#But people tend to over-whiny her?

[serpercival]

For the blorbo bingo, Peri Brown!

[coryosbaby]

—1-800-ʙᴀɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴏᴅꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ !

(Dark! Dbf! Anakin Skywalker x fem! Reader)

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: your parents leave you home alone to tend to the christian faith. It’s a good thing that your daddy’s friend is there to help you atone !

୨୧ Content warning . Dubious consent (reader is naive, but consents), blasphemy & strong religious themes, manipulation, baby trapping? age gap (reader is of in her 20s)// innocence kink, god complex, loss of virginity, size kink, oral, pnv, missionary + full nelson position

Disclaimer: I am not religious, though I do know there are people that are. pls block if it bothers you! This is solely fiction and not meant to offend anyone, and I don’t condone using religion as a way to manipulate or hurt others. Thanks! ⋆｡˚ ⋆

Your parents leaving you alone is honestly a scary experience.

Although it’s fun (having the house to yourself means having the large flat screen tv in the living room), you’ve come to find that at night you’re quite afraid of the dark. And of course, your family has left on an adult-only Christian retreat and has left you home alone.

Sure, you’re more than old enough. But you haven’t been exactly… exposed to the world around you. So the idea of monsters and demons filling the dark corners of your home, it becomes even more prominent.

You try to concentrate on your bible, try to read through the verses where God tells you to fear no evil, but the paranoia is creeping in on your cold spine like a winter’s chill. You try to listen to music, too, to drown out the whispers you hear in the night.

But to no avail.

You decide that you have no choice but to call the only contact that’s available to you.

Anakin is your godfather, in the sense that he’s your father’s best friend. He’s always been around, and he’s always helped you with your studies. Anakin— Ani, as you sometimes call him, lives less than a few blocks away. He always tells you that if you need him, he’ll be there. So it wouldn’t hurt to ring him up, right?

Pressing the dial on your phone, you type in his number with ease. Biting your thumb nail you wait for him to answer. He picks up on the third ring.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?”

You smile at his voice, the one that always gives you that tingly feeling in your stomach. You suspect that it’s because he’s your favorite person.

“Everything’s fine, Ani. Are you at work?”

“It’s a Saturday, isn’t it?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Then I’m off work, sweetheart,” he replies softly, and then you get that tingly feeling again. “Why did you decide to call?”

It’s not in the sense that he’s annoyed— he’s genuinely curious. You nervously rock back and forth on the balls of your feet.

“Well—“ you start, embarrassed. “Mom and dad are out, ‘n— it’s dark.”

“Dark?”

“It’s—“ you can feel tears beginning to form in your eyes as the wind creaks outside. “I don’t like it, Ani. I don’t wanna be alone in here... Please come.”

Anakin’s cock presses against his zipper at the sound of your whiny, desperate voice. He palms his bulge through his slacks.

“Yeah, baby. ‘Course I’ll come,” he pauses. “Just gotta do something first, okay? Then I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

You sniffle, the tears beginning to fall now.

“Okay. ‘M sorry.”

“For what? Don’t apologize to me sweetheart. Just wait there.”

—

A good forty minutes later Anakin is there, and when you open the door for him you latch onto him like a leech— your hands wrap around his waist, your bury your face into his fit chest, and you whimper against him as he coos gentle reassurances to you.

“It’s okay, baby. Ani’s here.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

He brings you over to the couch, sitting you on the cushion beside him as he looks down at your pink bible. He notes that you use the wooden cross necklace he had bought you for your nineteenth birthday as a bookmark.

“Been readin’?” He notes, looking down at the opened pages. You’ve been highlighting some verses, and next to this book there’s another: Christianity for Girls.

“Mhm.”

Anakin picks it up with idle hands. He flips to the first chapter.

“C’mere. Want me to read to you?”

“Yes, sir.” You reply, and with a gentle flick to your hair you begin to climb into his lap. It’s not uncommon for you to do this— he’s so comfy and warm. Even though sometimes the things in his pocket tend to poke against your bottom, you don’t mind. It’s worth it if Ani has his big arms wrapped around you.

He grunts as you settle down on him— his cock twitches as he feels your panties hit his lap. Your skirt is covered just enough to not expose you, but it still rides up as you sit down. His hand grips your thigh, and with the other he settles the book in his palm.

“Chapter 1,” he clears his throat. “Rules.”

Well, okay. If you say so.

“Girls should always follow their faith in God.”

Fair enough.

You nod along, as he reads the next.

“Girls should go to church every Sunday.” He smirks, turning to you. “Do you go to church every Sunday?”

“Of course! I love church.”

Anakin chuckles, flipping to the next page and adjusting himself from underneath you.

“Rule number three,” he says. His voice hesitates as he reads the next line, then he awkwardly clears his throat. “No premarital sex.”

Your brows furrow, bottom lip pulling between your teeth. “What’s that?”

He sucks in a breath, his cock beginning to become hard for a second time today.

“Sex? It’s—“

“No, no,” you giggle, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. “I meant— I know what sex is, Ani. Sort of. But.. what is premarital sex?”

“It’s sex before marriage. Doing it with someone you aren’t going to devote yourself to.”

“Oh.” You twiddle your fingers, eyes averting down to look at the ink splattered pages. “But— if you do it with someone you’re going to devote yourself to, without being married anyway, isn’t that still non premarital? I mean, in a way, you are married…sort of.”

Anakin shrugs, resting his head on your shoulder. You try to ignore how the closeness of his breath makes you tingle.

“Dunno, honey. I guess so. Never thought of it that way.”

You nod, wiggling around on his lap to get more comfortable. Anakin’s fingers grab your hips with a firm hand.

“Have you ever done it?” You ask. “Premarital sex, I mean.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle. Something in him is breaking apart, all these years of pent up sexual frustration for you beginning to come to a head as his resolve crumbles.

“Yes. Many times,” he coincides. “With a lot of people I didn’t care about. I shouldn’t of done that. It’s bad.”

Your face fills to the brim with heat, as the tension in the room grows incredibly thick. Your eyes widen when you feel him hump against your clothed cunt.

“What about you, baby?” He whispers against the shell of your ear. “Have you done it?”

You stutter, hesitating, and that’s when Anakin gets his answer.

“Right. ‘Course you haven’t,” and then, quietly, as if to himself, “Too precious for those boys…”

You let out a small sound in the back of your throat, that tingly feeling growing evermore prominent. You don’t know why you’re feeling this way. Maybe it’s the heat in the room, maybe it’s your claustrophobia.

Or maybe, you think, it’s the devil.

White hot heat coils in your private parts, and you try to get off of Anakin to get rid of feeling. He tsks, grabbing your hips and shoving you back into his lap. You whine, hands gripping is in an attempt to get away.

“Ani.. c’mon—“

“Do you touch yourself?” He asks darkly. You let out a little gasp. “Do you touch your princess parts, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, almost too quickly, and can’t help but press your thighs together. Anakin is having none of it.

“Liar,” he hisses. “You have. Don’t lie to me. I know when you’re lying to me.”

“I’m sorry!” You whimper against his harsh grip. “I-I stopped! I did, I really did, and I’ve been meaning to repent and atone for my sins but I haven’t yet…please, Ani.”

Tears of shame begin to fall from your eyes, wet and salty. You let out a little cry. Anakin softens a bit, his grip on you loosening. He wraps his arms around your tummy and quietly shushes you.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, angel, I know you didn’t mean to,” he coos, as your hands move around to rest in the locks of his hair. “Sensitive baby. I know it’s hard not to touch yourself down there. ‘S okay.”

“Promise?” You sniffle, turning your head to look into his eyes. He smiles.

“I promise.”

Your eyes innocently move down to his lips, that feeling growing inside even more.

“Ani..” you whisper. “It’s.. I want to.. to touch myself again. I don’t know how to control it…”

He strokes your hair out of your face with his fingers, cooing again.

“It’s okay,” and then, after a moment, with his cock pressed flush against your cunt, “I can help. Do you want me to?”

“But.. isn’t that premarital sex?”

He presses a kiss against your earlobe.

“You love me, don’t you? And I know I love you. So isn’t that marital sex?”

Your brain has turned into a puddle. Softly, you whisper out, “yes.”

He smiles against your skin, his hands sliding up past the expanse of your thighs.

“There’s something they don’t tell you about sex,” he murmurs. “When you let the man you love inside you, it’s a way to celebrate god. You become one with god.” He quirks a brow, watching you listen closely to him. “And you atone. Don’t you want to atone, baby?”

Your doe eyes look up at him, and you nod. He grins, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wants you. His thumb pulls the flesh of your bottom lip down and he watches it bounce back against your teeth.

“Why don’t you give me a kiss? Hm, pretty?”

And just like that, he’s got you. Your lips, ever so softly, come up to peck his. He smiles.

“Again.”

And you do kiss him again. Only this time, he presses hard into your mouth and it’s not long before his hands are tangling in your hair and he’s rubbing his tongue against your bottom lip. It’s all surreal, this man below you, his cock hard. You don’t know that, of course. Pulling away from him, you have a confused look on your face.

“What’s always in your pocket? ‘S poking me.”

Anakin doesn’t say anything. He just laughs at you, and leans in for more of your kisses. You get too lost in the feeing of his hands massaging your inner thighs to press him for an answer. But you find out soon enough when you feel him push your hand down into the front of his pants. Letting out a small squeak you feel the warm skin of his cock, and something tugs at your lower tummy again.

“Oh.” you say softly, understanding. It was never something in his pocket— it was him.

“Feel what you did to me?” Anakin huffs out, as he guides your hand up and down on his length. “That’s my cock, baby. It’s what happens when I get really excited to see you.”

A small smile grazes your features at the thought of Anakin liking your presence. A whole lot, it seems, because his body is physically reacting. He grunts when you squeeze his length out of curiosity.

“Does it hurt?” You murmur, watching him.

“Not at all,” he coincides, adjusting you on his lap. “Feels good.“

And okay, that’s even better. Now you’re making Anakin feel good. Pride floods your chest. Watching him, you feel his precum drip down your fist.

“Can I see it?”

Your voice surprises him, and he’s nodding so quickly that it seems like he might break his neck.

“‘Course, pretty girl, can watch it all day if you want to…” looking at you hungrily, he mutters in a soft tone, “C’mere, get on your knees.”

Confusion muddles your brain, but not as much as the ache to please him. You crawl off of his lap, and he takes one of the couch pillows and places it on the floor.

“Sit.” He commands, and you rest your knees on the pillow and your small hands on his big thighs.

He unbuttons his fly, then his zipper. His bulge is straining against his briefs, a wet patch on the front from his arousal. Gulping, you watch as he pulls his pants and underwear all the way down and slips them off.

His length springs free, dripping with pre and insanely long. Your eyes widen as you watch it, wondering: where does it go?

Okay. So, you have a vague idea of where it’s supposed to go— somewhere in you, but you don’t know where. But either way, you know for for a fact that wherever that is isn’t adjustable enough for such a big thing. Your face floods with embarrassment.

“Where do I…” you start, quiet. Anakin furrows a brow, grabbing his cock into his palm.

“Where do you what?”

You avoid his gaze.

“Where do I.. put it?”

A smile quirks on the man’s lips, stroking himself to the sight of your pretty face peering at his cock.

“Your mouth, sometimes. But especially where you touch yourself, angel. Your cunt.” He tilts his head, not shaming you but trying to explain. “Do you know what your cunt is?”

You shyly nod, knowing that that’s what some of the boys around town called that spot where you touch yourself. And now, feeling this odd tingle inside you, it all makes perfect sense. It wants Ani inside.

But you frown at him.

“It won’t fit,” you say sadly. “‘S too big”

“It’ll fit, honey. Just have to stretch you first.”

Stretch you? That sounds painful! Fear courses through you.

“Stretch me?” You say worriedly.

Anakin seems amused by your reaction.

“It’ll only hurt a little, then it’ll feel really good,” he explains. “I promise. Don’t you trust me?”

Your head moves up and down, and you know that it’s true. He smiles softly, and then he’s tapping your lip with his finger.

“Open,” he says.

Your parted mouth falls completely open, pink tongue lolling out as he places the tip of his cock on it. It takes you by surprise, and your lashes flutter as his taste evades your senses. It’s an odd flavor— not too bad, but not too good either. Though, the thought of it being from Ani makes it all worth while. He slaps himself against your tongue a few times, the wet muscle making a plopping sound as his stringy precum creates a small puddle in your mouth. He watches, proud, and he praises you in the most gentle tone he can muster.

“Good girl. Such a pretty mouth, can’t wait to cum inside it…”

And that makes your eyes shut tight as you let out a loud whine, knowing that his cum is another delicious fluid that you will happily drink up soon. His cock guides itself even more into your mouth, the cockhead disappearing in between your plush lips. You use your mouth gently, treating his cock with care, not wanting to hurt him. He grunts when you swirl your tongue around him.

“Mmm,” he breathes. “Lick it, baby. Like an ice cream cone… yeahhh. Just like that, sweet girl.”

You hollow your cheeks around his mushroomed head, your brain becoming fuzzy at the feeling of his length moving in and out of your mouth. Suckling him, he’s soft and warm on your tongue.

You do this for quite some time. Anakin’s thrusts speed up, and he makes you take more and more and more. When you choke on him for the first time he tells you that it’s okay— “just get through it, baby, don’t you wanna be good for me?” And of course you do, because it’s Ani, and he’s really handsome and he smells really nice and his hands are so big as they card themselves through your hair. You can’t get enough and you’re almost angry he hadn’t shown you this sooner. Your vision is dizzy as he uses your mouth.

On a particularly harsh thrust that makes your throat spasm around him, Anakin begins to make some very pretty noises. Drool leaks down your chin and chest, your mascara running, his balls slapping against your chin. He groans loudly.

“Gonna cum,” he mutters out. “Gonna fill up your throat. Do you want that, sweet girl?”

You can’t say anything, but you try your hardest to nod around his cock. He gets the message. And with stuttering hips, salty fluid shoots into the wet canal of your mouth. It fills you up until you’re choking, and as Anakin rides out his high his cock practically coats itself in cum as he moves in and out, in and out. He pulls you off of him after a moment, and with a mouth full of spend you gasp out for air. Anakin’s got this possessive stare in his eyes as he looks at you.

“Swallow it.”

You do. You gulp it down excitedly, and with a small “aaaaa” you stick out your tongue so he can see that you’ve consumed it all. Anakin looks down at you with a grin on his face.

“That’s my girl.”

—

“I want you to… to put it in me.”

Your voice speaks softly in the darkness of your room, rain pattering against your window as Anakin sits on your bed across from you. It’s been a week since your last… encounter. Your parents are out once again— and as requested, Anakin had shown up on your doorstep to keep you company. After a mug of hot chocolate, your favorite, you had invited the man into your room. A cross is around his neck, shiny with a silver chain. His hair is messy, his fingers clad in silver metal rings. You want to bite them.

Anakin smiles, pretty teeth shining.

“Do you know the story of the Virgin Mary?” He asks, out of context. Your eyes light up. Mary is your favorite biblical figure.

“Yes!” You reply to him. “She got pregnant by God.”

“And how did she do that?”

“By magic!” You say. “She gave birth to Jesus.”

Anakin chuckles, kissing your forehead softly.

“Such a smart girl. But sweetheart, magic didn’t give her a baby.” At the sight of your confused face, he continues. “Sex did. That’s how all babies are made.”

Heat creeps up your neck, your face puzzled. “So you’ll give me a baby?”

Anakin should be frightened at the thought of getting his best friend’s daughter pregnant, but he isn’t. In fact, he smiles, his touch leaving tingles against your skin.

“If that’s what you want. Just imagine, angel..” his lips brush against your ear, smoothing back a strand of your hair. “A beautiful baby. My nose, my lips.. those pretty eyes of yours.”

You bite your lip, your heart fluttering. Having Anakin’s baby would be your dream! Having a house with him, children running around, Anakin coming home from work everyday…

Oh, but daddy would be so mad.

He would never look at you the same again. He would be ashamed, he would damn you to the deepest pit of hell.

You think these things so incredibly, but once Anakin’s lips press against yours all of those things go away. He kisses you slow, sweet, gentle. His stomach presses against your tummy.

“I can’t wait to see it. Your little belly, all swollen with my baby..”

And daddy is out of your thoughts and replaced with a new, different daddy: Anakin.

It’s not long before he’s got you laid down on your ruffled pink sheets, your baby blue nightgown gone (“cmon, let me see that pretty body”), with Anakin’s lips trailing down your neck. He’s gotten you prepped, used his fingers and tongue in oh so many ways that had made you quiver, used your throbbing cunt for his own meal. When you spread your legs for him this time, it’s so he can rub his incredibly hard length against the lips of your pussy. Delectable and sweet as he remembers, Anakin watches the way your leftover cum and slick coat his length generously.

He’s never seen a cunt so cute, so fat, so swollen and precious. He taps his cockhead against your clit, listens to the desperate little pleas you let out as you look up at him with doe eyes.

“Please, Ani, want your baby.”

“Please, daddy, put it inside me. My cunt’s so tight and wet for you..”

You don’t say that last part, Anakin’s imagination runs wild, but he knows you’re probably thinking that— thinking that as his mushroomed tip pops inside your entrance, stretching, burning. Thinking that as you cry, your salty tears his most delectable meal besides the thing in between your legs. Thinking that as you grimace, give him that pained look as he fully sheathes himself inside.

And then, he begins to move.

It’s like a fire in your gut, at first. Hot, burning, grating. But soon it gives way to something else— something not even his fingers can create, something that’s absolutely out of this world. Your nails dig into his back, leaving red welts along the skin, and you should apologize but you can’t bring yourself to care. Ani’s whispering something in your ear, something dirty, filthy, and deprived; you enjoy it so much, you really do, as he speaks to you like this.

“Good girl, so tight. Daddy’s so happy when he fucks his little princess.”

“Look at that, how red and swollen your little pussy is. Is my cock too big for it?”

After harsh thrusts, skin slapping against skin, and curled toes, Anakin pulls out of you. You almost sob from the loss, but it isn’t long before he lays you on top of him and slips himself back into your sopping hole, pulling your ankles behind your head. This causes your eyes to flutter open again, a small moan leaving you. Anakin brings his hands around to hold your legs and head in a chokehold. He fucks you like that, all twisted and overstimulated.

Looking down, you watch as his length fills you to the brim and moves in and out of you.

“A-Am —“ you sniffle, a pleasured sob racking through your throat. “Am I being good, Ani? Is… Is god inside me now?”

Anakin groans, his hips pressing even harder against your raw fucked pussy.

“Yeah, baby,” He breathes, his hand pressing against the bulge poking out of your lower tummy. “God’s in you. Right in this little tummy.“

You mewl, understanding his words, the blasphemy in them. A blush coats your cheeks as you murmur out, “don’t say that.. ‘s bad. You’re being bad.”

“But I’m making you feel so good. Aren’t I, baby?” He taunts, with a hint of malice in his voice. “Isn’t this what you wanted? A thick, hard cock to fill up this little pussy?”

You shake your head, trying to deny yourself this pleasure you can’t contain. Anakin chuckles.

“Yes, it is. I can tell when you’re lying, little girl... oh, look at you. Little legs are shaking. Poor baby…”

You should feel guilty for all the dirty things leaving his sinful mouth. You should hate him and find him icky and push him away. Hes a dirty, filthy man.

But… he’s your Ani. The man who protects you, hugs you when you’re sad, buys you your favorite lip gloss and stuffed animals. And that cross is dangling in pressing against your back, cold and heavy like a burden but still turning you on and— he smells so good, and although you keep trying to move away from his harsh fucking, you know in your mind that you don’t want him to stop. Little sounds escape your throat with each thrust, moans and whines that sound like a wounded animal. But you are far from wounded— unless you count the soreness you’re probably going to feel tomorrow from Anakin pounding your guts.

Grunting, his arms flex on each side of you as he grasps your body with firm hands.

The man’s cock moves against your walls harshly, slick penetrating the skin of your thighs and making you shake. A smirk glazes his lips as he watches your face contorted in pleasure, and your neck is craned so you can see every facial expression he makes.

You thought you had never seen God. But right now, you might not be so sure.

“Good little angel,” he groans gently. “Such a tight little fuck hole for daddy.”

You want to be disgusted by the name, wanted to be disgusted since the first time he said it, but before you can think too hard the tip of his mushroomed head slams against a certain spot that has you sobbing out, “daddy, daddy!” against your own accord. He moans himself at the sound of your pleasure.

“Good fucking girl. Hittin’ that princess spot so good, yeah? Pussy feelin’ good?”

Your eyes roll back, your body going limp like a rag doll as you relax against his jackhammering thrusts. It all feels too good. The Bible always talks about heaven and you think that this is truly it: Anakin below you, holding you down, humping into you like an animal, as he spews disgusting phrases into your ears.

Maybe he isn’t the devil. Maybe he’s God.

You can feel something building up in your tummy, the familiar butterflies now turning dark like moth wings, scraping against that one spot over and over and over. God grins from below you, and bringing his hand up he forces your mouth open with his big fingers. His spit lands down on your tongue, wet and warm and perfect.

“Swallow.” He commands, and you do it greedily. Your voice moans for more, aches for more, and he does it thrice.

“Do you trust me?” He growls. “Do you trust me, baby?”

“Yes! Yes sir.” You whimper, and you know it’s true when it falls from your lips. He forces his fingers to press even harsher around your head. Your ears ring, a pressure beginning to form in your skull.

“God’s got you,” Anakin growls. “God’s got you and your life in his hands. And you know what?”

You don’t say anything, just shake your head as you try to catch a breath of air.

“He’s not gonna let it go.” He continues. “You’re gonna feel this, honey. You’re gonna get fucked like this all the time—“ your vision is blurring, his words making you spasm. He brings his fingers down to that swollen button on your soaked pussy and rubs in harsh circles. “— When daddy thinks his precious little girl is asleep, when he thinks she’s praying to god, she’s going to be praying to me. Choking on my dick, getting fuckin’ bred. Do you want that? Do you want my cum, you fucking slut?”

You can’t really hear him anymore; your body has gone completely limp, your eyes fluttering shut as you ride out wave upon wave of pleasure. You’re still breathing, you know you are, but you fall unconscious in Anakin’s harsh grasp.

And when he sees you like that, all fucked out and deadweight, he groans and begins to pound you harder.

[g1rlken]

Hi hi! For the prompts can you do 10 and 14 with Christian bales Bruce Wayne?

Prompt: chaotic married life w kids + domestic fluff

Words: 2k

Thank you sm for this req it’s so cute

-

Marriage tends to change people is a superficial analysis of growing together but children sure do change routines. Especially morning routines where chaos is an understatement. Raising a child requires a village but for twins a whole army might just suffice. Vincent and William. A very pleasant blessing of two little boys in the Wayne household. However Bruce and y/n were subjected to consider just how much of peace was the cost of that blessing.

Their twins were such serene babies, toddler phase was a transition to literal devils during grade school. Getting them to do home work, go to school, eat the greens, not unleash hell…such difficult tasks.

Today like every other school morning, the parents had divided to bathe the twins in different bathrooms. When they were much younger and playful as babies bathing them in the giant bathtub where they’d just play with soap bubbles and those Amazon find bath toys was a cute activity. Nowadays, on Sundays sometimes they’d just hose them down in the garden and call it a day. It was so much more convenient for the parents and even the twins who absolutely despised bathing. Y/n bathed the older twin Vincent in the bathroom which was upstairs, Bruce downstairs with William who was a bad influence of his brother to not bathe and Alfred preparing breakfast and lunch boxes.

“Bruce!” Y/n voice shrieked from upstairs followed by a whiny cry from Vincent and he rushed to inquire, finding his wife looking for the sink holding her eyes shut.

“What happened here…?” Bruce asked as stepped inside and was immediately attacked by a plastic bottle Vincent could get his hands on as he moved frantically in the bathtub. Bruce dodged it with dad reflex thankfully.

“There’s shampoo in our eyes” Y/n briefed him and pointed at their son to go help him given she could assist herself with the sink water.

Vincent was just moving frantically in the shallow bath water shaking his head and hands splashing the water “Do something!” The boy demanded with a shrill cry.

“ Vin, calm down” Bruce urged as he bent on his knees to the bath level and held some of the running water in his hands to pour into his shampoo hurting eyes but he’d just squeezed them shut. “Open your eyes”

“I can’t! They hurt!” The boy whined and splashed the water very disruptively it went all over Bruce’s face.

“Breathe, you’re alright just breathe…open your eyes.” Bruce soothed anyways as he helped Vincent soothe the hurt by sprinkling cleaner water again, “why were you shampooing him anyways? We literally have school in an hour”

“I wasn’t but someone keeps on changing the bottles with soap and shampoo again and again” Y/n replied scoffing in obviousness as she air dried her eyes, it was Bruce who colour coded them like that in a different set of bottle at each refill. Washing hair of a seven year old who will fight a literal battle to resist it, will most definitely end up in a painful situation as such.

“It is literally so simple, white for soap and off white for shampoo” Bruce accounted for his way of arrangement as he dabbed his son’s eyes with towel, soothing his cries.

“We don’t have time to go into that discourse I’ll go pack lunch” Y/n said as she hurriedly wiped her own eyes.

“Oh Alfred’s on it…” Bruce informed her casually as Vincent’s eyes were normal again he opened them with a heavy sigh.

“Oh man I’m never using shampoo again.” The boy said dramatically and received a disapproving shake of head from his dad.

“Wait then who’s with Will?” Y/n asked about their younger twin William, whose morning crankiness were much worse.

“Uh” Bruce paused realising he’d not considered that as he’d rushed to his wife’s call for help “He was brushing his teeth”

“Alright he’s most definitely asleep again.” She sighed composing herself, leaving Vincent to get out of bath and dressed for his dad she rushed downstairs. As expected, William was fast asleep on the marble sink leaning against the wall with his legs dangling down the sink, ever since the kids learned to climb places no surface was unreachable. “Willy!” Y/n exclaimed as she carried him down the sink “William wake up come on we’ve to go to school!” She exclaimed and brushed his teeth for him hurriedly as he mumbled something about not wanting to go.

“I don’t want to…” will whined still half asleep not wanting to go because he still wanted to sleep. During vacations it was difficult to put him down to bed just absolute monkey activities all day long jumping here to there and during school days he couldn’t be bothered to brush his teeth even.

William tried to have a one sided debate about why he shouldn’t have to go to school and was eventually fully awake, much to y/n’s demise now she couldn’t manhandle and carry her son to brush his teeth and bath because now he was ready to have full sassy conversations. “You know I’m not getting in that right?” He said to his mum and gave the filling bathtub a disgusting look.

“We literally don’t have time for this please don’t bring-“ his mum started sighing as she foresaw the upcoming torment.

“What?” William said exaggerating his obviousness “I won’t be clean with gutter water”

“It’s not guttter water!” She tried to , despite being on the clock “Don’t believe everything you hear in school” she bent to her knees to match his eye level and try to convince him better “you know no ones want to sit with the kid who hasn’t bathed in 24 hours?”

“But didn’t you say people should like each other for who they are and their kindness and not what they dress and look like” Will responded smugly crossing his arms at his mum, well aware he was winning this debate so far.

Taking a deep breath to subside her annoyance of her own words biting her back, “No, that was for when you wanted to wear your ducky hat and those big kids made fun of you. Not for hygiene.”

“I don’t even know what that word means so…” he trailed off with a pout of correctness.

“Look, we’re going to be really late can you please cooperate.”

“I am awake, I brushed my teeth and I am talking to you that is enough operation on my part” William reasoned with his mom with a shrug.

“It’s cooperation.” She corrected him.

“It’s the same thing” William answered offering her mom a smile of encouragement, as if she did not know the word.

“No it’s not.” Y/n replied before she could continue Bruce’s knock on the open door averted their attention.

“He’s still not ready?” Bruce exclaimed in urgency.

“Vin?” Y/n asked about the status of the other twin as Bruce nodded and briefed her that he was with Alfred. Joint breakfast plus lunch box duties. Bruce stepped inside because clearly with his wife on his son’s eye level trying to convince him to shower seemed like she needed help.

“I literally don’t even have to go to school!” William exclaimed “I know each and every animal and I know that that water comes from sewage!” He said pointing to the bath water.

“For the hundredth time will, it doesn’t come from the sewage!” Bruce interjected with a sigh. “It’s very clean”

“So I can drink it?” William proposed raising brows at his parents.

“No” Y/n replied almost instantly, William was very fast to react she was worried he might actually try something “No you can’t drink it.”

“Why?” William demanded an answer with the hopes of his parents getting trapped in their own initial proponent that the water was not from sewage.

“Look I’m going to count to three if you don’t get in-“ Y/n began, as they were really on the clock she couldn’t reason ever so rationally.

“Hey hey no” Bruce interrupted his wife shaking his head, “We don’t do that, don’t threaten him. We have a civil conversation.”

“I’m not threatening him woah” she replied with a huff at his accusation.

“Count to three and what? Splash him?” Bruce asked somewhat wanting to have stern yet hostile approach to the kid.

“—Of course!”

“But I only have to bath if I have to go to school wight?” William enquired mispronouncing right for wight “what if I don’t? Can’t I just be homeschooled?! Dada was homeschooled.”

“Exactly, dada was homeschooled and he’s now a grown up who has no friends.” Y/n explained it to him rather unapologetically but not in a poking way to Bruce . “Do you want to be like that?”

“No that’s not true I have friends” Bruce jumped to his defence somewhat taken aback how casually his wife threw that one in, despite an apologetic smile she offered him.

“Name your two best friends then.” William investigated as he looked up at his dad with an anticipated look.

Bruce paused for a moment as he thought about it, he looked serious which made y/n wonder if he had any friends she hadn’t known of this entire time. His face seemed like he was trying to pick between his ever so large group of friends but he began, “Y/n and..” he trailed off thinking again but William had gotten his answer.

“Okay I understand now.” William said looking his mom, both of them shared a small laugh which Bruce didn’t exactly get on but at least William agreed to get in the bath.

-

Leaving Bruce to dress the boy y/n rushed outside to help Alfred with breakfast and lunch boxes, “hey hey hey” she rushed over to Alfred, where Vincent was clinging to the old man as piggy back. A very concerning sight given, not that he would fall but Alfred was rather old. “Get down from there!”

“It’s alright Miss Wayne.” Alfred said with a smile as Vincent just laughed getting favoured against his mum’s demand.

“No it’s not.” She shook her head carrying Vincent off of him and placed him on the dinning table chair, “They’re both getting way too heavy to carry.”

“I just can’t refuse them.” Alfred laughed a small laugh as he set the plates for breakfast.

“Well you should” Y/n said hurriedly as she rummaged through the cabinets to get the lunch boxes out, by then Bruce returned with a towel over will’s head. Once he sat him on the chair he rubbed his drenched hair hastily.

“No not my hair!” Vincent flinched with a scowl on his face when Bruce attempted to dry his hair as well.

“We’re late Vin, come on” Bruce refused to give into the whining at this point and dried Vincent’s hair anyways. He walked across the kitchen to help y/n reaching for the lunch box on the top shelf as she prepared one of those.

“Late?” Alfred asked as he registered the sentence “Late for what? It’s Sunday.”

“It’s Sunday today?!” Y/n asked as she turned around and her eyes winded.

“Yes.” Alfred nodded positively as he pointed to the calendar.

The parents just sighed relaxing their shoulders in regret, “wow” y/n chuckled softly as Bruce joined along comprehending his regret with the humour of it as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I did not just bathe both of them on a Sunday.” She laughed as Bruce brought her into a side hug.

“You?” He raised a brow looking down at her.

“We” she corrected herself with a smile as she gave him with a soft peck on the lips.

[frogchiro]

im super curious on which of the men do you think would be more than overjoyed to be tied naked to their bed, legs and arms spread, as reader grinds on his cock through lace panties or as she teases and teases him by letting her wetness drip down his cock to his balls as she rubs her clit over him? or by only putting the tip of his tip inside of her before reader bucks up, leaving his cock high and dry? the man growling, pulling on his restraints and bucking his hips higher and stronger to just get at least the full tip wet to at least feel reader's soaking pussy all around him. so so close to cumming all over her pussy he just needs her touch. desperate and hard whilst reader giggles so sweetly, continuing to moan as she reaches her fifth orgasm on and over him

very VERY unsure if you're comfortable with writing for an ask like this (more dominant female reader, teasing, restraints) so ofc if you're not comfortable, there's absolutely no stress!! much love <333

Oh my jesus nonnie I love you for this ;; I love dominant reader!! Her domming the usually cocky and overly confident big 'n scary military men and bringing them down a peg is my bread and butter. Also putting this under the cut since it turned out to be much longer than I intended ;;

For this one particular scenario I have a few candidates:

König who is this huge, unhinged killer machine, used literally as a human battering ram due to his size and strength and whom people generally tend to avoid due to his 'strange' jittery behavior. His blue eyes crinkle through his mask with boyish joy when he kills, sometimes even letting out an eerily high pitched giggle which off-puts people even more, not to mention he can be a hug dick when it comes to interactions with others; he's either awkward as hell or downright condescending and degrading with his arrogance.

However when it comes to you? The cute new hackergirl KorTac found and dragged in? He's a mess :(( He decided then and there thst he wanted you and would woo you and judging by the awkward fidgeting and shy glances at the older men around you, you'd be easy prey for him...Well until it was him, König, who ended up tied to his bed, moaning and yowling in pain and frustration as you continued to tease him, torture him really as he saw it, with that cute perfect giggle of yours as you continued to slowly jerk his fat cock, cum spurting from his swollen tip and his balls squeezing painfully because they needed to be emptied in the pretty female in front of him :(( It's been so so long, he wanted to claim you but it turned out that it was you who claimed him.

He'd try growling, snarling and even begging for you to please just put the tip inside, please fucking sit down and let him make you feel good but you just giggle at him before moving up and slipping his aching tip from your wet pussy for what felt like the 100th time making poor König whine and buck pathetically up, searching your heat </3

Next one is Simon Riley, but particularly Sleazy Neighbour!Simon. When he finally whined and 'wooed' you enough for you to finally have sex with him for the first time he was over the moon, a nasty smirk on his lips, elated that he finally will get to fuck and claim you all for himself, the first step at making you his wife after all!

What he didn't expect was for you to tie him down with his bulky arms straining against the biding at the headboard, his lengthy cock hard as a rock and leaking on his tummy as you slide your wet cunt all over but not putting it inside :(( It's driving the large male wild!! He was supposed to fuck you into oblivion, make you all whiny and teary, begging him to slow down as he bred you and called you his bitch but as it turned out, it's him who's the bitch now :(

You're having the time of your life, moaning and giggling at the blonde's misery as you slide your pussy against his swollen dick, the copious amount of your slick making the slide much easier and you get first class seat to watch your awful sleazy neighbour get what he deserves for bullying you and not letting him slip inside you <3

The last one is Andrei Nolan and this is something I also discussed with @justadeadreaper on him edging himself and begging you for your permission to cum which I think about expanding on in a different post <3

He both loves and hates this; this feeling of helplessness ad slight humiliation of being such a big and strong man but getting tied down to your shared bed and letting his girl edge him :(( Sounds so pretty toom his normally smooth and deep voice gaining a certain edge to it, deep rumbling moans showing his pleasure and the occasional hitch in his voice and a higher moan indicating that he's close to cumming if the sudden larger amount of sperm leaking from his red dick like a faucet didn't betray him first.

Growls and bares his teeth, gnashing them at your sweet giggle that hides all the evil intentions in your voice, asking him dumb innocent questions like 'Are you close Dyushka? Do you want to cum~?' Of course he fucking wants to cum! He wants to sit you on his fucking cock, slam it deep inside you until he feels your poor cervix and wants to fill you up until you're whining at him and leaking his seed for days but no, instead he's stuck like this, at your mercy as you continue to jerk him off, occasionally in a gesture of cruel mercy you lift yourself up and tease his achy tip at your cunt, rubbing it from your clit down to your hole where you circle it a few times, threatening to slip it in for a few agonizing seconds before letting out a breathy giggle and pulling him out again only to return to edging him with that sweet smile of yours. You're a cruel, cruel woman </3

[sparkrls]

simple questions

MASTERLIST

Summary: in which Harry is eager to makes his girl happy and she just wants answers to simple questions

Author’s Note: a blurb i wrote based on these Harry pics because I am NOT over it

Word Count: 2.6k words

•••

Her boyfriend was an idiot. That’s what Y/N resolved as she watched him stumble over his words as he was asked a simple question of, “Who’s the girl you’re with?”. It wasn’t even anyone important asking, just a fan who’d noticed Harry and felt brave enough to ask for a photo, albeit with hands that shook as she passed over her phone.

It had started as Y/N’s idea. She knew she was entirely at fault for Harry’s nerves, but it wasn’t even completely her idea. She had just asked him, “Have you ever had a public outing with a partner?”

It was an innocent question, asked due to pure curiosity, not with any ulterior motive as Harry suspected. He had given her a look, trying to get a read on her intent behind those words. He tended to do that a lot. Doubt people’s words, like they had some double meaning, and they were trying to trick him into making a fool of himself. She had a tough time getting him to trust her enough as to not doubt her as much, but the trust issues slipped through every once in a while.

Harry then stumbled over his words, the way a newborn doe might trip and fall as it clambered onto its frail legs. Simple questions were never his forte. He could answer you deep, philosophical questions and ponder them in his mind without hesitation, but it was the simple questions that tripped him up. A whole conundrum, if you asked Y/N.

Eventually, Harry admitted, “No.”

She’d stared at him with a deadpan expression, because it had taken an extraordinary amount of ‘um’s and ‘uh’, along with some weird humming sounds to get a one-word answer from him.

So she followed up with, “Don’t you wanna?”

“Do you want me to do it with you?”

“Well, no, I was just asking because-“

“I’ll do it with you,” Harry rushed to say.

Sometimes he tended to rush himself into doing favors for people he didn’t really want to do. A tendency lots of overly kind people had. And he’d always have this particular warm, soft tone when he did. And she loved that little tone that indicated he was feeling kind. But lots of times he regretted agreeing to those things and would stumble home to her apartment, grumbling and griping about whatever stupidity he’d been forced to do. So it grew into a strange mixture of adoration and disdain for that tone. Because she never liked to see her boy tired to the bone because he was too polite to back away from a promise. (Although she did love running her fingers through his soft hair until he fell asleep with his head on her lap)

This time, however, Harry wasn’t using that warm tone. It was a much different one, a bit of a higher pitch, and with a much sweeter undertone. It was a tone he used when he was trying to win the favor of his girlfriend.

She chuckled, “Baby, I didn’t ask you to-“

Harry had one arm rested on her waist and the other underneath the pillow she rested her head on. “But I wanna,” He said with a small pout, an almost whiny quality to his words. His cherry lips looked so kissable when they stuck out that way. “Wanna show the world you’re mine.” He leaned up until his nose was nuzzling her neck, and his lips brushed against her collarbone. “Mine and only mine.”

His lips clamped down on her skin, sucking at it for a moment before allowing his teeth to nibble lightly. Sharp stings followed wherever his teeth sunk in so deliciously, sending sparks throughout her whole body.

Y/N had learned early on that Harry had a very possessive side to him. He’d spent years feeling that everything he was belonged to the public, including all the dirty details of his personal life and his friends and partners. And now he had regained that privacy (he’d had to pry it by force from the unfailing grip of the media), he wanted to claim everything as his own.

It was why Harry was so fiercely protective of his friends and loyal to a fault. He felt the incessant urge to always stick by their side. He finally knew what it was like to have something belong to him, and it was his greatest fear to lose it.

After a lot of therapy, communication and compromise, Harry had not only found a healthy balance for himself but for his relationship with Y/N as well. A certain possessiveness that she wouldn’t deny him because she could never refuse anything he asked, and it was just part of who he was. But a harsh line as to not become controlling or overprotective as Harry had threatened to do in previous relationships.

The habits snuck into their daily lives, as Harry had a tendency to leave marks where everyone could see them. Therefore, the hickeys on the neck which Y/N always had to cover with concealer because she despised turtlenecks with a passion.

“Love, I’m not doubting your choice,” she began to speak, interrupted by Harry leaving open-mouthed kisses from her jugular up to the base of her jaw. And it was getting hard to think straight when his lips were on her and his tongue was tracing delightful patterns.

Y/N cleared her throat trying to focus. “However, I don’t want this to be an impulse decision. Think it through.”

Harry separated his lips from her skin long enough to murmur, “I’m sure. I wanted to make it public to everyone soon anyways, might as well go out together.” As he spoke, his warm breath grazed against her sensitive skin, causing goosebumps.

“Go out where?”

“The Man U match, obviously.”

And that was why Y/N spent the next week fussing over her choice of hairstyle, whether to leave her natural waves or straighten it or straighten it and then create strategically messy waves. And then freaking out on the phone to her best friend about whether her outfit was a good choice or not. Because of course, she had to look stylish for her first public appearance with Harry- those photos would be circulating the internet until the day she died- but she also had to dress for the unforgiving winter and plan for rain. Even if she was going to be in the VIP suite with Harry, the entrance and exit could possibly have rain, and she couldn’t always count on an umbrella. She’d learned that the five times she’d gotten stuck in the rain while waiting at a too-full bus stop in peak traffic in London.

The point was, Y/N didn’t want to let down Harry nor the fans by wearing the wrong hairstyle, clothes or makeup. Resulting in overthinking every tiny detail down to the jewelry.

The morning of, it was Harry who soothed her nerves saying, “Love, if you don’t want to do it we don’t have to. It was always a choice.”

“I want to, but it’s just…” She looked up at him with a shaky breath. “It’s scary.”

“We can wait,” Harry replied, placing her face in his hands, his thumb caressing her cheek. “We’ll stay home and watch the game on the telly, we’ll wear our sweats and I’ll order in some food from that Thai place you’ve been wanting to try.”

Taking a good look at Harry from top to bottom, from those dress pants that clung to his thighs in the most delightful manner, and the button-up that tragically hid his well-sculpted biceps to the sweater vest he’d bought the first time they’d gone shopping together. He looked so soft and warm, yet so confident and sure of himself. Like a scale that had finally found balance.

Harry had an energy that screamed youthful, but he’d recently settled into the warm feeling of peace that came not with age, but the realization that chaos wasn’t necessary to be happy. He wasn’t afraid of his career always being on the chopping block, or the precarious opinions of outsiders. He had found himself, and with it, found an inner peace he’d never had before.

And it showed. From the way he dressed, to the courage of him showing up to their hotel room with the surprise of a shaved head one day, to the way he carried himself so firmly. He was centered. He was calm. And he was happy.

This was the first time everyone else would get to see Harry after the latest stage of his self-discovery. And Y/N wouldn’t be the one to hold him back. “No, I want to go,” she said firmly. “But I want you to pick my outfit.”

To no one’s surprise, Harry picked an outfit that was primarily made up of clothing from his own closet, completely shoving aside the outfit she had previously picked out for herself because, “Babe, I have better taste than you.”

Y/N didn’t have bad taste, but when it came to fashion, she laid her trust in Harry… most of the time.

The only thing he kept were the jeans she’d picked out, a new pair she’d gotten recently which flattered her figure. They were high waisted and cropped at the ankle, the color a grayish tone of the classic denim. Most importantly, they highlighted her ass. The one thing that no matter how insecure she was, she always loved. And Harry did as well, if the way he swatted her ass playfully a couple of times a day was any indication.

He paired it with a long-sleeve white top that clung to her skin, a green sweater on top that was slightly baggy on her figure as it was one of his and one a black coat that would keep her warm. Harry was careful to make sure all the layers would keep her warm even in the winter air, as he knew she tolerated much less cold than he did.

“Cute,” Harry said with a dimpled smile when she finished putting on the outfit and gave him a twirl to showcase it. “You’re really pretty, darling.” He hooked his fingers through her belt loops and yanked her forward until she almost toppled into his chest as he sat on the edge of his bed. He gave her a soft smile, the kind he gave her right before a heartfelt message- “And ten times prettier because I chose the outfit.”

Y/N swatted his arm playfully at his joke, and he simply laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “It’s a basic outfit.”

“Aw, don’t be mean because the outfit I picked out is better than the one you did.”

“You’re such a bully.”

Harry grinned at her. “Is that so?”

She nodded in mock earnestness. “Yeah. I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Harry replied simply.

“No, I don’t.”

With a couple of more kisses which included wiping the lipstick from Harry’s lips, the couple got into the car and held hands as the engine started and drove them to the stadium.

“So, we’re cheering for Man U, right?”

Harry sighed heavily. “Love, do you even know me?”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” She said with a chuckle, raising her hands defensively. “Man U for football and Green Bay Packers for the other football.” She gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry baby, but I know nothing about football.”

“I’m going to be explaining all the rules, aren’t I?”

Y/N’s silence was enough of a response.

But then it was time for the most dreaded moment of the day, when they entered the stadium hand-in-hand, walking past press and media and paparazzi.

Harry laced his fingers between hers and gave her a small squeeze before opening the car door and stepping out. He was quick, making her almost jog to catch up with his long strides. He’d warned her he would move hastily as to avoid lingering around the cameras longer than necessary.

There was one quick snap and a small flash and then-

They were inside the stadium and no press could chase them in any longer.

“Wait, that was it?” Y/N asked, glancing at the door they’d just walked through as their pace slowed down.

Harry glanced at her quizzically. “Did you expect more?”

“Well, you always describe it all huge and dramatic, flashing lights and a billion cameras and a huge crowd of screaming lunatics-“

“Football matches are different,” Harry said, chuckling as he interrupted her rant.

“I got worried over that?” Y/N signaled over her shoulder, her jaw dropping. “Seriously?!”

Harry laughed. “What do you expect me to say? You’re an overthinking maniac?”

She huffed, “This is your fault.”

Harry kissed her when her lips pouted. “Love you, darling.”

“Love you too,” She grumbled as they made their way to the VIP suite.

And that’s the full story of how they’d ended up at the Man U match- which they won, thank god, because Harry would’ve teased her relentlessly for being bad luck- and with a fan asking for a photo and asking who Y/N was.

“Um, well- she- we met- me and her-“ Harry couldn’t seem to form a train of thought, so she rolled her eyes and took control of the situation.

Holding out a hand for the fan to shake, Y/N said her name and said, “I’m Harry’s girlfriend. Nice to meet you, babe.”

The fan’s jaw dropped. It was a bit hilarious, but out of sheer politeness, Y/N held back her laughter. “You are definitely hot enough. Cool. Bye.” Turning on her heel, the fan walked away.

Harry seemed in shock as Y/N laughed, turning to him, completely bewildered. “You hear that? I’m ‘hot enough’!”

Without a care in the world of the dozen of cameras probably pointed at them, Harry grasped her face in his hands and gave her a deep, loving kiss.

Y/N scanned his face, a giddy smile on her own, “What was that for?”

“For being my girlfriend,” Harry replied before pulling her back in for another kiss. So maybe she’d allow her boyfriend a celebratory kiss or two or maybe five before they had the decency to move out of sight of the cameras. And just maybe, it wasn’t their last football match together.

Two years later, Y/N and Harry would return to the very same stadium for yet another Man U match, a bit older, a lot more mature and their love stronger after growing roots for so long. The tree flourishing with branches extending to the deeper reaches of her heart, she had never felt so fulfilled. Like the world was so much lighter and easier to endure even with the extra weight of a diamond ring on her finger, and a white gold band identical to the one on Harry’s hand.

“Who’s the girl you’re with?” The fan asked, a 15-year-old girl with her hair dyed blue and a Love On Tour shirt on, her curious eyes scanning Y/N, a flicker of familiarity in them.

Harry smiled, looking his wife up and down, admiring the outfit he’d carefully chosen for her earlier that day. He inhaled deeply, and for once, he didn’t trip over his words as he replied firmly, “This is Y/N. I’m her husband.”

[comfortless]

I have some thoughts about König I wanna run by you. 

I really like the concept of him following rules to the letter, but not the intention. 

like he would never steal from friends, but that only applies to items, job opportunities, romantic interests, and ideas don’t count. 

he would never cheat on his lover, EVER! but…that doesn’t mean he can’t entertain thoughts of the nice recruit who for sure has a crush on him, he could lead her on just a lil bit, live off the attention when he’s deployed and claim ignorance if anything gets serious. 

oh and he would never hit you, of course not! but if he got you riled up enough or angry enough to throw a punch his way he could hold you down and restrain you so you don’t hurt yourself, he’s not a monster for kind of liking how you struggle to break free from his grip, and he’s barely even exerting any energy, it’s a safe kind of powerplay to him. 

ok i am listening and nodding my head yes!

König didn’t get the positive attention he so craved when he was younger, so any little bit of it he can grapple at is his for the taking. He’s a bit impulsive.

Mental health and repercussions are not at all relevant to him when he sees something that he wants and is within the realm of possibility for him to attain. He would have a sort of conniving way when it comes to going about these things, too. It isn’t intentional, but to him, his reasoning is absolute. Probably gets that from his father, but he prefers not to think of that.

He’s no master manipulator here, just a man that is very aware of his few talents. He’s not even good at telling a lie, far too blunt and always speaking the first thing that pops into his head.

There’s a promotion at work another operator is vying for? Well, he’s far more suited for it anyway— look at him. He’s big and good with his weapons, handles them nicely and can plow through an enemy with as much ease as he can a wooden door. His confirmed kills far exceed the number of things that his parents could find and scrape together and deem themselves proud of him for. König’s not entirely withdrawn, either, his people respect him. Some might even admire him a bit, wishing they had the things that he never even asked for: his height, the creepy look upon his face, his lack of hesitation when pulling a trigger or burying his hunting knife in another man’s guts.

They’re on good terms, still on good terms even after he presents his argument as to why he’s just that little bit more deserving. He doesn’t need to bring up his childhood or much of his past to anyone here, but he knows down to his very marrow that people tend to think there’s something off or wrong about him and in turn he’s met with pity or fear. He utilizes it, gets what he feels he deserves by coming off gruff and demanding, even whiny if the situation calls for it. Time and time again, he comes to realize it’s much easier and more rewarding for him to play people like toy soldiers in these situations.

He might not be able to get a girlfriend in any authentic way, but as Ghost said in her reblog here, I do think he would have at least tried a tryst with a friend’s girlfriend at some point. König could reason away any guilt. She came onto him, batting her lashes and wearing that low cut blouse while telling him about just how selfish her man/his friend was in bed. And when it ends terribly as these things do, he’ll learn his lesson well enough, gives some hashed apology over a pint of ale. It doesn’t mend a void, only forces another distance between himself and another person. König is more than used to that.

It is always the wrong thing said or done, always a ship with no harbor to dock. He would have friends, yes, but it’s up in the air as to whether or not any of them last very long. He’s self aware enough to realize that he creates these problems, that he could have just done x instead of y, but there’s this tentative, newfound pride wrought up within him that he doesn’t ever let go of. He doesn’t want to be seen as that weak little boy he once was. Apologies are like pulling teeth, even getting one from him is a big deal.

It isn’t his fault he didn’t get as much pussy as any other man and surely… any true friend of his would know enough about him to accept that he was not entirely the one at fault here. Richtig..?

He’ll be happy to take credit for a job well done. It wasn’t his idea to burst through that door and clear out a room of enemies, but he did the work. He deserves the praise, the increase in pay, whatever benefit he can gain from it. It didn’t matter that Fender barked out the order over the comms, warned his team of potential danger, what matters to König is that he got it taken care of with no casualties on his side.

New recruits come and go often, and more often than not, they’re horrified of this giant that outranks them. König still hasn’t mastered any way with women, but he’s been fortunate enough to land himself a sweet, cute girlfriend that waits for him at home. He’s not an idiot, either, knows a little romp at work isn’t worth a thing in comparison to her and would only add another fire to the desolate world he lives in in his head. His girlfriend’s the only garden he has, and he would rather damn himself entirely than ever see something he loves burn.

So, when one bold woman does approach him, placing her hand on his arm and complimenting his stature, he doesn’t feel a thing except some strange twist of pride.

He’s come a long way from the boy who was ridiculed and bullied relentlessly, worked himself tirelessly into becoming this broad mimicry of a god made flesh. But fuck. The attention is nice. He would compliment this recruit’s aim from time to time, pat her on the head like a good little dog when she takes out an enemy or stacks on extra work for herself. It never goes further than that, but she practically eats out of the palm of his hand, begging with her eyes rather than her voice to ask for a night with her colonel.

And when he’s on leave, and his girlfriend is asking why this woman is texting him so often, he shrugs and casually tosses her his phone. He’s got nothing to hide, hasn’t even entertained the thought of sleeping with this girl. If anything, she reminds him of himself before he ever got laid. That desperation is certainly there, and it does kind of unsettle him. Is this how he came off to women before…? A pitiful little thing that just wants to be loved and cared for?

He doesn’t even respond to the recruit’s messages, even when there are so many of them. He kisses his girlfriend everywhere, fucks her like it’s the first few times all over again, and falls asleep nestled up against her. There’s no room in his heart for anyone except the object of his affection, but a part of him does hope this lost little lady finds her own sliver of heaven too. He knows how she feels and hates the thought of making a woman cry outside of fucking her well. So he lets the recruit down easy next time they meet, tells her he doesn’t care for relationships at work, that he loves his girlfriend and he doesn’t want to hurt her. It’s spoken candidly, and doesn’t leave any room for discussion.

Shame about the lack of affection while deployed, but he’s managed on his own longer than most. He’s got an entire album of pretty photos of his girl in and out of the lingerie he bought for her to keep him company, anyway.

And admittedly, arguments with his beloved turn him on.

They both know that she can’t actually hurt him. When her hand is raised to give him a good slap for being a complete asshole over something as trivial as a cashier for accidentally ringing something up twice, he’s already hard. The grin on his face is nothing short of ugly, because he knows how this ends, the same way that it always does. He would take her wrist only after she’s hit him, let her stew in what she’s done, murmur her apologies through stilted breaths and lashes heavy with tears. She tells him she just doesn’t understand why he is the way that he is sometimes while trying to wrench her hand away from his grip.

He’s not rough enough to hurt her when the argument sparks up again, even guides her down onto the floor with a steady hand on her back while she pleads with him for answers that he just doesn’t have. He would go back to seeing a regular therapist for her, maybe. He would do anything for her and that’s just another thing that they both know.

“Heh… you like me crazy,” König would breathe into her hair when her thighs are locked around his middle. Poor thing can barely speak when she’s exerted her energy trying to best him in a battle she could never hope to win. She’s all whimper and no bite, nails raking over his shoulders with each slow, teasing thrust.

“Look at you.” He practically purrs when her face is taken into one callused palm, brought forward to lock eyes with him when the sounds spilling from her lips grow more needy. And then he gives her the fucking she deserves, rougher when she’s sighing his name and trembling from the residual waves of her own orgasm. It didn’t matter who was right or wrong anymore; argument long-forgotten, buried under a blanket of white heat. He chases his own end, lets her watch him unravel all for her as his seed fills her, spills out where they connect to make a mess of the carpet below.

He’s selfish in those ways.

[rorysbrainrot]

Headcanons for Lorenzo Berkshire

• He doesn’t have the best grades, but he does try hard.

• With his mother being Bellatrix. I think her main focus would be on Mattheo, so Lorenzo always shows her what he did better than Mattheo on.

• He is incredibly cocky like the rest of the “Slytherin boys”, since he is a Berkshire, a wealthy pure blood

• He doesn’t really have opinions on Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, but the way he grew up around people who weren’t to fond on Gryffindors it wouldn’t be a house he likes. (Same as Theo’s)

• Most of his crushes would probably be Slytherins.

• Slytherin Keeper, joined in 5th year.

• Has a strained relationship with his father, and tries to please his mother even if she’s ashamed of him.

• He likes someone who is sweet and willing to do outgoing activities with him.

• Is probably one of the nicest out of his group of friends, but still incredibly arrogant.

• Doesn’t get into fights much, but if he really has something against you, he’ll bully you to know end.

• Loves fish, all types.

• Excessive skincare routine, like 30 steps.

• Will flirt with anything that breathes, very flirty.

• Best dressed out of everyone he’s friends with, but is oddly attracted to people who tend to not go over the top. Like more into comfy than nice.

• Favorite color is definitely light green or grey.

• In 3rd year he secretly has a crush on Fred Weasley because Fred winked at him once while passing him in the halls.

——————x——————x——————x——————x——————x

Lorenzo Berkshire as a boyfriend

• Would be a bit awkward with physical touch at the beginning of the relationship; unless you had something going on before the dating started.

• Boys you anything he sees you glance at, one look in that general direction and he’s in the checkout line.

• Would sneak up behind you and give you small kisses anywhere on your skin, neck, cheek, temple, jaw, etc’.

• If you aren’t a Slytherin would have you sit next to him at his house table anyways, if you are he would walk down with you and serve your food.

• Always invites you to come study with him in the library.

• Calls His partner Sweetheart, Sweetie, honey or love/lovey.

• The second he confirms you both love each other he’s planning your future, house, kids, pets, etc’.

• Stares at you randomly throughout the day.

• Always wants to be holding your hand. (I think he would have somewhat clammy hands, so when you let go he gets whiny.)

• When he gets whiny, be it in class or just hanging out he will want to cuddle you immediately, making sure you won’t leave and holding you in his arms.

• Likes to see you with his coat on, so his favorite month is winter just so he could give it to you.

——————x——————x——————x——————x——————x

His Red Flags 🚩

• Would feel so conflicted if his mother didn’t approve of you.

• He doesn’t like you talking to other guys (or girls).

• Hypocrite, he flirts with other people all the time; when you ask him to stop he says he will, but doesn’t.

• If he doesn’t like your friends will try to get you to stop hanging out with them.

• If you’re a muggle born, he would refuse to learn anything about muggles or lula want to meet your family.

• Hates you having friends that you’re super close to, like if he sees you and your best-friend since 1st year, holding hands or touching each other he would get really jealous.

• Gets jealous so easily.

• Most definitely has clammy hands.

——————x——————x——————x——————x——————x

-I don’t say anything about the characters sexuality, due to the fact I don’t know the gender of my audience.-

[physalian]

A Case Against “Redemption = Death”

“Redemption = Death” is, in my opinion, one of the laziest “telling not showing” cop-outs you can write, and it happens over and over and over again. It’s manipulative, it’s cheap, it kneecaps the character’s development, it undermines the meaning of a true redemption, and it promotes a message that some people are so evil, the *only* redemption for them is the ultimate sacrifice.

**Taking an aside here to plainly ignore religious connotations and focus on the success or failure of a satisfying character arc**

I hate this trope. I have never seen a flawless execution of this trope in its basest form: Evil bad guy is evil for 99% of their story, and in the 11th hour has an out-of-character realization that they’ve done wrong and sacrifices themself for the heroes, whom they don’t actually care about, for ~drama~.

Today’s writing advice is pretty straightforward: Please stop doing this. It tends to happen in action movies like the superhero genre, but also in action-heavy sci-fi and fantasy where rich character development is sacrificed for spectacle and cool battles. I love action movies, even the stupid ones, and I firmly believe that they can do better.

1. It’s manipulative

A malignant evildoer who shows zero remorse for their entire story, commits heinous acts of violence and abuse, who murders, steals, beats, cheats, betrays, and uses other characters does not earn any shed tears over their ultimate sacrifice.

Time and time again, the big bad will do a 180 and leave the protagonist distraught over how to react to this, often with lines like “maybe he was a hero all along,” or “you know he really wasn’t that bad”. (a la Snape before we all woke up and realized he's a whiny Nice Guy)

Nope. He was actually that bad, and his final act of terror was convincing you to give a damn about him and regret not being able to save him (and it is always male characters. It’s always men. Find me a story where it’s a woman and I will gladly read it and complain about her, too).

This character has only themselves to blame for their Tragic Backstory. They were never a tragic hero, they didn’t fall from grace. There was never any hope or expectation that they could do better, the hero isn’t even trying to redeem them, it just happens in an attempt to engineer depth where there isn’t any.

2. It’s cheap

A hastily-written “redemption” tips the author’s hand, showing that they didn’t plan for or can’t conceptualize how to fix the mess they’ve made. Now, maybe the villain dies in the last chapter of the book and the story has no room for the aftermath anyway—that’s fine. It’s only a problem when the villain gets an unfounded “he wasn’t so bad” reflection by the survivors to scribble a deeper meaning and message for the story in the final lap.

If you’re planning from the start to have your villain be “not that bad,” provide any evidence other than them deciding maybe they don’t want the world to burn as the clock on the nuke counts down to zero.

This would be like if Gandalf told Pippin Denethor was actually a decent guy as the man flings himself off Gondor's tallest tower after nearly burning his son alive.

3. It kneecaps the character’s potential

Character deaths, whether they’re permanent or not, are generally treated by the other characters as permanent and final in the moment. There’s tears, there’s funerals, there’s grief and regret over what could have been, what might’ve been, what should have been.

And all of that development goes straight to the surviving characters, not the one that died.

Your dead evildoer can’t prove they’re trying to do better once they’re dead. They can’t show their remorse, they can’t show how they planned to fix all their mistakes, they can’t follow through with choosing the path of “good”. They’re dead.

You killed them to avoid the hard work of having to write them as a good guy.

4. It undermines the meaning of a true redemption

Self-sacrifice is a noble end, but self-sacrifice because a character can’t imagine actually committing to the long and bumpy road of fixing all their mistakes is cowardice. The people they hurt are still suffering, the wrongs they committed still need answering for, the damage they’ve done still needs rectifying and dying leaves all that work to those who survive them.

They’ve done nothing to prove they’re worthy of redemption except to stop digging their hole deeper and at that point they’re not “redeemed” they’re only marginally defined as a “tragic hero” by the skin of their teeth, depending on what catastrophe they prevent with their death.

5. It argues that some people aren’t worth redeeming

Ironically, “redemption = death” proves the exact opposite of the case you’re trying to make. They die because they’re convinced they must, because not a single other character could either talk them out of it, or cared enough to show them death wasn’t the only option.

“Redemption” is only for those who everyone thinks aren’t worth redeeming. But he’s irredeemable! Is he? Or do you just want to see him punished and have zero faith that he can’t at least try to right his wrongs?

This would be like if Zuko showed up at the Western Air Temple and instead of becoming Aang's fire bending teacher, he died fighting Combustion Man or Azula in a blaze of glory, all because Katara would not budge from her "he's evil and always will be" stance.

Or, if Zuko died in the last agni-kai, taking Azula down with him, as if the story said "yeahhhhh, we just gotta go clean slate here and expunge the whole Fire Family, but hey, Zuko did stop Azula in his blaze of glory".

—

But what happens when “redemption = death” is actually satisfying? Aka, not a redeemed villain, just a tragic hero. So let’s look at a famous example: Darth Vader.

This is a character that checks two boxes: He has one pillar of light determined to save him, and he’s shown before his moment of sacrifice to have some remorse. It doesn’t come out of nowhere.

He’s not redeemed, though, because his one act of murder-suicide may end the war (ignoring the sequel trilogy) but doesn’t undo all the damage and lives lost and planets destroyed. He’s just a tragic hero.

Sometimes, however, this character knows the only way all the evil ends is with their death. They know they’re doomed because by their continued existence, evil persists, and they literally cannot live on to fix things because things will never be fixable so long as they’re still breathing. Or, they’re terminally ill and incurable through their own machinations with the Big Bad and will die no matter what they do, might as well go out swinging.

Greed, from Fullmetal Alchemist fits here. He spent more time as a reluctant good guy occasionally doing bad and selfish things because his essence is chained to a good guy, but he cannot survive the story, because by his very nature, he’s a piece of the main villain.

But even then, Greed’s redemption comes *before* he dies, we all already love his character, this is just the tragic icing on the cake. His realization that, in his final act, he becomes the most selfless character in the show—the antithesis of his entire being.

Your mid-redemption character redeems themselves as much as they can while they still breathe. They help the other heroes, they teach the team everything they know, they show their plans for a better future and have even built tools to help the survivors thrive. They’ve dreamed about being a part of this future that’s barred from them. They’ve fully understood and accepted the consequences of their actions. They understand that their final punishment is never living to see the paradise they nearly destroyed.

Even if they can’t change the world with their actions, they’ve done all the emotional and personal labor they can manage with those that they’ve hurt. They’ve made friends, allies, even romantic endeavors.

And when they die and the heroes mourn, they mourn the hero that this redeemed villain became, not who they imagined this villain could be if they tried, if they'd made different choices. At that point, redemption didn’t even equal death for them, redemption was the short road to recovery before the consequences of their actions finally caught up with them.

[bloody-bee-tea]

IntiMarch 2024 Day 20 - I can('t) take it

The prompt for this was "You're cute"

As soon as Satoru comes into Suguru’s room, he knows that he’s somehow upset. Suguru can read it in the way he holds himself, in the way he doesn’t barge in with his usual vigour and most of all he notices it by the way he doesn’t immediately start talking.

Suguru is sure that never happened before.

“What’s wrong?” He lowers his book, fixing his whole attention on Satoru, in case there’s something he has to do, some curse to kill, some butts to kick.

Suguru is down for anything, if only so it gets Satoru out of this funk.

“Suguru,” Satoru whines out and it’s enough to get him to relax.

If he can still use that particularly whiny voice then whatever is wrong with him can’t be life-threatening.

Satoru tends to go cold and serious when it’s life-threatening; he gets more ridiculous when his pride is hurt, so Suguru suspects the latter.

“You love me, right?” Satoru asks and Suguru’s heart jumps in his chest.

Satoru doesn’t mean it like that, never means it in a serious way, and yet—

“Of course I do,” Suguru gives back, maybe too truthful but Satoru is never picking up on that and today is no exception.

“And I’m so handsome,” Satoru goes on, walking over to where Suguru is propped up against the headboard of the bed.

“The handsomest,” Suguru dutifully agrees and that, too, is something he means.

He doubts there is anyone more handsome or more beautiful out there than Satoru.

“And I am so very smart.” Satoru pouts at him as he says it, and this is still somewhat serious because whatever Satoru is getting at has put him in a bit of a mood, so Suguru bites down on his smile and nods.

“Smarter than the adults around us, that’s for sure.” It’s not a lie, either; Satoru is very smart and while he doesn’t much care for classes and lessons and most of their teachers he always aces whatever test they throw at him.

“And I’m funny,” he finally says and drops down on the bed, his long body stretched out next to Suguru’s and that too makes his heart beat faster in his chest.

Satoru is always so free with his touches, so unselfconscious about his body and how he behaves and moves and it’s a danger to Suguru’s blood pressure.

“I’m always laughing, aren’t I?” Suguru wants to know and he very deliberately does not mention that no matter what Satoru says, it would always make Suguru at least smile.

As long as Satoru is around and talking to him, joking with him, Suguru will always be happy after all.

“What is this about?” Suguru finally asks when Satoru only lets out a long groan and he puts the book to the side now.

There’s no way he’ll get back to reading now, not when Satoru is making himself at home on his bed and Suguru would much rather pay attention to Satoru anyway. No book can hold a candle to how endlessly fascinating he finds Satoru.

“Shoko was being mean,” Satoru grumbles and scoots closer until he can bury his face in Suguru’s hip, hiding his displeasure away. “She was calling me stupid and ugly and annoying.”

Normally, Satoru stands above these things; Yaga has called him an annoying prick more times than Suguru can count, but this is Shoko.

Things are always different if people Satoru likes say these things.

“That was very mean of her,” Suguru agrees and scoots down on the bed, so he can sling his arm around Satoru, pull him up until his head rests on Suguru’s chest. “We’re going to have to make her apologise.”

“It was very mean,” Satoru agrees, his voice still small and hurt and Suguru fights the urge to press a kiss to his head. “Will you help me make her apologise?”

“You know I will,” Suguru immediately agrees, because if course he’s going to have Satoru’s back, even in this.

Shoko really can’t get away with making Satoru this sad.

“Shoko wasn’t right, was she?” Satoru asks after a moment, still sounding more hurt than Suguru would like. “Or serious. She was probably just joking. I mean—people like me, don’t they?”

“I wouldn’t go quite so far,” Suguru teasingly says, makes sure that his voice carries enough of it to let Satoru know that he doesn’t mean it at all, and he also tugs playfully on his hair.

“You’re being rude, too!” Satoru cries out, wrestling out of Suguru’s arm so he can flop down on top of Suguru and dig his pointy chin into his sternum. “Don’t be rude to me, too,” he whispers, the corners of his mouth turned down and Suguru smiles softly at him.

“I’m sorry,” he gives back and reaches out to card his fingers through Satoru’s hair, all the while hoping that he doesn’t notice just how fast his heart is beating in his chest.

“People do like you,” he then agrees because generally they truly do. As long as Satoru even cares a little bit what someone thinks about him, he turns up the charm and then there’s hardly anyone who is not at least a little enamoured with him. “And why shouldn’t they,” Suguru then goes on. “You’re cute, after all.”

There’s no teasing tone to his voice as he says this, because it’s the truth and Suguru can’t quite bear to tease Satoru about something like that but he was absolutely not prepared for the way Satoru goes bright red in the face, opening and closing his mouth like a fish and for a split second Suguru fears that there’s steam going to come out of his ears.

And then Satoru teleports away.

“What the fuck,” Suguru mutters, no longer being pressed into the mattress by Satoru’s reassuring weight and he shivers with Satoru’s missing warmth.

That sure as hell did not go how Suguru expected it to go—not that he expected much, to be honest—but it still stings to know that Satoru was desperate enough to get away from him to simply teleport.

Suguru will have to apologise the next time he sees him.

~*~*~

Satoru remains elusive.

Suguru is certain that he sees him every now and then but before he can even so much as get a glimpse of Satoru, he has already teleported away.

It’s starting to hurt, if Suguru is honest.

And with how desperately Satoru is avoiding Suguru, there’s only one thing he can do.

He needs to talk to Shoko.

“Oh, that face promises me a real good time,” she says as soon as Suguru walks into her office and he doesn’t even bother to try for a happier face. He’s fucking miserable without Satoru and it’s been two weeks of this now.

There’s nothing to be happy about.

“What’s going on?” Shoko asks and she sounds genuinely concerned and that alone is enough to show Suguru just how bad he must be looking.

“Have you talked to Satoru, lately?” he wants to know and Shoko narrows her eyes at him.

“Are you two fighting?” she demands to know and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Is that the reason why he won’t leave me the hell alone?”

“I—you could say that,” Suguru gives back and pushes a hand through his hair. He hasn’t bothered with putting it up today, too stressed out by the fact that today marks the two week mark of whatever kind of fight they are having.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure,” Suguru admits and heavily sits down on Shoko’s chair. “I said he’s cute and he teleported out on me. He’s been avoiding me ever since. I can’t even apologise.”

“He freaked out over a compliment?” Shoko asks for clarification and Suguru shrugs.

“Who knows what goes on in his head.”

“Geto, if he’s not pissing people off on purpose he’s literally always low-key flirting with everyone he meets. How can he not take a compliment in return?”

“I don’t know, Shoko, okay?” Suguru snaps at her and then immediately winces. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t meant to—it’s just really getting to me that he won’t even let me apologise to him.”

“What do you want me to do about this? You did come here for help, right?”

“I did.” Suguru nods. “I’m not sure, actually. Maybe just tell him that I want to apologise? That I’m sorry and that I won’t do it again?”

“And will you?”

“What?”

“Not do it again?” There’s a knowing gleam in her eyes and Suguru huffs out a breath. Of course Shoko knows what he’s helplessly in love with his best friend.

Former best friend, Suguru bitterly thinks as his heart hurts.

“Not if it means he’s going to avoid me like he is now. I’d rather die than go through another two weeks of this. I can take it if he doesn’t feel the same, or doesn’t want to hear it or whatever, I just—I need him to come back.”

“Alright,” Shoko decides and claps her hands. “I’ll tell him. No promises, though, you know the only person who can really make him do anything is you.”

“Thank you for at least trying,” Suguru whispers out and gets up to leave her to whatever it is she’s doing down here by herself all day long.

Now all he can do is wait and hope that Satoru will give him a chance to apologise.

~*~*~

It takes three days. Three long excruciating days until Satoru doesn’t go running when he spots Suguru and Suguru can’t help the surge of hope in his chest.

If only he gets to apologise, everything will be alright again.

Satoru waits until he’s closer before he nods towards Suguru’s room. “Can we—”

“Sure,” Suguru says and he feels awfully stiff around Satoru and he hates it with a passion.

They don’t speak until they are inside and the door is closed behind them but then Suguru can’t hold it in any longer.

“Listen, I just want to apologise,” he starts but his heart falls when Satoru shakes his head.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Suddenly, Suguru feels fragile. He hadn’t known that their friendship could be broken just like this, just by one measly comment, and the knowledge that it’s already too late is splitting him wide open.

“Oh, I see,” he manages to get out, blinking rapidly to get rid of the burning in his eyes and Satoru must notice that he’s close to breaking because he pushes a frustrated hand through his hair.

“That came out all wrong,” he mutters and then louder says: “There’s no need for you to apologise because you didn’t do anything wrong. There, that’s better.”

“I didn’t do—Satoru, you avoided me for two weeks! How can you say that I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“I—overreacted?” Satoru carefully offers and it just leaves Suguru confused.

“Overreacted? Over what?”

“You complimenting me,” Satoru admits and sits down on Suguru’s bed. “I’m not—very good at taking compliments. Or have people flirt with me.”

“You flirt with people all the time!”

“Yeah, but that’s different! It’s different when someone does it to me and with you it’s extra different.”

“Extra different,” Suguru repeats because that doesn’t make any sense at all.

“I flirt with people because it’s fun and it’s hilarious to see them flustered. But you—you mean it. You meant it when you said I’m cute and I—” Even just saying has Satoru go red in the face again and Suguru sits down on the floor.

“You were—embarrassed?”

“I—it was—”

“Why would you avoid me for that long over something like that?” Suguru wants to know and if at all possible Satoru’s face only goes redder.

He wrings his hands in his lap before he takes a deep breath and straightens up.

“Because I realised that I wanted you to mean it. I wanted you to find me cute. And handsome and smart and all the other things you said back then.”

Suguru’s next exhale is slightly shaky because—“Wanted? As in, you no longer want that?”

It would just be Suguru’s luck to miss his chance with Satoru, he thinks, somewhat resigned to his fate already, because of course someone as amazing as Satoru would never actually give him a chance.

“No, I do!” Satoru yells out and drops down from the bed so he sits right in front of Suguru. “I still want that. I want you to mean it,” he finishes, his voice quiet and he doesn’t quite manage to hold Suguru’s gaze. “It’s kind of scary how much I want that.”

Suguru slumps with relief, scooting closer to Satoru until he can drop his head down on his shoulder.

“I do. Think all those things about you. You’re cute and handsome and smart and funny and my favourite person in the entire world.”

Satoru’s breath stutters in his chest, Suguru can feel it, and when he peeks up at him, he’s making the same dumbfounded face he did when this entire mess started.

“You really can’t take a compliment, huh?” Suguru drily says and dares to flutter his lips over Satoru’s throat.

“I can take them just fine,” Satoru croaks out and shivers when Suguru’s laughs. “I just have a hard time taking them from someone who matters to me.”

“I matter, huh?” Suguru asks, though it’s mostly just to tease Satoru some more.

It’s more than obvious that Suguru matters to him after all.

“You matter so much to me,” Satoru breathes out and hides his face in Suguru’s hair. “Cause I’m in love with you and the thought that you might not mean it was very scary.”

It’s not often that Satoru admits that something is scaring him, so Suguru decides not to tease him about this.

“I’m in love with you, too,” he gives back, moving closer to Satoru’s throat so he can pepper it with kisses better. “In case that was still unclear.”

“I think I got the gist.” Satoru’s voice is high and breathy and it’s enough to make Suguru pull away, so he can cup Satoru’s face in his hands.

“Good,” Suguru decides and then leans in for a real kiss.

He swallows the sound Satoru makes right down but when Satoru almost climbs into his lap he can’t help the big smile. It makes kissing a little bit hard but Suguru wouldn’t have it any other way.

Not when it’s with Satoru.

[antianakin]

If you were in charge of the Star Wars Prequels how would you have written Anakin? (assuming the only thing you can't do is erase him from canon :P)

Would you learn into Anakin's evilness or try to make him more sympathetic?

Honestly? I don't have THAT much of an issue with Anakin's general characterization in the Prequel Trilogy. I think for the most part that Anakin is a really interesting character in the Prequels and pretty unique as far as villain origin stories and action heroes of the time tended to be written. The focus on Anakin as FEARFUL, as someone who CRIES a lot and is AWKWARD and honestly not suave or smooth AT ALL (unless he's giving himself over to darkness, generally) is actually a really interestingly novel choice to go for. And that unique aspect of him is, arguably, why Anakin was so despised in the Prequels for being "whiny" and "annoying" and people really did not vibe with this weird awkward dude as proto-Vader. Obi-Wan as the much more competent, smooth, suave character with all of the snarky one-liners comes off looking much better in comparison. Same with Padme, usually.

So I wouldn't actually change the CORE of Anakin, the journey he goes on and the way his vices tend to be shown. TCW has already done that, they've just replaced Anakin's less likable characteristics with Obi-Wan's much more affable personality. They gave him snarky one-liners, he's now suave and smooth and charming, etc. It's annoying and it's boring.

But there are two things that don't work for me that I WOULD change if I were capable of going back in time and influencing Lucas's mind towards certain rewrites.

One is that I would make his romance with Padme more believable. The problem with the romance in AOTC for me is that you can completely believe that Anakin would be into Padme, but it feels a lot more difficult to understand why Padme is into Anakin in return. Especially after he murders an entire village of people down to the last child (we'll come back to this one). So we need to be told more WHY Padme is so into him when he is this weird, awkward, whiny manchild. Like, sure, he's pretty, but being pretty isn't enough to explain why Padme is willing to jeopardize her entire career to marry him by the end of the film.

So Padme either needs to be more corrupt, more angry herself, more connected to this part of Anakin that desires power, or they need to show us a better genuine connection. One of the things from the extended/deleted scenes from AOTC that I think could've helped with this is the bits where Padme mentions she had thought she'd be a wife and a mother by now and we see how close she is to her own family when she takes Anakin there. We know how close Anakin was to his mother and I think it would've been REALLY easy to use that as an easy connection. You could even help along the next movie by having Anakin mention that when he was a kid, he'd always sort-of wanted a big family. He didn't HATE that it was just him and his mom obviously, but it had been a sort of dream of his that one day they'd be free and he'd find a beautiful wife and have a big family for Shmi to dote on later in life. This gives Anakin and Padme a shared dream that neither of them is allowed to pursue due to their chosen careers. They've both sacrificed a desire for a family in favor of duty to the galaxy so when they get together later, you can kind-of understand why. No one else gets it but each other, etc.

The second thing I would change is the Tusken Massacre. I think that going as far as completely massacring the entire village is too far too soon. This is something that works only if you as the viewer don't truly see the Tuskens as equal to humans like Shmi or a people like the Jedi. The Tuskens aren't QUITE animals maybe, but they're also just savages who torture innocent women to death, so their deaths aren't sad for THEIR sake, the massacre is sad because of what it represents for Anakin - it's the beginning of the end. And obviously from a modern viewpoint, this really doesn't work anymore, especially with the way the Tuskens are being written these days. It also feels a little redundant with Order 66. It's not as impactful that he murders Jedi children when we already saw him murder Tusken children in the last movie. Baby murder is baby murder, there's no escalation in the evil he commits aside from sheer numbers I guess.

So I would probably have Anakin either choose to just leave the village quietly without killing anyone, or have him stop at just the guards/men and leave the women/children alive and either way he admits to Padme that he WANTED to kill them all and only just barely stopped himself. This also helps the romance aspect in that now you don't have to figure out why Padme is super chill with marrying a MASS BABY MURDERER and her moral code is a lot less gray. If he only killed the people who attacked him in the village or didn't kill anyone at all but just WANTED to, then you can dismiss it a lot easier. The rage is sympathetic and understandable and relatable, but Anakin is still mostly in control of himself. Padme can say that she's felt the same rage and not acted on it, so Anakin is the same. She can insist he would never murder Jedi younglings to Obi-Wan in the next film without sounding like an idiotic hypocrite.

(There's obviously a LOT of other issues with the Tusken Massacre in terms of how the Tuskens are written and presented in this film that could be rewritten to be a lot better and make the Tuskens more sympathetic, etc etc, but that's not really what you're asking me about and I'm not necessarily the right person to speak to that anyway.)

[amazingmsme]

how do you think the npmd nerds/whatever hatchetfield characters you’re in the mood to write for, try to like (subtly or not to subtly) hint at wanting tickles 👀

Oh I’m about to go HAM with this one! Buckle in cause I got a feeling it’s gonna be long, but imma try to be succinct. Also: FIRST ASK OF THE YEAR

Grace: will straight up go ask one of her friends to tickle her, the absolute mad woman

Ruth: she’s so damn touch starved so she’s in a lee mood more often than not. She gets more whiny & clingy with her friends & blushes a lot easier than normal

Richie: he cranks up the annoying friend routine up to an 11, teasing Pete & Ruth & cracking stupid jokes. His leg shakes a lot when he’s in a lee mood because he’s got a lot of pent up energy

Peter: stutters a lot & tends to stare at people’s hands a lot. He stretches a lot when he’s in a lee mood. I’m talkin’ arms all the way over his head, back arched, & he makes a high pitched groaning noise just to make sure he gets someone’s attention

Bonus Round! aka everyone else I feel like writing

Max: gets a lot more hyper & rowdy with his friends & tickles them in hopes they’ll get him back

Alice: suffers in silence & acts all grumpy until Deb catches on

Lex: gets real cuddly & clingy with Ethan & not so subtly tries to move his hands to her tickle spots so he’ll “accidentally” brush against a sensitive spot

Ethan: purposefully makes himself all mopey & emo to entice Lex to wreck his shit. Puppy eyes to the max

Paul: clams up, stutters a lot more than usual & jumps at pretty much any sudden movement in his direction & generally is much gigglier than normal

Bill: drops what he thinks are subtle hints & is a lot more affectionate with his coworkers. A hug to Paul or Charlotte, an arm around Ted’s shoulders, ruffles their hair. Is overall very smiley & playful

Charlotte: gets really cuddly & giggly. Usually it’s whenever she’s alone with Ted so she’ll lay in positions where her tickle spots are stretched out & vulnerable & calls his name over & over. Or if he’s really oblivious she gives up & starts a tickle fight

Ted: ASSHOLE TO THE MAX!!! Seriously, when Ted Spankoffski’s in a lee mood, everyone knows about it because he makes it everyone’s problem. He can never bring himself to ask for it, he can’t even admit it to himself that he likes it, so he just becomes So Insufferable until someone decides to do something about it

Tom: doesn’t even realize that’s what he’s been wanting until Becky gently grabs his arm & asks “want me to tickle you?” (He’s been silently staring at the ground and rubbing his neck/scratching his beard for the past 10 minutes)

Becky: she shyly will bring up a memory from high school with Tom & mentions how he used to tickle her. Not near as subtle as she thinks she is, but hey, it always works

Linda: will walk right up to her husband or whoever she’s having an affair with & loudly proclaim “what does a woman have to do around here to be appreciated?” & basically lays on the guilt trip. But what did you expect from miss gaslight gatekeep girlboss herself?

BONUS BONUS!

Dan Reynolds: sneak attacks the news crew to be funny but really he just wants someone to return the favor but no one ever does because he’s THE Dan Reynolds!

[expired-monster-craft-smp]

Leon Kennedy headcanons part 2nd

- Due to the lack of control in his life, Leon seeks control in other things such as his diet, his daily routine, weekly schedule, and even what he buys

- Gets paid a lot since he works for the government but rarely uses it

- He literally lives in a shitty and small apartment that isn’t decorated and sleeps on a bare mattress on the floor

- Cannot relax like ever unless he’s alone in his apartment, but he’s close to relaxed if he’s alone with a trusted person like Chris, Claire, Jill, and Rebecca. Hunnigan would be included but they usually only meet to discuss a new mission for Leon

- Doesn’t listen to new music, but will listen to recommendations from friends and new releases from bands/artists he already listens to

- Bro canonically listens to dad rock and metal and was born in the late 70’s so his music taste can be…interesting

- I know a lot of people say that he would have one-night stands or whatever but not only is this man the most awkward person ever and Cannot Pull, he’s also severely paranoid and closed-off around unknown people, drunk and sober. He most likely doesn’t get any action whatsoever

- He’s super sweet towards kids. Just has the biggest soft spot for them and can’t stand to say no to them 99% of the time

- He gives off Midwest energy so bad, he probably spent a significant amount of his childhood living there (if we’re going off his original backstory n shit he probably got moved there while in foster care and remained in that area until he aged out)

- He can’t stand change (autism and desperation for control) and it’s why his hairstyle remains the same. It’s one of the few constants in his life and he physically cannot have his hair in any other style

- He’s an alcoholic in the sense that he’s almost always drinking. He doesn’t really do binge drinking, just a constant flow of alcohol in his system throughout the day

- Dissociates a lot. After Spain, he was stuck in a dissociative episode for over 3 months, just going on autopilot

- Prefers off-brand items over brand names, mostly due to growing up without a lot of money. It’s more comforting

- Hates being dirty or smelling bad. He showers religiously and throughly, always making sure to apply cologne afterwards even if he’s just going to bed

- No phone case. It would be helpful since he has pretty big hands and long fingers but he just lets his phone rawdog the world

- Leon is a trans man !! Government pays for his T shots and paid for his top surgery (though it was mostly so they could make Leon feel more indebted to them)

- Leon is just so extremely touch-starved it’s actually incredibly sad. Even if it’s just a medic touching him to patch him up, his skin prickles and his eyes sting

- Doesn’t mind sugary things, but if he’s going to drink soda, it has to be diet. He tends to stick with water and unsweetened juice, though

- If he’s going to use pet-names for someone (such as Chris perchance), he sticks with “baby”, “sweet thing”, “doll”, and “sweetheart”. He doesn’t usually use pet-names though, mostly because he thinks it sounds awkward coming from his mouth

Chreon stuff because homosexuality

- Leon absolutely adores hugging, snuggling, and cuddling with Chris. The man is bigger than him and makes the perfect pillow

- Finds it hot that Chris can easily manhandle him

- Favorite thing to do is cuddle with Chris on the couch or lay his head on Chris’ thighs or chest and watch movies with him

- Instead of rings, they have matching watches (canon)

- Leon can get needy and whiny when sleepy, especially after a mission, and will cling to Chris like a leech

- He feels comfortable and safe enough with Chris to relinquish control to him. He knows his husband will keep him safe and has his comfort in mind

- Claire had a fucking field day with them when she found out they were together. Literally got teased relentlessly, and she jokingly gave her blessing

- Leon found it amusing when she gave Chris the shovel talk, not him

- Leon teases Chris about his smoking habit but Chris never really does the same with Leon’s drinking, knowing it’s a sensitive subject and instead just makes sure his husband doesn’t drink too much

May post another part, who knows?

[raviollies]

nightmare, pain, secret, and wound for blythe, raha, and lorelai, please!!! (for the not-so-nice OC asks)

Here they are! Enjoy :)

nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?

Blythe very much has long standing melancholy over the fact that unlike Raha, she is eternal. She is not mortal, and one day he will fade away, and she will remain. She wonders if she will become a Hag at that point, if she will give in to the loss and turn to the Faewild to be with those as unchanging as herself. Raha is her first and only love, so the concept of losing him is a horror she doesn't want to consider.

Raha fears losing the party members, as they are his only friends. He doesn't enjoy being in cities, interacting with others and his only connection to people is the party. Without them, he genuinely wouldn't quite know what he is living for even.

Lorelai fears losing control and attacking others in a blood frenzy, in hunger, consuming her (similar to Raha) only friends, to commit her cardinal sin once more. She wouldn't know what to do with herself, and probably wish to embrace the sun.

pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

BLYTHE IS A BABY - She does not have high pain tolerance at all. She rarely gets hurt and even the small injuries she tends to get whiny about. She also does not do a lot of physical manual labour, so even with small injuries she will dramatically toss her hand over her head and proclaim someone else must carry her things.

Raha has high pain tolerance as he is quite used to being injured with his numerous scars from his contracts. He tends to downplay his injuries and not voice any complains often leading to others having to forcibly sit his ass down and patch him up (That's what happens when you're traveling alone for about 150 years)

Lorelai actually almost doesn't feel any pain at all. The only things that can make her feel pain is holy magic or the sun (The only time she has gotten injured over the course of the campaign is when Eirwen accidently splashed holy water over her hands, which took a while to heal as Vampire regeneration is much slower when it comes to such forces). So I guess she has very high pain tolerance? If that counts?

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

Blythe has very rarely gotten physically hurt, usually limited to just small wounds that she heals with magic right away. I wouldn't say she has many emotional/mental wounds outside of Theta - she very rarely holds any care for people outside of the few that she cares for, and they have not

Raha is very much covered in scars, majority of them inflicted by monsters he's hunted through out the years, but the very first scars he got was when he was a child and his village was raided and subsequently destroyed. That is where he got his face scar and signature ear nic, was from that event, when he got trapped under a collapsed building when it collapsed during the raid.

Emotionally, the razing of the village was only the start, and the distrust and rejection from the Elves from a different village that took in the refugees, arguably deeper scars, as it left him feeling isolated and lacking any feelings of belonging to a community. After that he avoided not just humans and elves, finding no kinship with either. Neither elf, nor human.

Lorelai is haunted by her rebirth as a vampire, both physically and mentally. As I mentioned, she was turned into a spawn by her father, which does mean she has a permanent scar on her neck, and had killed him when she became a full blooded vampire. The wound on her neck remains a permanent reminder, and is the oldest and only

secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

Blythe is a big fan of bad erotic novels (think booktok.)

Raha has a thing for stockings and heels.

Lorelai doesn't think Tarrasques exist.

[ghostieagere]

do you have any headcanons about how the little ghouls deal with being sad?

oooo this is a tricky one, anon !!! (/pos) i have lots and lots of thoughts about this and how each of the littles deal with different types of sadness, but for the sake post-length (and keeping everything fairly light-hearted) i'll just stick with a few headcanons <3

under the cut for length !

rain cries a lot. they can't really help it, it's part of their water ghoul nature, but that doesn't mean it's ever very fun :( they also tend to get muddled up between their languages, so their caregivers know to prepare themselves for english or french to come out of little rainy's mouth when they're upset. but yes, when they're sad, they know they need to go and find a caregiver (if they're not with one already) and ask for a sippy cup of water, a little snack, and a lot of cuddles. and that usually helps them feel a bit less sad, depending on what made them upset in the first place

dew is a bit of a tricky one for me to pin down :0 i don't think he's much of a crier, but he does get a bit whiny if he's upset. being sad or upset also usually makes him quite overtired, so his caregivers know that a quick nap is usually enough to get him feeling a little bit better, and at that point (if he's big enough) he can do his best to explain what's happened that made him sad. he does also throw the occasional tantrum if he's feeling overwhelmed by all his emotions, but a teether to chew on, something else to fidget with and a cuddle in steady arms can help him calm down again and bring him a bit further away from the sads

aeon tends to have meltdowns when they're feeling sad. their emotions get a bit too much for them to handle and the only options when they're small is to shut off or go into overdrive. whoever's with them in that moment will try and get rid of anything that might be causing aeon distress (whether that's other people in the room, or clothing that they're trying to pull off because it feels bad against their skin). the caregiver will try and wrap aeon in their arms to keep them safe from their own flailing arms. this usually helps calm them down more quickly because the grounding feeling of being surrounded by a comforting presence can usually be something good for aeon to focus on

mountain hides when he's upset. even when he's regressed, he still has the belief that he's not supposed to be sad or upset, so he hides himself away in teeny tiny cubby holes until someone comes and finds him. once he's found, he'll be reassured that he's not a burden for being upset, that everyone gets upset, and mountain is allowed to ask for help if he wants or needs it. after this reminder, he usually asks for a drink (apple juice) and/or a snack (cut up peaches) with sign language because being upset can often make him lose his words, but once he's with his caregiver and he's got something in his tummy, he usually starts feeling a lot better

aurora doesn't tend to have many big, bad emotions when she's regressed, so if she's sad it's usually because she's fallen down and scraped her knee or if she's not feeling very well. if she's scraped her knee, by the time she's got a hello kitty bandaid on it and cumulus has pressed a soft, healing kiss over the bandaid, aurora is usually ready to go out and play again, all sadness gone. but if she's sick, she'll stay feeling sad and not very good until she's all better. when she's sick though, her caregivers are always ready to provide her with hugs, bedtime stories and warm soup galore !!

[bellysoupset]

enjoy the break but know you are missed! If you feel like answering a short ask about your OCs, would you talk about sleeping habits? Given that mine are crap, lol. Who sleeps deeply, who doesn’t? Who functions okay on little sleep and who is a mess when tired? And what are their favorite sleep places/positions?

As always, thank you!

Lis, I'm not on break!! 😭

I'm gonna be a little less around, because I'm in the middle of two huge irl things happening, but I'm definitely not on hiatus! (but thank you anyway 💛)

Sleeping habits! Mine are also crap, we're on the same boat. I'm a "sleeps 3-4 hrs a night and is fine" type of person and one day this will kill me.

Jonah: Gets cranky and (even more) quiet when he's sleepy. People don't really notice this change, but both Leo and Wendy know it. Needs six hours to work properly, but will happily take 8-9 hours if he's able. Normal sleep, not light sleep, nor super heavy. Mild noises, like JD, won't wake him up, but Leo speaking/coughing definitely will. Barely snores, but sometimes he talks when sleeping.

Leo: Gets SUPER cranky when he's sleepy and its highly noticeable. He's a heavy sleeper, so once he falls asleep its a chore to wake him up. He has 20 alarms. Needs at least 8 hours of sleep and whenever he's forced to run on less than that he's extra annoyed about everything. Only place he won't fall asleep is work (too aware), but at home? Around their friends? He'll fall asleep on anything and anyone. JD could climb all over him and he wouldn't even stir. He snores lightly, but not much.

Bella: Bell gets cranky for any reason, lmao. Hungry? Cranky. Sleepy? Cranky. It's not a lot, but it definitely makes her whiny. Lucky everyone else, she'll sleep anywhere. Standing, on a chair, someone's couch, on Luke's back if he's carrying her, in any position. She's notorious for hogging blankets. Needs 6 hours of sleep, no more, no less. Will throw an alarm across the room if it's pestering her. She's got normal sleep like Jon, not too heavy, not too light.

Wendy: Wendy never looks sleepy. She's gonna be hyper chatting and then simply turn off, like someone manually disabled her. Needs around 5 hours of sleep, but those 5 hours are super heavy sleep. The world could end and she wouldn't even stir.

Luke: He gets clingy for any reason and sleep is no different. Loves to cuddle. Needs his 8 hours of sleep, but doesn't tend to get cranky, just more sensitive? It's easier to hurt his feelings if he's tired. A heavy sleeper, normally Bell spends her late nights talking with her DnD party and online friends and he'll sleep right through it. Hair pets will put this man to sleep in 1 minute flat. Snores, but not loudly. Very much the type to take up the whole bed.

Vince: Suuuper light sleeper, he'll wake up over any reason. He needs his 8 hours of sleep, but he doesn't get cranky, he gets headachy and just Feeling Bad if he's running low on sleep. Back during exams season he'd push himself to study and just look very pale and drained. Vince doesn't need an alarm clock to wake up.

Max: Heavy sleeper, but doesn't sleep much. 3-4 hours a night, but those are dead hours, nothing can wake him up. Tends to stir and kick, even mumble on his sleep. If he doesn't get those 3-4 hours he gets furious. If you wake him up mid sleep you better have a damn good reason.

[sukibenders]

Rewatching TVD, seasons one and two, it's always been kind of weird when people say that Elena was selfish and whiny during these seasons. Now, I can't speak for past that (though I think that's largely on the shows poor characterization that impacted many others), but in the first two, she's nothing but selfless---from standing up to vampires even when she was just a human to her willing to sacrifice herself for her friends, she's anything but selfish. And whiny, I won't lie, tends to be so misused especially towards characters, often female, who display trauma (eg. Katara) and then are often met with said trauma being compared to other characters. While others in the TVD verse have experienced traumatic moments in their lives, everyone processes it differently and it definitely shouldn't be compared. But also: imagine your parents died in an accident and you are left adjusting to it, then your boyfriend and his brother ends up being a vampire, a new wave of supernatural enters your life and, often times, effects you and your friends, only to then find out that you are also tied to a supernatural aspect that involves you, and some of those you care about, dying. I don't know, but if that were me I'd be a little whiny too.

Also, many of the things that happen aren't even by Elena's know-how or agreed by her. Her friends often take matters into their own hands, especially under the guise of protecting her, and often leave her out because they know fully well that she will risk herself to save them if came down to it (eg. when she willingly handed herself over to Elijah and, in response, Damon had Bonnie spell her [Elena] in her house to prevent her from doing so again).