#i hope its okay that i wrote this

[prettyboykatsuki]

I NEED YOU EXCITED, I DON'T WANNA FIGHT IT | Y. OKKOTSU

✵ tags ; established relationship, friends to lovers, afab +fem!reader, forward!reader, back and forth power dynamics, dry-humping, hickies / marking, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, riding. fingering, dirty talk, 18+

✵ wc ; 7.3k (good lord)

✵ a/n ; written with my beloved @princess-okkotsu in mind!! i hope i did your boy justice </3 and thank u for everything literally wouldn't have passed chem w/o you

so not used to have such little warnings on a fic. lol. title is from fire and desire by drake.

✵ synopsis ; yuta wants to do right by you which is why he's so determined to take your relationship slowly. well, he tries too, anyway.

Yuta Okkotsu is a believer of doing things the right way. 

He repeats this to himself like a mantra as he hangs out alone in your bedroom. He closes his eyes, elbows resting on the little table, face buried in his palms. Maybe it’s closer to a form of manifestation - like if he says it with enough hooplah it will mean something more than a jumble of words and syllables. 

He must clarify that he is trying to do the right thing right now. He is trying so very hard to do the right thing because Yuta Okkotsu wants to remain righteous where possible. 

It’s part of his job as a sorcerer, now well into his 20’s and more conscious of the world around him. He’s strong enough to put his money where his mouth is and experienced enough to know that trying to maintain some ethical code is part of staying alive in this business. 

And it’s not that Yuta considers himself particularly upright. His friends and colleagues often tell him that he’s a bit unhinged and hard to get a read on. His morals might not always align with greater society, but he never does something that goes against his own beliefs. A lot of which can be summarized quite easily ; anything to defend his comrades.

It really is so important for Yuta to try and be civil in these aspects. Lest he fall into something truly dark. Even he knows what he’s capable of, at least a little. 

That’s why he’s left with no choice than burying all of his thoughts of you and using every ounce of energy he has to suppress it as deep as it can go 

You know, with all the love that’s influenced his life and all of the years he’s spent  learning to be less timid - none of it seems to matter when it comes down to you and him. The logistics of a relationship and the idea of one are two very different things. When it comes to your relationship, he’s been keen in adhering to his strict timeline of milestones. First date, first hand-holding, first deep kiss. It’s a matter of honoring you - because before being boyfriend and girlfriend, you were Yuta’s comrade and companion. Before your relationship status, you're his cherished and valued person. 

So because he’s chivalrous. Because he’s romantic. Because he cares about you. 

And also because the sheer  magnitude of his desires for you perpetually leaves him in a state of distress and disarray. It’s all of the above, all at the same time. And sometimes it leaves him a little overwhelmed. 

He barely manages in his daily life but this? This is torturous. 

Being in your bedroom unprompted is destroying every ounce of self-restraint he’s built through these last three months. He’s made it through your relentless bullying without giving into his Earthly desires.

It’s just too ideal in a way, being in here. Everything feels like you. There’s pictures of your friends and family around the room. Everything has your scent. Your clothes are littered on the floor and hung over the back of your desk-chair. It’s so you and Yuta loves you and he’s not going to survive being in here despite it all.

It’s embarrassing. Yuta is not the timid teenager he once was. But for all the ways he’s good at standing his ground, his demeanor is all but worthless when it comes down to you.

You’re a few years his senior and you’ve always been a slippery character. He’s enriched by your curiosity of the world. You’re a researcher and archivist of cursed information, coming out of the Kyoto branch. You have plenty of accolades and always manage to teach him something new and come out of difficult things on top. 

Mostly, Yuta recognizes all of the good in your heart. He really thinks very highly of you.

There was an obvious passion for your work that Yuta was endeared by in the initial stages of your relationship. Plus you were easy to talk to. You’ve been a good friend to Yuta for years now, ever since you called on him to do some research on him and Rika. And, as the years passed you became closer until one night it hit him that his feelings of admiration were a little closer to something like love. 

And with big, wet tears in his eyes (and a fair bit of liquor in his system) he blubbered about his feelings for you. He isn’t sure what reaction he was expecting at the time. You were happy which was great, but there was also something so lax about it all. Yuta remembers it so vividly. The way you waltzed up to him, tucked some hair behind his ears and kissed him gingerly with all the confidence in the world. Like it mattered but it didn’t. Like nothing could be more obvious than your feelings for each other. 

“I’m pretty crazy about you too, Okkotsu-san.” 

After asking if that meant you were dating like the bumbling, lovesick fool he is - you officially began going out as a couple. And at first, it was smooth sailing. It wasn’t too different from your usual hangouts.

Eventually though, you had pointed out that it doesn’t really feel like you were dating. Suggested that maybe sleeping together would help break the ice a little. That was what started this moral dilemma. 

Being honest, it wasn’t like Yuta hadn’t considered it. What thoughts he cooked up while alone in the sanctity of his bedroom is between him and the heavens only. It was just the way you suggested it. You saying it made it all feel so real. And Yuta wasn’t sure how to deal with that. He wants to cherish you so much that he felt like he couldn’t consider your offer too lightly. 

And he told you as much, hand in yours and red-faced to which you only blew some hair out of his eyes and laughed. A simple okay, a nod, and a kiss.

Of course, if everything had been smooth sailing this would be a different thing altogether. While Yuta had declined sleeping with you too soon, you had absolutely no plans to make his life easy. He’s not sure how much of it is on purpose. Knowing you, probably a lot. You’re a smart girl, after all.

So all of your bending over and tongue kissing before going home and selfies that just border on boudoir are probably very purposeful. But he’s endured it all. He should cherish you more. He’s been determined to not give in. 

The fact he’s all but ready to blow his load over just being in your room makes him feel pathetic. And maybe he is, a little. But only for you. 

Yuta likes to think of himself as a collected individual. Really.  He knows being this worked up over something as innocuous as his girlfriends room is ridiculous. He knows he’s being ridiculous.

But he really, really wants to uphold his beliefs here. So he’s stiff, sitting with his hands clasped and holding it together just barely. 

He practically jumps out of his skin when you return to your room with a tray of refreshments. 

“Woah, Yuta. You okay?”

He turns around to look at you. A mistake, apparently. His eyes land on the sight of your bare legs before he forces himself to meet your eyes. You’re so pretty to him. Always so beautiful without any effort. 

“Huh? Yeah. Sorry, just got lost in thought.”

You put the tray down on the table in front of him before sitting on the edge of your bed - facing him. The distance between you is minimal. You reach out to pet the top of his head with the palm of your hand, scratching his jaw tenderly. Yuta feels loved by the touch. 

“You sure? Looks like you saw a ghost.”

Your genuine worry makes his spine feel like it’ll melt. He puts his hands over yours, rubbing his cheek against your palm.

“Promise I’m okay. Just—it's nothing serious.” 

“Mm. Even if it’s nothing serious, I wanna know what stuff you’re worried about, ‘kay? So tell me if you want.”

He feels unsteady but so happy. 

“Thank you, my love.”

“Yeah, of course. You wanna keep sitting on the floor or…?”

The minute you ask him, he feels the hair stand up on his neck. 

“The bed…?”

You give him a look of confusion before you break out into a knowing grin.

“Oh, I forgot. I mean to remain chaste, my liege. Just wanna cuddle a bit.”

“Are you making fun of me?” He asks, not masking the pout in his voice. 

You tilt your head to one side, leaning  back on your palms. 

“A little,” You say mischievously, shrugging “I’m used to your lifestyle of celibacy.” 

He frowns at you. “It’s not like that, I just want to—“

“I just want to cherish you because I love you and want you for more than sex yadda yadda yadda. I know. And I respect your wishes even if I think it’s silly.” You say, taking the words right out of his mouth. His frown deepens.

“It’s not silly to me.” He says, almost petulantly. At this, you grab his face in your hands which catches him off-guard. You knock your forehead against his, bent over to do it. 

“I know that too, you dummy. The point is that I’m not trying to get in your pants right now.”

He can’t help but smile, pulling away to kiss at your wrist. You giggle. 

“Well, what do you want?”

“To be wrapped up in each other like otters.”

“So romantic.”

“Right? So get up here.” 

He gives in sooner rather than later. You scoot till your back is along the wall next to your bed and Yuta wastes no more time in joining you. Your bed is crazy comfortable. Just laying it in makes him want to fall asleep almost immediately. He gets cozy  before directing his gaze to you in front of him. He feels like he’s gonna throw up and the only thing that’ll come out is his heart. You give him a look of amusement. 

“Enjoying the view?” You tease. He laughs, leaning forward to tuck his face into your neck.

“Yeah. Smells like you,” 

“So cute.” 

“Don’t know how to feel about being called cute.” He says honestly. He peers up at you and you’re giggling and he can feel his heart rate sky-rocket. You twirl a piece of his hair around your index finger. 

“You’re cute and cool and handsome. Better?” 

“Yeah. Yes.” 

“Mm,” You respond. He looks at you as your expression drifts off somewhere. He can’t take his eyes away from your face “Sorry you had to stay over.” 

“It’s fine. It’d be a shame if you didn’t get anything to look over while we were there. If you make any breakthroughs, it’d be good for Gojo-sensei.” 

“You still call him that even though you graduated so many years ago?”

He flushes slightly. 

“Force of habit. My point stands.” 

“Mhm. Thanks for being so supportive. I didn’t think it was that late, y’know? I would’ve tried to hurry if I knew,” You say thoughtfully “But I like having you over.” 

He gives you a once over as he pulls away, eyes flitting to your lips. You give him a small grin. 

“Kiss me.” 

He looks at you apologetically. 

“That’s not fair. We can’t kiss? Making out doesn’t count as intimate relations, Yuta.” 

“Okay, but it can lead to them.” 

“If it’s that serious, I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

“Wait, no.” 

“Then kiss me.” 

He sighs. 

“Just kissing, okay?” 

“Okay, you monk.” 

He laughs at the comment before pressing his lips to yours tenderly. You have no such intent of leaving it that way - your hand on immediately on the nape of his neck. The softness of your tongue makes Yuta feel like there’s fizz in his head - like the water inside of him is seltzer. He thought you would at least try to give him some mercy. 

He probably shouldn’t expect that from his favorite girl. He pulls away, out of breath. A little line of saliva breaks off between you. Your grin is eye-catching, like glass in the sun. Yuta wouldn’t mind burning in the magnitude of your light. 

“Just kissing,” He emphasizes, trying to be firm. You hum, hand on his cheek. You rub your thumb on his lip tenderly, looking at him square in the eyes. He’s stronger than this, he swears. 

“We are just kissing though?” 

“Baby.” He frowns. A laugh bubbles up from your stomach and he’s so entranced by it he nearly forgets what he’s trying to convince you of. 

“Since when is making out too naughty? Teenagers do stuff like that, Yuta. We’re grown-ups.” 

“That’s the whole problem.” He says back in faux exasperation. You look like you’re going to kiss him again, but you lean into his ear instead. Your breath is warm and ticklish against his skin. 

“Yuta,” You murmur with such clear intent he feels himself break down under the weight “Can’t we have sex, hm?” 

Blood rushes down to his dick so fast he’s embarrassed. He stares at you as you pull away, a look  in your eyes that makes him want to collapse. Of course he does. He wants to have so much sex with you so often it’s starting to drive him up a wall. Is there anyone in the world other than him masochistic enough to turn down the offer? He’s doubtful to say the least. 

“I want to,” He admits. You beam and nod. Your hand slides down to squeeze his waist. He swallows thickly. 

“Yeah? Then why can’t we?” 

“I just..don’t want to rush things,” He replies with as much conviction as he possibly can. The sincerity must reach you because you soften a little “We’ve known each other for a long time. And it was already hard to get here. I just want to make sure it’s right.” 

“You’re so thoughtful,” You murmur to him, running over his hip bone with your thumb “And that makes you really sexy, you know?” 

“What if it gets all messed up?” 

“Our relationship is stronger than that, yeah. It can withstand a handjob.” 

He groans at your vulgarity before laughing. 

“I’m being serious!” 

“I know and that’s so sweet of you. But I really, really don’t think it’ll be that bad if we have sex. We might fuck like rabbits for a few days but that’s not really the end of the world.” 

He feels heat creep up his next as you nuzzle your nose against his, whispering softly. 

“And doesn’t that sound nice? Cooped up in this little room, fucking each others brains out. Just you and me.” 

He feels his dick steel against his will. He looks at you seriously, a fire in his expression. 

“You’re being unfair.”  

“Who, me? Never. I’m just telling you what I think.” 

He groans in complaint. Is this the right thing to do? He doesn’t think so. But it’s not like he doesn’t want to. He really, really wants to have sex and there’s never been such a perfect opportunity. You’re a little too good at turning him on and he’s a little too pent up to think about it more clearly. It feels like the only thing he can think about, a side-effect of this whole conundrum. There is a right way to go about this and he can’t say for certain yours isn’t the one. 

Plus the vivid picture you’ve painted of the two of you fucking in a room for hours is making his whole body burn up with lust. Fuck, the things he could do to you in all that time without it ever being enough. 

Yuta didn’t know he was aching for you so badly until he was this close to having you. 

“Baby,” He can feel how deep his voice is getting. It’s taking all of his strength to keep it in. 

“How do you want me? Tell me. You’ve been thinking about me right?”

“Always,” He confesses, staring at you without any restraint “Always thinking of you.”  

“Doing what?”

Oh. This is… 

Oh.

“I’ve never seen you naked.”

“Then you daydream about seeing me naked? How tame.” 

“It’s more than that, it’s—I want to make you feel good. You’re so good to me. And I wanna…”

You stare at him. You’re so cheeky. 

“You wanna?”

“Want you to feel good. But because of me. All because of me.”

A wave of heat passes through him. He looks at you and you look...different. You look turned on, fingers carding through his hair. Right now all Yuta can think about is how much he wants. A word with so much weight behind it he can hardly keep up. God doesn’t Yuta want you more than he’s ever wanted anything. 

The room feels like it’s hotter than it was a few seconds last. A thick tension spreads over everything like jam. Yuta is too dazed to do anything. He can only watch as you sit up. You guide him to lay on his back and climb on top of him with ease. Your thighs feel warm and soft as you straddled him, taking his hands to put them on your waist.

He slides them up underneath your shirt lightly, enough to feel the warmth of your skin on his calloused fingers. Your eyes lock as you lean forward the slightest bit, caging Yuta in with your hand next to his head. 

“So possessive,” You tease, seeing right through him like you usually do. He really is. He thought he was a little better at hiding it “Already all yours, Yuta.” 

That makes his dick twitch. You must feel it because you laugh at him about it and his hands grip even tighter. He’s gonna lose his mind, being swept up by you so easily. He’s gotten so used to forfeiting restraint. Always goes in head first because that’s how cowards have to learn to fight. But he’s forgotten how to hold back. How to suppress. 

Right now, he feels like an animal. He feels like a restless hound dog, straining against the spiked collar he’s tried to keep himself in place. What does that make you, he wonders? 

In an attempt at transparency, he looks at you and says “I want you so much.”

And your reply is about all the permission he needs. 

“Then take me,” 

Yuta heeds your words and takes. It’s easy to flip you both over from where you are. He mumbles an apology as you yelp in surprise - and he hopes you’ll forgive him for his impatience. He’s been picturing this for months now. He knows what he wants, and that’s you on your back with him on top of you - making you feel so fucking good you can’t stand it. He slots his legs between yours, hovering over you as your bodies press into each other. 

You wrap your arms around Yutas neck with ease and he leans in to kiss you passionately. Despite where you are, it’s clear you're helping set the pace. Yuta is eager to follow. It starts off slow enough but when you pull away once, you're opening your mouth enough to let him in deeper. You stick your tongue out and Yuta follows suit. Everything is so hot he feels like it’ll burn, and you taste like mint toothpaste. He likes swapping spit with you like this, the messy way the drool runs down his chin and yours like you can’t get enough for each other. 

He has no idea how long you stay like that. Just kissing is a dangerous game. The nip of your mouth and the press of your incisors in his lower lip leave him shuddering. His hard cock is pressed against your abdomen, and he can’t help himself but hump into the soft plush of your tummy. Even through the stiff material of his jeans he can feel you. 

He quivers and whimpers into your mouth but you swallow the noise with delight. Your fingers find themself at the nape of his hand reaching up, tugging at the root. You pull away to give him a chance to breathe. He sounds pathetic, he knows it, but fuck he can’t hold it in anymore. Your voice is cool and collected yet rich and heady. It feels like a salve to his raw nerves, calming to him. He closes his eyes and humps into you and everything feels like it’ll disappear. Yuta just wants to give into his base needs. He wants to be all yours as much as he wants you to be all his and everything is so tangled up in his mind. 

“That feel good, Yuta?” 

“Y-yeah. Yes. Oh, yes.” 

You giggle at him a little and Yuta looks up at you. Look at the swell of your lips and the flush and sheen on your skin. Too much, too much, too much. 

But not enough at the same time, he rubs his cock against you again, harder. 

“So pent up,” You comment smoothly and Yuta groans in agreement “Why don’t I help you a little?” 

Unsure of what you mean, he stares at you hazily. You push him off, making him stand to his knees and he watches you as your hands come to the ends of your shirt. You pull it off over your head and toss it somewhere. You have nothing on underneath. His mouth dries out almost completely. Bare skin of your shoulders and the curve of your neck and your chest so open. Your nipples are hard against the cool air, standing to attention.

Your b0dy is so much sexier than he could’ve conjured up in his head. The real thing doesn’t even compare, and the way you move as you take off the rest is so fucking mesmerizing. Yuta watches you take off your pants next -  you put your legs up to slide them off. 

There’s not a single part of you that Yuta doesn’t want to claim for himself. He traces the outline of your legs, the bend of your knee and the arch of your foot. He should worship you, after all - he was right for trying to restrain it before. If he had this in the beginning, he’s afraid of what kind of person he might become. He’s scared of it even now.

 Yuta is of course the type of man to get sick on his own devotion. He’s always been like that. That’s what the rings on his hands always mean. He wants to make himself sick on you. 

Nothing could be more intense than just watching you undress, he doesn't think. You toss your shorts somewhere, but leave your panties on. Yuta still has his clothes on. The only barrier between you now is a thin layer of cotton. There’s a damp spot on it. He can’t stop his hand from reaching out, pressing into it with his thumb as gently as he can. You gasp. His eyes go wide. 

“It’s okay,” You assure, a smile on your face “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

He hums, dumbstruck, and smooths his thumb over the seam. There’s something salacious about the boundary itself. The material that’s keeping him from just taking you. 

“C-can you leave them on..? For a bit?” He asks. You blink twice. Even if you’re confused, there’s not any judgment. Yuta really does love you. 

“Uh-huh. If you want me too,”  

You give him the floor this time, Yuta thinks. He takes his shirt off too. He doesn’t take his jeans off completely, though. Only unzips them, pushing them down past his boxers to give him some breathing room. And with that he’s back on top of you. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips but moves down towards your jaw. The little fluttery sigh that leaves you makes everything close in around him. Like it’s only you two in the entire world. He leaves them down your neck, down your collarbone and sternum. Warm open mouth kisses trying all over every inch of you. 

His hands shake as he reaches out for your chest. You chuckle and reach for him. Guide them to squeeze your tits firm, a cheeky look in your eye. He tries to take more confidence in it now. Gropes the fat between his fingers, palms over your nipples in appreciation. He’s entranced by it, pushing them together and teasing the hardened buds with the pads of his fingers.

“So pretty,” He mumbles, mostly to himself “You’re so pretty,” 

“You’re pretty too, Yuta.” 

He can feel a blush crawl up his skin. He ducks his head down to take your nipples into his mouth. You let out a soft moan of pleasure that encourages him to suck harder on one and use his fingers to tease you where his mouth can’t reach. Your sighs are shaky and you're gently losing your composure.

 He wants to shatter you completely. 

He grabs your thighs and encourages you to wrap your legs around his waist. And you do with his guidance, a well of desire about to burst within him. He adjusts until his cock is snug against your clothed cunt. A broken oh, leaves your lips and Yuta humps into you, shifting until he hits the sweet spot. Your voice sounds again, pitchy and melodic like a wind chime and that’s when Yuta knows he has it. 

He has you right where he wants you now. Bodies pressed into each other and so involved, so together. Yuta can feel you everywhere. He’s always been in sync with you but every notch is turned to ten. The shallow rise and fall of your stomach, the slightest tenseness in your spine that melt away when he gives you a little attention. He has you in his grasp but he wants to hold onto you tighter. He feels like he’s been struck by lightning, the way his nerves are revved up.

He focuses on where your lower bodies meet, tongue poked between his lips and furrow in his brow. Drives his clothed, hard cock against your cunt, catching the crown into your clit until you’re shaking underneath him. There’s something so primal about it that Yuta can’t take it. He can’t think clearly anymore, lost in the feeling of dull pleasure. If it feels so good like this, being inside you might be too much. You’re both naked mostly except for where you both need each other. So close in proximity that Yuta can hear each of your short pants. Erratic and almost thoughtlessly driven by one single thing, pleasing you. Feeling each other, all wrapped up together. There’s something romantic about the mutual desperation. 

Drawing out those moans as he sucks at your tits, making you feel how hard he is. How pent up and needy and fucking horny he is all for you. 

Just humping your soft, sweet little cunt through your panties makes Yuta want to risk everything he’s got. The push and pull of too much and  not enough at the same time.  It’s so fucking euphoric. Your fabric keeps wetter and wetter, and Yuta doesn’t know if it’s you or him - his pre-cum dribbling through his boxers. Mixing together so that there’s less friction than there should be, material all soaked through and tacky. 

He can feel your pussy pulse and tremble. Your spine goes stiff and Yuta pulls away to look at you. You’re beautiful. You’re on edge, in complete bliss and so fucking beautiful. 

“Oh, oh, Yuta - shit, like that. G-gonna, gonna,” 

He doesn’t know what overtakes him, but he babbles on pulling away. 

“Cum for me, please—fuck, baby, p-please, need it,” 

You cum the first time just like that. For Yuta, humping each other like two lovesick teenagers. All for him you get all broken. He can’t help but burn the image of you underneath in his head forever. He needs to see it all again. 

“Oh, that felt so fucking good,” The praise feels like it’s being injected into his bloodstream“You make me feel sho good,” 

The slight slur in your words and praise all together makes him too happy. He kisses you, sloppy and lovedrunk, tongues touching and teeth chattering. 

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” Yuta says with as much conviction as any one man could have. You laugh so loud it makes him smile. “I don’t wish well for anyone you dated before me.”  And you laugh again even louder. 

“You sound polite even when you’re threatening people.”  You say with nothing but affection. Yuta wants more. He wants you. Even with this quiet lull, he’s thinking about how he can get you to cum again. 

He nudges his nose to your cheek, kissing the corner of your mouth before he talks. 

“I want you to do it again,” He states, slow and steady, trying to feel out your willingness “And then I want to fuck you,”

“Wanna fuck me after you make me a mess?” You say, much more bluntly than he has. You’re not wrong “Are you a sadist after all, Yuta?”

“You look good when you’re messy. ‘s not my fault.” He replies, a little bite to his words. This delights you to the point he's proud. He does his best not to look uncool and this one time he’s succeeded. 

“Make a mess of me, Yuta,” You encourage, probably because you know he needs it. And he does “I want it.” 

“Yeah,” Comes his reply, as he pulls himself off of you “Me too,” 

The pace slows down now. The room smells of sex and Yuta can still feel the blood rushing in his ears but nothing so frantic. He lays you back, your legs undoing from behind him and resting. Yuta kisses your sternum first, a wave of emotion running through him. He puts his hands on your sides, sliding them down to meet your hips and squeezing tight. 

He kisses his down your body like it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. He can feel you curl in above him - not completely. But you seem a little astonished, and he'd be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel like he accomplished something. He works his way lower slowly, rubbing small circles into your skin as often as he can. Caressing you and committing your body to memory. He wants you to feel him as much as he’s feeling you, to feel his touch. The tension in the air is strengthened by his silence. 

If he were saying anything it’d be something like this. Like can you feel it? how much i love you? or i want all of you. Things he can’t often muster up the strength to say. He’s good with his words but not good enough to communicate all of it so bluntly. Yuta is brave in areas other than love. Sometimes your adoration makes all the words clog in his throat. This is better for him, the physicality brings him peace of mind. 

He likes how you feel. Your skin is much softer when he compares it to his, feels so different and more plush and comfortable. Yuta likes taking you in his hands and kneading the skin gently enough to relax you. Lower and lower, a trail of wet marks until he’s close to your clothed cunt. He stares at the sticky material, kissing it feather light before redirecting his attention to your thighs. 

He starts again, at the bend of your knee - and works his way inward. He’s rougher now, taking time to mark up your inner thigh with precision. Yuta can’t help himself, placing kisses in the last places his teeth bit you. He does it again and again, up along one thigh and then moving to the other until you’re covered in them. 

You’re trembling with anticipation. A sense of contentment washes over Yuta as his breath fans over your cunt, so completely soaked the fabrics a different color. His tongue runs over the material, a shameless moan of pleasure leaving his mouth. You arch your back, hands reaching to take root in his hair. The sensation of tension on his scalp makes his cock twitch. It’s salty and a little bitter, the mix of his pre-cum and yours altogether. Yuta goes to do it again anyway. The mess of it gets him excited, unconsciously rubbing into the sheets underneath him. 

“O-oh, Yuta.” 

He shivers, hands planing over the tops of your thighs as he brings him down close to him. 

“Yeah, yeah baby. Just me and you,” 

A soft laugh leaves your mouth. Yuta can feel how worked up you are. You’re quiet and tense. Some part of him wants to leave you like that waiting, but the other part of him wants to give you everything you’ve ever asked for. He gives into the latter, because that’s what he wants more. Rolls the fabric off of your legs with a deep sigh, a pleased hum. He loves the way you smell, the scent of sex and arousal mixed with the fancy soaps you keep in your bathroom. Your pussy is as pretty as you are, a sheen of arousal all along your slit. Your clit peeks through, swelled from need. Yuta kisses it without thinking. 

He starts slow. Lays his tongue flat against the seam of your cunt before dragging it up. The taste of you covers his mouth, tangy and slightly sweet - Yuta can’t get enough of you. He moans in appreciation, repeating the gesture as he pulls your pussy close. His nose bumps into your sex. He peers up at you with his lashes. You’re so pretty it makes him want to please. He repeats this over and over - licking at your clit with enthusiasm. Your clit is hard and needy, throbbing against the soft, smooth muscle of his tongue as he gains a sort of rhythm. He gauges your reaction when he tries something new, adding pressure until you’re squirming underneath him. When you start growing noisier, Yuta knows he’s hit the right pace. 

And he stays like that, your pussy soaking his mouth and chin. He adjusts himself slightly, rubbing his fingers between your folds. You let out a soft oh above him, making him want to laugh. He keeps at it, his fingers sliding far enough to tease your entrance. Your hole is twitching without him having done much at all, his middle finger teasing and prodding. 

“Don’t t-tease so much,”  You pant. 

Yuta nearly blows his load listening to you talk like that. He didn’t think you could be so cute. He listens though, pushing his middle finger into you with ease. It doesn’t take too much effort. Your insides are so incredibly wet for him. Your walls are so soft and inviting, syrupy to the touch. Yuta loves feeling them. He gives you time to adjust to the new sensation, fucking in and out slow enough that the tension melts. He gets knuckle deep with his middle finger and when it doesn’t seem like you’re tense anymore - he goes and adds another. 

He does both in tandem - and there’s a period where it’s all a bunch of sensation for you. Eventually it stops being just a feeling, turns into pleasure. He curls his fingers up against you hard, rubbing the soft and spongy area and he can feel you practically lurch forward. Your spine arches, mouth dropped open in a soft ‘o’. Another feeling of pride spreads through his chest, his whole body. He wants you to let go again just like this. While he fingers your weepy cunt and with your clit in his mouth - he wants to see how far he can push. How wet you can get before he ever gets inside. 

Yuta isn’t one for competition or ego. He’s always been easy-going. But something about you being underneath him like this, moaning for him like this - makes him feel like he should put in a little more effort to prove himself. He wants to make you feel so good, wants to see your composure break down steadily. He wants you praise him for it, to fuck each other like animals in the thereafter of your second orgasm. He pushes towards that goal steadfastly, and soon enough your body catches up with him. 

Yuta can practically feel your stomach tighten. You let out a noise, a string of mismatched syllables like a warning. Yuta only hums in encouragement, keeping his pace exactly the same. Feeling it is incredible. His fingers can feel the way your walls tighten up so hard and the tremors of the aftermath. 

Your back curves in a C as you cum, hard for him and he can feel it. He can feel you cum. He can see you, see the pleasure crash into you like a tidal wave. A second. Yuta made you cum twice in a row and he’s already itching to do it a third. 

You practically pry him off as you ride the wave of your high. You sigh deeply, and Yuta licks his fingers. He waits for your adoration, pleased to receive as you pull him up for a kiss. 

“You’re so fucking good, Yuta,” You say and Yuta feels his resolve crumble. He needs to fuck you immediately “So, so good to me baby.” 

He whimpers into your mouth. “I need you.”

You laugh breathlessly, your hand reaching between your bodies to squeeze his cock. Yuta shudders and you giggle to yourself. 

“Yeah. Bet you’re feeling pent up, Yuta. How about I treat you this time? That okay?” 

“Treat me?” 

“By riding you,” You say, smiling at him. He gets chills from the offer “You want that?” 

“Oh. Oh, fuck - please. Please?” 

You smile at him. 

“Lay on your back, sweet boy.” 

Sweet boy. He swallows thickly but does as you say. Lays back and watches you climb over him a second time tonight - this time with a much more obvious intent. He can’t stop thinking about how gorgeous he finds you - no matter how many times he sees you, it’s not easy to get used to. 

You sit up on his lap, naked and beautiful, your hangs tugging down his boxers just enough to free his cock. He hisses at the sensation of air, then moans because your hand squeezed around the shaft. Yuta watches, bewitched, by how you spit into the palm of your hands and let it drip down onto his cock. You stroke until he’s covered in it, saliva making a mess of him. When he’s all wet, you scoot forward just slightly. A hand ends up on his chest as you pull your hips up. 

Guiding the tip to your hole, you sink down on Yuta finally. He can only recognize loosely that there’s no condoms to be seen but he doesn’t find it in himself to care. There’s a slight sensation of tension that quickly gives away to nothing but slick, white-hot pleasure. You feel amazing. It’s not like anything he’s ever felt in his entire life and each time you drop down another inch - he’s biting his cheek trying not to cum immediately. That’d be such a waste, even if you’ve promised to fuck like rabbits - Yuta wants to make this last long. 

You lower yourself steadily until all of him is inside. Your expression is slightly pinched, and your whole body trembles before you finally seem comfortable. You lean forward, your hand next to Yuta’s head as you look at him. 

“Cum when you feel like you need to, ‘kay?” 

Yuta just swallows. 

Before he gets a chance to adjust to the feeling, you pick your hips and slam them back down on his cock without breaking a sweat. Yuta nearly screams, his hands immediately shooting to your hips to try and slow you down. You give him a wry grin, He almost wants to plead for your mercy. 

“Want me to go slower?” 

“Please be nice.” 

You giggle but heed his request. Repeating the motion but slower as promised, you rock yourself steadily onto Yuta’s cock. The pace is controlled and smooth, a rhythmic pass of your hips over and over. Your insides feel like they’ll melt him completely, make him liquid from the inside out. You’re picturesque riding him, tits bouncing and leaned forward enough that Yuta can see the concentration on your face. He watches you find your own pleasure in it too - somewhere half-way between grinding and bouncing that makes you look so good. He feels so incredible like this. 

He moves his hands so they’re grabbing your ass and only moves with you slightly. Not enough to change the pace, but to meet you. The room is filled with the sound of skin hitting skin - a tacky smack as your bounces hard enough to hit Yutas thighs. Something about is so vulgar, but something about is so sensual. He can feel every nerve in his body standing on edge. Your hand moves gently between your bodies to tease your clit as you ride and Yuta can’t help but be impressed by your stamina. He feels so spoiled. Feels so mind-numbingly good he wants to go brain dead while you drain for everything he’s got. 

Your expression is blissed out as you hit your stride, absolutely debauched. He can feel you again, another rush of arousal. He’s getting better at telling when you’re close. Your pussy is so sloppy all for him, because of him. So messy that it’s dripping down his cock onto his balls, all over the sheets underneath you. He can feel you clench in anticipation - the sudden spasming in the build up. 

“Gonna cum again and I want you cum right after me, yeah baby? Can you do that?” 

Yuta groans. 

“Pleasepleaseplease.” Is all he can make out. You laugh, breathy. Your pace is still the same as you rub your clit. The third time you cum is less intense. It’s a shorter wave, a softer sort of orgasm that seems to ease you more than it does anything else. Even still, you clench around his cock hard - getting so much wetter than you were a minute ago. 

It’s in the tremors that Yuta finally feels in touch with himself again. He loses himself completely. Finally giving into the sensation that’s been drowning him, He feels it in his entire lower body. Every atom of him finally catching up to the high of the release. It’s so intense when he opens his mouth nothing comes out. His eyes shoot open then go back closed. The coil in his stomach loosens more slowly at first than all at once, like a car crash. When Yuta finally cums he sees nothing but white stars in his vision. He can’t scream, can’t speak - so he holds onto you tight and finishes to the sound of your gentle coaxing. Your voice is shot hoarse as you coo to him.

“That’s it baby, cum for me. That’s it, there you go.” Echoes around in his head. Cum spurts out of him, thick and hot in your walls and he doesn’t even try to pull out as he goes completely limp underneath you. 

When he opens his eyes back up again, you're both just as ragged as each other. Yuta can’t stop himself from laughing. He hugs you tight to his chest as you lay on top of him - naked bodies and tangled limbs. 

“I love you,” Yuta says blearily. You laugh. 

“I love you too, Yuta.” 

__ 

After you and Yuta manage the energy to shower, you find yourselves back in bed. It’s late when you’re finally ready to sleep, being in the same positions you were before. Only this time with new sheets. 

Yuta lets you into his arms, wrapping them around you as you nuzzle into his chest. 

“So. Was it worth breaking your rules?” 

Yuta can’t help but break out into laughter at your question. He nods his head, a flush on his expression. 

“Yeah. Yeah it was.” 

#yuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #yuta okkotsu smut #writing tag #i was NOT going to post this until i woke up later #but due to unforseen and horrendous circumstances i am alive #i wrote this for miss aleks i am literally so grateful for u kdsjknkjsd thank u sm #i hope it is okay!! its been a while since ive written him

[skitskatdacat63]

Nando being silly in S2E2 of his doc 🥺

#well...i wrote tags for this and queued it and yet it didnt post at all and was back in my drafts w no tags #tumblr never ceases to amaze me! #i wrote tags at like 4 am so i have no memory #and i dont realtl wanna write them again so I hope this vid speaks for itself #tho i will say: #i guess i find it cute how soft spoken and polite and silly he is in all these #i think its funny to see a 'celebrity' experience the same awkwardness of covid times #like when hes just awkwardly standing there and staring as his bag gets disinfected #and like seeing him w service workers and he tries to be somewhat serious and then cant help but be silly #THE SINGING PART IS THE BEST OKAY. #f1 #formula 1 #fernando alonso #we do a little bit of f1 #fernando(show) #fernando s2e2

[definitelynotshouting]

“The universe sings,” Grian said.

He sounds vaguely distant- like he’s speaking from hundreds of blocks away rather than right next to Mumbo.

He turns on his bed, slow halting movements, to face him.

“Did you know?”

Mumbo can only stare.

“…Sings?” He asks. He shifts on his chair.

Grian seems to want to nod, but aborts the motion halfway, and hums instead.

“Yeah. The code. It sings, if you listen close enough,” Grian mumbles.

Mumbo opens his mouth, then closes it again.

Grian exhales a long breath, and his eyes drift close.

“Can you hear it?”

Mumbo watches the way Grian’s chest rises and falls, shallowly, slowly.

He closes his eyes, and strains to hear.

He hears- Tango out in another room of the house, pacing circles around the kitchen. Mumbo can tell it’s Tango by the shuffle in his walk.

He can hear birds outside, twittering. Wind rustling through branches. An animal- a pig, maybe, trotting along some grass.

It’s quite calming really- but he doesn’t hear singing. At least, he doesn’t think he does?

When he opens his eyes again, it’s to Grian staring right at him.

Mumbo exhales in one sharp breath- he didn’t realise he’d stopped breathing- and meets Grian’s gaze.

“Did you mean like, actual singing or- or was that metaphorical? Because I can’t hear anything other than trees, mate,” he says, only half-joking.

Grian huffs a small laugh, and shakes his head.

“Nah, it’s not really singing-singing. It’s music, though. You’ve definitely heard some of it- discs. That’s the easiest way to hear it. But that’s- so few of what’s out there. There’s more music, if you know how to listen for it,” he hums. His eyes close again, and he leans more into the mattress.

Mumbo pauses, and thinks on that for a moment. Music discs, huh? He supposes it seems plausible, that there’d be more music out there.

But then why has he never heard it? Mumbo doesn’t ever recall hearing ‘the code sing’. If it’s tied into music discs, then is it naturally generated? Is hearing it a ‘watcher thing’?

Mumbo glances down at his hands, traces lines of dirt under his fingernails.

He nods, though Grian can’t see it anyway. He makes some vague ‘see you later’ comment he can’t bother to think about, and carefully gets to his feet.

At the doorframe, he peers back.

Grian lies there, breathing steadily.

Mumbo turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.

////

headcanon that the minecraft soundtrack can be heard in the code, but only if you're 'in harmony' with it. cue other headcanon of watchers being very aware of the code

HEY ANON. ANON. I ADORE THIS HOLY SHIT I FUCKING LOVE THIS HEADCANON???? The idea that the universe is constantly singing to itself, and you can hear that through the Greater Code if you really carefully listen, is something i lowkey want to canonize SO BADLY holy shit. And this is such a lovely snippet too, im always such a sucker for deeply layered conversations like this.... i adore how youve given so much depth to the sentence "the universe sings" and the implications of how and why Grian is hearing it so much right now. [THROWS UP BLOOD] IM OBSESSED.......

Also this Mumbo dialogue especially is on point youve done such a good job of capturing his little speech patterns :] STUNNING JOB ANON IM SO FLATTERED U WROTE THIS!!!!! I really think i might canonize this concept just for how absolutely amazing it is, im utterly obsessed with it

#shouting speaks #asks #hunger au #art for me #<- litcherally cannot remember if i have a specific fic for me tag or not IG I'LL FIND OUT ONCE I HIT POST... #THE IDEA THAT TJE SOUNDTRACK ARE SONGS THE UNIVERSE SINGS TO ITSELF.... IM GOING BUCKWILD #i mean its already canon the universe SINGS but u KNOW my ass is gonna be listening to the full soundtrack #tears in my eyes as i picture grian listening to it..... #i hope its okay to yoink this anon bc im enamoured with the concept truly #gods and the idea that the music discs are specifically fragments of the universe singing that you can ACTUALLY HEAR.... #i like to think that like. making music discs is p much like making custom ones the way theyre doing it #but sometimes. sometimes you find treasure discs #or you fashion it from the remains of a creeper.. and you get a little window into what the Greater Code sounds like #weeping forever and ever that u wrote this for me im saving this in my special little works inspired by hunger au folder rn #❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ #fic recs #long post #txt

[dipplinduo]

Fun fact about me: April 18th is my birthday! :)

And part of what I wanted to do to celebrate this year was to give back. Introducing * ~ a dipplinshipping birthday oneshot ~ * :

Rating: T

Summary:

Today was Kieran's birthday, but it was the last thing that mattered to him. In fact, he vowed it would never matter to him again. Instead, he would focus on things that would keep him strong: his battling, his strategizing, and his crown as the Blueberry Champion. His sister and the Elite Four won't stop asking him random questions, though, and if anyone brings up Juliana any more than they already have since she arrived as an exchange student, he's seriously going to lose it. But...why can't he stop thinking about her? And why is everyone acting so suspicious?!

A bittersweet birthday celebration fic for anyone who's had complicated feelings about their birthday. <3

Take this as a thank you to all of those who have followed my work and/or my Tumblr blog. I wouldn't have imagined having the support of this wonderful community on my last birthday, and I can't even begin to describe how encouraged and inspired I have felt to write since finding you guys. I have never written this much for this long, consistently, and your constant feedback and comments seriously brighten my day more than Juliana brightens up Kieran, LOL. Hope you enjoy this! <333

(And yeah, this fic is the "event based idea" that this poll was about. I thought it was so funny that some of you thought it was gonna be some devastating angst LMAOOOO. That's for after TTPD releases, tysm for the bday gift Taylor.)

#I legit was gonna go a bit of a wholesome route for S&S D but y'all said “nah” so I said “bet” and wrote Chapter 18™ instead #anyways #on a real note #seriously tysm for all the love & kind words & support #I hope this brings you some of the happiness you all constantly bring me #<3333 #my fics #dipplinshipping #kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana pokemon #juliana x kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana #juliana pokemon #juliana x kieran #I had fun with some references see if you can spot 'em all #now Im gonna run to bed #I have a busy day ahead of meeee #bye for now!! <3 #also yes I did lowkey contemplate teal mask Kieran instead #but my bias is allowed for today LMAO #what can I say #indigo disk Kieran is just elite #plus its fun to have the rest of the blueberry squad there #oKAY NOW IM SIGNING OFF BYEEEE #wouldnt be a dipplinduo post without me going back to edit tags #catch me editing typos later too lmfao #yes TTPD release technically falls on my bday in the time zone im currently in #will never ever shut up about that

[caesarinsalata]

So, this is gonna be a bit of a read, but I thought of a little AU idea and I kind of wrote a mock Prologue for it???

(yes I drew little doodles for it. End me lol)

Since it's set back in time when Xerxes was still a bustling empire, I figured Amestris would be in the 15th century of sorts. (Yes I know Amestris wasn't even made yet, but in this Medieval/Xerxes AU it is!)

Cause I looked into it and figured out Xerxes fell around 1480 or so?? So we're going with medieval Amestris.

It starts out with the trio being young (like 6 and 5 years of age) just so you have an idea.

So if y'all wouldn't mind taking a moment to read this little (3000?) Word excerpt I created out of my ass today, that would be awesome! Not promising it's in character or good 🤣👌🏽

TITLE: Achaemenid

PROLOGUE

Xerxes, a stand alone empire betwixt Xing and Amestris. No one dared challenge or overthrow this stretch of desert as a result of its King. He was ruthless and heartless at times. Yet Communicable and selfless at others. Alongside his majesty stilling the hearts of his enemies, no one particularly wanted such a vast wasteland. Nor could they grasp why an empire rose within the center of it.

The air surrounding Xerxes, upon approaching, was different somehow. No one could place it. All who came to the border of Xerxian territory felt as though something had passed through them or vice versa. The conspicuous distinction in the clearity of the desert sky on the other side of this “border” felt unnerving yet reassuring. At least the air looked sand free the closer the caravan trudged to their destination. The only effective means of travel in the desert was by camel back. Any other means was surely suicide.

“Are thee thirsty?”

The traveling company consisted of four camels, but five riders. Three were knights, bequeathed the honour of smuggling the remaining Rockbell family line from further extinction. They had been labeled traitors in their home country, Amestris. Despite being but a lowly old hag and orphaned child, the Queen wanted blood for crimes they had not committed. Someone on the inside, took action and fabricated the plan to get them to safety before the Queen decreed their sentence.

“Drink, before thy self run dry.”

The knight’s clothed arm held steady in front of Pinako Rockbell. She huffed a thank you, her aggravation more towards the scorching heat than him. After taking a drink herself, she gave the rest to Winry Rockbell, who sat in her lap.

“Drink child.”

Winry took the flask in her tiny hands, touching it to her lips and tilted it back. Finishing with a gasp of air, she felt much better. But a refreshing drink of water did nothing to wash away the fact that her parents were dead and are perceived to be traitors. She knew, without a doubt, that they were most certainly not. She wanted to cry again, but recalled granny telling her to conserve her fluids. This journey had been longer than she anticipated.

Finally coming across life of some kind, the caravan ventured across a bridge stretching over an irrigation system that seemed to go for miles in opposite directions. There were people actively digging the system down below. Hearing hooves shuffle across the stone, a handful of them turned to look up.

Winry ducked her head to escape their gaze, but soon was in awe of their odd features. Each and every one of them had gold hair that varied in shades. But what really caught her attention were the array of amber gold eyes staring her way. They varied in intensity as well, but each was piercing in their own right. She couldn't look away. After staring a moment, the people began to wave an arm in greeting in unison, smiles on their faces. They were oddly friendly to strangers. The people down below disappeared over the hump of the bridge once they crossed it and made it back to land, moreso sand.

The knight's accompanying them steered their herd towards a stable like building meant for housing the camels of travelers for their later departure. Except, they weren't leaving anytime soon, Winry thought. The knight's would leave them behind to burn under the hot sun. Although, now that they were in town, the sun didn't seem that bad anymore, but it still weighed on them.

Given Granny’s and Winry's size, the knights had to help them down off of the towering camels safely. Granny didn't like a grown man touching her, but she figured it would be best not to complain. They did all this for them. She took Winry's hand since she didn't feel safe in a foreign land whatsoever.

“Stay by my side, Winry.”

Winry noded and hid behind her as they walked down the center of the shopping district. A perfect place to attract travelers for money. Everyone they passed seemed to be happy to see them or at least friendly. Some would talk to each other and watch them pass. Granny didn't like being on display like this, she squeezed Winry's hand.

It felt like ages, but they finally walked to the center of the empire and scaled the thousands of stairs it took to get to the throne room. Winry wanted to slap this King or whatever. No one would want to come here and climb a mountain of stairs just for a King.

Once they basked in the vast throne room, the knights turned to Granny.

“Ma’am, the lass need not pay the King audience. Only thee must accompany us.” The knight speaking bowed, but Granny didn't like this idea.

“I'm not leaving her alone. She comes with me.”

“Ma’am…the King wouldn't-”

He was cut off by a tall young man, sporting a blonde beard and hair pulled back in a ponytail. “If I may?”

Pinako looked over and up to glare at whoever else wanted to take Winry from her. “Who are you? I'm not leaving her.”

The man put up his hands in surrender. He didn't take being yelled at very well. “I mean no harm, ma’am. Id like to suggest taking your…..granddaughter for the time being. I have two boys of my own she could distract herself with. I'm sure your conversation with the King will be short and sweet.”

“Like hell you think im-”

“Please please. I promise no harm will come to her. The King doesn't like children in his throne room. She would just upset him. Me on the other hand, I love them. She'll be safe with me.” He gave a pause and looked Pinako in the eyes, putting his hands together in a prayer form. “I promise.”

Pinako didn't care how many times he repeated himself, she didn't like this at all. Leaving her only granddaughter with a random stranger did not sit well with her.

The knight cut in this time. “Make haste, the King doesnt take nicely to waiting.”

“Alright alright. Fine. Get off my back will ya!” Pinako grumbled, turning to Winry. She grabbed both of Winry's hands this time and squeezed. “Winry. I don't want to do this, but you're going to be spending some time with that man there. I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?”

Winry nods. “Okay, Granny.” She looked to the blonde man smiling down at her. He wasn't unnerving or creepy. He looked really sweet and nice. He held his hand out and looked from Winry to Pinako.

“I will take good care of her for you. She'll have fun with my boys, I know it. Come come.”

Winry slowly took his hand and let go of Pinako’s. Neither looking like they wanted to go anywhere. Winry watched Granny go through the big double doors and disappear. She'd be lying if she wasn't worried now.

“Oh where are my manners,” the man smiled down at her while walking her down a corridor. “My name is Von Hohenhiem. What’s-”

“Winry.”

Her sudden response gave him pause, but Hohenhiem smiled anyway. “I know this is stressful and scary, but I promise you'll be just fine. There's nothing to fear now. Through here.”

He guided her through an archway, pushing aside fabric in the way to reveal what looked to be a library with an open floor in the center.

“Boys! We have company.”

No response. He smiles nervously down at Winry. Clearing his throat he tried again.

“Edward! Alphonse!”

He was complimented by a grumble and shuffling of books falling over.

“I'm coming! I'm coming! I was just getting to a good part!”

A moment later, a boy appeared from around a bookshelf, not looking happy to be disturbed. He wore robes like his father with red trim. His hair short in the back, but long in the front, most of it covering the sides of his face. He blinked, seeming disturbed by Winry, obviously not expecting someone else. Turning to look back he sighed.

“Come on Al.”

Another boy poked his head out, hiding behind his brother. Much more shy than the first one. He also wore a robe like his brother, but with blue trim.

As they stepped closer to her, Winry got a closer look at their golden features. She could make out more detail compared to the people under the bridge. These two boys sported the most brilliant golden eyes out of all the eyes she's seen on the way in here. She couldn't help but stare.

“Winry. These are my boys. The one with the sour expression is Edward. The one hiding is Alphonse. Now, I have some work to do for the King. Play nice boys. Don't make her cry.” Hohenhiem looks from Al to Ed. “Edward.”

The boy named Edward had obviously taken offense to this.

“Wha- I haven't done anything yet!” Crossing his arms he looks at Winry, but it looks more like a glare.

“Be nice, I'll let you know when your granny is ready for you, Winry dear.”

Winry nods, watching him leave as the fabric falls back in the doorway, she turns back to Ed and Al.

Collectively, they all stare at each other. Winry couldn't help but notice Al still hiding behind his brother.

“Umm….” Winry started, but Ed cut her off.

“Sooo, Winry huh? What do you wanna do then? All we have are books and some toys. Not much though. We're just slaves after all…” Ed huffs, lowering his arms and resting them on his hips.

“Slaves?” Winry looked worried.

“Yeah, slaves.” He tilted it head at her, his golden hair falling in his face a bit. “Don't you have those where you're from?”

“But you all look the same…”

Edward cocked an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with it? Only the alchemists live well here.” He shrugged but put on a proud smile and pointed at himself with his thumb, puffing his chest out. “Soon we'll be skilled alchemists and surpass those losers!”

Al spoke up for the first time from behind Ed, pushing down on his left shoulder. “Brother-” He hissed at him. “Don't say that out loud, they might hear you….”

“Whatever, Al, it won't matter when we're out of here!” Ed absolutely beamed at his brother.

“Al…chemists?” Winry blinked, completely dumbfounded. “What in the world is that?”

Ed and Al turned their heads and looked at her in unison. Almost in sync. “You don't know what Alchemy is?” They even spoke in unison too.

Winry shook her head, her hair swishing in her face.

Ed looked at Al and Al looked at Ed. They smiled and looked back to Winry. They bursted with energy at her and grabbed both her hands, she almost ran out of the room.

“Come on!”

“We’ll show you!”

Yanking her into the room’s center, there was a carpet lain out for play. They let go of her and ran in random directions, searching through books and scrolls. Winry opted to stand on the very edge of the carpet, deciding to keep her distance. Both boys looked like they wanted to show her a new strange rock they found in the forest or something of the like.

Edward emerged first carrying a scroll and chalk sticks. Alphonse had bottles and jars of unknown substances. Winry was more curious now. If they were this interested in something like this, whatever it was, it must be cool.

Ed rolled up the carpet aggressively and chucked it aside. Holding open a scroll, he read off of it and began drawing lines on the stone floor. Winry was confused now. Was this Alchemy? Drawing on the floors in chalk?

As Ed finished, it was clear to Winry that it was a giant circle with triangles and writing she couldn't understand.

“What-?”

Edward tisked. “Not done yet.”

Winry shut her mouth.

Al gave him a few jars of….stuff and they both opened them and poured out the contents in the center.

“Now the material.”

“Ready?”

They got down to their knees and smiled at each other at opposite sides of the circle.

“Ready.”

A few moments went by, nothing. Winey was about to say something again when the chalk started to glow. She couldnt believe her eyes, her mouth fell open. What felt like wind was circling around the outer circle. Lights and sparks erupted from the center and triangles. The light was everywhere. The boys didn't seem bothered by this at all, they were smiling down at the pile of material they offered to the center and waited.

As the light show continued, the pile started moving. Winry's eyes grew wider. It started taking the shape of a….doll head.

That's when it got terrifying.

The doll head wiggled it's way out of the pile along with a body attached. As it formed the facial features, it looks like something out of a nightmare.

Winry started to whine. But the boys didn't stop until they heard her wail.

They whipped their heads around with worry plastered on their faces. Winry was slouched on the ground crying and rubbing her eyes. Trying to get rid of the sight that bore into her eyes. She heard their footsteps and felt their hands on her arms. Trying to get her to stop crying.

“Winry! Winry! It's okay!” Alphonse was pleading with her, holding her forearm and touching her shoulder. Edward didn't know what to do. He's only ever consoled a crying Al, but that's different than a girl crying. He just hovered and looked ashamed and lost.

When the boys got her to a hiccup, she finally took her head out of her hands and looked at them in front of her. The worry was very real on their faces. They bowed their heads and slumped.

“We're sorry…”

“We didn't know it would scare you…”

Winry hiccupped, but looked over Ed's shoulder to see a fully formed, not scary, doll sitting at the center of the circle. She looked back to sets of golden eyes looking at her. One of them looked like they were about to cry too. She smiled a little. They were only trying to show her something and make her happy.

She was about to ask if she could have the doll when Hohenhiem whipped the fabric at the doorway open.

“I heard crying! Edward, what did you do??”

The remorse on Ed's face was gone in a flash. He jumped up and huffed, stomping his feet.

“I didn't do nothing!”

Hohenhiem scanned the tosseled rug and the obvious circle drawn on the floor. He slouched and sighed, pinching his nose.

“Did you scare her with Alchemy?”

Ed crossed his arms and turned away, puffing out his cheek. “No….”

Al stood up and gripped his robes. “Yes…” Ed whipped around and opened his arms at Al in a ‘are you serious?’ manner. Sour for being ratted on.

Hohenhiem sighed again. “I'm sorry Winry. I didn't think these two were going to immediately give you nightmares as soon as I left them alone with you. I should've known…”

Ed huffed again. “What's that supposed to mean??”

Winry’s eyes whipped from one to another. Amazed by the life in the room. Silently getting up while the other two argued, she tentatively picked up the doll and inspected it. Al quietly tapped her shoulder and smiled when she looked over.

“You can have that if you want it. It won't fall apart. It's really a real doll.” He smiled soft and sweet. “We made it just for you.”

She didn't know what would come of her life here in Xerxes now that she was stuck here for the foreseeable future, but with these two around, she knows it'll be interesting at least.

“Thanks, Al.”

#fma #fullmetal alchemist #edward elric #winry rockbell #alphonse elric #my writings #fmab #medieval au #medieval amestria au?? #xerxes au #van hohenheim #prologue #achaemenid #xerxian #i dont know how to tag this lol #i tried okay?? #i literally wrote this in one night #i hope its decent #i think its okay but 🤷🏽‍♂️ #yes i want you know over and over that the xerxian children have GOLDEN hair and GOLDEN eyes #pinako rockbell #kings and knights #king xerxes #king of xerxes #now in just adding any random key work tags i can lol #edwin #ed/win

[luck-of-the-drawings]

VIOLATOR!! DESECRATOR!! TURN AROUND AND MEET THE HATER!!

VEEERRRY HAPPY WITH WILLIAMS LIL SCARY ARC. HORROR MOVIE BOY. LIL ZOMBIE GUY. UNDEAD AND PIIIISSED OFF LIKE CMAAAHHHNNN I HOPE HE KEEPS THAT CHAINSAW FOREVER. IF YOURE UNDEAD CAN YOU STILL GET A NICOTINE ADDICTION? I SURE HOPE SO!

#jrwi fanart #jrwi show #jrwi prime defenders #jrwi pd spoilers #william wisp #FIRST: IF YOU DONT PUT ROB ZOMBIE IN YOUR WILLIAM WISP PLAY LIST I KILL YOU. SECOND: BEHOLD MY EASTER EGGS. FIRST EASTER EGG IS THE CHAINSA #I WROTE CHAINSAW ON IT A BUNCH BC I DIDNT WANNA DRAW DETAILS. ALSO ITS FUNNY. SECOND EASTEREGG IS THE LOBOTOMY CORP HOODIE. #THIRD : HEY KIDS YOU WANNA SEE A DEAD BODY? QUOTE FROM HELLSING ABRIDGED. REMEMBER HELLSING ABRIDGED? YEAAAH YOU DO #OKay those are the easter eggs. also i hope william actually gets into smoking i think thats SO funny. also its cool as hell #like with the blue wisp fire n everything? COOOl as hell i hope he gets his leather jacket back too. REMEMBER KIDS! #smoking is COOL AS FUCK but also itll kill you so dont. if ur undead its fine though. #IN OTHER NEWS! williams 'need a hand?' bit was SO fuckin funny. like it didnt need to be that funny. I WISH I COULD ANIMATE THIS WHOLE SHOW #ITS SUCH A CLEAR CARTOON IN MY FOUL BRRRAAAAIIINNN!!!!!! SPEAKin o my foul brain i LOVE SWIRLS!! CAN U TELL??? #I LOVE DRAWIN WILLIAM WITH THE SQUARE/ROUND SPIRALS DEPENDING ON HIS MOOD. ESPECially in the black/white/grey arc #i draw him with only sharp spirals in that arc. the spirals soften once he chills out tho. YOULL SEE IN THE NEXT DRAWING I POST #guyyysss i love william so mmuuuuch i project all my middleschool gothness onto him and it makes me so happy #im sO GLAD I FIUCKIN FIGURED OUT HIS HAIR BTW. IT LOOKS SO GOOD NOW. LOOK AT ME IMPROOOVOEEE AAAAAIUURURUGHHRAAAUUGHHHHHHH

[hotluncheddie]

'but like, why do you like it so much?'

steve passes eddie the blunt; fingers, shoulders and thighs brushing or pushed flush as they're slumped on eddies floor. a black sabbath record plays softly in the background.

steve just can't seem to understand metal, or maybe he just can't understand how loud it always gets in his head when he listens to it. maybe he's just sensitive, after so many monster fights. if things are quiet, he's grateful.

eddie huffs, side eyeing steve a little as he shifts around. eddie's always moving, fidgeting, its just who he is and steve likes that. likes how reliable eddie moving around is, shifting in and out of his space. but right now he seems a little more on edge than usual. or than is usual after a couple shared blunts.

'stevie, its. its just good. it makes me feel good okay?' eddie spins his rings and puts a knuckle in his mouth. steve watched the movement. eddie has nice lips... and hands.

''i had a fucking, like, counselor of whatever once tell me that i needed things to help me focus and help me relax and help me if i ever felt overwhelmed or whatever. i only saw them like twice but they said music could do that for some people and i guess metal did it for me.' eddie shoves all this out onto steve in a slightly panicked way. which is the last thing steve wants. the last thing either of them need is more stress.

steve smiles at him, trying to show how completely none judgy he feels right now. 'okay.. so it makes you relax? all the noise. it helps?' he wants to understand. so so bad, steve just wants to understand the eddie munson he met after the upside down got closed, after life was put back together. eddie is really great and steve just, he feels good with eddie.

'yeah i like, need stuff sometime. need to move and feel a certain way to kinda scratch an itch i get in like, my bones. sometimes its a fucking ball ache, nothing helps. i can get so stressed out i wanna rip my skin off.' eddie says it with such a humourless laugh steves heart breaks a little. 'that's kinda part of why i took so long to graduate. can't focus in class if your skin is crawling, can't remember to do homework if you get home and gotta like, rock back and forth while staring at a wall for two hours just to feel like yourself again.' eddie is staring at the carpet now, eyes unfocused. steve wants to hear more, just so maybe he can help. maybe make it a little better one day. eddie deserves that.

'shit' ...okay so maybe steve is a little too high to help with words right now. but he stays pressed up next to eddie, hooks an ankle around he leg, keeps him close. hopes he keeps talking. that steve just being there is enough.

steve gets a little, tentative, smile out of eddie. his soul soars.

'you ever been to a live gig stevie?' steve shakes his head, no one ever comes to their little town and he honestly never really liked anyone enough to treck over to indi or chicago to see anything there.

'live music does it the best. just fucking letting go and feeling. all the noise and the bodies washing over you, getting inside you. its fucking magic.' eddie is smiling properly again, thank god steve thinks. he never wants to see eddie frown ever again.

'like, when you head bang, or go in a mosh pit, or just fucking sway to the music just right. it like sets all my insides right. like i'm all put together correct and it feels so good. feel like a hug maybe. like soothing or whatever, like so good over and over again. but everyone is doing it, all together. so you, you don't look like a freak you know?' oh no, he's frowning again. oh god, steve needs to fix it. eddies big cow eyes look sad again.

'mmm when i used to run laps, i'd get to a point where i was so tired it'd feel, like really good? like i could only focus on breathing in and out and everything else went quiet. is it. is it kinda like that ed's?' steve is too high for this. it feels important, and all he can come up with is this? fuck, harrington! your fumbling the ball here!

but eddie smiles at him, smiles all sweet and syrupy and his eyes are so pretty. steve is a goner. a big, too high goner for eddie musnon and his big dumb sparkly brown eyes.

'a little yeah stevie. a little something like that.' eddie is still twisting his rings and his leg is bouncing against the carpet and if he needs that to feel good steve hopes eddie never stops moving. hope he fidgets forever if it feels good, feels right.

'um, next time, next show, can i come too?' steve hadn't planned on inviting himself to a metal gig when he came over earlier, but found a lot of rational thought went out the window when he was around eddie. 'you show me what feels good yeah? wanna feel it too ed's.'

eddie looks at him with so much disbelief, steve is sure he fucked uo somehow. backtrack poised on his tongue, but eddie giggles, fucking giggles at him. steves heart melts out of his ass.

'ooh baby. i'll pop you concert cherry for sure!' eddie is cackling now, delighted it seems at the idea of steve at one of his gigs.. steve thinks eddie has a great laugh.

---

the blunt is long dead and steve is well on his way to passing out. he, he needs to get on the bed. get on the bed and try to not cuddle eddie too hard... a little is okay though.

'um steve? um thanks, by the way. for not like, thinking i'm weird or whatever, for what i said. those things i gotta do, i can't always help it? so thanks, for not thinking i'm a freak.'

steve tuggs eddie by the arm. too sleepy to talk, and not much to say anyway. tugs eddie up onto the mattress with him, up on the mattress and slings an arm over his stomach, a leg over both of eddies.

'never a freak ed's. ‘kay? never ever' steve falls asleep then and there, nestled in eddie munsons sheets, right where he belongs.

eddie can't help pressing a chased kiss to steves forehead. the big, kind, brave steve harrington asleep in his bed.

#steddie #steve x eddie #can u tell i just got back from a concert #this was not drafted like normal so i hope its okay?? i just wrote it #autistic eddie munson #kinda kinda #i dunno #hotlunch #my fic #neurodivergent eddie munson #drabbles

[hauntedpearl]

Endverse, Kind of MCD, 2.4kwords, Gen (ao3)

At the end of everything, there is still him. Cas. There is still Cas.

It's just that Dean doesn't know if it's a blessing or a curse.

His brother — Lucifer — is long gone. So is the other him. The one whose world hasn't gone to all shit yet. Who still has the chance to do the right thing.

Dean hopes he's doing it — whatever it is, because he sure as hell can't figure it out, even now.

Hopes that whatever happens, it doesn't end like this.

It hurts to move, hurts to breathe, hurts to think.

(He's doing all those things anyway. What else is new?)

"Reckless," Cas hisses from somewhere to his left. "I fucking told you it was reckless."

Dean doesn't respond, stares at up at the sky instead.

It's a good sky, all this considered. Here, at the end of everything.

Cloudless, and blue, like the world on the cusp of a warm summer. Like ice cream on a park bench. Sunglasses and sundresses.

Like his —

Like Cas' eyes. Or like they used to be.

It's a nice blue, is all.

Dean's glad to be looking at it.

"Sorry," he says, and his throat is scratched and torn, voice drenched in his own blood. He swallows, tries not to choke on it. Then, "Should've — Should've just stayed back, huh?"

Cas laughs, and it sounds like the rattling of the world. Like it hurts.

Dean's sure it does. Cas had looked like death warmed over when he'd crawled up to Dean on his hands and knees after everything, collapsing at his side.

He'd sighed, and the world went quiet, and it was selfish, but Dean was so fucking glad to have him, just then. Beside him. With him. Here, at the end of everything.

Dean doesn't know what exactly happened to Cas — if it was demons or the Croats or even Lucifer himself. Or a shitty fucking combination of the three. Cas won't tell, he knows, and Dean's not going to waste his last breaths asking.

It's the end of everything. And Dean's just glad for the company.

"Like that was ever a choice," Cas says, now, and he sounds bitter. He sounds helpless. A little smug, too. Sounds a lot like he has been for the past couple of years.

Dean blinks, drinking in the sky one last time. Rolls his neck so he's facing Cas instead.

"Fuck!" he swears, because it hurts like a motherfucker but atleast he can see Cas now. He can look at his face — human, and divine, all at once. It looks bashed in. Dean tries to not focus on that. Or the trickle of blood that carves its way down his chin. Tries to look at his eyes instead. The whites are shot with red — a burst blood vessel, if Dean would have to guess — but the irises are as blue as ever. Not the same as the sky, no, but close enough.

Dean loves them, always has. Loves looking at them.

"Of—Of course it was a choice," he says, now. "I — I didn't m—make you."

Cas smiles at him, close-mouthed, all bloody lips and regret. "Oh, you did, Dean. You always have."

And Dean knows what he means. Understands.

(He doesn't want to, though. But that's nothing new, either.)

"Th—Think you've got one last miracle in you, Cas?" he asks, and it's mostly in jest. But—

If—

Well.

Here's the thing about life— it can suck as all hell, but you'll still want to keep living it. All the time in the world, and it'll still never be enough. And Dean's here, at the end of everything, on purpose. By design. He chose this. Still — somewhere underneath all that hurt and hopelessness and the drive to just end it, he wants to live.

He's always wanted to.

He'll keep wanting to until there's nothing left of him to want with.

Cas pauses for a moment, almost like he's taking stock. Then, "No," he says. Groans as he turns onto his injured side, facing Dean. "'Fraid we ran out of those a while ago."

Just as well, Dean thinks.

Who knows what else he'd have had to endure if they did live to see another day. Atleast there's the sky, on this day.

Atleast there's Cas.

"Did he make it?" Cas asks. Coughs. Sprays blood everywhere. A drop of it lands on Dean's cheek.

Dean watches him as he wheezes, moans. Quiets a little. His eyes grow slightly unfocused.

It hurts to look at him.

Dean keeps looking anyway.

An angel who smote demons with a thought, reduced to the indignities of mortality by his calloused, human hands. Dean's done a lot of fucked up shit in his life but this — this takes the cake. When he's back on the racks in Hell this time, and for good, he'll deserve ever fucking second of it.

"Yeah," he says, shaking himself a little. "Yeah, he did. Just in time, too."

"Good," Cas breathes. Lets his eyes slip close. "That's — that's good."

There on his lashes is a tear.

Dean looks at it — a little universe on the edge of Cas' lashes. It's silver and blue, and shines in the light of the day. Dean wishes he was in it.

He thinks about the other version of him who went back in time. He wonders if he'd fix the fuckfest that this world has become. If it's even possible to fix it.

He wonders if it would matter.

Once, when things hadn't been so bad, Cas would talk to him about these things — Timelines and multiverses and the effect of the flapping of a single butterfly's wings. He bets Cas would know what would happen if the other Dean made a different choice this time around.

Bets he would know if it would matter.

Then, the tear rolls down Cas' cheek, across his nose. Falls to the ground in a bloody splash.

It's all — it's too much. It's overhwhelming.

"Cas—," he calls. Cas hums. Doesn't open his eyes. Dean wants him to open his eyes. Wants to look at the blue of them. He wants to see them smile, one last time. He wants —

"Lo—look at me, man."

"No," Cas says. There's the tinge of something horrid in his tone. Dean hates himself for being responsible for it. For being responsible for everything.

"Pl—Ple-ase, Cas," he begs.

Cas breathes. Dean watches his bruised chest swell, the slight rise in his shoulders. The way his too-long hair, matted and sweaty and bloody, flops in a lazy curve over his forehead.

Then, he opens his eyes.

Duller, now, but there, atleast.

Yes. There.

"Hey there, Cas," Dean says. Tries to smile. The skin across his bones stretches painfully.

Cas' face softens, then. Something that mirrors Dean's own smile carves itself into his bloody cheeks. There's something old, and quiet, and familiar about the shift. "Hello, Dean," he says, and Dean's heart lurches.

There you are, he thinks. There's my Cas.

After all these years. After everything.

It's still him, it's still them. At the end of it all.

Dean doesn't know if it's a blessing or a curse. He doesn't know.

He's not a big fan of deathbed confessions, but — well. Here they are. Cas is fading, he can tell, and his own thoughts are starting to scatter. They don't have long and this — this one thing.

Well. Dean's life has always been a cliche filled nightmare. Why would it be any different now?!

"C—Cas. I wanna—," he starts. Pauses when his breath sticks against the sharp edges of his broken ribs. Groans. Forces himself to keep going.

Just a moment, he prays to a God who's never listened. Give me one fucking moment.

"Dean?" Cas calls. Watches him struggle to breathe. "Dean!" He crawls closer, wiggling on his side. Presses a shaky palm to Dean's chest. Something cracks under his hands but somehow, somehow, the breath whooshes out of him.

He gasps. Then gasps again. And again.

"Th—Thought we were out of miracles," he manages between breaths.

"Wasn't one," Cas replies.

"Right. O—Okay."

But it feels like one, anyway. Every fucking thing about Cas feels like a fucking miracle.

The world is quiet, and Dean's dying under a bright blue sky, Cas' hand on his chest.

That feels like a miracle, too. And, well, isn't that something.

"Thank you," Dean says, after a moment. "For. Fo— for everything. I ne-ver do s-ay it—," and he doesn't. Dean doesn't. Even on frenzied nights that they spend trying to sate the hunger buried under their skins, or the morning-afters when the world is quiet and soft, and easy, if only for a moment. Dean never says it. He's a right fool for not saying it. "B—but. I couldn't — Not without you."

That didn't make sense, he thinks.

Cas just looks at him, his hooded eyes fending off exhaustion, fighting to stay open.

For him, Dean tries again. Says, "Every— every day. Always. I've needed you. And you've been here. Even when I — I didn't de-deserve it. Even — now. I need you, and you're here. You're always here. So— th-thank you. I just—," he trails off.

Cas is quiet.

Dean wonders if maybe he's gone. If perhaps the slight light in his eyes is not life but the echo of it. He cannot stand the thought. It keeps coming at him anyway.

Wake up, Dean pleads. Prays. Say something!

Then, Cas laughs.

And the world keeps spinning. If only for another moment.

"Fuck you, Dean Winchester," he says, and it bleeds the anger and resentment Dean's poured into him for years. "Fuck you. I do— don't. I don't accept your confession. I will not— grant you — this— this absolution."

Dean wants to think that he isn't seeking absolution. But he doesn't know anymore.

Maybe he is. Maybe he wants to be forgiven. Maybe he wants to know that it was alright to want Cas. To love him. To need him.

To be told that it was excuse enough for everything.

Dean laughs, too, then. Because what else is there to do.

His bones rattle in his chest under Cas' hand. He wonders if Cas can feel them. If he can feel the way his heart slows.

"Do what you wa-nt, ass-hole," he says. "For-Forgive me for try-ing, I guess."

"No," Cas says. Heaves himself closer, still. "I won't. It's all too late."

Yeah, okay.

That much is true. It's the truest thing of all.

It is.

It really is too damn late.

"I know," Dean says. "I'm so-sorry."

And he is. He's so fucking sorry. He wishes— Well.

What does it matter anyway.

Then— he screams.

Pain blooms in his chest, sharp and bright, and the edges of his vision turn white. He tries to move, but cannot. Tilts his head down, just so. Watches as Cas presses his palm flat against his chest and pushes once more.

Another scream tears out of his throat.

Cas uses his leverage to push himself closer, until he's flush against Dean's side. He drops unceremoniously, then, sprawling on his stomach, his body half on top of Dean's broken ribs. His chin settles on Dean's shoulder, and Dean feels his every laboured breath against his neck and collarbone.

"I hate you," Cas says. Wheezes, really. "But I—," and Dean thinks Don't. Don't say the word. " I guess— Guess I needed you, too."

Dean's relieved when Cas borrows his words. His arm's pinned between their bodies but he wiggles his fingers until he's got a fistful of Cas' shirt in his hands.

"'S'alright," he says to him. "'S'okay. I'll t-take it."

There's only Cas' messy hair in his line of sight, so he closes his eyes. Counts the dark spots on the back of his eyelids so he doesn't fall asleep.

Not yet, he begs his body. Not yet. Not yet.

"Hey, Cas?" he asks.

"Hmm?"

"Th-think they'll figure it o-ut in ti-me?"

"The other ones?"

"Yeah," Dean says. Thinks about the ease in his other self's skin that seemed to have left him forever ago. Wonders if he's sane enough to make use of it while it's still there.

"I—I don't know," Cas says. Dean hears rustling as he moves against his side. (It doesn't hurt so much, anymore. Everything's numb.) Cas pushes himself up, and Dean feels the tip of his nose against his cheek. Cas' forehead falls against his temple. Dean presses into the touch. "I hope so."

"Yeah," Dean says. "Me-me, too."

Dean thinks about what it could've been like, if they'd figured it out sooner. If they'd had the luxury to figure it out. What his future could've looked like.

A log cabin, he thinks. Some place to come home to. Hunting together, maybe. Holidays where he would cook. A guitar. Birthday sex, and pie, and holding hands under the covers. A couch. Dean would've loved a good couch. Memory foam on the bed.

Dean loses himself in this dream that seems real, and vivid, and bright. So fucking bright. Brings his lax hand up to the Cas' on his chest. Threads their fingers together.

"Sing for me," Cas asks. Curls his fingers around Dean's. Holds tight.

Dean's too far gone to sing. So he hums instead.

Cas mouths the lyrics against the skin of his neck.

Take a sad song, and make it better.

They tried, he thinks. Despite everything. They did try.

The sky is the kind of blue that means sandalled feet, and busy beaches. But Dean's not looking at it anymore.

At the end of everything, there's still him. There's still Cas.

And the sound of a song in the air.

It's not too bad, when all's said and done. It's not bad at all.

#doe's writing #destiel fic #endverse #mcd #end of all things or whatever #i watched eeaao and had the first line of this fic stuck in my head and also A Concept! #so i wrote it! #it's not going on ao3 bc I'm not convinced of its quality rn but maybe eventually #should I even tag my taglist I DON'T KNOE #I'LL LEAVE IT UP AND WE'LL SEE AFTER A NAP #okay thanks i hope you like it!. #spn fic #this one is sad! #angst

[vanellopes-mun]

Vanellope VS. Turbo: A Mini Analysis!

There are a million reasons why Turbo’s reveal in Disney’s Wreck-it Ralph is such an iconic and memorable scene. A scene that I and many others have replayed ever since 2012 and its impact has never left our minds. It solidified King Candy/Turbo as one of Disney's top villains ever created, surprising and shocking viewers with a plot twist that Disney hasn’t been able to overthrow with their other movies before they abandoned villains until King Magnifico but he sucks so. He WISHES he was as charismatic as King Candy plz-

But this analysis isn’t just about King Candy/Turbo, it’s also about Vanellope Von Schweetz. She’s the most important ingredient to making this scene work and play out the way it does and ultimately why it’s so fucking cathartic. ( More so than Ralph’s fight against Cy-Bug Turbo in my opinion) After watching how it was originally story boarded, the crew behind WiR perfected this scene with a specific detail that they changed. In the early storyboard, Vanellope causes King Candy’s vehicle to crash, causing him to glitch and transform into Turbo in front of the cameras. While I love love love the extended race between Vanellope and King Candy and sort of wished it could have been longer in the actual film, I am content that they didn’t go with the direction. In the movie, King Candy is revealed after trying to beat/kill Vanellope with his horn rod/pole thingy from his kart, she grabs it and glitches due to stress/adrenaline/her emotions, her blue glitch traveling through the cane and making contact with King Candy, finally putting down the facade he had on for 15 years and revealing him as Turbo to the characters in the film and the audience. It’s such a small detail, it only happens in a second, but it’s all it took for the start of his downfall and his eventual demise. 

And this is why it brings me catharsis every time I watch this scene. I could never put it into words before, but it’s beyond satisfying that the end of King Candy’s horrible reign starts with Vanellope and her glitch. The very same glitch that he caused trying to delete her code and remove her place from the game. The glitch that he used as an excuse to turn everyone in Sugar Rush against her. He usurped her throne and tried to ruin her life. Despite this, he still had the audacity to shout “Get off of MY track!” earlier. It brings his Roadblasters incident back up, it was his choice, trying to steal the thunder of another racing game that just got plugged in because he couldn’t stand the idea of anyone taking his place, only for Turbo Time and Roadblasters to be unplugged. All of this circling back and biting him in the ass. Vanellope was the key all along and he knew it, he feared her despite never really having a conversation with her as far as we know (Vanellope asking Turbo “What the-?! Who are you!?” leads me to believe that if they did converse in the past, it was not in his true form and he was most likely already King Candy. Plus it just goes to show how fast he hijacked Sugar Rush), but you can just tell by how desperate he was to keep her from racing, he didn’t want anyone to take his place ever again. 

So the scene continues and his famous line and breakdown goes as this: “I’m Turbo! The greatest racer ever! And I did not reprogram this world to let YOU and that halitosis riddled warthog TAKE IT AWAY FROM ME!” It’s just so ironic, unfair and hypocritical of him it makes my blood boil! And the way he’s raising his voice, jabbing his finger at her and Vanellope’s trying to shrink away from him as he yells at her face before he tries to murder her I just- So cruel, scary, wicked and disturbing! But Vanellope, this brave WARRIOR, is reminded of her glitch after Turbo calls her for what he believes is the last time. “End of the line, Glitch!” She takes a moment, everything slows down around her as she tries to control her glitch to escape Turbo. She glitches away, missing the wall and It ends up saving her life! I just cannot stress enough how beautiful that is! She used her disability, that everyone thought would simply doom her and the game, and embraced it when she needed it most. Her glitch, while it was suddenly given to her by circumstances she couldn’t control or prevent, she took control back. It’s her beautiful superpower and it’s empowering. After this scene, it’s the “end” of Turbo before he gets nom’d by a Cy-Bug. ( I want to note that he later says “I’m the most powerful VIRUS in the arcade”, part of me wants to believe he said that because clearly Vanellope bested him as the greatest racer ever but I doubt that was their intention lol)

They’re the embodiment of Selfishness vs. Selflessness. While Vanellope had everything taken away from her, she didn’t follow the same path as him. Turbo had everything taken from him, but it was his fault and he only ever thought about himself, never about the destruction he left behind. Hell, all she ever wanted was to be one of the racers, no matter how much they bullied her and ostracized her, she never ended up being evil like him even though it would be a perfect recipe to become a villain, this is also what makes her a mirror to Ralph.  (Remember in that one deleted scene where she said she wanted to break the racers’ legs but come on can you blame her!?!?! She was so real for saying that.) VANELLOPE IS MY FAVORITE CHARACTER EVER AAAA. 

Before I ramble any further, I will forever love the choices that the writers made for the climax and it just ends up being an absolutely perfect and brilliant scene and I will continue to rewatch for the millionth time. 

#I cannot properly write analyses okay my ADHD brainlimits me plz #Ijust hope this makes sense and ty for whoever reads this #WIR analysis #Wreck it Ralph Analysis #WIR #Wreck it Ralph #Turbo #King Candy #Vanellope #Vanellope Von Schweetz #putting it into words it seems obvious because its literally whats being shown but its so powerful and its driving me crazy i just have to #WRITE ABOUT IT #After a little more than a decade I will always be obsessive about this movie nothingwill change that #part of me thinks i wrote too much but also too little man this sucks #disney analysis #ramblings #rambles #i find vanllope vs turbo so interesting because they have 15 years of anger but they hardly ever talked and its just the actions alone and #reck it raph fave movie #vanellope is my hero #turbo tastic

[joyfullyacat]

Unordinarily Foolish

haha, don't hurt me, not beta'd it's another hurt no comfort - but this time no one dies! woo!! inspired by @gniteruirui 's animatic here (except then it spiraled way from that and im a little sorry-)

CW: so much self loathing, general heartbreak, pining when your heart wars with your brain, no happy ending word count: 2.7k

-

You’ve hit rock bottom it felt like.

What respect did you have for yourself any more?

There’s been a pain, irate and grating on the nerves right in your sternum lately but it was better than feeling numb.

At least, you think it is.

You go years single without affection, you had your time to date and you took time away from the pool, you got your licks from it, you thought you learned all the lessons. 

Now look at you.

Unsteadily, your hands follow the curves and grooves of the toys you clean with wipes. Under here, around there, get into that crevice. Your thoughts travel and your eyes wander to the subject of those thoughts.

Sun is cackling with giggly kids hanging off every limb, clutching about his legs and wrapped about his arms. He’s carefree and radiant, in his element, there seems not to be a care in the world with him… And maybe that was what had you ensnared. You stare at the panel in the back of his neck that his jointed neck comes out of. A distinctly inhuman appearance to his otherwise human personality.

Just maybe, this is what kept you away. You were an ordinary fool with a silly heart but your brain was logical… Cruel but logical.

You were an ordinary fool with not so ordinary lessons to learn. Like how bad of an idea it is to be in love with something - someone incapable of feeling as you do with temperamental chemicals and functionalities that dictate every part of you from head to toe. Who won’t share the experiences of life with you like an ordinary couple.

What you had was not an ordinary love.

This was no ordinary circumstance.

When did you take his exuberant nature for something more than what it was? When did his crushing hugs of friendly greeting become something that stole your breath away - more than just physically. The nicknames too, the sunshines, dewdrops, and daydreams, every single one of them stuck into you and hid between your ribs, becoming new butterflies that’d flutter in your stomach haplessly against your will.

You have enough respect for him to not dump this onto him or his lunar counterpart, Moon. 

Oh yes, a counterpart. A double decker to your psyche, really.

To be in love with not one but two distinct personalities and individuals that weren’t even human. Who likely could not grasp the concept of love, it wasn’t something to be easily defined like happiness or sadness, it was muddled by every emotion and bolstered by them similarly.

This wasn’t including the fact that you were fleeting in their very, potentially eternal, lives.

This also wasn’t including the fact that at any moment, they could be torn in twain and scrapped against your wants to make new animatronics, better ones, new personalities. They wouldn’t remember you - even if they kept the same face.

It already happened once, after Sun and Moon were split into their own bodies.

Most of their memories outside of the employee data bank were lost. You were pretty much another face in the crowd to them.

You were happy to befriend them again - at the time that’s what they were. Friends.

Because denial is not just a river in Egypt and you were hopelessly flowing down it back then, oh it’s just a crush. Merely infatuation! They were new, exciting, interesting and human enough, but you know now.

No, you were utterly endeared and helpless to how your heart speeds up around them.

Well over a year later.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Moon approaching, slinking in the designated shadowy corners you created with well placed large plushies and decorative hangings.

The animatronic lifts a finger, pointing to what you’re doing unknowingly. “I think that toy is clean enough…” He speaks in his typical low grumble, a permanent growl to his voice that rattles in his chest. Something that comforted you in your lowest moments when he’d hug you on days of stress.

His words bring you back to the moment, looking from him then over to the poor anthropomorphic turtle figurine with colored bandana in your hand.

You had stripped some of the color from it. Faded smears of green staining the little white rag.

“Ah, yeah. It is…” You cough, setting the toy in with the others and picking up a sort of tubby looking unicorn toy with cheap white hair and a set of sparkles on its hind quarter.

“You’ve been spacy lately.”

Ah, he was always the more confrontational of the two. A trait you admired and feared. You thought you were confrontational once upon a time, then you met him. Then you learned how ham-fisted your emotions could be to you. Making you clam up entirely.

Both were observant, eventually a comment would be made on your actions lately, your behaviors. Whatever vitals they’ve been able to read from you.

Sun was far more subtle, much more rounded. Acting sort of as a bumper to your feelings with careful gestures and honeyed words that served to entrap you further, much to his unknowing warmth. Leaving you little sticky notes of well wishes that you’d save and so on.

You felt… Dirty, really. Dirty about it all. Guilty may be more apt. Taking their gifts of friendliness for your own selfish needs. To fuel fantasies of your own design.

A low timbre breaks you from your thoughts, “Starbright?”

Right. He’s still there.

Moon brought himself closer, even in that moment of thought. Just an arm’s length away, well for him anyway. You’d have to lean forward.

“Things have been… Going on is all, Moon. Sorry about that, I’ll pay for a replacement toy.” The funny turtle guys are usually stocked in toy aisles, it’d be easy to pick one up the next time you’re going out for the easiest and cheapest premade meals because you haven’t been able to bring yourself to cook properly otherwise lately.

He doesn’t look convinced, looking past you to something just over your head, probably over to Sun if you had any guess. The two had a way of communicating without necessarily having to be in speaking range of one another.

Likely some technological link.

You watch as he nods once... Twice... Three times before suddenly decisions are made.

“...Come on, you’re taking your break early.” Is all he says before you’re swept up with an arm around your shoulders, promptly escorted to a doorway tucked behind one of the play structures with quite the tall baby gate that keeps wandering tikes from going into it.

Also known as the way to their personal room that wasn’t through that funny hook system that made them “float” to the balcony.

You squirm and writhe against his hold, trying to dig your heels into the carpeted area with all your might but he practically picks you up in your struggles. “Ho-Hold on now, I didn’t agree to this-!”

“Don’t care…” He draws out in a mocking sing-song. “Attendant’s orders, we care for children, this includes adults who act like children.”

Was this how you lost what shred of dignity you had left? Cornered to fess up by your coworker and crush? Could you dumb it down, play it off as if it were nothing? Make up a story about something in your personal life going on?

…Better question, did you want to?

You wouldn’t get a better opportunity than this, even if you wanted to do it with both of them present at the same time. No having to repeat yourself and becoming mortified twice over if there is only one band-aid to rip off, after all.

Though that question was answered for you with the reveal of Sun awaiting you up the stairs, hands on his hips and leaning forward, primed up and ready to chastise you for your mistreatment of yourself.

Quickly, you try to find a way out of this impromptu grilling on your being, “I know you did not leave the kids unsupervised.” You point out stiffly, gesturing to the balcony that the solar-themed animatronic likely scaled.

“You are correct, I set up their nap hour! We are both capable of it… Remember I was doing it alone for a time!” He’s chirpy in his jest but distinctly, you feel that smile he can’t necessarily help is more sarcastic in this moment.

“So that leaves you alone with us - ideally uninterrupted with plenty of time to figure out what is wrong with you.” Moon elaborates simply, resting his arms over your head and leaning his weight into you comfortably.

A common way he liked to make fun of his height over you. 

“Mhm! So tell us, sweet sunshine, what’s been eating at you?” Sun holds his hands out to you in invitation, flexing his fingers once.

You don’t hesitate to take his hands into your own two, staring right into his daylight-bright eyes that’d somehow shine more when he was excited you noticed. You hoped they’d stay like that. You don’t ever want to see that light dimmed.

With a deep breath, you decide to take the leap.

“...What would your guy’s responses be if I said I liked you?”

The way Moon goes tense, able to tell even with the rigid, barely padded metal resting against you, has you worried.

Sun twitches in your hold, almost as if wanting to pull away, “Well… It depends in what way you mean by that!”

The animatronic above you doesn’t reply.

Well, here goes nothing for you. Maybe you can ask to be transferred to a different area. Does Bonnie Bowl need any sort of supervision? Children are in every corner of this place, surely someone good with kids would be good in just about any place…

How hard do you play this up… Pouring your heart out would dramatically be for the best you figure.

A little tap to your temple makes you jolt and you can only wish to be able to look up and glare at the attendant who radiates smugness over your head.

“I want to experience life with you in the long run. I want to feel your hands in my hair and I want to be able to care for you similarly, maybe I’d pick up sewing or something to make sure your things fit, I don’t know. I wish to teach you what lies beyond these walls I want you - both… You and…” You point to Moon above you. “I don’t think I could ever choose and risk separation or division. I know there are differences and I'm sorry to dump this all out, it's unwanted and complicating and-” At some point, you start to cry, your frantic blinking had only kept the tears at bay for so long and you couldn’t bow your head to hide the waterworks.

So you stared at Sun who looked to you with, you think, eyes that weren’t remotely as bright as they once were. You caused that.

The seeming pity you felt from them, the awkward, stoney silence.

Your love for them was theirs to keep, your heart would never be your own you think, not for some time. They could do as they wished with it, it was the only blessing you could give them. For them to know they were loved in that way, even if for them, it does nothing.

“...I’m sorry.” You apologize once more after a few moments of the deafening quiet that you couldn’t bear any longer. “I didn’t want to say anything, I was trying to keep it under wraps hoping it’d go away but it didn’t even when I took that - stupid long break using up all my vacation and sick days in one go-”

“Wait, that was why you left for a month?” Moon speaks up, interrupting you swiftly and flicking your temple soon after. “You’re unbelievable. See Sun, this is what I mean. They’re a big child.” 

He’s so huffy about it you can see the silent tapping of his slippered foot against the ground… Actually no, you hear it now. The little bell jingles and his pants sound with the movement.

“Mmm, yes. Yes they are.” Sun confirms with a nod.

You huff out something that you think was supposed to be laughter, “You two are not making me feel any better about this.”

“Because you’ve chewed yourself out thoroughly I think! We had to get you smiling somehow.” Sun releases one of your hands to poke at your nose. “I say we did good.”

Your now free hand automatically went to rubbing at your eyes to forcefully clear the remaining wetness away, using your knuckles and making your vision scramble momentarily. 

“This… Doesn’t give me your answer though.” “Because I’m afraid we don’t have one, Starlet. You’ve dreams and ambitions - but we don’t share them… Especially when it sounds like this like is more of a love, isn’t it?”

Moon has you pinned and you can only let your shoulders lower slowly, forcing down that sticky feeling in your throat, the ball that wants to come out in a sob. 

They didn’t need to be so gentle about it. You wanted them to… Mock you. Do something that’d make you view them at least - something less than pleasant?

Something less than the sweet as peach nature of Sun and the toying black cat nature that Moon possessed, endearing even if sometimes you wanted to take him by the waist and shake him from side to side.

“...I’m sorry.” Is all you say, again.

You’re not sure what this means for you and your friendship with them. Do they view you as silly? Hopeless? A daydreamer with too lofty ideas? Potentially, too idealistic? Romanticizing what wasn’t there? 

“There is no need for an apology, really…” Sun soothes, hushing you when you went to apologize a third time with a press of his finger to your upper lip. “I think you knew our answer to begin with, somewhere in you, didn’t you?”

You did. The one your brain would tell you whenever your thoughts went down the rabbit hole of what-ifs and possibilities. 

After all, they were made with a purpose in mind. Artificial in design, they had their directive, and you were not part of it. They were in love with their duty, their charges, adoring the children they take care of and see grow with each visit. They were caretakers first and individuals second.

You want to find an end to this conversation, a solid conclusion, something of change, meaningful and positive and before you can broach the topic of how this should go on, the sound of a child crying echoes through the dying conversation, silencing it fully.

A part of you laughs deep down at the comical way the two attendants shoot-up like dogs catching the movement of a squirrel. Another part of you cries and laments at their presence leaving yours, the bubble thoroughly popped as arms drop from your head.

Not a moment of goodbye, not a note of continuing this later. They go over to the balcony.

“Oh ho ho! It seems we are up and shining already! Rise and shine from the clouds, who’s ready for snacks?! I say we have little apple bunnies!” Sun cries out with all his joyousness coming out in full force as he launches himself over the railing with a dive.

Moon only spares you a glance, giving you a simple two-finger salute with minimal words before his departure. “Go home.”

The moment he’s over that rail is the moment you feel the urge to keel over and curl up. You feel you screwed that over spectacularly.

This was never so painful, this was never such an agony. Never did feeling love make you feel like such a wretch of an individual. Like an utter bother.

But you go home as instructed. A quick text sent to your coworkers and a brief, phony explanation to the security guard stationed at the front how you sicked up in the bathrooms and wasn’t sure if it was contagious, and you’re out of there.

The rest of the day that’d serve as your shift, you spend staring blankly into nothingness while going about chores you neglected previously due to your shifts and emotional turmoil that left you unwilling to move once you got home.

Anything for normalcy.

Anything to not feel useless. 

Even got to cleaning your bedroom, sorting your messes and putting things where they belonged - briefly you feel accomplished.

You go into your prettily made bed at an hour that’d surely give you a sneer and a direct order to nap by Moon. The sun is kissing the horizon and the inky blackness of the sky, making way for heartwarming pinks that bleed to oranges and purples.

All you feel is cold however.

A meager handful of hours later and you wake up just a bit before your alarm is supposed to go off, to your phone chiming with a text.

…A text.

From your manager.

No email, nothing professional, no official slip of paper.

Hey, sorry to hear you aren’t feeling well, I hope it was just something bad you ate and not an actual issue since you don’t have sick days but, hey, you’ve been moved stations. Effective immediately and all that.

The arcade with DJ Music Man is pretty cool, you’ll do just fine there, you may have to learn some basic engineering and wire tampering though.

Your throat hurts from the wail that falls from you. Miserable and broken.

Desperately, your brain tugs at you. It tugs at your heart. That these tears aren’t needed, you’ve cried, this was for the best. You could heal from this, it wasn’t a break up. You still have your job, there are brightsides to this, that change was good.

All your heart could pound about was that you weren’t wanted anymore.

Unloveable. 

Foolish.

#joyfic #i wrote this while having the urge to cry and i finally got to cry by the finishing point #haha oops!! all tears!!! #sun x reader #moon x reader #sun x y/n #moon x y/n #daycare attendant x y/n #daycare attendant x reader #fnaf sb #fnafsb x reader #sundrop x reader #moondrop x reader #sundrop x y/n #moondrop x y/n #i wrote this on and off throughout the day so sorry if anything is screwy #also hello to late night/early riser readers!! i hope ur okay and that this gives u some cathartic release or something #no need for a late night reblog oops its 4am for me at time of posting #FHAU

[anawrites3]

Ana seeing as Ive just finished reading the Captive Prince trilogy, Im iching for a sladick AU with a similar premise.

In the books they mention that slaves/pets are trained to take cock well before they lose their virginity.

If Dick was given to Slade (not a Prince, maybe a member of nobility? A slave trainer? Whatever role you like)...

Ahh that's great! I havent read it yet because I just cant put my hands on it, it's so expensive here :( and I dont think any libraries nearby have it haha

But I'm always all in for some slave/master dynamics 😏💕 so have a little story, I hope it's what you were thinking about!

Dick breathed out slowly in an attempt to calm down even just slightly, and his breath shook almost as badly as his hands did when he was shading his robe. Lord Slade Wilson, the man that was his master now, was sitting comfortably on the settee in front of him, watching Dick like a predator watches its prey. He was sprawled on the soft cushions with his legs spread comfortably, his pants untied and lowered just enough to uncover his erected cock.

The thin material of Dick's robe pooled around his feet and for a moment he allowed himself to just stand there, letting Slade's hungry gaze wander around his body. It's not like it was covering much in the first place but without it Dick suddenly felt much more vulnerable.

"Do you know what to do, boy?" Slade drawled in a low voice.

With those few words, he interrupted the silence that wasn't exactly comforting but still made the whole situation feel more surreal. As if it was just a distant dream or, more precisely, a nightmare. A few words, that's all it took Slade to made everything feel so much more real for Dick.

Dick shouldn't even be there. He was a prince, even after being betrayed and sold, even after being bought by men that "trained" pleasure slaves and... and after being forced to go through said training himself- he still was a prince of Gotham, the first son of king Bruce Wayne. He shouldn't be there, gifted to lord Wilson to be his slave and do everything the man wanted.

Still, what left his mouth was, "Yes, master."

Slade kept watching him. Dick looked back, his heart pounding against his ribcage, painfully aware of every inch of his naked body, still bruised from the last time his trainers punished him.

The man patted wordlessly at his thighs and Dick stepped closer, close enough to put his hands on Slade's shoulders and take a seat on his lap. Slade's hands seemed to be scorching hot when they found their place on Dick's waist and for a moment Dick was sure that they would leave marks on his skin with barely any touch. But no - it was just Dick who was cold, still not used to this realm's weather.

Slade traced his hipbone with his thumb.

"They told me no one touched you before." He mused. "Is that true?"

Dick lowered his gaze. He wet his lips with his tongue, hating how nervous he still got while talking about it after everything he already went through.

"Yes, master. I'm fully yours."

Slade's fingers dug into his skin as Dick got pulled closer to the man, so close that their chests were pressed together, Slade's cock rubbing against his stomach.

"But you still know what to do." Slade said, more a statement than a question.

Dick swallowed, "I've been trained well."

The settee whispered when Slade leaned back against it more comfortably. He continued watching Dick's every reaction, his every move. It wasn't how Dick imagined a lover would ever look at him.

But that was before. Now he was just a pleasure slave, property of his master.

"Show me then, little bird." Slade purred out, the corner of his lips twitching up in a smirk. "Let's see how good you are."

#aandd that's it! #you've been cockblocked youre welcome 🥰 #okay no but to be more serious i really liked writing it! #thank you for the lovely prompt love!! #also its no beta wrote in one sitting so i hope its not too bad #my writing #sladick #my reply #slave Dick #Barks #cieldelarose #spicy #Ana's spicy writing #yea im making it a tag

[mafufuu]

i compare childrens literature to pd pcs

!! spoiler for like, so many episodes of prime defenders god knows how many, but def s2 finale, if youre not done scroll away at rapid speeds !!

Childhood

    Peter Pan is a tale of growing up. Dakota Cole is someone who might have done that too fast. The story follows the Darling children, primarily Wendy and their adventures into Neverland. Wendy seemingly wants to stay a child forever, though when faced with Peter Pan, the embodiment of childishness, her mind is changed. Dakota can be considered childish, with his intellect, black and white sense of good and evil, and extremely kind heart. Yet, it might be that, as opposed to Wendy, he is clinging to whatever remains of his childhood.

     As a kid, Dakota was quite reckless, skipping school, climbing roofs, and whatnot. He’s like Peter Pan, filled with childish whimsy and a lack of care. He befriends a girl, who joins him in the shenanigans. It’s like the early bond of Wendy and Peter. But soon, the consequences of this immaturity become evident. Like how Wendy comes to see Neverland’s flaws. One day, when climbing a roof, the girl falls. Dakota tries to pull her back up, but soon his grip gives out and he goes down too. 

    Couple this with the death of his parents, and likely other factors, Dakota has gone through the kind of stuff that would kill off a childhood. But this is “his” fault, he wasn’t able to save her. Dakota wakes up after the fall, and he runs from wherever he was. He holds this notion that a hero, like the ones he sees in the media, saves everyone. A lofty childish ideal, but one worth admiring. Dakota has grown from where he started, he no longer sees good and evil as two separate entities, holding the idea that the ‘villains’ deserve to be saved too, and that they can be met with forgiveness as opposed to punishment. 

    Peter & Wendy says in the end childishness must be let go of. I reckon that it’s okay to have maturity, yet still hold the whimsy and joy of a child.

Belonging

     Pinocchio is a story that has been warped over time. In this case, I will base this off of the basic sanitized version most people know. It focuses on a wooden boy, the titular Pinocchio, who desires to become a boy of flesh and bone. Vyncent is someone who (as of the beginning) felt a lack of belonging in the world of Prime, and wanted to be accepted. What lies in both is a desire to change.

    Pinocchio starts out as a wooden boy crafted in a woodcarver’s shop, a fit for what he is made of, surrounded by similar things. Vyncent starts out in the world of Fauna, where magic is something everyone has, where people can just have pointy ears and no one questions it, where adventuring parties slaying dragons are usual, where he is normal. Where they belong and are accepted.

     Though, they both leave those places of comfort, intentionally or not. Pinocchio ventures out to become a ‘real’ boy, and Vyncent falls through a portal. Soon after, he somehow ends up in jail, then gets recruited to join the Prime Defenders. He does not know the customs of Prime, but he goes with how things are, while using some of his knowledge from Fauna, to attempt to fit in. The heroes are beloved by many, they belong.

     Vyncent embarks on his journey with William and Dakota, forging friends and foes, and maybe, a home, along the way. He finds a place where he can belong. Vyncent goes to visit Fauna, and he is beckoned to stay, in the place where he is from. Yet, with how he would be separated from the Prime Defenders, and how The Greats’ power remains in his sword, he chooses to leave. The Blue Fairy fulfills her promise of acceptance to Pinocchio.

    Interpretations say Pinocchio holds the message of ‘disobedience is bad and being good will be rewarded’ which in some scenarios isn’t untrue. But, to me (and Guillermo Del Toro), it is an anecdote saying if you stay true to yourself, you can be loved, you were always what you wanted to be, realizing it or not.

Curiosity

    Alice in Wonderland is about a girl falling into a strange and foreign world. William Wisp is a boy that got thrown into a hectic journey nonconsensually. For Alice, it is Wonderland she journeys into, for William it is the side effects of dying and getting revived.

     It begins with being out in nature, seeing something strange, and deciding to follow it, then falling, be it being out on the river bank, seeing a white rabbit running late diving into its rabbit hole, or going on a late night hike in the woods, and spotting a will-o-wisp, and chasing it off a cliff. Then, Alice is in Wonderland, and William is falling with strange sights surrounding him. He looks around, seeing bright colorful lights, floating islands, be they holding fountains, a field of greenery with a mother and child walking together, a man on a throne of paperwork, you name it, all things to write home about.

   Both William and Alice leave their places of wonder, though they do return. (Admittedly I’m not sure how well the events of the sequel lines up with William’s character development.) William’s adventures outside of the spirit world do not halt, however I am not focusing on those. When the base burns down, Mallard Conway whisks William away to show him his domain, being an endless graveyard housing everyone he cares for, and himself. Wonderland is certainly described to be a weird place, meaning it is also likely not devoid of horrors.

    Both of the two are out of knowledge, attempting to solve the mysteries of these strange places they wound up in. They both can be mean at times, though are generally decent people, and they want a way out.

    William’s journey through the spirit world and as the Wisperer continues. Ranging from forcing Dakota to fight a smoke samurai, then being forced to eat the soul of aforementioned samurai, to dying again, to learning he is decaying and bloodless after punching a wall and seeing strange imagery, a lot of things, and not necessarily good ones. Like how Alice continues traversing Wonderland.

    Eventually, he dies a third time. He is faced with his final challenge, his trial. He stays with his old ways and runs, and runs, though eventually faces the fight head on, with all the growth he's gone through. The battle is simply happening when Clarence retrieves William to give the latter a second chance at being alive, though more in between alive and dead, as would Alice’s sister wake her up from the dream, and she leaves Wonderland.

    There isn’t really a clear moral to this one, though it may have various themes and interpretations. This is but a tale made up to amuse youth. Though Wonderland may be fun, it has its downsides and things can go south, but the only constant is change, so things will be okay.

Home

    The Wizard of Oz explores the narrative of Dorothy, a girl who lives in Kansas who’s life is turned upside down in a cyclone, Ashe Winters is someone who was just living in suburban New Haven, who’s life was turned upside down by the metaphorical cyclone that is the Prime Defenders (and eventually becomes one himself). 

   Dorothy soon becomes part of  a group, making a quartet, one with three others who doubt their possession of  certain characteristics.  A tinman who treats all life with the greatest of care. A scarecrow who doubts his wit and overanalyzes. A lion, one who houses bravery but chooses to run, until told otherwise. Though Dakota, Vyncent, and William might not be the best embodiment of their trait I assigned among the group, they all have it for certain. Then there’s Ashe, who desires the comfort of family, in these scenarios, not necessarily blood relation, more companionship, familiarity, and support.

    After many trials and tribulations, the Prime Defenders make it where they need to be, fighting Overlord. They won, however their victory came with a sacrifice, Ashe gave himself up to the Trickster so they’d win. Despite how little time they spent together, Vycnent, Dakota, and William are determined to get their friend back. They fight, and they fight, and they fight, until they’ve won.

    All Dorothy desired was to go home, and Ashe wanted connection. These two things are quite similar, Dorothy was not seeking a building, but her aunt and uncle, and home is people, the kind you can connect with. That is what the Prime Defenders are to Ashe. He is one of them. Dorothy and Ashe return to their places of comfort, Kansas, and the Prime Defenders. After all, at the end of the day, there’s no place like home.

#i bring a kind of milgrammie analysis brain to the jrwiblr im unsure is good or bad or #know i proofread this the day after i wrote it on five hours of sleep and eight espresso beans #hope its coherent #ive had them for one or two months im not okay #saw this post talking abt how vynce isnt necesarily stupid #he can be competent but isnt given the tools to do so man im not saying hes like a five year old but man i remember when i was younger i fe #--t the same #i use he/him for ashe in this but just know i hc ashe as genderfluid #just roll with it prime defenders #jrwi pd #jrwi show #prime defenders #jrwi prime defenders #jrwi #dakota cole #jrwi dakota #dakota jrwi #vyncent sol #jrwi vyncent #vyncent jrwi #william wisp #jrwi william #william jrwi #ashe winters #jrwi ashe #jrwi ashe winters #ashe jrwi #jrwi pd spoilers #prime defenders spoilers

[skitskatdacat63]

Prince Jenson of Somerset

+ process & lore

Yayyyyy omg finally have drawn portraits of the four main characters!!!! I'll show the process of Jenson's first and then them all four together. Though it's a shame the Seb/Fernando ones are older, I think it's hopefully obvious how much I've improved since November?

Look at him in all his handsome, princely glory 🥹 It's funny, I'm always happy with the second sketch and initial lineart, and then I start coloring it and I absolutely hate it, and it takes a significant amount of time into the painting for me to like it again. And then I reach a certain point and I'm in love with it again. Ugh though I gotta say, I love drawing the curls, it's just so 18th century, but at the same point, man I always will love my original lineart for the hair the best ah. Also yes I absolutely had to give him a big ass hat with feathers, he really is that kinda guy to me. I originally drew a bicorne and then realized that those don't really exist until basically almost a century later oops, so tricorne it is!!

Okay now omg look at them all together 🥹

Haha wow I have improved a lot! Just like the Seb/Fernando ones, Mark and Jense's were meant to be put together. I think there's a lot of inherent characterization in their poses that highlight the difference between them. Mark is looking up, very wistful, looking up to greater people, greater things. Jenson's head is tilted down, almost looking at the viewer, he is very satisfied with his role and revels in it, he's here to slay!

Okay, yes, lore, characterization, sorry that it is so far down on the post!!

Jense would probably be the fan favorite if this AU was an actual book or show or something. He's the guy you randomly find while browsing Wikipedia and you're like, woah this guy is so cool??? Unlike Sebmarknando, he doesn't really have the same level of angst, he's kinda just chilling. He's a bit harder to write a lore post about, because he's basically that character who is always magically around the corner, ready to witness some crazy thing and just breeze past it.

He is less linked to Seb than people like Mark and Fernando, because he's basically just his personal minister of transportation(read: horse fucker), so he avoids a lot of the relationship complications and drama, but that isn't to say he's completely uninvolved. He really likes Seb, and loves to hang around with him and serve him, but he's not as beholden to him. He's who everyone goes to air their grievances or to get away from the others, and he's very happy with this role. He's generally willing to play any side in an argument, but does tend to have a pretty big soft spot for Seb overall(Seb also gives him cuteness aggression, and he wants to bite him. Especially when Seb puffs himself up and acts super bratty when he gets offended at not being seen as a proper ruler.)

He's royalty from other kingdom, but pledged his loyalty to Seb's kingdom when he was quite young and has served him(his father first) ever since. He started off somewhat low in the military, rose to a pretty high rank, was a renowed war hero, and then ended up retiring pretty early to tend to Seb's horses. That's an oversimplification, but yeah. He liked the military life, was very good at it, but decided he had done enough, and wanted to be involved in more direct service, albeit more laid back. As I mentioned in Mark's post, Mark *really* doesn't understand his choice to do this, because if Mark had been in Jense's position, he can't ever imagine being able to let all that go and living the quiet life.

He is the palace whore, everyone has been with him honestly. It'll be like, some man walks into his bedroom, only to see Jenson in bed with his wife, but instead of being angry, he's like "wow you couldn't even wait for me??" He's just very carefree, and happy to just slut around and tend to Seb's horses.

I think he definitely still advises Seb, and would go to battle if truly need be, but generally seems to be living in a different world than the weird psychosexual homoerotic political drama that the others seem to be living in. But as I said, it's not like he doesn't contribute to it! He loves to goad Fernando, and constantly plays devil's advocate in "debates" between Fernando and Seb. He's also obviously the one that keep "accidentally" locking them in rooms and forgetting where the key is.

Sorry if this isn't very explanatory, I hope it gives a general idea to the type of character he is???? As always, let me know if you have any questions! I kinda struggled on what to write here because I'm finishing this at almost 8 am 😭 so I'm not sure if it's great or not. But basically you need to know: horse fucker who is generally breezy and carefree but also can be a bit of a menace to society every once in a while.

#YAYAAAAAAA PRETTY HAPPY WITH THIS ONE!!!! #lmfao tho not 100% sure about the lore notes because i wrote this at like 8 am #hope its understandable 😭 and that you love jense as much I do #hes probably the funniest character in the AU #and like if it wasn't centered on seb/nando he would be the favorite #hes just often there as my kinda reaction character #tho both he and Mark are reaction characters but on opposite sides of the scale and they play off each other #jenson walks into a room where sebnando are psychosexually glaring at each other from across the room #and hes like hmmm how can i make this worse #and mark is the type to walk into the room. see whats going on. and briskly walk away #so jense absolutely loves to tease him w this kinda thing and just make any situation 100x worse(aka funnier) #well funnier for him probably not the other people involved #but its okay bcs they love him. hes jense!!! who wouldn't love him!! hes our favorite guy!! our jense!!! #I just love to imagine he gets all the sides of the gossip and is like hmm yes yes interesting #but doesnt use it for scheming or evil but rather just to tease and be annoying and make everyone blush :) #okay well anyways wow im not really discussing the art itslef sorry!!!@ #I think he looks so handsome pretty in this 🥺 #hes pretty difficult to draw but i think it came together when i gave him freckles tbh #i hope he gives off carefree but seductive but laidback prince 🙏🙏 #f1 #formula 1 #jenson button #catie.art. #boy king au #*not sure about his title officially yet. i mean hes from somerset but yeah idk its okay

[puhpandas]

Veering Off Course

(2,305 words)

Gregory and his family get a call that Vanessa, whos in a different state for college, has gotten hurt. Gregory calls Evan, and Evan is able to use the things he's learned about himself since meeting Gregory to help his friend with his emotions regarding the situation.

Its early in the morning on a Saturday when Evan gets the call. It woke him up, so all he does is blink groggily and swipe at the screen blindly while propped up on his elbow until his thumb hits 'answer' on his phone. "Hello?"

"Evan." It's Gregory, and the serious tone to just that single word clears up Evan's brain as fast as lightning. He scrambles to prop himself into sitting up and rubs at his eyes with one hand.

"Gregory?" Evan asks, looking at the little icon he set for Gregory's contact of a picture of Evan and him at an amusement park. "Is everything okay?"

It takes a second for Gregory to respond, and it causes the anxiety that had steadily began to bubble inside of him to surge. "Gregory?"

"Sorry." Gregory finally answers. "I-- Uh... can you..." His friend struggles for words, and Evan tries to be as patient as possible as it becomes clearer every second something is wrong. "Can you come over? Like right now?"

Evan flounders for words for a second, but manages to force his mouth to say, "Of course."

"Okay." Gregory replies, and a surge of worry shoots through his chest when Gregory sounds like he might cry. He takes a breath on the other end, then, "Please hurry."

After that, Evan only lingers enough to respond with a short confirmation and goodbye before hanging up the phone. It takes him record time to shoot out of bed, sling on some shoes, and get down the street a few houses to Gregory's own.

His mind had played multiple awful scenarios of what terrible thing could have happened the entire time, but his worry does not ebb when he makes it to the porch and knocks on the door to a teary eyed Gregory.

Evan's immediately herded inside. Freddy has his phone in his hand pressed up against his ear, and he's pacing around the room. Aunt Chica and Aunt Roxy sit in the living room. Bonnie is sat in a dragged-over dining chair by Freddy and frowning.

It's dead silent in the house; even the TV and seemingly endless energy flowing through and causing bustling noise is snuffed out to nothing. Evan watches as everyone sits completely seriously and quiet, hands held in their lap or thrumming against something.

Impatience, is what Evan first thinks of. They're waiting for something. News, maybe? Freddy is on the phone. It's so silent you could hear a pin drop. Or somebody else's phone vibrate.

Evan's dread and anxiety only get worse when Gregory shuts the door behind him and tugs on him a bit. Evan follows without struggle, thousands of words and questions on his tongue when Gregory leads him to one of the unoccupied seats in the living room; a loveseat.

He sits down with him, and Gregory's face is scrunched up in barely restrained worry. Evan watches his friend, who's been an anchor for himself for so long, tremble and hunch in on himself. "Gregory?"

Gregory's eyes dart to him, and Evan leans down, hunching forward with his elbows rested on his thighs like theyre their own personal bubble. Evan's own brows furrow, and he feels the familiar thickness in his throat just at watching his friend be upset.

Evan grabs at his hand, squeezing it tight and lacing their fingers together. "I'm really worried, Gregory... please tell me whats wrong." Evan pleads. "Please?"

Gregory nods unsurely after a moment, and Evan watches him swallow thickly before turning to him fully. "Dad got a call from the University of Oregon today."

Evan's brows raise, but he nods to keep going. The University of Oregon is the college Gregory's sister, Vanessa, had left home to go attend. Evan hasnt gotten the chance to meet her, yet. She's already been gone two years strong, with a seemingly bright future. Evan's heard Gregory and his family talk about her enough to know her talents.

Gregory's breath hitches, and Evan wraps his other hand around Gregory's, the one he already has ahold of. He sandwiches it in-between his own and hopes it's enough comfort.

"Somebody called us and told us Vanessa got into a car crash today. On campus."

It's like a bucket of ice water is poured on Evan's head. His feet go cold, and his eyes widen to saucers. Fear shoots like an arrow through his stomach. When he stops reeling from the news, he watches Gregory begin to shake and lose the carefully gathered composure he'd put up since Evan arrived.

"They said..." Gregory's brows are furrowed so much it looks like it hurts. Theres a clench in his jaw and a wetness to his eyes Evan isnt used to. "They said she's already been taken to the hospital and is in surgery." He frowns, and theres a twist in his lip that Evan is so familiar with. "They... a-all we can do is wait. They told us they'd let us know any updates."

The house is thrown back into such jarring silence after Gregory stops talking that Evan's ears start ringing. Which makes it clear as day when Gregory's breath turns harsh beside him.

Evan tears his eyes away from the floor and ignores the twisting feeling in his chest to look at his friend. He has his face buried in the hand that isnt held by Evan and is shaking in a way where you can tell theyre trying so hard to keep it together. Gregory's angled away from him, but Evan can see the panic on his face even from where he can see.

Evan's breath hitches, and the thickness in his throat begins to turn into burning as he scootches closer to Gregory on the couch and sets a hand on his shoulder. He tugs a bit until Gregory gets the message and let's him wrap his arms around his middle and hold him close.

Gregory makes some sort of horrible, upsetting hitching noise that causes the dam to break for Evan, before he sort of flops against him and brings up his own arms to clutch at his T-Shirt. Gregory's head thumps against his shoulder, and it's one of the only times Evan really becomes aware of the height he has on his friend.

"Its okay..." Evan says into Gregory's shoulder, because it's all he knows to do in the moment. He glances around and sees that Gregory's family has shifted to the dining room, leaving them alone. Evan finally feels the tears slip from his eyes as he presses closer, hugging him like his life depends on it. "Its okay, Gregory. It'll be okay."

"It's--" Gregory says, and Evan can hear how much his voice shakes with barely contained tears. "Its not. I can't-- We can't even go see her. We can't go and wait for her to wake up, or anything... we just have to--" He cuts himself off, and Evan feels Gregory shake harshly against him.

"We just have to sit here." Gregory says, voice thick. "I dont know what to do, Evan. I don't know what to do."

And its only that sentence that causes Evan to grapple at what to do, if his friend can't. And all he can think about is how himself would react if it were Gregory getting hurt.

All he'd be able to do is cry, he realizes. He wouldnt be able to do anything. Just wait and be scared.

But that's what Gregory is getting at, isnt he? He can't do anything. That's the thing. Evan has known Gregory long enough to get him. To know, him. Evan knows that Gregory doesnt sit around and cry like Evan does. He prefers to get up and do something about whatevers wrong.

Hes a problem solver instead of waiting around. A fighter instead of a crier. No wonder hes so bent out of shape about this. To have a loved one in danger, and when you're so used to getting up and making a plan to fix a problem and are forced to sit in standby...

Evan eases them down against the cushion of the couch, not once untangling themselves from eachother. Gregory shakes, but he does not cry. "So what would you do if you could?"

The hair from Gregory's bangs brushes against Gregory's neck as he moves his head. "I'd... I don't know. I'd at least try to get to her." Gregory says, voice unbelievably quiet. "At least get to her. Then figure it out from there. Just so I'm not waiting on phone calls."

Evan nods against him, his chin scrunching up Gregory's hair. His tears have long since stopped falling, but he knows he has dry tracks on his cheeks. "You have a plan."

Gregory makes some sort of noise that would sound like a snort in any other circumstances. "I would if I could." Gregory replies, squeezing his arms a bit tighter. "But I cant" He sighs, shuddering and heavy. "I just have to wait."

Evan hums. "You're worried, and you're stressed." He makes the same noise Gregory just did. "I know how you feel... I really do. Maybe not your exact situation, but... I get what it's like to feel helpless." He says. "You know what I would do?"

Gregory hums this time, questionative. Evan rubs circles into his back. "I'd sit there and wait, and wish for it to different. And when it wouldnt be, I'd cry."

Gregorys head shifts against that crook between Evan's chin and chest, almost like hes trying to look him in the eye but the hug prevents him from being able.

"All I ever did was cry." Evan says when Gregory doesnt respond. "Its the only thing that I could do to cope."

"...So..." Gregory asks, and his voice is thick again. "You mean..."

"You're stressed." Evan answers. "You're stressed and you're worried. So... why dont you let it out?"

Evan, out of anyone, knows how valuable emotions can be. He didnt, once upon a time. When everyone would just tell him how annoying it is. How useless it is. How he's asking for it. How he should have toughened up by now. When instead of comfort, he'd receive ridicule and prodding.

That's changed. Ever since a certain someone entered his life. He doesn't think of his emotions, himself so little anymore. So worthless. So maybe that's why Gregory perks up ever so slightly in understanding.

And that's all it takes.

Gregory's trembling turns into shoulder shaking sobs like the snap of a finger. He cries, open and unadulterated, and Evan just hugs him close and rubs his back, offering reassurances like Gregory has done for him so many times.

His own eyes burn when his best friends sobs are heard so openly and he can feel every shudder of his body. Evan's chin scrunches, and the tears fall right along with Gregory as Evan hugs him close, tucking his face into his hair.

"Im--" Gregory cries. "I-Im just so worried about her."

"I know." Evan responds, his own voice breaking as he pets Gregory's hair. His shirt is damp with tears but he doesnt care. "Itll be okay. It'll all be okay."

They stay like that for a while, and Evan can tell Gregory needs it. He needs it. The worry he felt that morning doesnt ever really leave, and it stays ever-present as Evan watches his friend fall apart. They stay stuck together like magnets, eventually only shoulder to shoulder with linked hands on the loveseat, and none of Gregory's family try to peel them apart when they eventually wander back into the living room.

They stay in a state of constant agonizing limbo all day. At 8:00pm, Freddy calls it a night. Gregory protests immediately, but Aunt Roxy calms him down almost seamlessly and convinces him to go to bed.

Of course, Evan follows him. He cant imagine a world where he doesnt. The air mattress stays deflated in Gregory's closet as it has been most of the time nowadays. All Evan has to do is kick his shoes off since he left home in his pajamas anyway and they're wrapped around eachother, tucked in Gregory's bed under his comforter in the dark.

Gregory is silent all throughout the night, even though Evan knows he's awake. Evan just hopes that... he did the right thing. Something knows is that suppressing how you feel isnt good. It never works. No matter how much you want it to.

Gregory taught him that. He just wants to return the favor. Not because he owes Gregory, no. Gregory has long since hammered it into Evan's thick skull that he has nothing to pay him back for. That his kindness is not a deed to Evan, but rather that Evan himself deserves to be treated kindly.

Gregory does, too. Evan knows this with all his heart. Gregory is his best friend and has done more for him than anyone else ever has.

Evan... all Evan did was change. Change for the better. And hopefully he helped the most important person in his life with the things he learned. The things that person taught him.

He hugs Gregory's middle a little tighter, not daring to break the silence. Gregory needs time, but doesn't want to be alone. Evan understands. He does. He just hopes to convey what he truly feels through the one action.

Thank you. I'm here for you. I'll always be here. You're my best friend. I'm so glad you trust me. I trust you as well. So much.

Gregory himself wraps his arms tighter around Evan in turn, and Evan feels like the single movement lso has a deeper meaning he cant read.

They dont speak. They just lay in silence until eventually they fall asleep, stuck together like two puzzle pieces.

ao3 link

#this oneshot is mostly just to focus more on gregorys character and how i imagine him (not headcanon #his actual canon character) to handle problems. #ive always seen gregory as instead of letting fear/emotions take over #he pushes past to get a task done/fix whatevers wrong. so i wanted to translate that into the flashlight duo universe with the emotional/pr #especially because of how important emotions are to evans growth and how gregory is the reason for that growth #and i also just wanted to finally write a bit of evan helping gregory since ive written so much vice versa. #i needed something for gregory to be super worried over and well. this universe is already family centric. poor vanessa. #its a normal ass world okay theres not much i can do #vanessa is okay btw. #the next day theyre supposed to get news about surgery and recovery and plan to go on a road trip to oregon to see her while she recovers #(i actually already wrote some of it but cut it out because i didnt like where it was going. #just veered (ha) too far away from the core of the fic) #so you can imagine that happening. #anyways hope you enjoyed! still need a better idea to showcase evan helping gregory but i think this is okay for now. #i have some other plans for this duo (as always) having to do with love languages so im excited about that. #lets see how long itll take me to actually write it lol #pandas writes #my fics #flashlight duo #flashlight duo oneshots #gregory #evan #the fazbears #oneshot #kinda feel like this is cringe #but whatever im cringe and im free two cakes etc #not my favorite work ive done but whatever #its okay

[dekupalace]

isatcord got this so I'll just drop this family bonds thing here too teehee

#THIS IS NOT FINAL this is just a concept i wrote for my own timeline reference #this may or may not happen in the fic. maybe. maybe not. who knows #i mean i know but ill never tell lmao #im slowly working on this again! im sorry for the hold up ive been so out of it lately and i think i needed the little break #im working on things other than family bonds too so its very on and off #also im gonna be real i never got over that cold LOL its still haunts me every so often and ive been napping a lot because of it #still......dont listen to my excuses ill get there #thank you again for your patience and love and FAN ART AND FAN WRITING???? I LOOK AT THAT SHIT EVERY DAY YALL ITS SO COOL #i hope the wait will be worth it for everyone...but i guess we will see #okay back i go to the realm of google docs #busy.🐝

[mychlapci]

Going on fraction play.

Big bad Decepticon Deadlock having been caught by none other then Ratchet during the war, arms tied behind his back, a spreder bar on his legs and Deadlock onlining to see said medic and why was he so warm- oh, both panels are open, and Ratchet is looking at him like he's the medics next meal and God damn if it didn't turn on Deadlock

Cue to the nastiest sex ever, Ratchet showing that Decepticon that the medic was in charge.

Which may or may not lead for that big bad Deadlock to be Bred up and sparked 🫡

ooooh. deadlock gets knocked out on the battlefield and when he next wakes up his injuries have been patched up, and it seems the battle has passed... but when he tries to get up he finds that his hands are bound by powerful chains and his legs are forced spread open. his panicked tugging at his restraints lures a familiar face into the room... ratchet doesn't hesitate to touch him even as deadlock snarls and snaps his teeth at him, confident he's tied him up tight enough- it's that confidence that really turns deadlock on. ratchet nudges deadlock's interfacing panels open, maybe he degrades him a little when he notices deadlock's engine revving, mentions how much of an eager and obedient little decepticon he is, all wet and horny for an autobot... if only megatron knew...

obviously ratchet fucks him until deadlock not only stops spitting profanities at him, but starts begging for autobot spike to fill him up... (who said "autobots inferior"? that guy was wrong)

#yeah okay maybe i had ratchlock on my mind when i wrote that and was kind of hoping someone was gonna bring it up #so sue me #valveplug #dubcon #but its fine theyre both kinky like that #faction play