#OUGH

[mothgutz236]

Happy (belated) Valentines Day @midnight-mourning !!

Surprise! I was your secret Valentine! Sorry for the lateness, I am terribly good at procrastination but here it is at last! Your writing is always a delight to read so I hope this one-shot gives a similar feeling! Enjoy!

Word Count: 2,744

Working in the Superstar Daycare definitely has its perks. Learning all types of gossip from the kiddos, from divorces to which little kid had a crush on who; this job was full of, mostly positive, emotional rollercoasters. Another perk is working with both Daycare Attendants, which definitely got you a few odd looks and a couple light-hearted, teasing words from co-workers. Both Sun and Moon were just.. so nice to be around. Sure, their appearance and inhuman mannerisms took a bit of getting used to but being there for six months can make you pretty damn used to these twos’, in your own words, “cute quirks.�� 

The day started out like normal, kids dragging you every which way to play their games if Sun was preoccupied, coloring, “eating” the pretend food the kids happily served you, and other things that make you almost feel like a kid again by proxy. It started soon after naptime, Moon and you had your usual conversation of him complaining about the new hires for daycare security and you complaining about a few irritating coworkers of your own. Sun had just gathered most of the kids, with you leaning casually on the front of the security desk at Sun’s insistence that he’s “more than capable of wrangling a few children.” 

A tiny hand gently tugs at your pant leg, your eyes drifting down from Sun to see a kid with a bright purple Bonnie hoodie, you were 90% sure that her name is Casey. Casey speaks, her voice a bit shy, “Um.. Mx. Star? Could.. Could you play Save the Princess with us?” 

You smile a bit at the nickname the kids had collectively decided to give you to match Sun and Moon, before nodding your head, “Sure, lemme guess; You’re in need of a princess to be in peril?”

Little Casey shakes her head, “No, we already have a princess; we just need a knight.”

You raise a brow slightly; normally the kids asked you to be the damsel in distress, now someone else is in fictional peril. You simply hum, quietly wondering who the princess is, “Oh, Alright. Who’s playing the princess this time?”

Casey grins like the cat who got the canary, “Mr. Sun.”

You let out a small snort, quickly stifling your small fit of giggles with the palm of your hand. It wasn’t the idea of Sun wearing the little plastic tiara that the princess had to wear, according to the kids, even if that is a hilarious visual. No, you’re giggling because you know damn well Sun’s going to turn the drama up to eleven. Being a former theatre bot, Sun loved to perform, so this was the perfect opportunity for him to stretch his acting legs and play the perfect damsel in the most distress. 

Casey took two of your fingers in her little hand and guided you to where the scene was laid out. A former cardboard box turned faux tower set piece, fake leaves hot glued to its colored brick work. That little tower was a mini project for the kiddos a few weeks back and now they’re near constantly asking to play Save the Princess, which you and Sun happily oblige to. 

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from giggling like a maniac when you finally spotted Sun. Sun wasn’t just wearing the little tiara, no, the kids went the whole nine yards; a frilly pink tutu, crayon lipstick, and from the looks of it, as many bracelets as the kids could find were decorating both of Sun’s wrists with his golden bells poking out from the miniature hoard of beads and colored plastic. 

Sun’s eyes turn from the group of kids to you, blank optics meeting your eyes before he makes a sound like clearing his throat, “Friend! Hello! U- Uh.. I heard you’re going to be my knight in shining denim?”

You snort, glancing down to your baggy jeans for a moment before meeting Sun’s optics once again, tone light and ever so slightly teasing, “Indeed I am, and I must say, You make one pretty damsel here Sunny~” After you said that, you swore his cooling system kick up a notch, already going from embarrassment you’d assumed. You don’t get a response from Sun or the chance to dwell on Sun’s quickening cooling system when a small foam sword and an even smaller, round plastic shield are both shoved into your arms, kids giggling all around you. 

A couple smaller pairs of hands give you an encouraging shove towards the tower as Sun settles behind it, only his crayon marked face being able to poke out from the little tower window which makes you swallow down another giggle. A kid wearing a Monty hoodie with the hood up, Gavin you were pretty sure was his name, mustering up the best roar he can. You mentally bust out your acting chops, letting out a dramatic gasp and taking a half step back out of sheer acted horror. You make your voice quiver as you ready your sword and shield, adding to the drama, “M- My! What a t- terrible beast! But I must be brave; For Princess Sunny!”

Little Gavin lets out another rawr, and speaks in the deepest voice he can manage, “You must go through me if you want to get to the princess! Rawr!”

Sun decides to jump in on our dialog, putting on the most dramatic falsetto you’ve heard in a while, “Oh brave knight!~ Slay this beast and save mee~” 

A “fight” ensues, turning up the dramatics to eleven in your own way. Your swings are extremely light, but your exaggerated body movements give the impression that the swing takes a grand amount of effort. A few minutes later, once the grand battle between you and the dragon concluded, you come out victorious; your head held high as you carefully step around the “corpse” of the dragon to step behind the tower of cardboard to collect your sunny princess. 

You hum softly, extending your hand to Sun, grin wide and borderline cheeky as you keep your tone overly formal, “M’lady~ May I help you up?”

Sun huffs, a touch of a laugh in his snark, “Oh, how gracious~ of you my knight.” Sun takes your hand and you help him back to his feet from the kneel. 

All of a sudden several little voices whine in complaint.

“Noo! You gotta do the princess carry!”

“Yeah! Do the princes carry!”

“You gotta give Mr. Sun the full princess experience Mx. Star!”

“Yeah! Full princess experience! Pleasee!”

A small wash of warmth runs up your neck and over your cheeks. Normally, when you were the damsel and “rescued,” Sun would carry you in the bridal style that the kids have dubbed “the princess carry” and parade you around the daycare a bit; which never failed to make you blush. Now the kids were practically begging for you to do it to Sun. 

You glance over to Sun, reaching a hand up to rub the back of your neck, voice clearly hesitant and low so the kids wouldn’t hear, “Well.. I mean.. I’m not opposed to the idea if you aren’t.” Sun meets your gaze and you're quite sure his internal cooling system is practically on full blast right now. 

Sun huffs again, steam minorly puffing out of his joints as he rolls his near non-existent pupils and changes his stance to something cross armed and brimming with sass, “I mean, you sure you can?” Sun leans close, intending to fluster surely but with the crayon make-up, it makes it hard to take him too seriously before he continues, “I mean, you’re rather.. small, sunshine~”

You let out a huff of your own, incredulous for a moment before grinning mischievously and leaning closer to Sun, “Is that a challenge Sunny~?” 

Sun’s milky white eyes widened, another small puff of steam left his joints, all sass quickly dropping as he sounded a touch panicked, “No No not a challen-!” His voice box grinds to a halt as you, with some effort, sweep him off his feet, literally. Moving all of those heavy-ass storage boxes from your old job meant you had put on some decent strength, so lifting up Sun only caused some minor strain that quickly faded as you held him. He was surprisingly light, being made of metal and having all of those wires and circuits, you’d thought he would be extra heavy. You guess him and Moon were made of a lighter metal alloy than the glamrocks so they could use the aerial wire without the potential risk of it snapping. Sun was warm against you, several puffs of steam leaving his joints as he froze, his blank optics gazing down at his feet.

You couldn’t help but be a bit smug, both lifting Sun and managing to fluster him back after all of the times he did it to you made your ego bump up a notch or two and a giddy feeling softly bubbled in your chest. Your voice carries this minorly smug energy as you tilt your head into Sun’s field of vision, trying to coax him to meet your eyes, “What was that about me being small~?”

Sun sputters, turning his gaze sharply away from yours as his internal cooling system continues to whirr loudly, some more steam puffing from his joints. You found it too cute that he sounds like an overheating computer right now, purely because you scooped him up into your arms. Sun grumbled something too garbled to make out in full but you were pretty sure he used the words “Dumb, hot security officer,” which only made your grin wider. You were half tempted to tease him, fluster him further, ask him to repeat himself, but there were children around so you skipped over that and went back to playful teasing.

You hummed, leaning forward slightly like you were going to set him down, “Well~ If you really don’t like the princess treatment, I can put you dow-” You choked a bit on your words as Sun threw his arms around your neck, keeping himself close to you.

Sun lets out a soft, minorly strangled noise of embarrassment, likely at his quick reaction to throw himself at you, before dramatically clearing his throat and putting the falsetto back on, “If you put me down, I will have you beheaded for mishandling your princess! Now, you must bring me back to my castle! Quickly now!” 

You let out a soft snort at Sun’s continued dramatics, but quickly obliged; straightening your posture, securing your hold on him and starting to carefully walk in the general direction of the security desk. The security desk has been the main “castle” the last few times you had been the damsel, the place where Sun put you once he was done parading you around the daycare.

Since Sun was forbidden to go behind the security desk by his protocols, you wouldn't be able to walk around to sit him down in a chair behind the desk, instead, you walked to the small wall that concealed the security desk from most of the daycare. You shifted your hold on Sun for a moment as you set him on top of the wall, your hands ending up on either side of his legs. You grinned up at him, his faceplate doused in minor shadow, allowing you to see the thin, white circles of his optics; the glowing shapes flitting between your face and the wall, Sun’s face still turned to the side, and cooling system still going at top speed. 

Sun makes a soft “tch” sound, his optics finally resting on you as he lifts his pointer finger to your forehead and lightly pushing you away, mumbling a soft “Meanie” which makes you chuckle a bit. You simply hum and step back, allowing Sun to hop down from the desk, him glancing at you before clapping his hands to gain the children’s attention for a different game, still glammed up. You take this as your cue to slip behind the desk once again, knowing that there are definitely some emails demanding your attention.

The rest of the day is relatively uneventful, a tantrum, an annoyed parent at pick up and the day is over, leaving you and Sun mostly alone, besides Moon of course. You were mid-email when the familiar jingle of bells pulled your attention up. Sun was looming over you a bit, casting his face in shadow and allowing you to see his optics for the second time today. 

Sun’s silent for a moment before adjusting his lean to be more casual as he speaks, “Sunshine? Would you be a dear and uh.. Help me clean up the crayon on my face?” 

You let out a soft huff and a small chuckle, the sounds melding into one before you spoke, already nodding your head at Sun’s ask, “Of course Sunny, go grab a chair or something and I’ll grab the wipes.”

You stand from the chair behind the security desk as you watch Sun bound over to the kiddie tables, grabbing a small chair to sit in as you reach over and pluck the disinfectant wipes you keep off your desk. You make your way over to an awaiting Sun, who was sitting in a small kiddie chair with his knees to his chest as he messed with the ribbons around one of his wrists. You reach Sun, getting in close as he pulls his hands close to his chassis to keep them out of the way before you pull out a couple wipes from the container. You slot the container between your legs to keep it close before you start carefully rubbing away at the waxy art supply on Sun’s face, carefully holding the bottom of his faceplate to keep it still. 

A comfortable silence falls over you both, the only sounds being hard are the jaunty daycare theme and Sun’s cooling system softly whirring as you clean his face, carefully removing the crayon from the various crevices in his placid smile. All of a sudden, you felt a gentle weight on your hips. You glance down and see Sun’s hands carefully resting there so casually you’d think he was doing it daily. A small wave of warmth rolls up your neck to your cheeks but you try and play it off, looking back at Sun's face to keep gently scrubbing at the stubborn crayon, trying to keep your expression neutral while your stomach is full of butterflies.

Time seems to drag on as you are overly aware of every minute movement of Sun’s hands, a small twitch of his finger, his thumb softly rubbing circles into the flesh of your hip for a moment before stopping, gentle squeezes that feel all too purposeful. Every. Little. Movement. And it was driving you up the wall to say the least. You can barely focus on wiping down Sun’s face, your own cheeks burning hot with blush from Sun’s touches. After a squeeze that seems a little too purposeful, you decide that you cannot stay quiet for any longer. 

You take a breath and make your voice as firm as you can manage, which isn’t much considering your current state of fluster, “Sun.”

Sun hums, giving your hips another soft squeeze, his voice dripping with teasing “Sunshine~”

Your voice is a flustered growl as your breathing hitches for a moment, “Sun.”

Sun tugs you ever so slightly closer by your hips, letting him rest the bottom of his faceplate pretty much on your collarbone, “Sunflower~!”

You groan again, face getting even hotter from the closeness as you grumble out a flustered complaint, “You’re insufferable..”

Sun hums once again, tone just a little smug, “Oh but you must suffer me all the same Sunflower~ That is part of your job description, no?”

You sighed, grumbling some more as you rested your forehead against Sun’s faceplate, the smallest hint of a smile quirking up the corners of your lips, “I hate you..” 

Sun presses his smile to your chin, letting out a soft chuckle, “Sure you do~” You huff, pressing a small kiss to the curve of his nose, a small smile shaping your lips. Working in the Superstar Daycare has many benefits but a few are exclusive to you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[ormymarius]

thinking about when Patrick said the appeal of Orm’s character is not his capacity for evil but instead his motivation to save his people, HOW did he get Orm more than some actual Aquaman writers

[sparkbox]

. . .

Undertale x transformers

combine your first real fandom with your current one to create a terrible, terrible au

[finnlongman]

My supervisor about the leth mo croidhe line in the Stowe Táin:

Leth often refers to one of two, e.g. lethshuil, so one side of my heart - as the heart is often thought of as divided in two.

Me:

[shiny-eyed-corvid]

going absolutely feral over this collection of items that washed up on Cornish beaches Lego Lost At Sea on twitter

[honestlydarkprincess]

STOP ADDING AI TO THINGS. ILL MAKE THE PLAYLIST WITH MY MENTAL ILLNESS LIKE THE UNIVERSE INTENDED.

[noodles-07]

god people have always been people. victorian noblewomen stubbed their toes and swore about it. medieval peasants ripped hangnails a little too hard and sucked on it to make it better. cavemen put kids on their shoulders so the kids could get their handprints up on the wall. someone in the 1760s played with their dog and someone in the 1340s dragged themself out of bed at some unholy hour of the morning to soothe a crying baby and someone in the 1550s stuck a flower behind their lovers ear. I'm gonna be sick people have always been people

[machveil]

Y/N: Simon what is that

Roommate!Simon, with a bite mark tattoo on his bicep: Thought it'd look cute :]

OUGH OUGH OH— RAAAHAHHA I’M BITING YOU BECAUSE YOU TRIGGERED MY BRAIN INTO OVERDRIV— [combusts]

Roommate!Simon Riley that has a couple days left before he can return to your shared apartment, return to you. the bite marks he came to base with have all healed and faded, his skin clear again - well, as clear as his skin can be. he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he does mourn the loss of those imprints

Roommate!Simon Riley that feels utterly silly, they’re not— it’s not like they’re supposed to be permanent. but he adores them, knowing you had physically changed him for a brief period of time. he’s not usually one to get sentimental, not as though he has much to be sentimental over. you, however, reach that part if him, makes him… god, he hates the word, but he yearns to have a part of you with him

Roommate!Simon Riley that snaps upright in his bed the morning he’s leaving, eyes bleary but heart thumping. he feels like a moron for not thinking of it sooner - a tattoo. your teeth, your bite, permanently decorating his body. it’s not as good as the real thing, but it’s pretty damn close. as soon as he comes in through the door he’s waiting for you to nip, bite, mark him

Roommate!Simon Riley that steps out of the apartment, says he’s off to get something and’ll be back soon. you figure he’s off for groceries, maybe he needs to fill his tank up at a gas station. instead, Simon’s off to the local tattoo shop - his favorite, the one that’s made his arm a piece of art. a fresh bite from this morning prominently sitting just beneath his shoulder, he marches into the shop. when he comes home? to say you’re floored would be an understatement - still slick with tattoo jelly, Simon bites back a smile when you stare at the new addition to his tattoo sleeve

[potato-lord-but-not]

Finished s1 of arcane and had the unshakable nauseating urge to draw the podcast men

[egs-zs8-1]

[phantasper]

four foot tall mareep but its just kakashi and the dawgs 😔

comms

[driftingballoons]

Bad and naughty electric ghosts don’t get to use the mower

[machveil]

TOJI!!

cw: johnny and pronebone (a con to noncon breeding blurb)

johnny and pronebone (an ongoing desire) and him just humping and rutting into you, scruff nuzzling on the cut of your jaw, and you hiccup, dizzy, not even knowing if this is pleasure licking along with the tingles of over sensitivity when johnny tenses, body locking, and you moan, waiting for him to pull out.

he knows it’s not a safe day for you; he’s seen you drink your last pill three days ago, and heard you bemoan that you forgot to request for a refill. he knows it’s dangerous. he—

he should know.

but johnny isn’t pulling away; rutting hips fucking deeper, nudging more insistently. the curve of his cut cock is hitting your cervix again, bruising it with purpose.

“johnny—” you gasp out, weakened arms tensing as you try to pull up and dismount him from your back, but he stays heavy, pressed so close and fucking so deep. “johnny, no—”

your voice picks up, hysteria coating your words. johnny is still quiet. he still pretends to not hear you. the beginnings of a sob build in the back of your throat, and you shake, mind pulsing at how hard you are trying to jolt away from him. this is—

johnny’s never been this way; he’s never been too mean, too terrifying, too insistent. why now? why today of all days? johnny, why?

he groans, a rumbling sound that is ripped from the cavern of his chest, and bullies his cock further in. then, a bathing; a baptism, of sorts.

“m’sorry, bonnie,” johnny croaks out, letting out a shaky sigh like he knows that he is tainting you; like he knows that he has just upended the trust that you placed in his palm, so fragile and vulnerable because you know that he knows better. “m’sorry, m’sorr— s’just too good. can’t not cum; can’t stop; can’t pull out.”

his words are bleeding into each other, jumbled and serrated, and painful.

“yer pussy’s too good. s’just too good,” he repeats like maybe if he just says it enough, you’ll believe in him too. like maybe, then, it’ll mean something kind.

“yer too good f’r me, hen. too nice f’r someone like me.”

he kisses your jaw, then the back of your neck, and down to the blades of your shoulders. an act of penance. an apology for his sin. for your ruin—

he ruts into you once more. you hiccup.

oh, you realize, dread washing over you in a scalding chill. he isn’t done.

johnny’s apologies continue; soft kisses fluttering about your sweaty skin like migrating butterflies, and how mean he is to do so. he knows how much you adore his teasing kisses; he knows how much you find it endearing when the big man that he is presses the tenderest of kisses onto your skin like he has found a treasure, you, and he doesn’t know how to love without reverence.

how dare he make you feel a lick of pleasure amidst this? how dare he make your heart flutter after his sacrilege?

god, johnny. how could you?

[bastadr]

Fathers in an awful situations

[valictini]

I’ve already said it, I’ll say it again, Mal du Pays is such a visceral and clever word to describe Siffrin’s Sadness. When I first saw it in game it genuinely made me pause like. Yes, it translates to homesickness. But it has the literal word for country in it. “Country sickness”. For a guy whose core problem is that his childhood, his culture, his country is missing. One could argue it’s a twisted pun. I’m obsessed with it.