as much as yours has inexplicably come to matter to him.

For a time, Gojo convinces himself that he can be satisfied merely as a shadow in your life, lingering on the periphery, unseen yet ever-present. But as each day passes, witnessing your coworker's blatant glances towards you, Jesus, the short skimpy clothes you wear, the delicate balance begins to fracture. The urge to step out from the shadows and into the light is starting to grow to hard to resist.

The tension reaches its crescendo one evening as he watches from your window—a routine that has become his dark solace. You're preparing for bed, the familiar motions shadowed in the dim light. As you slip under the covers, a sudden sound pierces the silence: moans, soft and whining, drift through the air.

Are you, touching yourself?

Gojo freezes, his heart stuck in his throat. He doesnt know what to do. The sound of your moans cuts through the stillness, sending his heart into a frantic rhythm and hout blood coursing to his dick.

"Fuck." He groans, feeling his member strain against his black pants. His resolve is slowly snapping by the second. With a mixture of urgency and caution, he silently eases the window open and slips into the room.

Shit shit shit.

He approaches your bed, his breath is held tight in his chest as he takes in the sight before him. Your face is contorted in pleasure, lips slightly parted, a soft pant escaping them—each detail more intoxicating than the last. Under the covers your hand shifts, fingers moving back and forth. His heart hammers against his ribs, disbelief mingling with raw emotion as he realizes you're completely absorbed in your own world, unaware of his presence.

It's not until he looms over you that you finally sense another presence, snapping your eyes open to gasp, "Who are you?"

"Shhh baby I'm not here to hurt you I promise," Gojo whispers, a gentle yet firm assurance in his tone, "I'm here to help you okay? You can call me Satoru."

Confusion flickers across your face as you stammer, "What I don't—" Your instinct is to retreat, but he gently pins you down, his hands firm yet careful.

"It's okay, it's okay, baby," he soothes, his tone meant to calm and reassure you in the soft darkness.

Unsure why, you find yourself yielding to the comforting timbre of his voice, allowing him to press tender, feathery kisses along your chin.

"I'm gonna make you feel better better ok?" He hums and you're too engrossed in the feeling of his kisses on your skin that you barely notice he is pulling your underwear down your legs.

"Wait, i don't, this is-" you stutter but your words melt away as soon as you feel his warm touch on your stomach. Shit, you know you should resist, you know how wrong this is—a stranger in your room, touching you in such an intimate manner. Yet, there he is, devastatingly handsome under the shadowy caress of the night, his piercing blue eyes locking with yours, filled with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. His voice, smooth and soothing, weaves through the thick air, and despite the alarm bells ringing in your mind, you're desperate for the relief he seems to offer.

You sharply gasp when you feel him slide a long finger between the lips of your cunt, collecting your juices before bringing them up to your sensitive clit.

"Already so wet aren't you."

Without a warning, Gojo slips a finger into your gummy walls and curls toward your belly button.

"M'Satoru!" You gasp. The foreign intrusion knocks the wind out of you and your hips instinctively buck into the air, your toe-curling from the sudden pleasure. You dont know it but Gojo is struggling to maintain his composure as well. The reality of your whines, the softness of your insides, surpasses even the wildest of his fantasies.

"This is bad baby, really bad, I don't think I can just touch you here." Gojo chokes out with a groan.

You dumbly nod, too lost in the pleasure to notice the unbuckling of Gojo’s pants. The pressure of his fat tip against your quivering hole is exhilarating and you can’t help but hold your breath as he finally pushes in. You let out a loud moan when you feel his tip smush against your cervix once he gets down to the last inch.

"Ah-Ah ah oh god," Gojo groans. He mentally curses himself that he could ever think his hand could replace the feeling of your cunt. "You feel good baby? Because I feel so good, you feel so good." Gojo is babbling now as he thrusts in and out of you.

You had no strength to answer him, only offering wanton moans in retort as he continued to wreck your body with his completely brutal thrusts. The pain of him hitting the tip of your cervix nearly every time mixed his messy kisses on your mouth made your brain grow light and fuzzy.

Gojo thinks that if there is a heaven, this is surely it. All those times watching you, following you home, fantasizing about this exact moment—none of it prepared him for the overwhelming reality of being inside you, of fucking you. He can practically feel your heartbeat sync with his, the sheer intensity of this connection he had desired since he laid eyes on you made him realize something he never did before; he needs you all to himself. forever.

Gojo uses you like his personal cock sleeve, shapes your insides and bruises your cervix until your entire body jolts with sensitivity; ripping orgasm after orgasm from you. His balls slap against your ass with every drop and he retracts his hips until the tip pokes out to admire the sheen dripping to his base before fitting himself back into your snug walls and spilling ropes upon ropes of cum into your womb

Your body trembled from the overwhelming hotness and he smoothed a hand over your bloating stomach.

“Shhh, take it. Take it all,” he crooned.

[itsoutrageouss]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley being ready to go on his knees for his favorite nurse… but he has no idea how to show it.

Then he sees you at the pub.

It settled inside of him as a feeling of uselessness because he’s so used to knowing what to do. He takes action. He fixes things. And now he gets all flustered when you tend to his wounds, absentmindedly stroking his thigh and talking to him so so sweetly. Calling him a good boy when you finish the stitches, biting your lip as you focused on making them as neat as you could for him. He would stare at you the whole time, his cheeks heating because no one ever showed him this much care and you didn’t even seem to struggle with it- it was all natural.

You had labelled him ‘favorite patient’ in your phone but he didn’t know that. He figured you behaved like that with all the soldiers who came in- the reason you were such a good nurse.

After a well succeeded mission, the task force and the bases Staff all crowd down to the nearest pub. It was an excuse for you to finally be out of your work attire, adorning a black lacy top that made you feel sexy along with your glossy lips. He was already there, leaned back in a booth with Soap and Price as you walk in, looking around nervously.

He has to grit his teeth as he sees you. Fuck fuck fuck. This was gonna be a long night. He fisted his hands beneath the table.

This feeling of hopelessness, of not knowing what to do was so foreign that it bubbled into anger. Price frowned, noticing the rigid way his Lieutenant suddenly sat. Soap was too busy telling some story to notice anything, slamming down a hand, the beers rattling. Your colleagues crowded you into a booth that so conveniently faced him.

Why did he look at you like that? He was positively fuming, glowering, brows lowered and face set. You cowered under his gaze, eyes flickering away nervously.

His lips parted in soft surprise. Why did you look so nervous? Had he done something?

Because of course he was no clue how damn intimidating his so called love stare stare is. He follows you as you walk to the bar, leaning over, your skirt riding up. He has to blink up at the ceiling because it felt simultaneously like a gift from above, being allowed to see you like this, and like a curse from hell.

“Oh he’s down bad for her ain’t he, that fucker?” Soap exclaims, finally catching on as he lets out a hearty laugh. Simon glares.

“I think LT needs another pint” Price muses. Soap, ever the sergent he is, groans and gets up, patting Simon heavily on the shoulder before walking up to the bar next to you.

“You got him weak in the knees, Bunny” Soap grins casually, ordering the pints. It takes you a few seconds to comprehend before you lean backwards slightly, catching Simon’s gaze. This time he averts his eyes immediately. He was fucking fuming inside, not knowing how to get these feelings to go away. The only solutions he could think of were violence or sex. And violence he’s had enough of- and he’s sure the training dummies had too. Every damn night these past days he’s been punching his knuckles bloody, hoping it would satiate his restlessness. It didn’t.

And as for sex… he didn’t- well he didn’t not want that but that’s not where he wanted to start. He always threw himself into hookups or fiery flings that burned out too quickly, leaving embers he didn’t care for. He didn’t want that with you. He wanted to be genuine, slow, proper. And he had no idea how. He didn’t like not being good at things.

Your eyes stay on him, forcing his head to turn back to you. Your expression is unreadable, his fingers curling beneath the table before he rapidly stands up. You almost jolt at the action, the floor creaking from his weight as he stalks over to you and Soap, grumbling something.

Soap leaves, Simon trying to casually lean his elbows on the bar. “Just gonna wait for the pints” he tells you, then his jaw ticks because why did he say that? You probably don’t give a fuck what he’s doing there.

You smile softly, intrigued. “How’s your shoulder?”

It startled him, his head whipping to yours like you said something totally out of sorts. His shoulder? Right— It takes him way too long to answer.

“Fine. You did a good job. As always,” he said gruffly, looking down at the chipped wood of the bar, drumming his fingers impatiently.

“You look good.” The words slip past his lips, eyes quickly giving you a once over.

“I know.” He looks at you, sees a small glint in your eyes and the smile you smother. He wants to groan out loud at the sight.

A dry, almost laugh escapes him, shaking his head softly. “F’course you do.”

There’s a long, awkward silence where you both look anywhere but at each other, spines straightening, then slumping, then you both look at the bartender to keep busy.

He places your drink in front of you, three pints clattering in front of Simon. Neither of you move to take them.

“So I’m gonna go” Simon rumbles and turns, the pints clutched in his hands. He was overheating, fumbling in ever possible way he could and he couldn’t take it. You opened your mouth but he was already halfway across the room.

The pints rattle as he sits down. “So?” Soap asks as he leans forward. Simon grumbled that this isn fucking high school. But it’s not Soap he’s mad at. It’s himself. He had you right there.

You can’t focus the rest of the evening, laughing hollowly and sipping your drink with disinterest. Did he not find you interesting? It was so hard to read him that you started to doubt if he was playing with you. Maybe this was just the way he… was.

You hadn’t noticed everyone going out for a smoke. You hadn’t noticed the way he looked at you through the window like some kind of fucking stalker, only the glow from his cigarette giving colour to his shadow.

You down the rest of your drink, pulling your coat around you. The night is crispy, air poking your cheeks like needles.

“Are you ever going to ask me out? Because if not then I’d like to know- I don’t really know if you don’t like me or if I scare you or if there’s something entirely different at play but you cannot just stare at me and expe-“ a cold, chapped pair of lips silence you. They’re gone as quickly as they came you Simon’s eyes are wide, dropping his cigarette to the ground.

“I’m sorry- do you wanna- can I ask you out? I didn’t mean to do that but you talk a lot” he said bluntly, stuttering his way through his own mortifying actions.

He kissed you. To shut up your mindless yapping he… you shake your head in disbelief.

“You are unbelievable” you say, but there’s absolutely no malice in your tone- only wonder.

“Is that a yes?” He asks, his throat feeling tight.

“Yes. It’s a good technique you have there- do you do that on everyone? Kiss them when they talk too much? I can just imagine how Soap would rea-“

He did it again, eyes closing and inhaling sharply as he covered your cold cheeks with his hands. Christ you were a talker but he didn’t mind so much, if he was allowed to quiet you like this from now on.