#if you decide to leave the church you don't just like get to keep living there and inherit the building

[hedge-rambles]

Oh this is fun because I was just reading about Sedevacantism and the Palmerian Church just the other week, and now I see this on my dash?

And I love how this started with "the church is cruelly trying to stifle these poor nuns so they can capitalism them :(" and then does a handbreak turn into "wait, no, actually the nuns have been infiltrated by a heretic cult who reject Vatican II and all subsequent Popes, and are currently committing several types of crime". Gotta respect the absolute balls of 1: accusing the Church of basically doing the entire thing they were trying to do and 2: trying to sue the Church for €1.3M damages, because...the nuns couldn't pay the Church €1.2M?? Like what even is the logic there?

And having an unordained bartender playing priest dressup as their public spokesman? And in PR shots? Absolutely wild. Like, I don't know if that's technically heresy but it can't be far off if it isn't.

(Why was I reading about Sedevacantism you ask? Why, for a stupid idea for a Lovecraftian short story I sent a friend on whatsapp, obviously...look, I just needed an example of a Catholic schismatic group that still used the Latin Mass, ok?)

Wait, some nuns of the order of St. Claire in Orduña have been asking the bishop for a licence to sell their pastries at the Derio monastery for 10 years, to no avail.

And they're so fed up they have officially rejected the Pope, archbishops, and bishops, and are now creating a schism inside their order because they're gonna sell those fucking pastries whether they like it or not.

WTF is this fantasy!!!!!

[sunni-stuff]

Price who fumbles at first sight of his new assistant; falls head over heals immediately. There's no way you needed this job; surely you had a boyfriend or someone to take care of your pretty little head.

Price who barely giving you any work, at most, you'd have a single sheet on your desk needing to be signed and then sending you off early, giving you his card to spend to your hearts content. Don't worry about the stack of papers on his desk. No need for someone like you to lift a finger.

Price who sets up to have you stay late on some days when he finds out you're single. He insists on taking you out to dinner. It's the least he can do for taking up your time, dovie. Brings you to a real fancy place and doesn't hide the satisfied smirk on his face when you comment how you've never been somewhere so nice before.

Tries to be respectful as you talk about your day, but his eyes keep straying down to the tight bodice you're wearing, breast pushing up real nice, giving him a good view while he drinks from his wine glass. Though he damn near breaks it when the waiter lingers too long, badgering you about a refill when really he wanted another glance at what he can't have.

The night ends with Price taking a really tispy you home and fucking you face down into the mattress. His hands roam your back, trailing from your spine down to your ass, squeezing every bit of flesh he can get his paws on. He commits everything about you to memory.

The way you moan when he kisses your neck, the way he can make you tighten around him by playing with the curves of your body, and how your orgasm sounds like church bells ringing. He decides right then and there he wants to keep you forever, he cums twice that night, pumping you nice and full.

The next day, Price shows up to work excitedly, thinking you'd finally throw him a bone, tell him that you see more than just one night. He's completely disappointed when you treat him the same. Oh, okay, that's fine. If everything that occurred was just for the moment, he could live with that. Price lives through the memory. It keeps him up at night, leaving him painfully yearning for you.

For a while, this continues until you walk into his office a couple of weeks later, all nervous, stuttering over your own words, claiming you missed your period.

P2

[melminli]

Ddakji Man

summery - you were always struggling to make ends meet, despite having three separate jobs and you doubted that that would ever change. it felt like you were working out of your own casket and it would probably be more sustainable to invest in one at this point.

pairing: (gong yoo/ji-cheol) the salesman x fem. reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: slight arguing, cursing but nothing too graphic tbh

"Are you sure that you don't want to come?" One of your friends asked you a little sadly since you were about to leave the group. They rarely got to see you anyway, did you have to leave so early? "You never come with us when we go out for a drink, we miss you there, you know?"

You smiled a little tiredly as you strolled casually through the streets. "I'm sorry guys, I just have to work tonight." you tried to explain. Besides, I'm fucking tired and just want to get some sleep before then. I miss my bed.

Your best friend pouted as she hugged you from the side and you welcomed it, even if it made walking a little more difficult. "It's always work this work that. Live a little for once, all this stress is not good for you. You need a break." she spoke up before a thought came into her mind that made her a little furious. "Don't tell me that you're using work as an excuse to cancel on us. We can do something else if you want to. I'll even invite you, come on!"

You took a tired breath. I don't have any energy for this. "Trust me, I'd love nothing more than to get drunk with you and I'm not being sarcastic or anything." you clarified. Besides, I wouldn't work this much if I didn't have to.

"All right." she gave in unhappy. "We'll catch you one of these days, I can feel it..."

You laughed softly. "Please do," you replied and stopped in front of the stairs that led to the subway. This was the place where you had to part ways with the others and you did with a few more hugs. You enjoyed spending time with them and loved your friends with all your heart, but you were still happy to be a bit on your own now.

So you plugged in your cable headphones and played your current favorite song at the loudest volume before checking when the next train was going to arrive. Another twenty minutes? The last one must have just left. You decided to just sit down on a bench and wait while staring blankly around and quietly mumbling the lyrics to yourself.

A few minutes later, a person sat down next to you and you could see out of the corner of your eye that it was probably some kind of businessman or something. You didn't look closely out of politeness and turned your gaze somewhere else after checking the time on your phone.

"Excuse me." the unknown man tried to get your attention, but as expected, you could barely hear him over the booming music. He placed his briefcase in the space between you before leaning closer to your figure and looking towards you with a smile and finally, you seemed to notice his stare and turned in his direction. You took out one of your earbuds as you met his gaze. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

The man leaned back again. "I haven't said anything yet. I wanted to ask if I could talk to you, do you have a moment?"

You looked around a little uncomfortably as he maintained uninterrupted eye contact with you. "Ehm, well..." you stumbled slightly over your words. "I'm not religious or anything, sorry," you replied, having no patience for another discourse about Jesus and the church. This is the fourth time this week, lucky me. You thought to yourself as you were about to put your earplug back in.

The salesman held a hand in the air to stop you from doing that to keep your attention. You just looked at him uninterestedly and waited, it was going to be a while before your train arrived anyway. A smile graced his face after you were willing to listen to him again. "That's not what I wanted to talk about, I just want to offer you a chance."

Your face tightened a little in disgust and you were quite irritated by now. He seemed to be waiting for some kind of answer and didn't say anything else, so you had no choice but to interpret his words. He doesn't look like that kind of guy, but I guess it's always the ones who look the most decent. "Listen to me asshole," you said openly this time, all politeness gone as you pointed at his chest with your index finger. "I don't know you, maybe you're one of those men who try to talk in riddles to seem mysterious or something, but right now it just sounds like you're looking for someone cheap to fuck." you replied as you tapped his tie with each syllable and leaned a little closer to him as you whispered. "And I'm not cheap, so you might want to look elsewhere."

This time it was you who grinned as he looked at you in surprise and he let out a small grunt after you finished your sentence. The salesman straightened his tie while watching your figure before reaching for his briefcase and revealing its contents, "That's too bad, but also not what I was talking about," he replied as you looked at the money and colored paper in confusion. "Have you ever played Ddakji?" He asked you as he took out the red and blue paper. You just shook your head. "That's no problem at all, we can still play it if you're up for it." 

Your gaze alternated from his hand to his face. Oh, so he's crazy. You finally concluded. I guess he is too handsome to be just a normal guy, huh. You turned your head away from him, something about the whole thing just seemed perverse to you. "No thanks, I'll pass."

"You sure?" He asked again, knowing he'd convinced you as soon as he brought the money into it. These people are all the same, she'll snatch the paper right out of my hands after I start talking a language she understands. "Every time you win, you get 100,000 won from me." He began, watching the look on your face. "But if I win, you owe me 100,000 won and -"

You sighed and interrupted him. "Yes, I'm sure. I still don't want to play with you, okay?"

This time the man looked at you with a cold, icy stare. A few minutes passed like this and you just tried to ignore his gaze, but then he started talking again. "All right. 200,000 won." he finally said, but couldn't seem to get your attention back. He tried again. "Is it because you've never played the game before? We can have a practice round if that would make you feel more comfortable." he tried again and got irritated when you continued to ignore him. He looked around the area as he considered his next move. Is she waiting for me to increase the prize money further? These people usually jump up happily at the first amount since they're so desperate. He tried to collect himself again. "500,000 won." he finally said. "I've got the money right here, you just have to go for it."

When is this stupid train coming. "Look, I don't want your fucking money, understand? I'm not a gambling addict or -"

"You may not want it, but you need it," he said, annoyed. This has never happened before, is she stupid? He then spoke out your name and described your miserable living situation as if you didn't already know about it yourself. "You also have quite a lot of debt for someone who is still relatively young, are you seriously going to turn down the money I'm offering you? For what, to prove a point or something?"

You didn't know what this man's fucking problem was, he should be glad that you didn't want to take his money, and how did he even know all this? You got up from your seat next to him when the train finally arrived and turned to face him one last time. "Fuck you," you told him and then went to the doors. You even looked out of the window at him as soon as they closed before you, to show him your the middle finger.

The man in the suit watched your figure irritated until it was gone and then, took the little card out of the inside pocket of his suit, that was meant for you. He turned it over a few times in his hand before closing the open briefcase with his other one. He had already played and lost a few Ddakji games in his life, which was the point of the whole thing - to recruit players for the actual game. However, the thought of what awaited them there meant that he was still in control of the situation. He was always in control of the situation. "I didn't loose, we haven't even played." he tried to reassure himself.

And yet the whole conversation with you left him feeling like he was utterly defeated.

[s0fter-sin]

god the way ghost’s voice drops when he tells soap, “you’ll need to improvise to survive”

before that, everything he says is steady but when he acknowledges that soap’ll have to do something outside his skill set, something he intimately knows to be difficult, his voice wavers. he does the same when he says, “welcome to guerrilla warfare”; it’s sombre and serious in a way he doesn’t act for the rest of the mission. if you read into it enough, he almost sounds apologetic; like he knows exactly what soap’s about to go through and wishes he didn’t have to

he keeps soap going; poking at him and making jokes, giving him tips and asking about his progress. he never lets him stop and take a second to think bc he knows the moment he does is the moment it'll all hit him; the betrayal, the pain, the fear, the deaths, all of it will drown him and if that happens, soap won't make it

he needs him to be a soldier through and through and he knows this is one of the worst kinds of battlefields you could end up on

and the only times he slips is when he acknowledges that fact

it happens again when he says, "tryin' to get you here alive and in one piece". his jovial dark humour facade drops for just a moment when he has to face the potential reality of losing soap. then he tries to pick it back up again with, "one of us has to survive to tell the tale"; completely discounting himself as a survivor to try and rally soap and make him think it’s all down to him

and soap does the same thing

when he's calling out for ghost on the radio, he's tentative, testing the frequency, then when he doesn’t get a response, he grows desperate; "ghost, this is 7-1, do you copy?"

then when ghost answers, he smooths out his voice; he hides the pain, the fear, and no matter what response you give to ghost asking if he’s injured, soap brushes it off (“i’m good”, “what’s the difference?”, “i’m not a medic”). soap decides it’s in ghost’s best interest to hide the extent of his injuries

he doesn’t know where ghost is, if he’s secure, if he has any weapons; he doesn’t even know if he’s in las almas until he says, “there’s a church, i’m headed to it”. for all he knows, he could’ve run in the complete opposite direction. if ghost knows he’s hurt, then his attention would be split between his own survival and soap’s

and soap, who lets himself be poked and prodded towards the church, needs to hide his own doubts. maybe he needs ghost to believe he'll make it so he himself can believe it ("what are my odds?" "don't make me bet against you", "think i'll live that long?" "probably not")

he all but begs ghost to tell him he'll get through it and if he knows just how bad off he is, maybe he'll change his mind. maybe he'll think he won't make it to the church

maybe he'll leave him alone for good

"you injured?"

"i’m good"

"let's find out how good you are"

[ruinichii]

All my PCs (so far)

Gotta be my last ref sheet typa post for now because i know how annoying this can be... Maybe, plus i wanna expand on their lore more. Feel free to ask abt them, I'd really appreciate it mwuah

info undercut :))

Yumei the Tormented

† Yumei is the first PC i made, she's the most traumatized lol, the other exists because of her.

† Let's start of simple, she has a sweet tooth (obvious as a LI, she gives you sweets all the time.) She's also academically gifted (all her grades are A/A+ minus Math, girly fumbled)

† Her mother taught her how to play both the violin and piano and a song she wrote (said song can be heard playing at Bailey's office sometimes.)

† Yumei started off defiant, but since her physique isn't the very best, she decided that pleasing her assaulter will be best at the cost of her mental well-being, it's always a loosing battle.

† Unique mechanics; Trauma, Hope

† She constantly avoids Harpers therapy session (as she should)

† She works in the cafe as a waitress but was promoted as a chef, it makes her feel uncomfortable but hey she needs money. (She'd only a waitress as a LI though)

† She isn't very popular at school, but not to a Kylar degree. Yumei keeps to herself at school, she shuts herself down when her fellow classmates interact with her, she's pretty yes, but intimidating.

† Whitney loves toying and messing with Yumei on a daily basis, girlie just wants to head to english class unmolested.

† Yumei and Robin are best friends, though their relationship was stronger as kids, no trauma, and there's no need to constantly earn money. Robin relies on Yumei, being his protector and all, and she's paying for most of their payments for Bailey. Despite this, Yumei is very VERY overworked, she loves Robin (platonically) but her situation leaves a bitter taste in her tongue.

† She wants to leave town, that's why she's saving up so many money for her and Robin, but not to an extent that they'll live together, no, she'll give him the money so they could live their lives away from town seperately.

† Yumei liked Kylar before, he's sweet(ish), and always makes sure she's okay, his obsessive behaviors flew past her head, as long as no one gets hurt... This came crumbling down when she got the kidnapped event, which led to her falling (from her Angel TF)

† She avoids Kylar from then on.

† Sydney and Yumei started off as best friends actually, but Sydney ended up liking Yumei but kept it to himself since Yumei likes Kylar first.

† After the Kylar event, Sydney noticed Yumei visiting the church more often than she did and praying on a daily basis and all the time, he joins her. Yumei found Sydney's company safe so she decided to ease up.

† Then they kissed and then lived happily ever after.

† Just kidding, they got promised together though.

† Older, i see Yumei opening her own orphanage.

Kyrie the Machiavellian

† My second PC.

† A lot of people recognizes him but aren't able to understand why, like they've met him before.

† He casts and distances himself away from the town as a defense response.

† As a LI, he doesn't have a designated location where you can meet him, like Kylar in the part, Robin in his room or lemonade stand, etc. He can be anywhere.

† The citizens of DoLtown finds Kyrie intimidating, he doesn't look like he'll beat you up, but it's the way way he carries his demeanor, he looks genuinely unapproachable, some don't even know he exists.

† He smiles all. The. Time, even when the time doesn't count it, but something about it doesn't feel genuine.

† His eyes are also hollow deep black, no light, no life, no colors, nothing. (As a LI, staring at his eyes causes + stress.)

† He isn't really scrambling to leave town, besides, the outside of the town hasn't even been implement yet besides he still has some business to take care of.

Pre-awareness.

† The chart says everything about Whitney and Kyrie lmao

† Robin views Kyrie as a protector and low-key looks up to him, Kyrie on the other hand, he doesn't hate Robin but he doesn't like him either. Thinks Robin can do better at earning money for their shared weekly payment.

† Hates Kylar but genuinely likes seeing how delusional and hysterical Kylar can be.

† Has no strong opinion of Sydney, he's just library boy.

(post-awareness.) go to hell.

Zhao the Enigmatic

† Started off great because of the Vrelcoins Yumei and Kyrie (pre-awareness) gained.

† The "Fuck around and find out" pc

† Unlike the previous two, Zhao is more extroverted. He isn't over the top perse’ he's just more socially capable.

† He has his own lore outside of DoL but I'll talk about that when i want to. In Dolverse though, he's just a model, that's it.

† Has a fixation on games that require strategic thinking like Nim, and Chess, one game that isn't though, is Konpira Fune.

† He's popular, both in school and in the town.

† If manipulation is a stat in game, he'd have it at max and winning every check with Kylar being the victim.

† Aside from Kylar, he doesn't have a strong opinion about anyone at all.

† Views Kyrie and Yumei as his older siblings despite being older than them a few years.

† People don't usually assault him because of his fame but if i were to think about an actual reason (that's impossible to the game) is the fact he has a gun. 💀

† Demon TF, he's 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 like that

† If it isn't obvious enough, his character designs are inspired by Kafka (hsr) and the front man (squid game.)

~~

[niceboyeds]

but daddy i love him (e.m)

pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: sometimes you have to put the gossipers in their place, and sometimes you have to give them something to talk about. inspired by none other than the masterpiece that is The Tortured Poets Department!

contains: bullying, fluff, language, sexual innuendos if you squint, i think that's it but please reach out if i missed anything!

word count: 1.2K

a/n: hi babies I'm baaaack! with that said I'm rusty so please don't hurt my feelings lmao. i have an idea for a smutty pt. 2 if enough of you want it! okay here we go...

(tagging some mutuals so i don’t get lost in the blackhole: @luvmunson @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @munsonology @lightvixxen @ali-r3n @espressomunson 🫶)

masterlist

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

there was always something exciting about being with a bad boy. but then again, there was nothing “bad” about Edward Munson. he may get a bad rap but, aside from his lunchbox goodies, he is a gentleman before anything else. and a damn good lover. 

you sit in the diner with your friends, snickers and snide remarks could be heard all throughout the room and dozens of eyes burn into the back of your head for what felt like the millionth time. unfortunately that’s one of the prices to pay living in a small town like Hawkins.

Eddie is better than you, though, and doesn’t let it get the best of him. and while you know you could never physically fight someone, you still aren’t shy enough to threaten it. you are, to put it gently, less “reserved” with your words, and make sure to put the lonely housewives and their preppy children in their place about their assumptions of him. 

things have gotten worse as your dating life has expanded out beyond the four walls of Eddie’s quaint trailer or the few friendly drunks at the hideout once a week. you and Eddie both craved being together in public and decided long ago that you don’t care who has something to say about it. 

besides, you know who the real Edward Munson is, you don’t believe what the judgmental church-goers or ex-cheerleaders think of you. the only time it gets you is when you can see it hurting him. 

throughout lunch you keep one hand in his, feeling him tense up every so often when he hears his name come out of their mouths. 

“i wouldn’t be caught dead with that freak!” you hear from a group of your old classmates’ table followed by an eruption of laughter. 

Eddie squeezes your hand three times before letting go, scooting his chair out from the table and excusing himself to the restroom. the friends at your table all look to you for the next move, enough looks of defeat for you to end this once and for all. with a soft smile, you throw a $20 bill on the table and rise from your seat. 

“sorry guys.” you sigh, motioning for them to gather their things to leave as you push in your chair and make your way to the table across the room. Dustin trots his way to the restroom to grab Eddie as you hear Robin say your name softly, urging you to leave it be but everyone knows you can’t.

“hey guys! how are you?” you beam at your old friends, doing your best to smile at them. “Stacy, Lauren, Molly…” you exaggerate her name, informing her you heard her comment loud and clear. 

mumbles of good’s and small nods emit from them and their eyes bounce to one another nervously. “aw that’s so good to hear!” you beam, “i’m doing great too, in case you were curious. ya know, i couldn’t help but overhear you guys chatting over here and i just felt like i needed to come say hi.” their smiles drop immediately as you talk, and you let them sit in their fear of what you’ll say next. 

“yeah, you know what they say… once a bitch always a bitch, right?” silence fills the diner and you hear Max cough to cover her giggle at the door. 

“i’m sorry?” Lauren scoffs, genuinely unable to comprehend the fact that you might be putting them in their place. 

“aw, you should be. because let’s face it, it’s pretty embarrassing that we graduated years ago and you still act like this.” you look at them with pure disgust, knowing they haven’t changed in the slightest. you speak with confidence, your tone still friendly, “and to think you used to truly care for me.”

“w-we do still care for you. we just want what’s best for you.” Stacy chirps as the other two nod along with her.

“what’s best for me? pretending like you’re all some fucking saints walking around and saying you’re praying for me to ‘come to my senses’ as if i have no control over my own life? who i love is my choice, so save your prayers for yourself because you’re the most judgmental creeps i’ve ever met.”

you turn to leave, your sweet group of friends still standing by the door waiting for you, Eddie having joined them just in the heat of your argument. reaching for his hand, you crack open the door and turn one last time to their table. 

“and by the way? i’m having his baby!” their eyes widen with horror and their mouths fall agape as you follow Eddie through the door and giggle, skipping to be directly next to him.  

“woah, woah, woah?! you’re pregnant??” Steve asks, genuinely unsure as you laugh at his question. 

“no, i’m not. but oh my god did you see their faces??” 

Eddie chuckles alongside you, and you feel relieved he’s made light of the situation along with you. “yeah, not yet.”

~~~~~~~~

you sit on the couch with Eddie seated directly in front of you on the shaggy carpet. one by one you twirl his messy curls into ringlets with an unfathomable amount of hair products. you feel his once tense body relax against your knees as he twiddles with the frayed pieces of your blue jeans. 

“it’s true, y’know…” he says softly, barely above a whisper. 

“what’s that?” you ponder, curious more-so as to why his tone has saddened during your comfortable silence.

“what they all say. that you’d be better off with someone else- someone other than me..?”

“no, i don’t think they know what the hell they’re talking about.” your hands continue to work on his hair, with only a few sections left you couldn’t allow yourself to leave it be. But you continue to reassure him. 

“Eds, i don’t care that they think i shouldn’t be with you. i want to be with you. I love you. isn’t that what matters? not what all these bored-ass people think, but what we want?” 

“you… you love me?” he turns his head to face you once you drop the final curl back against his head. an ear to ear grin plastered on his face and his eyebrows wiggle. 

“of course i love you, silly. i love you more than i have the words to express.” you tell him truthfully, knowing in your heart that he is the man for you. 

“i love you too. i love you so fucking much.” 

he stands up from his crouching position, pulling you up from the couch with him. your lips instinctively crash into his. 

you interlock your fingers around his neck, trying to bring him closer to you as if you weren’t already impossibly close to him. you sloppily kiss each other before you pull away from him, a small string of saliva still connecting you to him as your lips separate. 

“eww!” you laugh, before pulling him by the hand and dragging him down the hallway to his bedroom. “come on, slow poke!”

“hey! i thought you said you weren’t having my baby.” he teased, bringing up the silly comment you had said earlier at the diner. 

“yeah, not yet.”

[captain-mj]

Wrote this at a laundromat so I hope you guys like it

Ghost had just moved to Scotland to get away from everything. His family's murders stayed a constant thought in his mind, but more than that, he didn't want anyone still loyal to Roba to find him. After wiping them off the map, he decided to do something he never thought possible.

Chose himself.

So he made his way to Scotland where no one would know Simon Riley and he bought a house and lived next to a small town so he could go over and get whatever supplies he needed before coming to hide again.

That's where he met him.

A local man who apparently was involved in the church and was in general a great person.. Most people referred to him as Soap, which Ghost thought was a very strange name, but he had also heard MacTavish which seemed more realistic.

The man saw Ghost, probably decided he was emotionally vulnerable, and decided to skulk around him. He asked, begged, pleading for Ghost to join his congregation.

Ghost turned him down each time, though he did love to see a pretty man beg. Once, he lifted lifted his mask, let him see the Glasgow smile cut into his cheeks. He hoped that Soap would assume gang member or miscreant and leave him alone, but it seemed to spur him on.

Soap MacTavish, savior of big buff men. Patron saint of being annoying.

Ghost started... watching him. The way he moved. His smile, just a little too wide with teeth a little too sharp.

He was... handsome. Seemingly kind. But Ghost was like a stray. He didn't trust affection and he wanted to keep it that way. No matter how honeyed Soap made his words or how kind the scraps he offered. Something about the man was unsettling.

Soap simply knocked on his door one day at dusk. Ghost only answered when he had his mask on. He had some kind of food in containers. "Hey! Several people I know made me these and gifted them to me, but I don't think I'll be able to eat all they gave me. Thought you might appreciate them. I know I'd be homesick, in such a new area."

Ghost stared at him, hands itching. "How did you know where I lived?"

"i knew the people who lived here before. Laid them to rest myself. Saw their last rites and all that. No other empty house around for miles."

"Other people know...?"

"Doubt it. Most don't think of you too much." Soap sniffed, looking around. "I assumed that's what you'd prefer."

"It is. Thanks."

Soap smiled. "I'll keep it between us." He kept standing there. Just waiting.

"I'm not going to invite you inside."

Immediately, those soft lips turned into a pouty frown. "At least take the desserts. I really do have no use for them."

Ghost didn't want to disappoint him for some reason, so he awkwardly took the food. "Okay. Address between us right?"

"Of course. With God as my witness." Soap grinned and left.

If Ghost would've thought about it, he'd made him promise to never come back as well. But he did not do that.

He went into his kitchen and opened the container.

Cranachan. Ghost had heard of it. The King of Scottish Desserts.

He grabbed a spoon and brought a bite to his mouth slowly. There was a thick cream with oats and raspberries. When he put a bite in his mouth, he could taste the honey and whiskey.

It was so good.

Ghost dug in on his couch. He was pretty sure this was supposed to be something he'd eat off for a few days, but he devoured all of it in one sitting. There was more of the raspberries sauce and Ghost found himself licking it from his fingers. A warmth settled in his chest from it.

Maybe Soap wasn't terrible.

Ghost got ready to start his routine of checking all of the windows and doors, but his couch suddenly felt so comfy. He felt his eyes start to close, the warmth spreading more.

For the first time since being a kid, Ghost slept all the way through the night with no nightmares.

Ghost cleaned up from the night before, feeling comfy. He noticed one of his windows was unlocked and chided himself for being so forgetful. After two sweeps of the house, he was sure no one was in his house and nothing was missing.

The dishes sat on the counter, suddenly suspicious. The idea of there being something in it was preposterous.

Ghost cleaned the dishes. "He's a fucking poster boy for good. You're being paranoid."

As time went on, he noticed things. Always on his porch or right outside. Tapping or animal noises or sometimes visions of someone right outside. The wonderful night of sleep was the last time he slept for a while.

Soap showed up again. A cross necklace Ghost couldn't remember seeing was around his neck. He looked apologetic as he had more of the delicious treat. "Sorry. It's raspberry season so everyone is making it and... well... I don't really have much of a sweet tooth."

Ghost looked at him coldly. "And you're bringing it to me? No orphans to give it to? Children to target?"

It was the first time Soap had looked upset at him. Ghost was a military man. He dealt with that constantly back in his troop. But for some reason, Soap's unhappiness got under his skin.

"No, Ghost. I just... thought you might be feeling lonely. Ya probably think I'm naive. Small town guy, always trying to talk to you..." He looked embarrassed. "Never met someone from Manchester. And before you ask, I figured it out by your accent."

Ghost looked at him for a few minutes before looking away to pretend he wasn't affected by him. "I don't."

"Gotcha... I can just... take the food."

"No. I'll still take that." Ghost quickly grabbed the home made food, noticing Soap's flash of a smile. He bit his lip as he cradled the food. "Look, I'm not a good guy. Definitely not someone you need around you."

Soap looked at him sadly. "Even outside of my faith, I still think all people deserve someone. I just... want to try to make you feel less lonely."

Ghost sighed. "Alright. Come in."

Soap got so excited. He carefully walked inside and glanced around, moving his weight back and forth between each foot.

Ghost sat on the chair he had. "Haven't exactly bought much furniture. But you're allowed to get comfy."

Soap grabbed the couch and smiled brightly. There was something about him. He looked at him and his eyes... had a shimmer to it.

Ghost paused, holding the bowl.

"Are you going to put it away? Or eat it right now?" Soap asked conversationally. He batted his eyelashes.

Ghost gnawed on the inside of his cheek. "Gonna put it away for now."

"I see. Have you been sleeping well? This place seems... so isolated. I don't think I could ever quite get a good sleep."

Ghost couldn't think of a good answer besides the truth. "Sleep has never came easy to me."

Soap frowned, batting his eyelashes at him. "I'm sorry. I hope it gets easier for you." He seemed so genuine. So sweet.

Ghost shrugged. "Thank you..."

They started to slip into rather easy banter, but he found his eyes getting heavier.

Soap got up and picked his way over. For a moment, Ghost was afraid. He almost lashed out, afraid. But he didn't touch him. He leaned in, eyes glowing against the backdrop of everything around them. "Sleep well, Ghost."

Ghost fell asleep on his chair. Soap locked the door on the way out but he didn't lock the windows.

Ghost found Tommy's photo album and went through them. He looked at the various photos of him and his family and he found himself missing them again. They looked so cute. So perfect. He left them on his coffee table, messy and covering every inch.

Joseph looked up at him, bright smiling face.

Simon was holding him. Blond curls that he spent too much time keeping bleached. No scarring.

He felt like he was going crazy as things... moved around his house. Things moved right out of the corner of his eyes. So he started preparing.

Guns were tucked into every hiding place he could. Knives even more so. He started to work out again for the first time in a few weeks. Luckily he hadn't lost too much of his physique.

Ghost eventually found himself eating the cranachan. He slept well. It was unsettling.

Right before dawn, Soap arrived at his house. The clouds were churning together but there was still some sunlight streaming through. "I brought coffee. Are you a coffee person?"

Ghost wasn't usually, but rather than deal with Soap's sad look again, he took the drink. He sipped it and found himself pleasantly surprised at how good it was.

Soap smiled. "Have any plans?"

"Gonna make breakfast... wanna join?" Why did he say that??

Soap smiled and quickly walked in. "I'd love to."

Ghost started to cook. He had been trying to learn more cooking lately so hopefully it wasn't too bad.

Soap looked thankful when he set it down and started to eat. They did so in basically silence. The cross necklace kept catching the light so he kept staring at it. When he lifted his gaze to look at his eyes, they made direct eye contact.

Soap's eyes. They were so dark. Like a shark.

Ghost felt for the gun under his side table. He tried to keep up conversation.

"Don't grab that gun, Simon."

Ghost paused what he was doing, watching the cross necklace sway where it sat. "What?"

Soap sighed. "Don't be like that. The gun your hand is on. Don't grab it." His nails clicked against the table. Too long. Too alarming. "Be a good boy, Simon."

Ghost stared at him, debating what could be done here.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"What are you?"

"Not a danger to you." Soap answers a little pedantically. "I promise." His canines. They were long and curved.

Ghost glanced at the coffee. "You were drugging me."

Soap hummed. "No. More of a... side effect of my presence. You feeling anything right now?"

Ghost could feel something tugging at the edge of his consciousness but nothing too severe. "What do you want?"

Soap swallowed. "I'm hungry. Starving."

"You saw me up here. Being vulnerable. And decided you could fuc-"

"No. Not quite. I... I know you could keep a secret."

Ghost blinked, realizing the situation. "You're... asking."

Soap looked pained. "I am. A... deal. I keep everyone away. Tell them whatever I need so they leave you alone and I get to..." His eyes trailed to Ghost's throat.

"How bad is the feeding?"

"Not bad! I take about as much blood as a blood donation. Easy peasy. I'll even bring you food for recovery just please..."

Ghost undid the top button of his shirt and Soap looked ready to wiggle out of his seat. The poor man was salivating.

Why was he doing this?

it was stupid.

Idiotic.

Self-sacrificing.

The mask hit the table.

"Go for it."

Soap leapt over the table and sat in his lap. Teeth sank into his throat as he held him, holding him tight. They pressed together and Ghost could feel the unsettling chill that came from Soap.

He grabbed the table, almost white knuckling it.

Pain radiated from where he was being stabbed into and he felt himself go lightheaded. Soap's ass was pressed firmly to his lap though and it felt...

pleasurable.

Slowly he sank into it, feeling Soap take his fill.

His pretty boy thanked him, lips bright red from blood. "Thank you. Thank you. You're perfect. My angel from heaven."

Their lips touched and Ghost groaned softly.

Soap panted in his ear. "I'll be good. Promise. Take care of you." His claws sank into Ghost who was wondering how bad the situation he landed himself was.

[star-suh]

🎃 The Posessed 🎃

jung wooyoung x male reader

cw: top priest wooyoung, profanity or sacrilege(?), hierophilia, exorcism porn, slapping, voyeurism, a sprinkle of yunho at the end.

an: i don't know much about how fathers talk yk like when they use those words like 'shall' so i won't use them.

—

y/n was walking to his home when a paper sheet hit his face, it was in an ancient language, he just folded it, saved it in his pocket and went home. while walking he felt his leg burning, the paper sheet was burning and some type of seal was imprinted on his leg. he decided to walk to his home and rest hoping the feeling would dissipate soon. it was night and y/n was sweating a lot and feeling immense heat and his dick was rock hard he started to hump his bed but nothing calmed his needs. hearing growls and moans y/n's friend went to his room and there he was, y/n was crawling in the walls and ceiling "the fuck are you looking at?" a demonic voice coming out of y/n's mouth, scared of what was happening to his friend the dude decided to go to the nearest church and ask the father to practice an exorcism on him. "hello, i'm father wooyoung in what can i help you?" he asked, a tired guy trying yo catch his breath responded "my… my friend i think… he's possesed. he was crawling the … fucking walls", "don't say bad words in the temple of god, son" the father responded "where does he lives?"....

y/n was now with his hands and feet tied up with ropes to each corner of the bed, "i suggest you to leave the house, i don't want another person to get possesed" suggested the father to the other guy who ran immediately from there. "so… where are you going to start?" asked the possessed y/n, "what do you mean? start what?" asked the father, "start to break this hungry ass" laughed y/n putting his thighs together trying to get some friction for his hard dick "it feels so hot inside just put inside please, it's already wet down there no need for lub" he says while sticking out his tongue and licking his lips. father wooyoung started to sweat those nasty words going straight to his dick who it's starting to get hard "what's your name demon?" he asked in a demanding tone "fuck yeah daddy, i like the dom ones" mocked y/n moaning and biting his lower lip. father wooyoung was starting to feel frustrated and horny too, something in the air was making him dizzy "what's your name demon?, leave this innocent person alone and go back to where you belong" he started to read the bible and point a crucifix towards y/n.

"wait" said y/n in his normal voice "what is happening?" father wooyoung looked at him surprised "i'm trying to save you son" he says but y/n's face turned into a mocking smirk. he laughed hysterically "c'mon i know you want it too" says the possessed guy breaking the ropes "honestly i don't know why people keep using ropes to tied possessed ones" he says rubbing his hands "aren't they supposed to have super strength?... anyways" y/n sat in a doggy position and rubbed his ass on father wooyoung's bulge "fuck it is so big, give it to me please" says y/n being a blushing mess and sticking out his tongue "you're a slut, get the fuck away from me" father wooyoung slapped y/n's hands very hard making him moan "fuckk~ i love that" y/n then grabbed his pants and ripped them apart showing his inviting hole craving for cock "fucking bitch" says father wooyoung with his notorious bulge forming a tent in his clothes "go back to hell and leave this person alone. the power of christ compels you" he repeated that last phrase three times and everytime he says it y/n moaned as if he was enjoying it. feeling defeated father wooyoung fell to the floor not knowing what to do, he stared at y/n's hole clenching while he was fingering himself "come and replace this fingers with your thick veiny cock father. exorcize me with that holy meat" he moaned while humping the bed again, as if he was possessed too father wooyoung just stood up, discarded his clothes and slapped his cock between y/n's ass cheeks "look what you're making me do" said the father worriedly, "don't fight the feeling, let yourself go and enjoy the feeling" moaned y/n with the father's tip inside of his ass already "fucking slut!!!" yelled the father slamming all his meat inside y/n at once making him see stars "hngh…. shit, i love this" says a cockdrunk y/n.

father wooyoung kept banging y/n's corrupted hole "i'm gonna expulse that slut demon out of you with my holy cock" he says with a mix of disgustment and pleasure on his face. y/n started to jerk off feeling that sensation in his lower tummy "you know for being a father you surely fuck good", father wooyoung slapped his face "shut the fuck up" he says with hatred, then grabbed y/n's dick and stroke it as hard as he could making him cum at the spot, it looked like a fountain of white sticky cum painting everything around it in white ropes. he doesn't realize it but y/n's eyes turned back to his normal color and the seal of his leg dissapeared "take this sacred seed and repent from your sins, manwhore" he says feeling his cock throbbing inside y/n filling him up with thick cum. feeling exhausted he positioned his hands on the side of y/n's head, both making eye contact, father wooyoung's sweat falling onto y/n's skin "father what is happening?" asked y/n feeling confused bit the sight in front of him was majestic, father wooyoung is hiding a smoking hot body under all those clothes, y/n just locked his arms on father wooyoung's neck and kiss him, the older corresponding to the kiss and started to thrust again going for a second round…

demon yunho was sitting on a tree, all this time he was watching the pornographic event while jerking off. with a movement of his hands he made the seal disappear and therefore recovered the part of his soul "that father fucks so good, damn" he says as he prepares to return to his lusty kingdom…

people were surprised seeing how y/n, someone who almost never went to church on his own, is now the first to go when it opens. what they don't know is that he is going to kneel but not exactly to pray "forgive me father for i have sinned" says the boy, father wooyoung just caresses his cheek and then slap it gently with his thick veiny cock "i forgive you my son" y/n just open his mouth and he starts to mouthfuck the boy. they spent the rest of their lives committing profanities giving in to their sexual desires and fantasies.

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

Hi 👋 I'm knew to posting stories so please don't be rude , I understand that this isn't what some people like ,but there's no need to be rude. I appreciate everyone who read my first post and I am very grateful for them. Please leave tips on how I can improve. Thank you for your time and enjoy!!

Note: this is the first chapter of that little drabble I did. This chapter doesn't include damian or the batfamily. Next chapter it will. I just wanted yall to see readers family dynamics ,and I didn't want to make the chapter so long. Oh ,and N/N= nickname.

WARNINGS: None really no one is yandere ,yet.

-💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗-

It was snowing. Which should be no surprise to you ,atleast not at this time of year. It always snowed in October ,always. As always the snow was beautiful and quite peaceful as well. Watching the perfectly white snow fall onto the dead leaves on your yard was quite peaceful.

Comfortably sat on your living room couch waiting for your dad to get ready for church. You quietly watched TV. You had already been ready for about half an hour. Decided in it was best to get ready earlier than later. Just like your mother had always told you. Your mother always rather be early to an event rather than on time ,and usually she was on early. But then came your father. Now Your father was the complete opposite of your mother. I suppose that's what evens them out.. See your father always seemed to have a problem with keeping up with the time. So more often than not you'd be late because of your father.

You didn't mind though, atleast not as much as your mother did. You found it funny how your tall and fierce father. Sherrif of the small town you live in. Looked like a kicked puppy as your mother scolded him.

you silently watched as your father practically ran through the house looking for his church clothes. You smile as you see your mother walk towards you. She smiles back at you and kisses you on the top of your head. "You ready for church , baby " she says walking to kitchen. "Yes ma'am " you say turning your attention back on the TV. "Good" your mother says packing the food she plans to bring to church. You sigh in frustration. There's never anything to watch on Sunday. So you resort to the only channel that might be interesting. The news.

Your eyes open in excitement when you see the headline for today. BATMAN SAVES GOTHAM FROM A NUCLEAR BOMB! You always liked batman. You thought he did good. Sure he made some mistakes ,but he was only human. After all he had saved Gotham , like a thousand times. So he had to be good.

"Baby turn that off. I don't want you seeing that kind of stuff." Your mom says from behind the kitchen counter. "C'mon mom it's batman. He's a hero." You say trying to persuad her. Nothing big like that ever happened in your small town. Sure you were gratefull that your town wasn't always being attacked ,but nothing even slightly exciting happens in your town. So you live off the gossip of gotham.

"The only hero you need is Jesus. So turn. It. Off. I'm not telling you agian, baby." Your mother says gently smiling at you ,but you know better than to push her buttons. So with a dramatic sigh you turn off the TV.

"Thank you. Now go check on your brother for me." She says pointing towards your brothers room. " whatever" you say quietly ,scared of what she would say if she heard. Because in her eyes that's 'disrespectful'.

"Riley are you ready?" you say knocking on your brothers bedroom door. No reply . So you knock agian. No reply. "I'm coming in."You say and your shocked about what you see when you open the door. Riley your 7 year old little brother is sleeping peaceful in his bed. quickly you rush over to his bed. "Riley wake up ,mamas gonna kill you." You say as you shake him. Slowly he opens his eyes. "What's wrong N/N." He says and you almost feel bad for how concerned he looks ,but then you remember.. He's the one that decided to play Mario Cart all night.

" It's Sunday riley" you say. You watch as realization hits him straight in the face. Quicker than you can imagine he's up and running around in his room. "Oh no , does mama know I slept in." He says grabbing him a towel to take a shower. "No , she thinks your ready." You say but surely he didn't hear you by how quickly he rushed to take a shower.

Being the kind sister you are you grab him some cloths and leave them on the bed.

Deciding that it's definitely best not to go back to the living room. Since your mother would probably ask about riley. So instead you go to your room.

walking in your room you stand in front of the mirror your grandpa had made for you. Looking in the mirror you definitely thought this was one of the best outfits you had worn to church. Not the most expensive though ,since most of your clothing was thrifted. Nevertheless you did love your outfit today.

"I'm ready." You hear you father yell. "Well it's about time." You hear your mother reply. You smile to yourself as you walk towards the front door. You know your mother and father love eachother, but to someone that doesn't know them would probably think their about to sign divorce papers any minute. "You look beautiful ,princess."your father says with a light kiss to the top of you head.

"Riley!" Your mother yells ,since she didn't see your brother by the door. "Coming." He shouts back. Hurriedly your brother practically runs down the stairs. " how do I look." Riley questions and you don't even have to say what's on your mind. Because your father beats you to it.

"Like a mess." Your father says. Which earns him a punch on the arm by your mother. "Nonsense , you look handsome baby." You mother says as she gives him a kiss on the head ,and pats his hair so it doesn't look like a literal mess. "Thanks mama." Your brother says with a smile. "Well we better get going or we're going to be late." Your mother says. As she practically pushes everyone out the door. "Darling, it's only 7:10 by the time we get there we're going to be 40 minutes early." You father says with a sigh. Unlocking his truck.

"Which is practically late." Your mother says hopping into your father's Ford. To which your father just shakes his head with a smile.

The drive to the church wasn't long ,but you wish it was. So maybe you could get to watch it snow for a little longer. Snow was beautiful. Snow seemed to cleanse everything and turn it white agian. Which if you said that to your mother she'd probably say Jesus does the same thing...

Looking over to where your brothers sitting. You can see he's passed out. His head is resting on the window and he's drooling a bit. He looks kinda cute ,but that's only cause he's asleep and not cuase trouble. An you know it.

'Today is gonna be a good day.' You say to yourself ,and Who wouldn't think that it's Sunday. Every Sundays a good day because we get to go to church ,and see family. Maybe it was a bit naive to think that just because it was Sunday it was going to be a good day ,but that's how you were raised.

Ten years from now you'll look back and wish that for once. Just once in your 16 years of having lived your family would have missed church this sunday...

-💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗-

THANKS FOR READING!!!!

[fangweaver2099]

𝐅 𝐀 𝐖 𝐍 𝐓 𝐄 𝐄 𝐓 𝐇 - CH 2 - LONELY OLD MAN

MINORS DNI 18+ FIC

You’ve always liked the idea of having a dominant partner - BDSM was something you’ve read about, watched videos about.

Something you made Pinterest boards and aesthetic tumblr posts about when you were 18 and curious, the idea always sounded nice, but you’ve never done it in practice, not really. Sure you bought fuzzy handcuffs at a gag gift store once, but that didn’t really count.

You’re still a virgin.

You’ve always had that chronically awkward, workaholic type of vibe that made typical dating near impossible at worst and frustrating at best. Normal dating apps have proven fruitless and agitating. So poor curious little you talked yourself into making a fetlife account. You weren’t looking for true love, but at least you could get laid.

DM Request from: 10:13 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hello, Fawn.”

College was for new experiences after all.

CW: BDSM heavy/centric fic. Safe, Sane & Consensual. Miguel is your professor, but you both don't know that. Age Gap (Y/N is 23, Miguel is mid 30's)

TAG: @slut4oscarissac23 @iamtheprincess227 @haveclayeveryday @sphynxfoxslut69 @junehasnotbeenfound @thedevaxer @bunnibitez @kodzuminx

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - CHAPTER 1 - CHAPTER 3

Miguel didn’t realize he was lonely until it all hit at once.

He'd only had Gabriella for a week before Gabriel had swooped in, claiming 'uncle rights', to steal Gabriella away for the weekend. Things had been quiet since the divorce - Tempest had Gabi for the school year, and already, he was feeling distinctly alone, all too aware of the daughter sized hole his brother had forced him cruelly and unusually into. 

He was lonely. After the divorce, things had been quiet. Most of his friends had grown distant, with some vanishing and flocking to Tempest's side following their separation. Once a cheater, always a cheater, they'd proclaimed. 

He hadn't even cheated on her… at least, not that time. 

He was doing everything right- he had grown as a man and as a father too. He was ready to settle down, but Tempest had other plans. It was a mutual decision, best for everyone. There were no hard feelings on his end, but the pain of an empty house was new and raw. He had always lived with someone - his mother, stepfather and brother, then a roommate, then his brother as a roommate, then a string of girlfriends. 

He always got the feeling Tempest never really wanted a marriage, but health insurance was too good a deal to give up. It made logical sense, even if she was hesitant at first. 

She’d been involved in the kink scene since before he’d ever met her. She was polyamorous, and that had never been a problem either - he even tried it himself but decided it wasn’t for him. It was a boon, even, when he worked late into the night and Tempest needed somebody to keep her entertained. 

When Gabi was born, it became more of an issue. He knew from the second he saw her that she was his , not just a daughter but his entire world, and suddenly, the idea of Tempest running around, leaving Gabriella in the hands of total strangers was… suddenly unacceptable. Eventually, he acquiesced to family babysitting, but even then, it itched. 

So Webrigger2099 disappeared, logging out one day and never logging in again. He just didn’t have the time, or the interest, or, with Gabi, the desire. Besides, he was married. The archetypal family man he’d never thought he’d want to be.  

But still, neither of them were happy. Tempest didn’t like being tied down, and he didn’t like the fact the mother of his child roamed late into the night dallying while he worked. It led to arguments, to stress, and, inevitably -

To divorce. Tempest was a free spirit - Miguel was not. She took Gabriella during the school year, he got her during the summer, and that was enough. 

None of the phone calls or report cards she’d sent would make it easier to cope with the loneliness.

Years later, and the big house began to feel cavernous, more a church to the worship of solitary confinement than a home. No daughter, no wife, no family, just himself, online papers to grade, and the week old takeout container of Chinese he’d been steadily avoiding eating. 

On a whim, he’d logged back into the account, and there, he’d found… Fawn. Local to the area - and wearing a black facemask in every photo you took. You were beautiful. 

Things had gone great. He was having fun. He wasn’t ready for romance, sure, but a man had needs.

He didn’t need to see any more than your eyes to be hooked, but the rest was icing on the cake. Now that he had seen your lips he was even more charmed, despite the circumstances.

You were genuine, a little bit awkward but sweet and eager. Like a virgin, unsure of yourself and needing guidance by a firm but caring hand. And god, you trusted him off the bat. 

That power could have been abused easily, and he even warned you as much. Strange men online were not the most trustworthy souls, him least of all. You were his pet, after all, and it was his responsibility to make sure you knew how to tell good from bad.

You were clearly not that experienced, not in sex or in dynamics. You needed guidance on how to touch yourself properly, even. He knew your body better than yourself and that wasn’t exactly something he wanted to pass on to your next dom. Better you learned with his teaching what you wanted and needed.

Maybe he had gotten more attached than he liked to admit, protective of you. It wasn’t like he could keep you to himself forever, as fun as that might have been, but still, he found himself looking forward to your messages. 

You were the only one he had ever really felt that way about, to be perfectly honest with himself. Getting married to Tempest was a necessity because of the baby, and sure he loved her, but the cracks began showing quickly into the pregnancy. 

Not you, you seemed to want what he wanted. Nothing too serious, long-term not permanent, but still intimate. 

It wasn’t fair. 

(Nothing in his life was ever fair.)

Miguel’s hands steepled in front of him, a single bead of sweat running down his brow. He was hard as diamonds, but his stomach churned with sickness. This was not a development he was expecting.

The ticking clock on the wall was the only noise in Miguel’s office, and he was thankful he couldn’t hear his own heartbeat in his ears. 

He prayed he was wrong - there were well over eight million people in NYC and over fifteen different colleges, maybe you just had a similar tattoo.. And.. build… and hair color… Yeah, that seemed likely.

You stupid fuck , he cursed himself. 

It seemed like he just couldn’t stop losing. 

Divorced at 32, a mother that hated him, a tense relationship with his brother, a tenser relationship with his biological father.

And a little girl he only had custody of during the summer.

This job was supposed to get him away from the stress that came with working at corporate HQ. 

This job was supposed to make everything easier. His two escapes - this job and Fawn - were about to implode all at once.

His phone sat in front of him, mocking him for his paralyzed fear. It should have been simple to check, to compare the tattoos and bikini and write it off as a mistake. Or… maybe he didn’t want to even consider the possibility that he had been sexting with one of his new students for three months, much less what he would do if that was the case.

Fawn would have noticed by now, right? Anonymity sending pictures had its limits and he knew he had an imposing physique. If you were Fawn - you’d surely notice. You’d bring it up, right?

(Then again, college girls weren’t exactly the most perceptive people.)

You - Fawn didn’t seem like the STEM type, had to be something artsy . Right?

Miguel was a lapsed Catholic and yet he found himself praying that he was wrong. 

A much worse possibility crept into his mind. You knew, and you liked this turn of events. You didn’t seem like the malicious sort, not interested in blackmailing him for a good grade, but maybe it was some fucked up kink thing. The power dynamic was there, the secretiveness it necessitated, the wrongness of it all. Intentional or not, if word got out your position here was gone.

Besides, Fawn was twenty-three .

She couldn’t be a freshman in her second year. The 4.0 GPA and high marks in your last semester didn’t hint at someone who had to repeat introductory classes. 

Or Fawn lied about her age. 

That would be even worse.

This was all some terrible mistake. Maybe her tattoo was a tik tok trend of some kind, he would even settle for it being a mark of membership for a cult. Anything was better than the alternative.

Still, Miguel stared at the dark phone screen in his hands. He had ten minutes at most before class started and he had to get to the bottom of this before then. 

He snatched the phone with urgency, scrolling quickly through his messages in a frantic search.

He found himself enlarging the image Fawn sent the last evening, just in her bikini. His eyes focused on her arm and that teary-eyed fawn laid down in a bed of grayscale roses. 

Miguel was a scientist, he worked through logical conclusions. It was simple inductive reasoning. The placement was the same, even the framed roses. 

You and Fawn had similar eyes, similar eye color, similar skin tone - but Fawn’s pictures were always a bit dark or cloudy, her phone was far from new, so the darker skin tone would make sense, right? But you were wearing glasses today, he swore that he’d never seen Fawn wearing glasses.

He placed down the phone for a moment, running his hands over his face with a panicked sigh, trying to keep himself calm. He was so deeply fucked. Contact lenses were used by all sorts of people, and glasses could fog up with a mask on or ruin photos from the flash.

How the fuck had he not noticed? It’d been almost three weeks .

Here, Miguel thought everything was looking good. In truth he adored Fawn. Her companionship, friendship? …Pethood? He didn’t need to really figure that out right now - it was something he enjoyed. 

Despite his reservations that she - young and inexperienced - would instantly take his feelings to her as romantic she seemed no problem drawing the line in the sand. 

She was perfect , it’s why he wanted to meet her.

Now she might be you . 

His student. 

One who he was pretty sure despised him. 

You never even bothered to ask questions, you sat by Taylor while she stared daggers into him every lesson. Your work was middling at best and you liked to cut corners.

Fawn wouldn’t do that, right ?

He had to get to the bottom of this, right now. Miguel was a good man, he took care of his daughter, he watched over his kinda-niece. He contributed to the community - he took care of people.

 Miguel was not the kind of man to sext with one of his students. 

Not on purpose, anyway , he thought grimly, slinking into his chair as he fought the urge to hurl.

No. This was fixable, confirmable. He’d just ask you to talk after class. Quick, easy. Confirm you had a twin who he just happened to find online. 

(The whole point of Miguel’s anonymity was to protect himself, not fuck himself over.)

And if it was you? Well he couldn’t reveal it was him, surely. He would have to make an excuse as Web, some reason that he had to stop talking to her. 

Maybe Web died getting hit by a bus.

He opened the phone again with a click, scrolling through the media tab. He considered for a moment sending fawn a message. He didn’t know what college she went to, or her class schedule. 

He saw that the last time she was on Telegram was an hour ago, she hadn’t checked in since then. 

He glanced up at the time on his phone. 8:58.

He took a deep breath, counting to 10 and then tossing his phone back in his bag. It took him a moment to stand and fix the collar of his shirt before he walked back down the hall to his classroom.

The hall was full, students looking exhausted or unamused was something Miguel was used to.

It was very hard to not stare at you - sitting in the back of the class, half your body hidden by your laptop wearing a dour expression. You were far enough back your features were mostly nondescript. 

Miguel didn’t particularly like teaching, it was technically his ‘hobby’. It wasn’t hard outside of the students. He didn’t do well talking to large rooms but hey - that was fine. He was technically a headhunter for Alchemax after all. 

Right now teaching was awful . Miguel wanted to be anywhere but here and found himself randomly pausing during the lecture. Luckily everyone was too tired to notice.

How on earth was he supposed to even proceed? He had invested himself in you, two almost three months of talking and flirting, finally finding someone that had similar interests and intentions. 

If he had known before, seen you the first day of class after already meeting, he could simply help you sign up for another class and they’d never see each other again.

It would all end there, too awkward to continue.

Now, it was more complicated. 

He couldn’t meet in the summers because he had Gabriella, and she was far more important than a fun fling. He had a responsibility for his daughter, and he made the most out of his time with her as fleeting as it was. 

The summer, and a few weekends here and there during the school semester. It was the perfect set up, one that allowed him to dip his toes back into the scene and find a little companionship and fun. 

Nothing too serious, of course. Not yet.

He couldn’t just continue things as they were. She had been in his class too long, and if she transferred now there would be questions before it was allowed. How would he explain it to the department lead? 

Jess wasn’t exactly pleased with what students thought of him as it was. 

The news of him fucking one of his students would be the nail in the coffin before sending him back to Alchemax with his head held down in shame.

He did have the advantage that he - technically - wasn’t fucking Fawn. 

He needed to talk to you.

The rest of class went… as normal as it could. As normal as him occasionally seeing your bored face as you typed away notes of what he was explaining. He forgot to ask if anyone had questions again before he clicked off the powerpoint. 

He’d pull you aside the moment you walked past him, call you over. Easy. Quick. Just a conversation and then hopefully it was all one big mistake and you’d be off to whatever you did at 11AM on a Monday. 

Problem. When you stood, both of the students you always sat with rose with you. The black-haired woman even interlocked her arm with yours. You were smiling and chatting away with the rude, redheaded one who was easily a head shorter than you.

When you finally turned to leave, Miguel cleared his throat. You and your two friends stopped. The redhead frowned. Your eyes widened for a moment. 

He said your name, which only made your surprised expression worse. Miguel was grimacing. “I  need to-” 

Suddenly, a sugar-sweet voice called your name, Taylor, and Babette. Everyone glanced over at the door to - Aurora.

Miguel’s brows raised. 

“We gotta go, I left Kore with the car running!” She practically skipped into the room to you and Babette in the squealing, touchy way college girls always seemed to enact upon seeing their friends. Babette practically screeched and pulled Aurora into a hug.  

“Oh- Uncle Miggy!” Aurora exclaimed after releasing Babette. Babette and you gasped and looked over at Miguel.

There was no way. He didn’t say anything, stunned into silence. Aurora - his ex wife’s niece… cousin… thing. He wasn’t entirely sure. He had known the girl since she was 13. She was Gabriella's babysitter most of the time… and… somehow... your friend. 

You grinned at Aurora as she took the other place at your side, hooking her arm around yours and waving  goodbye. She was practically pulling you and Babette out of the room, Taylor trailing behind with their hands in their pockets. 

So. Miguel was left standing there - alone, dumbfounded. It was only getting worse. Much worse. He walked back to his office in silence, an unblinking, thousand-yard stare ignoring Professor Parker as he tried to flag Miguel on the way inside, the door shutting hard behind him. 

He sat, sinking into his chair, and flipped his phone open. Clicking open the browser, he opened up Aurora’s instagram. That’s what the kids used for all their social media nowadays, right? He had been told about it by his ex-wife and… ex sister-in-law, part of his ‘job’ is keeping an eye on Aurora. While they expected him to monitor her, the truth was he checked in once or twice a semester to see if she was still alive. She had his number for emergencies, and he kept his hands off. It was a good system, one he didn’t have to think about. 

Kids could take care of themselves… Kids. Fawn was practically a kid, a young twenty something that had her whole life ahead of her.

God. Was he a pervert?

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose as he scrolled through Aurora’s page. Just as he expected, the screen was littered with photos of you. 

On campus, at restaurants, at an apartment with you, both of you in your pajamas. Miguel swore you saw a picture that peeked into your bedroom, a familiar sight from your photos. 

You weren’t just one of her friends - you were her roommate .

Miguel took a deep breath, fussing with his dark hair as he checked the time on his phone. He had to be at Alchemax by now. So despite the anxiety curdling his gut, Miguel made his way out of the college building.

Driving had always been a comfort for Miguel, his mind half shutting off and relying on pure instinct as he saw the world flash quickly to his sides. Usually he didn’t think of much anything at all while he drove, taking it as a quiet moment amid the chaos of his responsibilities. 

There was too much going on to relax like that. He felt sick as he drove, chest tight and stomach churning. Every relationship he had ever had with a woman seemed to crash and burn, romantic or otherwise. His long list of exes, his mother, now you. Would Gabriella be next, another casualty of his inevitable fuck-ups?

Miguel had really liked - still liked - you. The thing you two had was good, was fun and casual. There were no big expectations. No hard feelings about him having other priorities.

This was easier until it wasn’t.

Was it even possible for something like this to work out? He didn’t want to lose you, but it seemed like the only option as the complications stacked up.

He sat with this feeling through the whole ride, and well into his shift at the lab. He tried to pour over the plans in front of him, the techs trying to explain their work while he was gone… But he was obviously distracted.

“Is this a bad time, Dr. O’Hara?” His assistant chimed, a concerned look on her face as she tipped her head curiously. She had been talking to him for a minute at least, but only when he heard his name did he snap into momentary focus. 

The woman in front of him had worked closely with Miguel for years, a reliable if quirky sort some years his junior. Her heart-shaped glasses were hardly fitting in with uniform regulations, but it's not like she was handling chemicals. Not now, anyway. 

She was probably the closest thing to what he would call a friend, and he really didn’t want to call Parker a friend even if he was a man of honor at Peter’s wedding. She was better at respecting boundaries.

“Sorry, no. Just a… Headache today. Can you repeat that, Lyla?” He shifted his attention to her as best he could, rubbing his eyes and rolling his shoulders. The doctors told him he needed to stop staying so tense all the time, to release the pressure in his shoulders. It was almost painful when he let them slump, but the shock was probably the only thing keeping him alert.

“I’ll type it up in an email, it’s not that important. You look like shit.” The brunette sighed, shaking her head disapprovingly. She was never one to talk fluff. It was part of why he liked her so much.

An email. A text. No, this was too important to type to her. He would have to wait til the next class.

Besides, What if he was wrong? How would he explain that to Fawn? She was already a bit nervous and new to all this.

Just as the door clicked behind her Miguel heard a ping at his phone, a familiar username popping into view.

“Off to the shore now. I’ll make sure to take pics :3” - Fawnteeth - 12:05 PM

[bigfan-fanfic]

Back Into Trouble (Winchester!Reader x Winchester Bros PLATONIC)

A sequel to Brother Mine

This fic takes place somewhere near the end of season 1, after episode 19 but before episode 20. In addition, there's a song called Brother Mine that is really sweet and cute especially if put into this context of being Sam and Dean's, but especially Dean's, older brother. "I know that I sit and I worry too much/Especially when you come home such a sight/But I guess what you've got to do, boy, you go ahead and do it/And I sure hope things will be all right"

You may not have enjoyed returning to hunting, but you're damn good at it.

Although it's made even more frustrating when your father actually calls in.

You're not so thrilled about continuing on this... gallivanting cross-country, especially when John is chasing down the demon that killed your mother.

But Sam seems to have come to terms with it, though you honestly feel like that might have more to do with his desire to avenge Jess.

The real problem you see with your little brothers is their inability to let go.

You had all been raised by John in the hunting lifestyle, the family business.

But it's been decades since your mother's death. A horrible thing, that you have had to come to terms with having no real answers for.

And you can understand the desire for vengeance, for a clear-cut answer that will "solve everything."

It won't.

Something you've tried to get your brothers to think about is the future. About what they want out of their lives.

Because you remember how it was, living completely in the moment, day to day, hunt to hunt. And it was Bobby who pointed out that you had potential, that you deserved a life, if not now, then at least the promise of one.

So you convince them to take a rest in Massachusetts after leaving a hunt. Just to take a couple of days for hanging out.

Dean wants to see the Cheers bar and Sam wants to visit the Old North Church, so you get an actual hotel suite in Boston.

You check in with your colleagues and employees, apologizing for being incommunicado for so long. Thankfully the hotel has a business center with a fax machine you can sign invoices and contracts with.

Dean looks at you curiously. "So... you really did just... start a business?"

"Technically I bought it out from the owner who wanted to retire. So more... maintaining."

"You really are just... out of the life."

"I was, til you two called me."

"...sorry." Dean mumbles, and you grab his shoulder.

"Don't be. I was never doing this for Dad. I'm here for you and for Sammy."

Dean nods thoughtfully.

"You saw him. With that girl at the art gallery. He liked her. She liked him."

"Yeah."

"And you... with Cassie."

"Your point being?"

"Life keeps building off-ramps for you but you keep on truckin down this road."

Dean scowls. "Look, I'm not stupid. I know this life is dangerous. I know my days are probably numbered. But I'm making a difference. I'm saving people."

"What about you?"

He blinks. "What about me?"

"I'm done trying to force you out of the life, Dean. It's your choice. When we finally deal with all this shit - when the bastard that killed Mom is dead and you and Sam are finally free... I'm not gonna stop you if you go back to hunting."

"You're not?"

You nod. "But I'll be damned if I'm gonna lose contact with you again. I'll be there when you need a place to crash or a voice to call. Maybe you'll even visit me.

"Just... I need you to promise me you're not gonna run yourself into the ground. None of this has been your fault. It's not your fault about Mom, and it wasn't your fault I left, and it's not your fault that Dad couldn't really be a dad to us."

Dean wants to protest but you shush him. "You're gonna do what you do. And I'm gonna stop hunting again. For good this time. But when you decide it's time to come home... I hope you come to me, little brother."

You stand up then, leaving Dean to his thoughts. He's quiet for the rest of the day, but you feel an almost companionable nature to the silence.

And just maybe, after this all... maybe your brothers will follow you away from the things that go bump in the night.

[thelastwalkingsoul]

Steve never really 'did' easter.

His parents were always away or too busy. Easter egg hunts were always 'too childish, Steven.' He was usually stuck in the house with a nanny or by himself, or being shoved into itchy clothes and dragged to church. Steve didn't get jealous when all the other kids would talk about their easter with joy in their voices. He didn't get upset that get missed out. It was fine, really it was. Steve didn't care.

So, the year after Vecna, when everything had settled down, Steve had an idea. One that had absolutely nothing to do with his lack of easter celebrations as a child and everything to do with giving the kids some fun.

It's Eddie who finds him filling the plastic eggs with candy. He looks all sleep-ruffled, his hair a mess, engulfed in one of Steve's sweaters. Eddie chuckles as he pours his coffee, coming to lean on the kitchen bench across from Steve. "Does little Stevie want to do an egg hunt?"

Steve knows he means it as a joke, purely seeing the situation and deciding to tease, but it still hurts. He scoffs, "Not me. It's for the kids."

Steve fights to keep his voice normal but mustn't do a great job because suddenly, Eddie's cupping Steve's face with his hands.

"Hey, baby," Eddie croons. "What's wrong?"

Steve drops his eyes to the egg in his hands. "Nothing."

"Don't 'nothing' me. Did I say something?"

Steve sighs, glancing up at Eddie's face. The concern in his boyfriend's eyes is almost too much. "I just- I want to give them something fun."

"That's sweet," Eddie says but Steve can his tactic coming from a mile away. He knows there's more, he's just waiting for Steve to say it.

He huffs, and Steve thinks he must look so childish as he quietly admits, "I didn't do anything for Easter as a kid."

Before he can do anything, he's enveloped by Eddie's warm arms. Steve hugs back, relishing in the comfort Eddie brings. "I'm sorry you missed out on that baby," Eddie whispers in his ear. Steve simply hums back, not wanting to get into it. When Steve pulls back (he's almost always the first to pull back, Eddie lets him decide when he's ready), he's greeted with Eddie's smile. "I believe we have eggs to hide, princess."

They spend the rest of the morning hiding eggs in Steve's backyard. Steve tries to make them actually hard to find. His kids are smart; simply putting a few in bushes isn't going to be enough. It isn't until he looks up to see Eddie scaling a tree that he has to reign him in and scold him. 'I don't want them up trees, Eddie! They could get hurt. So could you!' When the kids arrive, they're surprised, but after a few teasing comments about Steve being such a mom, it becomes a free for all. They're all yelling and scrambling for eggs, leaving Steve and Eddie to watch by the sidelines. He can't help but feel warm inside as he sees El's proud smile and Lucas holding Max's hand as they search. His kids are safe and having fun, which is all he can ask for after the last few years. Even Eddie's getting into it, being a menace as Dustin demands clues and cackling at Dustin's face when he refuses. He comes up to Steve later, leaning close and admitting, "I love watching them loose their tiny minds." Steve just snorts and smacks a kiss on Eddie's cheek.

After dinner, Eddie insists he'll clean up and sends Steve to go shower. Steve caves, kissing Eddie quickly before making his way upstairs. Once he's showered and back in his bedroom, he notices something yellow on his bed. A lone plastic egg sits there, suspicious. Steve opens it carefully, fully expecting Eddie to have put something strange inside. Instead, it's a piece of paper, a clue written in Eddie's messy writing. Steve follows it downstairs, finding another. And another after that. And another after that. It's the closest Steve's ever been to having an easter egg hunt, and he can't say he isn't loving it.

The trail leads Steve to the living room. A pink egg sits on the coffee table. Steve picks it up and opens it, just like all the others. Except this one doesn't hold a clue. Written in slightly more tidy handwriting are two words; 'A Promise'. Underneath is something wrapped in soft red material.

As Steve unravels it, a ring drops into his hand. It's a simple gold band that shines in the soft light. A promise.

"Do you like it?"

He looks up to see Eddie, worrying his lip between his teeth. Steve smiles, tears welling in his eyes. "Eds, I love it." He moves towards Eddie and holds his left hand out. A grin comes alive on Eddie's face. He picks up the ring with gentle hands, sliding it onto Steve's ring finger. Steve moves his hand, admiring how it looks. Admiring the meaning and loving the way he feels immediately branded as Eddie's.

Steve looks up and launches himself at Eddie, kissing him hard. He can taste tears, whether they be his or Eddie's. They kiss soft yet hard, pushing all their feelings into the kiss, only pulling away when they're both breathing heavily. Steve closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Eddie's.

"I love you, Steve. Now and forever. I promise."

Part 1 (kinda)

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 28

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 5.1k

IMPORTANT a/n: Hello! This chapter is all flashbacks!

Next chapter things start to pick up. I will still be loosely following the plot of Narcos but not the exact timeline for times sake. Would just feel cruel keeping the babies apart for five more chapters! I hope this doesn't hinder anyones reading experience.

Send asks! Enjoy

Summer 1986

There is a heat wave and you find it as a personal punishment.

You stand in the middle of your empty room and feel nothing. You see the wallpaper lifting, small drawings you made when you were a child and you see dust untouched and you feel not much.

You’re in a dress.

One you hate, but you let your mother have some control for one last time. Baby blue with off white stripes, ruffling at your neckline. Blue little heels leaving an indent in your vacuumed rug. You bought that van you passed on your way to work with the black and red for sale sign.

Packed all your belongings and held a tag sale on all your furniture. 

It wasn’t common in your culture what you planned on doing. You family is meant to be by your side forever. You don't leave.

Up and leaving like spoiled Americans, that's the way your mother saw it. She kept her thoughts to herself but you heard her on the phone with her friend.

Ranting in Spanish about your ungrateful ass. That you were given the world, you had a roof, you had a bed, and look what you give in return.

The truth is, if the endless cycle of familial guilt didn’t exist in immigrant households everyone would grow some balls and leave behind those who mistreated you– even if they were family. 

You see your mother and you see someone who wanted to leave parents that never seemed to care for her either. You see her as a young woman determined to build her own life. If they hadn’t died she’d still be in Florida in their basement hoping one day they’ll care to show love to their daughter. The cycle continues. You suppose you’re breaking it, or maybe creating a new one–who’s to say.

You’ll ask your kids when they're in their twenties.

Your mother lived for approval. It’s why she spent hours on the phone with random “friends” who acted as yes men while she described all her flaws and missteps without shame. They will tell her how she is so strong and doesn’t deserve a spoiled brat like you.

An overgrown popular girl. Your mother was.

She scurries to the feet of the Smithfield's to help with their wedding. In an attempt of kindness, she’s never been very good at this, she promises not to be so involved in the wedding considering it– "makes you all depressed.”

You looked at her with a squint but decided to nod, reminding yourself that soon you’ll be gone. You planned on sleeping in the morning of the wedding. To which that idea died when your mother frantically barged into your nearly empty room. 

“The air conditioning in their church is out! We have to move services outside. I have to get it set up.” And then she slams the door and bolts. You shut your eyes tighter and let out a scream that was actually quite liberating for 30 seconds until you were reminded that your step father was still in bed with the baby.

You pretended to be asleep when he banged on your door as a warning. You eventually do doze off and find yourself waking up numb in more ways than one at 1:30 pm. 

You told yourself that you will only attend the ceremony. You knew if you stayed for the reception you might throw down one too many mimosas and end up vomiting on Lorraine and crying for Javier.

So… yeah no.

You dress up, paint your face like a fraud and you can’t cry so there's that scary truth. You were floating, finding yourself nowhere in the middle of your empty room. So that’s when you find yourself giving your room one last look for a little while. In the dress your mom bought. Rugged floor with a mattress splayed in the middle and nothing else but cobwebs and wall drawings. You don’t dwell, you don’t think but your nails are picking at each other and you’re so scared to be alone again. 

You leave and load your new truck stuffed with your entire life and drive to church. 

You think of making the wrong turn at every light, because you could just leave for good now. Save yourself from reality.

Javier and his father spent a few nights the past week having hard conversations. They smashed down cases of beer and Javier attempted to absorb all of the golden stories his father had to offer. 

Ultimately Javier wanted to know what he felt when his mother was pregnant. 

He said to him that he felt this pull towards her, Flaca.

Despite their rocky relationship it was like her hormones and his existed as one and all they could ever think about is how they were going to be having their own little family.

Chucho says that it’s common amongst new fathers to feel guilt when they take any small glance at their partner. Because what a task it is to grow a person inside of you. He says it isn’t the typical feeling you get when someone you know is pregnant. It isn’t just a, let me be nice to her she’s with child. No, Chucho had the urge to worship the ground she walked on, thank her—he said if she was craving pickles at 2 am he’d go out and buy some. He said this pull was biological, there was no explanation for it. 

Javier wonders when he’ll begin to feel that. At all.  

“Can I be honest with you?” Frankie flattens the lapels of his tux in Javier’s poorly decorated room. Javier flicks ash in his tray, he was beyond grateful that the heat wave hadn’t fucked with the power at his dad’s ranch. If it had, the heat might have triggered him at the wrong moment and he’d be running on foot away from the altar.

That’s just the sort of mood he was in.

He was almost looking for an excuse to not get married today, to give him some time so he can find a way out while also still obtaining the right to see his child grow. 

Lorraine slept in his bed all week, Javier slept in the living room most nights. It was two nights ago when he slept in the same bed as her. He had snuck into the room for his new pack of reds he left in his jacket late at night when he heard her crying. They talked about their fears, or he explained his anxieties and guilt and she stayed silent. He dozed off with a small bump below his hand and a promise of being a good father.

He thought it was you next to him and woke up in a cold sweat. 

Today he woke up numb. Chucho had been silent and to himself ever since Lorraine made her place in the home. Chucho was going through his own grief in ways, he was losing his son all over again. He was losing you too and soon he would be completely alone like he was when Javi was in Houston and you were in college. Javier supposes he’s also angry at his irresponsibility. Just a month ago they were knee deep in dirt and Chucho begged him not to hurt you again. 

Javier’s father left the house early to help with setting up the small wedding. Lorraine was at her parents place getting ready with her mother and Javier was here, at home with Frankie.

Javier was stalling a bit, he got the call that Lorraine was already on the road and Javier hadn’t even perfected his tie yet. He shoots a glance at Frankie. “I feel like you’re always honest, even if you’re being a fucking dick.” Javier mutters, pulling his tie over his shoulders. Multitasking, taking a drag with one hand and assembling his tie with the other. Frankie chuckles. 

“When you asked me to be your best man a few days ago I thought about punching you.” He shrugs, swiping his curls out his face and sipping the beer at Javier’s nightstand. Javier frowns because he knows this isn’t just a little joke amongst friends. “And listen, you were dealt some shitty cards, this whole situation is fucked up. Luckily the impending doom of fatherhood has made me soft and I know you probably need me to be your friend right now– and I will but just know it’s really hard.”

Javi looks at the ground, he can't look your brother in the eye. He felt like he did last Thursday when he saw you in 7-11, when you looked at him and pretended he didn’t exist.

He knew it was really over, and he felt like nothing.

“I wanted to marry your sister.”

“I know.” 

Javi looks up at Frankie and find him looking away. They were best friends but their vulnerability never stretched beyond reflecting on their childhood. This was new and they couldn’t look each other in the eye. “Before… all of this. Me and Andrea planned on telling you about us.”

“Hmph.” He clenches his jaw.

“Would you have… been okay with it?”

It's silent again, just the distant white noise of his clunky AC.

“Yeah. I was angry when you first came home and honestly still upset until recently about how you left her. But my priorities shifted so I guess I would have been grossed out but ultimately happy that you know… finally.”

Javi chuckles, “Yeah… finally.” It all could've been so simple. "She would be better off without me. I'm glad she's making this move." Javi mutters.

Frankie doesn't agree but his silence is enough answer. “I don’t like Lorraine very much. But I’m about to be a dad, you're about to be a dad. I feel like this was an opportunity to be a better friend to you. I hope that our kids become best friends so I feel like you know… I gotta be here now to make that happen.”

There was the silver lining in all of this.

 The promise of a family. Even if the family was just Javier and his child. That could be enough, it was enough for his father. Javier grins at Frankie and he grins back. 

“She’s probably waiting at the altar. Let's go.” Javi jokes and adjusts his tie. Frankie gets to his feet and points to the ceiling and looks up with it.  

“Padre ruega por nosotros.”

“Thank god you’re here. They’re running so late. Lorraine is cursing up a storm inside.” 

Genie grabs your arm and pulls you into the makeshift ceremony set up. You’ll give it to your mom, she did a decent job making this look alright. The guests weren’t seated, instead they were gossiping in small groups. It was far too hot to have a wedding outdoors. You scan and realize this wasn’t the modest little wedding that was on the invitation. 

Surprise! We’re getting married at Laredo Baptist on June 21st . 

It was handwritten and left on your counter by your mother last week. You would be surprised that so many people showed up in such short notice but it’s Laredo, and it’s the preacher's daughter getting married to Laredos DEA prodigy. There were so many people from your high school you swear you could faint. 

“Isn’t the ceremony scheduled to start in 3 minutes.” You rushed out of your truck when you saw the time on your stereo. The last thing you wanted to do was walk in late when Javier’s saying his vows or what not. 

Vows.

Why am I here? 

Genie nodded in annoyance, “Sit down on the third row next to my purse. Your mom was in shambles arguing with Chucho inside about Javier’s tardiness. I’m going back to that.”

“Do you want me to come with-“ You don’t know why you asked, it would be mental warfare for you. Your mother rowdy and Lorraine cranky. It’s like your least favorite people in one room, dumb idea. Genie knew it too and just squeezed your shoulder and walked back towards the church. You watch her go with a sigh and make your way to your seat. 

The hair on the nape of your neck sticking to you like glue. You missed the seventies, you missed when the dresses your mother bought you were flowy— not stiff and hot and ruffly. It was a sensory nightmare on top of the fact this whole thing was a nightmare-nightmare.

If anyone knew your situation besides your lovely sister in law, they’d smack you upside the head and force you leave because good. Lord, was this stupid. You wondered every six minutes of today why in the world you were doing this to yourself. It wasn’t as if the situation alone made you forget what it felt like to be happy. 

But there comes that sliver, the tiny line of delusion that has you believing that this is all real.

 That it’s a hoax, that the cameras are rolling and they’ll be revealed soon. So maybe you’re at the wedding in hopes of the camera crew to come out with a surprise before the I do’s. It’s healthier to say that you’re here because watching it happen will officially end a chapter about the thing you once thought was meant to be the premise of the whole book. 

Two rows behind you, you could hear the chatter. 

“I don’t get it. He’s been home for two months without her. Now all of sudden he’s getting married. It’s fishy.”

“Exactly! It seems like a shotgun wedding. Lorraine Smithfield would never get married in a such a disorganized manner if this wasn’t obviously some front.”

“Not to start anything but I swear I saw Javier kiss Andrea outside that party Xavi threw for memorial day.”

“Andrea? Like Frankie Diaz’s little sister?”

“Yes! I heard that they hooked up in high school. I always thought they would bang.”

“Javier hooked up with everyone in high school.”

“Nah. This was different. I think he was dating Lorraine when they did. Super sneaky because Lorri and Andrea were buddies.”

“I don’t think so. I know Andrea, she's shy, she doesn’t peg me as a homewrecker.”

“Eh I guess. I don’t know, regardless it’s too bad for her. I remember she had the craziest crush on him, now she’s watching him get married.”

“Tragic.”

“Speaking of, why is he so late?”

Lorraine didn’t feel like Chuchos beat up truck was an appropriate ride to roll in for their wedding so she left him her car. Frankie loaded into the passenger's seat all fidgety and nervous. Javier still had been on a rare mental high of picturing holding his child for the first time. Frankie really brought it out of him and despite dreading getting married—he saw the slightest glimpse of hope. 

But ultimately he knows at the end of the his short ride will be an altar, and you in the stands. It was his worst nightmare. He knows married life with Lorraine will be unpleasant. Just dating life with her left him a bit scarred. Tantrums and shattered plates. Holding her wrists so she couldn’t claw at him in a fit of anger. He tried to understand her, he really did.

She told him about her parents cheating on each other constantly. The yelling and constant fighting. Mrs. Smithfield was an explosive partner, Lorraine took after her he supposes. 

They were the classic case of town socialites. Pristine and prim and perfect to everyone else. Behind closed doors, toxic and unhealthy. She told him all of it after one of her blow ups over him working later than usual. In hopes to excuse her actions. He listened, still he grew more and more resentful of their relationship with every argument that ended in him consoling him. He found it difficult to empathize with her. You can only be so awful so many times, only a few times could be excused by trauma. 

Javier rolled his tongue on the side of his mouth, clenched his jaw and held the steering wheel tightly as he inched out of the driveway. Driving as slow as he could, he needed more time. Frankie was fidgety, the same way he was two weeks ago when he was getting married. He was rambling the same, Javier tried his best to keep it together. The air on Lorraines car was shit. The suit was thick, and itchy and a bit too big. He didn’t have time to be tailored. 

Didn't have time to be tailored. How fucked was that. 

His eyes had bags and he wasn’t smiling. His chest was tight every second, it loosened at the thought of being a father. He still almost had that. He was close to telling Frankie to shut the fuck up. He was so deep in his own ramblings he hadn’t noticed that Javier purposefully drove in a loop, finding the courage to make the left on main street. 

“You know maybe it isn’t all that bad. You two aren't doing vows, service should be quick.” Frankie drummed his fingers along the dash. Wiping sweat from his brow and settling back into the car seat. 

Javi mumbled in blind agreement. 

“It’ll be nice, me and you with baby carriers. Women love that shit, not that I’m interested but you know for you.”

“I’m literally about to get married.” Javi deadpanned. 

“Well, you know it’s not like traditional. Or maybe it's very traditional, most marriages around here are arranged in a way you know? Like preordained. Half of the married people here are with the only person their parents let them around growing up. Always a family friend, or a high school sweetheart. Not me, I found my wife. She rejected me a few times but you know I found her.” He gleams and Javier can’t imagine feeling the same way he does. Maybe he was familiar, but he isn’t anymore.

Javi shoots him a side glance. “Genevieve was your high school sweetheart though.”           

“I guess. We broke up like ten times though so we both had our fun. We lived before we settled. I’m happy she took me back that last time. I wouldn’t want a family with anyone else.”

How lucky, Javier is tempted to verbalize but he keeps it to himself. “Hm.” Javi circles the street one more time. 

“If you’re going to keep stalling we might as well…” Frankie reaches into his jacket pulling out a zip lock baggie with a perfectly rolled joint. He noticed then, Javier wasn’t sure if he should feel embarrassed or not for being so shameless in his anxiety. Javi chuckles and nods in approval. “Lighter?” 

He shrugged, “Never been in this car, check here.” He leans over, tapping the glove compartment and straightening up. “You think they're going to kill us for being fifteen minutes late.”

Frankie shrugged, tucking his hand on the handle and opening the thing. A yellow lighter and three papers fall out. Two white with black type on it, and one little black square. A sonogram. Javier smiles at the sight, it seems a bit different from the picture Lorraine let him have. The baby seemed smaller, it must have been an earlier appointment. Far before she came back to Laredo. Frankie seems to not care, he was zeroed in on that lighter. “Clean that shit up man.” Frankie chuckles, grabbing the papers. 

He smiles at the sonogram. “Little guy. This shit is crazy. Lorraine Smithfield, June 6th 1986 12 weeks pregnant. Who would have thought?” Frankie chuckles, losing the doctor's note back in the compartment. Oblivious to Javier's silence, he flicks the lighter on. His brows furrow at the stoplight and make the left to take him right back to the house. His chest tight, and jaw tight. Frankie turns his head. “You alright.”

Javier blinks, once, twice. He holds the third time, the tips of his ears hot. Knuckles white. Frankie catches on, and in a panic grabs the paper again. Flipping to the second page, another note, from another appointment. And from Frankies, quiet, You’ve got to be fucking with me, the time was confirmed.

 Javier closes his eyes again, sees your face, feels the blistering heat. 

He turns his car around.

The chatter is unbearable. The people are getting antsy and the sun is getting hotter, somehow. Your dress is itchier, you’ve scratched your thigh about twenty six times. A nervous tick, you dig your heels in the grass. Dirt surfacing at your fidget.

He’s nearly half an hour late now. You’ve listened to your ex classmates gossip for far too long, you’ve been tempted to turn around and make your presence known for minutes now. Mr. Smithfield came out ten minutes ago blaming the wait on a wardrobe malfunction which earned laughs from everyone but you.

You read straight through the lie. 

You were about to reach for your twenty seventh scratch when a cold hand grips your shoulder. You turn your head and flinch at your mothers closeness. “We need you inside. Now.” She doesn’t give you a moment to think. She's taking your hand and making heads turn while she drags you to the front of the church. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark surroundings of the powerless cathedral. It's loud inside, Spanish and English overlapping. Arguing, yelling, crying. 

You drop your mothers hand and stride toward the noise. Afraid, and confused. Your heels tap against the polished floor. And your mother scurries behind you as you turn the corner and find the scene. Chucho cursing in his mother tongue. Lorraine crying, holding her stomach and Genie yelling at Mrs. Smithfield.

You blink, once, twice and wave your hands. “Woah– What's going on?!” You shake your head. Placing your purse on the ground. Lorraine looks up at you and breaks into more tears. Her mascara ran down her blushed cheeks. Her dress poofing beside her on the pew. Her father held her shoulder, with his nose pinched. Your mother is holding your arm. You shake her off. You silence the room with your presence. 

Genie turns to you fully, her cheeks red from anger. “He’s not the father.”

You don't register what she means. You stare blankly at her for a moment. You look at each of the people in the room, and it hits you.

It hits you and you take a step back like it was a physical threat. Your eyes flick to Lorraine and she's looking at you with eyes like an apology.

“I thought– I thought it would fix us– I”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” It has your head spinning, it echoes off the walls, felt like it could rattle the stained glass windows. For a moment you're unsure who it came from. You have never heard Chucho raise his voice and it strikes you. It blurs for you. 

“Do not cuss at my daughter. It was what we felt was best for her situation.” Mrs. Smithfield strokes Lorriane's hair and she leans her forehead to her mothers stomach. Chucho shakes his head and removes his hat. He holds it over his chest, with a face of absolute devastation. He takes one look at you and walks away from the scene. 

You swear you hear him rip a sob as he walks away. Torn from head to toe at the pain his son must be feeling. You want to forget the sound of the strongest person in your life crumbling.

But you– you- you're angry. You close your eyes and breathe slowly, shake your mothers grip away. You hear Genie take some steps towards you and you accept her hold. You feel anger burning so bright, the reflection in your sockets burn orange. 

Calmly, you ask, “Could someone please tell me what's going on.” 

Genevieve is angry too, she jumps to it. “She’s been lying– she knew it wasn’t Javi’s he–” She takes a deep breath. “I can't believe I called you a friend.” Genie cuts straight through Lorraine and she racks another chest heaving sob. Genie rolls her eyes and moves to stand in front of you. Blocking a view of Lorraine.

She walks you around the corner and away from the family entirely. It’s just the two of you at the entrance of the church.  “Frankie called me. He found notes from her most recent appointment. The timeline doesn’t add up– Javi– he– He’s so hurt. He’s not coming. Frankie’s on his way, he doesn’t want to be around anyone.”

Your chin quivers and you're embarrassed by it. You do not want to cry in front of her. 

“He shouldn't be alone.” You frown, lip trembling. “He shouldn’t, I have to go– I can't believe this.” You nearly take a step but she grabs you again. 

“No– No. Chucho will go see him. Her parents knew– they were trying to save their image because she doesn’t know the father. And she–she believed this could fix them. She planned on getting back with him before she even knew she was pregnant. She’s only three months along, Andrea… I– I’m sick to my stomach.” Tears form at the corners of her eyes and she holds her own stomach. You hold her this time, rubbing her arms. You weren't sure if you were trying to soothe yourself or her. Maybe the latter.  

“Hey, hey, take it easy for her.” You join her hand on her stomach and she breathes steadier at that. You stay like this for a moment, grounding her while you float. While your heart is filled with pure rage. While you think of how upset he must be, how many irreversible changes you’ve made to your life because of this situation– this hoax– I have to see him. I have to tell him I love him, that I’ll break my lease. I’ll lose all the money I threw away to run away from him. I will be there, tell him it was never his fault. That I will never be angry with him.

“Please…” You whisper, “Please I–” You’re cut off by Lorraines audible sobs and fuck it, you’ve had enough. You let Genie go and she watches your face contort in genuine discontent. You shake your head and you begin to walk away.

“Andrea!” Genie calls for you but strut right back into the nave. Lorraine looks up at you and all you see is self pity. 

You reach down to grab your purse and you tuck it under your arm. You hold your chin up high and there are no tears.

 “You are an evil person. I spent years feeling guilty about my crush on Javier- feeling guilty because you were so kind to me to my face. But really Lorraine, you're just a mean girl. I would never wish anything bad upon you. Living the rest of your life as yourself is enough karma.” Her nostrils flare and she deserves all of this. Being left in tears at the altar. You hope to god that Javier never speaks to her again. That she repeats this day in her head forever. Without closure. You look to her parents who seem to be praying. Eyes closed, holding her shoulders. You take a step forward and slam your hand against the pew. It echoes loudly and they snap from their performance and look at you. “Pray harder, all three of you are going to hell.” 

You turn at their gasps and walk back into the atrium where your mother is sat at the stairs to the basement with a frown. Genie is still in the same spot, rubbing her stomach. You dig in your purse for your car keys. You almost forget that your entire life is packed in that thing right now.

“I’ll call you later. I have to go make sure he’s alright.” You wave to your mother and begin to walk when you hear Genie call your name. 

“He asked not to see you.” It rings around the halls of the church. Echoing, a satisfying sound to no ones ears but Lorraines. Your heart dips low.

“What?” But you aren’t sure you heard correctly. 

Genie looks at her shoes and begins to cry. “I don't know Andrea– he- he said to not let you in the house. He can't– he doesn't want to see you.” Your breathing hitches and your eyes gloss over.

“What do you mean I–”

The church doors open and your body whips around to face your brother.

He had been crying too, he looks at the car keys in your hands and back up at your tear stained face. And he knows.

“You can’t go. He– he doesn’t want to get in the way– not again.”

And fuck it, you're bawling in the middle of your childhood church. “Get in the way of what?”

“He knows you're leaving, he knows you signed the lease. He knows you got a job in New Orleans.”

Shaking your head again you try to walk past your brother but he steps in front of you again. “Frankie–please just move. I– I’m not changing my whole plan– I just need to see him.” You move your way around him and near the door when he calls out once more.

“He knows that isn’t true. He told me. He knows nena. He knows if you see him again you will never leave. He knows you’ll give up all your plans for him. He does not want to see you.”

He's speaking to the back of your head and for a moment you pause. Each word hit like slices. You, an open wound in front of everyone.

Soaking it all in. Feeling everything and nothing all at once. 

You open the church door and step back into the sunlight. Looking at the grass full of people still waiting on a wedding that was never going to happen.

Every step you take, you nearly trip, you quicken your pace once you see your packed car. Your eyes so full of hot tears you can barely stick you key properly. Cussing at yourself between tears until you can figure it out. You're not sure how long you cry in your car but you cry long enough for people to start leaving the wedding.

You lay your head on the wheel for most of it, afraid to be caught by onlookers. Your chest rips in stomach churning sobs. You know he’s right, you know you'll leave it all for him. You were ready to be nothing and no one together. Hold him until he’s had enough, until Colombia. Revert to your original plan of just… you and him and the summer. Just us. And if you did, it would hurt all just the same.

Your head hurts less.

Your eyes dry.

Your dress discarded in the passenger's seat, changed into a t-shirt and shorts.

Milk shake in your cup holder, eyes still puffy.

Chest tight but the sun sets and you think you’ll just cry more when you get there. 

You drive to New Orleans and don't look back.

[mandos-mind-trick]

The Favorite

Summary: You were Boba’s favorite. When he returns to take over Jabba’s palace, he decides he wants to keep you. You were just a dumb kid back then. Who’s to say things will be different now? 

Pairing: Boba x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, very questionable consent, manipulation, Boba is not a nice person, rough sex, manhandling, hair pulling, Boba is a sadist, rough oral sex, spanking, fingering, dacryphilia, cockwarming, orgasm denial, age difference, mentions of sex slavery, reader has been gaslit to the point of delusion.

A/N: Uhh yeah. Don't ask. This was once going to be a full story, but I've decided not to for obvious reasons as you will see in this little snippet. This is not BoBF Boba, this is closer to how I picture Boba would actually be based on literally every other iteration of his character. Boba met the reader when she was late teens/early twenties while she was "working" for Jabba. This takes place post Mando S2 and reader is older, but still not much wiser. If you need me, I will be in a church asking forgiveness for my sins.

MASTERLIST

You kneel on the bed, watching him remove his armor piece by piece. You always loved watching him do it, mesmerized by his fluid movements and the care he put into placing each piece. He steps up to you when he’s left in nothing but his flight suit, your eyes trailing up his form. 

He doesn’t look much different than you remember. A little older, more scarred than before. His hand grips your chin, tilting your face up so you’re looking him in the eye. His thumb tugs at your bottom lip, making you pout. 

“Such a sweet little thing.” He murmurs, almost to himself. “Haven’t changed one bit. I’m surprised you didn’t try and run.” 

“Didn’t have much of a chance to.” You say, which was the truth. Between the confusion of Jabba’s death and Fortuna seizing his opportunity, there wasn’t much of a chance for you to make an escape. Besides, where else would you go? 

You have nothing. 

His fingers trail down your neck to the collar, tracing his fingers over it. “I’ll get you a new one.” He hooks his finger in the loop for the chain, tugging lightly so your neck bends back. “Would you like that?” 

“Yes, Boba.” You gasp, still holding his gaze despite the uncomfortable position. 

“You can sit by my side, now.” He releases you, allowing you to straighten yourself back up. “My beautiful little jewel.” The rough pads of his fingers trace your collarbones, slipping one strap of your over your shoulder, then the other. “Make them all jealous that they can only look. Not touch.” 

There was a time you had dreamed of freedom, the ability to live a life you wanted, free to make your own decisions. You knew the reality of that happening was slim. You have nothing, no one to help you. The odds of you winding up in the same position, or something worse, is too high to risk running. 

Boba’s fingers trail along the delicate beading of your top, dipping between your breasts before rising up the other side. He tears your top from your body easily, the beads on the straps clattering across the floor. He drops his hand, reaching around you to grab a handful of your ass. “This is mine.” He says, pushing you up against his chest. “You are mine.” 

“Yes, Boba.” You whisper, face inches from his. 

“Good girl.” He chucks you under the chin before releasing you. “Turn around.” 

You do as you're told, turning onto your hands and knees. You bend your top half down, lifting your ass higher in the air. Your bottoms leave little to the imagination in this position, the wetness of your folds visible through the thin fabric. 

Boba’s hands trail up the backs of your thighs, making you shiver. His hands close around the waistband on your bottoms, tearing them off easily. Your face warms as you find yourself exposed to him, not that you haven’t been in this position before with him, and many others. 

“Beautiful.” He rasps, thumbs tugging at your lips to expose your pussy to him. “Still so beautiful.” 

You moan quietly as his fingers trace a line from your clit to your hole, gathering your wetness before he presses two thick fingers into you. You moan at the stretch, hips twitching at the sudden intrusion. 

“Still as tight as I remember.” He groans, pushing his fingers deeper into you. 

Your fingers grasp at the bed sheets as he thrusts his fingers into you, back arching to press yourself back against him. He holds his hand still, letting you fuck yourself on his fingers. 

“Such a naughty little thing.” He says, smoothing a hand over one of your ass cheeks before bringing his hand down sharply against it. You let out a whimper, stilling your hips. He presses his fingers against that spot inside you, holding them there. “Don’t forget I’m in control.” 

Your walls clamp around his fingers, fighting the urge to move your hips. “Yes, Boba!” 

He hums approvingly, continuing to fuck you with his fingers. You’re a moaning mess, the wet squelch of your pussy a rival to the sounds falling from your lips. You’re close, walls fluttering around his thick fingers. You’re going to cum and there’s no controlling it. 

“Boba!” You cry, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. You spasm around his fingers, hips jerking against his hand. 

He waits until you’ve come down from your high before jerking his fingers from your hole, delivering a sharp slap to your pussy. You yelp at the stinging pain, tears filling your eyes. 

“Did I tell you, you could cum?” He growls, hand tangling in your hair to drag you from the bed and onto your knees in front of him. 

“No, Boba.” You say, tears filling your eyes. 

“It seems you’re not as good as I thought. You’ve forgotten your manners.” He tugs on your hair, making you wince and try to lift up higher on your knees to alleviate some of the pain. 

“I’m sorry, Boba.” You cry, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I just missed you is all.” You pout, trying to worm your way out of whatever punishment he’s going to think up. 

He stares down at your tear-streaked face, his hand releasing your hair. You slump back onto your heels, scalp burning from his steel grip. “You owe me the same, then.” He says, stripping out of his flight suit. “An orgasm for the one you stole.” 

You gulp, taking in the thickness of his hard length. You had forgotten how big he is, your pussy already clenching in anticipation. You sniffle, reaching out towards him but he slaps your hand away. 

“No hands.” He says, taking hold of his dick himself. 

You stare up at him, moving your hands behind your back. You keep eye contact, your eyes still shining with tears as you move forward, opening your mouth. It’s a tight fit, your jaw protesting as you take his head into your mouth. You breathe through your nose, trying to relax as you work more and more of him inside. 

You whimper quietly as he reaches as far back as is comfortable, his hand falling to the back of your head to push you forward more. You fight the urge to gag as he nears the back of your throat, your nose meeting the skin of his pelvis. You can do this. You have done this. You’re Boba’s favorite for a reason. 

You screw your eyes closed as he pulls you back slightly, preparing to take him that deep once more. Drool is forced out around his cock, dribbling down your chin. Tears slide down your cheeks as he fucks your mouth, forcing himself nearly to the back of your throat. You choke around him, hands squeezing together behind your back. 

He pulls you off of him, letting you take in a couple desperate breaths before he’s forcing you back, controlling your movements with his hand tangled in your hair. All you can do is relax your mouth, remembering to breathe through your nose as tears and drool slide down your neck, wetting your chest. 

He pulls you off completely, releasing your head as he jerks himself, cursing in languages you can and can’t understand as he paints your chest and neck with his cum. You’re still crying, tears wetting your face.

He reaches down, wiping some of those tears with his thumb. “Such a pretty girl.” He pats your cheek none too gently with his hand. “On the bed.” 

You move off your knees, sore from the stone floor as you crawl back onto the bed. He flips you onto your back, thumb tracing over your wet folds. You hate it, you hate that your body responds to him so well. Still, after all the time he’d been thought dead, your body still wanted him. Wanted his touch. 

He strokes his half-hard cock, admiring your body with his eyes. “How I missed you, princess.” He groans, pushing your legs up to your shoulders, practically folding you in half. Your hands slip around your knees, holding yourself open for him. “Always so obedient, even when you’re being naughty.”

It’s true. There was a time when you would have taken a blaster shot for him. Not that he would have ever let you. You’re not sure why, he wasn’t much different than the other men that pawed at you and undressed you with their eyes. The few that were lucky enough to be granted the chance to use your body were just as rough, just as demanding. 

Maybe it was the way he held you afterwards, the stories he told you, the way he promised he’d buy you off Jabba one day, keep you for himself. False promises that never came true, yet you still would so easily fall into his lap. Maybe that was why you didn’t try and run. Maybe you had hoped he might walk in the door, prove everyone wrong. 

He has. Six years later than you had hoped, but he really is here, he really has freed you from Jabba and Fortuna. 

You wince as he presses his cock into you, your body fighting the intrusion. He’s so thick, even at your wettest it was an uncomfortable stretch. His hand closes around your throat, cutting off your air just enough to get your body to relax around him. He continues pressing into you, thrusting his hips shallowly to move inch by inch into your tight passage. 

Tears gather in your eyes once more, hands gripping the sheets as he releases your throat, letting you inhale deeply. You whine once he’s fully inside, stretched full and tight. You stare up at his face, tears threatening to fall once more. 

“Are you going to cry for me?” He asks, gripping your jaw in his hand. He pulls his hips back before slamming them into yours. “Or do I have to hurt you again?” 

You shake your head, the tears starting to fall at the prospect of him hurting you. His cock twitches inside you as you cry, one of your hands lifting to his. You manage to get him to let go of your face, lacing your fingers together. 

You continue to cry as he fucks you, moans being broken by sobs as you think of every emotion you can, afraid of him hurting you again. He grunts and groans, eyes focused on your face as he thrusts in and out of you, dragging his thick cock along your walls. You won’t cum, you won’t dare cum until he allows you, not wanting another punishment.

His eyes are intense, lips parting in a moan as he cums, stuffing you full. You moan at the feeling, walls fluttering around him but you won’t cum. Not yet. He pulls himself from your pussy, maneuvering you up the bed until your head is on the pillows. He slips in behind you, stuffing his cock back into your pussy, pushing his dripping seed back inside. 

“I’m going to keep my cock here all night.” He growls in your ear, caging your body against his chest. “If you’re a good girl and can hold it that long, I’ll let you cum in the morning, understand?” 

“Yes, Boba.” You say quietly, tears still slipping down your cheeks. 

You’ll do anything for him. 

You’re his favorite for a reason.  

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @annoyinglylegendarygoose

[everywishway]

Kalina Playlist Deep-dive

Kinda wanted to do a playlist deep-dive about all my Fantasy High playlists. If you want any more, I have playlists for all the Bad Kids, both Voxes, and I'm working on a Cassandra Playlist. Starting off with my baby girl, Kalina

ALICE:

I picture this as Kalina describing the fall of the Unnamed Goddess into the Nightmare King. A goddess of dreaming and doubt till she lost her mind, and her persona. Turned her forest into this idealization of what the Nightmare King represents.

Queen

Kalina's persona is this person manipulating everything in the background and several steps ahead of everyone. Also how the Bad Kids originally assumed she stole the crown to control the Nightmare King and be in power.

GRRRLS

Kalina's ideology is about taking control to bring back the Nightmare King by any means necessary. Not wanting people to look too closely into her.

&

It's like how Kalina always gives options when speaking to the Bad Kids, especially Riz. Also how each option and the tone get more threatening overtime. Also "They took a lesson from their fathers" connects to Riz and how she killed Pok.

The Mind Electric

I honestly don't remember why I added this? Vibes? Maybe it's another example of her trying to control Riz and the Bad Kids, taunting them and making them face their fears? Yeah, that's it, why not?

Achilles Come Down

Goes against my Kristen Playlist which has this same song. This is Kalina and Kristen deciding what Cassandra is going to be in FHSY. Kalina is the deeper voice and Kristen is the kinder one.

Church

Kalina's loyalty to Cassandra and more religious imagery for her connection to Cassandra. Plus the line "Time capsule for the future, trust me that is what I'll be" is how she lives on for the Unnamed Goddess as the plague for her to live. Also "Oh the things that you do in the name of what you love, you were doomed but just enough" is her talking about how her goddess was doomed by her followers, the people who loved her. Also, the second section of the song says "Got a few more fake friends" showing her connections over the years she keeps at arm's distance like Pok Gukgak.

Child of Ashes

I picture this as Kalina singing to the Bad Kids, willing to show them mercy as long as they back off this case.

Hawk in the Night

I see this as her talking to Riz because she is still close to him. She's his godmother, she wants to see him grow strong but it's not the best advice.

You Stabbed Me in My Sleep

My Love is Sick

Kalina is literally a plague, what can I say? Just kidding, it's that and all the religious imagery. The loyalty to the person is like Kalina's loyalty to Cassandra in all her forms. Plus I love Madds Buckley so much. <3

Ghost

Kalina's abilities appear and disappear, along with taunting the Bad Kids and messing with them on their journey. Her confidence, knowing they hate her and why right before the bridge. Plus during the Bridge where the artist says "Why don't you just leave me alone" I see Riz and other Bad Kids begging her to stop with this, stop messing with them.

It Took Me By Suprise

Her being is surprised that the BKs didn't back off, especially Riz after taunting him and seeing the anger in their eyes... thats it...

That Unwanted Animal

How I picture Kalina sees herself. She cares for Cassandra in every form and tries her best to take care of her. When the "Unnamed Goddess" sacrifices herself to be the Nightmare King, Kalina becomes the "Unwanted Animal".

Little Big Boy

Specifically for Fabian, when she makes him stab the Hangman and jump into the ocean.

Take Me To Church

Another song with religious notes to show her dedication to Cassandra and illness notes for her being a literal plague Sophomore Year.

the fruits

Another song with religious notes that I added for the vibes. Also, her being used to keep alive a goddess.

Allies or Enemies

Picked to show her relationship with the Bad Kids now in the present time. Also her new relationship with Cassandra as this new form.

Until It Doesn't Hurt

The pain of her being a plague and vibes.

If I Kill Someone For You

Another song is about Kalina sacrificing herself, and her identity to keep her Goddess alive, to bring her back. Sacrificing her livelihood, and her well-being to bring back the Nightmare King.

Everybody Wants To Rule The World

Final boss music and the end describes the battlefield of "Spring Break I Believe in You" where there is no light coming through the forest, the stairs and ruins where the battle is old and decrepit. "When they do I'll be right beside you, so glad we almost made it" is her speaking to herself/the Nightmare King as she brings them back to life.

Panic Room

Another song about the Nightmare King's Forest and how Kalina and the Nightmare King shaped the forest to have the deepest fears of the Bad Kids.

That's it! I hope yall had fun listening to me explain my thought process <3

[tehamelie]

Various fine opinions on the meaning of life contained in Monty Python's The Meaning of Life:

*Unionize your workplace, alternatively turn it into a pirate ship and take to the high seas. It'll piss off management either way.

*Question everything.

*Look at what you think you know from a different perspective.

*The pursuit of profit at all costs can and will ruin the meaning of any work and also make you worse at it.

*Gender roles are not necessarily assigned at birth.

*The Catholic church is not well.

"God has blessed us so much I can't afford to feed you all any longer."

*Just because you're allowed doesn't mean you should.

*You should not, and will not, die to "keep China British."

*God has many ways to cook you to death, if He wants to.

*Straight sex is so damn boring.

*Don't just stampede towards the clitoris, Watson.

*Sport, like sex, only works between equal parties. Any other way and you invite horror and depravity. (That kid is definitely dead and the upperclassmen are just stomping on him anyway.)

*Actually, getting murdered playing rugby against adults two or three times your size is an excellent way to prepare you for fighting in a war.

*Even a good captain will be hated by their subordinates. This is the burden of command.

"We'll always need an army, and may God strike me down were it to be otherwise." *is immediately struck down by literal the hand of God*

*A fighting force is better served by a single soldier who actually wants to be there than twenty men who doesn't.

*There's a fine line between keeping one's cool in a heated situation and acting like you're on a bloody different planet when people are dying in front of you.

There are less than 4500 wild tigers left in the world. The "A tiger? In Africa?!" bit is less of a joke every year.

*In less than surprising news, killing people is bad for you. (It turns out, for psychologically healthy people, doing violence really hurts you as much as the victim.)

*Where is that fish?

*Theme restaurants could do with a bit of randomly mixed themes.

*Don't be afraid to ask the most idiotic questions about things you don't understand. That's how we learn.

*Oh ho it's the meaning of liver donation I get it now.

*The Galaxy Song is fun and all but don't give in to misanthropy.

*Matter is energy, the human soul grows with care and attention, and people aren't wearing enough hats.

*Actually, the movie makes a staggering point here and buries it with distracting nonsense jokes, while also making the point that we get sidetracked from self-actualization by distracting nonsense jokes. It's a point sandwich with joke filling.

Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis? Shout out to happy penis havers, though I'm not one myself.

*M Creosote shows us that single-minded devotion to one's mission in life (eating an entire upscale French restaurant in one sitting, for example) will leave you unhappy and alone.

*Dunk antisemites in buckets of vomit.

*Gaston, the middle aged waiter, delivers a coherent personal philosophy as he walks us to the cottage where he was born. The significance of this cannot be overestimated. He decided to be a waiter, you see. Because he believes in something. It's a simple belief of giving, of loving people and bringing them joy. But be believes it with all his heart and he'll fight for the right to live the life he chose.

*If you have to die, but can choose the manner of your execution, try being hounded to death by naked women.

*See the world in a grain of sand, or a maple leaf as it were.

*Terry Pratchett was a great man and a great writer, but he's wrong about one thing: Death is relative. No, no, you can't argue away Death or shoot him, but he is subject to the laws of relativity. Consider the stars in the sky; at least one star that's visible to the naked eye I hear may be dead right now - it's 500 light years away and they think it may go supernova at any point within 500 years from now. But here, locally, the star still lives; there's no possible reality where it's gone until the light of its explosion reaches us.

*Heaven is a fantastically cheesy musical theater performance with angel santa claus strippers and a lead singer you just want to punch. Clearly we need to build something better here on Earth.

*Be nice, read books, take a walk sometimes, and try to live together in peace and harmony with people of all creeds and nations. Obviously.

*[The producers] hope that other fish will follow [the example of the movie] so that, in future, fish all over the world will live together in harmony and understanding, and put aside their petty differences, stop hunting and eating each other and live for a brighter, better future for all fish and those who love them. Yes, clearly this is about fish.