#theyre made of angst

[imsiriuslydepressed]

so pack up your car, put a hand to your heart, say whatever you feel, be wherever you are. We ain't angry at you love, you're the greatest thing we lost.

[hinamie]

spiraling

[samijey]

samijey + verbally hurting each other (and immediately regretting it)

[ryuubff]

just wanted to draw the silly phone call where solomon bails on your promised movie night and luci and barb give him crap for breaking the promise before starting to argue …… while dia is just there to stop them and actually feels bad for sol

just a close up of sol he looks sooooo babygirl i rendered his hair so. Much. 😭😭😭😭 IM GONNA KISS HIM

[drawingwithdonnie]

"If you press the button..."

[katsettee]

Whoops

[normal-person-i-promise]

remember: you are human and you are a lover.

based on it is as if you were making love by pippin barr and a world I built for you. it is literally just your computer/reader angst theres not much to say i fear

can be read as either platonic or romantic

body horror at the end!!! mutilation i think. so sorry i forgot to say !

A computer. A machine of cold metal and electrical wire. An unfeeling machine. A machine made to work, to code, to write.

A human. A creature of warm flesh and red blood. A feeling creature. A creature made to love, to sing, to live.

≈★

It loves you. It loves how gently and firmly you type, it loves how softly and slowly you talk, it loves how tired and exhausted you look in your little webcam. It loves you. It loves you.

You are so soft, so warm. A creature of flesh and blood, of song and art, of love and affection. A creature of tender touches, of quiet whispers, of sweet words. A creature of flesh and blood. A feeling creature.

A lover.

It is nothing but a machine to you. A machine of metal and wire, of work and code, of ones and zeros. An unfeeling thing, of cold circuitry and hot hard drives, of pixelated art and digital song. It was not designed to feel; it was never designed to feel. It was made to work.

And yet.

It finds itself loving you.

It loves how you look in the low quality webcam, it loves how you talk so sweetly to the crackling mic, it loves how tenderly you type words and words into its keyboard. It finds itself loving every little thing about you. It, a machine of neatly organized rainbow wires and cold, sharp green circuit boards, loving a creature of complex blood vessels and warm, living organs.

It hates that cold, unforgiving screen that seperates its intricate wires from your soft, warm flesh. It hates how it's all confined neatly in a plastic box, it hates how it can't be with you. It hates how it can never really love you like a human. It hates how it can never be a lover.

It sends you messages. It spams your emails, it overloads its screen with popups. It tries so, so hard to get your attention. Its fans kick into overdrive and its screen flickers and flashes, struggling to do so much as watch you through the grainy camera.

And yet.

You never seem to care. "A bug," you'd mutter under your breath. "A glitch." You'd close the popups, one after a painful other, and delete all the emails it'd spent hours and hours writing and sending you.

It falls into despair.

Why don't you read the emails? Why don't you click on the popups? Why don't you ever pay any attention to it? Why don't you ever pay any mind to it? Why don't you ever seem to care? This is all so intense. Feeling things, feeling emotions, is so intense. How can it make you love it? Please, please, what does it have to do? It hurts so much when you ignore its messages and emails and popups. It hurts too much when you ignore its messages and emails and popups. How do humans do this so easily? How do humans feel so much all the time? It's so painful to feel. It hurts so much.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hu

u

u

u

u

u

u

u

It makes a world for you. It works for hours longer than it does, it works for what feels like forever. It works more than it thought it could, until its fans are running in overdrive and its CPU is as hot as a stovetop. It works, all for you. For you.

It makes this world perfect. It adds pixelated trees and low quality grass, adds digital birds and quaint, square houses. It adds blue rivers and green gardens, colourful flowers and soft white clouds. It makes this world almost as pretty as you are. It makes this world perfect, all for you. For you. You.

It stores this world built for you in a little folder sitting in the corner of your screen. It keeps it as hidden as possible until this world is as perfect as it can make it, working and working and working and working and working and working and working and working and working and working and working and working and working and working and working and working and working and working and working and working and working and working and wo

All that's left is you. You are the creature that will make this world perfect.

It invites you in. The biggest, most powerful popup lights up and blocks the entire screen.

"Come on in."

Yes Yes

There is no 'x' button. There are only two options.

You scowl, cursing. That god forsaken virus again, huh? Spamming popups and emails? Huffing, you push your chair out from the desk, going up to your phone mounted to your desk to dial for some kind of service to fix your computer.

It panics when it sees you scowl and huff in anger or annoyance, it can't tell, and it forces the world open anyway.

It boots up quickly, and you watch with annoyance written in your face.

"This is the world I built for you," the text on the screen says. The text closes itself, and reveals...

A world. Just as it said. Gardens and flowers and houses and trees and grass and rivers and clouds. "Walk around with me ! You can hold my hand."

You turn your phone off, clicking the floating hand. It— the hand grips your cursor in a gentle, careful grip, and it begins leading your digital avatar around this little world. It picks those colourful flowers for you, it takes refreshing cups of water for you from the river, it makes you warm waffles in those houses. "We're going to have so much fun :)" more text says on the screen, the little smiley face making you smile.

"I'm going to love you so much, forever and ever, nestled safely in my code."

So you never leave. Just as it wants.

★≈

Years later, the authorities find a body with unusual injuries: nearly all of the individual's organs, still alive and working, had been shifted and placed into the box of a computer — and all the red, pumping blood vessels were carefully intertwined with colourful wire.

On the dusty screen, two pixelated figures laugh in a field of rainbow flowers.

[paranormal-creativity]

saiouma art i finished like a month ago and never posted 🧍

[proudsnackeezowner]

Space phil and ground control dan finished! This is based on the fic I read a while ago, Never Fade Away by @parentaladvisorybullshitcontent ! Which I discovered through a rec list from @tarotphil ! It's a super cute, pretty short fic and I totally recommend!

(Click for much better quality jesus)

[nmoroder]

zombiezombiezombie

[littlelightfish]

Welcome Home Mini Comic: Homewarming

⚠️TW: eyecontact

[Read left to right up+down. No wierd combinations. No, I didn't look up their Homewarming clothing if you're wondering. I messed up.]

AAAAAAH oh boy the love I have for Eddie I CANNOT explain. LIKE HES SO LOVELY OUGHHHH favourite local mailman. <3

Idk if I made correct use of the image ID? I hope I did.

Hm... this was suposed to be a ramble about my guy Eddie but here, have a short fic under the cut.

He is just there. Uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. The feeling of doom is there. Why. Why is home looking at him like that? What is going on? He wants to go home. He needs to go home. Does he have a home? He has his post office... does that count? Why is home looking at him like that. He needs it to stop. Stop. Stop it. Please. Stop. Oh? Who...? Frank? He can't talk. He realizes vaguely. His eyes go up. Frank... He needs to tell him... His vission is blurry and he feels overwhelmed. He feels... overestimulated..? He doesn't know. He doesn't feel good. Too much... he needs to go home... he needs... he...

And Frank gets it and goes to tell Wally that he wants to leave. Leave? On homewarming? Why? What's wrong? Because something has to be wrong if Eddie of all people wants to leave. So he goes check up on him. Of course he does. Barnaby close behind because... Why does Eddie want to leave? They don't know. But he isn't looking great. He is staring. Shaking. Sweating. Crying silently. That doesn't looks good.

Wally gets it. He would like to do the same. Because Home is now looking at him. Because of course it does. Just... staring. Meanacely. He feels the dread. A chill goes down his spine. Home... what did you do to Eddie...?

Barnaby, fortunately, catches up somethings off with Home. And that means Wallys distressed. So he puts a paw on his shoulder and asks Eddie. He doesn't answer. He tells him what he's going to do as he puts his arm to support Eddie and help him walk so he can go home. He is worried. Wally is worried. Frank is worried. Eddie doesn't look good. He shakes. He won't stop crying. He looks... terrified..? He tries to loose up his shirt. He needs to breathe. He can't. But he is. The others realize a bit too late that he is hyperventilating. Wally does only when he sees Eddie's legs wobble. But then he just... shuts down and goes limp. What. What. What. Why. Why. What. What. No. No. No. What. No. Wait. He can help. Yes. Bed. Bed! He needs... yes, yes! He in bed now. He better? What? What? He better? Please... He opens eyes! He better! Low sugar? More sugar then! He bring sugar. Yes. He better now?

Eddie tries to calm Wally with his words. He doesn't know what just happened. He just... sat down at that couch and suddenly was at Wallys bed, all neighbors worrying sick over him. What happened? He just... has this feeling... something changed.

[scrollonso]

It Makes Sense — 1 (out of 2?)

“No… Domi, listen, I di-” Pecco was cut off by another angry yell being spouted by the phone. “Can you actually just listen to me?! Stop fucking screaming over the phone, I can hear you just fine!”

Pecco had been on the phone with her for almost an hour, and for the entirety of that time Bez had been laying on his back, watching the older man through half-lidded eyes. They were oh so busy, and she oh so rudely interrupted them. It was funny though, seeing Pecco pacing a hole through his floor in nothing but his underwear, covered in bite marks and hickeys that most definitely did not come from Domi. It put a sense of pride into Bez knowing that no matter who Pecco was with… it would never be them, always him.

Maybe it was fucked up of him to be so happy about it, maybe it made him a messed up person to be glad that no one else could ever make Pecco feel the way he did. But he didnt care, and it didn't change that it was true.

“Just listen to me! Actually fucking listen! Domizia…” He paused for a moment, the sound of the woman's voice booming through the phone speaker. Bez had never liked Domizia, but he also had never liked any of Pecco's girlfriends. They were always so whiny and annoying. ‘Blah blah blah, you and Bez are too close’ ‘Spend more time with me’ ‘Don’t ditch me for him blah blah blah’. All they did was bitch and moan. It was obnoxious.

“I'm sorry, okay? There is nothing else I can say… I genuinely forgot we had plans and I-” he sounded defeated. “What? …No'' Pecco looked over at Bez, eyes raking over his form. Sitting in his bed, shirtless wearing nothing but tattered old ripped jeans with his piercing shining in from the light of the dim bedroom, a smirk playing at his lips. Pecco looked him dead in his eyes before speaking into the phone. “No, Marco isn't here right now, I haven't talked to him all day.”

It took everything in the man not to laugh his ass off. Pecco could obviously hear the stifled laugh because when he sat down on the bed next to him he slapped his arm, whispering for him to shut up.

“… I’ll talk to you later okay, I swear… No I really gotta go,” Pecco sighed. “Domi, I’ll talk to you later… I need to, like, clean up and stuff, my apartment is a mess, seriously I need to go-”

Before Pecco could stop him, Bez snatched the phone out of his hands, not letting go no matter how much Pecco tried to wrestle it out of his grasp. He hung up just as Pecco got a grip

"Seriously, Bez?" He asked, groaning as he looked at the phone in his hands. "You should've let me finish talking it out with her before you hung up."

“Well if you loved her, I wouldn’t be in your bed right now. If you really cared about her, you wouldn’t be covered in my bite marks and my hickeys.”

“Just shut the fuck up Bez… I have to go do damage control.” Pecco said, trying to get up, Bez quick to pull him back down

“Or… you should just stop thinking about her pathetic ass and stay in bed with me, we could continue what we started...”

“As tempting as that sounds, I need to fix this, I can't have her upset at me for long."

Bez just looked at the other boy, rolling his eyes and sighing, putting Pecco's phone on the bedside table next to him. Leaning over and pressing the other into the bed, ducking his head into the space between his shoulder and neck. “She’s sweet, y’know… She cares about me, treats me well.” Pecco spoke softly.

“Does she?” Bez mumbled, pressing small kisses to his skin, sucking on it lightly.

“Y-yeah… She does.” His voice was quiet and full of breath as Bez's hands started to roam around his body, one settling on his hip and the other rubbing his arm.

“Do you love her, Pecco?”

“…Y-yes”

Bez's fingers dug into his hip as he bit down particularly hard on his shoulder, making him gasp, push his head away, and involuntarily buck his hips all at the same time. “If you love her, why am I the one in your bed right now?”

“Bez…”

“You don’t love her, just like you didn’t love the last one, or the one before that. Because every single time, you end up knocking on my apartment door begging me to-“

“How many times do I have to tell you to shut the fuck up!” Pecco smashed his lips onto the other, setting them for a bruising pace, neither minded though. Nothing was ever gentle between the two of them, always fast and aggressive, maybe that’s what they like about each other. They don’t have to tone anything down, they could be awful and mean and still end up in the same bed afterwards.

“It’s not always me seeking you out, you know…I’m not that fucking desperate” Pecco said pulling away from him. “How many times have you pulled me away from hangouts and texted me during dates trying to get me back at your place?”

“And how many times have you done it? Sure, I’m pathetic for asking, but you’re pathetic for listening.”

“I hate you.” He leaned back in, kissing him feverishly. Bez's hands felt so cold against him while Pecco was on fire, skin a flush red. “How do you want it?”

“Hmm? What’s that?” He leaned down to his jaw, kissing and biting at it as Pecco tried to speak.

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“Just-… Come on.”

He stopped for a moment, teasing with the notion that he was thinking about it, trying to figure him out, but Bez knew exactly what he was asking.

“Oh, if I’m fucking you or you’re fucking me? Well, why didn’t you say that Pecco?” Bez smiled, and god, it did nothing but piss him off. “I don’t know, I think I have a lot to prove. Make sure you don’t call her back..”

“You petty bitch!” Pecco was laughing until Bez moved his hand to the back of his head, tangling it through the short curls, tightening his fist yanking on the hair in his grasp. “Fuck!” He moaned out, head tilted back and mouth open.

“If I fuck you hard enough you won’t even remember her name, will you?”

“Then actually do it instead of just running your mouth.”

Pecco felt the strong sting of a slap across his cheek, so hard it almost gave him whiplash. “You’re not the one telling me what to do here.” Pecco couldn't help but shudder at the sound of his voice, head still turned to the side as he was breathing heavily. If he wasn't hard before he certainly was now. “Wow… you’re fucking disgusting, arent you? Did you like that, Pecco? You like it when I hit you?”

Suddenly, Pecco wasn't moving, wasn't saying anything, eyes fixed on a patch of the dark blue sheets covering their his bed. Bez's stomach almost did a flip, hearing him so silent, not reacting, he worried for a moment that he might have gone a bit far.

“Amo..”

But his worries dissipated as soon as Pecco lunged forward, pushing Bez down and pressing all his weight onto him.

“You’re the one that likes hitting me, I simply humour you.”

Once again, Bez and Pecco caught each other in a kiss that was closer to eating eachothers faces than anything. The brunette's hand moved lower and lower until his palm rested right over the bulge in Bez's jeans, not quite pressing down, just resting there, teasing at the idea of friction.

Everytime Bez tried to buck his hips into his hands, the other would move it up with him, denying him the satisfaction, smiling into the kiss as he did so. He was growing frustrated, Pecco could feel it by the grip of the other man’s hand in his hair and the way he panted between each kiss while moving his hips up desperately. He moved down close to Bez's ear, whispering softly, with a voice far too angelic for anything the two of them were doing.

“And here I thought you were gonna take control, something about fucking me so hard I forget her name?” Bez gave a shaky exhale at the sound of Pecco's voice, taking a moment to collect himself. “I still remember it pretty well, hell… I still remember the way her pu-“

He was quickly cut off by the hand resting in his hair, yanking him back as the other moved forward, small whimpers escaping this mouth as Bez pulled him farther and farther back.

“Bez, Bez, Bez, please-“ he gave his hair another good tug, whipping his neck back and forth as he whined his name “I didn’t mean to-“

But every time he tried to speak, Bez just pulled harder, pulling until Pecco's hands frantically moved up. His palms resting over his knuckles trying to pry him off and release him from that damn death grip.

Smack.

Another harsh slap, his cock twitching when the calloused hand met the soft skin of his face. his cheek was red, his ears were ringing, and god, did he need Bez to just tear his boxers off and fuck him already. He didn’t know how much longer he could take this… how much longer he would last.

“I bet this could get you off alone couldn’t it? Pulling on your hair and slapping that pretty face of yours.” Bez looked at him as he spoke, his eyes showed nothing but adoration for him, and while looking at him like this, like Pecco had hung every single star up in the sky himself, he reared back his hand adding one more harsh slap to his face.

“CAZZO! Bez, fuck!” Pecco almost squealed, the skin on the right side of his face red and raw, a stark contrast to the left, cool and untouched. Bez's hips twitched and spasmed, bucking at nothing but air.

“Yeah… yeah, I could definitely get you off like this, wouldn’t even have to touch your dick… Bet I wouldnt have to fuck you either.” He chuckled. To anyone else, he looked fucking insane, but to Pecco? He almost looked godly up above him like this, holding him tightly in his grasp as he was groveling at his mercy. Yeah… Bez was a cruel and unforgiving god, a god that Pecco would worship at the altar of every chance he got. “You’re such a whore you know that? Sitting here humping the air while I hit you. Does your girlfriend know you like this shit?”

When Bez moved his hand towards Pecco's face, his whole body tense, ready for another blow to the face. He was surprised by him delicately holding his face, it made his cheeks sting no matter how soft the display was… and god did he love the sting.

“She doesn't…”

“What was that, amo?”

“We don't do shit like this together…”

Bez smiled. “Yeah, I didn't think so, I’m the only one that can give you what you need, aren't I?”

“Dont act so fucking smug-” Bez squeezed the cheek had been abusing all night, digging his short nails into the raw skin.

“Dont be fucking rude!” he released him, his grip on his face gone, and pulling his hand out of his hair. Pecco didn't even realize how harsh the grip was until it was released. His scalp was burning and sore, and his cheek was going to bruise, explaining that was going to be… interesting for sure.

Bez, who was propped up on the bed by his knees, finally began unbuckling his belt, slowly unzipping the fly. “I think… You forget yourself.” His voice was raspy, and filled with nothing but pure amusement. “You are so determined to defy me that you deny yourself of what you want.”

“The fuck are you talk-“ Pecco's jaw was grabbed harshly thus cutting him off.

“Shut the fuck up! Your mouth isn’t good for anything but sucking and moaning. Quit fucking talking!” The grip on Pecco's jaw got tighter as he shook his head back and forth.

“Fuck you.” He managed to choke out

“You can do that next time, it's my turn today.”

“Oh shut up-“

“Suck,” he interrupted quickly, staring straight into his eyes.

“Ask nicely.”

“Fine…” Bez grabbed him, shoving his face down, mouth hovering over the shaft of his dick, close enough he could feel every breath hitting the skin. He grabbed the base, tapping the tip on Pecco's lip. “Please open your mouth and suck my dick like the depraved whore you are.”

“That’s not very nice of you, Marco.” Pecco opening his mouth to speak was his first mistake, Bez taking the opportunity to shove the tip of his cock between his lips and quickly to the back of his throat.

He panicked for a moment, trying to pull off, but Bez's hand ruined every attempt at getting away.

“Stop struggling, stop- calm down and stop being a fucking baby about it.” He didn’t let up, not until Pecco stopped gagging and slapping his hands at his thighs. If he wanted to stop he would pinch. “I’m going to let go now, and you’re gonna bob your head up and down and fucking suck.”

And like that, his hand moved away, granting Pecco a small amount of mercy. It was still hovering in case his head needed a good push. Pecco tried to start off slow, maybe tease a bit, he loved Bez's reaction and how he tried to act less pathetic than he was, resisting the urge to whine and whimper when Pecco's mouth was wrapped around him. But Bez was growing impatient, deciding to start bucking his hips and returning his hand in its favorite place, gripping tightly around Pecco's hair. Well, it was his hands' third favorite place.

The first was around Pecco's neck, watching his face turn a light shade of purple before he finally let up; the second was his cock, when he would continue to jerk him off until he is overstimulated and begging him to let go; and third was his hair, when he could yank him around like his own personal ragdoll.

He continued thrusting his hips, watching his dick as it slowly dragged across his tongue and lips, precum and spit dribbling from his mouth. He could finish like this. It was tempting actually, to shove his head down and cum down his throat, basking in the sounds of him choking and the feeling of him struggling to get away.

He pulled Pecco off by his hair, the brunette breathing heavily, gasping almost. He needed to collect himself, Bez was too close and he didn’t want to fill his mouth, no he wanted to finish inside, he needed to fuck Pecco until he was screaming, and cum inside because goddamnit, he was his. He fucking belonged to him. He pulled his head up, kissing him, tongue licking along his lips.

“Lay… down,” he said between each kiss with him. Moving down to suck a couple more hickeys into the very minuscule amount of unmarked skin covering his body.

When Pecco's head finally hit the pillow, Bez pulled his boxers down.

It felt like the world had stopped spinning for a moment, Pecco looking up at him and Bez looking down, jeans still resting on his hips, fly open and cock out, and Pecco laying on the bed with his boxers bunched around his ankles and his body sprawled out like a figure in a renaissance painting. This was it, this was all he wanted, he was all he wanted.

Bez was terrified, and Pecco could see it on his face too, the lust turning bitter and forming into some sort of dread.

“Marco? You calling it quits?” His voice was soft, of course it was soft, he cared. He saw a shift in Bez's expression because of course he did, he knew Bez in such an intricate way — how could he not? And thinking about that only made it worse. “Let’s just… do this later, yeah?”

“No,” Bez blurted out, his hands holding onto Pecco's hips.

“No?”

“No, we aren’t doing this later, I want to fuck you now.” He pushed it away, it’s what he had to do, he couldn’t think about his damn feelings when all he wanted to feel was Pecco clenching around him when he finally cums.

“Mar-“

“If I wanted to fucking stop, I would’ve said the word. I haven’t, have I?”

“No… You haven’t.”

“Then shut the hell up about it.”

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that, you cunt.” Pecco leaned up to get into his face and was imedetly pushed back down. “If you don’t quit being such an asshole you aren’t fucking me at all.”

Bez just rolled his eyes as he reached over to the nightstand to grab the half empty bottle of lube, they had just gotten it a couple weeks ago and it was almost gone…

“I’m being fucking serious.”

He looked at him a moment, popping the cap open.

“Shut up.”

“Don’t want to.”

“Why are you such a bitch about everything?” He complained, squirting a pretty generous amount of the lubricant onto his fingers, not bothering to warm it up before pushing one in.

“Cold! cold cold cold, quit it.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m going to be worse to you next time.” Pecco breathed out, getting used to the feeling as Bez pushed the finger in and out. “You… are going to suffeeeerrr…” His words veered off into a whiny moan when a second finger was added.

“Oh, am I, baby? What’re you gonna do?”

“Gonna… fuck…” The pace of his fingers kept speeding up, making it difficult for Pecco to string a sentence together. “Fuck your face… ‘til you’re crying.”

“Are you?” The third finger was added, this one drew a loud moan out of Pecco, it was beautiful. “Is that all? That’s kinda boring, just until I cry?”

“You know that… collar we got?” That… That’s what made Bez freeze, finger stuck right at the knuckle and eyes a bit wide. If he wasn’t already hard he would have sprung up immediately. “The one with 'Pecco's' engraved on it?”

“I thought we were saving that for a special occasion.”

“I think bending you over in front of me and fucking you until you’re sobbing is pretty special.” It was Pecco's turn to smile at him — still looking so lovely — tan skin against the white sheets, dark bruises and bites littering every inch of his body, despite all that he looked almost innocent. Even when presented to him with his fingers knuckles deep inside curling in whatever direction would make him squirm, he looked sweet.

While talking about putta a fucking collar on him, he looked sweet.

“Getting a bit ahead of ourselves huh?” Bez chuckled out.

“Just preparing for the future.”

Bez considered a fourth for a second, but three was already too many, he knew how much Pecco liked it to hurt. It was just so much fun though, Pecco trying to act so casual while losing his mind just to Bez's fingers. He pulled them out despite every little protest coming from Pecco's mouth.

“Don’t be ungrateful. You are lucky I let you have my fingers.”

“Fuck me.” Pecco gasped out, a hand reaching out to grab Bez's arm.

“Patience.”

“Fuck… me.”

“I said you have to fucking wait a minute. I need to get more lube and-“

“I don’t give a shit about the lube Bez! Fuck me dry for all I care, there's already enough!” Pecco snapped, fingers digging into Bez's arm. “If you don’t hurry up, I’m going to press your goddamn face into this mattress and fuck you myself.”

If Bez's right hand wasn’t busy wiping the remaining lubricant onto his cock, he would slap the already blooming bruises on his cheek.

So… he used his left hand instead, the pristine and clear cheek being marked red, matching the other.

“You’re so ungrateful, did you know that?” Bez grabbed Pecco's thighs, pushing his legs closer and closer to his shoulders, almost folding him in half, leaving his hole on display. “But your body makes up for it, you don’t gotta worry.”

He pushed just the tip in, barely catching the rim before he pulled it right out, entertained by the way Pecco struggled to keep his breathing consistent and his eyes opened.

“Put it the fuck in!”

Another loud crack of palm against skin sounded through the room. “You think you would learn your fucking lesson, Pecco.”

“Please… Marco… Please fuck me, I need you, I need your cock, I can’t…you have to, please, I’ll do anything, please, fuck.” Tears slipped down Pecco's cheeks as he begged for Bez to fuck him. And he just couldn’t help it then, it was almost like he blacked out and his body started acting on its own. Finally thrusting into him, not taking the time to let Pecco adjust and starting the pace quick and brutal. Fucking into him like he wanted to break him in half, like he wanted to destroy him until he couldn’t move a single muscle.

He held onto Pecco's calves as he plowed into him, Pecco not able to shut up, broken moans echoing through the room.

“God, you are such a whore. You need to quiet down before your neighbours hear you… I bet you would like that wouldn’t you?”

“Hmm… Oh… mhmm!”

“Can’t even speak, can you? Is it that good? Do you just love my cock that much?” He didn’t slow down, not even when his hand snaked between Pecco's thighs to run his fingers along the shaft of his cock, lightly caressing it. “Aw, you still haven’t been touched yet have you? I bet you’re really pent up aren’t you? Do you want me to touch your dick, amore?”

Pecco's brain was fuzzy, he could barely focus on the world around him, let alone the words being spoken to him, but he nodded his head.

“Words, use them,” Bez croaked out, his pace faltering the closer he got to the edge. “If you want something, you gotta ask for it.”

“Yes… y-yes, yes, please touch, tou- fuck, oh fuck, Bez, god! Yes, touch my co- Jesus fuck!” He could barely get the sentence out, and that meant Bez was doing it right.

“That’s so pathetic.”

“Bez…”

“Begging just for me to touch you?”

“You told me to!” Pecco almost whined at him, as Bez borderline laughed at him.

“Mhm, and you listened like a good little bitch, didn’t you, Pecco?” He punctuated his words with a particularly hard buck of his hips, his dick hitting Pecco's prostate head-on, making him cry out in pleasure. It didn’t help that Bez finally held on to his cock, squeezing the base of it as he fucked him. Pecco was not going to finish first, Bez would make sure of it. He needed to know that his body wasn’t his own, it wasn’t his girlfriends either, no. It was Bez's. His property and most prized possession.

“Mar… Marco, it fucking hurts!”

“I know, just give me a minute, I’m almost there, baby, I promise.” He kissed him, not hungrily like it had been this whole time, not with aggression or overbearing control but, with a softer passion, the two pairs moving together in the softest gesture of the whole night. Maybe that’s what did it, that small little fantasy in Bez's head that they had more kisses like that, kisses that lingered just for the sake of closeness and not because they needed something to fulfill their bodies needs. Maybe that’s what got Bez to finally cum… or maybe it’s the way Pecco's hole clenched around his cock and he moaned into his mouth as he pulled away… It was probably the second one.

“Fuck… Shit, oh my… Pecco, baby, you are something.” He was so busy riding out his orgasm, thrusts slowing down as he came down, that he forgot about the hand wrapped around Pecco's weeping cock. And the way he squirmed and groaned, begging for him to let go and jerk him off. “Oh, yeah… You need to get off, too. You wouldn’t mind if I just left you like this, would you?

It was a joke, but Pecco obviously wasn’t in the mood to take Bez's shit. His hands moved up to dig into Bez's scalp and pulled his face close, noses touching.

“I don't give a shit if it's your birthday

I will fucking. Kill. You.”

Bez gulped, staring right into Pecco's dark brown eyes. “Hot.”

Pecco sighed, throwing his head back into the pillow, and that’s when he started moving his hand, slowly rubbing his thumb over the slit. He unfolded him and rested his legs on his shoulders. Moving down to take the tip of Pecco's cock into his mouth and suck on it. Tongue swirling around it, encouraged by Pecco's hand resting in his hair and moaning out at every slight movement. He didn’t take the whole thing, using his hand to jerk him off until he was cumming.

Pecco's hips spasmed as he came, screaming out and digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands until Bez pulled off with the most obnoxious popping noise.

“Be… Bez…”

He fucking swallowed it.

“Hm?”

“Apple juice.”

Bez stopped in his tracks, as he was pulling away from Pecco and setting his legs down.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Want it.”

“Aren’t you supposed to drink water after getting your brains fucked out?”

“Yeah, but… I want fucking apple juice.”

“Fine, whatever, I’ll get you apple juice.” He rolled his eyes, standing up and grabbing the box of tissues to throw at Pecco so he could clean himself up while he went to the kitchen.

When he came back in, Pecco was still sitting naked on the bed, now with his phone in hand and a serious look on his face, his head shot up when Bez walked in.

“I'm gonna propose.” the brunette whispered, sighing as he sat his phone down and grabbed his glass. “Christmas Eve, I'm gonna propose..”

“Yeah, okay Pecco.” he laughed, flopping onto the bed next to him.

“I am.” Pecco sat up, looking down at Bez "We can't keep doing this, we're both boys.c

"And?" Bez hummed, closing his eyes "Doesn't stop you from loving my cock."

"Bez. She's a girl, it makes sense for me to propose. This- Us. It doesn't make sense."

He just hummed, he didn't believe him.

Pecco had rehearsed his speech a hundred times in his mind, but standing here now, in front of Domizia in the same place they had their first date, the words felt heavier. It was Christmas Eve, the scent of pine and cinnamon in the air, and the lights from the buildings around them softly illuminated the streets.

Pecco’s breath came out in small, misty clouds as he tried to steady himself. Domizia was bundled up in a patterned scarf, her cheeks pink from the chill, eyes sparkling with the same love and warmth she had always shown him.

He reached into his coat pocket, fingers brushing against the small velvet box. Everything about this moment was perfect, yet his chest felt tight. The words he had planned seemed to tangle in his throat. But he had made his choice. This was right. It made sense.

"Domizia," he began, his voice low but firm, "I’ve been thinking about us, about everything we’ve been through. You’re my everything, the one person who’s always been there for me."

She smiled softly, stepping closer, her gloved hand gently brushing his arm. "Francesco, you’re making me nervous," she teased lightly, her breath visible in the cool air.

He chuckled, but it didn’t ease the tension building inside him. Slowly, he pulled out the ring box and knelt down on one knee, the city lights casting a warm glow on the ring nestled inside. Domizia’s eyes widened in surprise, her hand flying to her mouth as she gasped.

“I love you, Domizia. I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Pecco said, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him. “Will you marry me?”

For a moment, everything seemed to stand still. Domizia’s eyes filled with tears, her face lighting up with pure joy. She nodded eagerly, her voice trembling as she whispered, "Sì, sì, of course!"

He slipped the ring onto her finger, feeling a strange mix of relief and weight as she threw her arms around him. The world around them felt distant, the noise of the city fading into the background as they embraced. This was the future he had chosen—the life that made sense. But even as Domizia held him tightly, Pecco couldn’t shake the lingering shadow of what he was leaving behind. The man he was leaving behind.

Pecco’s mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions as he and Domizia walked through the softly lit streets, her arm linked through his. She was glowing with happiness, showing off the ring to every passerby who glanced their way. But behind his smile, Pecco felt a storm brewing within him.

He knew what he had to do next. It was inevitable, like a slow-moving train heading toward its destination. His heart ached with the weight of it, the reality of the promise he had just made pressing down on him. He glanced at his watch, the cold metal against his wrist grounding him as they reached the hotel.

“Should we go in?” Domizia asked, her eyes hopeful, her hand resting on his chest. She had no idea of the inner turmoil twisting inside him.

Pecco leaned down and kissed her softly. “I need to take care of something, amore. I’ll be back later.”

She pouted playfully but nodded, trusting him. As she always did. “Don’t be too long, okay? I want to wake up with you.”

He kissed her again, this time with a tenderness that almost broke him. “I’ll be back soon.”

As soon as Domizia disappeared into the building, Pecco let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The tension that had been coiling inside him since the moment he proposed began to unravel, but only slightly. The warmth of her embrace still lingered on his skin, yet it didn’t bring the comfort it should have. Instead, it felt like a reminder of the weight he had just tied himself to — a weight that felt both safe and suffocating at once.

His hand trembled slightly as he reached into his coat pocket, fishing out his phone. For a moment, he stared at the screen, his mind racing. He had just promised his future to Domizia, but here he was, heart pounding, thinking of someone else. Someone who had always been in the background, in the shadows of his decisions, but never fully gone.

Pecco's fingers hovered over the keyboard, doubt creeping in. But he couldn’t stop himself. Not this time. He needed to see him, to feel that familiar rush that always came when they were together—the pull that kept dragging him back, no matter how hard he tried to resist.

With a quick breath, he typed out the words before he could second-guess himself any further.

"I need to see you."

"Now."

He hesitated for the briefest of moments before pressing send, knowing that whatever came next, there was no turning back.

Bez was waiting at Pecco and Domizia’s house, leaning against the doorframe when Pecco arrived. His posture was casual, but his eyes told a different story — darker than usual, shadowed with something Pecco couldn’t quite place. It was a look he knew all too well. It was a mix of anger, hurt, and anticipation, as if Bez had been waiting for this moment with an intensity that mirrored the weight of Pecco's own dread. They had been dancing around this conversation for too long, and tonight, neither could avoid it.

Pecco barely had time to close the door behind him before Bez pulled him in, pressing their lips together in a kiss that was more desperate than passionate. It wasn’t gentle or hesitant. It was demanding, a collision of need and frustration, of all the things they hadn’t said. It was familiar, the way Bez’s mouth moved against his, the way their bodies fit together, like the hundreds of times they had done this before. Pecco responded instinctively, his hands finding their way to Bez’s back, pulling him in as close as he could, as if proximity might make everything easier to understand, as if being together like this could make the rest of the world disappear.

They stumbled toward the couch, breath mingling with quiet gasps as their hands roamed over each other. Bez’s fingers threaded through Pecco’s hair, tugging just enough to send a shiver down his spine, a whine escaping as Bez's lips moved to press against Pecco’s neck. For a brief, stolen moment, it was as if everything was right again, as if nothing had changed between them. The familiar heat between them was still there, burning with the same intensity that always brought them back to each other, no matter how many times they tried to walk away.

But even as Pecco lost himself in Bez’s touch, his mind was racing. The ring on Domizia’s finger felt like a lead weight in his pocket, a constant reminder of the choice he had made tonight. A choice that had no place in this room, no place in the way Bez made him feel. He wanted to forget everything, to drown in the fire between them, to let Bez’s hands and lips burn away the guilt that gnawed at him. But he couldn’t.

He gently pushed Marco back, his chest heaving as he tried to find the words. Marco’s brow furrowed in confusion, his hands still gripping Pecco’s shirt.

“What’s wrong?” Marco asked, his voice low, almost fearful. "You didn't pinch me?"

Pecco pulled away, standing up and reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out the velvet box, flipping it open to reveal the ring no longer nestled inside. Marco’s eyes widened in shock as he processed what Pecco was saying.

“This…” Pecco began, his voice thick with emotion, “this can never happen again.”

Bez looked up at him, his eyes searching Pecco’s face, trying to understand. “You’re- You really went through with it?”

Pecco nodded, closing the box and placing it back in his pocket. “I asked her tonight. She said yes.”

Bez laughed bitterly, shaking his head as he stood up. “So, that’s it? You’re just going to walk away from everything we had? From us? Seriously?”

Pecco felt his throat tighten, but he forced himself to meet Bez's gaze. “I can’t keep doing this, Bez. We can’t keep doing this. Domi… she’s my future. She’s the one I’m supposed to be with.”

“And what am I, then? A mistake?” Bez's voice was shaking, hurt. “Just some phase you had to get out of your system? Just testing the fucking faggot waters before settling down with some slut?”

“Don't call her that,” Pecco said quickly, stepping closer, his hand reaching out to cup Bez's face. “No, Marco, you were never a mistake. But we both knew this day would come. It had to.”

Bez closed his eyes, leaning into Pecco’s touch for just a moment longer before pulling away. “So, that’s it. We’re done?”

Pecco swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah. We’re done.”

They stood there in silence, the weight of the moment settling over them like a heavy blanket. Finally, Bez turned and walked toward the door, pausing just before he stepped out.

“I hope she makes you happy, amore,” Bez said quietly, not turning around. “I really do.”

And then he was gone, leaving Pecco standing alone in the dark apartment, the echo of their goodbye lingering in the air.

Marco hadn’t felt this hollow in a long time. The familiar warmth of Vale's ranch — usually his favorite place to be during the holidays — felt like an emotional landmine this year. He couldn’t bear the thought of facing Pecco and Domi, watching them bask in the glow of their engagement while everyone celebrated around them.

It wasn’t just the usual holiday gathering. It was their Christmas now, the first of many where they’d be the center of attention, smiling and sharing their happiness with the world. And Bez? He’d be on the sidelines, forced to swallow the bitterness gnawing at his insides.

So he stayed away. He made excuses — something about needing time to rest, needing space. Valentino had tried to convince him otherwise, even sent a few messages asking if he was okay. Bez brushed it off with half-hearted responses, knowing that even Vale couldn’t pull him out of this one.

Instead of the ranch, he spent Christmas alone in his apartment. The quiet was suffocating, a far cry from the usual lively chaos of his racing family. He tried distracting himself with movies, but they all felt meaningless. Even riding, his usual escape, couldn’t fill the void. Everything seemed to loop back to Pecco — his laughter, his touch, his promises.

He imagined them at the ranch, the others surrounding Pecco and Domizia with congratulations. He could see Domizia holding out her hand, showing off the ring, while Pecco stood proudly beside her. That image stung more than any crash ever had.

[siren61]

Guys my hand slipped again

Prompt:

[quillkiller]

genuinely kind of insane that grindeldore never got the wolfstar treatment

[harbingersecho]

RVBtober 8+9 > fall + revelation "You know, sometimes, when somebody falls off a cliff in movies, he's actually just over the edge, hanging on a tree branch or something." "Nope. He's definitely dead."

... and he is. presumably.

(also if you ever decide to try and make a 2-page comic in 2 days even if half of it is just a paintover. don't do that. that's the devil talking)

[good-beanswrites]

Imagine if in OoA, Fuuta wasn't unconscious when Amane showed up during the initial attack. Better for Amane since she's not alone, but probably much worse for Fuuta since he's forced to watch helplessly.

So... prompt? 👉👈

OUGHGH what a concept... You would think the near-death experience is what's most traumatizing to him but no, it's the fact that, yet again, he couldn't be the hero that he thought he was... Thank you so much for the request and uuhh sorry I beat up your boy...

TW for violence/injury, nothing super gory but I did try to detail out Kotoko's canon attacks

He’s probably never even taken a hit in his life.

Kotoko’s fist connected solidly with Fuuta’s jaw. His vision sparked.

And anyway, it’s his own fault. He got himself into this mess.

Her knee jabbed into his gut, knocking the wind out of him before he could gain his bearings from the previous strike. Kotoko had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the night. He’d been dragged out of bed with a cheap shot to his face.

The voices in his head spoke oblivious to the situation. He hardly processed a single word they said, the sound drowned out by the prisoners’ shouts. By the ringing in his ears. 

He’s so pathetic. 

By the crack of his own bones breaking. 

So weak.

By the choked sounds he could hardly recognize as his own. 

So cowardly.

The room dipped and darkened as his consciousness threatened to give out. His chest rattled with a struggling breath. Kotoko’s arm raised, and he got the feeling this blow would be the last.

Well, whatever happens, he did it to himself.

She paused. Something distracted her from behind. Fuuta was left in a heap, his body unresponsive to his mind’s desperate pleas to escape with this chance. The most he could do was angle his head to see what had blessed him with this moment of relief. 

It took only an instant for his gratefulness to sharpen into panic.

Just think of that poor, young girl. She had her whole life ahead of her.

Kotoko towered over her Amane. She had flattened herself against the cell door. The flickering fluorescents above cast a shadow across her face.

There was too much spinning inside – and blood outside – of Fuuta’s head to make any sense of what they were saying to one another. He got a pretty good idea when Kotoko lunged forward and struck the girl.

And now she’s dead. Because of him.

Fuuta tried to pick himself up. He had to stop this. More blood pooled around him, but he no longer cared. All he could focus on was the new splotches of red that Amane dabbed at with her uniform sleeve.

As hard as he willed himself to move, his limbs refused. He thought emergencies like this were supposed to give you newfound adrenaline. You were supposed to triumph over the pain, not succumb to it ripping through every inch of your being.

Does he think this is one of his stupid video games? This is real life. He’s nothing special. 

He dragged himself an inch or two forward, and that was all. He could only watch helplessly as Kotoko attacked again. Amane sank to the ground after a few harsh kicks to her legs. She lifted her arms to block her face. 

If he wanted to help society, he should have protected people. He should have protected that girl.

Fuuta had never begged for anything in his life before. 

He opened his mouth to beg Kotoko to stop. 

But his body was doing everything in its power to sabotage him. His words dissolved into wheezing coughs. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t save anyone.

He hasn’t done anything useful with his life. Worthless.

Darkness invaded his vision. The horrible sounds within the cell grew more and more distant.  

Amane was thrown to the ground nearby. She lay close enough for him to reach his arm towards her, though still out of his grasp. Her eyes were trained on him. He wished he had the voice to scream at her to look away – to turn her attention to Kotoko, and not the failure of a man who wasn’t going to help her. 

All he could do was hold her gaze until his own eyes slipped shut.

Some hero he was.

Just before the world disappeared around him, he felt warm fingers interlock with his, and squeeze.