#turns out no ! i actually just needed to allow my brain to focus on only one thing at a time

[star-mum]

so I'm back on my weeb bullshit and by that I mean I'm studying japanese again and things !!! are !!! happening !! i can see progress !!!

[loserboysandlithium]

Sexual Healing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Reader faking an orgasm with Eddie because she’s too in her head and her anxiety is through the roof. Eddie notices and helps ground her in a very unique way.

18+ minors dni, explicit sexual content, mentions of anxiety and using the five senses to ground yourself

****

“Did you just... did you just fake it?” Eddie’s eyes go wide as you toss your head back into the pillow with a groan.

“Did it not feel good? Was I doing something wrong?” Eddie asks, his fingers trailing up and down your arm lightly.

“It’s not you, baby.” you sigh, peeking at him through your lashes. “I’m just in my head. Too many thoughts.. I don’t know. I’m sorry baby.” you whisper, embarrassment creeping up quickly.

“You don’t need to be sorry, sweetheart. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?” he presses gently.

“Just too much.” you reply, shutting your eyes once again. You hated when your brain got like this. So many thoughts. So many emotions. Just so fucking much. You just wanted to turn them all off.

You suddenly feel Eddie’s body weight on top of you. An instant calm rushing over you. Not fully quieting the thoughts, but pushing them further away. You open your eyes to see his deep brown ones looking at you carefully.

“Stay right here. Don’t move!” he grins before jumping off of you. Your body feels empty again, the bad thoughts clawing their way back in immediately. You just want to scream at them to shut up. You can feel the bubbles in your chest building and building like a soda bottle that’s been shaken up, just waiting to explode.

You hear something in the distance. You know it’s Eddie’s record player but it sounds so far away, your thoughts louder than anything else in this moment.

The lights shut off, only the flicker of a candle illuminating the room. And then you feel him again. His soft skin on yours. The beautiful feeling of his body pressing you into the mattress.

He leans down, his soft lips barely brushing yours before moving to your cheek. Soft kisses until his lips meet your ear. “Close your eyes, sweet girl.” he breathes, his voice soothing and warm.

You allow your eyes to fall shut once again, listening to Eddie’s instructions. “What do you feel baby?” he mumbles into your neck as he continues planting wet kisses up and down.

“Y-your lips.”

“And how does it feel?”

“Feels so good, Eddie.” you breathe, doing your best to focus on the feeling of his lips sucking your soft skin.

“Mmm, and what do you hear?”

“Music… Marvin Gaye. You hate Marvin Gaye, baby.”

“Mhmm, but you don’t.” he chuckles against your lips before kissing you once again.

His kiss is harder this time, his tongue slipping into your mouth, urgent but also very delicate. You focus on his kiss. Feeling his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth, whimpering as he pulls away.

“What do you taste?”

“Weed. Camel blues and… jolly ranchers?” you giggle as he sticks his tongue out, a light blue from the candy coating the entire thing.

“Blue raspberry.” he smiles before he starts to move lower. His lips travel across your breasts, small kisses before his lips wrap around your nipple, gently sucking. You let out a soft moan as you reach out, running your fingers through his curls.

“What do you smell, baby?” he continues his efforts to bring you back to the present moment.

“Pine trees. The candle I bought you for your birthday.” you answer as his lips work even lower.

“Good girl.” Eddie winks up at you, making your stomach flip.

You feel his large hands on the inside of your thighs, pushing your legs apart, pressing a kiss to the top of your pussy. You let out a soft moan in response. You realize you can hear the music now, louder than before. Actually hearing the words.

Oh I can tell you, darling, that it's sexual healing.

“And what do you see, sweetheart?” Eddie soothes, dipping his tongue inside, licking a long stripe from your hole to your clit and back again.

“You baby, only you.” you whimper. Eddie’s plan to ground you had worked perfectly. The only thing on your mind was him. The pleasure you were receiving below.

His lips wrap around your clit, tugging the sensitive bud into his mouth over and over making your moans grow louder.

You grip his curls, shoving his face deeper into your cunt making him moan into you. You can feel how wet you are, all of your worries floating away with every flick of his tongue.

He switches his tempo, taking his time, his tongue seeming to reach every part of you as he laps at your soaked pussy. Long strokes up and down before he’s shoving it as deep as possible making your back arch.

“Yes, baby. Fuck yes.” you encourage him to fuck you with his tongue. His nose brushes against your clit perfectly as he darts his tongue in and out of you. You can feel it twisting and swirling around, being coated with your slick as he watches your pretty face.

You begin bucking your hips, grinding your pussy on his face. His thick fingers dig into your skin as he allows you to use him for your pleasure. “Don’t stop until you cum, baby. Ride my fucking face.” he groans before he’s back between your thighs.

You don’t even know what part of him is inside you at this point, what’s rubbing against your clit so deliciously. His nose, his chin, his tongue. It didn’t matter, it all felt so good.

Your eyes are shut tight as both hands cling to his hair, your hips rutting up against him desperately. Filthy moans and cries pour from your lips as you cover Eddie with your wet pussy.

“Gonna cum.. Eddie I’m gonna cum.” you cry out, feeling his hands on your ass, helping you as you practically hump is face. Eddie’s moans are audible even with his mouth working hard to bring you to your peak.

Your voice cracks, a strangled moan forcing its way from your throat as you feel your body let go. All the built up tension breaking free, leaving your body in a way you didn’t expect.

You hips jolt against Eddie’s face a few more times as he does his best to lap up your cum. You can feel it running down your ass, a sticky sweet mess.

Your back falls back to the bed, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggle to catch your breath. You feel Eddie’s tongue cleaning up your mess, his lips kissing the insides of your thighs before pressing one last kiss to your swollen clit.

“Holy shit.” you giggle as he comes back up to meet your eyes.

“Feel better?” he grins, his face glistening from his job well done.

“So much better.” you breathe, pulling him in for a kiss, tasting yourself all over his tongue. “And thank you, baby.”

“For what?” Eddie murmurs as he buries his face in your neck.

“For always grounding me.”

“I love you, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you so much, Eds.” you smile up at him. “By the way, I’m telling all your friends you fucked me to Marvin Gaye.”

“You wouldn’t.” Eddie gasps dramatically, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Oh but I would.”

[osamucide]

⊹ FOR SURE

RELATIVELY STABLE AND TENTATIVELY ABLE TO SAY FOR CERTAIN WHETHER THIS UNCERTAINTY IS FOR SURE

wc: 2k

cw: sad and probably ooc dazai but he’s my husband so i actually know how he falls apart, pretty straightforward references to anxiety+dissociation, references to self harm+suicidal ideation but nothing graphic, angst+hurt/comfort, dazai cries and then you feed him that's all

reid: a little spur of the moment something i started when i wasn’t feeling so hot a bit ago. ethel cain’s cover of this song has altered the course of my life anyway enjoy me projecting

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

He was quiet when he got home, which is uncharacteristic, unless he’s scheming. But there was no glint in his eyes and no menace behind his grin, only exhaustion. What’s more is there was no downcast expression, no particularly sluggish movement to suggest he was upset; granted, he would regularly go on performing his usual persona even if he was upset. He was always all moving puzzle pieces, all thick mask and mystery.

It’s a good thing you’ve learned to read him so plainly.

You owe it to the little shared space you’re in, wrapped in a blanket on the couch, reading a book of his as he shakes his coat off and tosses it across the small dining table with two chairs side-by-side at it instead of across from one another. Dazai usually hangs his coat up on the rack by the door, slips his shoes off mindlessly and comes to flop his entire body weight on top of you, but tonight he pulls his laces undone and leaves his shoes tucked neatly against the wall, walks by the back of the couch to press a ghostly kiss to the crown of your head, and heads straight to the bathroom, which he locks himself in.

You swallow as you hear the shower start. You had specifically picked out an apartment with a standing shower, no tub, when you moved in with him. You’d emptied it of razors a handful of times and you probably would a handful of times more, and you kept all of both of your medication in your bedside table. Still, you can no longer quite focus on the words in front of you.

So, you flick the television on. A little more noise in your brain helps tune out the shower that’s just that—a shower. He showers, most often, because he’s feeling strange and not because he needs to feel clean. Maybe he needs to feel clean, but not in a way that a shower will allow. He does it anyway. You wait.

When the water turns off and he doesn’t immediately bounce out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, singsonging which leftovers you should heat up for him, you turn the TV volume down a few notches. When it’s been five minutes or so, you find yourself in the kitchen putting day-old bibimbap in the microwave. When it’s been ten, you’re knocking on the door.

"Osamu?" Your voice is soft as your knock. "I waited for you to eat." Dirty trick, you know. But you also know he won’t otherwise; not on a night like this.

You hear a bit of shuffling before the bathroom door creaks open. His eyes are red, his nose flushed, and he’s rubbing his face with the corner of his towel like he’s just awoken from a nap. He’s got no bandages on. He nearly whispers, "You didn’t have to."

"Wanted to." You work the towel from his hands as he turns the light off. He’ll hide behind the darkness if nothing else, but it’s alright; you’ll let him. You pat water from his shoulders before you sling the towel around him like a cape. You whisper back, "I’ll get you clothes. Please get silverware, yes?"

You don’t give him much of a choice, but he’s in a state where he’s pliant enough to listen to corporeal orders. Getting silverware will be a marginally easier task than dressing for him right now.

After pulling a sweatshirt and pair of pajama pants out of your drawers—they’re his, or maybe yours, doesn’t really matter; what does matter is they cover as much skin as possible—you return to him on the couch, two bowls of cooling bibimbap with chopsticks stuck in them on coffee table. He’s got as much of his bare body under the towel as it will allow.

When you set next to him and peel the towel back he looks nearly catatonic. It spurs tears to your lash line, but you hold back. "Arms, please."

He shoves himself into the hoodie, tousling his wet mop of hair in the process, and takes the pants from you, which he stands robotically to step into. When he sits you wrap five fingers across the top of his flannel-clad thigh and press a short kiss to his cheek.

As if sparked by your touch, he curls himself into you.

You’re quick to receive him; you unlock his hands from where they latch behind your neck, gently, like everything else, and you lean back, back, until your head is hitting the pillow you were lounged up against earlier. His fingers scramble for somewhere to land; you will his weight down onto you, his shoulder and hip to tuck beside yours on the inside of the couch, his free arm and leg to sling across your body and his sweet face in the side of your neck. The water from his hair soaks through your shirt. You don’t care. You feel his breath; your fingertips trace circles along his spine, and your outside hand comes to tangle up with his. Eating will have to wait.

You don’t waste time asking if he wants to talk. If he did, he would’ve started by now.

So you focus on his breathing, and how lucky you are to have it ghosting along your collarbone. He’s gray, then white, then gray, then blue in the light of the TV as his thumb moves across the back of your hand, stiff, like it’s just been freed from paralysis.

You wait for his breath to shake; you know it will.

And he knows you know, because he squeezes your hand in a pulsing rhythm like a heartbeat. He hates this. He hates that you've seen him crumble so many times that you know exactly what he needs.

You say it so softly, again, almost a whisper: "I've got you, my love."

He doesn't want you to say it's okay or let it out or talk to me; this is another thing you know very well. He feels like he's floating away from what little sense of self he has to begin with and it's not okay, and he doesn't want to talk about it, he doesn't want to be told when to cry or not, but he does need reminded that you're here, and you're real, and so is he, and so is this thing that both have; you'll grab his ankles and pull him down out of the air. You always do. You always do.

So he cries anyway.

It's like hearing a foreign language leave his mouth. There's something so assured about Dazai even while he believes he's all smoke and mirrors and seeing—hearing—his voice jump between heaving breaths and cracking sobs has always jarred you in some way. Moreover, now that you're so attuned to the way he breaks, it fills you with a tired anger that you can't place on anything concrete. It's a frustration you're glad to shoulder with him, but a frustration no less. You would set fire to everything you could touch, strangle it all to death with your bare hands, if it guaranteed his peace. But you know he wouldn't want that, not anymore; you quell the rage inside you between strands of his hair, fingerpads combing over his scalp with all that anger channeled into love, pure love. For as terrible and rotten as he's convinced he is, he's truly turned you into something softer than you thought yourself capable of being.

You feel his heart racing double-time against yours; you briefly wish you had no chest, no ribs, no physical form to separate you from him, so that your heart could cradle his, give over to his troubled body the time of the breath yours breathes.

He's all jagged edges right now and you're holding him like he's made of cotton. It makes him worse, momentarily, and he tears his hand away from yours; he knows wrapping around you like this, like a boa constrictor around its prey, will make his arms lose feeling but he does it anyway, like he's worried you'll go up in a cloud of dust if he doesn't hold onto you tight enough. He knows it's probably uncomfortable for you, too, laying back on his knotted fingers while he shoves every piece of himself as close as he can get to you, but you don't say anything, don't even make a sound when he hyperventilates into your shoulder and pushes out pathetic whimpers between his stuttering. He knows his face is twisted into that expression he long ago deemed too ugly to look at in the mirror. He gasps like he's underwater, and you just press your cheek to his temple while you lose track of if the wetness on your shoulder is from his hair or his eyes. It doesn't matter. You love him so fucking much.

He weeps against you with his constraint surrendered, loud but muffled by your shirt, at least until whatever movie was on is over. When he finally lifts his head, your eyes flutter open. You hadn't realized you closed them.

You tilt to look at him; the seam of your shirt collar is imprinted into his cheek. His bangs have dried wildly; you push them away from his eyes which are raw with sorrow, and Dazai's hands unclasp from behind you, settling back to how they first were with one curled up into the couch and the other interlaced with yours. He's devastatingly beautiful. You can't help the ghost of the sad smile you wear; it's because he's so gorgeous, and also you want to let him know you're content to be here—not content with what's upset him, not at all, but content to pick him up and help him haul himself forward. He does not reflect the smile back to you. You don't blame him.

"Let's eat." You leave the please unspoken, but it hangs there anyway.

"It's cold," he complains, still distant, but with a glimmer of a pout you think may be him. He's not getting out of it, though.

You sit him up, keep him close to your side and pick up a bowl; it's indeed cold, but you take a bite anyway, as if to show him it's not so bad. When you hold sliced carrot and broccoli to his lips, he looks at you like you're trying to feed him dirt, but opens his mouth anyway.

And it may as well be medicine going down. Not that he particularly cares for reheated and recooled leftover bibimbap, but your fingers being at the other end of the chopsticks makes it appealing. More than appealing. Delightful, even. He never really understood how things like food, music, or art could be healing until he met you and you doodles silly pictures of him on slow Sunday mornings, sang old love songs to him while you shooed him away from the stove as you cooked dinner, fed him leftovers in your shared home, on your shared couch, surrounded by all the things that were both yours and his, sweatshirts, books, blankets, chopsticks alike.

And he tells you that in his own way.

"Heat it up again for me? Please?"

He speaks the plea this time, and you grin—not sad this time, but wholly, as he relights slowly in front of you. And as already established, you'd do anything for him.

"Mhm."

"I love you," he blurts. Tags it on. You stand, gathering both bowls, still grinning.

"I love you." No question about any of it. You press a kiss to the crown of his head. He unfurls the blanket from where you'd slung it over the back of the couch earlier, picking up the remote to flick through the channels, finally breathing steadily as he waits for you to return from the kitchen. Your kitchen, his kitchen. He hears the microwave hum, in another room, not on another planet. He knows he'll be alright.

[picklehater101]

Better Than Me

summary: bestfriend!ellie x reader ~ you flirt with a pretty girl at the party and ellie teaches you a little lesson for doing so

content warning: jealous/possessive ellie, swearing, smut n shii, toxic… just a lil bit…

authors note: i got this idea from the song, better than me by q money. ALSO… i know some people don’t think hard dom ellie is fitting for her character, but i’m writing this anywaysss. NTM ON ME THOUGH!!

this is def not living up to my first post and i actually HATE this, but i need to post something so…

— ✩ —

Ellies body towers over yours as you stand next to the bed, the back of your legs resting against the foot of it. She is pressed into your naked body, her fingers harshly digging into your flushed cheeks as she firmly holds your jaw.

“You like pissin’ me off, hm?” She questions, her light green eyes clouded over with a fiery anger, lust pushing its way through that barrier.

At loss for words, you try to shake your head, although it’s hard as Ellie only tightens her grip on you.

“Thought you’d get away with it, baby?” She tilts her head, running her tongue along her top teeth, “flirting with that girl in front of my fuckin’ face?” Jealousy slipping through her words, entangled with every letter.

You only flirted with that girl in order to get a rise out of Ellie. If anything she deserved it for fucking that random girl the other night whilst you were next door.

It brought you enjoyment toying with Ellie earlier tonight. You loved the way you felt her burning gaze on your body from all the way across the room, you loved how you could look over and her eyes were already on you, following your each and every movement.

She looked so good leaning against the wall, her flannel folded up on her arms- allowing the auburn haired girl to show off her tattoo. Her arms loosely crossed over her chest, her jaw clenched so tightly that her teeth could break from the pressure.

And she looks even better right now in her boxers and sports bra with her strap wrapped around her sharp hips.

It was always fun and games until she brought you home and fucked you numb every time you thought about anyone other than her.

She wanted you all to herself, no matter what she did or how she did things. She wanted you as hers and that was it.

The truth is, neither of you are ready for a relationship and neither of you are willing to jeopardize everything you have to even give it a try in the first place.

She fucked other girls as a distraction, a way to get you out of her head. But it only fueled her fire, she only ever thought about you as she pounded into those other nameless girls.

She only wanted you, but she couldn’t have you the way she wanted, so why not try and focus on something else? Why should she sit around and wait when she could do something better with her time, she often thought.

You guys were always so back and forth, the only normalcy you and Ellie had were coming back to each other in the end no matter what. You both believed you could do whatever you want, and the other would still always be there.

She pushes your face away a bit as she releases you. She looks down at you with daunting, possessive eyes before she nods her head towards the bed behind you.

You immediately obey her silent command, turning around and getting onto her bed. You move yourself closer to the top, near the pillows before you bend over and push your face into it, your ass up and your back arched.

The only noise in the room at the moment is the soft breeze blowing through the open window, Ellie saying nothing. But you can feel the way she’s admiring you, soaking in every little thing about you as you’re in this vulnerable position… just for her.

Fuck… she thought… mine, mine, mine. That’s all she can ever think about, whether you’re with or without her. It’s almost like you own a part of her brain with how much she thinks about you. You’re a scratch she can’t itch and it drives her fucking insane.

She gets up on the bed herself, coming up behind you as she barely brushes against your bare pussy, a soft whine leaving your lips.

She brings her large hands to your hips, grabbing onto the skin there before sliding her hands back to your ass.

She leaves a harsh slap on your right cheek, making you flinch as you moan out at the soft pain that radiates throughout that area.

She does it again, and again, your cunt only getting wetter the more she gropes and grabs at your skin, goosebumps erupting over the entirety of your body.

“Fuck-“ you cry, your ass beginning to feel sore from the marks her hands leave behind. Ellie wants that though, she wants your ass to be so swollen it hurts to sit down, she wants you to recall this memory as you go on throughout the day, she wants you to remember who does this to you.

“When I touch this little pussy of yours, what do you think it’ll be like?” Ellie asks you, already knowing the answer, her words oozing with desire, the idea of roughly fucking into you pumping adrenaline through her veins.

Warm, wet, and tight.

“Wet.” You answer, your brain already beginning to become foggy and short of thought.

“And why’s that?” She questions, condescendence lathering her tone while slapping you again before gently rubbing her hand over the area to conceal the burn.

“Because of you.” You start, “because you make me feel good.” Trying to refrain from rolling your eyes as you go through the process where you give her the answers she already knows, but wants to hear anyways.

“Why else?” She asks, moving her hands back to your hips as she tugs you closer to her, her tip barely brushing past your swollen clit.

“Because I’m a dirty girl. Your dirty girl,” You say, making sure to emphasize the your. You know what she’s playing at, you know what she wants. And by all means, you’ll give it to her.

“Mhm, that’s right. My filthy little whore who can’t ever get enough.” Ellie smirks, finally bringing her fingers down to your pussy.

She runs them through your slit, collecting your arousal before circling your clit a couple of times. She brings them back to your opening, easily pushing her middle and ring finger into you, giving you no time to relax as she moves in and out at a smooth rhythm.

“God, Ellie- shit.” You whimper, closing your eyes as you relish in the feeling of her rough finger pads brushing against your slick walls.

“Fuck, baby. So fuckin’ perfect.” Ellie groans, picking up her pace a bit, loving the way you feel so tight around her fingers.

She begins to curl them up into you, hitting that sweet spot that makes you cry out at the pleasure rushing through you.

“Please.” You beg, desperate to feel her cock buried inside you. “Please, Els. I need you.” Throaty moans continuously leave your lips as she works her fingers into you.

“I have to get you ready for me, sweet girl.” She whispers, entranced by the wetness coating her digits. She wants to stretch you even more, adding a third finger into you which has you clenching around her.

“‘M always ready for you.” You plead, nudging your hips back, willing to do whatever just to feel her.

“Always so fucking needy.” She chuckles, only going faster as she ignores your pleas for her to fuck you.

That one of a kind feeling begins to linger in your stomach, slowly starting to bubble up. “Fuck- I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop. P-Please,” You whine, your cheek pressed into the comforter.

“Make a mess on my fingers, baby. Be the dirty little slut I know you are and cum all over them. I want it.” She guides you, only moving faster, hitting that one spongey spot every time she pushes into you.

The ache held in your stomach bursts, your orgasm running through you like water down a river, your mouth open but nothing managing to escape as your limbs feel tingly and warm.

“That’s it, angel.” She coaxs, still moving in and out of you, allowing you ride it all the way out.

She eventually slows down, taking them out of you, bringing her wet fingers to her lips without a second thought. Her tongue lapping around them, sucking your arousal off of them, her moans muffled.

“So damn sweet, ‘s like heaven on my tongue.” She whines, holding back from completely having her way with you and making you ride her face ‘til you pass out.

“Wanna taste?” She asks, her blown out eyes dragging up and down your body.

You nod your head, as to which Ellie takes one of her hands and wraps your hair around it before tugging your head back. You grunt at the pleasurable sting brought to your scalp.

She bends over, her front brought to your back as her head comes beside yours. You turn your own a bit, your eyes meeting hers as you giddily smile, waves of happiness coursing through your body.

She presses her lips to yours, greedily claiming your own, allowing you to taste yourself on her tongue as she slips it into your open, wanting mouth.

You moan into the kiss, deepening it, desperate for more. Your tongues glide together effortlessly, the feeling of her plump lips on yours only making your pussy throb for more.

“Please, please, please, Ellie. I’m begging you.” You pull back to complain, your low eyes meeting hers again. A cocky smirk is plastered on her face at the sound of your whiny voice causing her to pull back, coming behind you.

She huffs out of her nose, “look at you… bent over and ready for me to use you as I please.” She starts, “It’s ‘cause you’re a desperate, needy fuckin’ slut, hm?” She questions, wrapping her fingers around your hips, slowly inching closer to you in a teasing manner.

All you can do is moan, your brain focused on the singular thought of having her cock buried deep inside you. It’s all you want. It’s all you fucking need.

“Isn’t that right, beautiful?” She speaks up again, wanting to hear the sound of your voice waltz through her ears- the voice she’s utterly obsessed.

“Mhm- yeah, so fucking needy. P-Please, Els?” You ask again, arching your back even more, pushing your ass against her once again.

Ellie removes one of her hands, grabbing her cock as she runs her tip throughout your slick, earning a moan from you. She then slams into you, her pelvis meeting your ass before you even have time to process her being inside of you.

You suck in a sharp breath as a loud moan crawls it’s way up your throat, “fuck!” You scream, screwing your eyes shut as you fist the material beneath you.

You immediately accommodate to her size, your walls contracting around her, a mix of pain and pleasure shooting through your body due to the stretch your pussy feels.

“Jesus, baby.” Ellie moans, “no matter how many times I fuck this pretty little pussy of yours, you’re always so damn tight. Can barely fuckin’ move.” She whispers, digging her fingers into your hips.

She slowly drags her own out, the only thing left in you is her tip before she roughly shoves herself into you again. Doing this over and over again, her darkened eyes infatuated with the site of her cock disappearing into you with each thrust.

You bury your head into the bed, trying your best to stifle the loud screams and uncontrollable moans that slip past your lips.

That only frustrates Ellie more and dares her to pound into you harder as she slaps your ass, speaking from behind you, “don’t cover your mouth. I wanna hear all those pretty noises of yours. I want the fucking neighbors to hear who fucks you this good.”

You immediately lift your head nodding in compliance as you push your hips back onto her, meeting her thrusts, causing Ellie to groan.

She continues her movements, trying her best to push into you deeper and harder each and every time. Your body jolting beneath hers because of the forcefulness.

“You’re taking me so well, sweet girl.” She grunts, her nails ripping into the flesh of your skin. “Always so fuckin’ needy for my cock.”

You moan in response, clenching around her. Ellie continues to look down, watching as the both of you connect. Your pussy drenching her strap, the sound of skin slapping on skin and wet pussy filling the room.

“Tell me you’re mine.” She starts, her voice trembling as she speaks, the base of her strap rubbing against her clothed, puffy clit as she moves into you. “Tell me I’m the only one that has ever fucked you this good… the only person who gets to have this cunt.”

"Yes, baby. Only you. Only your cock makes me feel this fucking g-good. I'm only yours." You moan, finding it hard to speak.

“Yeah? Not that stupid bitch from the party? You know she’ll never treat you this good, angel. I’m gonna be the only fucking person that has you like this.” She mumbles, desperate to hear your voice console her tampered thoughts.

“A breathless fucking mess. I’m gonna be the one that has you absolutely ruined every single time. Only me. Not her. Not anyone else, you understand me?” She grits through her clenched teeth, jealously taking complete control of her. “I fucking own this pussy.”

You moan out at her demanding rant while Ellie repeats the same action as earlier, coming over your back, her cock pushing even deeper into you. As she leans forward, she tightly fists your hair once again, pulling tightly knowing you get off on it. Tears brimming your eyes at the pace she’s going at.

"You're so deep I can feel you in my stomach, Els," you cry, “oh god, it hurts so good."

Your jaw is slack as your moans are stuck in your raw throat. She presses her lips into your splotchy, damp cheek, tasting the salty tears that are now running down your face.

Ellie only goes harder and faster, thrusting into you relentlessly as she grins into your skin. She wants you to cum so hard that you see stars and your head spins.

And that’s exactly what happens as your second orgasm builds up in your stomach. “S-Shit… I’m gonna cum again, Ellie, plea-“ you huff out, “please don’t stop.” You plead, your orgasm on the brink of spilling over.

And so she continues moving the exact same way she was, wanting to get you there as much as you want yourself to. At that, your orgasm washes over you, your mind going blank while that warm feeling floods your body once again.

Your legs begin to shake as labored breaths leave your mouth, your chest heaving, desperate to pull in any oxygen.

Just as it finally passes over you, you expect her to let up, but she doesn’t. She continues fucking into you, causing more tears to fall from your eyes.

“Ellie- I can’t. Fuck, I can’t…” You mumble, your brain and body scrambled and dizzy. All you know is that you’re too sensitive and over stimulated to continue, your body already weak and shaky.

“Too fucking bad. Shut up and take it like the good girl I know you can be.” She whispers into your ear, finally pulling away, although the grip she has on your hair remains.

“I can’t.” You whimper, shaking your head as you push yourself into the bed, almost like you’re trying to escape from her. It feels so damn good, but hurts at the same time.

“C’mon, baby, please?” She asks, “just one more? I want it so fucking bad.” She begs, softening up a little but by no means stopping.

You whine at the feeling of her tip brushing past your cervix with each and every movement, the knot in your stomach only getting tighter, building up faster than before because of your sensitivity.

You meet her hips again, trying your best even though it’s hard with how weak you are. Ellie groans at the sight, “atta girl. Just a little more, you can take it.”

After a little while longer, she snakes her hand around to your front, her fingers circling your clit.

“Ellie!” You yell, your muscles tensing as her fingers are fast but soft against you. “Oh my god. ‘M so close.” You moan, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at pleasure being brought to your body.

And it’s all because of me, Ellie thought.

“I know, baby, I know. Let it go and give it to me.” Her angelic voice guides you towards another orgasm.

At the same time her own movements begin to falter, Ellie finding it hard to hold her orgasm back any longer. She quickens her pace with both her hips and her fingers and moments later you fall apart beneath her once more.

Your ears begin to ring as that hot white flash shoots through your body for the third time tonight, you falling completely limp as you can no longer hold yourself up, Ellie being the only thing that is balancing you.

The same thing happens to Ellie as her movements stutter against you. Her loud moans bouncing off the walls. “S-Shit, see what you do to me?” Butterflies release in your stomach at the sound of her weak, desperate voice, completely different from how it’s been all night.

“Fuckk.” She groans, throwing her head back as she tries her best to catch her breath, her hands still pressed into your skin.

“Christ.” You mutter, feeling like you’re floating as she finally stills in you. You let out a heavy breath, relaxing into her, your cunt throbbing as your cum drips down your thighs and her cock, Ellies confined in her boxers.

“I’m gonna pull out, m’kay?” She warns you, wanting to make sure you’re aware.

You nod your head, softly closing your eyes as she slowly removes herself from you. You wince at the slight discomfort, but it’s nothing you aren’t use to.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, catching your hips before you completely fall into the bed. She softly flips you around, you groaning out at the soreness you feel pang through you.

Your eyes finally meet hers again, her face relaxed and droopy, a weak smile tugging at her lips as she stares down at your sweaty, fragile body.

“Such a pretty mess.” She states, running her calloused hands over your soft curves. “Did s’good for me, baby.” She whispers, leaning down to press a kiss onto your forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You barely move your head, humming out in response as you softly return her smile, feeling content and woozy, completely drunk on sex.

Ellie is right and will always be right. Only she can make you feel this good. And you only want it to be her anyways.

— ✩ —

[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 8

Hey guys!! We have reached the actual training part of the story. It's only taken us (looks up at the number in the title) oh about seven chapters. If I get anything wrong, send me a DM or an ask and I'll be happy to change it. No comments please. Thank you!

In this Eddie is a show off, Robin is a good best friend and Steve finds Eddie really hot.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

~

Eddie is led to a small room off the side of the two large pools. He had never been in here before, Murray preferring to clean it himself because it was so tricky and Eddie wasn’t going to be there long enough to need to know it.

He looked around. It was the same sea green and blue everything in the pool area was. And in the middle there was 8x15 ft. rectangle that had a large metal cover.

Steve went over to the wall and pressed a button. The metal cover slid off to reveal a pool about five feet deep. It really didn’t look that special.

Then Steve pressed another button and pool roared to life. Gone was the smooth surface, replaced by now churning waves. He hit the button again and waves sped up. And again and again. Eddie was entranced. Then the waves cut off and slowly the water stilled.

“Holy shit!” Eddie cried. “That was fucking cool!” He knelt by the pool and then swung his feet in. “So how does it work?”

“Show off,” Robin huffed at Steve and pulled up a chair next to the pool. “Just pretend I’m not here. I have to watch you guys because I’m the assistant coach or whatever, but Steve doesn’t need my help here. Not really.”

Steve came over and sat next to him, splashing his feet a little. “Basically there are jets that cause a current that you can swim against. The different speeds allow you to set how much you want to swim against. It’s really good for building endurance and stamina.”

He slipped all the way into the pool. “Why don’t you turn it on to three and I’ll show you?”

Eddie jumped up to just that, excited to see Steve swim for the first time in person. Robin got up to show him how to work it and then sat back down, pulling a book out of the pocket of the jacket she wore over her swimsuit.

He slowly turned the dial, watching as the water came up to speed. Then Steve started swimming. And immediately Eddie could see the difference in how Steve moved through the water than from how he did it.

He licked his lips as he watched this beautiful man slice the water like an otter. He wasn’t sure how long time passed, but far too soon, Steve was standing up and wiping the water from his face.

“Turn it to one,” Steve said, “and then come on in. I’m betting you’ll need it sped up but let’s ease you into it.”

Eddie went to go do as he was told and the eased himself into the pool next to Steve.

“All right,” Steve said, “just start swimming.”

“Just keep swimming,” Eddie sang and then did the little hum. He dived into the water and started swimming.

“I’m going to touch you,” Steve warned, “to help correct your stroke. I don’t want to startle you.”

Eddie tried not to tense up when Steve straightened his stomach, but it was hard. But thankfully Steve just chuckled.

“Ticklish,” he teased. “Good to know.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, grateful Steve couldn’t see his face. That was not why he tensed up. Was he ticklish? That was debatable. His friends and Uncle said yes, he absolutely was not. He just was sensitive. Which also wasn’t what the issue was here.

No, no, no. It was that hot guy, gold medalist, and absolute sweetheart Steve Harrington was touching him and his black Speedo left very little to the imagination. A boner would be more than an inconvenience, it would be a fucking nightmare.

But thankfully his brain had other things to focus on, like how by just adjusting his core, his strokes were stronger but took less energy.

“We won’t focus on types of strokes yet,” Steve was saying when his brain finally came back online, “just on building up your strength. Then after that we’ll see where your abilities lie. What events to you compete in in middle school?”

Eddie turned on his back and immediately kept swimming. He turned his head and winked at Steve.

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Show off!” he teased.

Robin snorted from the sideline and he stuck his tongue out at her.

“You have really good form for the backstroke,” he said turning back to Eddie, “and I’m going to assume that’s because your middle school coach only taught you how to do one thing well, instead of teaching you everything and then letting your natural talent decide where you fit best.”

Eddie got to his feet with ease as it wasn’t going that fast and wiped his face down. “You’ve got that right. But then he was dealing with twenty kids all screaming at him, so I really don’t blame him on that one.”

“Fair enough,” Steve said ruefully with wry smile. “At least you didn’t have two coaches butting heads all the time on what was the best technique, so...”

“Wait, really?” Eddie said, stopping from ringing out his hair in shock. “You had two coaches?”

Steve hummed. “Yeah. Technically three if you include middle and high school coaches but only two at a time. My private coach that my dad had me see when I was twelve and then my school coaches. They never could agree on what the best form was. So I made up my own. I did what felt right for my body. Both my high school coach and private coach tried to take credit for my gold medal by the way.”

Eddie resumed ringing out his hair. “Yeah, that tracks. So you graduate high school and prepare to take the swimming world by storm and then tragedy strikes, I bet they were positively sobbing for the cameras.”

Steve’s smile was bitter. “Right in one.”

“Everyone kept talking like he was dead,” Robin growled, “and not just that he had gotten hurt. I would’ve sued their asses, but Steve is nicer than me.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at him, but he just shrugged. “I didn’t need the money and I certainly didn’t want the attention.”

“Yeah, okay that’s fair,” Eddie replied with a smile.

They keep working on Eddie’s stamina, slowly building up the speed of the pool, the more he swam the more strength he showed.

Steve looked up at the clock. “Well shit, we actually ran past time. So let’s hit the showers and get all this chlorine off of us.”

Eddie nodded and followed him to the dressing room, once they were all dressed and cleaned up they ran into a grinning Joyce. She had two boxes in her hands.

“One for each of you,” she said brightly, handing them their packages.

Steve and Eddie shared a glance but dug into their boxes. Steve managed to get his open first. He lifted the top item. It was a blue polo. He handed the box to Robin to hold so he could unfold it.

There in black thread lined with silver embroidered on the back was the name Harrington. His coach’s polo.

“There are four polos and a coaches jacket,” Joyce explained. “Every ‘team’ has a set of colors to compete under. Team Harrington will be black and silver.”

Eddie finally managed to get his box open while Joyce talked. Inside his box were four caps and Speedos, as well as two pairs of goggles. He picked up one of the caps and in silver was his last name Munson in bold letters.

“The program covers all equipment, too,” Joyce said with sly smile. “You lose anything or want something different, let me know we’ll get it for you. At first it might take a bit, but if you start winning...”

Eddie huffed, “Then suddenly all the doors open and the sponsors start piling in. I getcha.”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Joyce said.

“I got my own coaching polos too!” Robin said excitedly. “I didn’t get a fancy jacket though.” She pouted.

Joyce laughed. “When you be come head coach then you’ll get the shiny coach’s jacket.”

Robin still pouted but she was ignored. Steve and Eddie both thanked her for the gifts.

“It’s nothing,” she said, waving her hand. “I’m just glad they were able to come today, I was worried it might not get here until next week.”

They all bid her goodbye and walked out to the parking lot, where there were only two cars now. Steve’s rust red Bimmer and Eddie’s van. It looked older than he was. But he could tell Eddie was proud of it as he sauntered up to it.

“Other than than the jerkfaces,” Eddie said, opening the door to his van and jumping up on the step to swing on the door, “today was a good day. I feel really stretched out in a good way.”

Steve laughed. “Well I’m glad the gaggle of snobs didn’t turn you off. You’re already three steps ahead of the game as far as coaching you goes. You have good habits and better form. It won’t take long for you to get into competition shape.”

Eddie nodded, swinging back and forth on the door, like Gene Kelly in ‘Singing in the Rain’. “But the Olympics, man? That’s top tier shit.”

“From what I saw today,” Robin said, “yeah, real top tier shit. Because Steve is right. You got dealt a shit hand when you were forced to stop swimming, because you should already have been to the Olympics if there had been any justice in this world. But it is really stacked against poor people.”

“Yeah,” Eddie huffed. “I guess I’ll be seeing you guys again tomorrow?” He hopped back down to ground, scuffing his shoes on the asphalt.

“Yep,” Steve said with a smile. “Same time. This time Max will be joining us. She’s only going to be doing it two times a week. It’s all her mother will allow.”

Robin shook her head. “Girl’s got real talent and her mother thinks she’s too young to apply herself. I’m glad my parents weren’t like that.”

Steve reached over and gave her elbow a gentle squeeze. “Maybe once her mom sees how good she is, she’ll allow her to do more. But Max has time. She’s only eleven.”

Eddie nodded, rocking back on his heels and then forward on his toes. He chewed his lip for a moment before he launched himself at Steve, giving him a big hug. “Thank you!”

Steve staggered back a moment before wrapping his arms around Eddie. “You’re welcome. Everyone needs someone who believes in them.”

Then Eddie launched himself at Robin who was almost knocked over. She hugged him back, then he scurried back to his van. He gave them a shy goodbye before he drove off.

“He’s cute.”

Steve whirled on her with a shocked expression on his face. “Robin!”

Robin shrugged and started walking to Steve’s car, forcing him to jog to catch up.

“You can’t just say things like that,” he admonished, unlocking his car with the keycode on the door. “We’re his coaches now. Besides, I’m like six years older than he is. God!”

She laughed as she got into her side of the car. “I didn’t say you had to date him, dingus. I just said he was cute. You filled in the rest.”

Steve huffed as he slid into the driver’s seat. “Yeah, okay. I’ll admit that I find him very attractive, especially with all the tattoos. Dealing drugs must be pretty lucrative or else he’s got a sweet deal with a tattoo artist, because damn, he has a lot. At least four that I’ve seen and I think I saw the glimpse of another and I–”

Robin burst out laughing. “And you really, really liked it?”

Steve sighed and bowed his head. “I really did. I don’t think I liked tattoos on people before this point and now I’m drooling about it.”

Robin just patted his shoulder. “Just suck it up and drive.”

So Steve did just that, shaking his head.

~

Part 9 Part 10

Tag List: CLOSED

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[burntsaltsblog]

tw: mentions of blood, mdni

Chapter Three

"We gotta to take her to the hospital."

"You know we can't do that."

"We can because she's fuckin' dying!"

My body felt like it was floating before my focus settled on a steady throb of pain in my lower stomach.

"Butcher, she's not dying. Her pulse is strong, and since I stitched her up, she hasn't bled whatsoever."

"Then, why the hell ain't she wakin' up?"

"Because she's exhausted. She lost a great amount of blood and wore herself out trying to fucking wrestle you in the van."

Blood.

That word caught my attention. I remembered blood and lots of it as it painted Butcher's knuckles a deep red.

"If she's not up in thirty minutes, I'm takin' her to the emergency room, end of story."

"Butcher, you, and I, and fucking Jesus Christ himself, know that if we step one foot into any medical facility, we will be taken into custody. It's not worth the risk."

"She is. She's worth the risk.

It was quiet for either a few minutes or a few hours. Both timeframes felt the same in my hazy state.

A long sigh broke the spell, followed by more dialogue. "Jo is ok, I promise you. Now, I need to grab the bag of fluids that I left in my room. While I'm gone, don't you dare think about running off with her. I am the only medical professional she needs right now."

Footsteps trailed off as my eyes slowly blinked open to take in my surroundings. I was in the basement of the pawn shop, on the couch that I was still convinced had bed bugs.

"Mornin', sunshine."

The Cockney accent drew my attention, and I looked up at Butcher's tired face. His hazel eyes bored into mine, and memories from earlier flooded my brain.

"Here ya' go," Butcher said, offering me a glass of water.

Upon attempting to sit up and accept the drink, I gasped as my abdomen screamed in pain.

"Woah, there. It's a little soon for you to be up and at 'em, doll. Here, lemme help ya'," Butcher said gently as he laid me back down on the couch and eased a hand under my head, propping it up so I could drink.

Grateful, I eagerly gulped the water, finishing the whole glass in mere seconds and earning a chuckle from Butcher.

"There, ya' go. Down the hatch."

He slowly lowered my head back on my pillow and placed the empty glass on the coffee table behind him before turning back to face me, studying my face in great detail.

"You gave us a right scare there, love."

"At least I know you guys care," I shrugged. "Now, when I do actually drop dead, I'll be expecting a funeral with the works—fireworks, I mean. See if you can get Celine Dion, too. I heard she's available."

I expected another laugh from Billy, but instead, he looked more solemn than ever. His eyes trailed down to where my shirt, a clean one without blood, rode up on my stomach, showing the gauze that MM had wrapped me in.

"I thought I had lost ya'," He mumbled.

It was quiet between us due to the fact that I didn't know how to react to Butcher's surprising words.

"I guess I can relate to the feeling," I finally said as my face hardened. "Since you left me for three months with no goodbye. I thought you were dead."

Butcher bowed his head, "Jo, you have no idea how much I fuckin' regret leaving ya'. But I had no other choice."

"You always have a choice, Butcher." My voice grew louder as my emotions rose in powerful waves. "And you didn't leave me. You fucking abandoned me!"

He cupped my face, but I turned my head, rejecting the physical affection. "Don't," I whispered. "It's too late. You can't just walk back in here and act like nothing happened. Like you didn't fuck me, and then throw me away like garbage the next day."

Butcher's nostrils flared as he rose to his impressive height, towering over me. "Now, listen here-"

"Ok, I'm breaking this up," MM called, reentering the room. "Jo is very weak right now, and I cannot allow her to undergo any extra stress."

"I'm not weak," I quipped back, whipping my head to gaze at MM as he leaned over the back of the couch.

Unconvinced, he asked, "Really? Let me see you try and stand up then."

When I didn't move to rise from the sofa, MM shook his head. "You need fluids and rest. Luckily, neither is hard to obtain." He held up a bag of fluids before hanging it on an IV stand next to him.

"Now," he continued, doling out commands. "Close your eyes and go to sleep. I'll check your stitches in a couple of hours."

"But I'm not tired," I argued.

"The bags under your eyes say otherwise."

"Well, this couch is uncomfortable," I grumbled. "It hurts my back."

"Alright, we'll get you to your room then," MM sighed.

Before I could stop him, Butcher scooped me up into his arms, and I protested loudly. "Hey, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Oi, shut your pie hole," he whispered harshly, fanning the side of my face with his breath that stank of whiskey and dominance. "I'm takin' care of you whether ya' like it or not."

I fought an internal battle before closing my lips and fixing my eyes into narrow slits.

"Good girl."

Air was quickly expelled from my lungs as I exhaled, willing myself not to rub my legs together as an ache settled between them.

But it was no use. Butcher knew the effect he had on me, and from the corner of my eye, I could see a smirk plastered on his face as he carried me to my room, full of arrogance after winning our little quarrel.

"Dontcha worry, darlin'. When you're on your feet again, you can beat me up for being the bad man that I am."

I didn't respond because I refused to be baited into another argument with Butcher. Instead, I kept a pout in place and stared straight ahead, thinking of all the ways that I could cause him physical harm. After all, he had just given me permission to, and it was proving to be quite invigorating.

"And maybe when you're all done, you'll fancy bending over and lettin' me enjoy a meal or two. Because if my memory serves me, you seemed to enjoy it last time."

"Well, the last time was the only time," I curtly informed him as Butcher gently dropped me down on my bed. I inwardly chastised myself for falling for his trap when he flashed his crazy eyes above me.

"Mhm, that's what they all say."

"Well, I mean it," I snapped, pulling my blanket up to my chin as if it would shield me from Butcher's snarky words.

"Sure ya' do," Butcher said condescendingly as he patted me on the head before leaving the room.

I was relieved to be out of his company and was disappointed when he returned, the IV stand with the bag of fluids still hanging from it in tow and other needed supplies grasped in his hand. I watched as he prepared the IV tubing before he sat down on the edge of my bed and huffed, "Give me your arm."

"Why can't MM do it?" I sulked.

"Because I'm doin' it," he replied in a matter-of-fact manner.

I grumbled under my breath, clearly displeased. As I reluctantly drew my arm from under the blanket's coverage, Butcher looked at me with a bushy brow raised. "What? You don't think I'm a suitable nurse?"

"Well, your bedside manners leave much to be desired."

"That's funny. All my other patients think I'm perfectly charmin', especially the older ladies. I didn't know I appealed to nans so much," he snickered, running a calloused finger over my arm, searching for an appropriate vein.

"I'm surprised you appeal to anyone."

"I guess ya' should be questionin' your own taste then, eh?"

"Believe me, I am."

Butcher didn't reply as he wrapped a small piece of fabric around my bicep, creating a makeshift tourniquet.

"Don't look, ok, doll?" he instructed, swiping a cotton ball covered in rubbing alcohol over my arm. My nose wrinkled at the strong smell, and I coughed.

"I don't need an IV," I said, trying to negotiate at the last minute. "I'll drink lots of water. Even that gross electrolyte shit MM buys."

"I don't think that's gonna to cut it, sweetheart," he stated, sliding the needle inside of the small catheter.

I bit my lip, trying to resign myself to my fate but failing miserably.

"M'not gonna hurt ya', ok? Just look at the ceilin' so you don't maul me to death."

"It's not like you wouldn't deserve it."

Butcher closed his eyes as I began to tread on his nerves. "Princess, you outta think before you speak that way to someone who's holdin' a very sharp object inches from you, yeah?"

"But you won't hurt me. You just said so yourself."

"Doesn't mean I'm not tempted."

I rolled my eyes and held my breath as I followed Butcher's wishes and looked at the ceiling. I winced slightly when I felt the needle initially enter my arm, but Butcher gently ran his free hand over my shoulder, distracting me.

"Atta girl," he breathed. "You're doin' so good."

My body trembled as I floated down from my last orgasm. I was vaguely aware of Butcher as he pulled me to lay on his chest, both of us panting.

"Y'alright, sweetheart?"

I could barely reply as my eyelids fluttered open and closed. My mind was full of various thoughts, but none of them made sense as my head floated somewhere above the rest of my body.

"Look at me, doll," Butcher said, running a hand through my hair. "Lemme see them pretty eyes."

I mustered all of my strength to peel my eyes open as I looked up at Billy with a lazy smile on my face.

"There she is. Atta girl," Butcher whispered. "You did so good for me."

Even in my delirious state, I keened under his praise, and Butcher chuckled at my reaction.

"My beautiful girl," he murmured as I nuzzled into his neck, nodding off in the arms of someone I loved.

Yes, I loved Billy Butcher.

He just didn't know it yet.

I held my breath as I forced myself to count the questionable yellow spots on the ceiling and not get lost in yet another memory of Butcher pretending to cherish me. I had just reached the twelfth discolored splotch when Butcher sat back and said, "All done, love."

I looked down at my arm and furrowed my brows in confusion when I saw the catheter fully inserted with some tape to keep it in place. Aside from the initial insertion, I hadn't felt the rest of the procedure.

"Told ya' it wouldn't hurt," Butcher said proudly, crossing his arms over his broad chest, reading my thoughts, which were clearly displayed on my face.

"I guess you're not the worst nurse in the world," I relented.

Butcher's mouth curled up at the side, and I knew my meager compliment had inflated his already oversized ego.

"Well, ain't that sweet of you to say. But don't tell MM, alright? He prides himself on his medical skills."

Butcher delicately adjusted my blanket, pulling it tighter and tucking me in for the night. "Now you have a little lie-down, love. And dontcha let those manky bedbugs bite."

"Are you going to read me a bedtime story while you're at it?" I inquired.

"The only stories I like to tell aren't appropriate for bedtime," Butcher whispered, winking at me.

He headed for the open doorway before turning around at the last second. "Oh, and if ya' need help countin' sheep, just give me a shout. I'll be on the other side of the wall."

I nodded before curling up on my side, trying not to tug too hard on my IV as the door creaked shut, signaling that I was alone. The light from the living room drifted under the doorway, providing a makeshift nightlight and illuminating the small, dingy room.

Sleep came surprisingly soon, and I drifted off, dreaming of Billy's heartbeat under my ear as he held me in his arms.

༺༻

It felt like only minutes later when I woke up due to the sensation of someone's hands on my stomach, and I flinched as my eyes flew open.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," MM apologized. "I was just checking your stitches," he explained as he pulled the bandage back over my abdomen and quickly did the same with my shirt and blanket.

"How does it look?" I asked hesitantly as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

"So far, it's holding. But it wasn't my best work with Frenchie going ninety miles an hour and you...evading my help," he sighed.

"Sorry about that," I mumbled sheepishly.

"Hey, don't worry about it, kid. We all have something we're scared of. If I were being held down against my will while someone coughed in my face, I'd have done everything I could to knock their fucking teeth out."

My smile was small as I nodded in gratitude. "What time is it?" I inquired, wondering what day it was as well.

"Noon."

"Noon?" My eyes grew wide as I ran a hand through my matted hair. "Fuck, I must've slept for almost nine hours." Which was rare. These days, I was lucky if I slept for two hours consecutively with the anxiety that ran through my veins and the threats that loomed over our heads.

"Ten, actually. I told you your body needed rest."

I was preparing a comeback when my stomach grumbled loudly, interrupting the conversation.

MM rose to his feet. "By the sound of it, it seems you might want some breakfast. Frenchie made you a get-well gift in the form of French toast. Are you interested?" he asked, and my ears perked up at the offer.

"Sounds really good, actually."

He nodded, patting my shoulder. "Ok. Butcher will be in to help you up."

I groaned loudly, and MM couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry, kid, but Butcher made us all swear not to touch you. I was only granted special permission on the basis that it was purely medical so I could check your stitches."

"He's being ridiculous," I scowled.

MM regarded me knowingly. "I think I'd probably call it something else."

I rolled my eyes, and MM laughed again as he exited my room, leaving the door open.

I barely had time to prepare myself for Butcher's imposing presence when he glided through the uninhibited doorway with a cheery greeting on his tongue.

"Rise and shine, my love. How are we feelin' this mornin?" His accent was especially thick as he wasted no time in raking my blanket back.

I yanked the fuzzy material back over myself, glaring up at the Brit, but he just retaliated by gripping the blanket in one of his paw-like hands and tossing it across the small room.

I eyed the pile of fabric I was unable to retrieve due to my current injury and whined, "Don't leave it on the floor. I just washed it." But I was soon distracted by the chair that sat in the corner facing my bed. I didn't remember seeing that yesterday.

"Who's chair is that?" I asked, pivoting the conversation.

"Mine," Butcher replied as he carefully pulled my IV out and wheeled the IV stand out of the way. "You'll have to forgive me for bringin' my chair in, but I haven't figured out how to sleep standin' up yet."

"You slept in here last night?"

"Well, I don't have bloody x-ray vision, so how else was I s'pposed to keep an eye on you, eh?"

"Did it ever occur to you that not checking on me at all was a viable option?"

"Not in my book," he responded sharply before changing the subject. "Now, let's getcha up. According to MM, you're fancyin' some of Frenchie's cookin'."

Butcher slid an arm under my lower back and slowly pulled me into a sitting position.

"Easy does it, love," he said as I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed through the discomfort. "You got it."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed so my feet rested on the floor, and I braced my palms on my thighs, trying to steady myself.

"Take your time, ok? I don't need ya' rippin' your stitches under my watch," he advised as he laced our hands together and pulled until I was standing on my own two feet. My vision blacked out for a second as the blood rushed from my head down to the rest of my body, and I teetered forward, falling into Butcher's muscular chest.

"I've got ya' sweetheart," he assured me as he held my unstable frame against him.

I pulled back when my vision returned, and I looked up into Butcher's attentive face. "I'm dizzy," I mumbled.

"S'ok. MM said that's normal," he assured me softly, tucking my tangled hair behind my ear.

I wanted to chastise myself for enjoying Butcher's tenderness, but I simply didn't have the energy as I nodded, trying to turn toward the door.

"Do ya' think you can walk?" he asked, resting a protective hand on my back. I'm more than happy to carry you."

"I don't need a chauffeur. I'm perfectly capable of walking," I said, stumbling forward a few steps. I was determined to do something on my own after being coddled for the past twenty-four hours.

Butcher didn't reply, but he didn't remove his hand either in the event that I should fall again. That only increased the pressure I felt to walk faster and show him I was strong enough to move about without any help.

I finally made it out into the open area of the basement and was greeted by everyone. Hughie, Kimiko, and MM wore encouraging smiles as Frenchie placed a tall plate of French toast topped with whipped cream on the coffee table.

"Pour toi, Mademoiselles," Frenchie announced, and I thanked him profusely.

Under Butcher's watchful eye, I eased myself down on the couch, and he quickly followed suit. He placed a supportive arm around my shoulders, and I would've made a snarky comment about him being clingy, but his arm was the only thing keeping me upright at the moment, so I kept my mouth shut.  

Butcher placed my breakfast in my lap and whispered in my ear, "Do ya' need me to cut it for you, princess?"

I used all my energy to elbow him in his side, and he breathed out a laugh before addressing the room. "Alright you twats. Let's have a little chin wag about tonight."

My head shot up in confusion as I chewed the first bite of my French toast. The wonderful medley of sugar and cinnamon coated my tongue. However, I couldn't focus on Frenchie's superb culinary skills when the group began discussing a mission to which I was not privy.

"Ok, so after a little bit of trouble due to a very annoying firewall, I was able to hack their systems, and I found a blueprint of the building, so we'll be able to locate her office quicker than just going in blindly," Hughie said, squatting next to the coffee table and spreading out the blueprint that he had just spoken of.

"Who's office?" I interrupted.

Hughie looked confusedly at Butcher, who had remained silent beside me. "You didn't tell her?"

"Tell me what?" I asked skeptically, turning my head to look at Butcher, and he sighed.

"We're breakin' into Raynor's office to have a look around before the CIA cleans it out. Word on the street is that they're doin' it tomorrow, so we've gotta go tonight."

"And you decided this without me?" I asked incredulously.

"You were knocked out, love. Was I s'pposed to wake ya' up in the middle of the night? You're always moaning about how ya' need your beauty sleep."

"Well, that wouldn't have been difficult considering you were two feet away watching me like a fucking peeping tom," I snapped before glaring at the rest of the room. "I'm coming with you."

"No," Butcher said sternly. "You aren't goin' anywhere."

"Yes, I am," I pressed.

I felt Butcher's fingers tighten around my shoulder. "Let's talk about this later, yeah?" he suggested.

"Talk about what later? The mission that I was unaware of or the fact that you won't fucking leave me alone?"

I should've seen it coming, but I was still thrown off when Butcher suddenly stood from the sofa, leaving me to crumple against it without his support. He then stomped to the other side of the basement, only stopping when he reached the corner and sneered at me. "Is this better?"

"Expanetuily," I bit back, clutching my abdomen as it tensed up under the new strain as I stood as well, not finished with what I had to say on the matter. I thought I was holding up well until MM swore, rushing to my side and forcing me to sit back down.

Bemewsed by his behavior, I tried to question him, but when he pulled up my shirt, I saw blood seeping through the gauze, and my heart plummeted.

I had ripped my stitches.

"Hughie, go into my room. On my desk, you will find some supplies. Bring them to me," MM instructed as he made quick work of pulling back the now-damp gauze.

"Fuck, it's worse than what I thought," he sighed. "Nice going, Butcher," he said, throwing a dirty look over his shoulder at his boss, who had remained standing in the corner.

The dig forced Butcher into action as he footed it over to us. "Fuck you. Clearly, I didn't do it on bloody purpose."

"Just get out," MM barked as he accepted the supplies from Hughie.

"No, I'm stayin'," Butcher argued obstinantely.

MM pinched the bridge of his nose. "Butcher, Jo is clearly upset by you being here. So stop being a stubborn motherfucker and get the fuck out."

Butcher's gaze fell on me as lines formed between his thick brows in concern. I knew he was waiting for me to beg him to stay, but I wouldn't do it. His comfort was something I craved like a drug, and it was about time I got clean. Plus, I couldn't deny the sick urge I had to hurt him, to push him away like he did to me when he left for three months.

"Fine," Butcher uttered slowly when I remained silent, "I'll let you other cunts dry this one's tears when she's fuckin' beside herself over a goddamn needle and a little bit of blood."

He pivoted around and swept up the stairs. Seconds later, the old building shook as Butcher forcefully slammed the door.

It was quiet after Butcher's dramatic exit, and MM shook his head, running a needle through a lighter. The deja vu I felt was painfully prominent.

"You ready to try this again, kid?"

₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊ ₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊ ₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊ ₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊ ₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊

tag list: @weallhaveadestiny

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@mandossillyriduur

comment to be added to the list!🖤

abandoned masterlist

[pongnosis]

Part two of 'Everybody lives or by God, Hill is going to fucking murder them himself', because Yassen Gregorovich is going to single-handedly cause every single one of Hill's grey hairs.

Zhao falls into step beside him like he never left and maybe Hill deserves the incredulous look.

“Risky,” the man notes, “to argue with Mr Gregorovich.”

A year ago, Hill wouldn’t have done it, either. But then his entire world was wiped out in a second and he can’t bring himself to care what he used to do.

“We’re responsible for his security, not just when it’s convenient to him. If he makes risky decisions, it’s my job to call him out on it. He personally murdered his way through a good part of the old board and he knows the risks of internal threats. If he wants bootlickers, he can get another team.”

A year ago, he might have added a comment about Sagitta but now he doesn’t. Both because he needs to get on better terms with Orion this time around and because whatever else he might think about them, Sagitta has stood up to Gregorovich for their boss before and Hill can respect that. Even with Orion’s explicit protection, it’s a ballsy move.

… And, Hill will admit if only to himself, Sagitta was allowed to stay by Orion’s side in the future that he’s going to do his fucking best to steamroll out of existence. Dr Three approved of their presence around his hand-picked little protégé, and that’s the sort of attention that nobody wants but everyone knows speaks volumes. Sagitta had grown with Orion. They haven’t yet, they’re still the babysitters for the kid that’ll hopefully have years before he’s put in charge of anything bigger than an operation, but the potential is there.

Hill needs that sort of firepower in his corner to stop this whole disaster. Especially because he can’t appear to know anything about it. Gregorovich is a fucking bloodhound; even the ghost of a hint that Hill might’ve acted on more than training and instincts, and that deadly focus could be turned on him instead of the actual rat-fucker that Hill needs to somehow find a way to take down.

Hill hates politics. SCORPIA hired him for his skills for massive destruction and full-scale massacres, not juggling the sort of politics that comes with being in charge of the business.

Zhao makes a non-committal sound. Not quite agreement, not quite disagreement. The sort of commentary he’s perfected after years of working together.

Hill had never reached that stage with Owen. They were still finding their pace together when -

- This happened. Whatever this is. Purgatory, or a second chance, or just a hallucination from a brain that hasn’t realised it’s dead yet.

Deimos was a good team. Solid, skilled, dependable. Didn’t ask questions and followed orders. But they weren’t Danube, and the gaping wound where Danube should have been had been too raw and painful to allow Hill to get close again.

Another thing he has to keep track of. He’s a different person after everything, of course he is, but he can’t be. Not now. Gregorovich and Danube know him better than Deimos and Crux had time to, between stressed operations and damage control and clearing out the infection that had spread through SCORPIA, and that’s the person he has to be again. Somehow.

Hill needs somewhere quiet to settle on a course of action. To figure out what’s happening and how he can use what he knows.

He’s not getting that, either.

First things first, then.

“I want M’Hamid base put through every security protocol you can find. Every single fucking one of them. If you can find any of Kurst’s old ones that we don’t already include, those are good. If Orion has added some unofficial ones, those are even better.”

Another non-committal sound. The fucking sass is so familiar it hurts.

“That will significantly delay Mr Gregorovich’s departure,” Zhao points out mildly.

“Then Mr Gregorovich should consider taking his security measures more seriously.”

And not act like a fucking farm cat in a bathtub whenever Hill mentions the words ‘due caution’ or ‘risk assessment’.

Hill’s mistake had been to accept that. This time around, he’s going to make it everyone’s problem.

Zhao doesn’t argue. Maybe he agrees with that, too.

-----------

They find the IED under the helipad, exactly where Hill knows it would be, and it’s a big one.

There was not much left to examine the first time – for obvious reasons – but staring at the photos now, Hill wonders how he survived at all.

“A hunch?” Gregorovich asks next to him. If he’s in any way disturbed by his brush with death, it doesn’t show.

“Mostly spite, sir,” Hill says before his brain can catch up with him, and Gregorovich honest to fucking God smiles at that.

Maybe it was a test. Maybe he just appreciates pettiness in all its forms, including his head of security being willing to inconvenience all of them to make a point.

It’s not even a lie. It’s not a hunch when he knew it was there.

Now Hill just needs to somehow unravel the rest of the conspiracy without implicating himself in the process.

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

Don't Get Attached | Part 2

➪ Playlist (Spotify)

➪ W/c: 1137

No Strings Attached

I’m not sure what you would call what Jungkook and I are. Friends? Lovers? Friends with benefits, maybe? Labels are confusing, but as far as people around us are concerned, we are “dating”. If you consider physical attraction dating then whatever floats your boat I guess. The thing is that neither of us is seeking any other source of attraction, or even if we were then it’s clear that neither of us is willing to showcase it. Jungkook is the type to never have heard the word “no” so it’s easy for him to get what he wants. And currently, his fixation has been me, specifically the chemistry between us. But, I’m not the type to be played around with either, so with two strong-headed players it’s difficult to highlight the whole picture without missing the small details. Thus, we keep each other in place, allowing only surface affection to prevent deep-rooted emotional damage. Don’t get attached y/n.

--

Checking my watch for the tenth time, I shiver in my little jean jacket as the cashier at the ticket kiosk announces the final show times before closing. See, Jungkook and I planned to watch the new Spider-Man movie together, but the only problem is that he is nowhere to be found. Each one of my attempts at calling him goes straight to voicemail. Has he forgotten about our date? Not very on brand of him but maybe something has come up, so I decide to text him instead. 

y/n: Hey, where are you? The theatre closes in about 45 minutes. Are you ok? Please call me. 

No reply. Very strange. Actually, what’s more strange is the fact that his location has been turned off for the past 2 hours. Trying really hard not to go into a manic episode I focus on some deep breathing before succumbing to the sharp pain in my chest. Although my brain is telling me to stay calm, the heart never lies, right? Following my own delusion, I decided to stop by his apartment as there are a plethora of places Jungkook could be at right now, but this one just feels like a good start. 

“Thank you,” I say to the taxi driver before making my way towards Jungkook’s apartment complex. It’s now about 11 pm, so the streets are quiet. As the elevator doors close, the sharp feeling in my chest intensifies making it hard to breathe. Nonetheless, I shake away the nerves and knock on his front door. No one answers, so I try again before using the spare key he gave me to “keep just in case I missed him at night”. 

As the door slowly opens, my eyes scan the room for any signs of Jungkook. Although nothing was out of the ordinary, there was a sweet smell of cherry blossom lingering in the air, which did strike me as a surprise since he is more of a vanilla-scent type of guy. But, people change I guess, so I lock the door behind me before tiptoeing towards his bedroom. 

“Jungkook hurry, I miss you,” a woman's voice echoes behind the bedroom door before it swings open. My mouth slightly drops at the sight of a half-naked redhead who seems to be just as confused as I am. 

“Who are you?” she snaps, eying me up and down before turning her head towards the bathroom where Jungkook was currently in. I abrupt her attempt at getting his attention by pulling her out of the bedroom, slowly shutting the door behind me. 

“I … I just needed to drop off something, but now I see that it's not the best time so I'll just head out. Umm, no need to tell Jungkook,” words stutter out of my mouth as my body begins to fuel with adrenaline from the sudden rush of emotions. Folding her hands in front of her chest, the redhead watches me rush out of the apartment before turning her attention back to Jungkook whose wet hair was dripping down his exposed chest. 

“Who was that?” 

“Some girl, she said she needed to drop something off …” 

“Fuck y/n was here? Why didn’t you call me?” he snaps harshly, putting on a pair of grey sweatpants and a black hoodie over his freshly washed body before rushing out the door. 

The corridor towards the elevator seemed to never end as my steps got faster and my breathing slower. Pressing the 1st-floor button, my body finally gave in as I leaned back on the cold wall before resting my head. Looking at my reflection I can feel my eyes water, pathetic really. I told you not to get attached y/n. What did you expect from a relationship with no strings attached? 

Before my subconscious could answer, the inner dialogue was interrupted by Jungkook, whose tattooed arm was now holding back the elevator door from closing. Quickly wiping the tears from my face I move to the other side as he stumbles inside. 

“Y/n …” he lets out, voice raspy and deep. Turning on the emergency button, he turns his face towards me as the elevator halts. Feeling as if time had stopped completely, our bodies were still, eyes locked on each other. 

“Y/n, please let me explain,” Jungkook whispers, reaching out his hands before I push them away. 

“No need, I totally get it,” I snap, trying to maintain my composure as my throat tightens. Holding back the tears in my eyes I bite down on my lip, reaching out to press the 1st floor button again before I'm inches away from Jungkook's chest as his broad shoulders tower over my form. As my back hits the wall, goosebumps rise all over my skin from the sudden cold sensation. 

“Jungkook, move or else I'll scream,” 

“Do it. Scream, yell, I don't care, just please don't leave like this,” he says softly, pressing his forehead on mine as the scent of his body wash fills the small space between us. 

“What do you want me to do? Dance? Do you want me to skip from joy upon seeing a half-naked woman in your apartment? Huh?” I yell at him, unable to control the tone in my voice any longer. Trying to push myself out of his grip I gasp for air as my throat tightens again. 

“Shhh y/n please, you need to calm down,” Jungkook sighs, caressing the palms of my hands before meeting my teary eyes. 

“Don’t tell me what to do, in fact, don’t ever talk to me again. Forget we ever happened. Here …” I scoff, placing the spare key into his hand before finally reaching for the 1st-floor button. As the elevator gets back in motion, his grip loosens but doesn’t let go completely. 

“Hope she was worth it,”

Previous l Next

[portgasmalia]

ʚ 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗞𝗧𝗢𝗕𝗘𝗥 𝗡𝗢. 𝟮 ɞ | roronoa zoro.

𝖋𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: roronoa zoro & fem!reader 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: nsfw content (mdni), bondage, blindfolded, weapon usage like swords play to increase senses, might be a little blood if you squint, orgasm denial, teasing, usage of swords again just for my own sake 𝖍𝖎 𝖎'𝖒 𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖆: first, i wanted to write this about trafalgar law, but lets be honest, babyboy zoro is the swordsman for such writings. so, number two of my kinktober drabbles which I'm just throwing out because i have no list prepared before the month, but i will make one after. well, enjoy lol

the world around you was a spongy mass of black shadows, the thick fabric of the bandana taking away your sight. your eyes were useless, and you could only focus on the situation with the remaining senses. but mostly, the responses of your body were what he aimed for. wrists messily bound together over your head, denying you any kind of resistance against the tactics, he chose to use tonight. he chuckled as your body tried to twitch away from the first interaction, and you truly attempted to imagine what his beautiful, but sadistic smirk could look like.

both corners lifted? maybe just one? which of the three beloved weapons was it that he was using to ignite a spark of fear inside of your stomach. increasing the deep pleasures of his cruel, yet careful treatment. he would never hurt you, not even the slightest cut was relevant to receive what he wanted.

zoro loved to experience with you, seeing what kind of unknown kinks you have and how crazy the ideas could be. it was actually a sweet moment, when he used the brain cells of his tired head to think about your pleasure. the solid lilac hilt held between his thick fingers, zoro wielded enma like the professional swordsman he was. but this time, not to inflict wounds on an enemy.

with the back of the blade, avoiding using the sharp side and accidentally cutting your smooth skin when your body offered him any kind of reaction, the vice-captain of the straw hat crew brushed the cold metal against the inside of your thigh. shivers spread along your body in merely seconds, the change of temperature almost a tad too much to handle in combination with not being able to see. "does that feel good, princess?"

zoro's usual deep voice got raspier, an intense sound and attractive tone that immediately made your legs twitch. an attempt to close them, clench them together as the warm walls of your pussy hugged tighter around nothing. closing them without your lover's permission was not an option. you repeatedly nodded, wanting and needing more. another hour of feeling zoro's swords caress along your exposed body would coax an orgasm out of your tightened chest. but his hands, the swordsman's fingers were undeniably a better option to reach the climax faster.

the simple problem of that request? tonight wasn't yours to decide. it did not matter if you were quivering, shaking uncontrollably, or begging so sweetly. the restrains on your wrists, and the bandana across your eyes would keep you down, tied to the place and allowing zoro to move at his pace. painfully slow, almost tiring. "do you want more?" the green-haired man asked, not even waiting a second to hear the answer. turning the sword in his hand a quarter around, zoro carefully but undeniably eagerly pressed the flat side of enma against your pulsating clit. the temperature of the metal felt like ice, freezing against your glistening folds.

a loud and long moan rolled off your tongue too easily, and infected the smile on zoro's mouth with pride. for him, it was unchallenging to coax out the needy sounds. the simplest task at least. zoro scoffed when the moans slipped past your tight-smiling lips. "if enma is enough to please you, i could tear you apart then," he chuckled, a certain sound of darkness and mischief mixed together in his deep laugh. lifting the blade, his gaze stayed glued to where the metal connected with your sweet clit. your juices covered your folds and thin strings followed the movements of enma, keeping a connection between his sword and his lover.

“covering my sword in your juices,” zoro informed you about the happenings around you, reminding himself multiple times that his bandana was used as a blindfold. as if enma came up with the worst teasing methods if not used on the battlefield, zoro suddenly had an idea. in quick motions, he tapped the cold blade of his sword against your wet clit and folds again, but this time, only a couple of seconds before lifting and repeating the same movements. an identical gesture to him holding his thick shaft in his hand and slapping your pussy with his red tip.

“give me one, i know you can do it.” zoro instructed, slapping your wet folds with the flat side of emma’s blade repeatedly. oh without a doubt would he brag about those interactions to Luffy and Sanji later, a smirk on his face.

[sabokunsmalia]

ʚ 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗞𝗧𝗢𝗕𝗘𝗥 𝗡𝗢. 𝟮 ɞ | roronoa zoro.

𝖋𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: roronoa zoro & fem!reader 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: nsfw content (mdni), bondage, blindfolded, weapon usage like swords play to increase senses, might be a little blood if you squint, orgasm denial, teasing, usage of swords again just for my own sake 𝖍𝖎 𝖎'𝖒 𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖆: first, i wanted to write this about trafalgar law, but lets be honest, babyboy zoro is the swordsman for such writings. so, number two of my kinktober drabbles which I'm just throwing out because i have no list prepared before the month, but i will make one after. well, enjoy lol

the world around you was a spongy mass of black shadows, the thick fabric of the bandana taking away your sight. your eyes were useless, and you could only focus on the situation with the remaining senses. but mostly, the responses of your body were what he aimed for. wrists messily bound together over your head, denying you any kind of resistance against the tactics, he chose to use tonight. he chuckled as your body tried to twitch away from the first interaction, and you truly attempted to imagine what his beautiful, but sadistic smirk could look like.

both corners lifted? maybe just one? which of the three beloved weapons was it that he was using to ignite a spark of fear inside of your stomach. increasing the deep pleasures of his cruel, yet careful treatment. he would never hurt you, not even the slightest cut was relevant to receive what he wanted.

zoro loved to experience with you, seeing what kind of unknown kinks you have and how crazy the ideas could be. it was actually a sweet moment, when he used the brain cells of his tired head to think about your pleasure. the solid lilac hilt held between his thick fingers, zoro wielded enma like the professional swordsman he was. but this time, not to inflict wounds on an enemy.

with the back of the blade, avoiding using the sharp side and accidentally cutting your smooth skin when your body offered him any kind of reaction, the vice-captain of the straw hat crew brushed the cold metal against the inside of your thigh. shivers spread along your body in merely seconds, the change of temperature almost a tad too much to handle in combination with not being able to see. "does that feel good, princess?"

zoro's usual deep voice got raspier, an intense sound and attractive tone that immediately made your legs twitch. an attempt to close them, clench them together as the warm walls of your pussy hugged tighter around nothing. closing them without your lover's permission was not an option. you repeatedly nodded, wanting and needing more. another hour of feeling zoro's swords caress along your exposed body would coax an orgasm out of your tightened chest. but his hands, the swordsman's fingers were undeniably a better option to reach the climax faster.

the simple problem of that request? tonight wasn't yours to decide. it did not matter if you were quivering, shaking uncontrollably, or begging so sweetly. the restrains on your wrists, and the bandana across your eyes would keep you down, tied to the place and allowing zoro to move at his pace. painfully slow, almost tiring. "do you want more?" the green-haired man asked, not even waiting a second to hear the answer. turning the sword in his hand a quarter around, zoro carefully but undeniably eagerly pressed the flat side of enma against your pulsating clit. the temperature of the metal felt like ice, freezing against your glistening folds.

a loud and long moan rolled off your tongue too easily, and infected the smile on zoro's mouth with pride. for him, it was unchallenging to coax out the needy sounds. the simplest task at least. zoro scoffed when the moans slipped past your tight-smiling lips. "if enma is enough to please you, i could tear you apart then," he chuckled, a certain sound of darkness and mischief mixed together in his deep laugh. lifting the blade, his gaze stayed glued to where the metal connected with your sweet clit. your juices covered your folds and thin strings followed the movements of enma, keeping a connection between his sword and his lover.

“covering my sword in your juices,” zoro informed you about the happenings around you, reminding himself multiple times that his bandana was used as a blindfold. as if enma came up with the worst teasing methods if not used on the battlefield, zoro suddenly had an idea. in quick motions, he tapped the cold blade of his sword against your wet clit and folds again, but this time, only a couple of seconds before lifting and repeating the same movements. an identical gesture to him holding his thick shaft in his hand and slapping your pussy with his red tip.

“give me one, i know you can do it.” zoro instructed, slapping your wet folds with the flat side of emma’s blade repeatedly. oh without a doubt would he brag about those interactions to Luffy and Sanji later, a smirk on his face.

[dailydegurechaff]

I wanted to know how do you interpret Tanya's gender. After reading chapter 58 of the manga i got the impression that she is definitely trans coded, but maybe thats just me

Very good question.

To be honest, when I think too hard about Tanya’s gender (and sexuality, for that matter) it gives me brain worms. Fun brain worms, but brain worms nonetheless. I can’t explain it. Everything she’s got going on is complicated as shit there’s way too much to think about.

Like, she was a man, but now she's a girl. But at some points she says she still sees herself as a man internally so is this MtFtM? How does that work. And if she accepts she's a woman now, is that just MtF or do we add more letters. More importantly: Was Being X being Transphobic or being the Greatest Trans Ally of All Time with the free divinely issued sex change.

Ok ok, jokes aside. Confession: I actually do not keep up with the manga, so I had to go find the chapter and read it first. Having read it now though, I see what you mean.

The conversation she has with the Salaryman/herself in that chapter really does read as essentially saying “I’ve accepted who I am now.” It’s a far cry from a much earlier part of the manga I remember where she has a breakdown about being a man/people seeing her as a girl.

A friend of mine was actually showing me stuff from more recent chapters of the manga (don’t know which chapter tragically, but I know it’s not currently translated to English) and from what I gathered of it, Being X was showing Tanya a dream of being back in her past life and in response she basically demanded to go back to being Tanya immediately. It is definitely not just you, I 100% see the trans-coding you’re talking about.

As for my personal interpretation of her gender, I touched very briefly on it once before, but I honestly think she wouldn’t want to label herself as anything. At first, this is out of hesitance and not wanting to acknowledge that anything might be ““wrong”” or ““different”” about her. Later on it turns into character growth, more along the lines of, “I don’t need the label to define me, I just am what I am/like what I like. I don’t care about it any more than that.” Yes this is 100% projection on my part. No, I won’t apologize for it lmao.

Of course, that's entirely my own headcanon. I definitely am not saying it’s the only way to interpret her, it’s just my personal thoughts. Especially since my opinion is subject to change on a dime depending on what I’m reading/working on myself. The Tanya gender is, in fact, transient, shifting like water.

Like. A transfem Tanya fic that focuses on her adapting to life in her new world and coming to discover she doesn’t actually hate her new body? I’d totally read that. I’ve seen a few fics that include that as a part of the narrative and those scenes of acceptance were among my favorite parts.

I get the feeling this is the route that the manga is going as well. It’s a bit of a shame that we don't have those aforementioned scenes in the light novel (or at least, I don't remember them), but I don’t think that Carlo Zen really intended that to be the focus/narrative in the first place. And honestly, I also think that’s a good thing because it allows for so much more room for interpretation and headcanon around Tanya’s character.

Anyway, the other direction is also compelling to me. A transmasc Tanya fic where, after feeling uncomfortable and hating how feminine he looks for years and years, he finally goes ‘Fuck this, I’m gonna go back to being a man’? I would read the fuck out of that too.

Could also be paired with him finally choosing to defect, where they think about it like, ‘Well there’s nothing to hold me back now, right? I don’t have to maintain appearances anymore. Also, since I’m defecting this would be a great way to hide myself. They’d all be looking for the wrong person. Two birds with one stone, how efficient.’ …Now we’re getting to fic ideas I won’t ever get to so it’s time to move on I think.

Semi-related to the Trans Tanya Concept, this actually brings me to a bit of a lore/headcanon/idea/question I want to present to the public for opinions. In Norden, during the inciting battle of the war, Tanya uses magic to “dope up” so she could enhance her strength and reaction time and kill pain. I took this to mean she used a formula to synthesize the narcotics/adrenaline hormone/whatever else directly into herself, right?

Can you see where I’m going with this? As long as you know which hormones to make, how they’re made up, and what quantities you need… Well, don’t you think magic HRT is completely possible? Of course, as I'm not sure it makes sense for Salaryman to have known the detailed specifics about it from the modern world, it would require a lot of in-universe research/science advancement for someone to actually do that, but theoretically...

The magic system in this universe has so much potential to be explored, I’m fascinated by what you can theoretically do with it. Although, this is long and off-topic already I think this should be the end, lol.

I think I talked too much? I’m sorry, you were probably not expecting such an answer. I told you, Tanya gives me brain worms (mental illness).

I guess the TL;DR is this: that kid definitely ain’t cishet.

[fandom-madness69]

hey can u make a scenario where s/o is a simp for gojo like she says the most craziest shit like "ngl gojo is like water I can't live without him~~" and she says that infront of everyone and he literally doesn't even care like it normal at this point and everyone is just looking at him like he's crazy😭 (fluff and nsfw please!)

You've got it 🫡 it helps I am a simp for Satoru myself

Content: fluff, Satoru and S/O are equally whipped for each other, slightly NSFW, plus sized reader (I actually switch it up like every other fic if you actually take time to read my masterlist. This is both a dig at someone and me letting everyone else know what to expect), Satoru x reader, fem reader

Word count: 616

“Listen, I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again,” you said and the sound of a few of your coworkers groans filled the room, “I need Satoru like I need the oxygen in my lungs.”

“Awwwww, always so sweet about me Princess,” he cooed from his desk without looking up from the stack of paperwork.

“Would you two please fucking get a room?” Akira groaned out.

“We have one. And it definitely is a fucking room,” you said as you stick your tongue out at her. You watched her face turn bright red at your comment.

“I’d high five you for that one but I’m across the room so, air five,” Satoru called out as he held up his hand. You held up yours and mimed giving him a high five.

You returned to your own paperwork for a few minutes before you let your eyes wander back to where they truly wanted to be. Resting on Satoru’s figure. His shoulders were hunched over his desk and he scribbled at the papers underneath his hands.

“I can literally see you staring at me,” he cooed out from his desk. His eyes might be covered but you had cursed energy which means he could still see you.

“Not my fault you’re walking sex incarnate,” you cooed back at him. Your coworkers all groaned much louder around you. This made you giggle and your eyes quickly flitted to each of them to see their expressions. You might not have six eyes like Satoru but you did have a vision curse. One that allows you to see everything around you from a fraction of a second of a glance into a room or at a person.

You tried once again to focus on your paperwork. You didn’t have much left and you knew once you two were done you’d get what you really wanted. All of Satoru’s undivided attention on you. You doubled down your efforts on making yourself focus on your work. Despite your best efforts your brain kept drifting off to Satoru. You rubbed your thick thighs together hoping a little bit of friction would help. You were wrong.

“Alright, well I’m all done over here,” Satoru called from his desk.

“I still have a few things left to do, my sexy sorcerer,” you responded. He chuckled as Akira and Masamichi, the only two left in here with you and Gojo, groaned again. You knew they were only partially bothered by your open simping for Gojo. Akira had mentioned to you at one point it was actually really nice to see someone who loved Satoru as much as you did.

After a few more minutes of intense focus, you pushed back from your desk. You stretched out your arms and subsequently your whole back. Satoru might have bought you a really nice desk chair recently but it didn’t help when you had shit posture. Your hands land on your thick thighs and you giggled as you watched the fat jiggle for a while. You used to hate how pudgy you were but Saturo had made you more comfortable when he worshipped you as much as you did him.

“All done?” he crooned in your ear and his arms came to rest on your tummy fat. You smiled as he nuzzled into your neck.

“All done,” you confirmed.

“Good then let’s go home so I can repay all your worship from earlier,” he said as he kissed your neck. His hands grabbed at your tummy more. You used to hate it when he grabbed at your fat like this but now you love it. The way his fingers touched every inch of you with love and adoration.

Please do not reupload this anywhere. If anyone ever sees my original work uploaded anywhere please let me know. I only post here for now. One day I might actually move things over to my Ko-fi

[iamvegorott]

Magicians Don't Need Superheros Pt30

First: Link Prev: Link Next: Link

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Marvin went to the library after the meeting ended and got breakfast with Jackie. He didn't have much of a choice since Jackie insisted everyone needed breakfast. The man even casually split an apple with his hands when Marvin said he wasn’t too hungry. Marvin would freely admit that he asked for a second half of an apple to eat because he wanted to see Jackie do the apple-splitting trick again. It seemed to be about placing the pressure in the right spots rather than just pure strength alone. 

Anti had teased that Marvin asked for another half because he wanted to see Jackie’s muscles, and Marvin responded by throwing an apple half at him. 

Marvin cut the core out of the remaining apple half he had and ate it during his trip to the library, and he now sat in one of the chairs, reading the last few pages of a magic book and writing down notes. He had stopped by his room and grabbed the romance book. It was currently sitting on the coffee table and waiting for him to continue reading it. 

Marvin was closing the magic book when Mad walked into the library. Mad stayed in place and waited for Marvin to finish writing down his thoughts before speaking.

"Hello." Mad greeted with a slight wave.

"Hello." Marvin greeted back, standing up. "Did you already talk with the others?"

"Yeah. I gave them the coordinates Host saw." Mad started walking, moving around the library in a way that told Marvin he knew where most things were and was likely looking for the change in the room where the newest books would be. Marvin followed out of curiosity and continued their conversation.

"Did Host have any questions about why you wanted to know where the Iplier is?" Marvin asked.

"No. He would actually be more concerned if I didn't ask." Mad softly chuckled, stopping in front of the collection of magic books. "Some of these are thinner than I expected." He commented as he ran his fingers along the spines of the books.

"The thinner ones focus on one specific spell," Marvin explained. "And what all do you talk to Host about? He seems so...I can't even find a word to describe the energy he puts off, but it doesn't match yours at all."

"Host and I are a lot more observant than everyone realizes or remembers until we bring something up." Mad picked a random book and looked at the cover, using a thumb to trace the swirling patterns. "With my empathetic abilities, I can tell many things about everyone, and Host helps me translate what it means. In turn, I help Host translate the more obscure visions since my brain processes information differently."

"What all can you tell with emotions?" Marvin didn't question when Mad handed him the book and started grabbing several more.

"Blood tells a lot about the physical being, emotions tell a lot about the mental being," Mad explained, looking at the collection of books in Marvin's arms, and began stacking a few more into his own. "There's always the basic knowing if someone has a crush based on affection or lust or if someone doesn't like something based on hatred or disgust, but there's a lot more to emotions than just the surface level."

"Everything has more than just the surface level." Marvin took one of the books off the stack Mad held when he noticed he was struggling with it. Mad's stack was nearly double what he held so he took some to help balance him out.

"Thank you and absolutely." Mad nodded. "For example, Jackie's fear of medical extraction. It's not a phobia he was born with, and it's a fairly specific fear as well. The...not to sound gross about it, but the only way I can describe it to others is as 'taste'."

"Makes sense." Marvin shrugged.

"The taste of Jackie's fear is a trauma-based one. One that was created by some event, and I want to help him and take that fear away, but Mare says I'm not allowed to use that ability." Mad huffed at the last part.

"What ability?" Marvin asked as he walked with Mad as they made their way back to the sitting area of the library.

"Do you mind if I use some of the notebooks? I forgot to bring my own. I can replace what I used later." Mad skipped over Marvin's question. That meant either he didn't want to talk about it or wasn't supposed to talk about it.

"Have at them. I've written my name on the ones I'm using." Marvin decided to let that drop for now, knowing there was a good chance he'd eventually get Mad to spill it without having to push. Jackie also may know what it is, and he'll just ask him at dinner.

"Have you gotten into the blankets yet?" Mad asked as he sat his pile of books down on the other end of the coffee table, Marvin following suit.

"The blankets?"

"There's a collection of blankets and pillows in this closet." Mad went over to said closet and opened it up. "There's also book lights and mug warmers." He added as he dug away and pulled out some supplies.

"I had no idea." Marvin peeked into the closet and was impressed with the collection. Some of the blankets were beyond soft and fluffy, and he couldn't resist pulling one out for himself.

"I discovered it when I was first exploring this place. The buildings that are created for us have a lot of little nooks and secrets that you have to look for in order to find." Mad made a little mound with the blankets and pillows.

"Looks like I need to start being a little more nosy." Marvin hummed to himself.

x~x~x

Marvin read through a few more pages in a new book before giving up on it and indulging in the romance book once again. He really needed to know what happened next.

He wished he had found out about that closet sooner. It was so nice being curled up in the chair, covered with a fluffy blanket, and reading his book. The temptation to take this blanket to his bedroom was strong.

Everything was nice and calm, but Marvin did notice that Mad seemed to be...watching him? The first few times Marvin felt like eyes were on him and found Mad staring, he thought he was just lost in thought. He's had his own moments of looking off at nothing while trying to figure something out in his head. They were sitting right across from each other, so he assumed it was just a coincidence.

But now he was doubting that with how Mad looked away so quickly.

Marvin only had one chapter left and he closed his book, getting out of his seat and making it look like he was heading off to look through the shelves. He waited until Mad was back in the zone of reading and taking notes before taking soft, silent steps to be behind him. Marvin grabbed the back of Mad's chair and yanked, making it and Mad fall backward. Mad yelped and found himself on his back with his legs in the air and looking up at Marvin, whose hands were on his hips and he tapped his foot.

"Why are you staring at me?" Marvin asked.

"Staring at you? I-what-I wasn't-" Mad sputtered a bit, eyes becoming the bright orange Marvin saw when he first learned about the color-changing.

"Why were you staring at me?" Marvin asked again, using a firmer tone.

"I wasn't staring I was...well...I was studying."

"Studying?"

"Yeah, studying. You're new so I don't have a full baseline of your emotions. I can pick someone out of the crowd when I know their emotions. Everyone's emotions project in different ways. I haven't been around you enough to find yours so I was...studying." Mad explained.

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"Alright." Marvin grabbed Mad's hand and helped him to his feet. "Here's the deal. No more 'studying' me without telling me and my permission."

"Okay." Mad lifted the chair back on its legs.

"And how were you getting my range of emotions by staring at me?"

"I've read the book you're reading. I know when the scenes happen and I can notice even the slightest bit of emotional change when I'm focused on it. Reading involves enacting emotions, even mildly, so it was a perfect time to get a speed run on my studying of you."

"What have you gotten so far?" Marvin glanced over at the clock to check the time. Jackie would be barging in to tell them it was time for dinner at any moment. Chase had shown up at lunch and gave them both some sandwiches and fruit.

"You really enjoy whenever the main characters have a...'moment' together. You were literally radiating excitement when they finally got together. The kissing scenes and love confession and chapter twenty-five." Mad's voice got softer with the last item on the little list. The orange in his eyes turned into a redder shade.

"I think you really liked that chapter." Marvin teased and watched the red-orange grow stronger as Mad's face went pink.

"I-I could also tell that you really like the protagonist's partner, Kalvin. The firefighter or 'hero' as the others in the story calls him." Mad spoke quickly, trying to get back to the topic at hand. "I noticed that whenever Kalvin did something one would call 'heroic' the emotions you had about it are similar to the ones you feel for-" His sentence stopped when the library doors opened and Jackie barged in.

"Time for dinner!" Jackie said with a big proud smile.

"Yeah. Definitely the same emotions." Mad said to himself.

"Are you sticking around for dinner?" Jackie asked Mad.

"I should head back to my place." Mad awkwardly pointed with his thumb before taking his phone out. "I have something I need to look into and it's not...here." He paused and looked between the two Septiceyes. "Bye." Mad turned and rushed out of the room.

"He left a mess," Marvin stated.

"He'll probably be back tomorrow to read more. You can leave it for him to deal with," Jackie said.

"Fair." Marvin picked up the fluffy blanket. "So, dinner?"

"Yeah! I was thinking chicken or spaghetti." Jackie bounced a little as he walked with Marvin.

"Could do both with chicken alfredo," Marvin suggested.

"I have no idea how to cook that."

"I can figure it out."

"That sounds dangerous in a kitchen."

"Only if you're the one doing it."

"Hey!" 

[christinesficrecs]

I might be drowning in lost fic requests. 🤦🏻‍♀️ If you can help I would REALLY appreciate it. ❤️

Stiles started dating this really abusive guy, he cut off all contact with the pack, his dad Etc and the guy moves them away (maybe Chicago). Stiles eventually leaves him and goes back home and it turns out the pack and his dad have been trying to find him.

Lost River (never reached the sea) by scribespirare | 13.2K | Mature Three years Stiles has been gone. Three years, and then out of the blue he shows up on Derek's front porch, bloody and bruised and in need.

I am looking for a fic where there's the monster of the week (it's maybe an incubus?) and it shifts to look like stiles. It convinces derek to not turn him into the rest of the pack. Derek agrees just to be able to be with 'stiles.' scott i think figures it out? And tells derek that it would have slowly killed him.

Derek hates touch because of Kate and flinches whenever someone touches him. But Stiles does this thing where he never touches Derek, instead he lets his hand hover around him, allowing for Derek to initiate the contact if he wants to. Oh! And Cora’s alive and I’m pretty sure the one who notices this. She ends up confronting Stiles about it at some point. I know it’s pretty short, just one chapter/ a one-shot, and around 5,000 words. I think, I could be wrong.

i see that you've come so far [just like them old stars] by crossroadswrite | 2.3K But her big brother’s unwillingness to touch anyone, like he thinks he doesn’t deserve it isn’t the only thing she notices. She also notices how Stiles doesn’t touch him. Everyone reaches for Derek in some form or another, but Stiles- Stiles is something different altogether because he reaches for Derek but he never makes contact.

Hi! Could you please help me find this fic where Derek is an alpha but of like the whole town I think? Or something. Stiles keeps getting into trouble or losing control (or something) and he goes to stay with Derek for a few weeks to help him behave/get focused because hes the alpha. Derek helps him focus better on his homework and runs exercises with him to burn off excess energy and misses him when he goes back to his dad's. That's all I remember, sorry its so vague.

Do you know of a fixk where derek and Stiles kill Gerard together but when chris ask them about it they act surprised he did? I dont know anything other than this so sorry

Basically it's young Derek x Stiles, Derek is part of the basketball team and they end up going on like a trip for a basketball game. Stiles tags along and they end up staying at a motel (they share a room). At some point it's Stiles’ Mothers death anniversary and Derek brings him fast food back from his jog. And I'm like 90% certain that there's like a bonfire at the back of the motel and Derek brings out his guitar infront of everyone and starts singing abt his crush on Stiles.

Okay sooo, young Derek x Stiles but the hale family are still alive. There's this whole thing about them both promising to have a starwars marathon. Derek also draws a lot in this sketchbook thing, he's like rlly private abt it but stiles ends up looking in it and finding a drawing of both him and Derek. Then Derek kind of wolfs out? He like loses control a bit and is afraid of hurting Stiles. OH! And then there's another bit where theyre playfighting in the Hales' kitchen and Derek pins Stiles down and stiles gets really embarrassed abt it. And then at the end there's like a really cute line abt their hearts beating as one 🥺🥺

Hey! I hope you or your followers can help me out but I've been wracking my brain on this one for awhile trying to remember this fic where everyone loses their memory of Stiles' existence but this is where I get fuzzy on the details. All I can remember is that Stiles returns to his house and his dad threatens him because he doesn't recognize him and so he ends up at Derek's. IIRC, Derek doesn't actually recognize him either (he might reveal this right away or later?) but helps him anyhow?

Hi! Ive been trying to find this fic, it was a amnesia type fic and I believe Derek went to visit his family who live out of state, he planned on finally telling them about Stiles but hes in an accident, loses his memories, and his family starts trying to set him up on dates(?). I think some of his family were wellknown or famous or someone told Stiles about Derek going out and Stiles just assumes he'd wanted out of the relationship but didnt want to tell him. Its mostly the summary I remember😅

Hi, I'm looking for a fic where young Stiles meets Derek in the woods as a werewolf, helps him get back home, to thank Stiles he writes him a letter and Derek replies that they become pen pals. That's what I remember that's how it starts. thank you!

[sarafinamk]

Sonic IDW Issue 56 Bad Ending

Summary: Surge claims she won't be free until Sonic is dead. Tails can't do anything but watch as it unfolds.

TW: Death, Electrocution, Strangulation, Murder, Attempted Murder

————————————————————————

"SONIC!"

He was right there.

He almost had him.

Even though Tails' eyes never leave Sonic, the distant flashing figure of Surge always remains within Tails' peripheral vision. The tenrec is just standing there, eyes glued on Sonic. It doesn't take a two-tailed genius to know that she's waiting for the first opportunity to strike. The ever-changing kaleidoscope of wisp energy and electricity flickering off of her sent the kit a very clear message. Tails needed to get Sonic out of the water now. It's not deep, so it'll be easier swooping his brother out. Surge, however, made it clear that she had other plans for the hedgehog. That message was made clear in the form of electric currents dancing in the water, pumping millions of volts into his system.

Tails pulls away on instinct. It could easily be written off as merely his astraphobia hindering him from saving the older hedgehog. The fox kit, however, knows that trying to touch his brother in this state is like touching a toaster in a bathtub filled with water. You don't touch it unless you have a death wish.

Much to his horror, he can't see anything that could get him close enough to his brother, let alone pull him out. Not without Surge's little lighting lake pulling him in as another victim.

He can't stop the source of the electric currents either because he has no way of defending himself from Surge. If he tries this time, she will target him instead. Sonic won't have enough time to get out of the water.

Tails had to do something. If only he'd stop shaking and staring at the flickering currents trapping his brother.

There had to be something he can do. If only he'd just snap out of it, and actually think of something.

Surge catches the hovering form of the blue rat's sidekick from the corner of her eye. He's not even trying to step in. He's just gawking at them uselessly. Without all those dumb gadgets, he can't do anything. The tenrec's pupils shrink with realization. This gives her the opening she needs to drive her message home.

To do what needs to be done.

She lunges at the convulsing blue hedgehog, screaming bloody murder.

"YOU DON'T GET IT! I was built to live in your shadow. It's in my blood, my bones, my BRAIN. There is no freedom for me..."

Her hands tighten around Sonic's throat, eliminating any chance he may have had left of getting air. The voltage invading the hedgehog's body kept him further restrained, allowing her to get a tighter grip on his windpipe without any pathetic attempts to fight back. Not that he can focus on that with his brain being fried. Her shark-toothed snarl is the only thing he can focus on as his vision dances to darkness.

"...NOT WHILE YOU'RE STILL ALIVE!"

The rainbow-like energy engulfing her body pulses with intensity thanks to the electricity flashing around her. However, Tails didn't shield his eyes from the energy's strong glare. He can't stop watching the scene unfold in front of him. The pounding in his chest urged him to dive down there and stop her. He know he had to, but something in his mind wouldn't let him. It kept him there in a helpless daze. His widened eyes match that of his older brother's.

The glass orbs in the dynamo cage glow a bright white before it suddenly shatters. With the glass no longer able to contain Surge's temporary power-ups, the five wisps emerge out. Their glow wasn't there, and their flight pattern was very wonky. To Tails' short-lived relief, however, none of them turned into nega wisps.

Surge stops sparking. The energy field around her dissipates. Her grip around Sonic's throat loosens. Her body drops face first into the water right next to Sonic. One of her hands lays close to his throat.

The wisps circle around the limp duo like a dim halo. Tails, snapping out of his trance, rushes over to his brother's aid.

"Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh--"

He lands next to the two fallen figures, stumbling onto his knees. His hyperventilating only made his coordination worse. He hastily pulls Surge off his brother, rolling her over onto her back. Before Tails can check for a pulse, he catches her chest rising and falling. He can only hope she didn't inhale too much water. Once he put Surge in a position where she wouldn't be able to inhale any more water, he scrambles over to Sonic's side.

The fox kit's heart plummets deep into the pit of his stomach. Sonic is decorated with bright red burns growing and branching out all across his skin like roots. The burns and fingerprints wrap around his neck in the sickeningly brightest shades of red. His mouth remains slightly agape. His muzzle has grown several shades paler with dull green eyes to complement it. His gaze never leaves the flickering white ceiling lights above.

"...Sonic...?"

Tails tries so hard to ignore the way his voice comes out barely above a whisper. The wisps surround them, getting a good look at their beloved blue hero, battered, burned and beaten black and blue. They look at Tails with doubt as one or two try to communicate something in their language. The fox knows what they're trying to tell him, but he knows better. Sonic will wake up, make some commentary about how that was shocking or gnarly or something, get up and get back into the fight. And all this will be done with a smile on his face.

It got harder to ignore the nausea bubbling in his stomach the longer the hedgehog's chest remains still. He's going to wake up. He has to wake up. He's done this so many times before. His brother has to be pulling a sick prank on him at this point if he's taking this long.

Tails calls out his name a few more times, each time getting louder and more desperate. He continues shaking his brother awake, begging him to wake up, His voice cracks more with each ignored plea. Not even his tears are doing anything to make his big brother answer him.

He places two fingers against Sonic's reddened neck, and all he felt is the skin losing its warmth.

No...

No, no, no!

There had to be a pulse. It's the adrenaline rushing at Tails' cold fingertips playing tricks. The pulse is just faint, that's all.

He did the only thing he could think of at this point: shake his brother awake with more force until the trembling of his voice made it impossible to get one more plead out. The boy threw himself at his brother's corpse, muffling his cries by pressing his face against his chest. The wisps circle around the sobbing kit clutching onto his big brother for dear life. There's nothing they can do but listen to Tails repeating Sonic's name over and over as if that will bring him back.

"Finally! Collect the dynamo cage and the tenrec!"

The unwanted sound of Eggman's voice commanding Metal Sonic breaks the kit out of his distress. Tails wanted to tell him off, to tell that cheater that this wasn't part of the deal. But the heavy lump in his throat wouldn't let him get any words out without the risk of breaking down again.

Fury burns in his lungs looking at the unconscious tenrec next to him. He doesn't see why he should even bother protecting Surge at this point. His brother's dead because of her.

No!

He promised Kit that he and Sonic would help them. Sonic would want to protect her from the doctor's clutches no matter what. Despite his fury burning hot, he inches closer to the unconscious tenrec. His body only partially hid her as he's adamant of keeping Sonic secure in his arms. He doesn't know how he's supposed to defend them and the wisps by himself. All he knows is that he'll do what he can to protect them.

Metal Sonic lunges at the group, only for a rush of water to rise up and slam the robot away. Tails looks up at a specific set of test tubes with a relieved, knowing look. Kit, no longer hiding between the tubes, hops down behind Dr. Eggman. Water tendrils slither around the fennec as he takes a few steps forward. His glowing magenta eyes are void of any emotion.

Eggman swivels in the boy's direction. He gets into a defensive position, but doesn't budge from his place.

"Stay out of this, you waterlogged whelp!"

Kit responds by merely lifting his hand up. Water tendrils sprout upon command. They proceed to coil around the doctor who can't help but yelp in surprise. Metal wasn't able to reach his creator before another set of tendrils wrap around his figure.

"What do you think you're doing? Unhand me, you little-- GRRK!"

The tendril squeezed the wind out of a raging Eggman before he could get another word out.

Water tendrils wrap around Tails who lets out a surprised yelp as he is abruptly snatched from his spot. He tries reaching out to Sonic only for his hands to be pulled away by the water around his wrist. He squirms in desperation when he feels his restraints coiling tightly around him. He tries to spin his namesakes, but to no avail.

"Kit!"

The water-bending fennec only acknowledges Sonic's sidekick with a passing glance in his direction. Tails can't pinpoint any sign of anger, disgust, or even sadness on the fennec's face. All that can be seen behind Kit's bangs is a pair of glowing magenta irises staring blankly at him. The water around him was rippling with rage, but everything in his body language is calm.

Menacingly calm.

"I know what's going on here. I've seen it before. Starline. Eggman. YOU. You're all the same. You don't need me or Surge. You WANT us. All that matters is what we can do, how you can change us. So you can prove that YOUR way is RIGHT. Surge killed Sonic just like she wanted. Now she can move on. And you don't have a purpose anymore. I'm going where I'm needed, and that's with Surge."

Everything that came out of Kit's mouth was spoken matter-of-factly. It leaves Tails with a chilling realization. They were never planning on calling it a truce with them. This was their plan all along, and they fell right into their trap.

With one set of tendrils, he brings Surge closer to him. With a flick of his hand, he sends another set to work on tearing apart the room piece by piece. The fennec watches the chaos unfold around him with a small unsettling smile. Every broken chunk of glass, concrete, and metal surrounding him left him with a startling sense of serenity. He wouldn't leave without delivering one final message to his enemies.

"I'll bury you all here along with our past."

Now that the water tendrils are no longer tampering with the room, everything began cascading down. Kit hovers out of the broken glass ceiling with Surge in his arms.

The water releases its grip on Tails. He scrambles to his feet, trying to maintain his footing. He panics upon realizing the wisps aren't with him. He tries to spot for any signs but only sees grey from the concrete and dust. From a distance, Tails catches Metal Sonic pushing Eggman up a slope. He had to give it to the man. He can run fast when his life depended on it.

"Such melodramatic histrionics... Faster, Metal!"

Tails turns around to find a familiar unconscious blue figure close by. Without thinking, he runs to Sonic. He can't leave his big brother like this.

But Sonic isn't waking up this time...

It hit him as he watches metal, glass, and concrete rain down on Sonic. There won't be any more jokes. No more quips, laughs, or reassurances that he was okay. Any hope left in the kit's chest is replaced with the suffocating truth.

Why did Tails think this time would be like all the other times?

At the other end of the room, Tails spots the five wisps. They're barely avoiding the raining debris while trying to stay together. Tail's mind screamed to go to them, but he feet refuse to cooperate. Everything moved slowly as he feels himself being overtaken by a whirlwind of thoughts.

If he leaves now, he'll be all alone again.

He doesn't want that life again.

He got so used to Sonic always being there with him, he can't imagine him ever leaving.

Maybe Tails doesn't have to be alone.

If he stays...

A roaring rumble from below snaps him out of his thoughts. The room is not going to hold for much longer. To his surprise, the wisps stayed in place. They're all giving him urgent looks. They want to get out of here now, but not without Tails...

He needed to get to the wisps and leave.

Now.

Whisper is waiting for them, and Belle is going to worry if no one returns soon.

With a heavy sigh and repressed tears, he flies over to the wisps, leaving Sonic to get buried in his new grave.

"Let's get out of here!"

The wisps cling onto Tails as he flies them through the raining debris. Even with five wisps on him, he has an easier time maneuvering past the raining rubble. That is until a fairly large chunk of concrete takes him by surprise and knocks him unconscious. The wisps wrap their tentacles around one part of the unconscious fox. Since they had no power to spare the fox, the wisps have to resort to being the ones to fly him out the old-school way. Even with five of them, they are straining themselves past their limit. They barely manage to dodge pieces of the ceiling.

A dark opening comes on sight. Getting a sudden burst of energy, they hightail it past the last bits of the rubble. They make sure to drop the fox kit gently before doing so themselves. The rumbling below overwhelms their senses for a moment before everything goes silent.

Right on cue, Tails groggily opens his eyes. He is greeted by a pounding in his head and the familiar silhouettes of five dimly colored wisps hovering around him, warbling their worries to the fox. He is exhausted in every way possible. All he wants right now is to go back to sleep and pretend this was just a nightmare. He'll wake up, and Sonic will be there like he should.

He slowly pulls himself up into a sitting position with the wisps' help. Every part of the kit is still shaky, including his breaths. He can't tell if it's nerves or the chill prickling his damp fur. Not that it makes much of a difference. He can't feel his legs, which doesn't bother him. He's not ready to stand up yet. It's taking all his energy just to stay sitting up. The wisps seem to be fine with that as some have clung onto him.

With his head in his arms, he bathes in the cold, dark, silence. Not even his soaked namesakes wrapped protectively around him can provide him warmth. That doesn't bother him. There's nothing and no one here left to bother him. No Eggman-

Come to think of it, Eggman and Metal Sonic got a head start in escaping and yet he's nowhere to be found. Tails hasn't seen hide, nor hair, nor metal. With Eggman, it would be impossible not to hear him. Could it be that they also...?

"Blah!"

Nevermind...

"Well, THAT was a waste of time..."

Eggman kicks away a large chunk of debris on top of him. Metal Sonic crawls out of the junk pile after his creator. Water drips off of both of them from head to toe. Metal is more or less indifferent to it, like usual. The doctor, on the other hand, is looking at his drenched lab coat sleeves with disdain.

"Metal, call ahead to the Eggperial City. I want a transport, a snack, and HOT BATH waiting for me when we get home. I have some important sulking to d-- Oh."

Eggman takes notice of the lone fox kit sitting with those meddling wisps, but no Sonic to be seen. Granted, he did see the whole pitiful display, including the damage done to the blue rodent. Under any other circumstances, the doctor knew they were as good as gone. But this is Sonic we're talking about here. He's cheated death an ungodly amount of times. If he's managed to survive having dark gaia energy in him or Infinite's illusions for half a year, then he very well could walk this off. Only this time the hedgehog actually bit off more than he can chew. And the worst part...

Eggman wasn't the one that succeeded in defeating that hedgehog.

"That duck-billed buffoon actually did it. He created an adversary that destroyed Sonic once and for all."

"And whose fault is that?"

Eggman scoffs.

"Don't give me that, now. I'm not the one who couldn't leave well enough alone! Starline should've known better than to think he can outdo me. I told him that I knew what I was doing, but no, he wouldn't listen."

"But YOU were the one who threw him out."

"That was perfectly well within reason!"

A switch went off in Tails' head.

"Reason?! You're the reason he created Surge and Kit! If you didn't throw him out, he wouldn't have found them. If you had just given him some recognition, he wouldn't have done all... THIS!"

"I made it very clear that I will not compromise my principles just for some kiss-up that didn't know his place. It's not my fault he couldn't get that through his head."

Tails looks at the man with disgust.

"What would YOU know about principles?"

"More than Sonic, it seems."

That got Tails to shut up real quick. Eggman took this as a sign to keep going.

"Everyone knows his principles revolve around freedom. What does he say? 'Freedom to go about his own way?' 'Live life the way you choose?' 'Free as the wind,' or something like that? Blech! Anyways, we all know how well that worked for him."

"Shut. Up-"

"Sonic ACTUALLY believed it would be a good idea to preach to Starline's little maniacs, of all people, about freedom, even when he knew they were conditioned to kill him. The idiot just wouldn't let it go. Both of us may refuse to compromise our principles, but that's the difference between us. My principles have kept me alive. His principles are the very reason he's gone."

"SHUT UP!"

Tails' chest tightens with every heave. His glaring blue eyes burn with more unshed tears. His lips drew back in a snarl, which only protruded the growing lump in his throat. Sonic's lifeless body flashes in the kit's mind.

'And you don't have a purpose anymore.'

This causes the kit to try growl, only for a whimper to come out of him instead. A whimper turns into a few choked sobs which unfurls into full-on sobbing.

Unable to spare the doctor another glance, he curls up into a little ball. The wisps are quick to come to Tails' side. They wrap their tentacles around the kit's trembling form, while warbling their condolences. Eggman and Metal leave the fox kit alone with the wisps, seeing as there is no point in reasoning with him in this state.

Kit's words repeat in his head like a broken cassette tape. The image of Sonic's glassy eyes won't go away. It makes him grit his teeth harder. The noise from the kit's throat came out as a mix between a growl and a scream, which worsened the pounding in his head. But he wants it to hurt. Maybe then the image of Sonic's lifeless eyes and the echoes of Kit's taunts will leave his head. It'll serve him right for being useless when Sonic needed him the most.

He just got Sonic back after six months of thinking he was dead. He swore that he'd be better, that he'd DO better. He wouldn't be a burden anymore. He wasn't going to run away or stand on the sidelines like with Infinite and every other crisis. He was going to be the little brother and sidekick Sonic needed. One that Sonic deserved. One that he can depend on.

But that's never going to happen.

Sonic's not coming back this time, and it's all his fault.

He almost had him, and he was right there.

[ashenquill]

“What’re you working on?" Scar lounged in a plush chair, pushing aside the cane that was resting across his knees. Cub sat at his desk a few feet away, focusing intently on several sheets of paper in neat, orderly piles. "More superhero stuff?”

“Yes, actually,” Cub responded. Scar sat bolt upright in his chair, leaning forward eagerly. “But it’s not for you,” he clarified.

Scar faltered for only a moment, his disappointment quickly replaced by intrigue. “Ooh, is it for Cuteguy? Are you making his suit? Can I see it? Are we gonna match?”

“Woah, slow down there, Hotguy,” he said with a half-smile. “I’m just doing some mock-ups, there’s no guarantee that any of this will be permanent.”

“But I wanna see,” he whined.

Cub rolled his eyes. “I never said you couldn’t see it, I just said–” Cub was cut off as Scar rushed up to him, peering over his shoulder and gazing wide-eyed at the handful of sketches that he’d done.

“Wow, Cub! These are amayzin’!” 

“Thanks,” he said. “Cuteguy and I have been in correspondence since he left the gym earlier. He’s uh… not exactly Picasso, but he’s got some good ideas.”

Scar hummed in acknowledgement, distracted by the drawings. “What’s all this stuff about the back?” he asked.

“Trying to come up with the best solution for his wings,” Cub said, bringing his pen to his mouth. “He said an open back is the best way to allow unrestricted movement, but I also want to make sure there’s enough compression around the shoulders to prevent injury. Plus, he needs to be able to fight without it falling off, but it has to be easy to put on.” Cub sifted through his sketches, revealing various designs, each with a slew of notes and alterations in red and blue ink. He furrowed his brow as he revisited them, and Scar recognized his expression as being the same one he wore when he was doing a puzzle. With a quick glance at the pages closest to him, Scar picked out one and held it up to Cub, disrupting his focus.

“What’s wrong with this one?” Scar asked.

“Mmm. That was a good one,” he acknowledged, eyes flicking back down to the half-finished sketch he was working on. “Proper compression, relatively open back, good security. But Cuteguy pointed out that it was impossible to put on, so we scrapped it.”

“Why not just add a zipper or something?” Scar asked, tilting his head.

“He said zippers are the work of–” Cub froze, stopping mid-sentence. He lifted his head to stare at the wall with narrowed eyes, and Scar could practically see the gears turning in his brain. “Zippers might not work,” he mumbled, “But maybe a snap would still be enough? Or those magnets I was working on… let me see that,” he requested, reaching for the paper in Scar’s hand. He gave it back with a small smile on his face, and a surge of satisfaction fluttered in his chest at being able to help.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then! Unless you want some help…?”

Cub mumbled under his breath as he took out the red pen and began making marks on the page, then spoke more clearly for a moment. “I’m busy with this, so do you want to do a few sketches of the costume as a whole? You’ll do it more justice than either of us can.”

Scar felt as if Cub had just lit fireworks in his chest, and he struggled to keep himself contained. I get to help design his costume! Okay, stay calm, Scar, be cool, you got this. “For real?!” Okay that was not calm OR cool. “I mean– ahem, sure, sure! I’m happy to help out in any way I can.”

Cub snorted, not bothering to look up. Scar could picture the way he rolled his eyes, even without seeing his face. “Sure thing, Hotguy. Pens and paper are over there.”

Scar moved in the direction he gestured, grinning wildly. He didn’t even care that he was letting himself get carried away — his mind was already swarming with ideas, the inspiration making his hands twitch as it struggled to escape. I have never been more grateful that I learned how to draw in my entire life.

“How do you think he feels about pink?”

»»———————     .°•*⁀➷     ———————««

That was an excerpt from my fic, This Profession is Not Scar-Safe on AO3! If you're interested, feel free to check it out :]

I mainly just wanted to post these sketches I did a few weeks ago. For some reason, writing and drawing work incredibly well together to fight off inspiration blocks lmao.

They're kinda messy, but that's sort of the point. It's more like a recreation of the mock-ups Cub did for Cuteguy's suit, specifically the back design.