ear penetration that makes you smarter? EP that jams into place/rearranges brain and fixes your faulty serotonin and dopamine systems? EP that mimics the flushing waste mechanism that occurs during sleep and makes you feel completely rested while completely coating all your neurons in EP top’s cum?
EP that works like a psychedelic and literally carves new pathways in your brain, reducing your ocd/depression
Tamaki eating something that allows him to morph his tongue into something long and thin with his quirk and then using said tongue to fuck into your ear canal and turn you into a drooling, blank eyed mess while he desperately humps against you and covers you with his cum.
That flicking, frantic tongue jamming and winding its way around your brain until it pokes out from your other ear. A puddle of piss pooling underneath you as your mind is broken with each forked jab against soft tissue and as your poor body gives into the pain of your eardrums being ruptured and your brain slobbered on, your hips being shredded as sharp claws manifest.
And, oh, Tamaki snuggling up to you when he's finally spent- cute as a puppy as he nurses on your tit and falls to sleep and absolutely disgusting as he nuzzles into the combined mess of blood, sweat, cum, tears, piss, and drool made from the both of you.
Steve and Eddie getting together post-season four, not because of the shared trauma or a new mutual respect for each other or a shared gaggle of kids.
No, it's because when Steve and Robin take over the SQWK, half the sound effect tapes are busted from the "earthquakes," and Steve says to himself, I know a freak who can probably do silly little voices and is conveniently all but strapped to a hospital bed and can not escape me.
So Steve spends an absurd amount of time bugging Eddie in his hospital room, shoving a microphone in his face, telling him to "scream like a woman falling down the stairs" or "cough like you just choked on a hit," while he's trying to make sure his insides don't become outsides.
i love when virgil's anxiety isn't panic attacks but is snapping and tensing up when anyone is around and almost crying because he feels so wrong and shaky and he isn't pretending to be Normal very well and he doesn't know what to do anymore
Late at night, a shaky portal to the Imagination opens in the middle of the living room. Logan did not expect who would come out of it. Or the state he would be in.
Written for @oatmealdaydreams for @tss-camp-and-coffee's Camp Cartoon writing event. Prompt: hurt/comfort Logince
WC: 1656 - Rated: G - CW: injuries, mentions of blood and burns
Not quite four in the morning, Logan lingered over his half-drunk coffee. If Patton knew what he was doing, he’d most certainly cluck his tongue, swapping his brew for a mug of hot cocoa. And give him an earful about making better choices.
But Patton wasn’t awake, and neither was anyone else. Well, Remus almost certainly wasn’t sleeping, somewhere in the Mindscape, wreaking his own brand of havoc.
It was equally certain Remus couldn’t care less if Logan were drinking coffee at this hour of the night.
He hummed. This ‘hour of the morning’ was more accurate phrasing given the current time and state of things. Whatever may have been his original intentions for slipping down to the kitchen when Logan an hour ago, there was little chance of him returning to bed now.
Sighing, he drained the last of his cup, determined to make good use of his ill-timed alertness. He’d just finished rinsing the mug when a cacophony of sound erupted in the living room. Dropping the cup—thankfully break-proof—he rushed to investigate.
A three-meter circular portal had opened in the wall next to the television. Unframed and not in its usual place in the hallway between the twin’s rooms, the boundary on this door to the Imagination wavered, crackling as it immediately began to shrink.
The roar of flames and the dragon that breathed them assaulted Logan’s ears. Smoke and soot spilled out, following by a second dragon’s cry. The boundary shrank further, now barely half a meter across. Just before the portal closed, a hand reached out. Bruised and bloodied, smeared with ash, the hand flailed, scrabbling for a handhold that was not there. The hand reached further and the once brilliant white of Roman’s tunic peeked into view.
Without thinking, Logan grabbed his hand and pulled the Prince free from the portal just as the boundary collapsed, sealing the fire and dragons in the Imagination behind it.
“Roman!”
Tunic and pants singed, thin wisps of smoke curled up from his clothes, his hair. Roman’s belt and scabbard were hot to the touch, as were the warped epaulettes on his shoulders. He had more wounds that Logan could count at a glance, with a slowly spreading dark stain creeping out from the gash in his trousers. Liberally dusted with soot, it was difficult to see precisely where the blood was coming from.
“Calculator Watch,” Roman mumbled, head heavy on Logan’s arm. His eyes were only half-open and even that seemed to require extraordinary effort. “Didn’t think anybody’d be up. No-one usually is.”
“You didn’t—you—No-one—You fool!” Logan sputtered, willingly expressing his worry as anger. It was easier. More productive. “How often do you go off gallivanting on your own in the Imagination in the middle of the night?”
Roman’s only answer was a shrug.
“Roman?” Logan shook him, wincing when Roman whimpered briefly before opening his eyes.
The hero’s mask slipped back into place and he gave Logan a crooked smile. “I shall be fine,” he said, voice quavering. “Just need a moment.”
“To hell with that,” Logan spat. It took a bit of work to get his feet under him in a squat but finally he got Roman properly positioned in his arms. He pushed up, lifting him off the floor. Roman’s arm fumbled, weakly looping over his shoulders.
“I can walk, Nerdy Wolverine,” he mumbled, eyes still closed.
“Mm-hm,” Logan grunted. “That’s your brother’s nickname for me.”
As Logan hoped, irritation sparked fresh energy in Roman’s limbs and he held on tighter. “Don’ wanna talk about him,” he growled.
“Fine. We can talk about what in the name of Newton you were doing out there instead,” Logan said. Grip finally stable, he staggered to the bathroom with his Princely burden. “But first we’re getting all this ash off you so I can see what we’re dealing with.”
“’m fine, Logan,” Roman mumbled.
Eyebrow raised, Logan didn’t need to say aloud what they both knew. If he couldn’t be bothered to come up with a new nickname—not to mention fight his way out of Logan’s grip, Roman most certainly was far from fine.
“Let’s get your wounds cleaned and then you can convince me just how ‘fine’ you are.”
~
Too shaky to stand—though he’d never admit it—Roman quickly acquiesced to Logan’s suggestion that a bath might be safer than a shower. Grateful to have avoided that particular argument, Logan held his tongue as he helped him into the tub, sudsing up his hair and back while Roman slowly worked to wash whatever else he could reach. Save for a burn and a nasty trio of gashes on his thighs—the dragon’s claws, Logan guessed—most of the other wounds covering his hands and face and shoulders were smaller. Burns, cuts, and bruises, some of which were already showing signs of his rapid healing.
Whatever else could be said for the brash, pig-headed, egotistical—Logan halted his own internal tirade. Whatever else could be said for him, Roman was, in the end, a more than adept fighter. Logan was certain anyone else—with the possible exception of his even more violent brother—would have fared far, far worse.
After refreshing the bath four separate times when the water grew too murky to do much more than simply spread the blood and soot around, Logan deemed him sufficiently cleansed and helped him out of the tub. Wrapping him first in the largest towel he could find, Logan protected his modesty the best he could while still patting him dry.
The bandages would stick better to dry skin.
Clearly still too weak to use his Creative powers to simply conjure fresh clothes, Roman needed Logan to summon an existing tee-shirt and shorts from upstairs. Finally dressed, Logan settled him into a seat on the edge of the tub and knelt in front of him. He opened the first aid kit and pulled out the gauze and a tube of bactine.
“This may sting a bit,” he warned before dabbing it around the deepest of the wounds. Roman flinched but didn’t make a sound and simply watched Logan work without complaint or comment.
His silence was unnerving.
“So would you like to tell me what you were attempting to accomplish out there?” Logan asked as he wound Roman’s thigh in a triple layer of gauze.
“Does it matter?” he asked quietly. “I failed.”
Logan liked it better when he called him a nerd. Tearing off a bit of tape to seal the edges of the wrapping, Logan hummed. “I would not characterize arriving home alive as a failure.”
Leaning against the wall, Roman’s eyes fell shut. “It’s not a success,” he muttered.
“Falsehood,” Logan said, sharper than he’d intended.
Roman’s eyes flew open, red-rimmed and glossy with tears.
“You, Roman, are worth far more than some Pyrrhic victory over the creatures of your Imagination,” he said firmly. “You are a vital part of Thomas’ psyche. Beyond carrying half his creativity, you bear his sense of strength and self-assurance and his—”
“But I’m not his hero anymore, though, am I?” he said, pulling away. “Heroes don’t hurt people.”
“Roman, you did not intend to harm Thomas with your ruling,” Logan began. “You were merely—”
“I mean De—I mean Janus.” Roman huffed and looked away, nostrils flared. “And you.”
Oh.
Logan stared at him for a long moment before busying himself with the first aid kit. Eyes focused on the blistering burn along Roman’s other thigh, he shook his head. “I am unharmed by anything you have said to me.”
“Do you want Janus to show up?” Roman said. “We both know that’s not true.”
He spread another layer of burn cream to Roman’s leg before answering. “I… suppose it is not entirely accurate that your words have had zero impact me,” he finally said, glancing up from the corner of his eye. “I… I have endeavored not to… fixate on it, though. I have a job to do.”
“Is that all I am to you? Is that all this is?” Roman asked, gesturing around them at the towel drying on the rack, the open first aid kit. “You’re just doing your job to—to—to keep ‘Thomas’ psyche’ well?” he sputtered and pounding his fist on the edge of the tub. “We used to be friends, dammit!”
“I—” An inexplicable lump grew in Logan’s throat and he shook his head. Roman simply watched him wrap fresh gauze over his burn. Arms crossed over his chest and jaw set, Roman wore the posture of impatience, annoyance. Anger.
But his eyes were still wet and he made no move to leave the cramped bathroom.
Logan sighed. “No,” he said at last. “No, Roman, of course that’s not all you are to—When…” He took in the cuts and burns and bruises littering Roman’s body and he shuddered. “When I first saw your hand reaching out from the Imagination, all I could think was, well… I couldn’t think. I just…” He frowned, searching fruitlessly for the right word. “I just… felt.”
Silence dropped between them again but Roman’s crossed arms loosened, slowly sliding back down to rest at his sides.
Clearing his throat, Logan reached for the hand with the most burns. “I do not believe I am ready to discuss my… feelings on the matter,” he said. “Yet,” he added, meeting Roman’s eyes. “But believe me when I tell you it is heroic to attempt this conversation.”
Roman’s face softened into an almost smile.
“And, perhaps—if you wish—I could accompany you to speak with Janus,” Logan offered with a small shrug as he dabbed ointment over Roman’s burnt knuckles. “I could… mediate during the conversation or help you prepare beforehand by serving as a sounding board of sorts or—“
Carefully closing his fingers around Logan’s hand, Roman nodded. “I’d like that,” he said with a tiny smile. “Nerd.”
so im a big analogical fan its always been my favourite sasi ship mostly because if i was any of the sides i'd be an analogical fusion fr fr i exist from anxiety and knowledge and this logan angst arc we've been riding for soooooo long now is giving so much fuel to the hurt/comfort fire of analogical. I've been reawatching literally all of sander sides and the bit in LNTAY where virgil sings "you're lost, it's okay" and like Virgil knows about orange he has to i mean they all have to because of the use of "the others" so many times when referring to the dark sides even when janus is there yk they all know theres one more and whether Logan is being controlled or influenced or if orange is a part of logan. it is seeming like orange is part of logan somehow and i think that is gonna be really interesting however it plays out which like im super excited for i love that we got a little hint of orange just to like let us know its not forgotten about. but yeah analogical it gives alot of like Virgil clearly has skills when it comes to calming people down (so does janus i think thats an interesting skill for them to have in common and makes sense that Virgil would have gone to deceit to calm down before he joined the light sides because lying to yourself does ease anxiety in the short term at least) but logan definitely need understanding and patience which i think Virgil is the only one really able to give him for obvious reasons i think but i will explain that i don't think logan takes patton seriously enough to help and patton wouldn't be able to break down and understand logans thinking as much as Virgil. I also think logans problem of not being taken seriously and not being listened to is very close to virgils previous issue of him not being as scary anymore like virgils voice does give him more urgency in the same way i feel the orange eyes do for logan. where was i going with this??? who knows not me but yeah i just really like the pairing
i enjoy the “toxic auntie stroking your hair and comforting you with bad advice because you have no one else even though you had the most vicious disagreement only a day ago” idea for pre-AA Virgil and Janus, that’s a whole vibe
Warning: HARDCORE fucked up EVIL dubcon manipulation puppy play. Evil abusive dom x helpless scared puppy sub: (I pretend to throw the ball but really I’m hiding it behind my back and they’re soooo sad about it)
Eddie Can’t handle crowds after vecna. The Hawkins rumor mill makes him hide. His trailer doesn’t feel safe anymore so he crashes on Steve’s bed and pretends it’s casual.
they develop an unspoken “don’t let go until the other one lets go” policy, which Steve has with Robin too, but it’s different with Eddie and Steve won’t push their fragile bubble of safety interrogating why.
I drew a comic adaptation of the RUR theatre play three years ago.... This year was published a new edition (in Czech), so here is a little thing to celebrate it ♥
(also...maybe there will be an English version next year *_*)
last day burned down inspiration for this piece, one of the biggest buildings of Zlín's Svit industrial area. Zatraceněě....I drew 250pages inspired by that place,I feel such a loss ×_×
But he couldn’t stay out of Eddie’s bed for long. Steve loved him, loved sleeping with him, even if he knew it would just make things harder for him in the long run.
Eddie didn’t want him back—he’d made that clear when he shattered Steve’s heart, after the kids nagged and badgered to get Eddie to tell them what his “type” was. It was, clearly, the opposite of Steve.
But when they fell into bed together, Steve could pretend for a bit. Eddie kissed him like he cared about him. Indulged Steve in post-coital cuddling. It was amazing food for his delusions.
He was just hurting himself, the way he had with Nancy, going on like nothing was wrong long after it became clear they would never work out. If Eddie found out he was using him as fulfillment for his fantasies, pretending their hookups meant Eddie loved him too, that would be the end of their friendship. But the other option was ending this, and he hated that even more.
He knocked on the trailer door, condom burning a hole in his pocket.
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