#i think considering I’ve really been digging the boys

[katierosefun]

sometimes u just gotta wear a white tee shirt and black jeans and manspread in your silly little desk chair and pretend you’re a sexc little anti-hero to cope with the horrors of living

[slut4nicholas]

𝙊𝙃, 𝙁𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙄 𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝙎𝙄𝙉𝙉𝙀𝘿 𝙄 | 𝙁𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙀

a/n: i haven't started the show yet, so I'm not familiar with his character in this show. please forgive my cluelessness during this fic.

summary: the reader goes to the church to confess to the priest that she recently sinned. however, the father decides to have some fun of his own.

warnings: mention of religion, 18+, missionary, loss of virginity, oral(fem & m receiving) fingering, nipple play, praise kink, pet names like doll,sweetheart,baby, mentions of anal, spanking, degrading, corruption kink, almost caught

˖⋆࿐໋

growing up in a religious household, i have developed a deep appreciation for my catholic roots. whenever I feel overwhelmed by sadness, anger, or depression, I find solace in the church.

today i couldn't help but feel a tremendous amount of guilt. i found myself hanging out with a boy, and things got a bit physical. even though we didn't go too far, i couldn't help but feel ashamed. i had promised to wait until marriage, but these uncontrollable desires keep creeping up. i've decided to go to the church to talk to the father about my recent activities and confess my sins.

as i made my way to the church, i felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation. i'm meeting with father charlie, a young and attractive man who’s also the priest at the church, which is not something you typically expect in the church. i haven't had a chance to speak with him one-on-one yet, so im feeling a bit apprehensive about what our conversation will entail.

i open the big doors to the church to see it completely empty just to find charlie sitting down on one the church benches.

“hello there” he calls out.

"father, there's something weighing heavily on my heart that I need to share with you," i said as I hurried to sit next to him.

i can feel that irritating uneasy sensation in my stomach. I didn't even give him a proper greeting. the guilt was so overwhelming that it made me stumble over my words.

"what is it y/n?" he turns all of his attention towards me, his big brown eyes digging into mine, as if anticipating something significant.

“i don’t know who to talk to, i can’t talk to my parents about this especially my own father. i’ve been feeling really guil-“

he interrupted me with a gentle smile and placed his hand on my shoulder, assuring me that everything would be okay and letting me know that he was a safe person to talk to.

“father, i need to confess something. i kissed a boy, and he kissed me back. he started to touch me, but i stopped him. i made a promise to the lord, and i feel terrible for breaking it”

as the tears welled up in my eyes, i instinctively dropped my face into my hands, seeking refuge from the overwhelming emotions.

"hey, it's going to be okay," charlie said in a gentle, caring tone as he stroked my hair, trying to comfort me.

“now tell me, did you guys fuck?”

as those words reached my ears, i couldn't help but look up at him, shaking my head as the tears continued to fall.

oh no, i hope he's not going to make me feel even worse.

“no father i swear-“

"shh, no swearing in the church," he said, raising his finger to his lips with a smirk. the irony wasn't lost on him, considering he had just dropped the f-bomb.

it was so quiet for a whole minute, and I started feeling really awkward. i had come all this way hoping for some advice or comfort, but it seemed like he just didn't care.

as I stood up, charlie grabbed my arm, forcing me to sit back down. “i didn't say you could leave. where do you think you're going?”

he replied coldly, smirking, “always so forgiving. it's kind of pathetic”

i stared at him, utterly perplexed, not really sure what he was talking about.

“father, isn't forgiveness what the church is all about?”

“sometimes, but in this case, i really want you to show me how sorry you are. otherwise, you're just going to keep committing the same sin over and over again. you don't want that, right? you don't want your parents to find out how desperate their innocent little girl has become, do you?"

i couldn't believe what i was hearing from charlie. i never expected him to act this way, let alone say things like this. i was at a loss for words and didn't know how to react. all i could do was nod in agreement. the last thing i wanted was for my parents to find out.

“father, i think i should go”

"why are you suddenly so shy, doll?" his hand on my chin made me tilt my head to stare at him.

"you don't think i notice how you look at me during mass when I'm speaking on the stand? you've become so needy that you sometimes cross your legs to stop yourself from feeling those emotions you want to avoid so badly," he says while caressing my cheek, gently rubbing his thumb on my bottom lip.

"i know you think of me taking you to the point where you can't even think straight, cum dripping out of you while i use you for my pleasure. you don't think i notice that? the way you avoid eye contact with me”

“i don’t know what your talking about father”

charlie’s hand rested lightly on my thigh, sending a spark of electricity coursing through my body. as his fingers inched toward the top of my skirt, pushing the fabric up just a little, my breath caught in my throat. each slow movement seemed to stretch time, heightening my senses and igniting a thrilling tension i couldn't ignore.

it felt deceptively wrong—the kind of reckless abandon that sent a shiver down my spine—but the anticipation was intoxicating, and I craved more. my mind raced, caught between instinct and hesitation, as the warmth of his touch settled into a deep hunger, one i found increasingly impossible to resist.

i glanced up, searching his eyes for a sign, a cue that this was more than just a fleeting moment. we held a playful challenge, a promise of the passion we both knew was simmering beneath the surface. my heart raced with excitement and fear, the boundaries of right and wrong blurring into a sweet confusion. with every breath, i felt the world around us fade away, lost to the undeniable chemistry pulsing in the air. i didn’t want to stop it; I wanted to let go completely and dive headfirst into whatever was coming next.

“do you want this as much as I want this?" charlie's voice broke through the haze of my thoughts, causing my heart to race in an unholy rhythm. i felt his gaze resettle upon me, a weight both thrilling and terrifying. my mind was a jumble, each beat vying for clarity as i struggled to focus on anything but him.

his eyes—the deep pools of mischief and longing—held me captive, swaying me like a fragile leaf in a rising storm. the blueprint of his desires flickered behind those intense brown eyes, and my cheeks burned with a shameful blush. I could hear the hymns of the service fade into background noise, a distant echo that paled against the ferocity of this moment.

what was wrong with me? i shouldn’t be feeling this way, not here—certainly not in a house of worship. my skirt brushed against my legs, reminding me of the innocence i used to wear like armor, now discarded in the face of this ravenous yearning. charlie wanted me. craved me. it was a dangerous temptation that had taken root within me, whispering sweet nothings that urged me to give in.

the candlelit corners of the church bathed in shadows, the lure was overwhelming. each passing week at mass had been an exercise in restraint, a careful balancing act over a precipice of emotion. seeing him near the altar in his crisp shirt—as though god himself had stitched him together purely for me—seemed more sublimely wrong every time.

as his eyes swept over me, i wondered if he could sense the tension glittering between us, thick and electrifying like charged air before a storm. j licked my lips, torn between the sanctity of the aisle and the allure of his promise. "I need you, doll. I can't deny it anymore," he murmured like a sin freshly minted from temptation's forge.

i felt a tumultuous wave of conflicting emotions surging within me. the whispered prayers seemed empty as an overwhelming desire ignited like an uncontrollable inferno. "father” i gasped, but the air escaped me, filled with forbidden possibilities. despite everything, all i could focus on were his lips drawing nearer to mine, as if the world around us faded away, leaving only the intense magnetism between us.

in that sacred moment, beneath the flickering lights, surrounded by silence begging to be heard, we hovered on the brink of something vast and insatiable. would we give in? would grace curdle into passion? ignoring the whisper of consequence felt like my true struggle—should we tiptoe across this brittle line, or confess that hunger has only one unyielding answer? together.

as I processed what was happening, a surge of warmth enveloped me, and i found myself surrendering to the moment. his lips danced across the sensitive skin of my neck, light as a whisper but charging the air with electricity. a small moan escaped my lips, betraying the whirlwind of emotions stirring within me. i could feel his smirk, a secret shared just between us, brushing against my skin, simultaneously teasing and thrilling.

his hand roamed over my thigh, a firm yet gentle grip that sent a shiver cascading through my body. "that's it, such a good girl for me," he purred, his voice a low whisper that thrummed like a melody in my ears, both lustful and tender. each word dripped with a promise, igniting the fire kindling deep within me, blurring the boundaries between desire and surrender.

lost in this intoxicating closeness, i reveled in the sensations; the world beyond shifted and faded, leaving only his teasing caresses and the seductive intimacy that enveloped us—a balance of power and vulnerability, inviting me to cross the threshold into unknown territory.

"father, i really don’t think we should be doing this here. It just doesn’t feel right. what if we get caught?" i watched as charlie sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration, clearly torn between desire and caution.

"you’re right," he replied, his voice low and raspy, "but it’s late, and I don’t think anyone’s going to wander into the church at this hour. just relax, sweetheart."

i hesitated for a moment, then nodded, the thrill of the forbidden sending a shiver down my spine. i reached out, intertwining my fingers with his, bringing his hand to my lips and sucking gently on his long fingers. his eyes locked onto mine, filled with a primal hunger that made my heart race. i could see it in his expression—the desperate need to claim me, to tear away any barrier between us.

the air was thick with anticipation, and i could almost feel the weight of his longing as he shifted closer, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. the dim light from the stained glass windows cast a soft glow around us, amplifying the intensity of the moment. i could sense the tension building, a thrilling mix of danger and desire, as he leaned in, caught in the magnetic pull that seemed to draw us together like moths to a flame.

we were on the edge of something wild and reckless, and in that sacred space, everything felt possible.

charlie withdrew his fingers, his intention clear as he replaced them with his warm, teasing tongue. it slipped into my mouth, exploring with a fervor that sent electric shivers through my entire body. he held my neck gently yet possessively, urging me closer, deeper, igniting a fire that burned between us.

i kissed him back with equal intensity, a thrilling battle for dominance that left us both breathless. the taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mixture of desire and urgency that made my heart race. every flick of his tongue ignited a wave of pleasure, pooling low in my belly and making it almost impossible to think straight.

the heat of the moment consumed me; i could feel my body responding instinctively to his every move. the sweet tension built inside me, and i knew i needed him—needed to feel him against me, to drown in that wild connection we shared. my panties were already soaked, a testament to the overwhelming desire coursing through my veins.

charlie pushes my panties to the side allowing his already wet fingers from my saliva to dance around my clothed heat growling like a predator hungry for its prey “let me show you how a real man is supposed to make you feel darling, those little boys wouldn’t know how to handle something so precious like you. i can make you feel so good you wouldn’t be able to walk straight for days”

as he pumps his fingers in out of me the sweet sounds filling up the quiet church was enough for the both of us to go crazy “more father please” he smirked at my neediness removing his fingers out of me putting them up to mouth to signaling me to suck the sweet juices off of his fingers then going back in for a quick rub of my clit

charlie stood up getting ready to unbuckle his pants but before he could even do that a voice filled up the quiet room which caused me to jump and act quick closing my legs and hiding my exposed area “father charlie i’ve been looking everywhere for you” an older lady shouts from across the room as she appears to be in desperate need of his help

he sighed and i took that as my sign to leave before we both do something we might regret later, charlie keeps his gaze on me the entire time “hi, ill be with you in a moment” he spoke up the lady stops in her tracks wondering what a young woman was doing here at almost midnight with the priest of the church she was curious but nothing crossed her mind as she was desperate to talk to the priest

charlie followed me out of the church closing the door behind us “this isn’t over sweetheart” he placed a kiss on my forehead as he walked back into the church.

˖⋆࿐໋

a/n: omggg i hope you guys like this!! i’ve spent almost a day and a half working on this just for you all especially the person who requested this, i will be making this into a little series since it was getting pretty long! anyways i really hope you guys enjoyed this, remember feel free to request anything!

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Kinktober day 8 | Tate Langdon x Reader

Day 8: mommy kink

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: 18+, grinding, praising, slight degrading, overstimulation,

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

—

‘’I like when you do that.’’ 

‘’Do what?’’ 

‘’Fix my hair when it gets in my face. Run your hand down my back when I’m laying down. Make sure I ate today,’’ he explained as you rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand as you held hands on the way home, sensing his anxiety after a long day. You had a knack for knowing exactly what he needed. ‘’Take care of me.’’ 

‘’I just love you. People take care of the ones they love,’’ you said simply. 

Tate looked down at the sidewalk, his old converses suddenly very interesting to look at. ‘’I’ve never had anyone taking care of me before,’’ he admitted, feeling a lump of sadness settling in his stomach. 

His words made your heart ache. It was rare Tate would bring up his home life, preferring to escape it than bother you with his problems, but you knew Constance never really took good care of Tate — or any of her children. She was a terrible and neglectful mother, blaming the end of her acting career on him when her failure came from herself. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it when you couldn’t find the words. Instead, you squeezed his hand and walked the rest of the way to your house in silence. 

*

A few days later, you were watching a movie in your bed when your phone buzzed with a message from Tate. He hadn’t been able to come over today because Constance had invited her new boyfriend for dinner and wanted everyone to be there. 

From Tate: Can I come over? I’m already outside… 

Pushing your blanket off your body, you paused your movie and went downstairs, opening the door instead of texting him back. 

You found him sitting on your porch with his hands covering his face, looking like he had been there for a few minutes. His eyes were a bit red, matching his sore-bitten lips. It was a stark contrast to the green of his sweater.

‘’I had an argument with my mom and her new toy,’’ Tate explained once he was in the comfort of your bedroom. He rubbed at his face, attempting to erase the traces of his emotions. 

You nodded, sitting on the bed beside him. ‘’Do you want to talk about it?’’ 

He shook his head, not wishing to repeat what had been said. ‘’Can you just hold me? Please.’’

Without a word, you opened your arms, and Tate nestled into your embrace, giving him the love and comfort Constance failed to give her son. 

‘’Whatever has been said at that dinner, just know that your mother is wrong,’’ you spoke softly after a moment, your head resting on top of his as he held you tight. ‘’You’re loved and wanted and you didn't ruin her life, okay? Not you or Addie.’’ 

He sniffled and nodded against your chest. ‘’I love you too.’’ 

After a moment, his hold loosened, slowly calming down…and undoubtedly noticing the absence of a bra through your shirt. Lucky boy. You fought a smile, having not considered your attire when you went downstairs to get the door. 

‘’Do you feel comfortable like this?’’ you asked, breaking the silence.

Tate smiled smugly against your shirt, nodding. ‘’Very. They’re so soft and comfortable. I wish I could fall asleep like that at night.’’  

‘’Do you want me to take my shirt off?’’ you whispered, taking him by surprise. 

He nodded again, detaching himself from you so you could take off your shirt and fell back against your pillows in a more comfortable position. 

When you first suggested it, you didn’t think it would take a sexual turn, but Tate’s mouth began kissing at your breasts while his hands were massaging and kneading, fingers digging into soft flesh. God, he loved your tits. 

You would be lying if you said this wasn’t pleasurable. Tate was gentle and loving with his touches and kisses, savoring the moment. Your hand naturally found its way to his hair, running through his blond strands and encouraging him to keep going. 

Then, you began feeling something press against your thigh. 

‘’Not my fault. I can’t control what my dick does.’’

You bit back a laugh. ‘’Do you want me to take care of it?’’ Your hand wandered between your bodies to rub his hardening cock over his pants. 

Tate whimpered and pushed into your touch. ‘’Please.’’ 

He lifted his head from your chest, his eyes still red but no longer teary, and you motioned to take your spot and lay against your pillows.

‘’Mommy’s gonna take good care of you,’’ you promised, leaning down to give him a sweet kiss. ‘’I’m gonna make you feel so good, Tate. So good you’re gonna forget about tonight.’’

That’s exactly what he needed.

With your help, Tate discarded his pants and boxers, causing his cock to slap against his stomach. It must not have felt good straining against his stiff jeans. 

‘’Does that feel good, baby?’’ you asked, slowly running one finger over his sensitive length, teasing him.

He nodded, a shaky breath slipping from his lips. ‘’Y-yes.’’

You did it again, this time ending your stroke by brushing your thumb over the head. 

Tate whimpered, his hips jerking upwards and causing his sweater to ride up his stomach, flashing a trail of light blond hair. You leaned down to kiss it. 

‘’Such a good boy,’’ you praised, continuing to jerk him with your delicate hand. 

You could jerk him off until he spilled, but you decided to have some fun and try something else. Withdrawing your hand, Tate started sitting up. 

‘’Where are you going?’’ he asked, sounding alarmed. 

‘’I’m not going anywhere,’’ you reassured, caressing his thigh. ‘’Don’t worry.’’ 

Nodding, he settled back and watched you move, licking his lips as you removed your pajama bottoms and underwear. His deep brown eyes gave your body a look over, loving everything he was seeing. The natural fall of your breasts and the reddish-mauve mark his mouth left behind, the tiny mole right below your navel that no one but him had noticed, the scar on your calf from when you shaved and accidentally cut yourself. 

‘’You’re so pretty, Mommy. Can I have a kiss?’’ 

It was so nicely asked, you couldn’t deny him. 

You swung a leg over to straddle him, your hands rubbing his hips as his thick cock rested against his stomach, hard and leaking at the tip. The sight almost made the arousal between your legs drip. Your eyes met Tate's as you rose up on your knees, but instead of sinking down on his cock, you lowered yourself on the length and grinded your slick folds along it.

He moaned from the slightest bit of friction, feeling your pussy sliding languidly along his cock.

 A smirk drew across your lips, moving torturously slow. 

Tate whimpered your name, his voice laced with frustration and desire. 

‘’What is it, baby? Is this not what you wanted?’’ you asked coyly, the sound of your arousal mixing with his pre-cum filling the room. 

You saw his eyes dart down to where your genitals were touching, rubbing together. ‘’Mommy, plea-please,’’ he whined, his cock twitching and about to burst. 

You knew what he wanted, but you weren’t going to give it to him — yet. 

‘’Are you close, baby?’’ 

He closed his eyes and gripped the sheets as his stomach spasmed. ‘’I’m gonna cum, I wanna cum.’’ 

‘’Don’t hold back, baby, you can cum.’’

Ropes and ropes of white cum then spilled onto Tate's smooth stomach, his climax hitting, but you didn’t stop like he thought you would. No. You decided to push his limits and tease him until he couldn’t take it, watching his hips lifting off the bed as his orgasm came again and again, ropes of cum shooting out of his cock and adding to the mess. You were surprised he could still cum like that. 

‘’Can't cum anymore. So sensitive,’’ he said with tear-stained cheeks, whimpering through his orgasm and a little after it was done.

‘’You want me to stop?’’

‘’Please.’’ 

You caressed his cheek, wiping some of the tears. ‘’But I haven’t put it in yet...’’

—

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[missberrycake]

So, I know we all love the headcanon that Eddie moved in with Wayne when he was a teen or a pre-teen, be it because one or both parents died, chucked him out, are in prison, etc. But! I’ve been thinking about another option.

What if Wayne has been looking after Eddie since he was a toddler?

It all comes as a bit of a shock to Wayne who, in his early forties, had pretty much assumed he’d missed the boat on the whole ‘kids’ thing. And yet, here he is, taking in his baby nephew when his brother turns up on his doorstep one day.

When it starts, it’s only supposed to be for a short while. His brother’s wife is newly out of the picture (it’s a crying shame, Wayne had liked her, she’d stayed a gentle soul throughout) and he just needs some time to get himself sorted, right? But then a week turns into a month, turns into two months, turns into half a year and Wayne? Well, he gets attached to the kid, so sue him. 

Because little Eddie is a rambunctious boy. He’s full of gummy smiles and bubbling laughter and Wayne runs himself in circles trying to stop him from toddling into sharp corners and sockets and yards of rope. The two of them are well suited, it seems, and Wayne takes to settling Eddie on his knee in the evenings and going through the races for the next day in the paper.

Eddie chooses a winner more than once. 

Every day, when Wayne comes to pick him up from Julia’s two trailers over (he’s still got to work, something his brother hadn’t considered before he left, or maybe he didn’t care), Eddie greets him with his arms out, already chatting away with the handful of phrases that he knows. 

The boy’s hair is soft and his cheeks smooth and if Wayne gets a little sentimental when he tucks him into bed at night, then nobody else needs to know, do they?

He’s a sweet boy. He deserves someone to care for him. 

So when his brother turns up again with vague mutterings about there being some work for him down in Florida, Wayne’s chest aches. 

“What’s your plan for the littl'un?” he asks.

“Ed? Whad’ya mean?”

“I mean, have you got a place to stay lined up? Who’s gonna look after him while you’re working?”

“I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

He shrugs and Wayne feels something close to panic bubbling in his veins. When he suggests that perhaps his brother should travel ahead, get himself settled first before sending for Eddie, he doesn’t expect him to agree so readily. He can’t say he’s much surprised though. 

The entire exchange doesn’t take more than ten minutes and his brother doesn’t ask after Eddie once, doesn’t show any desire to see him, doesn’t even step inside the trailer—not one jot of fatherly affection shines through. 

It only occurs to Wayne that evening that perhaps this was the outcome his brother wanted. But, hell, it’s fine with him—he’ll let him think he’s winning. Wayne knows who’s got the real prize here. 

He doesn’t mention the visit to Eddie, the kid doesn’t need to know, too busy digging holes and collecting bugs. 

Just like he expected, his brother never sends for the boy. They get letters for the first few years, poorly wrapped and ill-thought through trinkets for the kid’s birthday and Christmas, but it’s not long until they fall by the wayside too. 

Once Eddie’s older, they have a conversation about it. Have to, really, when Eddie comes home from preschool and is full to the brim of questions, because apparently Peter Gillespie says that everyone has to have a mom and a dad, “and I know I have a mom because you’ve told me about her and I said that she’s not around and Mrs. Lang told Peter to be quiet but then I thought about it, but I don’t know, ‘cause you’re my dad, right? I know I don’t call you dad, but that’s what you are, isn’t it? Because what else would you be and Peter says I have to have one.”

It floors Wayne for a moment, but he recovers quickly. He leads Eddie to the couch where he sets him on his lap. For the next while the two of them look through all the pictures that Wayne can find of Eddie’s mom and Wayne’s brother. Wayne makes sure to hold him close and tells him it doesn’t matter that he’s ‘just’ his uncle, that he loves him as much as he would a kid of his own, that he’ll always be around to take care of him. And Eddie takes it all in his stride, in the way only children can. 

“So I can’t call you dad?” he asks.

Wayne lets out a long breath, rubs at his jaw. 

“It’s not that you can’t, kiddo, it’s just that I ain’t.“ 

Because it feels a little like stealing. What would happen, if one day his brother came back and found his kid calling Wayne ‘Dad’. If the boot were on the other foot, Wayne would be angry as all heck. And there was still time, wasn’t there? For his brother to see the error of his ways? Who was Wayne to keep all of that from Eddie? 

“Okay,” Eddie says quietly. “Uncle Wayne is still good.”

“Oh, it’s still good, is it?” Wayne crows and squeezes Eddie tight. “I’m sure glad I meet your high standards, your majesty.”

Eddie just giggles at that. He always giggles when Wayne puts on his voices. 

“And what would the esteemed gentleman like for dinner tonight, huh? The options are spaghetti hoops, spaghetti hoops, or - now let me think. Oh! Spaghetti hoops.”

The nail in the coffin comes one day in the summer of 1978, just before Eddie’s twelfth birthday. It’s been over eight years since his brother dropped him off in search of better things and sure, there have been some days where Wayne has been tearing his hair out, but through all of it he knows he made the right decision that day in the doorway of the trailer. He wouldn’t change Eddie for the world, and he knows by now that there are some out there that would, who would only see the difficult or the different in him, but isn’t that what being a parent is? Loving your kid no matter what? Seeing the good in them and helping them see it themselves?

When his brother slams the door shut on some car so shiny that Wayne wonders if it’s fresh out of the packet, he knows they’re in for some trouble. 

“Nice car, man,” Eddie whistles from where he’d been lounging on the plastic chairs out the front of the trailer. Clearly the sight of something so drenched in luxury in their neighbourhood makes it so that he just can’t help himself.

Wayne’s brother grunts in that way that he always did when they were younger, like he’d gotten away with something. 

Wayne just watches, then, as his brother nods at the book in Eddie’s hands. “A reader, are you?” he says, a joke in his voice. “What’s this? Always knew there were brains in the family somewhere.”

“It’s ‘Lord of the Rings’,” Eddie replies, uncertain. His gaze flicks to Wayne, who nods. Funny, that the kid was quiet now, he’d been ranting and raving to Wayne about that goddamn book every spare second of the week. “It’s got orcs and wizards and elves in and stuff.”

“Fairytales?” his brother scoffs. It grates on Wayne like a physical thing. “What you been doing to the boy, Wayne? Here.” He turns back to Eddie. “You know me, kid?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“I’m your old man! So you like cars, do you? Want to go for a spin in her?”

“You don’t have to Eddie. Not if you don’t want,” Wayne pipes up then. He knows his boy well enough that he can see the internal war going on behind his eyes. And, hell, it is a nice car. Eddie bites his lip and stares at Wayne, eyes wide, asking permission.

“‘Course he wants to.” And his brother is already walking back to the driver’s side door. He winks at Eddie. “Gotta lot of catching up to do, ain’t we?”

“Hold this for me?” Eddie asks and hands Wayne his book before jogging away.

There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach when Wayne watches the dust trail behind the car as it leaves the trailer park. He sits out on the porch all afternoon, eyes flashing towards the road every few minutes. It isn’t until almost dusk that it careens into the park once more. 

The passenger door slams violently and Eddie stomps towards him.

“He’s not my dad,” he splutters as he pushes his face against Wayne’s shoulder. Wayne can feel where his cheeks are hot and flushed.

Cradling the back of Eddie’s head with one hand, he mutters gently, “Yeah, son, I know.”

And how had he ever thought that man could be Eddie’s father? No, Eddie may still call him ‘Uncle Wayne’, but they’ve gone well beyond that and both of them know it.

Directing Eddie back inside the trailer, Wayne sends a small nod to his brother where the man is still lingering by his car door, looking faintly murderous. 

Let him try, he thinks. No one’s taking his boy from him now, come hell or high water.

[Yeah, I'm scouring the archives and trying to salvage as many headcanons as I can from my old deleted account, but let's just pretend this is brand new content.]

[scramratz]

Rant abt your Cds I'm curious

OK HERE GOES SCRAMS 2024 CD COLLECTION TIER LIST

(Disclaimer: these are just my personal opinions and if yours differ from mine, fine. It’s not a sin to be wrong)

S TIER-

Goo-Sonic Youth: Straight bangers all the way through. Girls love it when you show them your Sonic Youth cd. Extra points cuz the pamphlet unfolds into a sick poster

Midnight Vultures-Beck: Good album to clean the house to. Every song a banger. Beck as a person sets off alarms, though 🤔

Vivadixiesubmarinetransmissionplot-Sparklehorse: Genuinely my favorite artist and album of all time. Fall asleep to Homecoming Queen often.

Siamese Dream-Smashing Pumpkins: Fire straight though. Good when you’re in a depressed 20-something mood. Better than Mellon Collie in my humble opinion.

Gorillaz-Gorillaz: The start of one of my favorite bands and objectively one of the best bands in the world don’t fight me on it I’ll kill you.

A TIER-

Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots-The Flaming Lips: Solid album. Iconic cover art. “Do You Realize??” always got me feeling feelings

Violent Femmes-Violent Femmes: Top 3 favorite band. Every song went platinum in my household. Would have been higher but reminds me of my mom too much.

Dig Me Out- Sleater-Kinney: Got it because the name sounded familiar. Ended up loving them! Doesn’t sound right if it’s not played loud, though, and considering I live in an apartment, I don’t play it often.

Fear Yourself-Daniel Johnston: Got it because I love “Hi, How Are You” but haven’t been able to find it anywhere. Was pleasantly surprised! Hits the same melancholy spot but slightly more upbeat.

Figure 8-Elliot Smith: My favorite sad boy that definitely DIDN’T kill himself. Not my favorite Elliot album but every one of his albums is A tier personally.

The Diary of Alicia Keys-Alicia Keys: WENT QUADRUPLE PLATINUM IN OUR HOUSEHOLD. Prime cleaning the house on Sunday music. Dragon Days is seriously underrated.

Garbage-Garbage: Don’t know how to say this without sounding insane but this album sounds like the color #DC007F and I like that color a lot

2-Mac Demarco: The CHOKEHOLD Mac Demarco had on us artschool bitches in 2016 OMG. Was gonna change my name to Viceroy

B TIER-

Money for Nothing- Dire Straits: Top tier dad music.

Lumine fever- The Adrenals: Got it cuz the cover looked cool. Was pleasantly surprised! They rock the adequate amount

Rocket to Russia- Ramones: They’re good but I don’t get the hype honestly. They’re the Flavor-Aid of Punk

Starfish- The Church: Only love one song on it, the only song anyone likes tbh. The rest are your standard 80s deal

Crooked Rain-Pavement: I really love Pavement but there is a thing as too much Pavement and I think I’ve reached it

Yankee Hotel Foxtrot-Wilco: Honestly should have been in A tier but all the pretentious music dudes I’ve met has soured this album for me so it goes in B outta spite. Jesus Etc my fave song tho

An Evening with Silk Sonic- Silk Sonic: Nice, short, gets me in a happy mood. Does what it needs to do!

Prolonging the Magic- Cake: John McCrea don’t really be singing, do he? He just fancy talkin

C TIER-

Gigantic, Fuel, and The Nixons: I got all 3 on sale and they all sound the same and that sound is…ok? Like it’s alright background music

Blind Melon-Blind Melon: What was with 90’s bands putting random kids as their album covers? Decent listen, though.

Summerteeth-Wilco: Good background music. I can’t remember any songs off it.

Los Angeles/Wild Gift-X: I like X but I hate that fucking album art omg it’s so hard to look at. I like their songs individually but as a cohesive album, eh.

D TIER-

Throwing Copper-Live: bought it on sale with the above 3 but liked this one substantially less. Only redeeming quality to me is the album art.

Ben Folds Five-Ben Folds Five: Misleading considering there’s only 3 of them. He sounds like my ex boyfriend from highschool before I realized I liked girls

F Tier-

The Ragetones/Fall Apart-The Ragetones: Saw them play at a shitting basement show. Everything sounds better when you can barely hear yourself think.

F Punk-Big Audio Dynamite: Found it at the thrift and rehomed it outta pity. Sounds like the 80s in a bad way.

[thenonbinarydetective]

Do you like the official wayne family adventures? It has everything any batfam fan would want.....But sometimes I feel like they all kinda have the same personality.....shouldn't dick be with titans or starfire....why is he back with Bruce?

EDIT: REMINDER THIS IS MY OPINION. IT IS NOT A DISCUSSION OR ARGUMENT.

It’s what tumblr fanon fans who actively go out of their way to shit on comics wants. To be precise. I’ve been shitting on the behavior of some truly awful people on here for like several years so if anyone reading this is surprised and offended. I don’t care.

No I really don’t like it. The better personalities are the girls really. But even then it’s not great. The boys and Bruce especially are full copy and paste. But honestly that’s the only way they can get what they want to work without digging too deep

That’s kinda the main problem I have with it and many others who do that it’s very surface level fluff rather than actually challenging the “angst” in the comics. I’m only putting it in quotes because to some angst is when it isn’t sunshine and rainbows all the time.

I don’t think it has a good argument, for lack of a better word (still works I just want a different one that I can’t remember rn) for being what it is. And also creating that weirdly rancid, occasionally violent and pretentious fanbase that accuses comic fans of doing that no matter what they say or do. Like some people suck but you dont need essays when people point out flaws in WFA. Of which it has some pretty obvious ones. Aside from batfam characterization their Talia characterization just rubs me the wrong way. Like I know it’s been worse but it’s just not giving what it should.

I think dickbabs is supposed to be canon there or at least people act like it. Idk a lot of their reactions can still read platonic which is why WFA readers try to say it’s batcest. If that answers your starfire question. Technically this should be set at a time where dick wasn’t fully friends with the titans again. Although it’s an au, they could probably just fix that for their obscenely happy go lucky attitude

But if you’re asking why starfire and Roy should be far away from the outlaws title, you’d be right. You can call me dramatic but it was lowkey shitty of them to include them considering the damage it did to their characters. Especially Kory.

Yeah dick should be actually independent. But again it’s family fluff over solid characterization so the umbilical cord isn’t cut yet

It’s negatively effecting comics too. Pushing that coffee Tim bullshit, “feral” Damian, and emotional support dick. The Damian one pisses me off most of all because they really had him pull a knife in a formal affair out of annoyance when that boy was raised an AL GHUL until he went to Bruce. Like if he’s drawing a knife it’s for a formalized duel. Not on an unwitting old woman. But even then I’m not sure I’m forgiving.

Oh and DUKE. Duke gets his own paragraph. Jesus fucking Christ did they do him dirty. Absolute boring cardboard cut out of a child. That also gets mildly sidelined for a comic that began with his narration. I get it’s a group thing but like why did some chapters seem to forget about him completely when they stripped him of every ounce of personality to turn him into a reader insert? God I hate it

There’s a lot of problems with it but apparently when you talk about it you’re in for a “let people enjoy things” lecture from someone who doesn’t actually let people enjoy things. I mean some WFA stans cry webtoon if you talk about the slightest amount of negativity. Claiming they need to be healed. Idk with what because WFA is basically a placebo of a comic

[princessbrunette]

he didn’t expect an attitude at first. not from deer!reader, it would be too out of character.

he awakens to the sound of a voice that isn’t yours, seemingly playing from your phone. it wasn’t rare that you’d wake up before him and entertain yourself until he’s awake, whether that be reading or listening to one of your bizarre podcasts. today, you had clearly chosen the latter and as he comes into consciousness he’s met with the droning voice that relays the information.

‘so what psychological effects does cannibalism have on a human being? well that all depends on whether or not the participant was willingly—’

pope frowns, tuning out of the morbid details and yawns, body tensing up with a long stretch as he wakes himself up. with a gentle smile on his face, happy to have slept by your side for the first time all week — his eyes flutter open, seeing you sat up facing away from him in the bed, concentrated on the information being relayed to you.

usually, as soon as you hear him stir you’re all over him, softly rousing him from his slumber with kisses all over his cheeks, your eyelashes tickling him and getting him to chuckle. whilst you not bothering with this could have been a first sign pointing to your mood, pope was too disorientated with sleep to think anything of it, and simply reached out to touch the soft skin of your back.

“hey, good morning.” he coo’s, voice still raspy from sleep.

“mm.” you hum in response, and he puts it down to you being super concentrated on your podcast. infact, at the time he found it adorable.

once he’s up and ready, it’s then he notices that you’re even quieter than usual. when you speak, your answers are short and dare he say even snappy. he gives it time, trusting you to tell him what was wrong when you were ready. lack of communication hadn’t really been a problem in your relationship, considering you were typically well behaved 100% of the time — so still, your boyfriend wasn’t worried.

after a chillingly quiet breakfast, the boy starts to gather his things, and suddenly — you’re a lot more talkative.

“where are you going now?” you hover, watching him dig through his pockets to find his keys.

“jj texted me and his boat won’t start. apparently i’m the only person with common sense who knows how to fix it.” he rolls his eyes before locating the jangly set of keys. “bingo.” he praises himself quietly. you continue staring, a clear expression of disappointment and bewilderment worn on your face. he does a double take as the two of you stand on the pier, slowing his movements. “oh, i’ll be back though. real quick.” he promises, which doesn’t make it any better — especially when he’d said that earlier in the week and then disappeared the entire day. you let pettiness get the better of you.

“oh, i’m sure you will.” you scoff, staring down at the brown sandals on your feet. there’s a silence as he freezes, and you don’t look at him. sarcasm. now that really wasn’t like you.

“is…there something going on here?” he questions cautiously, slowly approaching you where you stand.

“i don’t know pope, is there? is there a reason you just don’t wanna hang out with me lately? am i that much of a bore?” you snap, and his eyes widen. you weren’t even good at having an attitude with him, eyes filling with tears. you know it’s been out of his control, the group needed him and he couldn’t let them down — but that didn’t stop you from feeling second bested.

“okay. where has this come from?” he furrows his brows and you hang your head in shame. he steps closer, placing two hands on your cheeks to get you to look at him. the mixture of his close proximity and the physical affection instantly calms you a little, and you realise that perhaps that’s all you’d been craving.

“i don’t know.” is all you manage and he shakes his head.

“i know i’ve been gone, okay. but… you know how the pogues are. i couldn’t leave them hanging. i’m yours for the rest of the week, i literally swear.” he convinces and you sigh out your nose, nodding.

“i’m sorry.” you admit quietly and he strokes your cheeks thoughtfully.

“is that why you had a little attitude today? you know you can just talk to me. i wouldn’t dismiss you.” he’s being so kind, and you just feel dreadful for being such a nightmare. craving his touch, you place your hands over his.

“can i just… have a hug please? i think i need one.” you communicate shakily and he breathes out a quiet laugh of relief, his brows still knitted.

“of course you can. you really don’t have to ask.” he pulls you in, strong arms squeezing you tight the way you needed, the compression helping you regulate your mismatched emotions the way he knew helped you. “and you can come with me to see jj. don’t just assume i’d neglect you.” he smiles, stepping back before holding out his hand. “coming?”

you take it, and he doesn’t bring it up again.

[moonrisecoeur]

Okay literally love ALL OF YOUR WRITINGS OF LEON. Hes so cute and i think you describe him so very well. I kinda wanna request something of him having a mommy kink yk? Cause like he seems like the type to say mama during it yk? BUT YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT!! I wanna let you have freedom.

awhhh thank you!! i appreciate u !! this is kinda short srry!!

-

vanilla is not boring, especially with leon. it’s easy, gentle, natural. you’re soft with each other, holding onto the other’s body and never letting them go, wet kisses lining each others necks and chests and thighs as you make love.

you haven’t been dating the blonde long enough to indulge in both of your fantasies and kinks, but you could probably make the guess that leon leaned a little bit more submissive. it’s not that he didn’t have it in him to take control, because you know he could, that despite his shy demeanor he was a caretaker and protector at heart. he wanted to care for you and give you everything.

but every time you’d kiss his neck, it’s like his mind would shut off just a little bit. you’d ask him something and he’s never felt so dumb in his life, trying to piece together the sounds coming out of your mouth and make them into words. he’s rarely successful. he ends up unable to give you a proper answer or response and just laughs nervously, which turns into a weak moan when you kiss him again at the same spot.

he’s easy. not a complicated lover in the slightest. figuring him out is not a complex puzzle. he’s vocal, so you always know what he likes and what’s not really doing it for him. which isn’t much, because he likes mostly anything you do with him.

“i want to ask you something,” he says one day, and it piques your interest, so you listen intently, “i have a request… for something we could add into the bedroom.”

“okay, sure, what is it?” you ask. you’ll try to be open minded if it’s something weird, but leon’s shy, so he’s probably going to ask for something simple, like a different position or something.

he takes a deep breath and braces himself, clearly nervous, “i want to call you… mommy. if you would be okay with that.”

silence, for just a moment. his dignity is bruised more and more as you process what he’s saying. he doesn’t mean to take your silence as rejection but that’s what it is without the context of your internal monologue.

you imagine it, for a brief moment, thinking of the things he’d say. yes, mommy, whatever you say. i’m yours. i’m your… good boy, i’m mommy’s good boy. it’s no less than tantalizing to think about.

“uhhh.. hey, could you at least say… something?”

“shit, i’m sorry, it’s just-” you stutter, and he looks at you expectantly.

please, mommy. i’m… really sensitive. please be gentle…

god the image of him begging, not even for anything in particular, is excruciating in the best way possible. it’s painful that he’s not already begging for you.

“i would… i would really like it if you did that. if you called me mommy,” you tell him, and he has half the mind to not believe you considering your weird silence, “i’m sorry, i’ve handled this interaction incredibly wrong, it’s just- i keep thinking about you saying it and it keep making my mind go blank.”

“it… it does?”

“yes,” you groan, coming closer to him, hands on his waist as he naturally wraps his arms around you, “i can’t think when i imagine you saying it, like, in context.”

“can i.. can i say it now?” he asks, and you don’t know why he’s bothering to ask for permission, “please?”

you nod. a moment passes as he gathers himself.

he looks at you with reverent eyes, half-lidded with a pleasure he knows will come but hasn’t hit yet, “mommy,” he whispers, his voice light and fragile, “please, mommy. i need you.”

"need me? yeah? show me, show me how badly you need me, baby," you press your fingers into his skin as you caress him, digging into his pliant muscles, his body contorting to your will, "show mommy how badly you need her, and maybe she'll take pity on you."

—

leon cries out, holding onto you for dear life as you bury his cock even deeper inside of you, it feels like you’re planning to ride him until he passes out, “fuck, fuck, fuck- mommy- please!”

“please what, baby?” you ask, smiling softly, but you sound so condescending. leon doesn’t know what to think, if he can even do so. every time a coherent thought comes to his head, it dissipates into the pleasure encircling him. he feels drunk. he’s close to crying and he’s not sure exactly what he’s begging for.

“can… can i cum, mommy?” he whimpers, his voice low and nervous, like he’s still scared you wouldn’t like this part of him, this side of him he hides behind his tough and composed facade.

"hmm.. do you think you deserve to?"

a double edged sword. there's no good options here, "mommy, please... i'm your good boy, aren't i? please..."

you brush a piece of hair out of his face, running your fingers through his hair, and tugging on the hairs at the base of his neck, “awh, sweetheart, you can’t hold it in? c’mon, try to hold back for mommy, it’ll feel so much better if you wait for it. mommy knows best.”

[fictionalreads]

Hello do you think you could do this one the reader and Mike are married and she knew about Lockwood but Mike didn't believe her because of Rita, reason, and they had an argument he said something that he should never said and she got kidnapped while being months pregnant 😦😦😦😦

A/N: HIIIII!! I'm so sorry this took so long, I was out of town and then had to get back in the rhythm of things once I got back. Writing for Mike (where it's his story and he's not playing the role of narrator for the sake of Armando) was different. I included Rita but I just couldn't make her the reason he didn't believe reader, I just felt like she and the reader wouldn't have beef so that was changed but I tried to stick to the rest of your request. I hope you enjoy this! 🥰 Title from Forget How to Love by Meghan Trainor

I Know Your Words Shouldn't Hurt Me, But They Hurt Me

Fandom: Bad Boys Movie

Pairing: Mike Lowrey x reader

Warnings⚠️: Um... Relationship issues? canon typical violence even though its mostly talked around

You knew when you married Mike Lowrey that he was used to doing things alone, that moving as a unit didn’t come naturally to him. Sure he had Marcus and they were a well oiled machine, but it didn’t start that way and at the end of the day Marcus had a family that was his priority no matter how much he loved Mike.

But Mike was your priority, you’d go through hell for him.

He knew this, but after relying on himself for so long, he didn’t always come to you first. His initial reaction to anything was to internalize and figure out a solution, only coming to you after he failed on his own. You were used to it, but it didn’t make it less hurtful every time he did it.

You on the other hand, preferred talking it out with him. You liked to explain the issue to him, not looking for him to fix it, but rather to vent it out to someone you trusted, someone who would let you think through it all out loud, sometimes offering his own two cents. You usually were able to solve the issue on your own while talking it out, but having him as a sounding board made you feel less alone. Mike was good at listening to what you had to say.

Which is why you were so surprised when he was dismissive about your concerns.

“I’m telling you, something is off with Lockwood,” you insisted.

“The man is one of the best U.S. attorneys I’ve ever worked with. He’s part of the reason AMMO exists and has tried a lot of high profile criminals that nobody else would touch cause they were afraid of the blowback.”

You shrugged, having already thought of this too. “The best criminals hide in plain sight, gain your trust and make sure you’d never think of them.”

“This ain’t Scooby Doo, alright? This is the real world, let’s get back to reality please.” You knew he didn’t mean anything by it, not really, but it felt like a dig.

“You don’t believe me? You think I’m making it all up?” You were defensive, ready to 

“I never said you were making it up, I’m just not convinced. What proof do you have?” He placated.

He had you there. There was no concrete evidence, nothing specific that made you feel like Lockwood was hiding something, but you just knew he was.

“I don’t have any, it’s just a gut feeling. Intuition or whatever you want to call it.”

“Intuition? You want me to investigate a man who will probably be the next mayor of Miami cause you feel something?”

He was being dismissive at best, belittling at worst. It irked you, especially because you knew he had done exactly that for others before. So why not for his wife?

“Would you do it if it was Rita?” It was a bit bitchy to ask, considering Rita had been nothing but kind to you despite being Mike’s ex. You had thought she’d be a point of contention for the two of you when you first started dating and you found out he worked with her all day, but it wasn’t. You weren’t using her now to pick a fight, just to prove a point. You knew if any of the AMMO team had come to him with the same amount of information you had, he’d chase every lead until there was nothing left.

“What?”

His surprise was warranted so you clarified, “would you look into it if Rita came to you and said she felt something off about Lockwood?” 

“Why are you bringing Rita into this?” His evasive answer made the hairs on your neck stand up. Why wouldn’t he answer the question? You were prepared for him to say yes and for you to point out the hypocrisy of his answer, but him refusing to answer? It put you on edge.

“Why are you ignoring the question?”

“I’m not.”

“Then answer the question. Yes or no?”

“Where is this coming from?” Another avoidance.

“Yes or no Mike?”

“Yes! Okay? Yes I would.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” He knew exactly what you were asking and honestly you were almost afraid of what this was leading to, but you couldn’t seem to stop yourself, to diffuse and come back with a calmer head so you pushed some more.

“Why would you do it for her and not me?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Is it because she’s a cop?”

“Y/N,”

“Or because you’ve known her longer?”

“Y/N,”

“Is it because she’s dating him and therefore closer to him?”

“Because I trust her!”

And wasn’t that a slap in the face.

“And you don’t trust me?” You whispered.

“Y/N,”

“What are we even doing if you don’t trust me Mike? What was the point in exchanging vows and being together if you can’t trust me?”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You still said it.” Mike was at a loss for words, staring at you, hoping you’d understand but you couldn’t. The man you loved just told you he didn’t trust you. You had never felt so unmoored in your life. Everything about your relationship had just shifted in your view. “I’m gonna go stay in the guest room for the night,” you managed before turning away from him.

That had been the last time you saw him before he became a wanted man and you were kidnapped by McGrath. What you wouldn’t give to go back to that night and talk it all out instead of allowing hurt feelings to run the conversation. Now you could be killed before you got the chance to fix things.

You had faith in your husband’s abilities but McGrath held you and Marcus at gunpoint, blocking Mike’s view of himself.

“What you don’t know is one of ‘em can’t die.”

What the hell? Since when did one of you become immortal? What the hell was he doing? You missed his and Marcus’ exchange because you were so confused by the first statement, only jolted out of your thinking by the gun going off. Mike had shot Marcus to get him down and then shot McGrath. It was over, and Mike was running to you.

“I trust you, and I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before,” were the first words out of his mouth. He cut your restraints, pulling you into his embrace.

Too high off the adrenaline of the past day, you couldn’t have a real conversation about it with him so you let him know it was okay with a joke. “Bet you’ll never doubt my intuition again.”

He laughed and went to say something when you both heard Judy over the comms saying she’d found Armando. He looked at you in a panic, clearly not wanting to leave you but needing to get to Armando. “Go, I’ll check over Marcus and get us back to the team.” He didn’t waste another second, running to find his son.

It was later when you were escorted to an ambulance that you saw him again, rushing to get to you.

“Everything alright?”

The medic looked at you for permission to speak. “It’s okay he’s my husband.”

The medic nodded, answering his question with, “Its just a precaution sir. We just want to make sure there’s no hidden wounds that are being masked by the adrenaline.”

You were helped onto the back of the ambulance and the medic began her examination, checking your head for wounds and asking if you were hit at any point, blacked out or fell into something hard. You answered in the negative, stating you were pushed around a bit but not hit or thrown into anything. Any falling was the result of trying not to get hit by a bullet or the chopped that crashed. When it seemed she was about done with her examination you spoke up.

“Is it possible to do an ultrasound?”

“Ultrasound?” “Of course.” Mike and the medic spoke at the same time.

You reached out to grab Mike’s hand, tears in your eyes. “Yeah, an ultrasound.” Mike looked dumbfounded and you continued to look at him even as you spoke to the medic, “My OB said I was about nine weeks.”

The medic noted the information and readied the ultrasound. Before long the sound of your baby’s heartbeat filled the air and the fear you’d been holding back burst through you in the form of relief. Uncontrollable sobs wracked your body knowing you had managed to keep your baby safe. Mike held you closely, trying to calm your breathing.

You knew the two of you had some tough conversations in your future but right now all that mattered was that your little family was safe.

[wrathofrats]

Sits down cross legged on the floor

Consider; raindrop fucking, lazy and kinda casual about it while just musing about how badly they both wanna get their hands on the new bug. Phantoms so cute and sweet - Rain knows he'd be such a good boy, wants to prove it but Dew is convinced he's absolutely got a bit of a brat inside of him.

Dew wonders if he's weird like Aether and likes to play with his magic, Omega certainly did...Is it just a quint ghoul thing to be a freak??

Rain asks if his dick would be bigger than Dew's (Dew tries to pretend he's offended as if he doesn't share the same sentiment)

Just slightly provoking each other, a little bit of possessiveness hidden in there somewhere, while they talk absolutely nasty about Phantom...idk!

Is this smthn-

-Void

I’m honored I’ve finally been given raindrop writing privileges I hope I did them justice I know how important those freaks are to you

1.6k of exactly what it says on the tin folks. Warnings for degro, size shaming, mentions of physical punishments like bruises and blood, they’re a bunch of possessive freaks.

Ok have fun

Dew reeks of sweat and smoke.

His forehead is shiny, golden hair sticking to it as he tips his head back to allow Rain to suck on the sensitive skin of his neck. They exchange heat in this position, Rain sat in his lap nestled comfortably on his cock while Dew massages his hips. He gets hotter the longer they sit, no real urgency to either of their movements, Dew would gladly burn if it meant being able to continue touching Rain like he’s a deity who has given him the grace of his skin against his own.

“Haven’t you noticed how he looks at us firefly?”

The words barely register in Dew’s brain as Rain lifts up off of his throat to speak coherently. Rain grinds his hips back lightly, causing Dew to suck in a deep breath. His grip tightens as he finally looks back up at Rain with a confused look.

“Who?”

“Phantom. Have you been listening to me or do I need to get up?” Rain sighs while Dew digs his nails into his hips, mumbling out a couple breathy protests.

“I’m listening I promise I- we’ve just been here for hours Rain cloud”

It had been more like an hour. The passage of time slowing as Rain moves at his own leisure. A casual pace to the roll of his hips even as Dew attempts to move them faster. Rain had already soaked the sheets below them anyways, can’t help himself, but Dew’s eyes cross every time Rain sits back to add another comment about whatever he had decided was the topic of conversation.

“Could get up if you’re not feeling it, thought you enjoyed it when I sit sweetly in your lap. Thought you wanted something pretty to look at”

“I do baby-“

“Then stop complaining”

Dew lets out another breath he didn’t know he was holding. He readjusts them in an attempt to relieve something about their position. At least enough that he can focus on what Rain is saying to him.

“Anyways, Phantom just looks so sweet doesn’t he? Probably would drop to his knees in the common room if we asked him” Rain repeats, a soft hand caressing Dew’s chin to force his gaze. He studies Dew’s eyes for any hint that he’s not fully with him, enamored with the way his pupils dilate. Finally Dew rolls his eyes and bats Rain’s hand away, grumbling about how he’s still there.

“You really think that freak is obedient?”

“More obedient than you are” Rain chides “besides, if he listens when you send him on stupid errands to annoy Swiss, I wonder what else we could make him do.”

Phantoms eyes spark when he sees Dew and Rain. A mischievous glint that has Rain wanting to drag him between them and use him as they please. A finger beckoning him over, pointing at the floor, hell Dew barely had to motion to the stage before Phantom had eagerly dropped to his knees while on tour. Something Dew has not forgotten, or let Rain forget.

“I’ve heard the opposite. Swiss gets chatty when he’s high” Dew snickers. There’s a hint of jealousy to his voice as Rain praises the new summon while seated on his cock. A petulant tone that only makes Rain bite his lip in curiosity.

“Is that so?”

“Said he’s a fucking brat, that he’s got an awful mouth on him” Dew groans as Rain bounces lightly just to hear that tone of his go breathy again.

“Well considering how often I let you get away with it, I’m not concerned”

Rain adjusts again with a wicked look. He loves watching the cocky attitude in Dew melt away as he clenches down on his cock. Dew is adorable when he’s jealous, Rain could work him up for hours if he didn’t think Dew may burn down the abbey about it.

“He’s greedier than you are princess, Swiss could spank the stupid toy raw and he would beg for more”

“Guess I enjoy the challenge. Swiss encourages the bratting though and you of all ghouls should know that”

More than once had Swiss worked Dew up enough to get smoke coming out of his ears. Laughing in his face before sending him back to Rain covered in bruises after taunting the one ghoul who usually couldn’t control himself. Always quiet and docile, but they all knew the work it took to get him there. Swiss dishes his punishments hard, that fucking sadist, purely encouraging a bad habit so he can have his own fun.

"Sometimes Swiss has to subdue him with quintessence just to get him to shut his mouth. Poor thing will apparently just talk and babble until he's fucked stupid"

Oh that idea intrigues Rain more than it should. The idea of Phantom being so loud and disobedient that even Swiss can't handle him sometimes? He licks his lips, quickening his pace bouncing up and down on Dew just thinking about it. His thoughts are awful really, the terrible sadistic part of him wondering if he could get Phantom to submit without having to use magic.

He knows how hard Swiss can go, he's left plenty of cuts and bruises on Rain to make that point clear. But Rain wonders if Phantom will allow him to go harder.

“I think we could take him firefly. Could just tie him up until he wants to be good if the bug gets out of hand.” Rain muses. Dew pants and curses beneath him, trying to grab at Rain to slow him down.

“Fuck baby-“ Dew moans. There’s an internal debate of whether or not to force him to still his hips, loving the way he looks bouncing up and down. His dark hair framing his face as he tilts his head back blissed out on Dew’s cock, small tits bouncing slightly, he looks ethereal like this and if Dew wasn’t about to completely ruin the moment he would've been more than grateful to continue to watch.

There’s a small pause that lingers in the air as Rain finally stills. He leans forward into Dew’s chest against, panting right by his ear.

“Hope he’s a bit nasty for us, hope he makes me fucking claw at his skin until he sobs. Get him real marked up and docile, see a bruised bloody thing at our feet hanging onto our every word” Rain huffs, breathy and a cocky lit to his voice that has Dew whimpering at the idea. One of Rain’s claws drags down the side of Dew’s abdomen for emphasis as he just nods and gasps at the sting.

“Do you think he’s got that awful quint trait of being a fucking freak with his magic? Do you think he uses it to get what he wants?” Dew screws his eyes shut as Rain clenches down on him again. Omega certainly has an awful streak of using his magic to his advantage, they’re sure that’s how aether got to be so bad. Just a taste of power and Dew’s convinced the kid will be hooked. Will play dirty just to get a cock in him.

“I think we can make a sweet boy out of Phantom. Won’t need any magic to get what he wants if he listens”

“And how do you expect to do that?”

Rain smiles almost maliciously at Dew, his sharp teeth almost reflecting the low light in the room. A sweet hand comes to caress the side of his face, a stark contrast to the filth Dew knows Rain is thinking.

“Oh I was hoping you’d be a bit generous droplet, I was thinking I could offer him the opportunity to fuck my cunt if he’s a good boy. Maybe if you’re good too you can watch”

Dew practically growls, “Id just have to fuck you afterwards. He can’t fuck you like I can, would love to see him try though”

“Oh is that so? You don’t think he’s bigger than you are?” Rain reaches below him to grab at Dew’s cock, showing how easily it slips out when he’s not actively grinding down on it

Shame burns in Dew’s gut, his face going bright red seeing how Rain’s fist almost covers him completely. A spurt of pre dribbles down his fist only adding to the embarrassment, not only feeling of seeing Rain actively coo over how small he is, both of them knowing how aroused it makes Dew.

“Shut up” he grits.

“Seen and heard a couple things that tell me otherwise. I think he could fill me up nicely” Rain sits back on Dew’s cock again, tsking in mock disappointment. He reaches down to rub between his folds, biting his lip as he circles lightly on his clit. Dew can see how wet he is, more slick leaking out of him as he touches himself.

“That’s even if I let him near you. Don’t even want him to look at your pretty cunt, should be all mine”

Rain spreads himself at the words, two fingers showing off his pink little clit, completely engorged. Strings of his own arousal connect his fingers as he shows himself off. Dew wants to drool, to beg to get his mouth on him. Needing the salty, heady taste of Rain on his tongue.

“Don’t get jealous on me now. Besides, you’re not in charge Dewdrop” Rain sneers.

Dew whines, Rain’s hand coming to wrap lightly around his throat. A final grasp at power that Rain knows will leave him helpless and quiet for him.

“If you’re so jealous I could just have you both fuck me. Get both of your little cocks in me and see if It even stretches me out. Sure mountain or aether is bigger than you two combined, would be a really sweet sight to watch you two try though.”

[fumifooms]

Your post about falin manifested some Thoughts in me. Seeing how such a big part of her arc was becoming more independent and discovering what She wants to do, mixed with a lot of parts in the manga where she is much more comfortable looking masculine - embarrassed about how blushy she is but not really liking makeup, enjoying more masculine clothes, that one haircut swap where she seemed really happy in laios' cut, it made me realize there's totally some room for even some transmasc falin headcanons! Or at the very least, she's definitely GNC and it would be fun to see that explored in fanfic and fanart... anyway, your in depth analysis posts have really inspired me, got me itching to create some obscure dunmeshi fancontent or analysis now!

Omg…… I’ve never fully thought about it but you’re so right transmasc Falin would go so hard… There’s also how she idolizes Laios a lot… Male older brother role model she puts on a pedestral, could play into her relationship with it. Because of the dragon I like to see her as intersex, including post-canon but beyond that I always saw her as being the more or less agender type that just goes with whatever she feels fits her better, the sort of cis by default for lack of caring about it all that much, not unlike how I consider Laios cis by default but if you dig deep enough there’s otherkin stuff going on in there… Def agree with GNC Falin.

She and Toshiro have some interesting parallels, of being passive and suppressing themselves for the convenience of others, it’s a reason why seeing her being unabashedly entranced by a bug struck him so much— himself being a bug fan and polishing his demeanor to be perfectly respectable. Because of that and including specific details like getting told "boys don’t cry" by Hien- Actually just let me link this excellent post about trans Toshiro. Transfem Toshiro is so compelling and I think pairing it with transmasc Falin would be very interesting… The gender envy of it all, the talks… Need them to go on a trip together post-canon so so bad, life changing self-discovery camping trip

I’ll be munching on this... I love it. Your reblog tags have been a delight, I’m so happy I could inspire you in any way! So looking forward to what you might make in the future

[munson-blurbs]

hi ^^ can you do best friend!eddie teaching virgin!reader how to give head ?? like she’s so curious how it all works and i feel like eddie would be so vocal omg like so instructional while trying to keep his cool lol

I know this trope has been done a lot, so I hope y'all enjoy my take on it 💚

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (m!receiving), fem!Reader, kinda perv!Eddie, mention of weed, Eddie & Reader are both over 18

WC: 1.8k

--

The cafeteria is buzzing with conversation, including the table where you sit amongst the Hellfire boys. Mike and Lucas are arguing over something–you can’t be bothered to pay attention to their constant squabbles anymore–while Dustin is whining about his failing Spanish grade to Gareth and Jeff.

The only ones not talking are you and, surprisingly, Eddie. He’s nibbling on a pretzel, reminding you of one of the bunny rabbits that congregates in your yard. You’re not exactly sure why he’s so quiet, but you take this opportunity to whisper, “Can we go out to your van for a sec?”

His eyebrows pinch together in confusion; if you wanted weed from him, you would wait until after school hours to buy. Well, buy wasn’t the right word, considering Eddie always gave you yours for free.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, sliding his chair back from the table without bothering to push it back in. If one of the meathead jocks happens to trip over it and twist an ankle before their precious game, that’s not his problem.

You wait until you’re outside, away from anyone who could possibly overhear the absurd request you’re about to make, before you start speaking. “So, um, you know how I have that date tonight? With Mark?” you ask, biting your lower lip nervously. You can taste the strawberry gloss that you’d reapplied after finishing lunch.

Eddie’s already digging through the glove compartment for the baggie he keeps stashed away. “You want some for him, too?” His tone is impatient; irritated, even, as he pulls out the blunt he’s already rolled for you. “Because I only brought one.” For you, he adds silently.

“Wha��oh, no; I didn’t need any weed,” you tell him, shaking your head before dropping your gaze to the gravel beneath your feet. “It’s our third date, and I was thinking he might wanna…y’know…do stuff?” You cringe at the phrasing, but press on. “But I…I don’t really know how.”

“Sweetheart, if you’re confessing your virgin status to me, I already know,” Eddie says with a smirk. “I mean, we’ve been friends for a million years. If you did it and didn’t tell me, I’d be pissed.”

You manage a giggle at his candidness. “Nope, still a virgin,” you report miserably. “And last time, he asked me to give him head, but I told him I had to get home. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t wanna do it wrong.”

Eddie shrugs. “Just don’t use teeth,” he replies casually. “Other than that, there isn’t much you can do wrong.” He starts back towards the school, pausing when he realizes that you’re not by his side. “Look, I don’t have any other tips. I’ve only ever been on the, uh, receiving end of dick sucking.”

“Yeah, well,” you mumble, shoving your hands in your pockets and brushing the toe of your sneaker against the ground, “that’s kinda what I wanted to ask you. I was thinking that maybe I could…practice on you?”

Eddie’s eyes practically pop out of his head. “You…you wanna do what?”

“Forget it. It’s stupid, I’m sorry. Can we never talk about this again?” Tears well up in your eyes, and you try to blink them away before he can notice. What were you thinking? Asking your best friend if you could give him a blowjob?

“Hey, no, I just wanted to make sure that’s what you meant.” He smiles, letting his hand graze yours. “Do you mind…in my van?”

You nod, returning his smile with your own shy one. “Um, yeah. I mean, no, I don’t mind. I can give you head in your van.” 

Eddie swallows a lump in his throat, opening the back door and helping you inside. He lays down on the shag carpet–the one you always tease him about–and pats his thigh. “C’mon over.” He watches as you timidly straddle his waist, trying not to sit down on his lap. “You’re not gonna crush me, y’know,” he jokes lightly. “And even if you did, s’not like I’d be mad about it.”

You hesitate but ultimately let yourself rest on him; immediately, his cock starts to stiffen, and you pull back. “Shit, I-”

“S’okay,” Eddie says, tilting his head. He’s not about to let you know that this isn’t the first time you’ve gotten him hard; just the first time you know about. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Fingers fumbling with his belt, you pull on the strip of leather until the shiny metal clasp unhooks from its notch. He undoes the silver button on his pants but lets you tug his zipper down until you get a glimpse of his blue-and-white checked boxers. “Can I take these off?” you ask.

“Y-Yeah, ‘course,” he stutters, sitting back on his elbows to give you more leverage. You have to keep yourself from gawking at his hardened length as it rests against his Iron Maiden shirt, tip leaking a pearly bead of pre-cum. He mistakes your awe for nerves, and he quickly adds, “if you changed your mind, I’m not gonna be mad or anything–”

“No,” you shake your head. “I just d-don’t know where to start.”

Relief visibly floods his body. “I like being teased a little. Like, kissing it or licking it–holy fucking shit.” His train of thought is abruptly cut off when your tongue flattens against the base of his shaft, dragging upwards until you reach the head. His lithe fingers grab onto the collar of your cotton t-shirt, twisting the fabric around them just to steady himself. 

“Like that?” you ask, giving him eyes that are far too innocent for someone who just coated his dick with her saliva. 

“J-Jus’ like that,” Eddie nods, gripping your shirt tighter as your lips brush against his length with tiny, measured pecks. “And then you’ll wanna–fuck–wanna focus on the tip. Wrap your lips around it, there you go.” His toes curl as you lower your mouth, licking at the saltiness. “Make, like, circles w-with your tongue.” 

You do as he says, feeling him twitch against your parted lips. A wanton moan escapes him, and it’s music to your ears. A sign that you’re doing something right. 

“When you’re ready—Jesus H. Christ, your mouth feels s’fucking good—hollow out your cheeks and kinda…glide down? I dunno, all the blood is rushing to my dick right now.”

You blanche as you reposition yourself, glancing at his girth. “Eddie, I…I don’t think I can fit all of you in my mouth.”

His fingernails could tear through your shirt with the grip he has. “Shit, y-you can’t say that. Actually, you can. Tell me how fuckin’ big I am, baby.”

Baby. You try not to let this new pet name distract you as you say, “you’re huge, Eddie. I won’t be able to take it.”

“Yeah? Gonna choke on my cock?” Eddie growls, momentarily forgetting his role as oral sex tutor. “S-Sorry. Um, if you can’t, you can use your hand to help you out.”

“Okay,” you nod, crouching back down. One hand rests on his thigh while the other wraps around the base of his dick. He hisses at your touch, and you smile despite the butterflies in your stomach. 

“M-Might help if you spit on it. My, um, my dick.”

The trail of saliva drips down until it reaches his wiry patch of pubic hair. You swirl your tongue around his tip a few more times for good measure before opening your mouth a bit wider and bringing your head down. 

“Thassit, keep doin’ that. Don’t worry about getting it all; jus’ do what you can.” His knees tremble as you move a bit faster. “You can do the t-tongue thing when you come back up. I really like that, fuck.” 

You want to ask about the pace: is it too fast? Too slow? But when you lift your gaze to meet his—your lips still on his length—he lets out a whimper. A fucking whimper. 

“Yes, look at me, baby. Look at me while you blow me,” he pants. “Wanna see your cute little mouth stuffed full of my cock.” And if that wasn’t enough, what he says next could stop a bullet in mid-air: “You’re better than I ever imagined.”

That’s enough to warrant you to ask a follow-up question, and Eddie could cry when you pull away. “You imagined this?”

“Mhm,” he squeaks out. “Wanted you f’so long. Please just keep going. Please don’t stop.”

So you don’t. You find your rhythm, using his groans and twitches to find what he really likes. It’s messy and different but so fucking right. 

“Hnng, baby, ‘m gonna cum. You might wanna—”

But you shake your head gently, not wanting to break the momentum you’ve built. You lock eyes with him, silently telling him that it’s okay.

“Fuck, you’re perfect. You can spit it out if you don't wanna swallow, pretty girl. B-but ‘m about to c-cum—fucking shit!” You take as much of him as you can until you start to gag, and you feel his hot release hit the back of your throat. It’s a lot; much more than you’d anticipated, but you swallow it all. 

Eddie stares at you incredulously, momentarily speechless. “Did you just…?”

“Was I not supposed to?” The intimacy of it only dawns on you now. He’s just teaching you, and now you’re going on a date with someone after swallowing his cum. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

He barks out a laugh. “Do not apologize for that. Just wasn’t expecting it.” He sits all the way up, adjusting his softening dick and re-fastening his pants. “So…that’s how you give a blowjob. Any questions?”

There’s an awkward silence as you contemplate, ultimately deciding to ask. I mean, you’d just performed oral sex on him; he could answer a measly personal question. 

“When you said you wanted me for so long…did you mean that? Or were you just saying it?”

Eddie’s gaze is suddenly glued to the van floor. “Look, you’re with Mark now. I can’t…”

“Did. You. Mean. It?” You cross your arms over your chest, waiting for his response. 

He relents after a moment. “Yes, I meant it. I’ve had this big, stupid crush on you, but I kept making excuses not to ask you out, and then you got with Mark—”

You cut his rant short with a clumsy kiss, noses hitting each other as you press your lips to his. You stumble a bit and he catches you, bringing his hands to your hips. “I have a big, stupid crush on you, too,” you admit, “but I figured you would’ve asked me out if you felt the same way.”

This time, Eddie kisses you, soft and sweet. “I can taste myself on your lips,” he murmurs into you. One finger grazes your pants button. “Do me a favor?”

“Yes, I’ll cancel with Mark,” you say, teasing but truthful. 

“I mean, you fuckin’ better,” he laughs, but he shakes his head. “Nah, I need you to lie down f’me.”

Your brow creases. “Why?”

“A gentleman always returns the favor.”

--

[bokettochild]

Hey, Uncle Anon again--Okay but say this happens after Yuga attacks...the image of his uncle seeing that hey, someone is home, and meeting Ravio.

Does Ravio have his hood up? Is there any recognition there? Does Ravio know his Lorule counterpart, has he heard the story from Legend? It could go So Many Ways. Ranging from 'awkward' to 'sorry-not-sorry, Mr. Hero, but it was instinct to hit him with the nearest chair'.

Okay, this ask actually inspired me a bit, and this is only part of a bigger project, but have it anyways!

  The cottage hadn’t changed a bit. Standing on the path, apple trees shivering in a slight breeze, he’d almost felt a decade younger, almost tricked himself into thinking he’d need only open the old wood door, the door whose key still sat heavy in his pocket, and a bright little face would whip around to meet him, gap-toothed grin his welcome home as feet would pit-patter across the worn out floors. Maybe it was that image that tricked his feet into walking, following a path altered only by shade of trees grown taller in his absence, their fruit hanging heavy but not yet ready to be plucked.     It’d be cider making season soon, he’d mused to himself, hand digging through his pocket for a key he couldn’t name why he still carried. Absently, he wondered if the old press was still down in the basement, if Link- because it must be Link- had minded to keep it oiled and tended, or if he’d left off using it. After all, the former knight chuckled, the boy couldn’t even turn the handle fully on his own, now could he?    His mind had been so caught in his thoughts he hadn’t been minding his surroundings, pushing the door open after a moment’s struggle (the key stuck more than it once used to) and moving to enter his old home. He hadn’t expected to be immediately whacked over the head, nor, when he’d picked himself up again, to find himself face to… face(?) with a masked figure.    “We aren’t open!” The purple clad individual had declared, mallet in hand, and a small creature with wings- which could in no ways be considered a bird- fluttering about at his shoulders, squawking and hissing something terrible. “And if you thought you could break in, you’re dead wrong!”    Aflon had blinked, slowly, and then started, gaze flying about the house briefly.    It wasn’t changed, not really. Pictures were all taken down and boxes were tucked against the walls, but the couch, the rocking chair, the china cabinet, it was all still there, still in the same places, now with new stains and scuffs, but he could recognize them all the same. Really, the only major difference was the desk near the door scattered over with glittering items and objects, little price tags set before them in poor mimicry of a shop.    He wasn’t sure if the purple clad figure was meant to be here or not, but given that the house still technically belonged to him, he’d been more than slightly caught off guard.    “I’m not here for a shop, I- who are you?”    “Who are you?” The apparent merchant had demanded in answer, face shielded behind a hood that looked like it was meant to resemble a very, very odd face. “And why are you here?” Their voice was trembling slightly, but they stood firm despite.    “I live- or, well…” he’d paused, picking himself up and dusting himself off, “I used to live here. This was my house- still is actually, I’ve just been away.”    Despite not being able to see the merchant’s eyes, he could feel the apprehension in their gaze, weighty as it was as they looked up at him, one hand on their hip and the other holding fast to their oversized mallet. “You must have the wrong house, this one belongs to Mister Hero.”    Oh.    “You mean Link?”    “You know him?” Their head cocked on one side, hood following with a flap of long ear-like attachments.    Aflon had nodded briefly. “Do you?”    “Of course!” And suddenly the mallet was gone, the figure gesturing about with a cheery chirp now entering their tone. “He’s my housemate! Lets me stay here, keep up the shop while he’s gone and all that lovely sort of thing. Didn’t realize he had a landlord himself though! So terribly sorry if he’s been stiffing you on rent, he’s been out of town for forever now, you see.”    He’d nodded. He hadn’t known what better to do.    The stranger had introduced themselves as Ravio, offered to show him their wares, but when asked about Link had firmly insisted that he knew nothing more than that the hero was off on some mission for the crown or something and that he was just keeping the house in order for him. 

[vodika-vibes]

I feel you with being sick lately, I’ve been sick all week plus I got the ol’ red tide happening so I’m not having a good time T-T. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the A-17 & Fordo combo, so if you want and have time and feel able could you please do another Alpha-17xReaderxFordo fic where the boys comfort and care for a busy reader who won’t stop to take care of herself? Thanks for your time and i hope you’re feeling better and having fun!

Take A Break

Summary: As a post war Senator, you've been working hard to make sure that the clones remain safe...perhaps too hard.

Pairing: Alpha-17 x Reader x ARC Captain Fordo

Word Count: 719

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I am feeling a lot better, thank you for asking, I'm just tired, so my brain doesn't want to make words work today, lol. I also do have your other request! Thank you for your requests, and your patience.

You’re exhausted. Down to your bones.

You feel as though you’ve been going non-stop for years now. And at this point maybe you have been. And now that the war is over, you should be able to rest and relax more, not less.

But for every person who supports your Clone Rights Bill is another person who opposes it, which means that you’re working just as hard now as you were when the war was at its height.

You haven’t even managed to go home in the last three days. Though, at least, you’re not alone. None of the other Senators who are working on this bill have been able to leave either.

You caught Bail staring at a blank wall earlier today with a cup of caf in each hand and a straw in each cup, allowing him to drink both at the same time. Personally, you think it’s brilliant, but the look on Commander Thorn’s face when he gently escorted Bail back to his office makes you think that maybe you’re too exhausted to really judge that.

You thread your fingers through your hair, and you stare at the datapad laying on the table in front of you. You’ve been reading the same argument for the last hour, and you haven’t managed to retain a single word of it.

You drop your hands from your hair and press the palms of your hands over your eyes. They’re burning from exhaustion and strain, and you really should dig your glasses out of your desk to help with at least some of that, but that sounds like work and you’re so tired of work-

For a moment, just a moment, you consider taking a break. And then your datapad dings as a new message crosses the screen.

It’s from Padme. The subject line simply reads, “!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

You open the message and it’s a message forwarded from Senator Burtoni. The basic idea being that she’s claiming that the Clones are Kaminoan property and so they should be returned to Kamino for repurposing and decommissioning.

And that sends a shot of awareness through your exhausted mind, and you start typing rapidly. And you note, absently, that you’re not the only one.

About an hour later, you notice that Bail is no longer online. And then neither is Padme.

And then your office door slides open and you blink, blearily, at the two men that enter your office. Alpha looks unimpressed, and Fordo doesn’t look much happier, actually.

Alpha folds his arms over his chest, “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since you’ve been home?”

That’s a silly question, of course you do. It’s been…uh…

You blink at him, and decide that it’s a dumb question and ignore it, “This is important.” You finally say, “Senator Burtoni wants to decommission-”

“That’s normal. Senator Burtoni has always wanted to decommission us.” Alpha says with a roll of his eyes, “Have you slept at all in the last three days?”

“Uh…I closed my eyes for an hour yesterday while listening to a speech?” You offer as an answer, and then you squeak when Fordo crosses the room and gently pulls you from your seat, only to pull you into his arms.

You slump into his embrace, the exhaustion becoming almost overwhelming now that you’re not actively staring at your work.

“Have you eaten, cyare?” Fordo asks, his voice soft.

You nod mutely, because you have. The Senate Droids have been bringing you meals, which is part of the reason that the senate has droids, honestly. 

“You just haven’t been home…or sleeping.” Alpha says, and you can feel his fingers against the back of your neck, rubbing soothing circles there. 

“...’m sorry.”

“Shh. We’re not mad. We’re worried.” Fordo lightly squeezes your hips, “This isn’t healthy, cyare.”

“You need to take a break.” Alpha interjects, “It’s time to go home. You can take a bath and curl up in bed and sleep until you’re not tired anymore.”

“And maybe we’ll cuddle with you.” Fordo adds with a small smile.

You sigh softly, and rest your head against his chest, “What did I do to deserve you both?”

Alpha chuckles and presses a light kiss to your shoulder, while Fordo drops a light kiss to your forehead. “Come on, cyare. Time to go home.”

[readerxlol]

A Misunderstanding - Lo’ak x reader

Summary: the reader misinterprets an interaction between her sister and her crush, Lo’ak after telling her about her new found feelings

Warnings: angst with fluff at the end

Please do not judge this is my first ever post of a fan fiction. I hope you enjoy :)

Readers pov: 

Giggling, Tsireya teases me about the words that had just left my mouth. “You find Lo’ak attractive?” “Yeah but I don’t like him… that’s so weird… I don't like him.” I fumble, trying to justify the situation I had just put myself in, realising my older sister has gotten me in an awkward position. “Oh please! Don’t think I didn’t see you blushing when you two had your first interaction. ‘Hey’ he said and you were all like ‘oh new boy choose me. Love me.’” She mocked with breaks for laughter in between. “That’s disgusting I never said that. I said hey back. They were new and he was being nice.” “Yeah but you were thinking it.” She whispered with a smirk on her face. 

Thinking back to when the Sully family first introduced themselves, I remember riding my Ilu over to the newcomers shortly after the arrival of the Ikrans. As I stepped out of the water I sensed eyes on me. Looking up I locked eyes with one of the Toruk Makto’s sons. I recall my first thoughts being ‘he looks my age’ and ‘he’s quite cute’. 

“Don't think that when Aonung was inspecting the forest people. You weren’t specifically analysing the features of the second son.” She was obviously hinting at Lo’ak. As i thought her verbal torture was over, she continued. I’ve come to learn that when she goes off on a tangent, it’s best to let her rather than stop her; resulting in digging yourself into a deeper hole. So I sit and wait for my misery to end. “In fact you were not only intrigued about the forest peoples’ looks. You were checking Lo’ak out. I saw the eyes you were giving him.” That’s it. I pounced at her as I started a war. War…more like a play fight, but considering her recent accusations it might as well be.

After a good few minutes it ended with me being tickled by Tsireya. “Pl…please…s..stop’” I just about get out through laughs. She smiled evilly at me as if she had a plan. “I will do when you admit your crush on Lo’ak.” Damn I can’t get out of this now. Normally I kick her and escape before ever saying my truth but I had grown tired from the laughter that had been released. There’s no going back now. I have to go through with it and accept inevitable teasing from my older sister who has had more experience with boys than me. I’ve never felt anything like this before, but I know from when Aonung had his first crush, Tsireya teased him for his feelings and I knew she would do the same to me. 

However there was no other way so I just had to put up with giving in. “Ok, ok fine. I like Lo’ak.” I whispered due to lack of breath, knowing she would hear me. Thankfully she did and stopped the tickling but unfortunately, she maintained her grip on me. “I’m sorry what was that? I didn’t quite hear you.” She pushed forcing me to say it again. Grumpily I repeated “I like Lo’ak ok. Now will you please get off me!” Tsireya smiled down at me as she released me. She began to laugh and soon after I joined in, finding amusement into the past few minutes. After recovering she thought it about be a good idea to see much I liked him. Whatever that means. She began to quiz me as the mood changed, from a chaotic, buzzing atmosphere to a calm, trusting one. “When did you first realise you liked him?” “When i was teaching him all day how to breathe correctly and at the end he was able to collect the shell. He was willing to learn, you know. And his efforts had payed off. He was so happy with himself.” Smiling to myself I look down reminiscing the memory. “Aw look at you grinning. You really like him don't you.” Early I wouldn’t have answered but after spilling my heart out I might as well. “Yeah I do.” “Little sis has gotten herself a first crush and now she’s in love.” She lightly teased, poking my arm as I gave her a glare.

────︒✿ཾ∘∗✽ᜒࠬ. ────

Tsireya pov:

After getting Y/n to admit her infatuation for Lo’ak I made it my mission to find out if said feelings were reciprocated. As the evening began, I went out on a search to find Lo’ak. Fortunately not too far from where I was standing I spotted the boy. He was sitting on the sand fiddling with something in his hands. Walking over I notice the said object he was holding was the shell Y/n gave him to collect. 

He kept it. It must of meant something to him for him to keep it. This made me come to the conclusion that what I was about to ask, would have the result I hoped for. 

“Hey, can I join you?” “Sure.” “What’s that in your hand?” I questioned as I sat down. Obviously I knew what it was I just wanted to figure out why he still had it. “It’s a shell Y/n gave me to collect when she was teaching me to hold my breath.” “Why’d you keep it?” Now I’m getting to the good bit. I prayed to Eywa that he’s kept to for a certain reason. “I don't know?” Ugh. This boy. I will get it out of him one way or another. “I can tell you do know. You’re just not willing to admit it to me. Does it have something to do with my sister Y/n, Lo’ak?” This should do it. I’ve got him now, just like I had Y/n earlier. A light blush appeared on his cheeks as he looked down in embarrassment. To be honest I’ve always known ever since he first arrived. Since day one that boy has had eyes on Y/n. From the look he gave her as she got out the water. To his increasing heart rate when she tried to help him slow it down by putting pressure on his torso. All things Y/n might not have noticed the intention. However, I did and can tell that that boy fell at first sight. Now I just need to get him to confess. “It does have something to do with her doesn’t it?” I glanced at him with a knowing look. I continued though, “I’ve seen how you look at her. That not how someone who wants a friendship looks at someone else. You like her don’t you?” Please Eywa. Please see what I have seen. 

After what felt like an eternity he finally speaks up. 

“Yeah I do.” 

Thank you Eywa. Thank you, thank you. Lo’ak looked up at me bashfully. I let out a laugh. I couldn’t hold it in this whole situation was too funny. “What?” Lo’ak asked worriedly thinking he did something wrong. 

Damn this boy is a nervous wreck. “Calm down lover boy.” I teased. Playfully, he hit me and then regained his embarrassment. “I’d say love at first sight.” I continued to push his buttons as he slams his hand over my mouth to shut me up. “You’re not funny. I wish I hadn’t said anything now.” “I’m sorry I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that I just find love very cute.”

Y/n pov: 

I was a beautiful evening the waves were calm and there was little to no breeze. I had decided to go on a walk to clear my head. I hadn’t gone far from my family’s pod until a pair caught my eye. Curiously I wandered quietly over to see who the pair were. 

Tsireya and Lo’ak. 

Confused I tried to get closer to hear what they were saying but to my dismay I couldn’t without being spotted so I had to rely on body language. As I watched intently, I had gotten as far as understanding that they were talking about something which annoyingly, I still couldn’t hear. I carried on watching and within moments, even with the dark, I noticed a blush appear on Lo’ak’s face and saw him try and hide it from embarrassment. Glumly, I continued to watch. Tsireya laughs as Lo’ak playfully slaps her. I might not hear what was being said but I could clearly tell he preferred her over me so there was no point of ever telling him how I feel. A tear rolled down my face from pain that I didn’t know had built up. Humiliated I got up and fled. 

How could she do this to me. Flirting with the guy I only a few hours ago I confessed my love for to her, and now shes off with him at night laughing and joking around. I ran and didn’t look back. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I wanted to erase my memory of what I had just witnessed. Running as quick as possible I began to struggle as tears cloud my eyes and threaten to pour out. I hadn’t noticed the rock in the path as i tripped and fell. It didn’t hurt too bad badly but with everything that had just unfolded I began to sob. Fortunately, no one saw me as I got back up and sprinted back to my Marui pod and into my room, I wanted to scream and shout and cry as loud as possible but I knew I couldn’t. I paced around my room trying to contain my sorrows. Mixed with anger and sadness I processed what I had seen. They seemed happy, why should I get between that?

But I told her though she knew how I felt and in plain view she clearly flirted with him. 

Tired I crumbled onto my bed feeling worthless. Why would anyone like me? They could have my amazing sister. Always second. Second to mother. Second to father. Second to Anuong. Second, second, second and now it seems like I’m second to Lo’ak. I turned over so my back faced to anyone who enters. Tears re-entered my eyes and rolled slowly down my cheek as I fell into a dreamless sleep.

────︒✿ཾ∘∗✽ᜒࠬ. ────

A calm breeze woke me up. Tears dried to my face I tried to scrub off with my hand as I walked over to the main part of the pod. To my dismay only the person who I didn’t want to see was there.

Tsireya.

“Hey little sis” she exclaims cheerfully. Noticing my unhappy mood she questions it. “Hey what’s up with you?” I don’t really feel like talking to her so I brush her off with a “Nothing.” Unfortunately she doesn’t look convinced. “No seriously what’s up with you?” She asks calmly. However I’m not into the mood and her being so oblivious to a reason why, only fuels my anger more. I can’t deal with it I might as well let it out than let it destroy me. “YOU! THAT’S WHAT’S UP!” Confused at this burst she tries to calm me down but it does work. “Hey, hey, hey. Calm down, what do you mean me?” 

“YOU LYING. BACKSTABBING.SNAKE.” I yelled pushing her at each word.

 “I SAW YOU YESTERDAY LAUGHING AND PLAYING AROUND WITH LO’AK. AND NOT ONLY THAT WHEN YOU WERE TALKING THE BLUSH THAT WAS ON HIS FACE WHEN YOU SPOKE TO HIM. YOU MAKE HIM FLUSTERED, AND HOW COULD I BE SO STUPID TO NOT REALISE THAT HE LIKED YOU THIS WHOLE TIME. I HATE YOU. THE ONE THING I THOUGHT I HAD, GONE BECAUSE OF YOU!” tears streamed down my face that I hadn’t realised had until I stopped yelling. Though I had just been yelling at her, Tsireya looked calm and composed. “WHAT?” I partially hiss at her. “I’m sorry.” She exclaimed. I knew it, I had been proven right. Tears continued to spill over the edge as i faced the truth. “Please stop crying and let me explain.” That did it, she wanted to explain Lo’ak’s feelings for her. No thank you. “NO WHY WOULD I HUH? 

“BECAUSE HE LIKES YOU, Y/N. NOT ME.”

I stopped in my tracked to register what she had just said, my tears had finally slowed when hearing her words. “He likes you, Y/n. Not me you.” The words finally formed in my brain as guilt set in due to my resent outburst. “Tsireya… I am so sorry for yelling at me and…” Despite my apology not being finished, Tsireya pulled me in to a hug in which I gladly accepted. “No I’m sorry Y/n. Now thinking back, it would look suspicious for me to say something and form him to become a blushing mess. I’m so sorry I made it look like that.” “No don't apologise. You didn’t even know I was there so how could not how to act.” “Please let me explain…” pulling away from our hug.

As I listen to her story. I realise how wrong I was for believing he liked her not me. “He was holding your shell the whole time.” Now it was my turn to become a blushing mess. “He blushed because I brought up you and asked him whether he had a crush on you. And he admitted it.” I looked up at her smiled widely. “Go find him, girl.” With that I ran. I ran as fast as I could to find him. I needed to find him. I had to find him. As I spotted him, he took looked around frantically for someone as well. I ran towards him down the winding path I noticed his eyes light up when he spotted me as well. We both ran toward one another and nearly crashed into each other. Only stopping by hold onto each other. My hand on his chest and his on my waist. “Hey.” “Hey.” We awkwardly spoke to each other. Don’t mess this up now. “I have something to tell you-” We both spoke together. “You go first.” I told him, feeling that if I could wait then I could wait now. “But ladies should go first-” “Lo’ak just say what you were going to say.” He took a moment to gain composure before beginning. “Ever since I set eyes on you I have been infatuated by you not just your beauty but you kind heart and your determination to help people. I can’t stop thinking about you. Night and day my mind thinks of only you.” Without realising I get emotional at his confession. Only do I realise when he wipes under my eyes with the back of his finger. “Please don’t cry.” I laugh and once he knows I’m okay he continues on “I have never met anyone like you in my life before. You are blessing. I love you.” 

The last words come as I shock as my breath hitches in the back of my throat. 

“Say that again.” “Y/n, I love you.” “Say it again a thousand times.” I laugh as he grabs me by the waist and pulls me against his body. “I’ll say it until I get sick of saying it, if that’s what it takes for you to comprehend my love for you.” He closes the gap between us as he leans down and kisses my lips. Butterflies soar in my stomach as our lips move in-sync with each other. After a short time I break the kiss “I love you Lo’ak.” I say, his lips turning into the sweetest smile I've ever seen. “I love you Y/n.” He says again as he goes in for another kiss.

[samwpmarleau]

fic: sliding doors

whumptober day 15: childhood trauma masterlist: tumblr, ao3 It could have gone like this.

It’s comically easy to run away from the Olsens. Climb out the window, dig her sneakers into the seams between the bricks to shimmy down the wall, only almost fall twelve times, freedom. Eleven-year-old Mary Sue Poots has done this before. Not from the Olsens, they’re fairly new, but others. This family is fine. Not the worst she’s had. They’re predictable in their anger, they telegraph it to Mary Sue’s well-trained eyes.

Usually, anyway. Her wrists twinge with the results of Mrs. Olsen’s iron grip that Mary Sue had been slow to anticipate.

It’s less than a mile to the nearest subway station, and a pleasant day outside to boot, only mildly humid in comparison to the soup that the rest of summer has been. She swipes her metro card and slips onto the next train, destination: Queens.

While she’s been to the Hall of Science before, it was only for a few minutes. The Rykersons’ three-year-old had gotten fussy, making enough of a scene that his parents shuffled them all off to the park instead. That was six months ago, and Mary Sue has been wanting to finish the visit ever since. She stares up at the curved building, finesses her way through the entrance (“Oh, my mom and dad are just outside, ma’am, see? Those two there. They’ve got my little sister to get situated and told me to just go on ahead. I’m really excited, I’ve enrolled in the science fair at school and everything!”), and begins to absorb everything it has to offer.

Four exhibits in, Mary Sue’s attention is caught by a boy around her age animatedly talking to what she assumes are his parents. He takes after his father in appearance, she observes, all lanky and curly-haired, but he shares the laugh of his heavily pregnant mother, who has folded up one of the museum maps to use as a fan.

They look happy. They look like the sort of family Mary Sue’s always wished she had.

It’s not fair.

Even more unfair is how she’s too distracted to notice the Watch Your Step sign near her feet and promptly face-plants, hard.

Mary Sue considers lying where she is, forever. If she doesn’t look up from the carpet, she won’t be able to see what she knows is everyone making fun of her.

“Hey, you okay?”

Mary Sue sighs. Lying here will not, apparently, work out. Not that her plans ever do. If they did, she’d have found a home by now.

With a grunt, she moves into a sitting position and regards the speaker. It’s the boy that had captured her attention in the first place, his big brown eyes earnest. “I’m fine, thanks.”

The boy lets out a little gasp. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?” Mary Sue glances down at her hands, which, indeed, are scraped raw and welling with drops of blood.

“Mom!” the boy calls over his shoulder.

“No, don’t,” she pleads. The last thing she needs is more attention.

Too late.

“What’s your name, mija?” the boy’s mother asks as his father gently helps her to her feet.

“Mary Sue.”

“Are your parents nearby, Mary Sue?”

“Yeah, they’re … around. Back at the bubble part, I think.” The woman’s eyes are as big and brown as her son’s, and very kind. They make Mary Sue almost not want to lie.

“Berto,” the woman says to her husband, “see if you can find them. Take Robbie with you.”

He complies with an encouraging smile in Mary Sue’s direction and ushers along his son into the previous exhibit. Robbie gives her a little wave as he leaves. Mary Sue responds with half of one.

“I’m Juliana,” says the boy’s mother. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up a little?”

Mary Sue lets herself be all but manhandled to the nearest restroom. For being as far along as she is, Juliana is surprisingly agile. “I can take care of it myself,” Mary Sue says, trying not to sound rude.

Juliana assesses her as she wets a paper towel. “I’m sure you can. Hands, please.”

Grumpily, Mary Sue holds out her hands and lets Juliana daub away the blood and grit. She sucks in a sharp breath as Juliana inadvertently presses on a particularly tender part. “Ow.”

“I’m sorry. Almost done.”

From her purse, Juliana pulls out two band-aids and secures them over the scrapes. A quiet groan escapes her lips as she straightens, her hand pressing into her lower back. Mary Sue comments, “You look like you’re gonna pop.”

“Wish he’d hurry up,” Juliana laughs. “Still a couple more weeks yet.”

“What’s his name?”

“Gabriel.”

“Like the archangel? He was a messenger.” I am Gabriel, recites Sister Maggie’s voice in her head, that stand in the presence of God, and am sent to speak unto thee.

“Yes, that, but it was my father’s name. He passed not long ago.”

“Oh.”

“Many your age wouldn’t know who Gabriel is,” Juliana says. “Sunday school?”

“More like every day school.” Juliana tilts her head in question, and Mary Sue reluctantly elaborates, “I’m from St. Agnes’s. It’s an orphanage.”

Juliana’s face morphs into one Mary Sue is all too familiar with: pity. “So when you say your parents …?”

“Met ’em a couple weeks ago.”

Mary Sue reaches up to fix her mussed hair, which proves to be a mistake. As her sleeves fall down past her forearms, Juliana sucks in a breath. The bruises. Crap.

“Fight at school,” Mary Sue says by rote. She’s got this routine down to a science.

Voice carefully measured, Juliana asks, “Get into a lot of fights, do you? Some of those look old.”

“I can be a brat. People don’t usually like that.”

“A brat?”

“Thanks for the band-aids,” Mary Sue sidesteps quickly. “I’ve gotta go.”

“To your parents?”

“Yeah.”

“All right, let’s go see if Alberto’s tracked them down yet. Maybe we can all get some lunch together.”

Mary Sue knows that tone. The fakeness of it. Juliana has no interest in making nice, and Mary Sue would get the blowback. No thanks.

“I think we have plans already. Mom mentioned something. I’ll find them, you guys don’t have to wait around.”

“Oh. Okay, well …” Juliana reaches again into her purse and scrounges up a pen and a crumpled receipt. She jots down her name and a pager number. “Here. In case you want to meet us later. We saw a Korean barbecue place not too far from here that looked good.”

Mary Sue obediently, impatiently, pockets the receipt.

Unfazed, Juliana’s eyes search Mary Sue’s. She implores, “We’ll be in the city for another week.”

———

Mary Sue doesn’t plan on using the number or Juliana’s hospitality. The woman probably hadn’t meant it. But later that night as she lies in bed listening to the Olsens discuss what to do with her ungrateful self, she fiddles with the edges of the band-aids. Juliana and her family would have finished their barbecue long ago. Mary Sue’s stomach growls at the thought. The Olsens had skipped her dinner.

“— send her back.”

“Garth, no, of course not. We need her.”

“If this is a habit, though … Cheryl, neither of us have the patience for all that.”

“Let’s sleep on it. No reason to rush to a decision.”

Mary Sue grits her teeth at the conversation. Maybe Garth and Cheryl wouldn’t call up St. Agnes’s immediately, maybe they would even wait a week or two. But it always ends up the same: Mary Sue on the steps of the orphanage, her worldly possessions tucked tight into a backpack.

Glad that at least the Olsens had thought their volatile reaction would dissuade her from doing anything rash, she once more pries up the window, shimmies down the wall, and leaves the cul-de-sac. She comes to a stop outside the corner bodega; or, more accurately, the bodega’s payphone. Carefully, for she doesn’t have a whole lot of extra change, she punches in the numbers Juliana had written down. At the prompt, she inputs the number of the payphone, and waits.

It takes only seconds for the phone to ring, as though Juliana had been waiting for it. And she had, as Mary Sue is greeted not with a confused hello but, “Mary Sue?”

“I lied to you, Mrs. Reyes,” Mary Sue says.

“What did you lie about?”

Mary Sue shuts her eyes. The idea of confessing to someone, to someone she barely knows no less, makes her heart race. But what is the alternative? She will never get such an opportunity again, of that she is sure.

“What you saw earlier … I mean, my parents, they … um …”

“Tell me where you are.”

She does, and fifteen minutes later a solemn-faced Alberto ushers her into a cab. From Juliana’s endless purse she gets a travel pack of tissues to dry her tears.

The rest happens in a blur. Mary Sue doesn’t quite understand how it’s accomplished, only that before she knows it, she and the Reyeses are sitting in Sister Maggie’s office and Juliana asks, “Would you like to come with us, mija?”

Mary Sue agrees before the question is even finished, much to Sister Maggie’s bewilderment. One long plane ride later, she walks up the steps of a modest but well-kept home in east Los Angeles.

Which is exactly what it is, she realizes: a home. At last, she has a home.

———

It doesn’t happen like that, of course. Mr. Olsen yells, Mrs. Olsen’s backhand cuts a gash in Mary Sue’s cheek, and first thing the next morning, they send her straight back to the orphanage. Sister Maggie asks about the gash. Mary Sue says she fell off her bike. What use would there be in telling the truth, after all? The nuns wouldn’t care, not when they themselves regularly wield rulers that leave fat, bleeding welts on Mary Sue’s knuckles.

She dreams about it, though. Juliana with her mija and her bandages, Alberto with his kind smile, Robbie who’d called over his parents with worry for a mere stranger. Baby Gabriel, soon, wailing and wanted. The family she could have.

Could have, but won’t. Mary Sue can wail, but she will never be wanted.