#but it was galling to young me

[anneslifeinchrist]

British Friend: What do you plan to do about your election? Me: Move to Europe. British Friend: Fair.

[mollyrolls]

omg i forgot to tell you guys but i was fully dying last night roommate storytime

for context: my roommate, let’s call her cece, is the most cliche tiktok theatre kid girl you could ever imagine. we did random roommates so we don’t have that much in common; she likes to go out to clubs and frats and shit and i spent my night last night doing a puzzle. dichotomy of man

anyways, i was back in the room getting ready to gts and she comes BURSTING into the room and immediately starts stripping 😭😭 i’m like “hi cece….whatcha doing..” and she jumps a foot in the air bc she didn’t see me. keep in mind i am not doing anything secretive or hiding, like i’m just standing there.

she starts going on this crazy tangent abt how she’s a horrible person and is abt to do this horrible thing and i immediately clock that she is drunk off her ass 😭 she’s also just standing there in her bra and underwear and i am looking so hard at the ceiling bc wtf am i supposed to do in that situation

and idk if i misheard her but i swear she said to me “i’m going to fuck my best friends boyfriend” 😀���� she’s also changing into like a lacy babydoll??? like hello!!!!??

so i’m thinking : ok this girl has been on a self sabotaging streak recently (another story for another day) and she is in no position to be doing anything like that rn so i guess it’s my job to talk her out of doing this disastrous thing

so i say “cece don’t fuck your best friends boyfriend. that’s crazy.” and she goes “nononono not fucking, eye fucking. i eye fuck everyone when i’m drunk.” which i can confirm bc she was doing it to me at this exact moment, i am still staring at the ceiling

so i’m like ok fine that’s ur prerogative as long as ur not compromising urself do what u want. but she’s conscious enough to know that if she keeps eye fucking this guy her best friend is going to be paranoid abt it?? and like have a horrible night?? but she’s not gonna stop!!!??? whatever

and then this is where i start dying bc she starts comparing herself to ME 😭😭😭😭

she’s like “ugh molly you’re so cute and wholesome, like spending ur night with ur game group and ur puzzle ugh i want to be like youuuuu” full drunk girl whining and like spinning around and i straight up had to bite my fist

bc i was doing the aforementioned puzzle bc she had sexiled me abt 2 hrs before

but she’s in this like playboy cover lingerie set going BACK OUT to her friends room, full sprinting across our room bc she keeps forgetting shit, has not said a coherent sentence once, and is talking abt how i’m a cute little wholesome person and she wants to be like me. i feel like i’m tripping on something

and then this is the best part i’m quoting this verbatim

“and while i’m about to go do this HORRIBLE thing because i’m a HORRIBLE person YOUREEEE gonna be in here in the room probably writing some cute fun story which by the way you should probably post on AO3 bc if i ever figure out how to work AO3 i bet i’d find ur stuff and i bet it’s be so good but i’d never tell you i found ur stuff bc i wouldn’t know but i would know because you look like you’d be a good writer okay BYEEEEE!”

and then she slams the door and is gone until 3 am. this was in a span of abt 4 minutes

[navree]

Let's be honest, and I say this with full offense, Lucerys Velaryon is the Archduke Franz Ferdinand of the Dance of the Dragons. He is meant to be a sacrificial lamb to kick off the entire war proper. If we had gotten a full season of development with him like we did with the younger cast in Game of Thrones, I guarantee more people would've felt something. The only reason I personally feel bad is from a baseline level of empathy, because he was a child who was placed in an unwinnable situation due to his mom being completely irresponsible with him and his brothers.

However…

The comparison between Lucerys and Aemond is no contest. Love him or hate him, Aemond has an actual personality and goals when we first meet him. There's enough dimension in Aemond as a child to showcase the potential for sympathy between him and Jace at the funeral, a scene they didn't need to put in, but they did, which emphasizes his own innocence. Even before he breaks bad fully in S1E10, he's still far more compelling to watch due to the number of scenes allocated to him and his dynamic with other people.

This is where you and I are going to disagree just a bit, because Lucerys does do something in S1E07 and S1E08. He gouges out the eye of a family member and petulantly whines that he “didn’t do anything!” when confronted with the possibility of getting in trouble for it, then years later has the nerve and complete lack of sense to giggle at the person he permanently maimed only hours after his legitimacy was publicly called into question (again) and resulted in a murder. The narrative (perhaps unintentionally) glosses over these moments in favor of portraying him as good, whereas if you read between the lines, you can see that as being an oversimplification. The problem is that because S1 was truncated, secondary characters like Lucerys don’t receive screentime dedicated to portraying anything other than a single personality trait. Unfortunately, because of his role in the text and the way it was adapted for television, there was never a chance that Lucerys would be interesting.

I don't even have anything to add, this is just objectively correct.

[nomairuins]

read asoue to weeman as a bedtime story he liked it YAYYYY

[yandere--stuck]

Bad Idea, Right? (Yandere!Stanley Pines x Reader)

Stan was stupid. Stupid, irrational, impulsive, selfish, arrogant, aggressive. A liar, a traitor, a cheat, a thief. Everything everyone has ever said about him was true, and he had the gall to try to convince anyone otherwise. The town, his family, you, even himself. 

But this, this right here, had cemented the facts. Stanley Pines was a monster who didn't care about anyone but himself. Not really. He'd finally fucked up bad enough. Dug a hole so deep that even he couldn't crawl out of it.

God. He had his face in his hands, rubbing the skin in frustration. How would he get out of this? Could he? Was it really too late?

With a sigh, Stan looked up. He sat in Ford's underground laboratory, having taken a seat in front of the desk overlooking the portal. He turned to look at you - still asleep in the bed Stan had dragged down here long before he'd enacted his plan.

The guilt made his stomach turn. The guilt in knowing that, really, this wasn't impulsive. This was planned.

He couldn't help it. Or maybe that's what he told himself so he could go through with it. He should've kept his boundaries up. He should've chased you off. He should have never hired you in the first place! 

Ugh, but it wasn't like Stan wanted this to happen! How was he supposed to know he'd end up falling for you? Look, maybe if you hadn't been so chummy and sweet to him, trying to make him come out of his shell and lower his guard, acting all cute and like you knew you had him wrapped around your little finger and… No, no, this was all wrong. This wasn't your fault. This was all on him.

You were just a nice person. You had been a good and helpful employee, and then, as you grew to know each other more, a good friend. He just found himself magnetized to you. He loved cracking jokes and just talking with you, drinking in your affection and attention like a man dying of dehydration. And not to mention how good you were with the kids! The fact that they liked and looked up to you only further instilled his fondness for you.

It was almost embarrassing how smitten he was with you. God, it made him feel like a young man again, even long after he should've called off love for good, considering all his failed marriages. He could only hope it wasn't obvious, especially considering what he'd done now. He at least couldn't recall a time when he'd referred to you as a honey-wasp-kitten-baby.

Stan found himself wanting you to depend on him. To be your hero. To take care of you. And now look at what he'd done. You were an innocent victim of an obsessive freak. You had opened your heart to him and found it in you to care about this old scumbag, and this was how he repaid you.

Dipper and Mabel had gone off doing something with Wendy and her friends in the evening. He'd been able to push Soos out of the shack early enough after closing. No witnesses. Anything could have happened on your walk home, after all.

It had been easy to insist you stay for dinner. And it'd been even easier to mix all sorts of shit into your drink with you none the wiser. There was a reason he didn't bring up his past around you.

A sudden whimper startled him from his thoughts, the man’s posture going ramrod straight for a moment before scrambling to your side. Concern was etched into his features as he watched your face scrunch up as you came to.

Your vision swam, the room above you was spinning as you awoke. You could swear at least four Stans circled above you, just as unfocused as everything else - so much so that it hurt just to keep your eyes open.

Your eyes fell shut as you let out a groan. “...Stan?”

You wouldn't know how Stan's heart nearly leapt from his chest, hearing you say his name like that.

His hands immediately closed around yours, giving them a squeeze. “Yeah, yeah, it's me. I'm right here. I'm right here, sweetheart.”

The pet name tasted like bile in his mouth. As if he deserved to call you that. 

“Wha’ happened,” You slurred. “I feel sick…”

A hand clamped over his mouth. His stomach did a flip. God, he was gonna be sick himself. First, he ruined his brother's life, then his own, and now he was ruining yours. That's so like him. This was so like him.

“Yeah,” Stan started, almost breathless. “You're sick, honey. But, I'm gonna take care of you, okay? Everything’s gonna be alright.”

His heart skipped a beat when you didn't reply. Pressing a finger to the pulse point on your throat, he held his breath and listened to the frantic beating of his own heart. Then, he exhaled in relief. Just sleeping. Of course.

Stan stood above you for a moment, looking over you. He could turn back now. He could bring you back upstairs and let you sleep on the couch. In the morning, he could fake being ill and blame it on his cooking. You could go home, he’d give you time to sleep it off and everything would go back to normal and you'd have no idea!

Then, Stan sighed. He could do all that. He could do it right now. But, he wouldn't. Because he didn't want to. He had wanted you right here, and he had you. No amount of guilt would ever make him give you up.

Stan leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

This was just who he was. And it may be his fault, but you needed him now. He needed to be responsible for you. He needed to take care of you. He needed to be your hero. He needed to be needed by you.

And that's just what he'd do.

[spiderfreedom]

based twiggy

TWIGGY & WOODY ALLEN My Generation (2017) dir. David Batty

[dadvans]

when I want to run away (I drive off in my car) [bucktommy]

Chimney comes over with an armful of DVDs. Mandated brother-in-law break-up bonding time. Buck is pretty sure that isn’t a thing, at least not the kind that Chimney seems to be suggesting with what are discernibly all romcom titles. Buck is pretty sure Chimney should be taking him out and getting him wasted and encouraging him to get laid, but then again he’s friends with Tommy too so there might be some allegiance at play here.

He groans when Chimney puts on Say Anything.

“What, you actually know a movie made before 2012?”

“Tommy loves this one,” Buck replies. There had been a showing at repertory cinema in July and Tommy had dragged them both to escape the afternoon heat. It had been… sweet. There had maybe been three other people in the place who ignored them in the back row, making out like teenagers.

“Yeah, he’s always been a secret softie,” Chimney says.

“I’d say you should be over at his place with these,” Buck continues, flipping through the titles. Love Actually. The Proposal. Crazy, Stupid, Love. “These are actually his favorites. Wait, was I your second choice?”

“What? No,” Chimney says, but he sounds kind of cagey about it.

“He’s probably too busy cliff diving or BASE jumping.” Buck drops the DVDs. “He was the one who dumped me, remember? I don’t think he’s too hung up to need a chick flick movie marathon.”

“Now that is not true. Secret softie, remember? He’s hurting as much as I’ve ever seen, he just doesn’t wear it on his sleeve like some people.” Chimney gives him a very pointed look. “I bet he stood outside your door a half hour after he left hoping you’d chase after him, feeling like a total idiot.”

That’s new. “Did he tell you that?”

Chimney shrugs. “Maybe not verbatim, but he may have let something slip in a moment of total weakness.”

Buck snorts. “So, what are you doing over here with me and these then?”

“I was maybe hoping I could inspire you into some of your usual Buck heroics,” Chimney admits, then has the gall to look offended when Buck twists to stare at him, confused. “What? I’m a meddler. I notoriously meddle. C’mon, he said some things he wishes he could take back, but maybe he’s not as confident as you give him credit for. He’s a romcom guy. He could use a little woo-ing too, you know. Someone who makes him feel like he’s worth fighting for. A big gesture! Not—not moving in or anything, but just—you see what I’m saying here?”

Buck stares at young John Cusack paused on his TV screen and smiles to himself. “Yeah, I think I might.”

He spends the rest of the day off his couch driving through half the pawn shops in Glendale before he finds himself, sun setting at his back, outside Tommy’s house. He parks between Tommy’s truck in the drive and walks down the sidewalk where Tommy’s kitchen window is lit up and open.

Tommy comes outside thirty seconds later to the sound of Peter Gabriel blasting out of the second hand stereo Buck’d finally found with an aux input at St. Vincent de Paul’s. His mouth twitches as he crosses his arms before he coughs and tucks his head down, briefly.

“Really?” He asks when he blinks back up at Buck, eyes wet like the last time Buck saw him: hope there, fleeting, wanting so badly to swim to the surface and stay. “Wait, did you plug your phone into that thing?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, loud enough over the music the whole neighborhood can probably hear him. “I don’t know how to burn CDs.”

Tommy’s smile finally cracks through, and he nods before taking several careful steps across his dead lawn, feet bare, so he can get two tentative hands on Buck’s hips. “Well, if you want to come inside,” he says, “I can show you.”

[giuseppe-yuki]

feathers

alex albon x cockatiel shapeshifter! reader

w.c.: 1.2k

warnings: one suggestive comment

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: you annoy alex; ft. james vowles

picture credits from pinterest :)

the parc ferme was packed with people as you fluttered around alex’s head, feathers swaying in the wind. he wasn’t hard to follow, considering his tall 6’1 figure and unmistakable forest green aa23 hoodie. the crowds parted like moses and the red sea as he crossed, recognizing him as 1 of the 20 drivers on the grid. from your birds-eye view, you were pretty sure you saw zak efron five meters away from you next to the red bull garage and scotty james hovering around daniel’s blue vcarb next door.

nobody batted an eye at your presence- they all assumed you were just one of the many albon pets. 

chittering, you land on alex’s shoulder and give him a few hard pecks with your beak, ripping out a few strands of his bleached hair. you giggle internally- he was so easy to annoy when you were in cockatiel form. 

“hey!” he protests, stopping in his tracks front of the aston martin garage. he raises his hand, about to forcefully push you off his shoulder for being mean. before alex is able to, he spots two young fans, sporting fernando alonso caps, looking at him. not wanting to be labeled as “alex albon the bird assaulter,” he slowly lowers his hand, and instead converts it to an awkward wave. to avoid another awkward situation, he takes off running towards his original destination, the williams garage, but not before shooting a glare at you. 

when you arrive at the williams garage, you find logan standing in front as well. alex waves his hand in greeting and you chirp in a greeting.

“took you long enough,” logan quips, smiling. “james called for you a while ago!” 

“well, i would have gotten here quicker if this cockatiel would stop being irritating!” alex says, gesturing towards you. turning his head towards you, he places a kiss on top of your feathery little head. “you’re kinda lucky that i love you, or else i would probably have donated you to the zoo!” he jokes. 

for the second time that evening, you give peck his head, hard.

logan laughs at the interaction in front of him. “if you’d like, i know a hawk that can act as ‘animal control’ for you! she’s back at home in miami right now, though.”

the gall of this man! you know logan is joking, but still, you hop off of alex’s shoulder and purposely fly at logan’s face, flapping your feathers in the direction of his eyes. 

“okay, okay, okay,” logan laughs, trying to cover his face, “tell your girlfriend to stop attacking me or else i’m sending my girlfriend after her when you guys come to the states!”

ten minutes later, when you enter the air-conditioned williams motorhome, you are dressed in a flowy white pants and a williams blue silk halter top. you loop your arm through alex’s as he asks his race strategist the whereabouts of his team principal. 

 when he finishes with his conversation, he leads you towards his driver’s room 

“i thought you came here to meet james,” you question, looking up at alex.

“yeah, i did,” he responds, “but apparently he had to have a quick meeting with the engineers and will find me later, so i guess we have a little time to rest in my driver’s room before the race.” a flashes a devilish smile and little wink at you.

a flash of shock runs across your face, and you shoot him a dirty glare. “we are NOT doing that in your drivers room.” 

“what do you mean?” he replies innocently, “ when i said rest, i meant that we could maybe chill on the couch and watch a little bit of high school musical- i saw you looking at zac efron in parc ferme earlier.”

you groan exasperatedly, but follow him into the small room. 

when you first started dating alex, he was always ever the gentleman, complimenting you and whispering sweet things into your ear when you were with him. you trusted him with all your heart, and instead of freaking out when you told him that you could shapeshift into a cockatiel, he immediately started researching info about cockatiels and began carrying sunflower seeds around for you. as time passed, your relationship evolved into a loop of you bullying alex in bird form and him teasing you nonstop in public. (he obviously still knew your limit though, and was always the sweetest behind closed doors)

you hop on the couch as alex navigates to disney+ on the tv and starts the movie. he places his arm around your shoulder and leans his head against yours. you curl up into him, breathing in the smell of him. to your disappointment, within in the first twenty minutes, alex is dead asleep on the couch. you frown, lifting his arm off of you. you were about the shake him awake when you came up with a brilliant idea. 

turning back into your cockatiel form, you shake off your loose feathers onto the couch. you smile to yourself. alex hated when you left your feathers everywhere. you pick up a feather or two with your beak, and place it strategically on the floor. one on the couch hand rest, three on alex’s head, two behind the couch (when you placed those, you found a giant glossy picture of george russell behind the couch?? you’ll have to talk to him about that later). after arranging the finishing touches, you nudge alex’s cheek with your feathery head to wake him up. as soon as he opens his sleepy eyes, he immediately sees the absolute mess you made everywhere. but before he could say a word, a knock sounds from the door. 

“alex, it’s james,” says the voice outside the door.

alex’s eyes widen, and (screw his ultra-quick reflexes) proceeds to quickly snatch you off of his lap and unceremoniously shoves you inside a nearby drawer. he slides it shut, except for a little crack so you could breathe.

oh you were gonna kill him.

you hear the door open, and footsteps into the room. 

“hey, says james, “so i was gonna come here to talk to you about a chassis problem, but i think that it would be better if we could talk about it as a team in a meeting after the race. i was going to send you an email about it, but since i was passing by your drivers room, i just wanted to pop in in-person to let you know.” 

you hop towards the crack and raise an eye to see through. alex is standing awkwardly, half in front of the coach with his hands next to his sides, pointedly trying to block the mess of feathers on the couch. 

“err.. yeah! of course!” your boyfriend says. 

as if just noticing the feathers all over the couch, james raises an eyebrow. “did you kill a bird in here or are you making an art project?” he asks, looking at alex with an incredulous look. 

“art project,” alex responds, almost immediately.

“okay.” james says, in a tone that suggested he didn’t really believe alex. he turns to leave, hand on the handle. but before he does, he turns around. “wait a second, i could have sworn logan said that you were in here with your girlfriend?”

a/n: second installment of the series! ( i wrote this at 3am) if you didn't get the george russell picture reference, here's a link to a video that i watched: link

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso

[backwardsbread]

Hazbin Hotel:

Human!Alastor x Housewife!Reader

~Understanding Asexuality~

Warnings‼️- Established relationship, angst to fluff, mentions of pregnancy, fem!reader, maybe OOC Alastor??, mentions of cannibalism but only for like one sentence.

Setting is Alastor’s time period, 1900-1930s.

A/N: I hope I did Alastor’s character justice! He might be slightly out of character?? I can’t imagine him actually getting in a relationship, I mean man is literally a serial killer- so I tried- ENJOY

~I would also like to say, I am not asexual or aromatic myself. This is just my take on Alastor’s sexuality/how he handles it. If I made any mistakes, please correct me but I tried to be as respectful as possible. I tried to do some research on the history of asexuality during the time period, but remember I am not perfect and this is a FAKE scenario with a FICTIONAL character.~

You like to think you know your husband like the back of your hand.

The two of you got married young, falling hard for the young radio host was easy. Many other maidens had, their affections for Alastor painfully obvious. All the while Alastor had no plans on perusing any of the women who fancied him. He was love blind, not really understanding the amount of people attracted to him, or why they were.

What wasn’t to like? He was an attractive young man, charming, and a true gentleman. But the idea of settling down, having to commit himself to one individual the rest of his life, didn’t appeal to him.

Especially with how tainted his brain was with his little hobbies.

He never got the special feeling everyone spoke about. Butterflies, increased heart palpitations, sweaty palms. The mere thought of it was enough to have his face contorting in mild disgust.

That opinion didn’t change when he met you. There was no ‘love at first sight’ feeling for him. You were polite and put together and that was something Alastor could appreciate. He didn’t quite understand your advances towards him. Seeing your interest towards him as friendly banter, while you saw his reactions to it as rejection.

You accepted his dismissal of your feelings, knowing you had given it your best shot. It didn’t stop Alastor from adoring your company. Whether it be on the dance floor or attending the diner you worked at. You were an incredible friend to him, nothing more.

Safe to say, Alastor didn’t suddenly catch feelings for you. There was no sudden change in his feelings.

But there were whispers

Unwanted Attention being brought on Alastor.

Gossip was high. Many mouths questioning Alastor’s true intent with you. Why was he always along side such a pretty thing without courting her? Were the two of you involved in secret affairs?

The theories grew, and while Alastor loved the attention being a radio host brought him, gossip was bad if he needed to keep his personal life under wraps. Besides, what kind of gentleman would he be if he let others tarnish your good name? Getting with you was more of an effort to fit into norms rather than it being for ‘true love’.

Slowly he showed signs of affection towards you. Holding your hand in public, taking you on more proper dates, even kissing your cheek once or twice when he saw hushed whispers from nearby crowds. The affection was sudden, but not unwelcome to you. Your feelings had never truly gone away for the radio host, and you pinned his original rejections on him being shy.

It wasn’t long after his advances he asked your official partnership. To be frank, you were easy and Alastor needed a cover. His true intentions were cruel, but you were blindsided by your longtime crush and friend being interested in you.

But you weren’t completely naïve.

While yes, you loved Alastor with all your heart, you knew in the back of your mind he had ulterior motivations. Every chaste kiss, every hand hold, every hug, felt rushed and nervous. Your whole relationship with Alastor felt fast paced, as only a few months after having the gall to ask you out, he was asking you to marry him.

It felt forced.

The feeling you tried to ignore, hoping it was just your insecurities causing the sinking feeling in your gut. You of course said yes to Alastor’s proposal. Knowing deep down you loved him and should not question if he did so in return.

Before you knew it, you were dressed in white in front friends and family, listening to wedding bells chime gleefully.

You could recall joyous laughter and dancing, talking about your soon future with the radio host whose last name you had now shared. Sharing drinks with friends to celebrate you ‘winning’ over Alastor. It all moved so fast yet you were happy with the results.

Alastor couldn’t have agreed more considering the chatter about the two of you had died down ever since his proposal. (Besides a few heartbroken maidens who heard the handsome host was officially off the market) Less eyes were on him which was good for the estranged hobbies he would indulge in.

You and Alastor moved in together and it felt like smooth sailing.

Until the next thing people expected from the two of you. That of course being children.

Alastor and you would constantly hear all about the subject from your mother, who was desperate to have some grandkids running around. At the mention of children you felt flustered and embarrassed, considering you and Alastor had yet to be intimate with one another.

It was through the subject, however, that sinking feeling returned. As your mother rambled on about grandchildren, you occasionally piped in with your own opinion. When your husband realized having children was something you actually wanted, you caught him grimacing at the idea.

The look he gave made your heart feel heavy in your chest. The sinking only worsened when he begrudgingly agreed with your mother, saying how the two of you would provide her with grandchildren with time.

Forced.

You felt guilty. You knew Alastor was lying with his words. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to seduce your husband before. It was actually something you expected to happen and for the radio host to initiate.

Alastor would be lying if he said he didn’t start to feel genuine fondness towards you. You knew him well, better than any other friend he had.

You knew his schedule, his habits, his preferences. It scared him how much you could read his mind like a book. All the reason more to keep you sheltered away from how cruel of a man he truly was.

You were simply too good for him. Too innocent.

But when it came to intimacy, the radio host showed absolutely no interest. Coming up with one excuse after another to not be intimate with you. His rejection left you feeling unwanted and almost abandoned. Your own husband didn’t seem to enjoy your affections and it hurt your heart. You started to question if you were the cause of his discomfort. Was he just not attracted to you? Were you being too pushy?

Your mind even wandered to the late nights Alastor would stay out. Was he seeing someone else, perhaps? He could have anyone he wanted really, despite your marriage, there were many women who would still flirt with him. Had one caught his eye that he favored over you?

Anxiety and insecurity riddled your body for a long time before you started to search for possible answers. After work, you would head to a library of the outskirts of town. You didn’t want anyone you knew possibly catching you wildly scanning through books for possible answers.

The library didn’t provide much comfort. You found unsatisfactory answers, many of which ended in advice on how to ‘properly seduce a man’.

You didn’t want to force your husband to be intimate with you. Making desperate attempts that would ultimately be denied as they had been in the past.

You dug a little deeper, with a lot of the same results. You were just at your wits end with all the repetitive failure to find anything that felt right. However, one article caught your eye. A book that had dusted over from the lack of acknowledgment. Out of luck you reached for it, hoping to find any answers. Reading through the contents, it opened a whole new world of terminology and knowledge about a community you didn’t know existed.

You found comfort knowing there were possibly other people like your husband. That his rejections could possibly be the cause of something else other than you. You decided to take the article home with you, along with a few others, to read into it more at home.

————————————————————————

Through your research, you had started to understand your husband’s behavior more and more. You wouldn’t truly know the answers unless you had simply asked him, but at the same time, it felt better to consider this an option than to believe something was wrong with your marriage.

There were other people who exhibited traits your husband showed when it came to intimacy. Those who didn’t enjoy such pleasures or desires. It was a spectrum, one that you had never heard of. But it all made sense the more you read into different people’s experiences.

Some people’s stories you read stated how intimacy rarely crossed their mind. Before, you had only heard stories of friends being hyper sexual, with high sex drive that would oftentimes cause high gossip. It made sense that there were bound to be people at the other end of the stick, who felt the opposite. Of course they could acknowledge it was a thing. However the need/want to experience such things would rarely and sometimes never spark. It didn’t make these people strange or less human, it was simply how they felt.

You hear the door swing open, interrupting your thoughts. You swear to yourself silently, hurrying to close the books and articles you were reading up on. You shove the disorganized papers into the large book, then shove it underneath the table, out of view. You stand, brushing off your dress, and quickly go over to the stove.

“Hi honey! You’re home early.” You shout across the house to your husband. You grab your apron, messily tying the back of it.

“Oh I finished up early today, thought you would enjoy the surprise.” Alastor’s voice responds, his footsteps approaching the kitchen.

Grabbing a pot, you fill it with water as Alastor enters the room. He approaches you, putting a finger under your chin and bringing you closer. He gives your cheek a small peck, his fingers barely grazing your hip.

Forced.

You smile towards your lover, setting the full pot over the unlit stovetop. Adrenaline runs through your veins as you watch Alastor go and sit at the table. You clear your throat, avoiding looking at your husband. You open up the cabinets, looking around for ingredients to start on supper.

“How was your day, love?” You ask, trying to be as casual as you could. Alastor caught on to your anxiety, but decided to ignore it. He hummed, adjusting his glasses on his face.

“As normal as any other, dear. There was actually quite the crazy story, today about-..” Alastor went on about his radio show and the topics he had covered. You nod occasionally to show you could hear him, but his words didn’t really process in your head. You couldn’t focus with you heart drumming in your ears. Pulling out random ingredients from the cabinets, trying to think of anything to make for dinner, Alastor continues to speak. His voice a source of comfort despite him unknowingly being the cause of your anxious behavior.

“..they apparently continued their actions anyway! Don’t these men have any class? I swear to you the nerve of… some.. folk..” You tuned back into Alastor’s rambling just as he hear him start to trail off. You hear his seat pull back, making a creaking noise as he leans back and looks under the table. Feeling his gaze on you for a moment, you don’t dare to look back at your husband. He had seen what you tried to poorly hide.

Alastor leans down, grabbing the book with articles sticking out of the side. He hums, opening the book a skimming over the contents of what he found.

“Darling, what’s all this?” He asks, eyebrows furrowing as he read through the article. Tensing at his tone, you avoid looking towards him and keep quiet. Your mind racing almost as fast as your heart. Your voice was caught in your throat, trying to come up with an excuse. Any excuse.

It takes a moment to gain your composure. Eventually you speak, after clearing your throat in an attempt to get rid of the lump stuck there.

“I was just.. doing some reading.. on uhm..” Gosh, this was embarrassing to admit. Your face flushes to pink as you continue, “I just had some concerns.. I suppose I was feeling a bit insecure about our relationship-..”

“Our relationship?” Alastor questions, staring daggers into your back. His tone showing signs of irritation and discomfort. You turn towards your husband. There was no hiding how you felt now. You couldn’t lie to him when he had the evidence in his hands.

“I.. suppose I was worried.. for my own selfish reasons. I got to wondering why you didn’t seem attracted.. to me.” Alastor glares slightly at your words, drumming his fingers against the table. He knew exactly what you meant with your words, his nose instinctively cringing up in mild disgust. He opens his mouth to speak again, but is cut off quickly by you.

“I know it’s something silly to be concerned about, it shouldn’t be a concern at all. I shouldn’t have questioned you. Dare I say it was wrong of me.” You quickly tried to explain to ease your husbands silent anger.

Alastor stayed quiet, teeth gritting as his all too fake smile cracked at the seems. He felt on edge. He couldn’t have you questioning him like this, opening him up and making him vulnerable. You made him question how well he was really hiding his true identity. You could tap in to what he was feeling and it irked him. He cleared his throat, interwining his fingers together to create a cradle for his chin to sit.

“I don’t see how your concerns are important, dear. Our relationship is fine without such activities. Do you not believe that to be true? I love you, do I not?” Alastor asked, a small smile plastered on his face.

Forced

“Do you?” You find yourself asking before you can process the question yourself. Alastor’s wide eyes make you replay your words. You gasp, covering your mouth with both hands. What were you thinking??

Both you and your husband stay quiet for a period of time, staring at each other with wide eyes. Alastor breaks his gaze, looking towards the wallpaper design in the kitchen that suddenly interested him. Your voice catches in your throat. It felt like you couldn’t speak for what felt like forever. Heavy weight on your chest when you uttered the question you’d been keeping inside since you said your I do’s.

Taking a breath to regain yourself, you look towards the stove. Scattered abandoned ingredients of what dinner was supposed to be left there. You glance towards Alastor, voice barely a whisper as you speak to him.

“I understand..” Your muttered voice doesn’t reach him, causing him to look at you and turn his head. You see him in your peripheral vision, then repeat yourself;

“I understand if you don’t.. or if you don’t want to partake in any.. intimate actions with me..” You start, grabbing a potato that had been abandoned on the counter. You start to rinse it under the sink water.

“From what I’ve read, you’re not alone. There apparently are men and women alike who don’t share an interest for sexual acts and behaviors. You’re not the only one..”

“I’m not accusing you of anything.. I’m not trying.. to make you feel bad. I just wanted to understand.. and I do. Please let me.”

Alastor stares at you while you speak. His silence feels like rejection. The same rejection you felt when you had first met him, but this was worse. Your heart ached, your chest felt tight, and your eyes felt like they were drowning in welled up tears.

You loved Alastor.

But never would you force him to return it.

You hear your husband stand from his place at the table, slow steps walking towards you. You feel his presence behind you. You silently prepare yourself for an onslaught of ‘how dare you’s and ‘who do you think you are’s.

Instead you feel warm hands hook underneath your arms, pulling you back towards Alastor’s body. Your body tenses, as you drop the vegetable you were once washing into the sink. Alastor leaned forward, resting his nose in the crook of your neck. Leaning down and hugging you tight.

Flood gates open as soft tears spill down your flushed cheeks. You gently hold onto Alastor’s arm with one hand, trying to stay perfectly still as if your husband were a stray animal. As if you move, he’d flinch away.

Alastor pulls away from your neck, looking at your face. His hand reaches up, standing straight, as he caresses one of your cheeks. He smears the tears across your cheek in an attempt to wipe them away, before leaning into you. Breath hitting yours before his lips meet yours.

Authentic

You’d never felt such a gentle and loving kiss from your husband. It felt so genuine and kind. You kiss back weakly, only hoping to make him feel the warm feeling he gave you.

Alastor never truly did understand his admiration for you. He never regretted marrying you. Of course you were always a good friend for him, one that he would work hard to keep safe. To keep you hidden away from who he was. Your happiness was always in the back of his mind as an essential. Sure he hated how you read him so easily, like it was second nature. But he hated it because if you knew the truth, you wouldn’t be safe.

He hated it because a part of him did love you.

Pulling away from the kiss, Alastor keeps you close to him, watching more soft tears fall down your face. He brings his other hand up, letting you face him while he grabs out a handkerchief from his pocket. Gently dabbing away the tears on your face, he looks at you with such soft eyes. Such genuine eyes.

“Thank you.” Is all he says. It wasn’t a satisfying answer. You wanted more than anything a long list of answers to all your worries.

But invisible weight lifts off your shoulders. Closing your eyes and letting out a breath that felt much deserved to let go. It was a solution, an answer no matter how much it truly did explain. You had made an effort to understand your husband, when most would force their ways through the barriers he set around himself. That was something Alastor could appreciate.

He never understood why you took the time in your life to be patient. Be understanding. How an angel like you ended up with the demon he was.

But he hoped you wouldn’t regret it just the way he never regretted you.

——————————BONUS———————————

“…and I told her, if she ever had a problem with him again, take it up with me! And just like that, her husband was on a platter! Such a shame, his body was almost as disgusting as his behavior!”

Alastor sipped his tea as he listened to Rosie ramble. He never broke his gaze away from her, hanging on to every word she had to say. He delicately set down his cup on the porcelain saucer. Everything about Rosie.. her charm, her personality, her humor.

It all lead back to the thought of you. Someone he admired and felt comfortable with.

“Are you alright, Al? You’re kinda gawking over there..” Rosie asked, practically seeing the gears turning in Alastor’s head. Alastor blinked out of his thoughts, watching Rosie give a smile at him and tilt her head.

“I’m fine, dear, it’s just..” Alastor glanced to the side, his signature smile softening into something genuine. “You remind me of someone.” He explained quietly.

The mention raised Rosie’s interest, ready for any gossip Alastor had to spill. She leaned in close, grinning ear to ear. “Ooo! Don’t be shy, who do I remind ya of?”

Alastor looked at Rosie and he could’ve sworn that in her midnight eyes, he could see yours. Staring back at him through his soul. How could he describe you? Someone who just knew him despite how hard he tried to hide. Someone who acknowledged him over and over again despite his own uncertainties.

“She was the dearest darling to ever grace the earth.” Alastor found himself muttering. Rosie melted at the compliment he not only gave you, but her as well. She saw genuine adoration in the radio demons eyes when he spoke of you.

While what you had with Alastor wasn’t entirely real, he wouldn’t have exchanged your marriage for anything. After all, when everyone else didn’t and refused to.

You understood.

[itsabouttimex2]

I have been going insane about the not beloved au.

The idea and sheer emotions of it just cling to me and haven’t left me for days and I blame you. Just the idea of [User] not only not being the beloved- but in a way being solely viewed that way- and in a sense being completely treated as such where it is very obvious- just- I love it.

The pure angst potential with the au is there and I -‘ screeching about it.

Y/N’s Not The Beloved?

(Monkiefam)

Exactly- Y/N is so heavily defined by being “not the beloved” that it kinda becomes their entire character.

Just like some people get jammed into slots they’re undeserving of by born traits or mere appearances, Y/N is out here getting pigeonholed into the “not our favorite” just because MK is the little monkey demon that their parents dreamed of having for so long.

And it doubly sucks ass, because Sun Wukong and Macaque are such good parents to MK that any criticism on your part will be questioned and “debunked” by well-meaning peers who probably just see you as “spoiled” or “jealous”.

Like, imagine this: your classmate, Y/N, is the adopted child of the fucking legendary hero, Monkey King. He’s married to; of all people, to the infamous Six-Eared Macaque. They have an adorable adopted son who is also a demon monkey.

And if what Y/N has to say about this whole family dynamic is “they spoil my brother too much/love him more than me/expect me to constantly look after him” and like…

From their perspective?

Bitch! You are privileged beyond compare and comprehension! You have two unimaginably powerful parents! They could crumble a civilization and raise a new from the smoldering ashes! They could impose themselves as gods and demand proper tribute! And instead they adopt a silly little mortal out of the goodness of their hearts, and you have the gall to “whine” about it not being enough?

Some of your classmates get beaten for bringing home bad grades? Some of them have dead parents? And a few were disowned for being queer! Others live in filth! Some have literally nothing! Why are you so damn “ungrateful”, Y/N?!

And then desperately trying to explain that yes, you are grateful for them and everything they’ve done, it’s not right for you to miss out on fundamental life experiences just because MK didn’t want you to go, or to nearly flunk a test because you couldn’t sleep on account of MK demanding your attention, or to lose friends that you were never allowed to hang out with because MK didn’t like them.

It’s especially bad in the situation that Y/N is particularly young, around say… under thirteen, or maybe semi-verbal, if they’re shy or anxious, and they haven’t learned how to properly communicate and express themselves in a conducive and effective manner, which leads to exchanges where what Y/N says is utterly ineffective at conveying what they mean, like:

“My parents love MK more than me.” (My parents unhealthily prioritize him even at a cost to myself.)

“Aww, sweetie! He’s just new to your house! You’ll get used to him!”

“I have to babysit MK so much that I don’t get to hang out with my friends.” (My budding social life is beginning to crumble under the weight of being a caretaker to my little brother.)

“You’re such a good older sibling! I bet your parents are really grateful to have a babysitter on hand!”

“MK wanted to go somewhere new yesterday, and he made our dads take me. I didn’t get to sleep.” (MK’s immediate happiness is becoming more important to both of our fathers than my physical health.)

“I bet you all had a lot of fun if you’re this tuckered out, huh? You’re lucky they took you!”

It gets to the point that Y/N, as they grow up, turns to the internet for validation and support in their life, probably to results that are equally split towards positive/negative.

“NTA- Clearly your fathers do not respect your health or feelings! Pack up and move out!”

“I can’t move out though? We live on a sacred mountain and I’ve never had a job because they make me babysit MK instead.”

“ESH cause y’all sound exhausting. I’d beat the fuck out of this “MK” TBH. What a brat.

“He’s nine though??? WTF dude?”

“Honestly all these NTAs and ESHs are so confusing clearly OP is a fucking ungrateful brat who’s gonna regret pushing their family away when they’re alone and have nobody. MASSIVE YTA kiddo.”

“I just want to stay home and sleep because I’m tired as hell from all the other family trips that I went on with my family? This is the first time I’m saying no?”

And slowly growing more and more ostracized and confused by everything in their nonconventional little family and how MK’s obsession with them is both fueled and enabled by Wukong and Macaque’s obsession with him, all slowly heading to a peak-

And when you snap, you are inevitably going to snap hard.

[queer-geordie-nerd]

No, it is deeply, truly fucked up that activists for the Palestinian cause are holding up public suicide as martyrdom/something that should be celebrated.

A young man on the other side of the world from the war took his own life in one of the most excruciating ways possible and the response has been "well done." ABSOLUTELY NOT.

What has this act achieved? Absolutely, substantively nothing but one more human life wasted. I'm sorry, I think life is worth more than throwing it away in a pointless performance that changes nothing. I am truly sorry that this young man never got the support he so clearly needed. His life was worth more than his death and it's so disturbing to me on a fundamental level that there are people who think otherwise. Him staying alive and contributing to and working for aid organisations or doing any number of things that would have made a concrete difference to people on the ground would have been a far more substantive contribution to the cause.

People lionising this inherently disturbed act as the height of activism is crushingly irresponsible when there are so many young people who are desperate to give their lives meaning or to find something bigger than themselves - taking their inherent desire to do good in the world and twisting it until many of them, perhaps already mentally ill and suicidal, come to believe their life is only worth something by ending it "for the cause." It is utterly and completely abhorrent.

Adding more pointless suffering into the world is not helping anyone. Anywhere. At all.

It is absolutely horrifying and mind boggling to me that we have gotten to this point - glorifying extreme suffering, either as “resistance” or “activism” and then having the gall to turn around and tell anyone who disagrees that they’re the ones who don’t value human life.

[lightningant]

Honestly I find "Voldemort as a super young hottie with no sign of aging!", "it was a glamour!" and "he does look that but he can glamour it away!" kind of galling and shallow. I don't think I'd mind that it was a popular trope it didn't keep jumpscaring me as a given for harrymort, like fucking that old snake man makes you some kind of deviant. So I'm the problem because I think he should have wrinkles and can dislocate his jaw at will, okay ����

[kombuuuu]

Hello✋🏾! If I could request a Peter b parker x wife!reader where they have twins (including mayday) during the events of the movie?

No.1 Dad!

“Baby, Please. It’s a canon thing!”

“They’re toddlers!”

PeterBParker x Wife!Reader + little ones :]

light angst and a chase scene. ending is mostly comforting daddy parker

(it’s not sad i jus ❤��� this gif)

(Benjy is a canon named Kid of Peter B Parker’s in the Comics!)

“Peter Benjamin Parker.”

“Oh shit.”

The father of two grimaced at the room full of spidey people. The voice of his wife sounding through the phone and into the echoing room.

“Tell me, why the fuck-“ Peter dragged a worried hand down his face. Miles snickering next to Hobie in the background. “—I woke up, to not only my *husband missing from my bed.” He sucked in a breath, glancing over at Miguel. Stood unimpressed with two spider-children climbing all over him and his platform. “But my two toddlers *lost from their damn cribs.” “Baby, I can explain.” He focused back on the phone, crowding over it like it would help conceal the conversation at all.

“You are in so much shit when you get home, young man.”

“I’m older than you by four years!”

“Watch your tone with me, Mister.”

He groaned, huffing and pouting into the phone while you continued to scold him before Miguel interrupted.

“Good morning, [name]. Hope you slept well.” His monotoned voice drawled out while picking the children off his clothes like bugs, and putting them back on Peter.

“Leave my wife alone.”

“Oh my god, please go somewhere private for this conversation.” Miguel rubbed between his eyes, his favourite thing to do apparently.

Your voice spoke back over him. “I don’t need privacy, I need my damn— Oh! Found it.”

“Baby, what are you—“ The connection cut off midway through his sentence, causing him to huff before realising; “Hey! That got me out of it!”

He straightened his posture, collecting his kids, Mayday and Benjy. And stuffing them into their baby carriers, carefully threading their limbs through each limb-window, as he called it.

A sparkle of warm tones caught his eye, circling from nothing into a fully developed portal.

“Oh, I should’ve known.”

“I seem to be making you say ‘Oh’ a lot.”

“You should’a heard you last night.”

“Peter!” He laughed as he watched you make your way over to him, giving Miguel a courteous nod and Miles a questioning glance. You looked so beautiful. An angel to him, the love of his life. He was so lucky to have you. And the little family you had created for yourselves. All the baby-stealing and stupid pictures aside, you were beyond enamoured with him as well.

“You’re lucky I still have this old thing, Parker. Or you wouldn’t have wanted to come home.

Despite the obvious threat, the only thing he could focus on was “come home”. A sentiment that was single to just your home, or just his home. But it was home. For a family, his family.

The admiration was broken when you pinched his nose. “Ow!”

“Shouldn’t have taken my kids.”

“Our kids!”

“Yeah whatever.”

You turned to Miguel, scanning the room and being very unsurprised at the amount of spider people here. If it was something important, Miguel loved a show. “What’s going on?”

“I’m… explaining something.”

“Uhuh.” you blinked at him slowly, unbelieving.

“Stop talking to my wife.” peter cut in.

“The fate of the multiverse is at stake, [name].-“ He threw his hands up, then gestures aggressively towards the kid next to Hobie.

“It’s his father, or an entire universe!”

“She’s not into you weirdo, back off.”

“Uhuh. And how old is the kid?”

He had the gall to look ashamed. Mayday babbled behind you. Giggling excitedly once she and Benjy had lost interest in whatever they were messing with on Peters suit. “Oh, come here baby.”

“How come I didn’t get that?”

Peter pouted over at you, rocking Benji gently, who was still half asleep.

You turned back around with your kid around your hip, addressing the kid near the centre of the room. “Hey uh—.”

“Miles!” He perked up, shyly waving at you.

“Oh, Miles! Peter talks so much about you.”

“No, I don’t.”

“He even named our dog after you!”

“No, I didn’t!”

“It’s so lovely to finally meet you.” You smiled at Miles whilst he smiled back, happy to know Peter thought of him as much as he did Peter.

“You too, Mrs.Parker!”

“Don’t listen to this lady, she’s crazy and a psychopath!”

Peter stepped into place beside you, shaking his one un-baby-occupied hand in the air wildly.

“She’s off her meds!”

“Peter.”

He grumbled and stuck his tongue out. Blowing a raspberry, which Mayday happily replicated. You put the tip of your finger on Maydays tongue, pushing it back into her mouth. “Don’t do that, germs.”

turning away from peter, you kissed her cheek in apology, whispering “It’s not you, it’s him.” In her tiny ear.

You propped your free hand on your hip, looking up at Miguel on his platform.

He looked away. Hand settling below his chin as he closed his eyes and sighed.

“There’s that contemplative expression again.”

“Why is he always contemplating, nothing’s that serious.”

“I dunno.” Peter shrugged. He crept up close to you, putting his arm around you waist and leaning down to smell your perfume.

“I like that one.”

You smiled, tilting your head back to look at him, “I know,”.

Miguel continued on with his explanation, showing miles the different Canon events. Showing him Peters, Gwen’s, yours. When Miles seems to suddenly realise something.

“The Spot does it.” His hands shake alongside his voice, Peter glances over to you in worry, but ultimately focuses back on Miles. “He kills ‘im.” The boys shoulders drop in defeat.

“When does it happen.”

Miguel looks away, shaking his head and wincing.

Miles turns to the small group surrounding him, helpless.

“When does it happen?!”

“In two days,” Miles whips back towards him. “When he’s sworn in.”

“That’s- what the model says.”

“I’ sorry Miles-“

“Send me home.”

“I can’t do that, not now.”

Gwen winces and squeezes her eyes shut. Body stuff and unmoving.

“What am I supposed to do then? Let him die?!”

Miguel pauses. And doesn’t relent.

Miles’s face contorts for a second before he turns, gesturing vaguely at Gwen.

“What about your dad? He’s a captain, right?”

She just sighs, “Yeah.”

“Wh- And that’s it! You guys aren’t even gonna do anything about it?!”

Gwen looks down, ashamed.

Mayday grabs hold of your finger. Noting the serious tones of the situation, she stays quiet. He scoffs and turns to Peter.

“Okay what about Uncle Ben? That’d been okay? If you knew and you just—,” he stuttered, “Let it play out?!”

Peter stepped forward, putting a reassuring hand on his students shoulder. “If not for uncle ben, most of us wouldn’t be here Miles.”

He pauses to look at the webbed window of his Ben.

“The good we did it-,” he breathes, “It wouldn’t have been done.”

You harden your gaze over your husband. He doesn’t look at you.

Miles nods, “So we’re just’ supposed to let people die because some algorithm—!” he hits Peters hand of his shoulder and starts towards Miguel again. “Woah, woah.” Lyla interjected. “—Says that that’s supposed to happen?!”

He swings his arms in annoyance, in *fear.

This is a *kid.

“You realise how messed up that sounds, right?”

With a better moral code than most in this room.

“You have a choice between saving one person—“ The slow approach of other spider people filled out the fog coating the room. “—And saving an entire world, every world!” Miguel points at him, hand on hip.

“I can do both!” He tries,

“Spiderman always-,”

“Not always.”

Miles looks to Peter, seeking back up. Peters face twists something sorry, and Miles’s flashes of hurt.

Benji starts to wake up, cooing softly at his dad.

Miguel’s hand gently turns the boy back around, this isn’t looking good.

You glance at Hobie, seeing the apprehension in his posture as he meets your gaze.

He glanced down at Mayday in question, you reassure him with a nod. If it comes to it, you’ll put her in peters baby carrier for safety. He nods back.

“Miles, we all want to lead the life we wish we had.” When Miles shrugs him off he raises his hands.

“Believe me, I’ve tried.”His hands slowly lowered. Miles’ breathing got heavier.

“And the harder I tried, the more damage I did.”

“You can’t have it all, kid.”

Miles looked around in panic, noticing the faces creeping up on him. He makes eye contact with you, and you try and signal your support.

If you run, I’ll run too.

“Being Spiderman is a sacrifice. That’s the job, that’s what you signed up for.”

A robotic voice caught your attention as a large suit approached the outer circle.

“Miles.” The faceplate opened.

“Penny?”

He put up his defences once more.

“What is this?” He yelled, the force of his words drawing an immediate attention. “Is this an intervention or something?”

“We know it’s hard, but it’s the truth, Miles.”

You glare at the faces around you, Adjusting Mayday on your hip and keeping an eye out for your two boys.

Miles and Benji.

Peter will be dealt with later.

Miles stumbles back, righting his foot and turning to Peter.

“Is that why you’re here? To—“

he clenched his fist, “To let me down easy?”

You watch your lover closely, the look on his face telling you all you need to know, and apparently same goes for Miles.

“It worked last time, why not run it back huh?” his voice was raising, Benji getting uncomfortable at the tone.

“Woah- hey, hold on. Hold on!” He raised his hand in a placating matter, trying to tune Miles down.

“You were right, Gwen.”

You glanced up at her, his venomed whisper doing its intended purpose, hurt.

“You should have never come to see me.”

Peter slowly approached Miles, bending down to his height like a person to a stray dog.

“Kid, look at me-“ “Stop callin’ me that.”

“There you go.” You sent Hobie a huff of appraise.

“Hobie, you’re not helping.”

“Good.”

Miles gratefully nodded at him.

“Miles, please understand-“ Peter tried.

“Peter.” Your stern voice interrupted him, and he shut down his attempt.

“You can’t ask me not to save my father.”

“I’m not asking.”

You glared at Miguel, only noticing the barrier a little too late. It opened under Miles, trapping him within when the inner circle started to protest.

“Miguel just give him a second! Please!”

“Dont! Stop it.”

“You let him leave, he’ll only do more damage.”

Gwen intervened, “Enough!”

You rushed towards the barrier with Mayday, her reaching for the barrier in confusion. You can’t help him out of this, you don’t know how.

“Miguel, let him out! He’s a kid.” You raised your voice. Weaponising your authority.

“Miguel this is too far.”

“[Name], it’ll only hold him few days.” He turned around to walk away.

Miles was panicking, banging on the barriers walls and spinning to try and find a weak point. His eyes caught onto Hobie. Doing nothing but holding his palms out, and giving him an earnest look. “Sorry it had to end like this, kid.”

“I said—“ Miles placed his hands flat on the barrier, right above his head. Palms out, You backed up shielding Mayday and dragging Peter to turn around and using him as a body block for Benji.

“—Not-“ The barriers begun to crack, shatter like glass.

“—To call me that!” A wave of energy pushed everyone down as the barrier broke, exploding in a mess of bright colours.

You heard Hobie chuckle, and looked up at Miles in amazement. A second where he caught your eye, he darted. Running straight for the exit.

“Miles!” Miguel screeched.

You stuffed Mayday in her carrier in record time and blew them a kiss as you pounced from your position to catch up with Miles.

Unbeknownst to you, Your husband, along with every other spider person, would follow. Except Hobie.

“Just for the record, I quit.”

—

You had found Miles being interrogated by your lover, him holding up your two children like bribing toys.

“C’mon- just hold ‘em!”

“I don’t want to do that.”

Miles manoeuvred slyly through all the cranks and pipes, your Spidey following swiftly behind him. “Just one hold! It’s rejuvenating!”

“I’m plenty juvenated!” Miles retorted.

You were going to interrupt when you lagged behind a bit, getting stuck on a moving pipe.

When you finally freed yourself, you stumbled into a cute moment between the two.

“I wanted them to be like you!”

He stared at your husband, vulnerable and scared, the beginnings of a smile creeping onto his face.

Mayday and Benji bickered with each other in his hold.

Peters watch suddenly lit up.

“Okay, Peter I’ve got your location.”

Their faces dropped, betrayal raw on the young boys.

“No, no. You do not have my location!”

Him peeling open the crate to the industrial fans, and slipping in. You using your webs to sling in after him and pull the crate shut behind you. Catching Peters fleeting glance before what seemed twenty different spider people broke through the crate, smashing through fans.

You followed miles swiftly, through the busses and over cartops. Using your webs to keep up with him. He wasn’t bad, for someone so young.

“I’m a great mentor!”

You huffed at Peters distant offended tone. “Sure, baby.” You muttered.

You hooked around a building, watching as Miles cut himself off from Gwen. Her hand reaching out for him as he fell. Your spidey senses caught your attentions, tingling in the forefront of your mind. You zeroed in on Miles and watched as he aimed for the train. It hadn’t looked like anyone else had caught on yet. Still scrambling to get to him, instead of trying to cut him off.

—

Miguel had the kid by the throat. Slamming him against the train doors and dragging his body up with him. You watched in fear as he spoke to the boy.

“You’re a mistake!”

You screamed at him from your position below, begging for him to just let the kid go. Miles caught you gaze. You fought against the wind, trying hard to get to him, and keeping an eye on Peter and your babies.

“If you hadn’t been bit-!” Miguel slammed his back again. You winced. “Your Peter Parker would have lived!”

Miles struggled against him, trying to push off the claws attacking him. “Instead he died- Saving you.”

“He would have stopped the collider before it went off. Spot wouldn’t exist-“ “Peter!” “-And none of this, would have happened.”

The three of you climbed to get to them. You grabbed Benji off peter, Cradling him in your arms as the winds were getting too rough.

Miguel slammed him back again, crowding over the small boy and growling his words.

“And all this time— I have been the only one holding all this together.”

“Miguel go easy on him!” Peter called down from his spot behind you, he sounded devastated, your heart broke for him. You knew how much he loved Miles, thinking of him almost like his first son. Your husband would bring him up so often, wondering what he was doing when he could see through the Spidey-Windows Miguel would (angrily) provide.

He always stressed when Miles had to figure out things himself, saying things like “Just give me a day with him, we’ll figure it out!” “He’s a kid Miguel. Wouldn’t you have wanted a mentor back then?” “I’m a great mentor.” “You just don’t see my brilliance.”

Benji babbled in your arms and you cooed back at him, spider beanie pulled snug over his face. Huh, he was pretty rejuvenating.

Miguel leaned closer, growling words of disgust to the kid.

“Let me go!” Miles struggled against him. A choked sound came from Peter, and when you looked back at him you swore you could see his eyes shine with unshed tears.

“Miguel that’s enough!” Gwen shouted.

“This isn’t what we talked about!”

Miles stopped struggling.

“You talked about this?” He looked down at Peter, heart breaking.

“You knew?”

Peter looked down, ashamed. Clinging onto the train but no longer climbing. Mayday held tightly to his chest with the other hand, he caught your eye.

“Peter what did you do..” Your breath escaped you and the words came out a whisper, flown away by the winds around you.

“You all knew?”

Your head shot up, starting to disagree before Gwen spoke.

“I.. I didn’t know..” She looked away, unable to face him.

“How to tell you.”

“That’s why you never came to see me.”

“Miles it’s for your own good!”

He pushed forwards.

“Who decides that?”

Miguel pushed back.

“I’m not a kid Gwen.”

Miguel grunted, slamming him again, the dent in the train deepening every time. “That’s exactly what you are! You’re just a kid!”

“Who has no idea what he’s doing!” Miles grabbed onto his shoulders, trying to squirm further from the beast on him.

His fingers sparked.

Miguel shoved his forearm against Miles’ neck, pushing his face against broken metal.

“Yeah well, I did get hundreds of Spider people away from your own club house.”

The roaring of spider people climbing the train travelled straight to Miguel’s ears.

“I guess he did plan this out!”

You smiled up at him. Seeing him smug back.

“And, I’m about to do this.”

He latched his sparking fingers onto Miguel’s shoulders. Clenching down and watching the starts of his electricity flow through the man’s arms.

The elder was the on struggling now, confused grunts paired with an effort to escape the boys hold.

“Everyone keeps tellin’ me how my story is s’posed to go.

Nah, Imma do my own thing.”

He pushed his whole hands against blue spiders chest.

“Sorry, but i’m going home.”

He pushed Miguel off of him right as he ignited the current buzzing underneath their veins. And watched as the Brunettes body ragdolled off of him and shot off the train and into the open sky.

The fanged man dragged his hand through waves of spider people, struggling to catch himself against smooth metal.

You looked back up at Miles, as he stood, connected by a single web to the speeding train.

“Goodbye, Gwen.”

He cut the thread and fell.

Gwen yelled for him, a call of his name. But peter? Peter just watched with his heart in his throat. His own betrayal heavy on his heart.

—

You were finally at home again. The stress of the day weighing high on the both of you. Even Mayday and Benji seemed to have noticed the tension.

Getting tired over all the moving and all the fighting, it was barely 7:30 before they were dead asleep.

“You think we’re bad parents?”

You were stood leaning over he crib, arms rested on its gates. Peter crowded over you, covering you in his smell and feeling. The weight on his body pressing against your back was akin to a weighted blanket, grounding you as you watched your sweet children breathe.

“Nah, Everyone has their first chase.”

“Well,..”

“Ehhh, want to see the cute photo I got of Benj and May?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

—

Your husband had been off the whole rest of the night. When you two had sat down together to watch the first mind numbing thing you could find, he couldn’t stop moving. Jittering with nerves.

You were waiting patiently for him to work the courage to say what he needed. Not ever preparing for something like this.

“Think Miles hates me?” It was said slyly. Like he was playing it off to be nothing, but the tension in his shoulder told you otherwise. “I think he’ll be hurt. And upset, but I don’t think he hates you.” He picked at his nails as you spoke, you curled your hands over the expanse of his chest and fit your ledge over his waist, he looked up at you through wet lashes.

“Are you sure cause-“ He cut himself off with a clear of his throat, not wanting to sob over something so *stupid in his head.

“Oh, baby. You’re so sweet, but he could never hate you.”

Peters hands stopped fiddling with themselves, smoothening down the curve of your ass and the small of your back.

“Okay,”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

He sounded relieved, if not a little suspicious.

He dug his face into the juncture between your neck and shoulder and inhaled deeply.

“Creep.”

He nipped at your skin lightly in retaliation.

“Miguel talks to you too much.”

“Every sentence we shared was negative.”

“He’s like that.”

You scoffed at him playfully and he smiled into your neck, turning his cheek to your skin and watching you. “I’ll make sure next time we talk, it’ll be in sign.”

“No, I don’t speak ASL, what if he says something about me?”

“He says something about you out loud, baby.”

“Yeah but I can’t hear it if he’s signing.”

—

Even later in the night, when you heard the shower running and soft sobs coming from the bathroom. You did nothing but undress and climb in with him. Rubbing your hands soothingly down his back, spreading soap along his chest and back and massaging it in deep for him.

You let him hold himself up against you, and pretended not to notice the difference between the shower water and his tears. You dragged him down to your height, a hand tucked into his soft hair before your lips met his. He would settle his hands on your hips, push you ever closer to him. And take the comfort you gave him in stride.

Eventually you would pay mine to your water bill, and would dry each other off carefully, get dressed together and settle in your shared bed. It was 1 AM now, but you couldn’t care less, being in the arms of your lover had outweighed any negatives lack of sleep could bestow. He would make it up to Miles. Solve the problems of the universe (multiverse), and have you two meet for real. Introducing Miles to his wife, and his son to his twins.

—

I WENT OFF THE RAILSSSS

probs making a part two later, for more peter daddy snippets and cute kids plus wifey reader

[songmingisthighs]

Whatcha Gonna Do About It ?

group : ateez

pairing : brat!wooyoung × milf!reader

genre : smut

wc : 3.3 k

tw : mdni, explicit smut, age difference (legal ofc), unprotected sex (std ew), wooyoung being annoying, reader in her mid-to-late 30s, wooyoung calling reader mommy, masturbation (m), wooyoung in some sort of a sub space ? but like... brat, slapping like.. twice?, creampie

a/n : requested by anon and part of my milf deal with @luvt0kki !! >:D

buy me coffee ?

Warm sun, cold drink, the soft murmur of people by the pool of the country club, sometimes you appreciate your husband for moments like this.

Well, ex-husband.

While you made peace with the fact that your marriage ended years before, the divorce still brought a bitter taste in your mouth. Years spent with that asshole and he had the gall to come to you with the bimbo who couldn't even spell the word 'homewrecker' without writing it with a crayon, asking for you to help him raise the baby as the girl was willing to get paid to let go of maternal responsibilities and instead get paid to go to beauty school. Served you right for letting your parents set you with him when you were still so young just for the money. Safe to say you got the penthouse, the luxury and the community while he got the bill and the 19-year-old high school dropout with a baby on the way. Not even your son who idolized his father wants to have anything to do with his father and while your ex said it was just him being a 12-year-old, you knew better. So while your ex had to redo his whole life and regain his credibility, you were left simmering in unresolved anger and frustration. Though by the poolside, in your ridiculously expensive bikini that you bought just to piss your ex off, you found the experience rather pleasant.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here,"

Speaking of children.

Barely giving him a glance, you took a sip of your mojito and adjusted your sunglasses, "Hello, Wooyoung," you greeted half-heartedly.

Jung Wooyoung is someone you want to avoid when you're at the club. He's a notorious tease and a player and everyone knows it but has no means to stop him due to his influential family. He treats girls his age like a plaything so when he started to get close to you a couple months ago when your divorce was finalized, you didn't bat an eye. Maybe he was just bored, maybe he wanted to rile you up, or maybe he wanted to see how many demographics his good looks can affect because while he's relentless and annoying, he's VERY easy on the eyes and smooth with his words. No wonder there was a long line of broken hearts that seemed to always trail behind him.

"Surprised to see you here today," he sat himself down on your pool chaise, right next to your hip, "I heard you went to the Komodo Island for healing. And to think you'd just stick with your husband if you wanted to be close to something dangerous and cold-blooded," he smirked. While his jab at your ex amused you, you tried your best to not show any reaction by taking another sip of your drink before shrugging, "I went there to see the construction of the villa I invested in. Why? Thought you could get me to give you free access?" "Well," he pursed his lips and turned his body towards you, allowing you to trail your (thankfully sunglass-covered) eyes on the smooth expanse of his chest and watch droplets of water race down his skin, "I'd love a free access, but not to your villa. If you get what I mean," he coyly stated.

You could feel your cheeks warm up but having had enough you stood up straight and got your face close to him (much to his delight). "Okay, little boy, you think you can play with the sad divorcee? Is that it? You think someone like you can do more damage to someone like me?" You jabbed a finger at his tanned chest that now that you were so close to him, you could see how delicious it looked, "You're nothing, boy. You're just a tease with a big mouth," you hissed.

Much to your surprise, he was looking at you with such intrigue and when you looked into his eyes, you noticed the slight teasing glint in them that made you swallow a lump in your throat.

"You think I'm all talk?" He chuckled condescendingly as his hand suddenly found your shin. The touch was electrifying and it sent a sharp tingle up your spine which you found delightful as much as you had to admit. Your heart started beating harshly against your ribcage when said hand trailed upwards slowly, brushing against your inner thigh before it jumped to the hand on his chest, gently wrapping his larger palm around your hand. How can veins be hot? What are you, a mosquito?

"You think I just have a big mouth?" he teased again with voice at a lower register that drew you into a hazed state until he brought your palm to his lips, kissing the skin around your pulse point to the pads of your fingers, "Don't you know that it's good to have a big mouth?" Your eyes widened and your mouth involuntarily let out a gasp when he shoved your index and middle finger into his mouth. His mouth was warm and you could feel his tongue circling your digits which sent your core clenching and leaking arousal, suddenly imagining the muscle somewhere... Lower.

"You've been treated so bad, so I want to treat you right. But you seem to think that all I want to do is use you once and that hurt me..." He leaned close abruptly, sending you reeling to an almost lying position had it not for one of your elbows supporting your weight, "Mommy."

The name triggered something in you and as if on instinct, the hand that was in his grasp slipped away and grabbed at his throat, pressing on his jugular as you pushed him slightly away. "Did you just fucking call me 'mommy'?" you growled, glaring at him.

Wooyoung had always considered you hot and sexy but seeing you like this at a proximity this close, made his cock twitch and hands itching to pull the flimsy ties by your hips. "Yeah, whatcha gonna do about it?"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Everything was a blur, you didn't know what exactly happened but you somehow managed to pull Wooyoung into a private cabana without getting seen (or at least you hoped no one saw) after what he had just done and in a blink of an eye, you found yourself i your current position.

"Aww, I thought you said you weren't just all talk," you pouted at Wooyoung mockingly.

Scowling, Wooyoung moved his hand faster on his cock, trying to get himself off in front of you while you stood on your knees on the daybed in front of him, an unamused look on your face. "I am," he hissed from annoyance and stimulation mixed with frustration because though he was getting some relief, it was not from you and you were just standing there as if mocking him with your presence. Seeing him in such a state, clear annoyance with an obvious blush that betrayed his demeanour somehow made you feel powerful, confident, beyond sexy. Even with your husband, whenever either of you initiated sex, the feeling was never this... thrilling. "So? You just can't cum? You're all talk and so pathetic, Wooyoung. How are you supposed to fuck me like you said you would, like you said I deserved when you can't even do it to yourself?" you scoffed, rolling your eyes which made Wooyoung let out a sharp exhale.

You had to admit, you liked the sight of Wooyoung stark naked with his knees slightly bent and legs spread wide. Seeing from the way your eyes fell from his own gaze to his twitching cock, and the way you bite your bottom lip, Wooyoung was aware that you liked what you saw and it made his back arch as if to make a big showcase of his pleasure. Your pussy was practically drenched seeing the hot twenty-four-year-old trying so hard to please himself to please you what with beads of sweat and remnants of pool water that slowly seeped into the cushions underneath him. He was glowing. You couldn't believe that a guy like him wanted you to the point of throwing himself at you like an idiot.

"Mommy, come on," he moaned, dropping his chest back, "I'm touching myself to you so the least you can do is pop those pretty titties out to help me cum because now that I have you in front of me, I need it, I need it bad," he whined, trying to inch his body closer to yours only for you to drop your hands on his knees, securing his position. Wooyoung halted his movements when he saw your tits dangling in front of him, the flimsy fabric couldn't hide your hardened nipples and the sight of them bouncing and jiggling at the slightest movements made his eyes widen and mouth drool.

Despite his Neanderthal-like vocabulary and crass expression, you felt flattered and as weird as it is, you found a unique charm in that. "You think you deserve to see my tits, boy?" you smirked, crawling closer to him until you sat yourself on the tops of his knees with legs caging his comfortably. Wooyoung's eyes automatically dropped lower to the space between your legs, taking note of the dark patch that had formed and smirked, happy that you were turned on seeing him put on a show for you. Slowly, he started stroking himself again, this time putting more pressure in his grip, "Of course, I do, mommy. If you let me suck one of them, I'll even pound your pussy to next Thursday," he smugly said.

Scoffing, you pulled one side of your bikini top, revealing your left tit to him and his jaw comically dropped. You could see from his eyes the way his pupils followed the movement hungrily as if being hypnotized and you couldn't help but laugh at him mockingly, "Oh my God, are you that affected by the sight of breasts? What are you, a virgin?" You taunted. Wooyoung's eyebrows furrowed and his lips pouted as his eyes darted to glare straight at yours, "How can I be a virgin? You've seen girls I slept with," he huffed with cheeks tinted slightly red. "Well you sure are acting like you've never seen a woman's naked body before which is so sad," you faked a pout before moving to reveal your other tit to him. You saw his chest shake as a rumble passed his throat and his adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed his saliva. "Fuck, you're so hot," he whined, trying to reach for your body only to have you slap his hands away with a hiss, "Did I tell you that you could touch me without permission?"

Dissatisfied, Wooyoung whined loudly and was about to protest when he felt something tweaking his cock. "What?" you smirked, letting your finger tweak his tip again which caused him to choke on his breath a little. "Pathetic," you spat after clicking your tongue, expressing disappointment as you grabbed him from the base and squeezed.

He didn't know why, he didn't know how, but the combination of your treatment on him got him cumming on your hand. Your eyes twinkled with intrigue as you watched spurts of white liquid spray from his tip, hitting your exposed tits as his back arched with a slight tremble and his head thrown back. For once, you appreciated the sound he made; a whimpered moan that sounded slightly muffled as if he was holding himself back by keeping his lips tightly sealed. "Now, now, don't hold back on me," you teased, pinching the tip harshly. His thighs tensed from the sudden stimulation as his jaw slackened letting the voice he had held back finally out. You were not sure what but maybe it was the reality that you were being physically intimate with a man a lot younger than you or the possibility of getting caught by passerby separated by the tent because Wooyoung was being loud or a mixture of both, but you felt a pleasant chill ran down your spine straight to your aching cunt.

In his haze, Wooyoung barely noticed you crawling up and situated yourself on his lap, your heated but unfortunately still covered core pressed on his flaccid cock. Wooyoung's eyes rolled into his head when he felt you starting to roll your hips on him. The anticipation had eaten away through him and the barest minimum of contact made him almost nut right at that moment. But with sheer will, he pushed through and decided to enjoy himself first.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for this," Wooyoung grunted as he felt his dick coming back to life almost instantaneously, "Fuck, I want to make my mommy feel good," he moaned shakily when he felt the wet patch on your bikini bottom rub against him, giving him friction from the friction and warmth. You couldn't deny the fact that hearing someone as young as Wooyoung lusting after you made you so aroused that you were practically clenching at nothing which was stupid because his cock was there and it wouldn't take much for him to get fully hard again. Even if he wasn't fully hard, you were sure that you could get him inside you without any issue. Why were you torturing yourself instead of torturing the guy under you?

At that point, you had had enough of messing around, you wanted him in you and you wanted him right then and there. Wooyoung's eyes followed your every movement like a predator watching its prey which was ironic since you hold the reigns. When you pulled on one of the strings of your bikini bottom, Wooyoung couldn't help but think of it like a present being opened because the moment your bare pussy came to view, he accidentally let a word slip past him. "Want," he whimpered with eyes still glued on your pussy like an idiot. You had to bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from saying something snarky because frankly, you were enjoying the attention. "Yeah? You want mommy's pussy, baby?" you teased, returning to rubbing yourself on Wooyoung.

With each movement, the fabric of your bikini bottom ruffled which allowed your bare cunt to make direct contact with Wooyoung's bare cock. The feeling and built-up expectation seemed to be too much for Wooyoung as his back arched and eyes rolled back into his head. You had to admit that you had never seen a prettier sight than the one that was oh so freely given to you by Wooyoung. Taking advantage of Wooyoung's state, you grabbed his hardening dick and positioned it at your entrance and began descending until your hip met his.

"Oh- fuck!" Wooyoung grunted, his body jolting which was followed by his abdominal muscles tensing as if he had just been punched in the gut, winded simply by your pussy. Seeing this, you could only smirk not just because you didn't want to ruin the moment but also because you thought that nothing could beat the cocky look on your face.

Wooyoung's pleasure doubled the moment you started moving against him. Your more experienced hips moved in a way that allowed his cock to slip in and out without slipping out but also kept your lower halves connected. "Shit- fuck, mommy!" he gasped loudly which prompted you to slap him and grab ahold of his cheeks in one hand. "Keep your voice down, Wooyoung, no one can find out what we're doing here," you hissed, leaning down close to warn him. You hadn't meant to be so harsh but that action seemed to rile Wooyoung up even more because once you let go of his face, a depraved smile appeared on his face and he let out a content sigh, "Fuck mommy, if only you'd let me let people know how good you're using me right now," you felt the soles of his feet planted flat on the surface of the daybed and he began meeting your thrusts which almost caused you to fall on top of him, "God, Jesus, you feel so good mommy, your cunt is so perfect, I want to never stop fucking it, holy shit," goosebumps shot up your spine when Wooyoung grazed his hands on the sides of your legs and they kept moving upwards until they settled on his chest. Your eyes widened and you instinctively licked your bottom lip when Wooyoung began tweaking his nipples.

Somehow the pace you both set never faltered but you felt Wooyoung thrusting into you harder than you had initially done but it wasn't like you were about to complain.

It didn't take long before you felt Wooyoung's movements become frantic and you realized that he was about to cum again. Before Wooyoung could do anything else, you reached forward and grabbed his face again, prompting him to look at you, "You don't get to cum yet, pretty boy, I'm cumming first and then you'll wait until I told you that you could cum." Wooyoung pouted and whined, "Mommy why? I need to cum, please." You had to think that he was purposefully being loud to get you to slap him again because when you did, you swore you could see him smirking. "Weren't you a good boy? You can make me cum just with your cock, can't you? Or are you that pathetic that the woman had to do everything, huh?" your taunts successfully egged Wooyoung as he determinedly thrust into you. His face was scrunched and his movements were sloppy, beads of sweat started trickling down his face and the lack of changing expression on your face seemed to frustrate him.

You casually slipped your thumb into his mouth and pressed down on his tongue, "Don't you give me that look," you scoffed, "You talk big but you can't deliver, huh? Pathetic." Wooyoung tried whining again but this time you pressed your thumb more onto his tongue, not caring about the drool that accumulated and trickled down the sides of Wooyoung's mouth.

Maybe deep down you had a thing for pliable brats because, for some reason, the sight of your harsh treatment on Wooyoung got you fucking yourself quicker and quicker until your cunt clenched down on Wooyoung as you came.

The sudden tightness sent Wooyoung reeling and he came inside you immediately. The release felt amazing and your grip on him allowed his cum to be fully stuffed inside you.

"Fuck," you panted, coming down from your high first, "Didn't I tell you to wait for my permission?" you scoffed once you finally managed to find your voice again. Chest heaving, you weren't really mad that Wooyoung disobeyed you because you had just experienced the best sex you've ever had, bar none.

"M' sorry mommy, so so sorry," Wooyoung babbled with a stupid grin on his face, eyes blinking back as his euphoria died down. "Yeah, sure you're sorry," you shook your head, not believing his words even slightly because he looked like pure bliss. You were no better though because had there been a mirror, you would've seen that you were also smiling genuinely. You could simply say that it was because you just had sex, but you had to admit that it was also because you had done it with Wooyoung.

Thinking that you were done, you slowly detached yourself from Wooyoung. But before you could even get off properly, Wooyoung had leapt forward and pinned your body down.

"Wooyoung!" you hissed, surprised and you immediately tried to sit up only for Wooyoung to push your body back down.

"I'm sorry for not waiting for your permission, I feel bad, really. So let me clean you up real quick, yeah?" there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that was accompanied by a knowing smirk before he lowered his face down to your cunt.

You were about to have another best sex ever, bar none.

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[jolenes-doppelganger]

honestly any Rebecca Ferguson character x fem!reader preferably Lady Jessica but whatever works for you hurt/comfort maybe a lil smut idk I just read the Phantom whispers (?) fic and it was soooo good

[Hi, anon! Welcome to Iola's first crack fic! :D (No smut, I'm not feeling it. But giggles!]

Rearing the Muad'Dib

Reverend Mother Jessica x Fem! Fremen Reader

Summary: What happens when a stubborn teenage boy finds a pack of tiny mice while Jessica requires assistance? Cock Mice blocking.

Warnings: Slight NSFW undertones, allusions to sex, almost sex multiple times, and Reader + Jessica being walked in on right before doing the deed. (I'm not counting this as NSFW because it isn't QUITE smut. Equivalent of seeing an almost sex scene in a film). Implied animal abandonment.

A/N: This fic gave me LIFE to write! Usually I'm not a fan of open requests, but this fell within the time frame of a fun idea I had. Thus, crack fic. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.8k

The Muad’Dib were sacred to the Fremen. They represented a vital part of their ecosystem, the structure of the mouse’s ears had taught them how to catch water from the air. They were also wise in the ways of the desert, so much so that the Fremen often saw themselves in them. Just as they had mystified the young Paul, they mystified the Fremen. Some of them. To the Fremen with food to eat, they were a symbol of hope. To the Fremen opening up flour bags riddled with turds and urine, they were a curse.

Paul had taken a strange name, in your opinion. Sure, the desert mouse was arguably fitting for a boy scrawny and thin compared to the Fremen boys his age, but it felt too on the nose. You supposed it was a quirk of his character, his desire to label himself as anything but the savior. The honesty, a trait he must have gotten from his father. Though you never met the man, you knew it didn’t come from the woman with eyes too angular to be high born, too familiar to be considered foreign. You tolerated the both of them, mostly Paul. That was until he came back into the Fremen sietch with a load of baby mice. They were tiny, the size of your thumb, and the boy dumped them on you.

“They need help.” Paul insisted, the teenager crossing his arms stubbornly.

You looked up at the man child with exhausted disbelief, then back at the squirming pouch of hairless mice.

“Paul, the desert is in control of the life cycles of the mice. We as Fremen do not intervene.” you sighed, explaining with more condescension than necessary.

“I disrupted the nest walking, it’s my fault.” he ardently insisted, brow furrowed.

You took a deep, long breath in through your nose. This boy was annoying, stubborn, and yet he was gaining power by the second in the Fremen camp. His mother was helping with that.

“I don’t have time to nurse baby mice, Paul. Return them to the desert where you found them.” 

“I’ve been carrying them for seven days.”

“And feeding them with what, exactly?”

“... Rice water.”

The gall of this boy. To waste water? Rice water? On mice? Not even cute ones, little squirming sacks of flesh, not enough to make a handful.

“I don’t have time, take them back.”

“But Stilgar said-”

“Unless I hear it from Stilgar himself, I am not raising mice babies.” you put your foot down.

Paul stayed quiet, eyes flickering upward. The wheezing nature of Stilgar’s breathing, what you assumed to be a deviated septum, made it clear that the man had been lurking for long enough to hear you deny the prophesied savior of Arrakis. He was like a serpent, this man. Slithering between rocks and striking at the moment of weakness. And that meant you now had to change your tune before the man drove a stick through your ass.

“… If they die under my care, I will not be held liable, I have other responsibilities to attend to.”

“Like what?” Stilgar’s southern Fremen accent cut in.

“Like attending to the Reverend Mothers.” you spoke, using the plural for Jessica and her strange child.

Stilgar let out an amused snort. 

“Take the mice babies and go attend to the woman.”

You did as the sietch leader told you, not bothering to do more than nod. Unbeknownst to you, the conversation continued.

“Muad’Dib.” Stilgar sighed. “You are a good fighter. You learn the ways of the desert quickly. But you are stupid. Like a hamster. Balls bigger than brains.”

Paul went silent, nodding once. Stilgar was blunt, more vulgar than Gurney had been, calmer than Dr. Yueh.

“I merely want to ensure the continuation of the ecosystem.”

“No. The desert has a balance.” Stilgar made a gesture. “Too much life, too little water. The desert balances out everything on its own. You do not recognize that trampling on a nest was the desert working through you.”

Paul, to his credit, nodded.

“I see.”

“Good. Now take the mice back from that poor woman you’ve burdened.”

“But you said-“

“No. I supported you in front of her because I am your teacher. But in private I will not tolerate such stupid mistakes.” Stilgar said, voice gentle and level, but firm. 

Paul nodded, trudging off in the direction of his mother’s chambers. Sure enough, the baby mice were sat in a container that trapped water. It was warm too. He supposed it was fitting. Two pairs of feet could be seen, in an odd position. Two right feet together, and two left, like one person was sitting in another’s lap. Well no shit Paul, that was what was happening.

“Mother, I…”

Paul trailed off as he took in the scene. His mother leaning into the front of the Fremen woman from before, her hands rubbing over his mother’s swelling, bare abdomen. Bare abdomen. 

“What is this?” he grew defensive, using anger to substitute his embarrassment at having walked in on a sensual scene.

“I am massaging the skin to loosen the tension.” you replied, not stopping for him.

Jessica hardly stirred, head lolling back against you. Her brow was relaxed, fine lines disappearing as she was tended to.

“Paul, what is it?” she sighed.

“The Muad’Dib pups.”

Both you and Jessica groaned internally. The crease in her brow returned.

“Stilgar said I need to release them back into the desert.”

Jessica clicked her tongue in annoyance. She had been so close to tempting the Fremen girl into going farther. Too close.

“So do that.” she retorted.

Paul fixed you with a look. It was like playing chicken. He wouldn’t back down, and neither would you. The object of debate? Jessica. How you were handling Jessica. The crease in her brow remained. You kissed it away, hands still massaging oil into her belly. His face went red.

“Does Alia appreciate that?” he snidely commented.

“She does.” you replied, massaging carefully.

“Ah.” Paul said, giving the nastiest bitch glare a boy of fifteen could muster.

But seriously, who could blame him? He was watching someone put moves on his pregnant, prophecy riddled mother. It was enough to make him vomit. Or anyone vomit.

“Paul, take the mice and go.” Jessica groaned, pulling one of your hands lower, massaging the crevice between her stomach and her hip bone.

Paul reached for the mice. Then he paused.

“They’re in your care. You said you’d take care of them.” Paul countered.

“Paul, don’t be intentionally thick. Stilgar said to release them, so do so.” Jessica instructed, voice getting tight.

“Well they’re hers. Shouldn’t she do it?”

“No. You brought the mice, they’re your responsibility. Leave (Reader) out of this.”

You added more of the reclaimed oil to your palm, continuing to massage the swelling tissue of Jessica’s stomach. Paul still continued to stand there with a comically disgusted look on his face.

“You’re wasting water.”

“Paul, this oil does not evaporate quickly. Most will be absorbed into the skin. The moisture that escapes will be collected again.” you replied, voice even.

Jessica lay still. Then she cracked both eyes open, almost glaring her son down.

“The mice.” she ordered, blue eyes sparking with fire.

Paul skittered away, taking the tiny cup of mice and leaving. Jessica waited for the boy to leave, grabbing your hand again, bringing it down beneath the light blanket covering her hips, down, down, down….

“Oh!” Jessica gasped. “Yes!”

You kissed her shoulder, slowly moving your fingers over that tiny, pulsing…

“Wait!” you heard Paul say, giving you about three seconds to pull your hand out of Jessica’s crotch before he stormed in. “These mice are holy. They cannot be left to die.”

Jessica’s hands clenched against the fabric of the blanket, taking in a long exhale through the nose.

“Paul. Out. Now.” she snapped.

“What, am I interrupting your massage?” he sassed.

Jessica was seething. What about six little thumb sized mice had him so riled up? Stubborn. A stubborn idiot of a boy. Her idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.

“How do you think you were created, huh?” Jessica huffed. “Or her?” she pointed to her stomach.

Paul’s jaw dropped, looking between you and Jessica with growing moral outrage and embarrassment.

“Alia? While Alia is there?”

Jessica pulled her dress down, ensuring her entire body was covered before pulling off the blanket.

“The mice. If you want them to live, attend to them yourself.” Jessica snapped. “You’ve exhausted my patience.”

Paul huffed, walking off. You stood with Jessica, quietly taking her arms in your hands.

“Jessica, what about…?”

“I’ve lost the mood.” Jessica sighed, adjusting the fabric of her dress over her abdomen. “Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize. You look tired. A nap, perhaps?”

Jessica nodded, working her way towards the cot. You helped her lay down, propping her on her side with pillows and other comfy things.

“I’ll figure out the mice thing. You just rest.”

“Hmm.” she smiled, for just a moment.

You had some other matters to attend to. Matters best done while the Reverend Mother slept.

←→

Paul was awful at caring for little things, you deduced. It was a miracle he’d kept these mice alive at all up to this point. He cradled them wrong, fed them wrong, housed them poorly. The list was endless.

“Paul, no. You use the tiny straws with the thumb pressing on top to maintain the vacuum.” 

“Yeah, well I am!”

“No, you let too much pressure out and nearly drown them when the water comes out too fast. If your mother was here to see how much water you were wasting, she’d hang us both.”

Paul huffed, finally exerting himself to the micro attentions required to feed the mice. You huffed, focusing on feeding all six of the tiny mouse pups.

“What happens when they’re adults, hmm? They won’t be fit to live in the dunes.”

Paul rolled his eyes.

“Don’t sass your elders.” you scowled. “This is a genuine concern.”

“I’m not. You’re like five, six, maybe seven years older than me.”

“I’m a Sayyadina. A junior priestess. I outrank you, and I have sway with your mother.”

Paul let out an angry grumble.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s gross. My mother really loved my father. You’re just entertainment.” Paul glowered.

You didn’t answer, focusing your energy towards feeding one of the comically small mice pups. Soft footsteps came down the hallway, another Sayyadina whispering in Chakobsa. You nodded, setting the mini straw and mice pup down.

“Where are you going?” Paul got defensive.

“To go sway your mother.” you retorted.

Paul flushed crimson, and you chuckled a bit. He’d made it too easy.

The other Sayyadina led you to her chambers, not that you needed an escort or a guide. She delivered you to her door, as was custom. But not before whispering excitedly to you.

“Paul is raising mice? Everyone’s talking about it. He’s so sweet, caring for such tiny pups.”

“Well, he’s terrible at it. Don’t be-”

“Enough chatter.” Jessica called. “I require her, Harah.”

The Sayyadina, Harrah, blushed in shame to be caught speaking in such a way of Jessica’s son. You watched her skitter away, leaving you to breeze past the cloth drape separating Jessica’s chambers from the rest of the communal sietch living area.

“I assume you’re here to reprimand me.” 

Jessica wrinkled her nose, waving away the statement like a pesky insect.

“No, no. It’s not my largest concern what the… Just come here.”

You smiled, simultaneously relieved and curious for what she required. You settled at her side, hands cautiously reaching for hers.

“This pregnancy… The bloodflow gets concentrated, you see. And I wake up just so inflamed.” she smirked, pulling you closer by your forearms. “Being my chosen confidant and healer, could you inspect me?”

It was a bawdy proposition, one that drew your mind right back to where the two of you had left off. Jessica let out a hum, pulling her skirts over her hips, laying on her back as you crawled forwards.

“Be most accommodating and skip the teasing. I don’t need it.” Jessica husked.

You nodded, bringing your face between her thighs, inhaling the concentrated smell of her sex, mouth opening, tongue extending-

“Reverend Mother, your boy is causing a ruckus.” Stilgar boomed, strolling into the tent without regard for a warning.

You reacted quickly, covering your Reverend’s body with your own until she managed to cover herself. Stilgar tilted his body, looking up at the ceiling.

“The rumors are true.” he nodded, smiling in his dumb way.

“Enough.” Jessica huffed. “What is this ruckus you speak of?”

Stilgar, still amused at having walked in on an almost moment between the Reverend and her favored Sayyadina did not change his demeanor.

“Paul is raising mice and wasting water. I want it to stop.”

“I told the boy-”

“Ahh, but you are not the only problem here.” Stilgar waggled his finger. “Someone taught him to feed them using tiny straws.”

Jessica looked up at you, crossing her arms.

“You said you were going to take care of it.”

You had said that. She wasn’t wrong.

“I’ll make him take them into the dunes.”

“No, no you won’t.”Jessica snapped, slowly pulling herself to her feet. “I will. And you will sit on this cot and not move until I am done.”

Both Jessica and Stilgar left the room, leaving you to sit and think about what you did until Jessica returned. It was boring. There were limited ways to tell time inside the sietch, thus time passed slowly mostly. But this wait? Eternal. A pair of boots stomped into the room, and angry, flushed in the face Paul staring at you.

“She just dumped them in the dunes.”

All you could do was sigh and nod.

“It was the right thing to do.”

“No, no it wasn’t!” Paul insisted. “They’re holy! They’re special mice, they collect water with their ears-”

“And they burrow into our food stores and eat our flour and grain!” you snapped. “They’re pests! The desert is a merciful, swift way to die. They will be fine.”

Paul stood there, chest heaving and face flushed.

“She just left them.” Paul huffed.

His expression and emotions weren’t correlated to the issue at hand.

“This isn’t about the mice, is it?” you asked quietly. 

“No. No it’s not. My Father died and she moved on in a few months. It’s not fair. It’s like she never loved him.” Paul huffed.

Standing on two feet, you walked over to the distraught, comically skinny teenage boy.

“She does. She mourns him every night. Mostly in silence. Some nights she calls me to her chambers to catch her tears when she isn’t strong enough to bear the pain. I’m a comfort. And you will learn that sex and closeness with another can be a coping mechanism for some.” you answered, squeezing his shoulders. “I’m not replacing the man your mother loved. I’m just here to help her along and keep her upright on the days where getting up seems impossible.”

Paul stayed still. He processed quietly.

“Okay.” he said, not convinced.

“I’m a bit like how Chani is to you. She’s a companion on your journey. You lift each other up. You aren’t life partners quite yet, but you mean something to one another.”

The boy took deep, heaving breaths, restraining himself from tears. You knew how hard it was. 

“Paul.” came Jessica’s gentle alto, drifting in from the entrance to her room. “I miss him every day.”

Paul turned, mother and son meeting each other's eyes, both restraining their own tears. You bid him goodbye with a squeeze, leaving the room for their privacy. When Jessica sent for you a few hours later, Paul was asleep on the cot. Her arms found your waist, and she offered a rare kiss.

“Thank you. We needed that conversation.” Jessica murmured.

You smiled, awkwardly holding her, even with her large belly in the way. Her hands strayed, taking slow paths down your shoulders and spine.

“Perhaps we can thank each other.” Jessica whispered.

“Paul is right there.” you whispered, a bit mortified.

“He won’t hear.” she promised, attempting to pull you behind a folding privacy screen.

“I heard that.” Paul sleepily commented.

Jessica, the poor, pregnant Jessica with an inflamed body, sore feet and an aching, lost it. For just a moment. The madness flickered in her eyes before she took a deep breath in. Paul stumbled to his feet, walking towards the door. 

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” he sighed, slipping past the sietch curtains.

You didn’t get a break, Jessica’s mouth finding your neck to lay several long kisses there. Clothes went flying, both of you skipping the presumptives after a day of having been interrupted again and again by Paul’s antics. Jessica’s legs were over your shoulders, your mouth finally encircling her aching core when a little hand pressed out. The string of cuss words spilling from Jessica’s lips was all you needed to know.

Alia had woken up. 

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[cheesecakethots]

Listen to me, it's simple and effective high school AU yan chrollo.

what i get from this is like

chrollo is a pretty popular dude in school, he’s got a lot of friends (the troupe), girls love him, and he gets the best grades in the school.

yet, you still can’t bring yourself to like him. you’re pretty much a loner and in your eyes he’s this pompous asshole that always loves correcting you whenever you answer a question, or even sometimes has the gall to look over your work as though he’s a teacher and not your classmate.

it’s even more infuriating that you’re always second to him, in everything.

recently he’s been bothering you a lot more. it’s as though he actively seeks you out, usually when you’re in the library. you’re certain he gets such perverted enjoyment in slotting up behind you and grabbing a book you were struggling to reach. might even be cheeky enough to ask you to say please and thank you to get it.

you try to avoid him, but it doesn’t help that his friends also try and reign you in. you swear that feitan and phinks follow you down hallways, acting as “guard dogs” that keep quite literally everyone away. It’s very irritating, and you’ve told them off about it numerous times.

and suddenly pakunoda and machi need the toilet the second you go, as though you’re going to get hurt while you go for a piss. somehow.

it gets worse the more you try and avoid chrollo. one day you might find yourself skipping class (because he’s there), sat by a tree and reading only for that big brute uvogin to come along, sling you over his shoulder and take you back.

chrollo seems to find it all very funny. you’re not sure as to why he seems so interested in annoying you to death, but he’s doing a pretty good job of it.

you’ll be thanking god by the time your final years come, with plans to go to a university that is as far as you can go.

and this is where i get stuck.

i can see chrollo being the type of guy to just apply to the same university as you, and follow you wherever you go after that until you hopefully somehow fall in love with him.

i can also see him being the type of guy who’s pretty rich, despite being an orphan it seems he started making business decisions at a very young age that landed him a lot of money in the long run.

your school plans a final dance for everyone to say goodbye to each other before leaving. you were considering skipping it, but ended up being forced to by your parents.

you don’t plan on drinking the very little alcohol bought by the school, but when chrollo strolls over, drinks in hand, you figure one won’t kill you. you still think he’s an asshole, but you have to admit you respect how smart he is. might as well drink to that, right?

the rest of the night is a blur. when you come to, you can hardly remember anything, but you’re certain you only had that one drink.

there’s definitely worse things to worry about though, with how you’ve woken up in an exquisite bedroom that is most definitely not yours.