tutor!satoru leaving helplessly, splayed across your mattress with the knitted fabric of your sweater bunched around your chest.
tutor!satoru being the result of yet another ‘failed study session’ because he loved the new shade of gloss you’ve been wearing recently.
tutor!satoru in his junior year, renowned for his sheepish charisma and exceptional academic status.
tutor!satoru, the same boy pushing loose black frames up his nose bridge and occasionally tending to library assistant duties—leaving you entirely blissed during his free hours.
tutor!satoru with your lacy panties caught between his teeth as he rammed his thick length between your drenched folds.
tutor!satoru fucking you raw after he spent what felt like hours pumping his tongue in and out of your entrance. The cool barbell scraping your slippery walls, enhancing the pleasure far more than necessary.
tutor!satoru who’s body looked as if it was meticulously sculpted by Greece’s finest. The meaty muscle of his biceps typically hidden beneath oversized NASA t-shirts.
tutor!satoru who saves your frilly little panties for later use of course. And then he’ll buy you new lacy panties for future study sessions.
tutor!satoru who has such a soft way of speaking, his words of encouragement in your ear when he whispers, “Tell me how you want it, baby. Tell me you need my cock inside you. Beg me to fuck you.”
tutor!satoru who clenches the flimsy fabric of your panties in his fists when he jerks off. The thought of your pouty lips wrapped around something far more enticing than a pastry.
tutor!satoru fucking you better each time as a reward whenever you scored high on a calculus test. The metal barbell pierced in his tongue nudging your clit whenever he sucked lightly.
tutor!satoru establishing his care for you in public. Whenever it be minor gestures of affection or buying stuff for you—he’s adamant on ensuring you’re cared for.
tutor!satoru maintaining professional relationships with other students as a tutor. Making sure you knew his infatuation was purely fixed on you.
tutor!satoru who bathes you after hours of sex which eventually becomes another round in the shower. Essentially pampering you after leaving your legs weak.
Seeing all the work shared for the E - 404 zine by so many artists and writers gave me a huge craving for my favorite skelebro. I can't remember if I've shared this one yet, but if I did I'm bringing it back! It was a commission from my dear Tyraxes, based on their OC, Eclipse, and over a very emotional chapter of Kasbaka's novel, in which Error plays a pivotal role (Peace Talks)
I absolutely love it to pieces!! ( ꈍᴗꈍ)💛💛
Shadow of Eclipse /Kasbaka // Error by CQ // Eclipse by Tyraxes
let's compile a list of things that made olden times people go "well fuck it that's got to be magic or something what the fuck" and you can't even laugh at them for being ignorant because what the fuck
ill start with crinoid fossils aka fairy money:
these little stone stars are fossils of something like a sea urchin or a starfish and found all over the UK. they also look exactly like the kind of coins fairies would use.
summary: your life had settled into something small, safe even-- until ellie's newest song cracks it wide open. every lyric is a ghost of you, of her, of what neither of you ever said out loud. you shouldnt care anymore, but you do, and that might be the worst part.
cw: strong language, ooc ellie, modern au, use of y/n, rockstar!ellie
word count: 1004
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laughs are memories. if you think hard enough about it. they cling to the people you shared them with. its fucking terrifying to realise that one summer youre playing dolls in your bedroom with your best friend... and then suddenly youre here. working 40+ hours a week. no friends. a boss whos basically a bull, only opening her mouth to tell you what youre doing wrong. customers chucking coffee at you. family cut off. and her... the worst part... shes not in your life anymore. after everything that happened, why would she be?
you dusted off the display glasses for the tenth time that day, desperate to push time forward, but time refused to budge. eventually, though, your shift ended. you pulled off your faux brown leather apron and hung it on the hook by your locker, grabbed your bag, and practically scurried out of the coffee shop like a mouse bolting from a broom.
you stepped outside, inhaled the "fresh" city air -- and instantly regretted it -- then headed down the street toward home. your phone came out automatically, thumb scrolling through random posts... until one stopped you cold.
a rockstar girl. familiar face. sharp jaw. tattoos. that damned smirk.
holy shit.
ellie fucking williams.
you clicked on the post instinctively, reading through the comments, frozen on the sidewalk.
"holy. fucking. shit."
who wouldve guessed? your ex best friend turned rockstar. discovery of the goddamn century.
ellie releasing another banger is definitely what i had on my bucket list.
another:
i swear ellie writes these songs about someone... theres just too much truth for it NOT to be about a real person.
and then--
ellie pls tell us who this is aboutttt we're desperate!!!
you swiped through the collage she posted: her in the studio, her strumming her guitar like it was the last thing tethering her to the world.. and then it hit you.
that was your guitar.
the one you gave her for her birthday.
the last time you saw her
the last time you spoke.
the last everything.
you shut off your phone with something close to rage and kept walking, breath uneven. the thoughts in your head didnt slow -- not even by the time you reached your apartment building.
you step inside your apartment and shut the door with a heavy thud, kicking off your shoes in a rush before collapsing onto the couch. your phone is in your hand again before you even realise it--open, glowing, begging you to keep stalking her page.
and then you see it.
"its never to late to come back, butterfly."
butterfly.
the nickname she whispered when you cried about your parents.
butterfly.
the name she only ever use when your life was falling apart--when she wanted you to believe she could piece you back together.
your stomach twists. where did she get the fucking nerve?
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shared giggles filled the room; you never stopped laughing when you were with her.
"y/n, promise we'll never leave each other?"
ellie's voice cut through your laughter, soft but serious. you turned your head on the carpet to look at her. she was lying beside you, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it held answers.
"i promise," you said. "we'll always have each other."
you rolled onto your side and reached for her hand, hooking your pinky with hers.
ellie finally looked over at you, something fragile shining in her aventurine eyes. her lips parted--as if she was about to confess something--then closed again. whatever she almost said swallowed back into silence.
your pinkies stayed linked for a beat before she let her fingers drift down, folding over yours in full, warm grip--like she was afraid to let go first.
"do you ever wonder what we'll be like when we're all grown up?" her voice cuts through the quiet--fragile, almost scared.
"yeah... but isnt that the point of childhood? to wonder how we're gonna turn out?"
she looked back up at the ceiling and gave your hand a soft squeeze. "i guess so... what do you think we'll both be like?"
a small smile tugged at your lips as you mirrored her stare. "famous. we'll both be famous. we'll walk red carpets hand in hand and live in a luxurious penthouse with two cats--one of them has thumbs."
she let out a breathy laugh. "thumbs?"
"yes! thumbs. his name will be thumpy."
"and the other cat?"
"stumpy." you fired back instantly, like youd been waiting your whole life for her to ask.
she turned to look at you, her eyes were filled with something different now--something you couldnt quite name. it wasnt fear, or sadness, or even that soft curiosity she usually saved just for you. it was something deeper, something that made your chest feel too tight for a moment.
"i cant wait."
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the song blares through the speaker in your living room, a strange kind of fresh air that you didnt ask for. that voice--her voice--fills the space like it always used to fill your head at night, singing you to sleep when your eyes were too heavy to stay open. the guitar, too. the same one that she wrote that stupid little medley on just fot you. every note feels like a memory trying to claw its way back into your chest
"you haunt the halls of every song i write."
you close your eyes, letting the line loop as the song replays again and again. and again. each repeat makes something click sharper, clearer, crueler.
she ruined "us."
she ruined everything you couldve had.
then, a voicemail, at the end of the song, her voice, that you loved, then learned to hate-
"if you listen to this, youll know i never learned to forget you. youll always be the one in my dreams, the one invading my thoughts, the one fluttering around my life like a butterfly. i love you, forever and always, this isnt a goodbye, merely a see you later."
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a/n: OMG this took practically all day to write, but im so glad i did!! i changed up the way i wanted this fic to go numerous times before settling for a modern au. this is also my first time writing a fic, so please, give me your opinions!!!! i will be updating frequently on my page about the progress of ch2. if you want to be added to the taglist, please lmk!!! liking and reblogging help me alot, thank ya, mwah xx
9 days to save 400 LGBTQ+ Refugees.
$50 to save one life. ️️️
… Mason Magana needs your support for Save The Lives of 400 LGBTQ Refugee
This is Ashley Phil (she/they), a trans refugee and leader of a queer refugee group in East Africa.
Her group of over 400+ queer individuals have been asked to leave their country before May 27th or they will be removed at gun point.
They have been granted temporary asylum in a neighbouring country so long as they can pay for their own travel. They need about 50USD per person to do so, which means $20k in total.
Please consider donating what you can. These people are in danger of being imprisoned or even killed if they are not gone by the deadline they were given.
