#haven't thought about him in a hot minute but he's one of my most important autobot ocs tbh

[belovecore]

Throwing my hat in the ring for an OC if you are accepting them 👀 I love a self-sacrificing character (like a paladin archetype), I also really like characters who are hiding a lot of insecurity. I also like physically strong chars! Guys or ladies either's good

oh boy, oh boy-

i don't know if this is cheating but this guy is fair game-

this is Rocket, more well known as Rocket Pop Prime (no he didn't want to go by Popimus or Rockimus, but a lot of his comrades call him 'Poppy' sometimes)

here's some stuff i wrote for his bio:

rocket is a 'prime' for good reason, he is dedicated to the autobot cause and sacrificed so much for the greater good as needed. this is not without unfortunate loss, rocket has lost not only so many comrades over the years but also a very close sparkmate and chance of sparklings

to be so high up on the ladder requires so much, and as rocket is still able to keep up, he struggles and without constant alert behavior or anxiety to fuel him, he feels he will collapse and not be able to get back up.

rocket holds himself to high standards to never break down, cause if he does, his whole team fails. he fails the autobots, he fails his cause. this sort of thinking is damaging to his psyche and in turn has degraded his health in both ways.

rocket does not completely evade emotions but only sorrow, not admitting it completely for weakness but knowing that crumbling down to that state takes time to build back up. he cannot rest or take a break, that is too much of a risk for him and his team.

but he fails to realize that constantly putting too much pressure will eventually cause a collapse from stress, maybe some day he'll realize he can show his vulnerable side to his team and be accepted, knowing he doesn't have to always be strong for everyone all the time. he deserves a break and to finally stop holding everything together and let others help.

to sorta tldr;

my boy, Rocket- [ my answer to being more calm around Optimus if you will :') ]

hard working guy who has lost so much, and his answer is 'i will make sure no one else will ever have to feel the way i did, cause i know how it feels' versus the approach of 'i have been hurt and i want other to hurt and feel exactly how i did'

dude didn't ask to be a prime, if anything that gives him more anxiety, but he's quite good at hiding that sort of thing and all of his team see him as a pillar of perfection despite him having a lot of trauma and issues expressing himself

he's sweet and would put himself on the line for others, he has don that a countless amount of times

it would just do him some good to get some therapy and take a nap and like, maybe a break i suppose- he's afraid to do so since he feels everything is his fault if something goes wrong

i'm rambling but i hope that helps sum him up, unless you want me to list off random little moments i've written about him

he's holding a lot in, i remember one of my autobot ocs who isn't the best at getting her work done- rocket did his usual schtick of trying to calmly compromise, but she got quite snippy with him-

with all of that building up, he ended up just crumbling in front of her and sobbing his optics out and she freaked out- she didn't mean to literally make her leader, her prime, of all people to be sobbing in front of her because she gave him a slightly hard time

she felt bad after that but that was one of the first times i think rocket ever showed anything outside of his usual hero and leader role

he showed he was a normal mech who has his own problems and imperfections despite how much he tried to hold them in

[barleyo]

If ur in twd fandom I would loveee a Daryl dixon age gap fic!! Just him being disgusting over taking her first time? Just a major power imbalance between them. Dont do this if ur uncomfy ofc!! Stay safe bookie <33

Men Who Are Older.

Daryl Dixon X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: cried happy tears at this request, i LOVE daryl, he's so yummy. dirty old men foreverrrrr!!! i haven't seen all of twd and it's been a while since i've watched it, so this could be super ooc for all i know!! sorry it's short, i wanted to get all my ideas down quickly :3

Tags: LARGE age gap (18-19 and late 40-ish), power imbalance, coercion, p in v, loss of virginity, allusion to anal, creepy old man behavior (ugh i luv it)

Wordcount: 1.2k

You found yourself often visiting Daryl in his tent later in the night when you couldn't sleep. He tried to act like it annoyed him, like your presence was a nuisance to him, but it wasn't. You weren't the most irritating person he had to deal with day-to-day. You were polite enough for your age, you didn't mess around and snoop through his shit. You didn't judge him.

Most importantly, though, you were attractive. There wasn't much hot, young tail to chase around the camp. He liked to think you were his reward for living through hell every day. Nothing like eye candy at the end of the night to ease a hardened man's stress.

It was like most nights when you entered his tent, not bothering to announce yourself. Daryl looked up from the pocket knife he had been mindlessly flicking to eye you down. 

"Shouldn't you be in bed by now?" 

"Yeah, right," you said, taking a casual seat on his bedroll. "What're you doing?"

He clicked his tongue at you on his bed, but sighed and ignored it. "Nothing. Too damn late to do anythin' important."

"Want to chit-chat, then?" You rested your hands on your knees, hoping he would soothe your boredom.

"Do I wanna 'chit-chat'?" Daryl flicked his knife closed and tucked it in his back pocket. "If you wanna chat, why don't you go do it with someone else? You don't have friends your age?" 

"I used to." He didn't say anything, just flattened his mouth at your rebuttal. "We're friends though, aren't we?"

Crossing his arms, he let out a hum. "Whatever you want, kid. Sure. We're real pals."

You spoke about whatever came to your mind for the next however-many minutes with him. Mostly just you babbling on, but it didn't bother him. You could run off at your mouth all you wanted, gave him all the excuse to stare you down and look a little too closely at places he knew he shouldn't.

Eventually, you got on the topic of things you missed about life before. Things you wished you got to experience, things you were slowly starting to forget about.

"I didn't even get to properly lose my virginity before this shit took over," you complained, now laying on Daryl's bed like it was your own. "It really bites, man." 

His eyes widened a bit, arms falling to his legs from their crossed position. 

"Wait, what'd y'say?" 

"Huh? Oh, I didn't get to have sex with anyone before the outbreak," you repeated, not caring to turn to face him while you spoke. "Sometimes, I wonder if I'll die before I get any." 

So many things rushed through Daryl's head at that moment. A virgin? You? It wasn't exactly surprising, you weren't old enough for it to be a shocking thing to hear, but the thought really intrigued him. Made him wonder.

It gave him an idea, and lord knows dirty, old men have even dirtier ideas stewing in their minds.

"That bother you?" 

You finally turned your head over to look at him, eyes looking conflicted.

"I guess, a little. There are bigger things to worry about, but I feel like I'm missing out," you said while trying your best to sound nonchalant. "It's not much of a priority, under the circumstances, you know."

Oh, how wrong you were. It very much was a priority, an urgent one at that. 

"Never know. Could happen, if y'really wanted. Don't rule it out completely," he advised, wiping his face with the back of his palm. "Maybe some younger man might find his way here. Could be an opportunity." 

"Nah, I couldn't go for that. I don't wanna be inexperienced and have to deal with an equally inexperienced guy too. That'd be like hell," you joked.

"Sounds like you want an older man, then."

He called on every guardian angel he had in that moment, praying for you to take the bait. Just one chance, damn it, he wasn't asking for much.

"Yeah, guess so." You made eye contact with him for a brief second, before flitting your eyes around in embarrassment. "Listen, it's getting late, I should go." You pushed yourself up, ready to head back to your family.

Daryl stood from his seat and grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer to him.

"I don't mind," he said, dancing around the answer to the question you didn't yet ask. "I know my fair share."

"Those don't sound like sounds a virgin'd make," he teased. He loved how you sounded. Straight from a porno, just shameless cries and squeals. "You sure you ain't did this before?"

He watched the back of your head shake 'no' while his hand guided along the arch in your spine. Took you a while to learn to keep your head down and ass up, but damn it if you didn't put the knowledge to work quickly.

"Am I supposed to be dizzy?" you asked, voice muffled by the blankets under you.

Daryl chuckled softly, slamming your hips back on him. "Yeah, if the guy's doin' it right. Feel good?"

Your hands clenched the fabric you were laying on, digging into it roughly.

"I think? I—I dunno, 's just so much."

Being the man he was, Daryl took that as a challenge. He flipped you over on your back, cock still rocking into you. He sped up, letting his movements get sharper. 

"C'mon," he muttered gruffly, trying to urge you to place your legs on his shoulders, "you gonna be this much of a problem for the next guy?"

You gave your weak legs a kick, wrapping them around his neck so the shaking wouldn't roll them off his shoulders. 

"No, no," you whined, groping your tits to keep your hands busy, "don't want another guy. He won't be as good as you, Dar." 

How the hell could a few little words get him ramped up even more? He knew you probably didn't mean it, horny girls said whatever their pussies wanted them to say, but the way he fucked you made you believe your own words.

"Yeah? I ruined ya for other guys already?" 

The stark difference between his now softer tone and rougher thrusts confused your brain in the best ways possible. You couldn't focus on just one aspect of him: Daryl was everywhere. In your brain, in your heart, in the very blood flowing through your veins— and, of course, inside of you. 

It was too much, all of it. 

Your walls clamped tightly over him, sucking him in like a vacuum. The clenching of your walls over his dick sent him over the edge, barely leaving him enough time to pull out. He bit the back of his hand, stifling a moan while he jerked himself the rest of the way off, coating your tired pussy with his cum. 

"You didn't cum inside, did you?" You sat up quickly, scooting back a bit. 

Daryl let out a huff. "I'm not an amateur, I know how to pull out."

"Just checking," you mumbled, lying back down on his bedroll, head nuzzling into the pillow.

You felt his dick push up against your ass, prodding between your cheeks.

"I could show you a way that'll make sure no idiot douchebags get ya knocked up," he offered, head desperately tapping against your asshole, "if you want."

A soft sigh came from your chest as you pushed your ass back on him.

"You're an eager teacher, y'know."

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

part 2 to ethan x camgirl reader where he orders another one on one and then they decide to meet up 🙊

I've been hesitating whether or not to make a part 2 for 'pretty boy'...here it is!!

Warnings: smut, masturbating, dirty talk,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

A few weeks later, after a difficult exam, Ethan decided to reward himself by buying another private session with his favorite camgirl. He had been forced to re-watching your regular videos lately, having missed most of your lives due to exams coming up. Now, his cock was half-hard, heavy and aching to be touched, and he could feel a slight twitch as he allowed his thoughts to wander to seeing you live — and having you all to himself — in less than ten minutes. 

The black screen turned on and Ethan jumped when you said his name.

‘’Hi! Ethan, right?’’ It was rare you remembered customers, but Ethan’s sweet face and doe eyes were etched in your memory. Along with the big cock he was hiding in his pants.

Ethan nodded, surprised you remembered him. ‘’Yes.’’ 

‘’Where have you been? I haven't seen your name pop up in my recent lives…’’ you asked with a slight pout.

‘’Yeah…sorry. I’ve been busy with school. College is though.’’ 

‘’Me too, honestly. Balancing weekly live sessions with college has been quite challenging,’’ you admitted, forgetting for a short moment that you were talking with a paying customer and not a friend. 

‘’Can’t you take a small break? School is important.’’ Ethan didn’t want to sound like a parent, he was just concerned about your well-being. It was sweet that he cared. 

You sighed. ‘’I wish. Unfortunately, I can't afford that luxury. Those lives are what pays my bills.’’ 

As the conversation continued, you reminded yourself to keep track of time. After Ethan, three more people purchased private sessions.

‘’Enough about me. What do you want tonight, Ethan?’’ You gave him a flirty smile, your chest bouncing as you readjust your bra to show off more cleavage. It was royal blue with cut-outs that showed a lot of skin under the breasts. All that was covered was a thin lace over the nipples and over the swell of the breasts. 

Ethan felt himself twitch at the sight, so fucking hard. He’d love you in sweats and a sports bra, but seeing you like this had him so hard he was convinced his pants were going to burst. He didn’t dare looking lower, embarrassed he’ll moan when he’ll see the matching panties. 

‘’Anything. I just…missed you. I’ve been jerking off to your old videos for weeks,’’ he admitted with a slight flush to his cheeks. He didn’t want to sound like he was one of those creepy guys who obsess over someone, he just really enjoyed watching you. 

You were flattered by his dedication and decided to reward him. ‘’What about I do something special for my special boy?’’ 

‘’S-special boy?’’

You hummed. 

In a way, he was your special boy. Among all of your past clients, you had come across some really hot customers, but no one ever stuck to your mind like Ethan had. He was sweet, handsome and didn’t reduce you to a material to jerk off to. He saw you as a person. 

Before him, no one had ever made you want to teleport through a screen. Most of the time, you were looking forward to the end of the private session. 

Ethan watched as you reached behind you, grabbing something. ‘’Do you like this one?’’ you asked, holding your newest dildo. ‘’I haven’t used it in a video yet, so this is an exclusive premiere.’’ 

He eyed the phallic object. It was one of those you can stick to a surface and fuck yourself on it. 

Ethan ran a hand through his hair and reached down to palm himself through his jeans to relieve the pain he began to feel with his other. He was excited to see it all inside of you, to see you fuck yourself on it and cum all over it. A rush of warmth went through his body and he held back a moan at the thought.  You had such a huge effect on him.

You set the dildo on the side. ‘’But first, let’s get you going.’’ You refolded your legs in a way that gave Ethan the perfect view of your panty-covered slit, eliciting an immediate whimper. The sheer fabric didn’t leave anything to the imagination. ‘’Are you going to let me see you? From what I remember, you’ve got a nice big cock, don’t you baby?’’ 

Clumsily, Ethan removed his polo shirt, showing off his toned biceps and chest, then he unbuttoned his jeans, shoved them to his knees, and shifted his boxers just enough to free his leaking cock as he watched you shift on your bed. You were so impatient to see it again, to watch him cum again.

‘’Mmh, so big and pretty,’’ you complimented, wishing you could wrap your fingers around it and stroke him — kiss it. 

Shaking off those thoughts, you trailed your hand down your body, and shyly, you slid your hand over your mound through the panties, teasing yourself as you held eye-contact with the camera. Ethan couldn’t hold in the groan he let out at the sight of the sheer blue fabric clinging to your lips. You were  already pretty wet, which is kind of weird since, most of the time, shows like these felt more like a chore than getting off. 

On the screen before you, Ethan’s hand was lazily gripping the base of his cock as he watched you tease yourself. He should feel shy since he was the only one fully naked, but you looked so hot in that royal blue set that he almost didn’t want you to take it off. You let out a soft moan and pressed harder into your fingers for more pressure.

You pushed your panties to the side and brought your hand to your soaking folds, coating your fingers in your own arousal. ‘’I wish it was your hand touching me,’’ you slipped, closing your eyes and imagining Ethan’s fingers on you.

His breath caught in his throat and his hand gripped his shaft just a little tighter. ‘’Me too.’’

You continued without realizing, lost in your own bubble of pleasure. ‘’I want to take your big cock all in my mouth and choke on it until you cum down my throat.’’ 

Your words had Ethan moaning, creating images in his head. He ached to tangle his fingers in your hair and drag his cock over that pretty pout of yours, smear pre-cum onto your lips before  showing his cock down your throat. You would look so pretty like that.

‘’I wan— I want you to split me open and fuck me so hard I can't remember my own name.’’

Ethan moaned again, so turned on he could cry. ‘’Yes, please.’’

The idea of him filling your pretty pussy, looking utterly fucked with those pouty lips and pretty eyes had Ethan palming his cock just a little rougher. God, he wanted nothing more than to have you — for real.

You shouldn’t be making exceptions and prolonging your private sessions, but you didn’t want to stop talking with Ethan. You wanted to keep talking to him for hours and hours. 

He sat there, in his desk chair, chest sweaty and breathing heavily as he recovered from his orgasm, thick ropes of cum still all over his chest. He should wipe himself before it dried, but his gaze was locked with yours, a soft, dazed smile on both your lips. 

You didn't look any better, sitting in your soaked sheets with your slick-covered dildo abandoned on the bed. 

After a moment of staring at each other, something you never expected to happen happened: you asked for Ethan’s number. It was a line you had promised yourself to never cross when making this account, but you didn’t want to risk not seeing him again.

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys @die4niyahhh  @sl4sh3rfuck3r @radiant-whore  @Meadzy21 @luci1fer @nomorespahgetti  @bloodyhw  @depthsofdespairr  @bellysbeach

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully  @aerangi  @hallecarey1  @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup

[emmg]

WIP whenever

because @heylittleriotact uno reverse'd me lmfao

bc grading essays is overrated, so here’s a lil’ something from the ridiculous fic I’m forcing my keyboard to suffer through. Plot? Absolutely none. Just Emmrook going on “dates” (and like also… smutty dates) suggested by the other clowns haunting the Lighthouse. This one’s SUPPOSED to end in a coffee date—because Lucanis—but I haven't written that yet lol

Honestly, it’s like… smut-crackfic with necromancy puns that should be punishable by law. I keep saying I’ll write a serious Emmrich one day, but let’s be real, that day isn’t today

Anyway, title? Don’t have one. I'm just throwing a bunch of dashes and slapping a read-more right before it gets too long so it doesn't invade anyone's dash

--------------

It’s the most absurd scene. Like, truly bonkers. 

She hovers in the doorway, conveniently camouflaged by shadows, because though the cringe levels are searing her soul, she simply cannot look away. It’s like watching a runaway cart barreling downhill, if said cart was cobbled together with blissful ignorance and top-tier ineptitude. 

There, crammed onto Harding and Neve’s favorite tiny sofa, are Lucanis and Emmrich. And they’re... talking? Sort of? It’s the most agonizing conversation she’s ever been subjected to, and that’s saying something. Lucanis is flailing his hands around, using them more than words, trying to drive home whatever point he’s failing spectacularly to make. Meanwhile, Emmrich, ever the dignified one, has one leg crossed so neatly over the other that it creates this little triangle of space that she suddenly wants to crawl into and hide from the embarrassment radiating off both of them. 

"You see," Lucanis laments, his fingers forming that universal gesture of the confused and the desperate, “we went for coffee. But she, well, threw it back. Like a shot of spirits. It was not just any brew. This was from the frost-bitten slopes of the Vimmark Mountains. A dark roast with notes of juniper and just a hint of wild honey. You don’t just drink something like that—you experience it.” He shakes his head. “Her focus was all on that new case file, instead. And fish. Fried fish."

Emmrich nods along thoughtfully. “I understand. However, if I may be so bold, Lucanis, have you perhaps thought of discussing something besides coffee? A change of topic might open new avenues.” 

"I did offer to sharpen her knives."

“Knives,” Emmrich repeats, as though weighing the term’s philosophical import. “And… Neve is known to possess a significant collection of blades?” 

“No,” says Lucanis, flat as a pancake. 

“Ah,” Emmrich replies, offering a sage nod. A wise and knowing “ah,” as if that somehow clarified things. "An unusual approach, then." 

Desperate to claw himself out of this conversational pit, Lucanis asks, “Well, what is it you and Rook… do?” He stumbles over the words, as though simply asking has exhausted his entire social skill set for the year. 

And now, it’s Emmrich’s turn to squirm. She can almost see his moustache twitching, wishing it could detach itself from his face and make a run for the hills. He looks away, frowning slightly, as though consulting some vast internal library.  

They don’t go on dates. Please. Not even the hilariously doomed sort that Lucanis somehow subjected Neve to. For one, neither of them has the time for candlelit strolls with the world about to be ripped apart by blighted elven gods strutting around like they own the place.

Usually, she just pops into his room and fucks him while he pontificates about the finer points of romance. Oh, she always lets him go on for a hot minute, but once her lips are on his throat and her hands start wandering further south, he finally gets the hint, and that highbrow nonsense about “dignified courtship” goes straight out the window.

Emmrich, after clearing his throat, finally answers, "We discuss books."

From her shadow, she snorts. He's not wrong, technically. Just the other night, she had perched in his lap while he was reading some dry treatise on Fade energy attunement and the properties of dawnstone. He’d even launched into a detailed explanation while she kissed her way down his jaw and neck, hardly deterred by the lecture. Finally, when her hand wandered beneath his shirt, Emmrich, after a brief struggle to finish his monologue, allowed the tome to tumble from his grip.

So yes, “discussing books” might be accurate, but it’s hardly the whole story. And yet here sits Emmrich, steadfast in his scholarly pride, while Lucanis looks ready to take a long walk off a very short pier. She’s not sure which of them is more tragic. 

“Hm,” says Lucanis, apparently having reached the absolute zenith of his conversational abilities. 

“Ah,” Emmrich replies, with all the enthusiasm of someone describing mildew yet also, somehow, managing to sound very polite about it. 

She saunters over to break this pathetic monotony of wall-staring both are currently engaged in.

“My dear,” Emmrich perks up, relief flooding his face as though she’s just rescued him from the depths of some social hell. His voice is full of that charming lilt he uses when he’s desperate to salvage his dignity. 

He makes a half-hearted attempt to stand, all dignified and well-bred, but she waves him off with a lazy hand, signalling him to stay seated. And stay he does. Without missing a beat, she slides into his lap, practically draping herself sideways over him, arms winding around his neck. He tenses for a moment, exhales in resignation, but eventually gives in, one hand resting at the small of her back, fingers just barely grazing the line between respectable and… well, decidedly not. 

“I hate when you do that,” Lucanis snarls from across the sofa, jabbing a finger at her. 

“Yes, it’s not very proper,” Emmrich says with solemnity, though he’s showing absolutely zero signs of protest about her whole backside pressing against him. 

With a serene, mischievous grin, she stretches her legs, casually extending them until they’re firmly invading Lucanis’ personal space. 

“Mierda,” he grumbles, swatting at her ankle with all the fervor of a cat being swiped at by an annoying feather. “Rook.” 

She just grins that beautifully infuriating grin. “Go back to your pantry, Lucanis,” she says sweetly, her tone one of pure, serene malice. “The gouda is getting lonely.” 

Lucanis stalks off, glowering as if he’d chuck a knife at her head if he had one in hand. And she’s fairly sure he would. 

She blows him a kiss. He shows her the middle finger. They’ll have coffee in the morning.

Meanwhile, Emmrich, ever the portrait of indulgent patience, looks up at her from his cozy place beneath her with a satisfied hum. “How was your day, darling?” 

“Good,” she sighs, stretching further until her legs are practically colonizing whatever’s left of Lucanis’ side of the sofa. “Yours?” 

Emmrich raises an eyebrow. Makes a contemplative sound deep in his throat. “Enlightening. Lucanis and I were just having… an intriguing discussion.” 

“Oh?” she purrs, eyes glinting. “About what, pray tell?” 

“Courtship,” he says, savoring the word as though it were some priceless artifact he’s just dusted off from an ancient shelf. 

She smirks. “I’m sure you gave him absolutely riveting advice.” 

“I certainly tried.” He heaves a great sigh, even rolls a shoulder in a semblance of a shrug. “Though, I fear our preferred methods diverge.” 

“‘Preferred methods’?” she echoes, giving his thigh a playful squeeze. “Do enlighten me.” 

Emmrich gives her a look that’s half-scholar, half-sufferer. “Well, I fancy a touch of romance, some… sentimentality, if you will. And Lucanis…” 

“And Lucanis?” she goads. 

“His idea of a grand romantic gesture involves… knives,” he finishes with a sigh of pure exasperation. 

She can’t hold back the snort that escapes. “I mean, yeah, it’s Lucanis. Did you expect anything different?” She presses a little closer, trouble dancing in her eyes. “But for what it’s worth, I do love talking about books with you… so very much.” 

Emmrich doesn’t miss a beat, a hint of sarcasm curling his lips. “So I’ve gathered.” 

“Tell me more about your books, Emmrich,” she coos, batting her eyelashes with all the enthusiasm of a third-rate actress in a chintzy Orlesian play. 

“If you’re genuinely interested, I would gladly oblige.” 

“Oh, I’m interested,” she purrs, lowering her voice to a husky whisper. “In you talking… while you bend me over your desk.”

Emmrich rolls his eyes, his facade of feigned innocence dissolving in an instant. “There it is,” he says, shaking his head, fully resigned, and yet absolutely, unflinchingly unbothered. “Right on schedule.”

She giggles, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips, laughing against his skin as his mouth curves into a smile. His hand moves down her back, rubbing a little more insistently, as if he’s grounding himself—or maybe just unable to resist the urge to keep her right there. 

And she doesn’t make it easy for him. She drags her legs back, swings one over his lap, and settles herself down, straddling him. For a moment, she just studies him, tracing her fingers through his hair, brushing little gray strands back, pressing featherlight kisses along his cheekbones. She moves to his jaw, his forehead, then teases at the edge of that absurdly high collar he insists on wearing like he’s hiding some grand secret rather than just a very biteable throat. 

He is fine, she muses, is he not? So impossibly precise, so painfully detailed. He’s all sharp angles and sleek lines, with those maddeningly long fingers that look like they could carve through a mountain if they set their mind to it, and legs that seem to go on for days. Tall, lean, graceful, and—she smirks—a touch too verbose for his own good.

There’s a tragic elegance to him, too, a sort of quiet, melancholic dignity wrapped up in age and maturity, like a bottle of rare, finely aged wine that’s only gotten more complex with the years. A shame, really, that he’s about to be thoroughly enjoyed by someone who wouldn’t know a fine vintage from a spoiled ale. 

She’ll savor him all the same, every last bit. 

When she takes his hands, winding her fingers through his, she feels him smile—a real, soft thing, so she leans down and steals it right off his mouth. She licks along the seam of his lips, teasing, before he finally gives in and parts them, letting her kiss him in earnest. 

“I like your rings,” she murmurs as she pulls back, letting their mouths part with a wet pop, a little string of saliva snapping between them. “They make you look expensive.” 

“Not too expensive, I hope,” Emmrich teases. “Otherwise, I fear I’ll meet the same fate as every artifact your merry Lords of Fortune collect. Pilfered in the night, sold to the highest bidder. One moment here, the next—poof. Gone.” 

She makes a show of sighing, voice deadly serious. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’d rig the auction, slip in a pretty penny or two, then plant an inside man to bid on you. Coin in one hand, you smuggled back to me in the other. All in one night.” 

He laughs, that rich, throaty sound she loves, and she can feel it rumbling up through his chest. “All that trouble just for me?” 

She leans in, lips brushing his ear. “Consider it my own little courtship ritual,” she whispers, nipping at his earlobe. “Better than dinner and a walk, don’t you think?” 

He chuckles, his hands slipping to her hips, holding her close as if he’s half-tempted to test just how well she could pull off that heist. “Dangerously persuasive, as usual.” 

For a while, she stays just as she is, savoring the closeness, every slow inhale filled with the scent of him, the warmth of his body against hers. She steals little kisses, grazing his jaw, breathing her laughter against his skin each time he starts to smile. She loves the quiet, the intimacy of it all, though she loves his voice just as much. Sometimes, she asks him to read aloud, not for the content, but for that smooth, careful cadence that rolls through her and makes her feel so, so good. She’ll rest her head in his lap, fingers idly tracing patterns on his hands, kissing his knuckles, his fingertips, watching his face as he reads. 

Now, there’s nothing for him to read, but she leans into him all the same, letting his quiet words fill the space. He murmurs, babbles, whispers soft nonsense as he unlaces her hair, fingers brushing through the waves, watching as they fall in gentle cascades over his lap. She exhales, content, her eyes half-closed, perfectly happy just to listen as his voice drifts around her, soothing and familiar. 

She simply listens, resting her head on his thigh, gazing up at the ceiling, fingers trailing over his hands, kissing his fingers one by one, lingering on each touch. Her teeth gently scrape along his skin, letting her tongue follow in a slow, winding path. She feels his breath hitch, hears him stumble over his words as she nibbles down each finger, tracing her tongue along the edge before she takes it into her mouth, sucking just enough to leave him squirming. She lets each finger slip from her lips with a wet pop, savoring the way his composure falters, how he tries—and fails—to keep his voice steady as she drags her mouth over the center of his palm, kissing, licking, leaving nothing untouched. 

He’s given up on this one-sided dialogue entirely, his gaze drifting from her to the room around them—the door, the table, the empty corners where nothing but dust bunnies, or perhaps a few stray Fade bunnies, lurk in silence. 

“Dear,” he murmurs, glancing down at her. “We ought to move.” He gives her a gentle nudge, even tries to rise himself, but she’s not having it. 

“Oh, but you look so good here,” she protests, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “They’re all asleep, Emmrich. Even Lucanis, that kitchen rat, is probably curled up in his pantry right now, snuggling his precious wheel of parmesan.” 

Emmrich lets out a long, put-upon sigh, like he’s reaching deep into his reserve of patience, maybe for some scolding remark, but he finds none. His shoulders drop as he finally relents, letting her kisses chip away at his restraint. She leans in, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper, detailing exactly what she wants him to do with those hands of his—where she wants those fingers, how she wants them stroking, filling, plunging, curling… 

“Well then,” he manages, and she laughs, a short, wicked little sound, straight into his mouth. 

She slips down his body, her hands already at his waist, working his trousers loose with a grin that says she knows exactly how flushed he’s become. She murmurs something obscene, barely a whisper and almost incoherent, her smirk widening as she leans in closer, taunting, “Come on, Emmrich, don’t tell me no bone was ever… poked… in that crypt of yours, right out in the open for all to see.” 

“It’s the Grand Necropolis,” he corrects, like that’ll somehow keep his dignity intact, “and we most certainly do not… poke.”

She undoes the last of the many - too many - buttons on his trousers before freeing him just enough to take him in hand. And oh, would you look at that, for all of his posturing he's already hard. All that wriggling on top of him certainly led to something, she thinks.

“Oh?” she hums, tracing her fingertips over his bare skin, savoring the way he stiffens under her touch. She leans forward, her lips brushing against his length as she murmurs, “Not even a quick tumble between the tombs? Not a single bone used for inspiration?” 

His restraint crumbles as she flicks her tongue over him, taking her time, drawing out each little shiver, each catch in his breath, making sure he’s utterly undone before she finally lets her mouth close around him, her gaze locked on his as she starts to take him deeper, her mouth warm, wet, greedy. And as she feels him sink back, his hands clenching in her hair, she knows she’s finally broken that perfect composure, and she couldn’t be more pleased. 

Then she pulls back just enough to speak. “So, tell me, is this what you meant by reanimation techniques?”

Emmrich sighs, dragging his free hand over his face as if he could somehow block out the utter cringe tumbling out of her mouth, his fingers twitching, though she doesn’t give him a moment’s peace. She lowers her head again, sucking him in, hollowing her cheeks, before releasing him yet again, his cock slipping past her lips with an obscene, wet pop. “You know," she muses, "I’d say you’re looking rather stiff.”

A sharp exhale escapes him, a half-laugh, half-moan that only encourages her further. She picks up her pace, taking him deeper, her hands braced against his hips as she moves with a steady rhythm, doing that little thing with her tongue she knows he likes, she knows that everyone likes, a talent truly, swirling all the way around, pressing it flat on the underside of his cock, only to suck her way up, breathe hot air against him, before swallowing him again. 

Between every few breaths, she pulls back just enough to taunt him, her voice syrupy with mock innocence. She can barely hold back the laughter as she watches him react, his hips bucking ever so slightly with each tease, like clockwork, so deliciously predictable. “Come on, love. I thought resurrection was your specialty?”

“Blasphemy,” he mutters above her, though there’s no real heat in his voice. 

“No, no.” She rests her cheek against his thigh, stroking him instead with a slow, deliberate touch, her palm warm and slick, her grip firm. “Think of it as… a rather intensive course in raising the dead.”

The absurdity of it hits her right as she says it—her last attempt at an erotic pun officially surpassed—and she breaks, a snort escaping as she buries her face against his leg, her shoulders shaking with laughter. 

But then she feels his hands shift, pulling her up by her arms, and she yelps, startled, before giggling as he hauls her up, settling her right back on top of him. 

“That’s quite enough of that,” Emmrich whispers. 

As he catches his breath, she wipes her mouth, grinning at him with all the smug satisfaction of someone who’s just completely dismantled a man who prides himself on his restraint. She feels his fingers on her chin as he angles her face back towards his so he can kiss her and she's not shy, she tangles her tongue with his immediately, tasting as much of him as she can reach, even tracing the edge of one canine before retreating for breath. 

“Think you could, I don’t know…” She waves a hand around aimlessly. “Necromance my pants away?” 

He smiles, curling her hair around his fingers where it frames her face. “No, dear. I’m afraid that is not in my skill set.”

[rosorbus]

my thoughts on evangelion 3.0+1.0

(as someone who only recently finished it)

as much as i loved shin eva, something about it didn't sit right with me. i've been doing a lot of reflection lately, and i think i've sort of unpacked it?

theres a lot of incoherent rambling here i think but i don't care, i'm not editing shit

spoilers for the rebuilds, don't read if you haven't seen them.

to start, i think it was a- no, not excellent, uh ... it was a satisfactory conclusion to most? i liked it, cried my eyes out obviously.

shinji's character got a great conclusion. i don't think that's a hot take by any means. seeing him actually talking to his father, having a real conversation with gendou, and in turn making that character, who'd probably felt like a walking plot device beforehand, human? that's powerful shit.

↓ please excuse my pathetic whining below

but... oh, mari. she was definitely a fun character, if not a little shallow and fanservicey. her presence never really bothered me though, not until shinji ended up with ...her??

that final scene genuinely shocked me. i guess i sort of get the idea?? like, his only other romantic options were the following:

A: Rei Ayanami

a clone of his dead mother that barely understands the concept of being human, and whose care for him clearly, at least to me, stems from her practically being his family.

B: Asuka Langley Shikinami

an angry redheaded girl who, unlike her version in the original series, is also a clone. this one's backstory is much more shrouded in mystery, but regardless, she's violent asf with shinji, tried to force feed him, etc. as far as we know, she no longer has feelings for him after the 14-year timeskip and is implied to be in a relationship with kensuke.

C: Kaworu Nagisa

(we'll get to him in a minute)

A and B... not great options. A is a weird dynamic, and they give off a sibling vibe to me anyway. B is jusy plain fucked. i've never thought asuka and shinji's relationship was remotely healthy, not with soryuu OR shikinami.

but did the writing team just forget about C? i understand it was established towards the end that kaworu didn't truly understand shinji's happiness, but ...that doesn't fit with the relationship i saw, at least.

to me, yeah, he fucked up a couple times. his existence ended up causing more pain to shinji but this was through no fault of his own.

"all he wanted was for shinji to live and be happy."

kaworu realizing that maybe it was not just a selfless act, that maybe it was also for himself, and acknowledging that, is absolutely character development. in exchange for becoming human, he acknowledged his own flaws.

and that is beautiful to me.

so why am i weirded out by shinji ending up with mari, you ask?

it's because she does not have depth as a character.

she feels so utterly flat to me, and that is not a dig at her, i'm not a mari hater by any means, but OH MY GOD. how do you just end like that? with this one person who doesn't feel like a real person?

and it's not like i'm mad about it because she's new, hell no. it's because she has no flaws. she feels like this perfect shell of a character to me. and maybe that's the point? i have no idea. i have no idea what was going through anno's head when he was cooking up this film.

again, to clarify, i still LOVED the movie. but mari becoming important is weird. kaworu was right there and they just kinda ??? tossed him aside ???

to me at least, it should've been him, or shinji's love life should've been left up to interpretation. mari didn't earn that ending.

(this is the only real criticism i have about the movie btw it was fine)

[reyolfx]

a silly little ficlet i wrote in the mountains when i was kinda drunk in my tent. finale fix-it even though i haven't even seen the finale??? lmao and won't. fuck that hoe.

(like the most minor teeny tiny turn into explicit near the end)

cas comes back, dean's kinda pissed, cas's love for dean is totally insane, here we go.

---

Becoming empty is a process.

Filling up can take just a few minutes if the calories are right.

That's a human thing.

But Castiel knows about those.

Darkness turns so suddenly to light that it feels like he might vomit.

Utter, torturous quiet becomes loud – not with screams or crashes, but with white noise. It's been so long without white noise. The sound of generators should be faint – Castiel knows they are not anywhere near this room – but to him they roar. He nearly weeps. It's so good to sense, but so harsh.

Angels have more than five senses.

The Empty, of course, allows for none.

Suddenly, all of Castiel's are back at once and he wants to crawl under his bed as much as he wants to rejoice.

His bed – yes, it's really here. Or rather, he's really here.

The bunker.

He's not really sure if his arrival made a sound, what with all the overwhelm, but it doesn't matter. He knows it's only a matter of time, and sure enough, footsteps are pounding down the hall. They are so lound.

They are so familiar.

Castiel kind of wants to claw his vessel's ears off.

But also,

His heart beats fast and everything in him warms.

It's been a long time since he was warm.

Tears spill over before the steps even reach his door, and they reach it fast. It's all so much, the anticipation a thousand fold. He has never felt this intensely, not even as a human. He supposes total deprivation will do that to you. The tears are a nuisance. He wills them to stop.

Of course, thankfully, unquestionably—

It's Dean that enters. He doesn't knock.

The door flings open and slams against the wall, and Dean is on him almost as fast as Castiel could have been on Dean, if he'd tried.

Dean. Right there, in his face. So up close and personal that Castiel has to wonder who taught who about personal space. Such a long time ago and also just a blink away.

(This life, since the rescue in Hell, has felt quite long in comparison to other 10, 100, 10 thousand year periods. Every moment has stretched on and on. Not in a negative way, as humans might describe time crawling. Long like deliberate, like important, like precious, despite the pain.)

"Tell me it's really you," Dean pleads, and it brings Castiel back into his body. Many humans mean that figuratively, but Castiel means it literally. He had begun to float away. Everything is so— he could do with a wider scope.

But no. Not with Dean here. His focus narrows, pinpoints green eyes. Green like a forest floor in early September. He knows he must be biased but he is familiar with every language on earth and thinks they all fall short to describe this green.

He says: "Hello, Dean."

And then, when Dean doesn't move, because one hand of his is over his gun and the other is extended halfway out to Castiel and he's been frozen like that for a good moment—

"I believe it's really me."

He does. He feels like himself. He doesn't know how it happened. He pats himself down like maybe it is a trick after all.

Could he be dreaming?

He hasn't dreamt since he was a human.

And those dreams, well. The quality was much different. Dean was often there, but his breath never felt so hot against Castiel's face in a dream.

He's so close.

Castiel thinks, I told him I loved him, doesn't even have the time to flinch at the thought before Dean is pushing him up against the bedroom wall.

He could resist if he wanted to. He always could have resisted.

"You stupid self-sacrificing son of a bitch, Cas," Dean yells, somehow loud and soft at the same time, like a rain storm. Wildly, he uses one hand to wipe the wet from beneath Castiel's eyelashes. Those forest floor eyes roam his face accusingly, adoringly. It's so much to take in.

How can he reconcile the complete and utter darkness, nothingness, emptiness, that existed just two minutes ago—

With everything?

Because this is everything.

Every one of his senses is alight

Dean's hot breath Dean's forearm pressed against his collarbone Dean's eyes Dean's smell Dean's soul Dean's vastness. Dean. He can taste him through his vessel's pores. Everything is Dean, all in place of nothing.

He thinks maybe he's let the moment extend too long. He breathes unnecessarily just to take Dean's scent deeper.

"Did you fucking hear me?" Dean looks bewildered. He looks hopeful and angry and faithless and beautiful.

Castiel says: "Yes. You're very loud."

"I'm very—" Dean splutters. "I'm very loud? That's what you have to say to me right now? You fucking— you fucking died, Cas. I told you not to get dead again, I told you. And you went and did it, what, because you think you've got a— some kind of unrequited crush?" Dean is fury and spit and anguish. Castiel can feel it all on his skin and all through the room. He rises to it: breaks Dean's hold on him, flips their positions. He has him up against the wall now, a hand on Dean's throat but it's featherlight. He feels his pulse. It's hammering away.

"If you must diminish my love for you to a 'crush' so you can comprehend it, so it can be dismissed, then so be it. But make no mistake, Dean. I would sooner steal your soul and carry it with me all my days before I ever let you die. Before I ever had to live without you, now that I know what it is to live with you. 'I love you' doesn't begin to describe the way you are the universe, the way it would stop if you did."

Dean's breath is shallower. He's closer. Castiel could lean in just so and brush his nose against Dean's freckles.

"How are you back," Dean breathes, and it's more a demand than a question, and it's more a caress than a demand.

"I don't know," is Castiel's honest answer. He knows he should expect holy water, a silver blade, but he doesnt, because Dean always believes him.

He'll prove it anyways — Dean has no visible injuries right now but Cas presses his palm to his chest and emits healing. Wounds or no wounds, Dean should be able to feel it. To recognize it.

Dean buckles, pants.

"Jesus, Cas. Warn a guy."

But he doesn't look displeased. Castiel smiles.

"Dean."

It's a sentence all on it's own, full and complete. It has its own taste, and it's not molecules.

Castiel thinks Dean may have gotten lost. His lips are parted, his eyes are on his but they're unfocused. His hands are on his arms, somehow. Castiel doesn't know when that happened. He should — his power feels fully charged. But he can't catalogue everything in this moment quickly enough to keep up. Senses still sluggish from Empty.

Dean finds himself. "Cas," he says. "Don't— don't ever fucking do that again."

Castiel juts his chin out. Meets Dean's eyes, those greenbrowngold autumn eyes. Defiant.

"Why not," he asks, because he needs to know, once and for all. He died for this. He was prepared to never see these eyes again. He can face that same chance now. It would be destructive, but he is a soldier. He is one thousand feet tall. Rejection is a small thing, a tolerable thing, he tells himself.

His vessel's heartbeat picks up. A lump forms in his throat and his tongue dries. Rejection might ruin him.

"Because you can have me, you—you feathered fuck. I want you to—please have me. Keep me. I love—you gotta know I love you too."

It takes a moment to sink in. And then—

Castiel feels every single thousand feet of himself. Joy and exaltation rocket through him and he didn't know. He didn't know it could feel like this. He feels uncontrollable, his power vibrating through his vessel and beyond it. The Empty does not come and he could weep again. Nothing bad happens.

Well—depending on the definition of bad. It's not the best decision in the world to fly immediately to the top of his favourite mountain in Nepal, Dean still clinging to him, but it wasn't so much a decision as it was a result. He hurriedly pulls the necessary oxygen around Dean so he can breathe at the altitude and emits enough warmth to keep him from hypothermia.

Still, the green of Dean's eyes spreads to his face and Castiel says "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

Dean laughs dazedly.

Castiel starts again. "Dean I—" and then "Please, can I—" and every one of Castiel's 247 eyes are on Dean's lips.

"God yeah Cas," Dean breathes, and that hot breath is still everything in the frigid mountain air. It's all everything because all he's had for so long is nothing and if Cas had come back to earth a thousand miles from Dean his senses woud still have been overwhelmed by Dean. He could feel Dean anywhere. See him in a storm, in a fern, in a river.

He kisses him and it's like a storm, a fern, a river.

It's nature and its harsh and soft and glowing and crushing and

Everything.

The mountain disappears. Castiel takes Dean Winchester to bed.

Between sighs and groans and pleas Dean says:

"Never again Cas"

And

"Don't you ever"

And

"I looked for you"

And he says

"I'm sorry I failed."

Castiel kisses him quiet after that one, with a hand on his face, rocking into him in a way that makes him wonder about the human drug ecstacy. Surely it has nothing on this.

He says "Shhh. Maybe you didn't."

And then, Dean's sweat under his chest and breath he doesn't need coming quick:

"I don't—Dean I don't think I will ever be strong enough to let this end."

Dean laughs and says "Well, sweetheart, it's almost over on my end," and then it is. He spills over his own fist and onto Castiel's stomach and it's warm and Castiel loves this too.

He rolls his eyes though, because "You know what I meant." He's still going, so close.

And Dean grabs his face and stares with those eyes of his and says "I told you to keep me, didn't I? 'm not used to staying dead anyways."

When all is said and done in the long life of Dean Winchester, Castiel gathers his soul, and flies.

[nyrasbloodyclover]

angels roll their eyes (billy hargrove x reader)

a/n: i wrote this two years ago????? omg. my writing style changed so much but my love for this man did not. summery vibes !

Wet hair was sticking to the nape of my neck and my tanned skin burned from the sun, while i was sitting on the edge of a swimming pool. It was summer, actually my least favorite season, but i decided to make most of it and come here with my friends. It was safe to say they ditched me to tan and that's what they've been doing for the last three hours. So i had to swim alone. As much as i enjoyed it, i couldn't help but feel miserable. They could also get a tan in the water, but no...Hot lifeguards were literally everywhere and they couldn't notice them if they were in the water, right?

Well i just proved that theory wrong, because Billy Hargrove came up to me and i swear he looked like a literal god, or that was just the part of my brain that remembered i haven't had sex in ages. I stadied my breathing and tried to act as natural as possible, not wanting to make it awkward. He was my neighbor after all, and our parents were friends. I still had to see him on Saturdays when my mom or his step mom make dinner for everyone. However that didn't stop my pussy from pulsing. Not my fault exactly.

Why the fuck was he coming towards me?

"Oh...Hi, Billy!" I tried to act friendly but it seemed that he took every kind gesture as flirting. Or was that my mind making up it's own scenarios?

Wide grin spread across his face, completely changing his features. "Hello," he squatted down to meet my eyes, "Just wanted to tell you i'll be coming over after my shift here. I won't stay long, don't worry." He smiled even wider, and i swear I felt my ovaries shift. "Your dad told me to pick up some important papers, or something like that and bring them to my father."

"Yeah, no problem. I think i'll be heading home soon, so i can find them for you." Breathe in breathe out, you whore. Stop thinking about him like that. I was certain he could read my mind right now and also thankful for summer heat. I could use it as an excuse because i'm pretty sure i'm burning inside out right now.

Also, i won't look down. I won't check out his abs, and i sure as hell am not looking at his dick. No way.

"See you then." Sun glasses covered his eyes so i couldn't see them properly but i swear he shifted his gaze all over me. Dear God. I just think of my mother and how horrified would she be if she saw my thoughts right now.

He never stopped smiling as he got up and strode away. I took a moment to appreciate his ass. Those swimming trunks did him justice. Damn. I was actually jealous. Okay i think that was enough. I jumped into water and stayed there, holding my breath until i felt like i was decent enough to get out. Without looking like a desperate whore that i am.

I put on white top that was nearly soaked and jean shorts, preparing to head home. I got on my bike and drove as quickly as i could because Billy's shift ended in thirty minutes and i wanted to take a shower before he comes. Also it was burning hot outside, which didn't help. I was touch starved and Billy appeared all wet and half naked. I really need to take care of myself when i get home.

I parked my bike and took off my top as fast as i could, shorts too. I was running in my dark green bikini over my front porch. Sorry neighbors.

When i got into shower, water was like a good old friend. I haven't even noticed how cold i actually was until hot water started pouring over me. My core was still aching to be touched.

Masturbation was my hobby and i think i was pretty skilled by now. I've done it so many times that i memorized where, how and how long to touch. I Started on my entrance which was soaking wet. I sticked one finger in it, then adding one more. With slow pace i started pumping my fingers causing my back to arch. Usually i do it slowly, but i had to be quick this time. I took the shower head and put on the highest pressure, placing it on my clit.

I had to bite back a moan. As water pressure massaged my clit, i continued to fuck myself with my fingers, faster and faster. I imagined Billy's fingers sliding in and out of me. Him slapping me. Biting. Choking.

I felt pressure building up in my lower stomach so i started rubbing my clit as fast as i could. Small whimpers left my mouth and i stoped as soon as i became too sensitive. I never understood how could someone get another orgasm so quickly. I never had the courage to try.

After actually taking a shower i put on my still wet white top and jean shorts from earlier. When i looked myself in the mirror i could see my nipples. Yes, the shirt was basically see-through, but it's gonna dry until Billy comes here.

My head was still dizzy from my shower session, but i felt as if i could do it again. On the kitchen counter. Or my bed. Or even—

Ding!

Shit. He's here. And then i remembered. THE PAPERS! Stupid, horny, bitch. I ran upstairs and into my parents' bedroom taking them and practically sprinting to the front door.

When i opened them, I was greeted with sapphire eyes and blond locks. Oh my... What would happen if i pulled him inside and told him to fuck me on the table?

"I would happily agree." Did i just...Did i just say that out loud. Oh no. No no no. Wait.

"You'd agree?" What?!

"You really think i came here just to get those fucking papers?" He raised an eyebrow and stepped inside, shutting the door.

"When i saw how flustered you looked when i approached you today...I was beginning to wonder..." He stepped closer. The fact that he was shirtless didn't help. "Would you complete fall apart if i touched you?" His finger grazed my cheek.

I think i need air. My mouth had gone dry and i could barely breathe. If he touched me? Like i imagined him touching me? I would pass out. I'm barely holding on right now.

"I changed my mind. I don't want table. I want shower." It just slipped. I don't know what has suddenly gotten into me. Need to be fucked, said one part of my brain.

His grin appeared once again, "Full of surprises."

"You still haven't seen anything. Now shut up and come here." I took his arm, feeling hard muscles beneath my palm, and pulled him towards me. Our lips crashed and i opened my mouth immediately to let his tongue in. He licked my bottom lip and then bit it, causing me to groan. I pulled back and kissed down his neck, to his collarbone, sinking my teeth into his skin. He inhaled sharply. Then i pressed my back to his chest and pressed him against the wall. He quietly laughed, but almost immediately stopped because i started grinding my ass on his crotch. He was already hard. God i want to take him right here.

What's stopping me? My parents aren't home, no one else could see us and he looked almost as desperate as me.

So i turned around and got down on my knees in front of him. His lips were gently parted, cheeks flushed, but i wanted to make him unravel. I pulled down his shorts and took his stone hard dick in my hand stroking it, not breaking eye contact. I grazed his tip with my thumb, then licked it. Slowly. He clenched his jaw, refusing to make a sound. I continued to lick him, full length, torturing him by my slow pace, while my panties were soaking wet. I swear i'm going to come again just by watching him like this.

I decided to finally take him in my mouth, but not fully. His jaw finally unclenched and he gripped my hair with his strong hands. Finally.

"If you want me to properly suck you, i'm going to need to hear your pretty voice." I blinked at him with my best impression of doe eyes. It seemed to work cause he threw his head back, swallowing hard.

I finally put his full length in my mouth sucking gently, trying not to bite too hard, while still using my teeth. Then he moaned. Mission successful. And that sound was the hottest thing i heard. I clenched my thighs together, trying to ignore my aching spot. He started breathing faster and i took it as my sign to stop.

He wanted to protest, but i got up. He stepped out of his shorts, so i took his toned arm and pulled him in the bathroom.

"Let's play a game," he suggested. "You," he put his hand over my throat, "Don't get to stop coming, until i let you." Oh God.

"Don't go too far, Hargrove."

"Never. Now sit and spread out for me."

I took off my jean shorts and sat on the edge of the bathtub, only in my panties and see-through shirt. Now he was kneeling, my legs caging him. He looked at me innocently and started touching my clit over my panties. My mouth fell open. I waited too long. Or at least it felt like it. He took my underwear and pulled it up, still massaging me.

"Holy shi—," my eyes went to the back of my skull and i let out embarrassingly loud moan. He then moved my panties to the side and sticked two fingers in me.

"Stand up." He might as well told me to fucking fly. I don't trust that i'm capable of doing that. "I said stand up, or i'm stopping and leaving right now." I do as he says.

With his fingers still in me, his mouth lowers on my stomach and starts placing little kisses all over it. When he reached my most sensitive area i put my hand over my mouth, caging my groans.

He licked from my entrance to my clit, atopping there and applying most pressure with his tongue, while also working me with his fingers. I never came so quickly in my life. But instead to stop, he kept going, only this time rubbing my sensitive clit.

My legs started to give out at this point so he sat me down on the bathtub again and started licking like he's fucking starved.

And another orgasm started building up in my lower stomach. "Bi‐Billy!" I bit down on my hand, stopping myself before i wake up the whole neighborhood.

"Good girl. Let's do one more." Oh no.

"I don't think i can. It's too‐ it's too mu—"

"You'll manage, don't worry. Now turn around."

I turned so my back was to him, legs in the bathtub. He took the showerhead and turned on the water. The pressure i put on while masturbating was still there. He smiled. No, no, no.

Without a warning he placed it on my clit and i screamed. I fucking screamed. It was too much and he knew it. I gripped his arm, digging my nails into it.

Tears formed in the corners of my eyes, "Billy, stop, I can't—"

And he stopped. I sighed in relief, but it was too soon. He took me in his arms and led me to the kitchen counter. He bend me over it and gently parted my legs with his knee.

"It'll be over soon. Take a deep breath." And he buried himself into me. I cried out, gripping on the cold stone. His another thrust came even more violently.

"You see? It wasn't that hard now, was it?" He quickened his pace, making my head spin. I swear i'm going to pass out. I felt him everywhere. I felt every inch of his dick in me and it fucking hurt but it also felt so good.

I yelped and he pulled my hair, seizing my throat once again. My vision became blurry as he thrusted once more before pulling out and starting to fuck me with his fingers again. I decided to give him a handjob so he could finish. I was at least capable of doing that.

I came again, thanks to his fingers, and shortly after that he did too. I could barely stand straight.

Gripping the counter i gave him a weak smile, "Get those papers, would you?"

[vay99]

Ace x reader

His hat

Anime/Manga: One Piece

"GIVE ME MY HAT BACK!!!" screams Ace running towards the deck. You remain laying on your bed with the arms under your head and Aces hat laying on your face. A smirk is crawling onto your lips as Aces voice gets quiter what means he ran of towards the wrong direction. 

After 10 minutes of not hearing the freckle boy running around screaming you make your way towards the deck, still wearing his hat. 

Ace is talking to Marco, the back towards you.

"You really haven't seen her?" Ace asks the older one who just spottet you cursing a smirk on his face. 

"No why are you asking?" 

Ace points at his head which makes the phoenix laugh. "My hat is gone that's not funny!!" he pouts. 

"What makes you think she has stolen it?" the Phoenix tries not to laugh as you tip toe close to them. 

"Who else would do that? She's been stealing my things for the last couple of days." Ace groans,.that's when you step next to him. 

"What's up?" you ask casually, and Marco is finally able to laugh. 

"Y/N!" Ace jumps in confusion. One he spots his hat though he tries to snatch it from your head.

"You've gotta catch me if you want it back~" you winks before running off. 

At first Ace doesn't move. "Catch her huh? You're so done when I catch you." 

"Ah, young love. They really are blind." Marco says to himself, watching Ace run after where you've ran. 

"y/n where are you?!" Ace has been running around for ten minutes now is growing impatient. 

"I've seen her run down that way a few seconds ago." Thatch tells Ace, who runs off towards you immediately. 

"Awww no place to escape to now?" Ace doesn't hide his sarcasm. But you don't quite react like he predicted. "W-why are you laughing?"

"It's just funny that, after a whole week, you have finally been able to catch me." you laugh, leaning onto the wall behind you. 

"Why would you want me to catch you?" Ace tries to figure out what's going on but you remain silent. "Tell me why you stole my head." 

"Make me." you smirk, hoping he'll finally gets the hint. 

"How? Trap you in my fire until you speak?" the clueless men in front of you asks. 

"Oh ace..." you sigh. "You won't ever get it." 

Throwing his hat back to his owner you close your eyes, head resting against the wall. /It didn't work. It never works. Why would he give me attention anyways. We're only crewmates/

"Get what?" he asks, his anger washed away once his hat is back on its place. 

"Forget it. It's stupid, not important." you force a smile. 

"You're the smartest person on this ship, it can't be dumb." Ace points out, stepping closer to you until he's half a meter away. One arm supporting himself above you. 

"Wow, congrats that you noticed that." the sarcasm in your voice making him frown. 

"How couldn't I? You're spending most of your time in the library. Marco even said that your knowledge for medicine is on the same level as his. You're even able to read the stars and navigate us and-" 

"So you did notice me?" you ask, eyes staring at your feet. "Why do you always run away when I talk to you then?" 

"Cause I'm dumb, all I do is sleep, eat and fight. I neve thought you'd enjoy talking to me." 

"You really are dumb." you laugh, leaving ace dumbfounded. 

"Hey!" 

"The reason why I stole your stuff the past week was... because you always ignored me and I, for once, wanted your attention." you confess honestly. 

His attitude changes with the split of a second, his free hand lifts your chin. 

"Oh baby, you could've just asked. Which part of your body should I start with~" Ace lowers his lips towards your neck, placing soft kisses on your skin. 

"Huh?" you let out a short yelp. /Wait, did he just act dumb?/

"I knew what you wanted earlier, it finally made sense. But until then I really thought you'd never wanted to spend time with, someone-" 

"Hot, kind and cute?" you finish his sentence before he can talk bad about himself again. 

"Let me show you how hot I can really be then." he whispers into your ear before you grab him by his neck and slam your lips into his. Pressing his, indeed hit, body against yours makes you lose your mind. Using his flames to heat up the situation and even burn your top. So your left with your bra in front of him. 

"Ace!" you scold him. 

"Sorry it was an accident~" he chuckles, placing his hat on your head again. 

"Sorry my assaaaa!" you yelp, as he throws you over his shoulder and carries you towards his room.

"Maybe I should've burned you'd pants then? Oh wait, I can do that in a minute~"

"As long as you buy me new ones."

[valentine-writes]

Could you write something about hanahaki disease with Johnathon ohnn? (Could end in angst or fluff either is good :3) no rush ofc, i love your work!!!

choking on flowers.

「 tws + notes: open ended ending, implications/mentions of death (but no Actual Death), unedited, OOC, interpretation of hanahaki may be slightly diff (i haven't heard of this trope thing in a hot min ngl so im not the Greatest With This), pre-collider even though his holes generating flowers is a silly thought which i giggled abt while writing this, present/past tenses are fucked up cuz i changed formatting halfway, angst?? 」

「 gn!reader, (unrequited) romantic relationship </3 」

↳ ft. johnathan/johnathon ohnn

author's note: THANK U SMMM!! (∩^o^)⊃━☆ lowkey 4got thiz thing existed lolz,, and while hanahaki aus are no longer My Thing, i wud b lying if i told u i didn't eat hanahaki ficz up in middle school ＞︿＜!! sooo,, here we go!!! hopefully this is ok,, many apologies for how short it iz aauwgwhwh

this is the third time you've called him today, trying to reach out. the first two times, he had thought he was strong enough to ignore you.

he was wrong. the minute his phone rang out that third time, he practically scrambled over to it just to answer. pathetic.

"you haven't been at work for what,,, almost two weeks now?"

the concern in your voice makes johnathan want to keel over dead instantly– not like he's far from it anyways. he pulls his phone away as he lets out a weak cough. you barely hear it from your end of the call.

"...sick." is all he manages to rasp out, his sore throat preventing him from speaking further. even if he could manage to talk more, he wouldn't know what else to say. how would he tell you? the call ends prematurely. you know you're not going to get more out of him, and he knows that it's better to keep you in the dark about his situation.

to tell you about how his unrequited feelings have manifested into something much more than both of you can handle was completely and absolutely out of the question. how was he supposed to explain he had been coughing up your favourite flowers? johnathan would rather let it kill him.

not only was he humiliated by the sheer intensity of his yearning– he knew you'd end up feeling guilty about it. yet, a part of his heart ached, wishing that he was selfish enough to tell you. maybe seeing you cry over him would give him some semblance of love.

that was an awful thought. he promptly pushed it aside. he'd never want to make you cry.

he could only laugh at how frustrating his situation is. it was inescapable, his fate inevitable and ever nearing– and no one to tell.

he had never felt so alone.

at least i'll have flowers for my funeral, he thought in the deafening silence of his home, finding the energy to let out a weak chuckle over the thought.

–

a few days after the call, his phone buzzed, receiving a text from you:

i'm coming over'

straightforward, at least.

'what if you get sick?' he messages back, trying to generate excuses to keep you away.

you reply swiftly, before he can come up with anything else, unswayed by the idea of potentially catching his illness which, unbeknownst to you, wasn't really transferable anyways. 'we'll wear masks then. omw.'

lovely. you were stubborn as ever. at least you gave him a heads up.

he noticed you made no attempt to keep your distance from him as you dropped off his little care package.

all neatly put into a little basket was some fresh fruit you had insisted he needed, as you rambled over the importance of vitamin c and immune health, a sweet little card filled with "get better soon"s filled by his coworkers at alchemax most of which he knew probably didn't really care all that much, a few packages of cough drops you had been a sweetheart to actually choose ones which had bearable flavours, a blanket, a few snacks, and... flowers.

if you had known exactly what illness, he doubted this choice would have been made. he stared at them silently, finding some sort of humor in the mortifying irony.

-

you said an awkward goodbye at his door, about to turn around and head off– before hesitating for a second.

"johnathan?" the way you looked at him, eyes filled with tenderness and worry– maybe it wasn't so bad after all, for you to be the death of him.

"...yeah?"

you didn't say anything further, instead, choosing to communicate through impulsively squeezing him into a tight hug.

you pull away just as quick as it had happened, yet the warmth of your embrace lingered a little longer, even as you headed out the door. something about you caring so much made it hurt more.

johnathan wondered why you even cared, why you were so persistent about looking out for him– knowing that he'd end up watching you slip away from him again, leaving an ache in his heart nothing could remedy.

he couldn't blame you. not sweet, kind, thoughtful you. he was the idiot, the careless fool who yearned for something he couldn't have.

maybe in another life, he thought to himself.

[sillyromance]

Hello! I don’t know if you know this character well enough, but I’ll try my best. Can you please make some kind of scenario with G1 Sunstreaker?

Good day, dear anonymous!

I'm very sorry that completing this has taken so much time... But, finally, I've come up with an idea for the writing. Perhaps, it has turned out too fluffy...

Nevertheless, hope you enjoy!

Not alone.

- Y/n!

You turned – your eyes locked on the lemon-yellow frame of Sunstreaker. Your big autobot friend had just returned from the mission: his crimson brother was somewhere nearby too since you could hear his loud crispy voice; he was buzzing annoyingly like a big bug in a child's fist. Definitely, boasting again… If there was a battle, those two inevitably found themselves right in the middle of it – and none of the twins was shy to show off, talking about their victories and crazy adventures. Though, that time it seemed like one of the young heroes decided to spend some time with a little human instead…

- Hi, pal! How’s it goin’? – You tried to make your voice sound in the most optimistic way possible, though a careful listener would easily recognise you pretended.

- We’ve fried some ‘cons, obviously! You should have seen how their armor got covered with that appetizing crisp! – He went down on his knee, his blue optics looking attentively in your eyes. – A usual day, really… But I see there’s somethin’ wrong. Mind to tell me?

- It's nothing. Well... I don’t know. It’s not that important. – Your gaze avoided his, your hands going back and forth, rubbing your hips and leaving long white stripes on the jeans.

There were many other bots around. Optimus, Ironhide, First Aid… Of course, they were very compassionate and understanding - but you didn’t want to talk about your problems while it was so crowded. As for Sunny, you felt grateful for being cared about, especially if it was someone who usually cared about himself more than about anyone else… Still, such stuff were not for everyone to know…

There were many things going wrong in your life lately. It would be hard to count them all… However, it didn’t mean you would let yourself act like a baby and cry on a random shoulder – no matter fleshy or steely. The bots and people working with them had a lot of things to do. Decepticons never lost a chance to cause even a tiny trouble – though, honestly, usually it was a complete disaster. It was a war… There was no time for being weak. The world wouldn’t save itself.

Sunstreaker titled his helm on a side and smiled softly.

- I thought of a ride around the base… I wondered if you'd like to join me, huh? I doubt you will reject such a cool guy like me.

- Sure not, Sunny. – You couldn’t help but smirked teasingly at his charming behaviour. - Though, I’m afraid to burn down like those ‘cons. It’s getting kinda hot around here, haven't you noticed?

He laughed lightheartedly, you accompanied him. Then he turned into his vehicle mode. Getting in the car, you heard Wheeljack calling for you two:

- Hey, guys! Where are you going?

- Oh, doc! It's just a little ride!

- Don’t you remember, Streaker – you and Sideswipe are helping me in the lab this evenin’!

- Don’t worry, doc! You know, you can count on us!

- Yeah… I don't think so after the previous time I…

- Whatever, bye!

Before the inventor could say anything else, the Lamborghini drove off the place at full speed, heading to the exit.

Evening air was refreshing; it carried soothing scents of warm sand and wild flowers. Rubby-gold clouds swam in the peach sky; tired ochre sun was slightly touching the edge of the horizon. The bot was silent. It was a little bit surprising, though you was grateful. You didn’t want to chat at that moment.

Looking at the rocky, orange landscape, you sighed with satisfaction. That was exactly that you needed. Noisy and humid atmosphere of the base tired you up; Sunstreaker saw this perfectly at the very minute he spotted you on that corner. He knew you well enough. You two didn’t waste much time on long preludes at the first meeting and got along just fine. The more you hanged out together, the closer you became. So, you quickly reached the point when friends start reading each other’s minds.

He was enjoying your presence, your body lying conveniently on his cushy seats and your hands touching the steering wheel. Though you weren't a cybotronian, you were one of the most important souls in the world for him – after his beloved brother, of course. And your low spirit concerned him much. He really wanted to speak to you there and then, however, he saw it wasn’t a good moment. Well, you would be at your secret place soon anyways – there he would ask…

After one-two kilometers he slowed down and pulled over to the side road which soon made its way upwards a sloping hill. There were much more plants than before; slim and dry trunks of acacias surrounded you, throwing long lavender shades at the car and the passenger inside. Endless blue sea of the heavens was broken into pieces of rainbow glass with thin, blooming brunches. The bot stopped; you hopped out and ran forward to a long pink cliff looming behind the trees. Sunstreaker followed, already on his feet too.

The cliff was a good spot for relaxation. It was calm, quiet, peaceful; a colorful blooming plain and a small bunch of the trees created a beautiful, almost wild landscape. Everywhere you could see was a domain of prairie. Though, downwards, there was a small town in a valley; the streetlights always switched on pretty early, they looked like fireflies sitting on the ancient eastern carpet. At that moment they were shining too – tiny stars floating in the violet air. Tough stone was drowning in plants; yellow grass tickled your bare ankles. The grove on the left rustled softly in the coming twilights; wide waves were walking over the fields.

- So… Now, we are alone. – The bot began, looking at the transparent, smoky moon starting its way above the world. – Maybe, now could you tell me?

You shrugged your shoulders, then looked at your boots – a tiny ant was running around your foot helplessly. You took a long stalk and helped the insect down on the ground.

- I don’t know. It’s… a lot.

The bot chuckled.

- I’m all audio sensors.

- Since when have you become so thoughtful, buddy?

- Since I’ve known you!

- Really? Ok, ok…

You were talking till the sun sat and the sky got covered in its cute glittering freckles. The wind rose; it was already chilly, almost cold. Thin summer shirt wasn’t able to protect you from the cooling night weather. You rubbed your forearms, trying to regain warmth; Sunstreaker glanced at your shivering figure, worried.

- Are you cold, little one? – He asked.

- Yeah… A bit. I think, it would be better for us to return.

- Agreed… - He responded, transforming…

At base everyone had been sleeping when you came. Trying not to wake the comrades up (especially, Wheeljack), you sneaked inside and turned into one of the corridors, heading to your quarters.

- Are you sure you’ll be all right on your own? – Your friend kneeled and let you climb on his large flat palm. His optics were gleaming softly in the darkness.

- Are there any other options? – You smiled.

- Well… - His voice became shaky. – I could… take you with me…

- It would be uncomfortable for both of us, don’t you think?

He thought for a minute or two, then turned to you, expression of his faceplate showing a mix of hope and... embarrassment?!

- Actually, I have an idea… But I don’t know if you…

- Just say it out loud, boy.

He took a deep “breath”, stabilizing his systems.

- I could… I could put you in my fuel tank. So, you would be safe while sleeping and… not alone as well.

You heart skipped a beat.

- Wait, wait, wait… But transformers’ fueltanks work in the same way human stomachs do, don’t they?

- Still, we can’t process organic materials, remember?

He had a point. You exhaled.

- Right… Nevertheless, it sounds so crazy…

- I understand. So... It’s your choice.

You rubbed your chin, considering the offer. On one hand, you were about to be swallowed(!) alive by a metal titan and spend a whole night inside him without any guaranties that something wouldn’t go wrong. But at the same time, he was your best friend; you could trust him. After all, that all was just a matter of trust.

You met his gaze once again - the bot waited for your decision, though you could see the flames of impatience jumping in his optics.

- I… I don’t mind. I know you won’t hurt me.

You could tell he was happy to hear that; tension released the bot’s figure, he grinned joyfully like a big cat.

- Wow! Thank you, Y/N! I swear it's gonna be the best experience possible for you!

- Fine, big guy! Let’s get it over with…

He opened the door of the room he and his brother were sharing. Sideswipe was snoring peacefully on his berth; he didn’t notice neither of you and didn’t hear how Sunstreaker closed the door and lied on his own bed.

- Shhhh… - He whispered as he saw you trying to say something. – He won’t bother us. Sides won’t open his optics even if the skies crack on two.

You giggled. But the bot’s faceplate suddenly went sober.

- Are you still sure?

You nodded confidently.

- Perfect… If anything scares you, just call for me - I'll stop and let you out. Don’t be shy, Ok?

- Ok.

- Good… Now, please, hold still…

His grip tightened a little as you were lifted to his opening mouth. Your feet were laid on something wet and warm – it wrapped around them, coating you in heavy, slick slime. Tingles ran down your spine as you realized it was his glossa tasting you, and the slime was the drool coaxing your limbs, preparing you for… for the way down. Sunstreaker’s throat produced a silent moan of pleasure – it seemed he liked your flavor! Huh… You couldn’t help but blushed, thinking about you being such a tasty tiny candy.

Meanwhile, the bot very gently pushed you further, to the pharynx. Your hands finally met with the pulsing, smooth tongue which leaned to them eagerly, then slipped behind you back. The servo loosened up; now you were in the bot’s mouth entirely, being held by his long, plushie glossa. Misty, hot air filled your lungs; it was too dark to see, but you could feel your toes wriggling in the open space – the awaiting entrance of the esophagus. Streams of oily saliva vanished in that black hole with loud, delicious sounds of gulps. At first, they frightened you; instinctively, you grabbed the flesh of your improvised bed and made an attempt to crawl away from the danger. However, the very minute you did that, the swallows faded. Sunstreacker froze still, granting you a chance to stop – undoubtedly, it would disappoint him, but he didn’t want to startle his human friend. You took a big breath and forced yourself to calm down. There was nothing that would mean harm to you. The mech wouldn’t hurt you - he loved you! You went through so many things together – undeniably, he was reckless sometimes, but he wouldn’t do anything that would lead to death of those he valued the most.

Hesitantly, you patted the glossa – it licked your cheek playfully, comforting, then bend over, letting you slide back to the throat. Powerful metal muscles contracted around your ankles and tugged you in the comforting embrace of the esophagus.

Trembling, the bot outlined a small round bulge on his neck with his digit as you were fully pulled inside his throat. He swallowed hard, yet carefully, sending your warm, fragile body further down his huge tough body. The mech could still sense you wriggle, moving deeper and deeper inside beneath his chest plates. Some more slow seconds – and you arrived at your destination, being dropped into whining chamber of the alien “stomach”, making a nice little bulge on Sunstreaker’s abdomen.

His servo leisurely traced your path and stayed on the lump, massaging it slightly. Inside, it was gurgly and wet, but cozily warm and soft. You felt your friend’s indecisive caresses and pressed your hand against a thick grey wall permeated with long thin energon cables from the bottom to the top.

- How are you, Y/N? Is it OK?

- Yes, Sunny, it is. Don’t worry so much! You did great, by the way…

- Oh… That’s good to hear, I guess… You too.

- Thanks…

It was awkward to have a conversation in that position, so neither of you said a word anymore. You rested against the plump bumps of the fueltank rubbing at you lovingly; soothing quiet sparkbeat and dim light coming from the walls as well as gentle growling sounds and warmth made its work – your eyelids soon grew heavy, you yawned and snuggled into the squishy metal.

- Sweet dreams, Sunny.

The bot curled up around you, hugging his growling, full middle.

- Same for you, dear.

[wanderingblindly]

HI!!!! for the director's cut thing: anything about you bring me closer to god that you haven't shared yet? 😊

HELLO EMY MY DARLING MY CHILD!!!!!! Thank you for asking about ✨her✨

Looking back at my previous comments about this fic, I’ve shared a lot about the writing process it seems. So today, I’d like to talk about some of the non-Oscar perspectives!

I thought a good deal about what Lando was feeling during this, since his body language and actions were the focus on a lot of Oscar’s internal monologue. Not that he always read them correctly, to be clear, but it was important nevertheless lol. The first piece of Lando that I parsed out is that ALL of his behavior before and after a show is part of his performance. There might be truth slipped into it, of course, but every choice he makes is stylized and intentional. For example:

Until he’s there, just like he’s always there: a half-zipped hoodie thrown over his stage clothes, hair finger combed into something a little more presentable, heavily-lined eyes alight with endorphins yet to wear off. Then the seconds crawl, briefly, as Oscar stands there, dish rag in hand, looking at him. Watching as Lando rests an elbow on the bar, cupping his jaw in his hand and tilting his head to the side – looking at him, too.  His jacket isn’t zipped this time – hanging loosely off his shoulders

Lando spent TIME making sure his hair looked presentable, even if it was that “intentionally messy” look; he spent TIME making sure his jacket hung off his shoulders just right before stepping out to the bar. In my mind, the twenty minutes spent back stage after a show was reflective of both his perfectionism ((his desire to broadcast the exact image the band needs)) and his nervousness around Oscar ((wanting to play the exact character Oscar would be most attracted to)).

in the following scene, I spent some time wondering why Lando would go to the bar during the day. It’s implied that they’ve had their post-show routine for a few weeks, so why now? In my mind, there were two possible reason — both of which I alluded to in the previous scene.

A) George or Alex finally goaded him into it:

We know that Lando feels like talking to Oscar is easier when he’s in costume, when he can hide behind his stage persona. We also know that Alex gave Lando a knowing look after their last performance — asking if Lando was gonna stay late again. It’s subtly implied that the band knows Lando is down ATROCIOUS, and maybe that side comment was the indication that they’re gonna finally push him on it.

B) Lando finally had a moment of realization:

The scene ends with a bit of an ‘ow’: Lando seemingly flirting with a beautiful woman down the bar, and Oscar trying his best to ignore it. While I mostly wrote this to show that Oscar has some insecurities around Lando and his vivacious personality, I also wanted it to show Lando’s perspective. To me, Lando wasn’t genuinely flirting with her — he was just making conversation, he’s just continuing to play the part of ‘hot and gregarious frontman’. Maybe she got a bit too forward, or maybe he caught a hint of hurt in Oscar’s eye — maybe both. In the end, I thought that maybe this was a moment where Lando realized that playing a part the entire time he’s with Oscar won’t get him what he wants.

As my last bit of ramble, I thought about how to show Lando’s discomfort/awkwardness without making it clear to Oscar what he was thinking — and I did so by having him storm into the bar and start bombarding Oscar with questions.

I wanted the effect of having him sound confident while actually being horrifically weird. Like, spamming someone with questions, not allowing them to return the favor, that’s…. Poor social etiquette. It’s a little off putting. Oscar finds it endearing because he’s also down atrocious, but objectively Lando was not playing it smooth. This would have worked on absolutely no one but Oscar.

Feel free to ask more about any of my fics 💖

[fluffyprettykitty]

resentment

Pairing: biker! Sam Wilson x female reader (no other specifications!)

Word Count: 1600 words

Outline: Sam always came around looking for one thing but this time he's gonna find out more than he ever thought he could.

Warnings: hate sex, rough play, swearing, toxicity, spit play, slapping, degradation, use of whore & slut, unprotective penetrative sex, ya know the usual stuff

Author’s Note: This is my entry for Missy's @saiyanprincessswanie 3.5K Challenge! Used the following: biker! au, the prompt, 'do you regret letting us end?' & hate sex. Missy congrats on your growing number of followers, your presence and work in the community are super important and you are such a delightful hard working person! wishing you the best always! Thanks to all you helped brainstorm with him for this fic <3

Main Masterlist ・❥・ Sam Wilson Masterlist

"You really wanna play like that?" Sam asks you, his breath hot on your neck his hands cupping your ass under your shorts in the quietness of the about-to-be-closed car wash.

Well, you would have closed up if your ex-boyfriend hadn't shown up, gold chain on his neck and a white shirt hanging so low all of his chest hair, and arms were exposed. He looked absolutely delicious, any girl would fall at his feet at a moment's notice.

But you weren't rolling like that. There was an argument. Your co-worker tried to defend you but you told her you could handle it and for her to check up on you in ten minutes through whispers and glares. She didn't want to see you in tears, you'd end up in tears anyway. Just not the kind she thought.

But then again not everyone was into what you wanted.

Ten minutes is a lot of time for famous local biker Sam Wilson. One of the most coveted men in California. And here he was pushing your body against the wall and his hand playing with the waistband of your shorts. Oh, how well does his hand fit right there?

"You don't want me here, sugar." He mused finally touching your bare skin that reacts to his touch familiarly. "You wish I'd just drop dead." He whistles playfully licking his tongue all over his bottom lip. You really wish you could remember what the original argument was about, but you know that's not important.

"I'm not that mean, Wilson." You roll your eyes and try to surpass the moan that wants so bad to get out as his large fingers discover your cotton panties. If you'd thought he'd be coming over today on all of the days, you might have worn something else...

"You really out here, entertaining other men."

"Didn't we break up?"

"Is this what you call breaking up?"

"You are only good for one thing, baby, focus on it." You snap back ready to talk the game when you need to.

"Oh is that how it is?"

"Yeah. I know why you're here. "

"So yesterday, late night, you didn't come with your little ugly boy to my club trying to provoke me?"

"Sam you have the only club down the coast."

"Excuses... excuses."

"Sam if I wanted to provoke you I'd fuck a dude right on your hood."

Something snapped inside him and Sam manhandles you in a way that has you now facing the wall, your back to him, a tight grip on your neck.

"Say that again." He whispers. "But mean it this time."

Well, it's not like you're going to hesitate at all.

"I would fuck a dude right under your nose. Maybe even on your bed., maybe I'd even send you pictures."

You know he's gonna see red, you want him to. He needs to stop coming down here where you work and act like this. You haven't been his for a while and it's a decision that was all his.

"I think that I am the only one willing to fuck your little tight ass. Look at it. Can barely hold a dick inside her even if she tried. C'mon who would wanna waste their time?"

To say that his degrading behavior didn't hurt your feelings or made you want to please him, even more, wanting to prove yourself to him, your own salvation, would be an understatement. His grip on your neck pressing your one cheek to the wall possessively has you reaching the most submissive state.

"Who could fuck you like that? Who could have your legs shaking with just three fingers inside the goddamn produce aisle? You fucking love your veggies, don't you, baby girl?"

A smack on your ass and this time you wail.

"Answer daddy. C'mon you remember how a girl can speak or is your stupid brain getting too hazy at the prospect of getting dick. Always such a dumb look on your face, eyes wide and bright begging to get filled like the little pathetic whore that you are. Tell me does your daddy know that the pretty little girl he raised has turned into nothing but a cum storage?"

You have to reply, you are fighting the urge to submit to his command and you master your courage. "F-fuck you, Sam! Anyone can fuck me, your big dick ain't that special."

"Oh. How about you repeat that after I shove it inside you."

"Won't change my mind."

"But you want it inside you."

"You want it more, Sammy, don't fool yourself."

"Only as long as you do, princess."

"Erik fucked me so good last night, cum was dripping down my thigh. I don't need your cock to fuck me good."

You think that would break him, that he'd made him rip your panties and fuck you senseless and your coworker would come inside to find you screaming and shaking. But Sam knows when you lie. Or maybe he stalked you a little.

"Erik sounds like he knows how to fuck a slut. Wanna show me how you fucked him? Wanna show him how you bounced on his cock begging that it was mine?"

"N-no!" You protest and try to look back at him even though it's not an easy task.

"He asked me on a date, something you've never done."

There is silence. Sam expected a lot of things but not this. His grip gets loose and finally, you turn around as his fingers slip from your skin, your mouths breathing air across each other.

Then his lips crush yours and you use your hands trying to push him off of you but you are happy he is finally setting himself loose. His hand finds your panties pushing them to the side, just to use his calloused fingers to touch your skin and amuse himself at your wetness.

But you wanna play. He deserves it.

So you slap him on the face as he lets go of the kiss and he is confused for a split second before he is slapping you back and crushing your lips together again. It excites you, your legs wrap around him as your hands wrap around his neck and he is fumbling with his low-cut jeans.

"You are really bad at holding in your excitement. Look at how wet you are, pathetic. You want me to believe a man fucked you last night? Baby your pussy speaks a different story."

"She just like getting fucked, doesn't matter whose cock is filling it."

And his cock is out, standing firm in attention, getting stroked a few times with his hand and his spit over it, the sheer sight always making you feral, and then it's inside you, breaching your velvet walls. He is pushing your body against the wall, the bright lights from the open sign illuminating your body. He is rough, he is precise, he is truly running out of time.

"If that's how it is. Maybe I don't need to look at your ungrateful face." He chuckles before he is slipping out of you and pushes your body to the floor you are scrambling to get steady on your knees as his body shields yours and he pushes his cock inside again. Fitting right where it should be. His hands are over yours, his hips moving against your body almost hatefully, aggressively, and possessively.

He fucked you like an object, his object, his to break, his to mend.

Smacks on your ass become more stingy as your hands can barely hold up as he almost stands up now, fucking your body so viciously. He wanted to break you, to make you admit, what you felt for him, hatred, passion, love, something, you must have felt something for him and he is gonna take it out of you.

When his fingers play with your clit, you cum instantly screaming his name and when he finishes he does so without stopping, just keep going pushing his cum right back inside you until he twisted you around again. Loose shirt hanging off his shoulders, chain dinging over your face, his face covered in sweat, his jeans rolled around his ankles. No boxers ever. Your shirt not moved at all, your shorts and panties pushed to the side, just enough to give him access to your holes.

"Did Erik fuck you like that?" He might seem confident cause he knows you haven't actually done that but you know exactly how to make him cry.

"He took my hand, dressed me up and showed me off to the world. Unlike you."

Now you weren't lying. He was a gentleman and after the club, he left you at home and asked to come to pick you up on Sunday for a little beach trip. Sam was tied to his city. Sam never went anywhere.

"This is my home."

"It's not mine though, Sam. One day I will move away, and I need someone to come with me. I can't be tied like this."

He finally snaps holds your chin up with his large hand and his dark chocolate eyes meet yours.

"Do you regret letting us end?"

The moment would have been oh so romantic if it wasn't for that stupid cocky smirk appearing on his face. Without hesitation you shake your head negatively.

There is no end to this. There can never be.

"Have we really ended?"

"Guess not."

"Guess not."

Maybe if you picked it right at the start you could meet each other half way but for now you had to deal with the screech coming from your friend's mouth.

There is no ending for people who never truly started is there?

for updates please follow @fluffyprettykittylibrary!

[ink-flavored]

everything under preferences & emotions for the jumbo ask game? :3

woagh a beeg one

so my heart always wants to talk about Pride and Justice, literally all the time, for any reason. but i also want to shove Harlan and Yvonne in everyone's faces, as the new kids on the block. so to satisfy my extremely indulgent urges, i'm going to split this list in half and answer 5 for each couple.

Pride & Justice

🔥 Give us a list of general likes and dislikes, such as colors, textures, music, weather and other stuff!

Okay for Justice this is easy. He likes books and analyzing books (especially romance, especially in his book club), basically any animal (including humans), bright colors (yellow, light green, soft blues, lotta pastels in his wardrobe), soft textures, fruity scents (like in lotion and shampoo and stuff), his favorite season is spring, he likes overcast skies, and he'll listen to just about any music but has an affinity for classical and Lo-Fi Hip-Hop Beats To Study/Relax To.

On the other hand, Pride is so repressed that he does not allow himself to enjoy things for a hot minute because he's afraid of looking Weak and Vulnerable for Experiencing Joy. He'll admit to enjoying weed, alcohol, shoplifting, and inciting violence, but that's about it. Eventually, he comes to enjoy the punk scenes Ollie frequents and trips and falls into emo stuff (he also listens to pop-y club music when he's not at the club, but won't admit it), he can tortuously admit his favorite color is maroon, he obsesses over telenovelas with Sofia, he loves watching bad movies on purpose to make fun of them, he likes rain and snow, and his favorite texture is "Justice's clothes."

🍊 What is your OC’s favorite meal? Snack? Dessert? Drink? Any reasons behind this besides liking how it tastes? What is your OC’s most hated food? Stuff they can’t stand to eat or drink?

Justice is partial to breakfast food in general, but simply cannot resist the opportunity to eat French toast when it's available. It's the first thing he perfected while learning to cook for the first time, so it's special in that way too.

Pride doesn't cook much (or rather, doesn't cook anything recognizable as human food), so his favorite things are made by other people or store bought. In general, he likes tart, sweet-and-sour flavors because it reminds him what his sin tastes like, and Ollie's weed brownies for exactly the reason you're thinking.

I haven't thought too much about what either of them dislike, so I'm pulling these out of my ass. Pride thinks yogurt is the weirdest, grossest food in the world, and Justice really doesn't understand the appeal of avocados.

🍑 Where is your OC’s favorite place to relax or calm down? Recount a story of their time spent in this place! What makes it so special to them? Is there anywhere your OC hates to go to? Anywhere that stresses them out or have negative memories of?

For a while, Purgatory was Pride's escape. Nobody cares about Purgatory, nobody would ever look for him there, so it's where he went to cool off after another fight with Lust or to escape someone he pissed off. Relatedly, Hell is his least favorite place (shock, gasp).

On Earth, he kinda just goes to his room and curls up in his blanket nest when upset. Sometimes he will accompany this with extremely loud sadboy music. If he's just chilling though, he'll sit in the most space-taking position on the couch possible and watch Epic Fail compilations or something. Bonus points if Justice is there and he can invite himself into his lap.

Justice likes to sit on the balcony and be quiet, either with a book or nothing. It's his Thinking Spot, where he goes to brain it all out. It's important to him because he never really... had a place for that in Heaven. Everything he did was strictly regulated and controlled, so all his "relaxing" had to be done during his designated "relax" time, which he """shockingly"""" didn't get a ton of.

He hasn't been on Earth long enough to have negative associations with any particular place, but his memories of Heaven have been quite tainted by his recent rejection. He both wants to go back desperately, and hates that he wants to at all.

🧡 Who is your OC’s favorite person? Why is this person the top of their list and have they actually met them (an idol or role model or celeb can be someone’s favorite after all!). Who does your OC absolutely hate, the one person who they’d sell to Satan for one corn chip? Why do they loathe this person so?

Pride's favorite person is HIM!

In seriousness, Pride has himself on a pedestal because literally nobody gave a shit about him up until the events of the story happened. It was/is a coping mechanism, a survival technique, a way to rationalize all his actions away as Correct, because if he was ever wrong then that meant that everyone who had ever hurt him was right. As he grows, he begins to unlearn this way of thinking, but he never really lets go of that core idea. Pride is the most important person in the world to Pride, because he has to be. When nobody else is around, he has to truly, genuinely, earnestly love himself, not just to cope, but to like... be happy. But since he's not alone, and does have people who love him, Justice is his favorite non-him person for both character development reasons and extremely gay reasons.

As for his least favorite people, that could honestly fill a book. He is so bitter. God for obvious reasons, Lust for being abusive, Lucifer for lying about being better than God, but his hatred for Envy is I think the most interesting. In real life, the emotions of envy and (unhealthy) pride are very closely linked - people who have an unhealthy relationship with their pride are often envious of other people. Pride hates Envy because she's the concept of everything he can't admit to himself (he's envious of angels and humans who are happy, loved, and have God's affection), and Envy hates him right back for flaunting his confidence/dismissal of her sin as a concept at her and showing what she thinks she needs to be happy (and no longer envious). They're catty as fuck.

Justice loves Pride (for gay reasons and character reasons), but it's an extremely close race, maybe even a tie, for his sister Kindness. She's the reason for a lot of who he is, they intentionally modeled their human bodies so they would look related. Kindness really helped shape his understanding of how God's justice and God's kindness work together to create the Perfect Wholesome World of Heaven and is a big reason he believes what he does. Obviously when Heaven turned out to not be so wonderful and wholesome, he still took those ideals with him to Earth. One of his core philosophies is that justice should be guided by kindness, not the other way around, and she helped teach him that.

His personal antagonist in the book is Honesty, and he loathes her for extremely good reasons. She was his direct superior in Heaven, and made his life very difficult once he started suggesting that maybe Purgatory isn't the best way to do things. He has been under her thumb for ages, and him leaving Heaven was basically the excuse she was looking for to brand him a traitor. Justice does not wish death on anyone, but he's very close saying some very mean words about Honesty.

📙 What kind of subjects (of conversation, of discussion, in school or whatever) does your OC find interesting or engaging or that they can talk for hours about? What kind of stuff do they just find fun? What things bore your OC to tears and they couldn’t care less about? Why?

Justice LOOOOVES Blorbo From His Books. Pick up any book in his collection, he'll have hours of conversation at the ready. Even the trashy pulpy ones - ESPECIALLY the pulpy ones tbh. He's also a rules lawyer by definition of embodying God's justice, so he also enjoys having a friendly argument of semantics and creating the most busted TTRPG characters you've ever seen based on nothing but technicalities.

What Justice does not like talking about is... arguments for the sake of arguing? I guess? He doesn't like getting into fights, he just likes talking about rules, so anyone coming at him with like... real Stakes in the topic at hand with Furious Rebuttals immediately turns him off. He's just playing toys. Why are you so mad.

As previously mentioned, Pride doesn't really allow himself to enjoy things for a while, and even when he does, he doesn't like the idea of talking for hours about stuff. When he gets into art and starts painting, he doesn't really talk about it as much as he just... does it all the time, here's a picture. He'd rather show, not tell, and let the art speak for itself. Even with his bad movies and telenovelas, he doesn't have much to say other than "they're so fuckin hilarious, this one's my favorite, we should watch it Right Now, No Take Backs."

Pride finds SO many things boring actually. Don't talk about sports, don't talk about anything with numbers, don't bring up PROBLEMS in the NEWS??? It better be FUNNY or SEXY or VIOLENT or he is not listening to you.

Harlan & Yvonne

😊 What can make your OC smile even when they’re feeling down? What cheers them up and makes everything feel better for them? Is your OC generally a happy person and do they enjoy making others smile? What about your OC makes others happy?

Harlan is definitely a happy guy by default, especially after starting magic HRT. He lives a very party-heavy college lifestyle around a lot of other party people, so he's very rarely in a situation where thinking about his problems is in the forefront of his mind.

Music pretty reliably makes him happy, and just being in a situation where there are lots of people having a good time also makes him want to have a good time, which is where the parties come in. The infectious energy and the drinking games and whatever party potions everyone is passing around, all that is where he wants to be, with the people he wants to be with.

Harlan is also very good at being your personal hype man? He will simply not let his friends get away with self-depreciation, and give you compliments until you agree that they're true.

Yvonne is a more subdued kind of happy. She's consistently homesick for her herd, but does her best to keep in touch and explore her big city lifestyle in Athendrolyn and make a new "herd" for herself.

When she's particularly homesick, she'll either go on a long walk/trot along the beach or the forest trails, or if the weather's bad, curl up with a warm drink and a blanket and watch nostalgic movies from her foalhood.

Her social battery for people she hasn't integrated into her "new herd" is drained quite quickly, but if she's mentally made you part of that group, you're basically family to her. She'll drop anything for her herd, no matter the situation, and is all around a very compassionate and loyal friend.

⭐ What is your OC afraid of? Any crippling phobias or some such? How do they act when scared and what helps them calm down? Does anyone ever find your OC scary? Why?

Yvonne is a centaur, so she has crippling horse anxiety. Which is to say, she's afraid of most things! When she was living with her herd, it was mitigated by being in a herd and having a community and a leader to follow, but when she moved away for access to magic HRT, it got worse. She's particularly afraid of unexpected loud noises, sudden movements, and can get pretty overwhelmed in flashy environments like parties or concerts. She definitely leans on the "flight" half of fight or flight, and will look for any escape route possible. Depending on what's causing the episode, just being in a quiet room with someone she trusts for a few minutes can be enormously helpful, but the most reliable way for her to not be anxious is for people to announce when they're coming into a room, explain whatever that noise just was, and not go to parties.

As for being scary, Yvonne is a Clydesdale, so I wouldn't put it past people to find her intimidating, but usually once she opens her mouth all that is put to rest. She's very friendly!

Harlan isn't a particularly anxious person, but does avoid the ocean whenever possible. He's terrified of the sea and most deep water in general. He can swim, he just doesn't like doing it, and it's pretty easy for him to be calm by not going near deep water👍ever 👍

He's not scary either, nor would he ever want to seem scary.

🍋 Does your OC act petty and jealous easily? What sort of things make them feel like this and do they experience guilt for getting so worked up? How do they deal with these emotions when they get them? If your OC doesn’t feel like this often, why not?

Harlan is definitely very petty. One thing that happens in the short story is that his friends tease him about making up Yvonne (because they'd never met her/seen a picture of her), and once she shows up he takes EVERY OPPORTUNITY to rub their noses in the fact that HHHIISSS girlfriend is here, and his REALLY AWESOME GIRLFRIEND is right there, and wow did he mention they're DATINGGGGG??????

He really hates being underestimated, or being made a fool of, which is why he reacts so strongly to things like that. He doesn't like feeling like he's second best, so if he feels like that's happening (even if it isn't), he asserts his "authority" basically with any straw he can grasp. Sometimes this is easy, like when Yvonne turns out to be real and not fake, but other times it's just... unrelated or insulting or made up. He's not good at impulse control, so usually he has to be told to knock it off.

Yvonne is not very petty or jealous because in general very calm and not very confrontational. She can be a little insecure, too, so in instances where she is feeling jealous, it's more internal, and she doesn't act on it.

When she does feel it bad enough, she can shut down and be kind of closed off. Usually someone can help talk her back out of it, and Harlan is especially good at this because he likes to hype her up at every opportunity.

📀 How easy is it to shock your OC? To confuse them? To lie to them, to manipulate them? How are they with feelings of trust? Can your OC be trusted?

Yvonne grew up pretty sheltered in a rural area with only other centaurs, so she's pretty out of her depth when she moves to Athendrolyn with its dozens of different creatures and customs and traditions. The culture shock made her pretty susceptible to being tricked, both in non-serious ways and worse ways, but she's definitely more vigilant now. She's very trusting, even after those unfortunate incidents, and will generally give people the benefit of the doubt.

Harlan is much quicker to call bullshit, but also quicker to go "yooooo no wayyyyy," about something that personally piques his interest, whether or not it's true. He tends to trust people unless they have a known history of being untrustworthy, and his fraternity (or whatever I'm calling it in this fictional world) can definitely spread news, true or false, faster than anyone can possibly outrun it, so if he's trusting someone he knows he can trust, but they got their info from someone else who got it from someone else etc... yeah.

On his end, Harlan is a pretty straightforward guy, but he does fib a liiiittle bit on occasion to seem cooler. It's why his friends jumped to "your girlfriend isn't even real" in the first place. It's more dramatic than the things he's done in the past, but it's also not not something he would do.

💛 In general, how in control of their emotions is your OC? Do they have a good hold on them or do their emotions control them, not the other way around? What do you think is the reason behind this and is your OC ever concerned about their lack of or good control?

As previously mentioned, Harlan doesn't have the greatest impulse control, and will act on how he feels before he thinks through what he's actually doing. He really feels the need to prove himself among his peers and seem cool and interesting, and the party lifestyle that encourages impulsive actions ddddoesn't help? much?

He knows he has this problem, and does try to catch himself, but it's a process after acting impulsively for so long. Yvonne being a stable, calm presence in his life has tremendously helped him.

Yvonne isn't impulsive at all, kind of the opposite. She has a lot of anxiety, and that prevents basically any impulsive action, which can cause her feelings to rule her life in a different way. She can be closed off and wary of things that aren't already in her comfort zone, especially growing up so sheltered.

She actually didn't realize how closed off she'd gotten until she met and started hanging out with Harlan, and has been slowly trying to increase her tolerance of out-of-comfort-zone experience since.

[send me something from the jumbo ask game]

[clefclefairy]

for that ask game 🔥 gimme your absolute pettiest pokemon opinion(s) i'm talking that shit that no one else has even thought about yet it Compels you 🔥

okay here goes. one of the broadest hot takes i have is: there IS no pokemon fandom, in a singular, unified sense. this is literally the most sprawling multimedia franchise conglomerate on the planet earth. i can literally spend tens of hours explaining glitch pokemon but if you ask me the basic rules of the TCG i will throw up and cry. I have played and finished literal dozens of Pokemon romhacks that have their own separate fandoms that will never be touched by 90% of the pokemon fanbase and that STILL gives them an audience of HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE. i havent played pokemon ranger for more than fifteen minutes. i can tell you about ADV OU and RBY OU and weather wars and aldarons proposal and etc etc etc but i only play VGC sparingly. pokemon masters is an entire separate continuity of lore that i refuse to touch bc i can't do gacha for my own sanity. i do still need to watch some story cutscenes, though. Pokemon collosseum and gale of darkness were incredibly important to the era of fandom i flourished as a BNF in; now they are like ancient, weathered scrolls in a language modern players do not speak.

a horrifying amount of 20 year olds only started during the DS era of games. there's an entire spate of time that, to me, is so crucial to my experience and embrace of pokemon that literally millions of people did not and can not experience in the same way. What does pokemon feel like to them? It can't feel the same way that it does to me. maybe that's true of everything. there are literal millions of pokemon go players who haven't touched a mainline game in 20 years or more. to say nothing of its own hideous vile wretched PVP meta. there are people who consider themselves pokemon fans and can only recognize like 500 of them. max. and yet they are pokemon fans, right? they enjoy the series? because after a certain point what can you ask of people? To be in this fandom is to grab at a few of Arceus' thousand arms and shape your universe therein. how can I even begin to understand this as a fandom when it's just this part of my life and has been almost since I was born? What about people who play Mystery Dungeon? What about Pokemon Conquest?

Also people were and are super fucking weird about Kieran, holy shit. This is a slightly less underdiscussed point but I was genuinely stunned by the amount of people calling him an incel or comparing him to a school shooter because, as related to my point above, i don't really participate in broader "pokemon fandom" because how can you? girl he is a 15 year old with an anxiety disorder and you stole his horse girl movie plot right out from underneath him. I think he's allowed to be a bit of a bitch about it! It is also really annoying that a satisfying conclusion to that plot was and is impossible because it would break away from one of Pokemon's core, integral mechanics, which is that Everything Important Is Yours. Is that mechanic as a core element worth discussing? I'd say so. Not even necessarily getting rid of, just reckoning with how it is going to inevitably leave certain plots frustrated because like. By all rights Kieran should've gotten Terapagos, right? Since we got Ogrepon? Parallels? And it would've felt a little less like I did just steal some kid's sacred relic slash autistic fixation if he also stole mine? And then I stop and think, does this feel that way to the children playing it?

I will never be a child playing Pokemon again. What does that change in perspective keep me from understanding now? What do I know and interpret and learn now from my experience of Pokemon that I couldn't possibly then? is it inevitably lesser? sometimes it feels that way. like the beats of my life are tied less tight to the Pokemon games I played and the Pokemon I cared for when I did. is that a bad thing? probably not. that's just life. but...do I miss it?

doesn't everyone?

[forffax]

returning the favor with oc asks since i always wanna hear about yours !! if you had to pick like your top 5 favorite characters who would they be and why 👀 bonus if you want to pick your favorite like settings/worlds/universes youve made for ocs too!

OOOUH thank u chase!!!

I'm gonna list out my favs then talk abt my main oc universe a bit ^_^

This got ridiculously long so it's going under a readmore <3

1. Tos Family (sorry this is going to be. the whole family bc I cannot possibly choose between them)

i. Lux Tos (he/him)

(realizing now i haven't drawn him in a hot fuckin minute)

MY DAD. guy of all time ever. everyone's favorite half-human time traveling alien war vet. it always feels weird referring 2 him as part alien even if it's technically true sdjfgs. fun lore fact: he was the Dead Older Brother in original iteration Zephyr's Sad Backstory but I liked him too much so I decided he got to live <3

Lux is one of my older ocs that I still actively draw and think abt (late middle school...) and he's changed a LOT over the years but he's so so so dear to me. my guy who has Seen the Horrors and is now happily gay married with a kid :') sdfkjsk most things abt his story is just me being So Incredibly Self Indulgent (cool powers, complicated sibling relationships, gay) but it makes me happy and I love sharing it with ppl! Someday Voided 2 will be real and ready to share with the world...

ii. Ferdinand Tos (he/him)

Dad....2!!!!!! I don't remember when exactly I thought him up but it was probably around when Lux's backstory was getting a major overhaul... He's a man out of time he's training to be a doctor and his will to live is so strong he spent the better part of nearly two decades building himself a new body! Guys who died but got better <3. I think I literally got brain blasted one day and decided he's a non-op trans man and it was the best thing ever for him actually. He's a southern californian stuck in the cold northwest (probably. either that or the northeast im not settled on that aspect yet skdjfs). He's been super fun to write from a worldbuilding perspective too bc his main goal is to pioneer a new branch of medicine using his powers! His relationship with Lux and the rest of the family (and his reconciliation with his sister) is sooooo important 2 me :]

iii. Athanasius Tos (she/her)

THANAAAAA most normal sibling (lie). She was adopted formally right after Lux "died" and had a bit of a complex about just being a "replacement" for a good while, and she THOUGHT she had worked through that when Lux suddenly re-appeared... they're on great terms now but it was Tense. She's a biochemist and probably makes the most out of the household (she shares an apartment with Zeph!) It's very important 2 me that she can let herself be vulnerable with her family and close friends after years of bottling everything up... Epic nerdy autistic butches in your area <3 Fun fact she is the only full human of the main cast!

iv. Zephyr Tos (she/him)

My fuckign auncle. Within the story she only recently realized he was bigender and is much happier for it, even if you couldn't tell by her permanent scowl skjdfgs. Zeph was the original protag (along with Thana) of the short story I wrote in middle school that turned into Voided 2! In-universe he was very clearly supposed to be the protag but missed/ignored the "call to action" phase and just got a shitton of Issues and Traumas instead <3 She's so everything 2 me he's a freelance writer/artist she's kinda cringe and he is trying only as hard as she absolutely needs to in order to get by. While his relationship with Lux is MUCH better than it was when Lux first came back, she's completely inseparable from Thana and would do anything for her (I feel like they spent equal times protecting each other from bullies as kids...) He's changed so much from her original incarnation but developing him has been SO much fun <3 Since Voided 2 runs on real-world time (in that I have specific real-world dates for most major events) she turned 50 fairly recently and that's fucked but also funny. old.

v. Alan Tos (any)

Alan! Love this kiddo. He's Lux and Ferdinand's adoptive kid! Xe doesn't learn about it for a while but she was a government secret experiment test-tube baby (they were trying to artificially fuse souls together, distantly related to the later Child Soldier School ze was placed into) (kid cannot catch a break). He's a good kid, if not a little clueless and naive... someone who would hold no ill-will if you had to cut their leg off (this is not a hypothetical GJSKDS). Somehow, despite all this, she is by far the most Normal out of xer family <3 His fashion sense is some kind of spectrum between 60s businesswoman and scene and tbh? Very fun to draw! Her friends and family are very very dear to them and at the moment xe's just kind of letting life take zem wherever.

2. Vague (it/they)

unauthorized fucking thing kill it with hammers NOW!!!!!

Vague started as I think just a proxy for myself in vent art I drew in like early high school sdhjfgds they have since become. something. my mascot I guess? (I still end up using it for vent art sometimes bc it's functionally unkillable and it's fun 2 get narsty sometimes.)

originally it was just the weird cat-shaped angel thing but a couple years ago I gave them a human design that I really love too <3 vague technically has a place in Niko and my other cat furry ocs' story but their human form exists in the real world and is just Like That i think. vague is just a little guy okay? they're sorry about crying and bleeding all over the place (not bc it sees any issue with this they just noticed you looked upsetskjdfhs)

3. Niko (he/they)

Baby's first fursona! Niko was always mostly his own character but now that I have new This is Just Me sona(s), they've been officially retired from that front <3 Niko's story is mostly planned out, I just desperately need to write it somewhere skjdbfs but the gist is that Niko works a shitty minimum wage call center job and finds meaning and love through forming a band with people he happens to meet... also there's some whistleblowing and betrayal and vague slams down out of the sky at some point <3 Niko's band doesn't have a name but they're the lead vocalist! (Niko 🤝 Blue (is blue and sings in their band)) This is a universe where everyone is cat furries simply bc I wanted to design lots of cat furries but also I haven't drawn like half of his bandmates/friends.... orz

Fun fact I found my original doodles of him in an old math notebook and apparently I seriously considered the name "chandler" for them. Help,

4. Larkspur (they/them)

Laaark my friend lark :] they're my player character for a friend's tabletop campaign! *hands you a bug* *hands you a bug* *hands-

Their design was super fun to come up with and they're fun to play as :] They were raised on a farm and have a deep love for animals (insects in particular), but they have a hard time connecting with others and understanding why people act the way they do.. They wear an eyepatch to cover their multiple other eyes bc it gives them bad sensory overload to see with them! They also spent quite a bit of time as a bounty hunter before they were blacklisted from further work bc they let a target escape on purpose... Lark is a ranger/bard and they play the hurdy-gurdy! They're dear to me and I really need to draw them more sjdfhgs

5. Chungy Fresh (she/he/they)

Chungy my belungy.... she's a mimic who spent most of his life being a chest in the temple of a forgotten goddess until they gained sentience and saw a fursuit from far away and decided yep! I'm gonna look like that Now <3 She didn't get all the details right but he's never been happier! I think Chungy spawned from me drawing a weird fox thing and simultaneously thinking "hey wouldn't it be funny if a character had a verbal text/forum signature and it was also their name" skdjfgjskdfls. Chungy is def up there with "most fun ocs of mine to draw" bc she's so Noodly and Malleable... I started playing as him in a friend group's tabletop oneshot thingy (where multiple ppl write different unrelated oneshots but we use the same characters for each session) and it has been a lot of fun!

OKAY OC UNIVERSE TIME. I call my main oc story "Voided 2" bc it takes place in the same universe as my v personal self insert oc story "Voided" that I have been working on/writing/thinking abt since late middle school... It's kinda vaguely modern fantasy/sci-fi? Main things are that there are beings born at the beginning of the universe made of pure energy called Lunoirs. There are countless universes, and each universe has Lunoirs in some capacity. They mainly exist to "keep the balance," but if you ask any specific Lunoir what that means you'll get a million different answers. Mainly they gravitate towards any life within their universe and integrate with them, observing them and protecting them from Shadows and Vacares. Shadows are the unliving souls that will eventually be reborn and reformed into a living soul inside any given universe-- they exist in the space between universes, called the Void. the Void looks different to any being that crosses into it, and it's hard to say what its "true" nature is. Vacares are Lunoirs that have had their souls corrupted and eaten, usually by other Vacares. While Shadows, being amalgamations of soul energy, are strictly neutral, Vacares seek to cause chaos and eat more Lunoir souls, increasing their numbers in a vain attempt to satisfy their endless hunger.

The Lunoir population on Earth is fairly numerous, and since Lunoirs can take on whatever form they choose, many of them live and love and have children with humans, making partial-lunoir children (physically they are nearly indistinguishable from full humans, save for longer lifespans, odd hair and eye colors, and sharper teeth. also they have semi-physical wings, but these have to be manually brought out and often ppl don't even know they have them (*cough* zephyr *cough*)

Lunoirs aren't fully immortal, but they have a different life cycle to most other forms of life. When a non-lunoir dies, their soul disintegrates and is amalgamated with the souls of others in the Void to become Shadows. When a Lunoir dies (outside of having their soul completely corrupted/destroyed), they instead go into a sort of stasis and are reborn later; they have no memories of their previous life (the ones on Earth don't, at least) and they can take on wildly different appearances.

Lunoirs and partial Lunoirs have powers in the form of energy manipulation, particularly when it comes to the energy of their own souls... They can use their souls to form weapons, mainly to fight against Vacares that tend to be immune to physical weapons. Most people have one weapon that they specialize in, but in a pinch nearly everyone can form a knife. Humans can manipulate their own soul energy in this way too, but this ability must be taught/"unlocked" by a Lunoir or a partial Lunoir first (Zephyr, at some point, did this for Thana without either of them realizing it). Lunoirs can also manipulate the energy of the very universe to create Rifts in time and space, sometimes leading between separate universes... These rifts also open of their own accord from time to time, and there's a good number of people who have been displaced from their time or even their universe by unwittingly falling into one.

Every living being has a "soul" (a collection of their life energy), and through a kind of "reaching out," one can feel/taste/smell/hear/see another's soul... every soul is a bit different, so this is an easy way to identify people even from a distance!

The Earth Lunoirs once had a country where they congregated called Saluria, which was the site of a brutal multi-year war against an army of Vacares that wanted reign over Earth... Many Lunoirs and partial Lunoirs across all of Earth's history felt drawn to Saluria, often willingly or unwillingly being rifted to the time of the war to go fight in it... Some partial Lunoirs especially believed it was their sacred duty, while others believed it was a curse leading them to inevitable death... there's even whispers that Saluria itself is alive, luring in young partial and full Lunoirs out of self-preservation.. who's to say. Ultimately, the Salurian War was a victory, but not an easy one.

Lux and Zephyr are half Lunoirs (their mom being full), and Ferdinand is 3/4ths Lunoir! Alan is a bit of a weird case but functionally he's also half Lunoir :]

This is v much simplifying Years of worldbuilding ssjhdfgjks and I can FEEL I missed a bunch of stuff but it's all very very dear 2 me :]

[potatoesandsunshine]

“Amazing,” he babbles, while the Ranger’s sticking him with a stimpak. “She was... she was amazing. Quiet like death, loud like angels are.”

What the hell that means, Cass isn’t sure, but religious types’ll say all sorts of things when they’re messed up like this. The poor kid.

The second one makes it to them ten minutes later, just as unsteady, and he can’t say a damn thing. Just shakes his head, squinting his eyes against the lantern.

The third one comes walking up the road at dawn, arm slung over the Courier.

She’s bloody all over, it’s crusting in her hair and splashed on her boots, and she doesn’t quite stumble under his weight until the medic’s getting the soldier laid down.

“How many Legion left down there?” the Ranger asks her, ready to move his people in.

She looks at him, first rays of the sun glinting off the new machete at her side, and Cass is at that spot between drunk and sober where metaphors seem like the thing to do. The Courier’s the sun itself, bright and white hot, grin gleaming when she tells him, “Not a damn one.”

(From "there's no end to this road (but it's alright)")

thank you so much!!!!!!!!!! small jobs time!!!!

“Amazing,” he babbles, while the Ranger’s sticking him with a stimpak. “She was... she was amazing. Quiet like death, loud like angels are.”

so what happened here was, i listened to chasing twisters by delta rae about fifty thousand times while writing this installment. the courier... her cathedral is the badlands. does this line make me wince a little bit in hindsight? yes, it reads a bit corny. but it is still precious to me because of how earnestly i thought i was Doing Something with it at the time.

What the hell that means, Cass isn’t sure, but religious types’ll say all sorts of things when they’re messed up like this. The poor kid.

i have about ten thousand questions about religion in fallout. we know they have the bible, we know somehow mormons still exist, there’s interesting stuff re: churches in fallout 3 & 4, but i need to know more. there’s a reason it only gets mentioned as something peripheral in small jobs - i don’t have time to figure out what i think about it! there's probably a great meta post about this on this website somewhere but i haven't seen it yet. this is also a nice moment of sympathy from cass; i think about her dialogue around the people you encounter in the wasteland a lot, and in my opinion she’s a lot more sympathetic to general human suffering than she’d really like to be. when i’m writing her, and this was especially true earlier in small jobs, it’s important that her kindness always be begrudging. 

She’s bloody all over, it’s crusting in her hair and splashed on her boots, and she doesn’t quite stumble under his weight until the medic’s getting the soldier laid down.

my notes in the margin of the paper outline were: COURIER LIVES, MOST BEAUTIFUL THING CASS HAS EVER SEEN. she probably should have had worse fluids on her, considering she went through nelson with a machete, but i wrote that line out for being too gross.

She looks at him, first rays of the sun glinting off the new machete at her side, and Cass is at that spot between drunk and sober where metaphors seem like the thing to do. 

i had to give her liberator, i love all the named weapons scattered throughout new vegas. i was also really pleased at an excuse to let how in love cass is bleed onto the page - she’s not ready for it to be real, but it is.

The Courier’s the sun itself, bright and white hot, grin gleaming when she tells him, “Not a damn one.”

yay! everybody cheer! but i also wanted to bring in the sun as a symbol because of how violent a thing it can be, especially in the desert! there's no end to this road (but it's alright) is peak ‘the courier sees herself as the weapon and not the wielder’, which is something i really enjoy gesturing at throughout all of small jobs. i’m playing dead money on her save right now and this theme is doing something to my brain.

thank you again!!! i love talking about this so much, small jobs is my very favorite thing to write and think about!!!