#he takes 100% of my brain power when he says big words

[cigarette-scented-hotel-rooms]

just our boy being our boy

[zeevawyte]

Ok so, this is so far outside my usual stuff it’s insane, but this literally won't leave my brain and I don't know if I have time to write it so-

RadioApple fic idea under the cut:

TW: blood, mentions of cannibalism (it's Alastor, duh), semi-unsafe dom/sub (no actual sex), sub drops

Starts out your normal "stop interfering with my relationship with my daughter & you can have a snack whenever you want" kinda deal, with Alastor taking full advantage of the fact that he's got the most powerful being in hell at his mercy. Dude has a serious power trip the first time, & between that and the taste is hooked immediately.

And of course Luci isn't exactly complaining. Other than the occasional jumpscare via shadow, it hasn't been too bad. Kind of enjoyable actually, not that he'd ever admit that to the demon's face. And it's not like he hasn't been tied up or held down before either.

But then during one of their ‘meetings’ he ends up going into sub space on accident… and it keeps happening.

This wouldn't be a problem except Alastor (for obvious reasons) has literally zero information/knowledge about that sort of thing. And, being the dramatic asshole that he is, enjoys getting the last word and leaving without a backwards glance. Which means he's not there when Luci drops.

Hard.

But it's fine! He's fine! He's the King of Hell, he doesn't need some sinner to help him deal with the consequences of an arrangement he proposed in the first place. He's totally fine on his own.

Except he's not.

He is very much not fine, and it starts to show. It gets so bad that one day Charlie actually asks him if he’s ok mid-conversation.

Enter Angel Dust.

Now, by this point Angel’s like 98% sure the two powerhouses are going at it. Alastor has been in a good mood for months now (coinciding suspiciously with the two of them not being at each other’s throats all the time - at least in public) & he’s seen Luci coming out of a room straightening his coat and hat on one of the upper floors. Not to mention the down-right flirty undertones to any barbs they shoot back and forth.

Husk agrees that something is going on but heavily doubts it’s what Angel thinks.

Determined to prove that he’s right, Angel starts wandering the upper floors or heading up just as Alastor heads down (subtly, he’s not an idiot). Anyway, he’s up there one day being nosy when he hears a crash from one of the rooms. He goes in only to find Lucifer on the floor, having tripped over a side table and knocked over a lamp, disheveled and absolutely shaking.

He recognizes what’s happening almost immediately (fuck you very much Val) and gathers the little king up onto the couch, helping him calm down until he doesn’t look like he’s going to either spontaneously start sobbing or throw up on the rug.

Luci is understandably embarrassed and tries to offer him a favor for his help, but Angel waves him off saying he’s been there & that Luci doesn’t owe him anything.

The next day when Lucifer is off doing something else, Angel grabs Alastor and all but drags him into a side room.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you and short king, and frankly it’s none’a my business-”

“No, it isn’t. And if that really is all you wanted to speak with me about-”

“Shut up! I’m not jokin’ alright? I’m bein’ 100% serious. You’re fucking up big time, and I’m pretty sure you don’t even know it. So if you don’t want this whole thing to end in a big fuckin’ mess you need to listen to me.”

Cue a hilariously awkward conversation where an unusually serious Angel explains dom/sub dynamics and the effects/consequences therein to an incredibly-uncomfortable-but-desperately-not-showing-it Alastor.

It ends with something along the lines of

"And look, I don't know if you actually care about the guy or if it’s just about gettin’ your kicks, but honestly? It doesn't matter. You've got your whole gentleman thing right? Openin' doors for the ladies and shit?" *pokes him in the chest* "Well as a gentleman, you've dropped the fuckin' ball. Only self-centered dicks leave their sub to drop alone."

Now if there’s one thing Alastor will not abide, it’s a loss of manners. Being told he’s been unknowingly committing a social faux pas gets under his skin immediately. It itches at him. To the point that his smile almost slips. More than once.

He needs to fix it. As soon as possible.

He’s visibly twitchy the rest of the day.

Husk corners Angel to ask what the hell he said to Al, but only gets a vague, noncommittal answer about letting him know about some information he was missing.

And the next time he and Lucifer have a ‘meeting,’ Alastor stays.

[flowery-laser-blasts]

What’s your theory on why Shego specified no cloning in her contract. Like on one hand it’s basic sense and on the other hand you have to wonder what could have happened to make it something she needs in writing.

OH I'VE BEEN WANTING TO TACKLE THIS ONE FOR A WHILE NOW BUT I KEPT ON FORGETTING TO WRITE IT DOWN! HERE GOES!

Shego's zero tollerance to cloning has to do with 2 factors:

1. Individuality (I'm not sure if I'm using the right word here but bare with me for now, I still got a cold and my brain power is at a low) 2. The Wegos 1. Individuality / who's the original? Looking at the Mauler Twins from the tv show Invincible as an example, it's very easy to see why Shego does NOT want to be cloned. It's very difficult to convince an identical clone that they're a clone; you share memories, physical attributes, character, etc. It's literally duplicating another being. She's head strong. Let's say that memories don't apply but character or ego, remains, that way Shego's clone would STILL keep her foot down pledging that she's the original even if gaps are missing "It's a stupid side effect of that stupid cloning machine of Dr. D!" could be an explanation the clone would give. Shego has a very dominant and strong personality so she would brush that off. Even in the SiT:Past episode. When Shego meets her future self, she dismisses the Supreme One as a 'clone' at first glance and doesn't even bother to listen to her right away. Only after a few minutes Shego comes around and follows the Supreme One's instructions: Shego doesn't want to listen to her future self because from her point of view; She (The Supreme one) is not her (Shego) and thus lesser in opinion. Having that said, if you put a few Shego clones in one room, you'd get an all on fight. She can dish out snarky remarks but hates receiving critique; and as one knows, you're your own worst critic. "Uhm... Obviously, you're the clone. I mean, look at your hair." "What? What's wrong with my hair?" "It's obviously synthetic" "Oh I show you synthetic! When I smear your cakey make up all over the floor!" Chaos would errupt and there might be a big chance that all the clones at one point might turn against Drakken for creating this mess in the first place; because all of them would agree that this wouldn't have happened if Drakken just respected the NO CLONING clause! But I hear you thinking: "That doesn't matter because Drakken wanted to improve the (Kim) clones, remember? He said "My Kim clone will be engineered with the lightning fast reflexes of a king cobra…the invincible strength of a rogue elephant… and that killer instinct of… Commodore Puddles" so character or memories wouldn't play a part in it. Shego's clone would be obedient and a killing machine!" YOU'RE WRONG; THIS AN EVEN BIGGER INSULT TO INJURY. IMAGINE YOUR BOYFRI-- BOSS TELLING YOU: "Yeah I want to make a copy of you but it has no mind of it's own and it is way stronger and more powerful than you could be to take down a teenager. Oh, while I'm at it; a lot of yous! That way I have an army." Uhm, HELLO? That's just asking to be beaten up! NO one is better than the original!

2. The Wegos The Wegos have no cloning power but duplication. They can cause a lot of trouble within a short amount of time. I imagine that sometimes the Wegos used their powers to cause mischief; Use their duplications to get out of superhero meetings or bedtime. I have not yet 100% figured out whether the Wego duplications are controlled by a hivemind of the original or if they can act individually upon creation. Again, looking at for example Duplikate from Invincible or Splinter from The Boys they both are superheroes that seem to be sharing a hivemind with the original. If the original is destroyed so are the duplicates. I also have a headcanon (but not entirely worked out and it might stray from the canon) that the Wegos are actually 1 person. Being the youngest, he used his duplication power to keep up a permanent twin so he wouldn't be lonely and overseen by his older siblings. But going back to it: There could be a chance that in her hero days, Shego has seen Wegos injured and may have had some troubles being unable to find the original ones (only finding out after the duplicates disappeared). It is one thing to see your little brother hurt, let alone a whole legion of little brothers. It might've been a scary sight to maybe also see her 'brother' get killed multiple times, even if it was just a dobbleganger.

So that's my take on the whole no cloning thing. :) Hope this answers your question!

[mcbeetlebeeb]

yo more john stuff would be sick if you may (pls and thx :>)

oh jeez oh man oh snap-

yeah I can do that for you, congrats on being the first person too use my ask box thing 🎉

anywho, I can't guarantee this will be proofread until like- maybe tommorow when I read threw it but uyhhmmbb.. yeah general headcannon??- stuff?

John Egbert

unfortunately a bit emotionally constipated

not a great big deal (maybe a bit of a lot)

but on contrary, I don't think he'd be someone to be very beat around the bush with those sorta feelings

at least physically? like, body language wise-

he'd be comfortable around you, you'd probably have him hanging around on you while he's floating around

godtiered John?

floating you everywhere

your godtiered?

don't care, he's lifting you effortlessly with his wind powers

but I think hed try to be pretty forward about his feelings

or at least he thinks he is-

touch starved™

like how I mentioned he'd be comfortable with you in a physical matter

not minding pda too much but much more affectionate in private

he'd be the type of person for you too fall asleep on his shoulder, and he'd let you 100%, maybe even lay his head on yours in return

I think hed be someone who's a bit easy to read if you can do eye contact

like I'd pitcure if one were to flirt with him, it'd go over his head a bit at first, not that he wouldn't ever get it

he would get it like, 5 minutes afterwards and then he can't bring it back up it cause 5 minutes has passed and oh god that was so obvious how did he not get that—

but back with the eye contact thing, I'd be easy to pick up on

easy to spot a mischievous or playful glint in his eye, it'd usally be paired with a grin

he'd be one too steal longing looks at you when your not paying attention

just letting internal monolog play out in his brain as he stares at you doing whatever

subconsciously messing with his fingers or the hem of his shirt

he'd pretend he's not looking when you look back at him, and or that he's wasnt just thinking of the most "silliest" of thoughts

he'd be good at hugs

or good at giving hugs?

good and secure, rests his head on your shoulder, his arms under yours too hug around your waist simply cause he wants you as close as possible

(he's totally not sniffing you)

I think hed be a giggly mfker if you catch my drift

one of you made a bad joke? he's laughing at it

you tripped and aren't seriously hurt?

laughing at you as he helps you up

very much a sweetheart though

even though I think he would be a bit- dense?- wrong word

stubborn- but not nessasarly in the way you think, he's set in certain ways, varying things stuck with him throughout sburb events (obviously‐)

but he'd still be a lil goober at heart yknow

not too much prying for it to takes to make him be a goober comfortably in your presence

like in the other post- his goofy energy is just gonna go right too you

just something about him makes one just- exist in the moment, although he mostly exists up in his head-

-i think he'd focus mostly on whoevers in front of him, their voice, what they're saying

amplified if he likes you, he's listening so intently

maybe a little too intently where he gets caught up in his thoughts, it's starts off of what he wants to say to respond,

focusing in on your voice and his mind trails off with how nice you sound, taking in the fact that your voice belongs too you

no one else, he's listening to no one else but you right now,

you'd be mid sentence and notice how hard he's staring at you, hell you could've been done with the sentence a minute ago and he'd still be up in his brain

asking what is wrong and he'd only respond with blinking his eyes at you, focusing in on your face rather your voice finding himself caught red handed

"uh- sorry— I was spacing out-"

spacing out my ass, he's thinking about how he wants to be closer, hear your voice at its most hushed

wanting to rest his head on your chest, listening to the sound of your breathing, the steady thump of your heart beneath his head

whenever he hugs you he wants it to be extra long, burying his head in the crook of your neck like he hasn't seen you in forever

he wants you, to hear you, he want you too want him like he wants you

I stop here I tired 3 in morning! 🛌💤

[mmhcs]

Sun Comes Out Again

Miles Morales x PTSD!Reader

Foreword: I know that everyone’s experience is different but these are just my headcannons of how I think 1610!Miles would handle a partner with trauma

Warnings: Mentions of PTSD (uncomfortable feelings, mood swings, unhealthy coping mechanisms, etc.)

When (and if) you tell him, Miles, while shocked, tries not to let that be the only emotion he conveys in the moment. He tries his best to listen, letting you explain the situation, your feelings, etc.

To be really honest, he's just been under the impression that you're anxious (like him) about making sure the relationship is going well and that the other feels loved and appreciated.

Miles knows a lot about mental health, but he also doesn't really know a lot about mental health. Like, don't get me wrong, he's most definitely an emotionally intelligent guy and he's the number one advocate for mental health, especially that of his fellow Black boys. But when it comes to learning about the specifics of how to deal with triggers and flashbacks...He's still some ways to go. But, despite not knowing everything, Miles tries his best.

Despite him having Spider-sense, Miles is not a mind-reader. (I mean, have you seen the movies? He's emotionally intelligent but you have to remember that his brain mainly thinks when necessary). He notices your shifts in mood, yes, but you have to communicate with him. If you tell him what you want or need, he'll try his best to give it to you.

^You need reassurance? He'll make it a point to start slipping in more compliments and reminders that he's so thankful and grateful to have you in his life. You feel anxious and like the world is too big? Depends. If you want company, he'll sit with you, put something on and just sit with you. No words need to be exchanged. However, if you want to be alone? That's cool, too. He'll probably send a text or two (the first just saying that he hopes you're okay and that you'll get through this, the latter being a good night text where he emphasizes the same thing).

For my readers that tend to isolate themselves: he's okay with you needing your space. But Miles knows that difference between when you're not at 100% and need some time and when you're purposefully isolating yourself as a punishment, self-harm, because you feel unloveable, etc.

^If you tend to isolate yourself, Miles won't force you to do anything that feels uncomfortable or too much for you. If anything, he'll simply come over (or invite you over to his place) and go about his business while you do your thing. If you're up for doing anything, however, then you best believe that he's making plans, getting ready, texting his parents, saying that he might not be home for dinner...No matter the circumstance, he just wants you to know that you're worthy of love and shouldn't have to go through what you're going through alone.

Miles tries his best not to take anything personally. Like, if you two are cuddling and suddenly you don't want to be touched anymore or it all feels like too much and you want to be alone, it's not biggie to him. He'll find other things to do (draw, bake, annoy his parents and/or friends at the Spider Society).

Miles hates seeing you depressed. When he sees you like that, he feels sad (he's a Certified Empath, okay?). He wants to make you feel better and take away all your sadness but he knows that it doesn't work like that. So, he does the next best thing and helps you power through it.

^Asks if you've taken your medication, does regular checkups to see how you're doing, encourages you to go out, do your hair, dress up, be happy or, alternatively, encourages you to cry, wallow, be angry, take a break. He's very big on feeling what you're feeling and letting it out.

^^ Supports you on your healing journey. If you decide to go on medication, he's cheering you on, sitting beside you as you weigh the pros and cons, giving you advice and suggestions. If you (also) go to therapy, he's sure not to schedule dates that interfere with appointment times, reminds you of your upcoming appointments (I would say who needs a calendar when you have Miles but he probably uses the calendar to remember your appointments, too), and always, always, always asks you how you feel after each appointment.

^^^"Do...Do you feel like that [therapist/psychiatrist/psychologist] hears you? Because, you know, it's okay if you don't; we can always find a new person for you!"

After hearing and listening to you, Miles starts to think that he, too, may have PTSD. And, I mean, he probably does. Did y'all see how that boy became Spiderman? I don't think an adult could handle all that and my good sir was how old at the time? Fourteen? Fifteen?

Miles would be hesitant to talk about it at first (whether or not you know that he's Spiderman) because he doesn't want to feel like he's "piggybacking" off of you and also is he really traumatized or just overreacting?

He'd eventually tell you, though. If you know that he's Spiderman, he tells you the story of how it happened and if you don't know then he focuses more on the part about losing Uncle Aaron and how things have seemingly been constantly changing and stressful since then.

With your help, he would formulate a plan to talk to Rio and Jeff (or should I say Mr. and Mrs. Morales? Rio, please don't hit me) about starting therapy.

When he finally does tell them, Miles is scared out of his mind. Like, he's having an about-to-faint anxiety attack during the whole conversation. And what makes it even worse is that instead of giving an immediate response, his parents tell him that they're going to "talk it over" with each other.

^^During the first second that she and her husband are alone, Rio is advocating for Miles to go to therapy. Jeff agrees and has no problem with it, but Rio closes the door and says something like, "Start researching counselors," like they just didn't tell Miles that they were going to talk it over.

Rio knows her son and she's noticed the shift in his behavior ever since he's started attending Brooklyn Visions. She doesn't know if it's the school itself or something else going on behind the scenes and sometimes it drives her crazy at night. It hurts a little that her little man doesn't want to tell her but make no mistake, that's still her baby and she'll do anything for him and his happiness. So, if he wants to try therapy, then best believe, she'll be all around the hospital, asking for recommendations.

Miles is a nervous wreck before his first therapy session. He's hyperventilating, scared, rethinking everything. But once you (and his parents) come in to calm him down and remind him that this isn't weakness; it's a bold and brave decision that he made, he starts to calm down.

Y'all share coping mechanisms that you learn in therapy. Y'all make a commitment to learn more about each other's triggers and how you can best help each other through your rough times. Y'all regularly remind each other that you are not broken, not damaged, and worthy of all the love in the world.

You two most definitely have a secret spot that y'all go to when one or both of y'all are not feeling it.

Overall, Miles loves you and through your love, he has learned about himself and is happier and healthier than ever.

Bonus: Imagine Miles as Spiderman, screaming from a rooftop, "Mental Health Is Important!"

I had fun with this one.

To anyone struggling right now: Keep going, you're doing amazing. You are so loved and I'm proud of you for deciding to embark on this journey. It may not feel like you're making progress or like you don't know what you're doing but you'd be surprised how much of healing is throwing stuff at the wall and seeing what sticks.

And to anyone currently going through it: It will be okay. I'm so darn proud of you for persevering and remember, when you sink to the bottom, the only way left to go is upwards. You're so loved.

If you need someone to talk to or just want to chat, you can always send a message!

[jeniffercheck]

How about a Love confession with a bit of angst?

-prompt-

my fingers slipped and this turned into a little one-shot, thank u for the prompt & enjoy!! also on ao3<3

It’s four in the morning and Shiv is in Karolina’s kitchen.

It’s smaller than her own, more lived in, and less sterile, and Shiv finds it bizarre that she and Karolina have become something entangled. In some ways, they’re the same. Wealthy, assertive women who seek power and prestige only to receive pushback and shame. In most ways, they’re different. Karolina is ice, but Shiv is fire. Karolina understands limits, and Shiv doesn’t know when enough is enough. Karolina is good, Shiv believes that, that Karolina is genuinely good, and Shiv is just bad.

It’s a back and forth, not unlike anything else in Shiv’s life but it couldn’t be more unique. It’s structured and clear. Karolina keeps Shiv where she wants her, and Shiv does everything she can to break out. Karolina doesn’t play the same games that everyone else in Shiv’s life does. She’s careful and calculated, sure, but she’s honest. She takes what she wants and she rejects what she doesn’t.

Which is maybe why it hurts when Karolina says the words.

“I don’t know why you haven’t just signed the papers yet.”

She’s wiping down her counter as she says so, too late to make coffee and too tired for wine. For some reason, the next logical step in her brain is Clorox. Clorox, and the belief that Shiv should just throw the towel in and get the divorce. Just sign the papers.

“That’s easy to say when it’s not you who has to sign them,” Shiv says.

Her eyes are still puffy. The tailgate ended and she felt so sick to her stomach that she didn’t know what else to do, where else to go. She certainly wasn’t going to sleep in the same fucking apartment as Tom. Not with those words still lingering, muddying up the air with their ferocity and viciousness. Their honesty.

Karolina hasn’t asked what exactly happened yet. Shiv thinks she can tell, what with the unusual crying and the fact that Shiv’s wedding band is currently being toyed with in her hand like a pair of Craps die that she’s getting ready to throw, always with a 100% chance of snake eyes.

“Maybe when Mencken wins, they’ll outlaw divorce and you’ll never have to make that choice,” Karolina says. “Become a slave to Tom forever, transfer your bank account to his. Do you think you’ll have to get his permission to sign off on a check?”

Shiv thinks it should make her laugh, and Karolina has a stupid smile on her face that really makes her want to, but the attempt at comfort only makes her feel worse. The fact that she’s sitting here, just told that she’s incapable of love and that she’ll never be a good mother, and Karolina’s just awake, wiping off her counter with bleach and a paper towel while trying to make her smile at four in the morning because that’s what Shiv needed her to do.

She doesn’t know where to draw the lines because a part of her still thinks that Tom would do the same. That if she went home right now and got on her knees and bore her soul to him that he’d take it back and he’d forgive her. That he’d believe her even though he never should have in the first place.

How do you choose between two people who you think would both give you the world if you let them?

“Do you think I’m capable of love?” Shiv suddenly asks, looking at Karolina. She searches Karolina’s eyes for her instinctual reaction, the sign that she wants to say no but is going to say yes, just because she thinks she should tell Shiv whatever it is that she wants to hear, but Karolina’s eyebrows just twitch and her joking smile falls, and she cocks her head with a great, big sigh. Shiv suddenly feels dumb for asking at all. She knows what the answer is. At least, what it should be.

“I think you’re more capable than you’d like to admit,” Karolina says, which, makes Shiv pause because it’s really not the answer she was expecting to hear. Or maybe even the one she wanted to hear, if she’s being honest. She looks away, unable to stand the intensity of Karolina’s gaze. She thinks back to what Marcia had said to her, now seemingly so long ago.

He made you a playground, and you think it’s a whole world.

But how can it not be the whole world when it all feels like this? When love and death and birth are constantly gripping at her and pulling at the seams from every angle. If she isn’t at the center of the whole world then why does it always feel so grave? Like every step she takes and every choice she makes creates quakes that follow her until everything just topples, crushing her in the aftermath.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she admits. “Why I can’t just feel it like everyone else.”

“You do feel it, though. Don’t you?” Karolina says, eyes suddenly sad. “I don’t think you’d care this much if you didn’t.”

Which makes Shiv feel overcome because it’s the first time anyone’s acknowledged her feelings as caring. Because Karolina is right, Shiv cares so much, maybe too much at times. She cares so much that it’s easier to pretend that she doesn’t, because if anyone knew how desperate she was for the things she wants they’d use it against her and then she’d have nothing and no one and there wouldn’t be a single thing she could do about it. If she keeps everything at arm’s length, then they can never get too close to be pushed away. If everyone is mad at her then that means they’re not indifferent towards her. It’s survival.

“I don’t want to only hurt people,” Shiv admits, tears returning, but she thinks about what she really means. Maybe she can’t fix things with Tom, but maybe she doesn’t have to ruin things with Karolina before they’ve even really started. “I don’t want to hurt you like I hurt him.”

Karolina moves around the counter towards Shiv and hugs her from behind. Shiv grabs onto Karolina’s arms like she doesn’t think she ever has before, wondering if she can just memorize how it feels to have her close so that she won’t fuck it up again. That she’ll choose not to push her away.

“Then don’t,” Karolina says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. She pulls Shiv tighter, and Shiv leans into it. She wants this. She really thinks she does.

“I—I think I could let myself love you,” Shiv says, voice shaking. “I don’t know. I’d like to try.”

She waits painstakingly for Karolina’s response, every millisecond feeling like the pit in her stomach is getting wider and wider. She closes her eyes as Karolina kisses the top of her head, voice soft in her ear.

“I think I could let myself love you, too.”

[minty-playhouse]

Alright, I promised a post with my favorite John + Roger photos and I'm a creature of my word (mostly)!

So sit back and let me take you on a journey through Daltwistle hyperfixation hah!

I'll try not to say anting too overtly nsfw about them, but I can't guarantee this post won't be suggestive free, so be advised!

This is one of the OG photos that I like! I dunno what it is about it, I just like the very casual energy it evokes. And I'm also a big sucker for John wearing big coats so that's a huge bonus! But be careful of charming guys that make you laugh, girls 👀

SLEAZY! LEWD!!! I dunno what is it about this photo that wakes something really feral and primal in me lol Maybe it's because the photo is super grainy so it makes everything look far "dirtier" than it really is. Also their faces, specially John's, makes me think that they know something we don't (aka the fact they are 100% banging when they're finally alone). But yeah they're dirty and disgusting and I love this photo too much.

=consumes this photo= Where do I even begin? Roger is so Girl and John is so cool. I love Roger’s looks during the mod era, he's so soft and dainty. And this photo is a perfect example of that. Metal sheet worker my butt, he's a princess. And John is just the type of bad boy his type craves (but refuses to accept fufufu)

Uuuuuuugh this gives me the same feral vibes of that other one, BUT the difference in that this one REALLY emphasises their size difference like John is just so fucking big and thick, the size of his hips is insane. And that makes me think very evil thoughts when I think about Roger's short legs and how they can barely wrap around it fully 👀💦

All their mid 70's photos scream SEX but this one is ugh, it makes my brain go "brrrrrr" real good, like why is he just lying there next to John, and they're clearly in a house but whose house is this?? I dunno but I think the moment the photographers walk away John needs to get on top of Roger and kiss him good ❤️

THEM THEM THEM The toxic couple itself! I dunno why is it that my brain has very bad thoughts about these two specifically, and it's this photo that's on my brain whenever I think about the more, hm, "controversial" mod era ship thoughts for them. Also I know Roger is even shorter due to the photos perspective but, insane height dif. Gotta love it!

So hello this is the MOST POWERFUL DALTWISTLE IMAGE EVER?? I know this is cheating a bit because these are separate photos but it doesn't change the fact these were side by side on the getty image site, and that they're from the Tara photoshoot, AND that this feels like they are seeing each other from opposite sides of the backyard, with John spotting Roger as he smiles, not only for the photo but at him. And by God, Roger is just so gorgeous, he's hoping this photoshoot ends soon~

And this is it guys, a journey through thick and thin! Hope you guys enjoyed these crazy ramblings!

[princeresnikov]

a creature that will do what i say (or love me back) {The Son}

{ its in my nature masterlist }

Summary: Flashback to 2011, and the first year of Clementine working as The Son's live-in bodyguard. It's simply a nice moment on a snowy, Winter evening where Clementine's cooking them both dinner, and he decides, for once, that he'd prefer to stay in for the night.

Or; The Son loves Clementine through Rose Coloured Glasses.

A/N: 2559 words. Clementine's nickname for The Son at the end of the fic is a reference to my headcanon that The Son's first name is Anatoly, which means sunrise, anyways,,,, this evidentially got out of hand, definitely didn't realise it would end up this long. but anyways, this is all from The Son's POV so (and this will be reiterated in the warning) the story appears to romanticise his relationship with her despite how it's clearly unhealthy. i wanna go on record since i don't think it's ever made 100% clear either here or in the main fic, but The Son never really loved Clementine as a person, and if there was any part of her he was 'in love with' it was simply the idea of who he wanted her to be that he'd created in his mind. also remember how i once said there was a bit of freudian fuckery with his early attraction to clementine because how he associates her with his dad. yeah there's hints of that. :l fuck that dude. i can't stop thinking about him. Tagging the taglist because it is part of canon. I'd love to hear any thoughts you guys have on this!! long note whoops.

Warnings: romanticisation of unhealthy relationship dynamics, clear power imbalance, dehumanisation and objectification of Clementine, The Son clearly has a saviour complex regarding Clementine, mentions/implications of murder & violence.

Taglist: @venusthepirate @malar-region @tangerinesgf @esmaada @sarcastic-sourwolf @djjskfkskjf @justshutupmars @somikesoc @chachadelight @andydre4m @evangelineflowers @darkchai @basementsoup @bellatrix124 @kunikidaswhore @thewinterschildren178 @felhomaly @perksofbeingamultifandomm @aniglio18 @geeiz @mimidior @justicex101 @ltlthetrifecta @salsasadd @gregorybrldgerton @xkawax @hellsgatelove22 @brownficgirl @tangerineswife @cigarettesandfigureskates @ceciliahargrove @welcometothescreaming20s @moonlight-matcha @lovv24 @nohemi2500 @tangerinefics @charlemagnethesecond @little-miss-bi @megplant

His Clementine is different in Winter, The Son realises. Or maybe it's the snow. She doesn't say she doesn't like the snow, but she makes a point of trying to only go out during the day if she has any say in it, and outright refuses to catch any kind of night train when it's snowing, even if it's the subway and the snow isn't even visible. Not that they catch the subway a lot, or the tube since they're currently in the London penthouse he chose to practically hibernate in this year.

Tonight weather prevents them from a picturesque sunset, and it's a Friday night, he should, by all accounts, be half a bottle into something expensive that he knows he doesn't really appreciate like he should, contemplating if he can be bothered looking for his own eyeliner or simply borrowing Clementine's, and messaging back the host of fairweather clubbing friends he has in this city. Clementine had even asked him if they were going out that night, and usually he would have said yes without hesitation, but he hadn't expected to see her like this and his brain short-circuits for a moment.

It's such a small moment, such a silly thing to be caught up with, but she's wearing one of his shirts, big even on him and falling off her shoulder here, crouching down to light the stovetop element beneath a large, metal pot. Her hair falls over her shoulder as she squints at the flame, adjusting it.

He wants to remember how this moment makes him feel, for the rest of his life.

"I got this terrible craving for this soup from home," she tells him distractedly, heading to the kettle by the sink, "it shouldn't take too long, once everything's in I can start getting ready; we can eat and go."

When they're alone, she speaks to him only in Russian. It hadn't always been like this, she hadn't always been like this; she'd been an alien when they'd met, all of his friends too caught up by how pretty she was to notice how quiet and strange she could be. Thankfully she'd listened to him, had learned from him, had relaxed enough to be enjoyable company.

Somewhere along the way, or perhaps it was simply a side effect of their constant proximity, he'd decided it was well within his rights to test his luck, and she had kissed him back. They grew fond of each other, and that fondness led to him continuing to push his luck, knowing she was still too professional by half to initiate anything, but glad he did when he sees her coy smile, hears her say that she'll do anything to make him happy. So if he were to think about it, that's when she began switching to Russian when they were alone, far gentler, far sweeter, than she ever was in English.

English is a business language, was all she'd really said on the matter.

"Don't rush, my Clementine" he tells her fondly, and Clementine pauses, looks to him as the kettle boils, confused. He smiles warmly at her, "it's meant to snow," he nods to the window. Clementine gives a wry smile, looking back to the kettle.

"As if that's ever stopped you before."

"If I want to go out and we get all caught up in it, you'll never let me hear the end of it," he sits at the kitchen island, elbows on the marble counter top and chin in his hands, grin stretching wide and teasing as Clementine laughs.

"As if that's ever stopped you before," she points out again, laughing through her words this time. She takes the kettle, now whistling, from it's little dock, carrying it over to the pot and pouring in the water.

"Aren't you happy I'm listening to you? Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," he warned, albeit teasingly, but Clementine, after putting the empty kettle back, grows visibly confused.

"Horse?" The moment she stops at the island across from him she pulled his shirt back up her shoulder. His eyes follow the movement, lingering for just a second before he meets her gaze again.

"Its a saying," is all he can offer. Clementine doesn't draw attention to it, but as she voices that she's still confused, she shifts her shoulders and allows the shirt to fall down once more. After a moment, his gaze follows the curve of her bare shoulder to her collar, and he finds himself smiling faintly, reminded of how well she knows him, how she knows even the little things that will make him just a little happier, "it means 'don't be ungrateful'."

"What is a 'gift horse'?" She asks, stepping away and opening the refrigerator, pulling out a package wrapped in paper, from the butcher.

"I don't know," he admits, sitting back on his stool, "it's just a saying."

Silence spills from one moment to the next as Clementine carefully opens the parcel and adds some kind of diced meat into the pot, and The Son finds his attention drifting from her, to the window behind her, the snow just beginning to fall.

"You'd look beautiful in the snow," he finds himself saying, almost idly. Clementine makes a distracted noise in the back of her throat that prompts him to elaborate as he gives the pot a stir, "you look beautiful in the snow, it's a shame you don't like it."

For a moment, Clementine glances at him, wearing an amused little smile.

"I look beautiful anywhere," she says bluntly, picking up the salt shaker and pouring a small heap into her hand, "that's why you take me everywhere," it's more of the truth than he'd like to agree to, seeing as she knows he believes 'bodyguard' is a vanity title. Still, he can't fault her for that.

"But not the snow," he prompts. After adding salt, Clementine grabs the pepper, and starts hunting through the cabinet above the stove for further spices as she deliberates. When it becomes clear that she's not going to answer him, he asks why.

"I don't mind the snow."

"During the day," he corrects pointedly.

"Have I ever complained about cold nights?" She asked, but even then, spices added, turning back to him with her hip cocked against the counter, her expression gives her away.

"Your face betrays you," he tells her gently, albeit with an exasperated kind of amusement; how could the usually so hyper aware Clementine not already know this? Tellingly, in that moment, her expression, or lack-thereof, doesn't shift.

"I..." she starts to move again, checking drawers and the sink, looking for something that she can't seem to find, "I'll tell it to stop that. I don't mean to seem unhappy with where we go."

"It's not unhappy," he sighs, stretching out his arms across the counter like a cat, chin resting on the marble counter, watching her through his lashes, "it's not anything. Like that time I stepped out of our train to Moscow that arrived late, and you hadn't done that security check you do when we get off trains; you had this look on your face but then it wasn't anything," he began to fidget with his fingers. "like every time we go somewhere and it gets dark, and whether or not it was snowing before, if its dark and it's snowing you just get all nothing and look at me for directions. I don't care, I just thought you'd be less of an alien by now."

Clementine makes a distracted, almost dissatisfied hum at his words, and her hands begin to move, miming as she keeps searching, as if the gesture will help manifest the object in question.

Except he can't exactly figure out what she's looking for judging by the gesture, as he's pretty sure that's not the type of movement one uses with a kitchen implement. One might even consider it lewd, the way her fingers were curled up, almost in a fist but not quite, as if she were holding something, thrusting it back and forth in a short, repetitive motion.

"My Clementine, what are you looking for?"

"One of the good cutting knives," she muses, gaze searching the kitchen- it's a stabbing motion, oh god, definitely not a jerking off motion, occurs to him all at once, and Clementine must catch on to his unexpected horror because she asks him what's wrong. He shakes his head, as if trying to shake the thoughts out, tells her it's nothing, but continues to remind her of the knife block by the microwave.

Violent instincts despite gentle intent; he frowns as she starts chopping vegetables on the cutting board further down the counter.

Even now 'bodyguard' felt more like a vanity title for her. Since he'd been old enough to travel abroad by himself, Clementine had been with him, and it's not as if there appeared to be anyone who gave enough of a shit about him as The White Death's son to try anything outside of Japan. When he'd told her as much, Clementine gave him an odd look, and told him he should pay better attention. Then again, she's always taken things far too seriously; it's probably why his father thought so highly of her. Despite her obligations to his son, The White Death would still send her contracts for whatever locale they happened to be in.

He'd asked his father if this was necessary, he'd even asked Clementine, but both had seen fit to remind him that despite how she may act, how she looks at him, she was not his by technicality. He's never liked that, but he knows better than to draw his father's ire; the man had never been above confiscating his toys when he was younger if he didn't play with them right, didn't treat them with respect.

Clementine had never divulged details of the contracts, and initially he'd thought it was because she was ashamed, that she'd been asked to do lowly busy work his father was simply too lazy to complete. Until she'd come back early from a job, not realising she'd woken him up as she'd let herself into their hotel room at four in the morning. While she'd closed the bathroom door she hadn't bothered to lock it, and when The Son goes to see what was wrong, he sees the scratches up and along her forearms, and how she had shed her large coat and pretty, little cocktail dress to pick glass out of the wounds near her sternum.

The minute she had locked eyes with him she seemed startled, and practically sprang to her feet from where she'd been sitting on the edge of the bathtub, asking if he was okay. He wants to ask why somebody would do this to her, but realises he really doesn't want to know the answer. So he nods jerkily and closes the door as he leaves her be.

In two days, while they're having breakfast, he'll watch her take a photo of a little article near the back of one of the daily papers, and send it to someone. When he glances at it out of curiosity a little later, he sees a short article about some high profile criminal prosecutor being found dead in his office the day prior from autoerotic asphyxiation. The scratches on Clementine's arms are still visible, still healing.

Nothing else about her had changed, she even spent the better part of that night helping him talk the prettiest girl at the club into coming back to the hotel with him.

And the scratches will fade, and he'll pretend like what he saw that night was a dream, and he won't have to accept Clementine's capacity for violence. Because, not that he'd ever admit it out loud, it was less upsetting, less emasculating, than the alternative.

Maybe that's why he likes moments like these, moments ripped from some domestic fantasy he never knew he had. Clementine looking soft and warm in his clothes while she cooks something that smells like home. Which it does.

He can count on one hand the amount of times his father had taken the time to cook for him and his sister. His Aunt had come to live with them after Prince was born, but before that his mother had been doing most of the cooking. His dad had been too paranoid to even consider a nanny, but his mother never seemed to mind. She was a talented cook, something he'd taken for granted in his youth, but had come to appreciate; she used to tell him stories about how she travelled when she was young, how she fell in love with all these different dishes around the world and had learned to cook them through trial and error. His father, on the other hand, knew only a few dishes, ones from his childhood, that were hearty and rich and would 'help him grow into a strong young man'.

And the few times his Clementine had cooked for him, like now, they've always made these moments smell like home. Are these the moments in which his parents fell in love? His mother seeing a gentle kind of love and familiarity in his father's cooking despite the man's capacity for violence? Was it one of the only ways he knew how to show his love at first? Is Clementine like that too?

He wants a million moments like this, a million moments where she's by his side across the world, where she lights up when she sees him, where she'd follow him to the ends of the Earth. However many moments it would take to make her violent instincts nothing more than a bad dream, and a million more, all of them echoing that first time they were together and her 'I'll do anything to make you happy'.

"Are you alright, Sunshine?" Clementine says softly, bringing him out of his thoughts. She only ever calls him Sunshine in moments like this, a play on his name's meaning in lovingly familiar Russian, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the world.

"Come here, my Clementine," he tells her, and Clementine obligingly sets down the spoon she was stirring the stew with, rounding the counter to join him.

They fit together, they always find a way to, now with her standing between his legs, her arms around his neck as his hands rest on her hips. The scars she bares, all the more on display for the oversized shirt draped off one shoulder even now, make his gut ache; once reminders of her violent past, he tells himself he could keep her from further harm if she stayed with him. Violence neither received or inflicted, safe in his arms.

"You are beautiful everywhere," he agrees with her earlier statement, smiling softly, "but most beautiful here."

"Exactly here?" Clementine teases softly, leaning in to rest her forehead against his.

"Exactly here," he breathes, "cold night but warm apartment, my apartment, my clothes, my Clementine," he tells her, "like it was made for you."

His Clementine kisses him.

But all he wonders is what else he has to say or do, what moments he has to luck into like this one, when would he finally hear her admit that she loves him? Hasn't he been good to her? Hasn't he been gentle and kind? Hasn't he earned her love, her loyalty by now? Doesn't he deserve to at least hear that?

Doesn't she want to make him happy?

[ragecndybars]

🍈

🍈 Who’s your blorbo and what are some of your favorite headcanons/ideas about them that repeatedly show up in your fics? Free pass to rant about blorbo opinions.

👀👀👀 Anon... I hope you knew what you were getting into when you asked this.

I already went on a rant about Akihiko, so here is my Minato Arisato, aka Makoto Yuki, aka Sakuya Shiomi if ya nasty, rant <3

He only says as many words/syllables as are ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY to get his basic point across. In general, he isn't a talker, but he isn't the type to say, for instance, "I'm getting a little tired, so I'm gonna head to bed," he's more of a "Tired. Night." type of guy.

We all know that he has that Resting 😐 Face. He has a really nice smile when it's genuine, but if he tries to force it just for the sake of appearances, it looks insanely strained and just... wrong 😅

He can be a real space case sometimes. Take your eyes off of him for too long and he'll drift into traffic or walk into a pole because he's not watching where he's going, he's either doing complex mental math to allocate time and determine his schedule for the next few weeks or he's rotating a 3D model of a snake in his head, and both activities take up the same amount of brain power (all of it).

Though he's hard to read and can come off as aloof, he's a genuinely great friend who's understanding, a great listener, and very attuned to other peoples' moods. But. And I cannot stress this enough. He is kind of a huge asshole sometimes.

Autistic king.

Big fan of music and also weapons. He owns a lot of CDs, including Lotus Juice's entire discography, and can play a fair number of musical instruments to some degree of proficiency, as well as knowing Fun Facts about many other instruments. He also knows Fun Facts about many types of weapons, not limited to just the types he's able to use.

Speaking of which, I've said this before, but I think his ability to use almost any weapon type isn't just because he has an interest in weapons, or because he just has Overpowered Protag Syndrome, but also because he very closely watches his party members' movements during battle and picks up on their technique. That's also why he can't use guns or knives -- the way Aigis and Koromaru use those weapons is unique to them, as a robot and dog, so he can't observe them to see how to use them himself. I think he does know how to do basic maintenance on Aigis's guns, though, since he's seen her dong that as well.

I've said this before as well, but I don't think he's the type to address people directly very often. He's more likely to tap their shoulder, say "Hey," or just start talking without preamble. This isn't necessarily noticeable -- most people don't think to themselves, "Hm, y'know, he's never actually addressed me by name before," because that's just not something people really pick up on -- but, when he does address someone, either by name or just by "Senpai" or another relevant title, it catches their attention because they subconsciously aren't used to him addressing them, and that's why he is 100% capable of saying "Senpai" romantically.

There are very, very few foods he likes to eat, which is why he gets the same thing at every restaurant in town every time he goes, but that also means that he's very used to eating food he thinks is gross, which is why he can stomach Fuuka's creations better than any other character. To him, her burnt food slathered in all the wrong sauces and spices isn't that much worse than just having a regular entree that isn't one of his very few Approved Meals.

He's pretty laid-back and sometimes even lazy, but he HATES having free time. If he doesn't have anything to do, he isn't going to just casually indulge in a hobby or anything -- he has to have something concrete, like a Social Link to level up, or a particular skill he wants to hone, even if that skill is honed by watching a movie or something. His motto is "If I'm not doing something, then I might as well be asleep," and he sticks to that whenever he possibly can.

The only exception to this rule is video games. There are a few games he can play without needed to justify it to himself as honing his Guts or whatever. He likes farming sims :) A couple other members of SEES play them as well, but he's the only one who's remotely relaxed about it. He's just there to have fun, whereas Mitsuru and Aigis are frantically minmaxing to become billionaires in their first season. (Fuuka at least will play with him normally, though she's more of a rhythm game girl imo)

THIS IS GETTING LONG OH GOD LETS WRAP IT UP

He doesn't grasp social cues very well, but if he feels like he does understand a particular social cue, he'll use it as a crutch of some sort. For instance, to use a specific example from a published fic, when Akihiko gives him a thumbs up in Always Wanna Play, Minato thinks to himself, "Ah, yes, a thumbs up. I know what that means, and now I know that thumbs ups are an effective way to communicate with Akihiko," which is why he then gives Akihiko three more thumbs ups throughout the fic (even in very dire circumstances where it doesn't realy fit, lmao)

[galaxae]

HIIII could you do the ship questionnaire for my bestest friends sebastian and tariq specifically the love section :3

you are so fucking epic thank you for asking. it's been a while since i've done anything for those two but rest assured they are on the brain

ship questionnaire can be found here (pls send me asks! or dont! my oc ships are charity/ace, sebastian/tariq, and uhh lucia/v but those two are not as well developed as the first two ships)

Who said “I love you” first?

tariq did! it was on sebastian's birthday, december 28, the first birthday for either of them since they started dating about 3 months prior. sebastian invited him over to his house for it. he usually had huge birthday bashes, and he was going to the next day, but for his actual birthday he just wanted a nice dinner with his bf and brothers. as tariq was leaving after the dinner (which was a bit awkward, but very sweet regardless), he hugged and kissed sebastian and said "i love you". sebastian was silent for a moment and then said it back :) and then tariq went home and had a panic attack about saying it, lmao

What are their primary love languages?

tariq likes gift giving and he likes receiving words of affirmation. physical touch is also very nice half the time, and the other half the time he'd rather die. sebastian likes giving words of affirmation as a more shallow and performative expression of love, but when he really falls for tariq, he does his true expression of love which is quality time. he's also a physical touch enjoyer

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

sebastian uses cheesy pickup lines at first, which flatters and charms tariq "the only people who've ever complimented me are my parents, and one of those parents is dead" al-amin so much. once tariq gains enough confidence, that flips. and oh boy, sebastian can dish it out, but he really can't take it. he is rendered speechless by tariq's attempts at pickup lines, even if they're really bad or awkwardly delivered, seb just loves it

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

not very often at all. tariq is way too socially anxious to agree to pda, and sebastian wants to keep their relationship under wraps as much as he can so the media doesn't get all weird (seb is a celebrity, whoops)

Who initiates kisses?

sebastian does at first. but like with the pickup lines, tariq eventually gains some confidence and is the one to initiate more often instead

Who’s the big and little spoon?

tariq is the little spoon 100%, and sebastian is the big spoon 100%, it works out

What are their favorite things to do together?

honestly? just kinda hang out and chat. the beginning of their relationship involves a lot of Dates(TM), to fancy restaurants, cafes, the movie theater, etc. but they soon calm down a little as their relationship becomes less performative on both ends. they sit in the same room while tariq does his coursework and sebastian trains, and they'll play video games or listen to music together too. just the simple things.

Who’s better at comforting the other?

sebastian is better at that. he's got such a good charisma stat. tariq has like -2 charisma BUT he soon learns that just being a gentle, quiet, calming presence that doesn't expect a performance will be super comforting to seb, so tariq's not half bad at that either

Who’s more protective?

they have a goddamn competition going or something to see who can be more protective. sebastian is like, i'm gonna track down beat up that one girl who pranked you in 7th grade, and also i'm gonna make sure this relationship stays as secret as possible because i don't want you to suffer from fame, and if someone tries to question why you're next to me i will use my ice powers to freeze their mouth shut. and tariq is like, i will straightup break my whole body to go help if you seem even a little in danger, i don't care if i'm useless in a fight, i'm gonna beat up the supervillain that hurt you and murdered one of your brothers and no you can't stop me. fuck you. their mutual friends are so tired of their bullshit.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

mostly physical, in many forms. unless tariq is having a bad sensory day, or bad symptoms from his chronic illness, in which case verbal affection is the way to go

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

idk many, but i know um, it's kind of a lot by will wood honestly reflects both of their perspectives, they're both afraid of losing each other for many many reasons. particularly sebastian, he's not used to genuinely falling in love with the guys he asks out

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

tariq calls sebastian "habibi", and eventually he takes to calling him "sebby" too, a nickname usually only reserved for sebastian's brothers. sebastian calls tariq things like "babe" or "baby" at first, but as they get closer, he starts calling tariq "my songbird".

Who remembers the little things?

they both do, but tariq especially, he has a keen eye for details and a sharp memory when it comes to things he's actually interested in (i.e. his boyfriend), so he remembers and points out those things all the time. sebastian notices the little things too, but he's unused to being this deeply in love, and he struggles to articulate those little things that he notices -- he can't fall back on his rehearsed, more generic compliments, and this causes discomfort, so he doesn't really say or do anything about those details

gawd this was fun i miss these two :3 thank you again!!

[suga4mycoffee]

I posted 457 times in 2022

That's 457 more posts than 2021!

37 posts created (8%)

420 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@yeetlegay

@rainbowcolored7

@lutawolf

@kinnship

@iffervescent

I tagged 448 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#coconuts mafia - 421 posts

#kinnporsche - 251 posts

#kinnporsche the series - 238 posts

#kinn theerapanyakul - 49 posts

#porsche pachara - 41 posts

#porsche kittisawasd - 40 posts

#apo nattawin - 39 posts

#kinnporsche meta - 34 posts

#mile phakphum - 32 posts

#love in the air the series - 23 posts

Longest Tag: 77 characters

#i too was attempting to manifest insight from the queen of the coconuts mafia

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Saw a post where someone was bitching about Korn, and it reignited my hatred...

The constant manipulative and condescending bullshit he's pulling is unbelievable. A benevolent smile, and soft-spoken words, hiding cold calculation, and someone who would be willing to sacrifice his son's happiness, sanity, and probably even his life, if it means his family is in a position of power. As long as there is a legacy. (Tankhun may be unable to lead the family, but Korn doesn't need Kinn to take over. Because he'd drag Kim back kicking and screaming, with no hesitation, and to hell with what Kim thought about it. The only reason he hasn't done that, is because he has Kinn to step up and take over. If Kinn were to die, become seriously injured, or even just earn enough of his father's displeasure... Korn would give Kim that responsibility. I 100% believe that.)

And the way he keeps up the (thin) facade of caring and concerned father, while making sure to keep Kinn firmly under his thumb, and even crushed under his heel? Never missing a chance to bring up Kinn's past 'mistakes'. Encouraging Kinn to be distant and almost isolated, but still heavily reliant on Korn for praise and validation, because it's a way to control him and manipulate him. Speaking in bullshit parables, like he's some wise old sage, when he's really just coming off sounding like one of those douchebags on the internet who think they're so cultured and enlightened, and are eager to tell you all about it. Giving Porsche special treatment, and then demanding Porsche be punished for something, because he's just another bodyguard and doesn't deserve special treatment.

(That's not even touching on the fact that I don't believe he's got any reason to be punished. I know people are all like "He's a bodyguard, he should have been more careful!", and I would agree... if not for Kinn. I know very little about D/s dynamics, but I personally saw Porsche look to Kinn for permission to take the water. And because Kinn has no social skills to apply to the task of 'flirting with his crush', and was being 'coached' by his friends, when he ends up smiling at Porsche (if we can call that a smile, you awkward little cabbage) and giving a little nod, well... To me, and probably to Porsche, that was a nod of permission. Yes? Probably need @lutawolf to tell me if I'm seeing correctly, or I'm being a big dumb.)

These barely scratch the surface. I might revisit Korn's scenes in the future, if anyone thinks I have a point to further turn my brain onto. If not, fuck that guy. He can get face-fucked by a cactus, because you can see how much Kinn is impacted by what Korn says and thinks. Which is why I found the 'rusty knife' scene so interesting. Because here we see Kinn visibly and significantly uncomfortable with what Korn is trying to pull, and his expression does a whole-ass journey. Again, I can also talk about that, if anyone wants me to.

In summary, it's 3:48AM, I've been frothing at the mouth about this for an hour or so, and I'm going to go the fuck to sleep.

My rage is immeasurable, and Korn can catch these fucking hands.

103 notes - Posted May 23, 2022

#4

In my humble opinion...

Kinn needs to get his ass eaten and destroyed. And Porsche is just the man to do it.

I will not be accepting criticism at this time.

139 notes - Posted May 17, 2022

#3

It's a good thing we don't have P'Pond's email, or anything. I can just see it now:

Dear P'Pond,

Thank you so much for the absolute masterpiece that is KinnPorsche The Series. Me and my fellow thirsty hoes would like to request that you just straight-up film sex tapes for any of your actors who are willing to 'perform', and make them available for purchase immediately. We'll take digital download, if you don't want to incur the expense of physical copies, photocards, etc.

Sincerely, The Coconuts Mafia: Conglomerate of Unrepentant Sluts

173 notes - Posted July 28, 2022

#2

The moments of realisation that hit you when re-watching this show are brutal.

Like the moment where Vegas speaks about taking care of the hedgehogs, and all of them dying.

The moment where he speaks about the last one, and how "He still left me, too."

How "I didn't even get to name him.", because if he didn't name him, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much when he died.

How everything he's ever tried to take care of, except Macau, has died. And that he must be terrified that something will happen to Macau, too.

When he says "Everything that I love has left me.", and you realise he's just waiting for that to happen to everyone in his life that he even remotely cares about.

How you realise that, maybe, this is why Vegas tried so hard to treat Pete like a pet at first.

Maybe, this is why he kept calling Pete a pet. "You are such a good pet of the main family."

Perhaps, it's why he tried to make Pete eat from a pet bowl.

Because if Pete was 'just' a pet, like the hedgehogs he's cared for, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much if he died.

But when he sees that Pete might actually die, he panics.

He crumbles, because he's scared he'll lose Pete, just as easily as those hedgehogs.

When he calls Pete's name, no longer calling him a pet of any kind, shaking his arm, tapping his face. Because Pete is so much more than a pet.

How Vegas dresses Pete's wounds, gives him medicine, speaks to him softly.

How he makes him hot food, in a proper bowl with proper utensils, and even eats some of it himself, to not only prove that it isn't poisoned, but to show that it's a bowl he's willing to eat from. That it isn't something he'd give to a pet.

How he's completely fine with Pete having a book to read, until Pete says something that makes him lash out.

How he gave Pete a chance to escape, to leave him, instead of dying under his hands, like all his hedgehogs. Like the one he holds in his hands when he leaves him the key.

The way he sits like his strings have been cut, mourning the last hedgehog, and knows that Pete will be gone by the time he's brushed himself off and gone back inside.

Because "Everything that I love has left me."

Except Pete.

Because Pete doesn't, no, can't leave Vegas while he's suffering.

He was given the perfect opportunity to leave, to go back to the main family, to escape Vegas.

And instead of grasping that opportunity with both hands, he stays. He sees Vegas, alone and in mourning, and decides that he can't leave him.

He gives Vegas an ear, lends his metaphorical shoulder to cry on, because he wants to help ease his suffering.

He sits with Vegas as he gives the hedgehog a little funeral, handing him flowers to lay atop the grave. (If I'm not mistaken, the flowers are plumeria flowers, which have various meanings, one of them being new beginnings.)

When Vegas stands and walks away, Pete follows.

Pete says he doesn't know why he didn't run away, but I don't believe that. I don't think Vegas really believes that, either.

And Vegas opens up to Pete. He tells him about the hedgehogs, about his battle to care for them and keep them alive, and how he failed. How they died over, and over, and over. How he doesn't have any left. How he didn't name the last one, because maybe it would hurt less when that one died too.

He tells Pete how he's always measured against the main family, against Kinn, and found lacking. How, no matter what he does, his efforts will never be noticed, never be given the same weight.

Pete tries to comfort him, tries to stop him from hurting himself.

See the full post

206 notes - Posted June 28, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Okay, but Kinn trying to talk to Porsche while being 'patient and calm', and instead shrieking like a particularly grouchy alley cat in heat every two seconds? Fucking flawless?

And then trying to modulate his tone and volume, and ending up being so fucking cringe, because he's emotionally constipated and has no proper social skills to speak of, because he's never needed them? Immaculate?

Finally, Porsche being so fucking done with him the entire time, his face practically screaming 'fuck you and all you stand for and your stupid family' while not giving Kinn a single inch of anything, except more rope to hang himself with during this fucking disaster of a conversation? Priceless?

This is my third re-watch, and I'm still feeling so many things, but the overriding emotion this time?

Pure petty glee.

Don't get me wrong, I love Kinn, and I'm sure he'll get (some) of his shit together soon, but damn, bitch. I thought Porsche was our beloved disaster king, but Kinn's coming for his crown in this episode.

306 notes - Posted May 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[doctor-looneys-remedy]

I think we need to talk about Harry Potter.

Not the TERF queen who wrote it. I think she is suffering from the whole "I'm important! Why aren't people listening to me!!?" thing.

Let me make myself clear, lest my words be misunderstood: I don't get the whole bathroom debate. I have walked out of many a bathroom stall on the tipsy side to find a straight, cishet guy at the sink, shrugging and saying that the men's was broken. Everyone was super chill and no one cared. Happens more often than you think. A hundred year-old building with plumbing that hasn't been updated since Kennedy was in office is going to have a problem or two, and my town has its share of these establishments.

I'm here to talk about the work itself. And it isn't really in defense of the work either. It's more about what I carried into the books when I read them, which was in my 20's. Not in my teen years.

I don't think Harry Potter is Shakespeare.

I have seen some interesting takes on why Harry Potter is bad from a writing perspective. A lot of it seems to boil down to some of the same points. I'm not going to go through all of them. I'm only going to talk about one, because it bridges into a bigger issue I have with fantasy writing.

There is this complaint that in HP, the system of magic isn't explained enough and doesn't have any rules that it operates by.

I need to be honest about this. Maybe I'm coming out of a bit of a closet by saying this, and maybe its a fucking odd thing: When I used to read books by fantasy authors as a kid or a teenager, anytime some "teacher" started some finger waggy "now these are the rules" or "if you do magic x it will cost x amount of soul points" or something that sounded remotely similar in some way, I just rolled my eyes and wanted to put the book down. Kind of a "Oh. here's this shit again" reaction.

I WANTED magic that could do damn near anything. I wanted someone to write about that kind of magic. Magic that could allow you to turn a continent upside down and materialize a pizza out of nothingness the next day.

Maybe the question is.. why do people think the "correct" way to write about a concept like actual fucking magic (!!?) is to cage it into a set of do's and don't's and making it cost something soul-changey to begin with? And why should that be the only way to do it? Am I the Only Weirdo who finds that whole thing just irritating at the end of the day?

Can we stop with the Dollar General and Walmart magic and instead, let our brains bathe in the luxury of full-on, 100% anything-goes magic?

I mean, I've been the Only Weirdo plenty of times, so no big surprise if I am the only person who thinks like this.

Edit:

I already know there are some who would argue in some kind of shade-filled, know-it-all way, "**I** just think it makes it more interesting if... "

(I know, you hear them say it in the exact same tone I do, don't you? You heard them in your head pronouncing every syllable of "interesting" in that certain way didn't you?)

O.k., fine. You can find whatever you want interesting. I don't give a shit. Let me counter that by saying that sometimes things are interesting because they are. They exist in the fiction world you are writing, and that is the point of interest. How is it that a human with nearly god-like powers isn't interesting, but a human who can turn himself into a turnip every second Thursday if he sacrifices an ounce of soul or a piece of a toe is?

[emmondsokolov]

//Pacing around the kitchen and thinking about OCs and not sure where to put this so y'all are getting it on here :)

Anyone who's stuck with me long enough and seen me develop characters or rp with me knows how much I love to delve into and explore character psyche.

Every single one of my OCs will have at least one mental illness or disability, not a single one gets by me unscathed. And it's not like that's my intended goal from creation! It usually starts with an idea or a design I think could work, or a story element is missing and I build someone up to fill that hole. They get a loose backstory, and a personality to go with it. Then I set them free inside my brain and let them mingle with my friend's OCs for a few instances.

Maybe a month or so later, after fleshing out their backstory more and seeing how they respond when put in situations, I'll sit back and just... Analyze them. Pick them apart. And have a big think over why they are that way. Their personality will almost always change from what they're first presented with. For example, Urzula was a much more cool and collected mageslayer, reserved and polite, but deadly when necessary. Now I know her reserved and quiet nature comes from a place of anxiety and she is very timid, especially in regards to how other people perceive her, and avoids killing as much as possible where it can be avoided.

I don't particularly have the medical training or knowledge to back me up 100%, but I have my own and many of my friends and family's experiences to draw from and add to my understanding. And when I don't have the word for a particular condition, my partner is especially good at tracking down and researching symptoms, and finding what they can add up to.

BEAR WITH ME I'm rambling and haven't even reached what I wanted to say yet.

And I'm not sure how exactly to lead into this but, all of this is to say:

Antisocial Personality Disorders are extremely interesting to read about, namely psychopaths and sociopaths. And I think more people could stand to consider this for their characters!

Most people only think of the most extreme cases and villains for these conditions, and media does portray them in a very misleading way. Psychopath is also used as a common insult or tease flung around willy nilly at anyone so much as acting a little bit goofy or even having a nervous breakdown.

To save further rambling, this is a very very very basic breakdown of the two so I can get on with it.

All of this is to say, Marloix is definitely a psychopath. Combined with crippling depression and substance abuse he even displays sociopath behavior sometimes.

Aleks is another OC I had for a long time who I also pinned as a psychopath years ago, although her whole demeanor is very different to Marloix. She also has depression but has a lot more of her shit together.

Nelandrie has a lot of similarities to some sociopath traits, but hers all comes from severe PTSD, and contrary to what one may be led to believe, she does care. She cares a lot. And has 100 years give or take of coping mechanisms to squash all that down into a pointy little box in her heart. She has anger and impulse issues, a desperate need to be in control at all times, and certainly a power complex of some sort. I'm still figuring her out.

This is getting long enough already so I won't bore my minuscule followers with further details unless anyone asks me to elaborate on anything. I'm happy to talk about this sort of thing in further detail, as you may have noticed this is an interest of mine.

[thejustknowing]

Listen to me I have something to say

I am writing with hope that I can put into words how to begin to heal from this. The challenge is convincing a person at the rock bottom of emotional abuse to be brave and hopeful. It's hard to have faith in something they can't see from where you are. If you can't see the light, it takes incredible strength and trust to walk blindly in the direction of where it 'might' be. It's even more difficult to make them accept that for light to enter, the darkness blocking it must be released and felt deeply; painfully. That until they learn to be aware of their own deathgrip on all the invisible tangled strings they use to try to bring back who they used to be, they cannot begin to heal. We all use these strings in our life to survive and control what happens to us. We assume we need to keep hold of them to remain in control of where life takes us in areas like realationships, love and career. We believe that we have that power but the truth is that the power is never in the strings, the power to manifest lives inside of us. When someone takes our voice, self esteem, our trust in ourselves... They take hold of those strings. The trauma and damage they cause become what they dangle us from as we hopelessy try to maintain control. You feel like you are losing grip and you are fighting like hell to keep hold because the unknown is terrifying. What will happen your poor children if you lost control? You fear judement and opinions and shame. He knows you won't let go though, he's got you, and he hurt you on purpose! All of this you will have to find a way to do an accept to complete the first stage of healing. Before all of that I must convince you as quickly as possible become an expert in Manipulation and Narcissism. These complex subjects are not often talked about,  let alone taught to you. They are not our nature and it will feel like a dagger in your chest learning it was a game, and worse a known pattern.

Even if you grew up watching abusive relationships you likely as an adult don't have any idea how an emotional abusive or narcissistic brain works, or it's motivations, or that it's a sick game that beins with love. I came out of childhood knowing exactly what toxic, cruel abusive relationships looked like. How could I ever miss it. I was looking for Romeo and Juilet/and /the notebook/a walk to remember type love, I would never pick somebody like the men who were mean to my mom. I thought I was the stronger most independent 20 something ever, but I was vulnerable in a big way too. My personal vulnerability was a perfect mixture of my knowledge of what abuse looks and sounds like from childhood, not knowing a what a truly healthy loving realtionship looked like, and my belief that I was mentally stronger than anything that came my way from about 18ish forward. If one person would have ever even mentioned emotional abuse and manipulation to me at 25 or 30 (which they did not) I would have been 100% sure it could never happen to me. I love it when people who haven't experienced it say "Well I'd never put up with that" "I would have left" The saddest part is they are vulnerable too and they don't understand subtle, slow, intentional destruction you try to tell them about...The isolated events don't seem like anything more than a  one off rude comment, a marital argument, or maybe just a misunderstanding. It's time to educate and raise awareness of the silent abuse that sneaks up on you, and kills your soul one tiny piece at a time. 

[corruptedroses]

All version of Bonnie NSFW headcanons

AGE IN BIO OR ITS ON SIGHT

More for a warm-up given that I've been stuck on how to proceed with a request, so I was like 'fuck it, let's do a bunch of headcanons for my favourite type of animatronic'. especially given the request revolves around a Bonnie (of my choice) anyway.

AU version of the animatronics - none have children souls in them (and why the fuck would I write about kids on a smut blog?) and you can picture them however you want, human, animatronic, anthro, etc.

Spring Bonnie in these is NOT springtrap/any version of him or William Afton, if there is interest I may write separate William stuff.

There is no bonbon or book-exclusive versions of Bonnie.

Try and guess which one was my favourite to write.

BTW, if anyone wants to share their headcanons with me, please do

CWs: impact play, mention of bruising/wounds caused by biting, mention of sensory play, size difference, choking, temperature play/wax play, breeding kink, body worship, semi-public and public sex

Spring Bonnie

Switch, top, bottom, middle, he will find a way to love you

As the first iteration of Bonnie before any weird shit started happening, I suspect that he probably is pretty soft when it comes to his partners.

The most vanilla out of all of them but he has a praise kink, defiantly, the moment you start praising him for something — sexual or not — he's going to start having racing thoughts about you.

Big on holding when he's in the moment with you; you're his adoring partner, his beautiful lover, he's going to touch and hold you and make sure that your pleasure is before his own whether you like it or not.

Cannot do quickies for the life of him, he needs to be romantic no matter the position he finds himself in.

Very loud, he will ramble on and on about how he loves you and how he adores you so much if you're giving him head and will always promise to give you something back in return for being so good to him.

easily becomes a blubbering mess

Original Bonnie/Withered Bonnie

Domineering as fuck, this Bonnie does not submit under any circumstances and will always be the one fucking the brains out of you in any scenario; you start it, he starts it, so unless you tied him down while he was unconscious he will not submit to you.

Even when he finds himself in situations where he's on the bottom, he will find a way to make sure you know who's in control: biting, manhandling, whispering how good you're taking him, he is not afraid of marking you and showing people who you belong to.

Even if he may be the aggressive lover, he will always stop when you ask him to, knowing how much his strength can impact others and will do anything in his power to make sure you feel safe and secure no matter the situation. If you shout out the safe word or any indication to stop or start crying, he will stop straight away and will put your face in his hands, make you look at him and confirm if you want to stop or if you want him to go slower. As much as he loves to see you marked up because of him, he cannot stand the sight of you crying for the life of him: he wants to protect you, he wants you to feel safe.

He is very attentive and you can see it no matter what, very big on eye contact no matter what; eating you out, railing you into the bedsheets so hard you can barely breathe, he will constantly look at your face through thick lashes.

Not very vocal, but if you want him to be then my god, despite his punishing pace he is very, very romantic and soft and this continues into the aftercare; as much as he's aggressive he will make sure that you're looked after, so he has a habit of keeping a medkit, water, anything you might need besides the bed, though there are a few medkits throughout the house since he knows himself better and that his libido can be insanely high.

If you're up for another round however... how could he say no?

Toy Bonnie

Power bottom 100%, this man enjoys finding himself in the position where he's able to watch his partner do the work, but lord have mercy he knows how to work his own sort of magic.

Gets off on the concept of being praised, hell, he wants all your attention on him at all times so being in such an intimate spot makes him so giddy and happy and he will pepper you with kisses and coos about how good you are to him, how much he loves you, etc.

Isn't ashamed for having sex toys and would like the idea of you watching him get himself off with one makes him feel all hot inside, though he wouldn't mind if you were the one to use them on him instead — the moment you ask him to use them on you would be the day he wouldn't live down since he will make you squirm.

Very flexible and will get into any position you want, hell, he'll even do a handstand.

As much as he can be a whore, he believes fully in safe words and will stop whatever he's doing straight away to make sure you're ok and will expect for you to do the same, like, you can put a collar and leash on him, call him bitch boy and everything, but as soon as he tells you to stop please do — if you don't, he's going to actually cry since he trusts you so much.

After shows is when he's the most handsy and less likely to want to bottom, especially if he sees someone else get too close to you for his comfort and holy shit he will pull you into the nearest bathroom or closet and take you right there if he wants to because he loves you so so much.

he really is love-struck, you know?

Shadow Bonnie

Submissive top — I have no reason for this one, just speaks to me

I feel like he has self-confidence issues, so the concept of doing it in the dark is something he enjoys doing often, though there is the concept of sensory play sometimes thrown in.

He probably doesn't exactly have a set pace since his pace probably depends on his mood, though usually he'll try and stick with one pace for the entire time.

Would probably enjoy shibari with glowing ropes in different colours, watching as the light caught on your skin from the work he had done as you lay there (won't suspend you in the air until he's 100% certain with his skills).

You paint on him and Bonnie will find himself panting three ways to Sunday because he finds it oddly erotic that you want to treat him like an art piece and, if you don't mind it, he will wear it into the bedroom as it reminds him of how much you love him. Bonus if it also glows.

If he really, really gets into it, you'll find that he is quite the dirty talker, sure, he's not loud but some of the things he says can make you weak because "maybe I should turn on the light to see how wide I'm splitting you open". Surprisingly is very receptive of praise as well and will start talking even dirtier.

God tier aftercare

Nightmare Bonnie

Power switch and you'll see why in a second.

I imagine he's fucking massive not just his dick but overall, like, if original Bonnie was big, he's bigger. Easily can pick you up with one hand and use you however he wanted and that's the part that scares him. It's the fact that he could easily hurt you if you're not careful that makes him so hesitant.

The first few times, you've defiantly got to lead since compared to him you're so tiny, but even then you can see him try and hold himself back because doing things like fucking yourself against his fingers looks so amazing to him since he gets to see your pleasure on his face.

Also very attentive, because once you show him something you like or don't like, he will remember it. Like say you enjoy the feeling of his tongue and he will find a way to include it into intimate moments. Would want to spend hours between your legs if I had to be honest.

Pull his hair or tail, he gets off to it hard and will call you so good to him.

Probably into choking a little bit, sure, you cannot get your hands around his neck for the life of you but if you allow him to he will choke you if he thinks you're getting close.

one of two of the versions of Bonnie that would be fine with a threesome.

also god-tier aftercare

Jack-O-Bonnie

100% power top (mostly)

I imagine he's deep into temperature play, or more specifically wax play given his whole niche with being a jack-o-lantern version of the original nightmare Bonnie, hell, probably even likes it if you do it to him as well on the rare occasion he lets you top.

like Nightmare Bonnie, he has an insane amount of strength but in his case he isn't afraid to use it - he can and will use you like a fleshlight and probably has.

He, for some god damn reason, just seems to get hotter whenever he gets horny so its a mixture of keeping him cool and also not turning him off by accident.

He likes impact play a lot, but he prefers humiliation more since he loves the faces you make when he tells you how filthy you look coming undone on his cock, so pretty and just begging for him to breed you.

All the Bonnies have a breeding kink, his is just more out there.

Not the best with aftercare given that he's sorta a being purely made on nightmares but he does make an effort to try and do so. It doesn't mean he doesn't care though; this man would move mountains for you to make you smile.

Rockstar Bonnie

Service top for the sake of enjoying an audience as he makes you sing. It's a surprising fact when the two of you first do the devil's tango as you expected to have to do all the work given how airheaded and egotistical he is on a good day. It wasn't an unpleasant surprise though, as not only did he take the lead, he was good at it.

He is defiantly one of the more vanilla versions of all the Bonnies, especially so since he's the type to get jealous if the attention is not on him: defiantly an attention hog and wants to make sure you know it. He doesn't care about receiving his pleasure as long as you're happy.

Defiantly someone who does body worship no matter your body type or any conditions you may have. Probably does it outside the bedroom too if he can; he cannot keep his hands off of you. To him, you're a star as bright as him so he wants to make sure that you're always looking your best no matter what.

Will indulge in any desires you have and is defiantly the one to pull the romantics, however he has a big no-no policy when it comes to anything that would cause for you to get hurt more beyond hickies as he worries he'll hurt you more than what he would mean to. He knows he's strong and just like nightmare Bonnie fears that he'll hurt you to the point of breaking.

If you catch him off guard and give him head, oh boy does he make the prettiest noises — he says that he doesn't need the pleasure since being inside you is enough, but there's something about watching him basically become cross-eyed as you look up at him that is so pretty. Sure, you'll get chastised later but hey, it's worth it.

He 100% wants to do it on a stage once, though preferably when there's no one around and no chance of anyone coming in to interrupt.

Glamrock Bonnie

Service switch (with a hint of daddy energy) and relishes in it, like Rockstar Bonnie he has no care in what position he is in or how much pleasure he receives, though it's for completely different reasons: he just likes to see you come undone because of him.

Wants to fuck to the beat of music at least once, he's a musician in a place where music is constantly playing at all times during the day when they're operating, of course he'd want to indulge in those desires.

Has no complaints about semi-public sex if you're comfortable with it, quickies in a closet or risky full-blown sex in one of the security offices, he will be down to do it anywhere. Probably have fucked on the bowling lanes after hours when he shuts off the place and knows there's no one watching the cameras.

Loves it when you drool around his fingers, loves it even more at the shivers when he calls you a good girl/boy/toy.

He's skinny with a lot of lean muscle, so don't be too shocked if he uses that against you to pin your hands above your head, fingers intertwined as he grinds his hips down onto yours.

the second bonnie that would be a-ok having a threesome.

Most likely to have angry sex surprisingly enough despite having a cool temper; there is only so much he can deal with and as much as he won't hurt you, he will make sure that he uses that energy for good use.

Strip bowling has been done, probably was what led to the fucking on the bowling lanes.

He will let you peg him.

[sweetpuddings]

Forgive Me, Father (For I Will Sin)

Part Two

AO3 Link

Summary:

Peter is a priest and you have to atone for your sins.

Priest Kink based AU

Word Count: ~ 4k

Tags: F/M, Female coded / AFAB Reader, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Priest Kink, Religion Kink

CW: Sacrilegious behaviour If you are uncomfortable with explicit stuff done in religious settings, I highly recommend you don’t read this.

A/N at the end!

--

He was right.

It’s Tuesday afternoon and the church is as empty as can be.

Walking down the aisle, you can make out the noise of people talking in the adjacent room. Probably that AA meeting Peter mentioned.

If you’re honest, you’re not 100% confident on the path this encounter will take. With any other person, it’d be easy. Say the right words, laugh at the right jokes, bat your eyelashes one too many times. That’s usually all it takes; most men truly are that easy to figure out.

But not Peter.

Apart from the fact that he’s a different person than he was nearly a decade ago, you’ve never quite been able to figure him out.

Really, it’s a surprise your plan worked as well as it did – you had expected a bit more resistance.

Then again, maybe that resistance will present itself today and all your hard work will be for naught.

The thought fills you with dread. Shaking your head, as if to get rid of it, you resign yourself to simply do what you do best; if it works – perfect; if it doesn’t – well, you tried. The few times you were able to elicit a reaction out of Peter already count as small victories in your head.

Hanging around the confessional booth, you look around for some sort of sign of Peter. When you don’t see him immediately, you decide to inspect the confessional a bit more as a sort of… durability check.

You’re lucky, truly, that this church’s booths are equipped with two doors instead of just curtains. From the looks of it, it seems big enough to move around in comfortably. Not ideal, but it would get the job done – if everything goes according to plan, at least.

Just when you’re getting antsy about Peter possibly not even being here, you hear the door on the right creak open and a familiar head of hair poke out.

Oh thank god.

You flash him a smile in greeting, which he promptly returns.

Not saying a word, he nods in the direction of the adjacent door, motioning for you to get in.

You’re pretty sure the lack of anonymity defeats the point of a confessional, but that’s not what you’re here for anyway.

Stepping in, you pull the door closed and take a seat.

Looking through the divider, you can vaguely make out his silhouette taking a seat as well.

You’re not actually here to confess anything. After all, you like to think that you’ve lived a good life. Sure, maybe not the most virtuous life, but good nonetheless.

So when Peter patiently waits for you to start, you don’t actually know what to say.

You rack your brain and say the first thing that comes to mind.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have… sinned?” You don’t mean for it to come out as a question, but still the end of your sentence betrays you.

You hear a soft chuckle from the other side of the divider.

“First time?”

The ease at which he asks this takes you a bit by surprise, considering the last few interactions you had with him were tinged with nervousness on his part.

You sigh. “Is that not what you say?”

Another chuckle. “It’s fine, some people opt for ‘bless me, Father’.”

It doesn’t particularly make sense to you what is or isn’t said, but you indulge him.

“Bless me, then.”

You shake your head, almost exasperated with yourself. You wouldn’t consider yourself a particularly impatient person – especially not after all the work you’ve put into this – but now that you’re so close, it’s almost unbearable.

Straightening up, you continue. “I suppose I’m here to confess for my sins in the past.”

You wait for a reaction from Peter, when there isn’t one, you add: “And also for my sins in the present.”

Even though you can’t see much of him, you think you saw him tilt his head in question.

So far, so good.

“As you know, Father Parker, I’ve had many indiscretions in the past.” An understatement. “But I’m afraid that I’ve been having impure thoughts more recently as well.” An even bigger understatement.

“This is particularly upsetting, because these thoughts…“ You choose your next words carefully. “…are about the new priest at this church, actually.”

Peter’s smart, smarter than you. He’s definitely picked up on your advances by now, and the fact that he hasn’t backed out is already a good sign.

You prop up your elbow on the little ledge in front of the screen. “It’s frustrating really, hearing him talk during mass, looking as good as he does.” You sigh. “I can’t help but imagine what I would let him do to me.”

You bite your lip.

“And really, Father.” You continue. “I’d let him do anything he wanted to me.”

Peter’s laboured breathing is interrupted by a slight hitch, and you stifle a small giggle.

“Do you think it’s wrong of me to think this?”, you ask.

His reply doesn’t come instantly, you think he might have been hesitating even.

“I- I’m not here to decide what’s right or wrong.” You watch him shift in his seat. “I’m only here to advise you on how to repent.”

“And repent is what I would love to do.” You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “It’s just-“

You sigh dramatically. “I can’t help but wonder. Would he want me as well?”

“Are- “, Peter coughs. “Are you asking me?”

“Who else would I ask?” Leaning closer, you clarify. “Do you think he’d like to fuck me as much as I’d like to fuck him?”

That’s really the most direct way you could have possibly asked him, but your patience is wearing thin.

You hear Peter shift again, and then again, as if he’s a bit restless.

“He shouldn’t.”, you hear him mumble. “He’s a man of God.”

You hum. “But that’s not what I asked, was it? Would he want to?

Even though you can’t see him, you think you heard him gulp.

Alright, you guess he just needs a little more encouragement.

“You know, I’ve done some research, and some priest are allowed to have certain relations.”

“After-“, Peter starts abruptly before clearing his throat and starting over. “After marriage. Not before.”

You admit, this isn’t going the way you had planned. Even though you’ve expected some sort of resistance, you’re starting to run out of hands to play.

 “I was just thinking.” You purse your lips. “That if he wanted to, no one else would have to know.”

Almost instantly, Peter asks, “What do you mean?”

“I’m saying.”, you start slowly, mostly to give yourself time to think, “that he has embarked on a wonderful journey of faith, which is very noble and must not have been easy. I would definitely understand if he needed a break. Nothing anyone needs to know.”

“A break?”, Peter rasps out.

You hum in agreement. “A small indiscretion. Just a few, discreet, moments of pause, after which he could continue following his faith to the fullest.”

You wait a beat to let your words sink in, then you ask: “What do you think, Father?”

He doesn’t react for a while.

A lull fills the atmosphere and you almost fear that you’ve said the wrong thing; failed your mission.

Then, you hear him chuckle; shoulders shaking as he laughs to himself silently.

“You’re killing me.”

He stands abruptly and opens his door in one motion; swiftly stepping out before slamming it closed again.

Shocked at his sudden exit, you stand up as well; barely registering what is happening.

Before you can decide on your next actions, the door on your side opens up, revealing a breathless Peter with an almost feral look in his eyes.

“You’re really fucking killing me.”

He surges forwards with newfound determination; letting the door fall close behind him. One of his hands grabs the back of your head and then, finally, he pushes your lips to his in an almost desperate kiss.

You reciprocate on instinct; mouth falling open to welcome his; hands grasping at the fabric of his clothes.

Peter wraps an arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer as his tongue slides against yours with an aggressive note you never would have expected from him.  

You weave your fingers through his soft locks, pulling faint but oh so heavenly moans from the back of his throat.

His low sounds of pleasure pull you out of your momentary haze; you remember where you are and that you need to work fast.

“Sit down.”, you whisper against his lips.

Leaning back, Peter looks at you with lowered eyelids for a moment, before nodding and promptly doing as told.

Biting your lip, you follow him with your eyes as he turns around and sits down onto the small bench. It’s a bit cramped, but you slide onto his lap with ease, grinding into him in the process.

Peter’s head falls back as he groans at the friction; you shut up him with another open mouthed kiss.

You lift your hand to his jaw; thumb grazing the stubble there as you relish every inch of skin you can find. Traveling down, your hand catches on his clerical collar. Frustrated, you tug on it as you simultaneously whine against his mouth, signalling to him to take it off.

Leaning back, he reaches up and rips the white piece of plastic from his collar. He lets its fall to the ground as your hands immediately lift to fumble with his shirt.

You feel as if you’re opening a present; each opened button grants you access to one more inch of Peter’s lovely skin. All those times you wondered – no, fantasized about what was beneath those baggy clothes he always wore; finally you would find out, run your hands along him, cherish everything he has to offer.

Just as you get the last button loose, you slide your hands up the expanse of his surprisingly muscled stomach; up his chest and along his shoulders until his shirt falls off.

Peter shrugs it off immediately; hands returning to your body near instantly. Settling his hands on your hips, he eyes you from top to bottom, taking you in for a moment.

“You want this?”, he breathes.

A laugh bubbles up in your chest. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

You watch as Peter’s lips morph into something akin to a smirk, but you don’t get much time to focus on it as he grabs you by the throat and pulls you into another heated kiss.

His other hand slides up your body until he reaches the straps of your dress; sliding both off your shoulders and helping you get your arms out.

You cradle his face in both hands as Peter moves his kisses from your lips, to your jaw, to your neck. He mouths at the skin in a way that sends near unbearable shivers through you. Gripping the neckline of your dress, he pulls it down roughly; taking your bra with it.

You gasp out in surprise and he takes the opportunity to shove his tongue down your throat again; muffling the sounds you make as he kneads at your breasts with a force that borders on painful, but you’d be lying if you said his sudden aggression isn’t turning you on.

You bite down on his bottom lip to get him to back off. When he does; breathless and lips swollen, you lift yourself up on your knees in order to slide your dress up until it bunches up around your hips.

Peter’s eyes trail your every motion until they fixate on your newly revealed underwear. As if in a trance, Peter reaches forwards until his fingers slip between your legs; cautiously prodding at your clothed entrance.

Not that the fabric offers up any sort of barrier really; you’re so wet that you’ve entirely soaked through your panties. A fact which Peter comes to realize the moment he touches you. Two fingers hook around the fabric and shove them to the side; gliding along your lips in the process and grazing your clit ever so slightly.

You moan out in frustration and grind onto his hand; your own grasping at his pants as you struggle to unbutton them.

Smiling, Peter watches you fumble until he relents and opens it himself.

“You just can’t wait, can you?”, he chuckles up at you.

You roll your eyes. “I’m surprised you can.”

Peter doesn’t offer up a reply, instead he returns his attention back to your dripping cunt. Using his middle and ring finger, he rubs against your folds; circles your clit; spreads you open as his eyes drink you in.

It’s almost obscene, the way he’s looking at you; feral, hungry. As if you’re prey he can’t wait to devour.

You wonder if the same look is reflected in your eyes as you observe him; legs trembling not only due to his touch, but also with the anticipation of what he will do to you.

Biting your lip, you stifle another moan as he pushes his digits into you.

He’s slow at first, carefully gauging your reaction to see just what hits the right spots. When a particular thrust of his fingers has you gasping and holding onto his shoulder, he only smirks, curls his fingers, and aims at the spot ferociously.

Burying your face into his neck, you muffle your gasps against his skin as he continues pushing into you, drawing you closer to your edge by the second.

Frantically, you grasp at his wrist to stop him before you’re too far gone. Your heartbeat is pulsing in your eats, your lungs constrict as you hold your breath in an attempt to calm down.

Peter withdraws his hand and rests it on your back, an action that inexplicably soothes you.

You would love to just reach down and grab his dick, but you need just one more bout of confirmation.

“Please.”, you gasp against throat. “Please tell me you want me.”

He let’s out a chuckle, amused, and repeats your words back to you. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

With that, he reaches between you both to shove down his boxers and pull out his dick.

It springs free already fully hard, drops of precum glistening at the tip and you feel as if you’ve never known desire until this very moment.

You don’t think you can wait any longer, and thankfully, neither does Peter.

Holding his dick up at the base, he uses his other hand to grab onto your hips and guide you until you’ve aligned your entrance to his tip.

Wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself, you slowly sink down onto him.

Guttural moans of pleasure rip through both of you as you take him in; each divine inch stretching you further and further; reaching a depth in you that has your whole body trembling.

You settle into his lap, his dick fully sheathed inside you, and waste no time in moving your hips.

At first Peter just watches as you slide yourself onto him again and again; when your rhythm becomes sloppy, he grabs your hips aggressively and guides your movements until you’re both gasping with content.

Surging forward, his lips capture yours once again in an attempt to quiet you both; both of you not stalling even for a moment as you chase your release.

“Remember when I said I heard a lot about you?”, he says against your lips.

“Yeah.”, you breathe. A brief flicker of excitement passes your eyes as you think back to your school days. “What’d you hear about me?”

Suddenly, Peter stills. His grip on you tightens to hold you in place, preventing you from further riding him.

For a moment, you think you’ve fucked up, that maybe that wasn’t the direction he wanted to take his statement.

“God, listen to you.”, he interrupts your thoughts. “You know exactly what was said about you.”

Slowly, he pulls you closer until his dick is fully sheathed, then withdraws again.

His shoulders shake as he laughs into your ear, almost tauntingly. “Yet you still want to hear me say it, don’t you?”

You bite your lip. You didn’t expect him to read you so accurately, but you admit, it’s really fucking hot.

He lifts his own hips and thrusts hard into you from below, before stilling once again.

With a gasp you fall against him; breathing heavy as you adjust to the sudden intrusion.

“Want me to say how much of a slut you were?” One of his hands reaches between you again, fingers directly moving to rub at your clit,

You hum softly as bouts of pleasure overtake you.

“Want to hear me say how I dreamt of finally getting my turn? Of shoving my cock down your throat?” His other hand lifts up to your throat, pressing around it firmly as his thumb presses your chin up, granting him access to more space.

He pushes forwards to mouth at the skin, no doubt leaving marks.

With your mind in a haze, you softly choke out: “You did?

Grinning, Peter bites at you softly.

His fingers flick roughly against your clit; building momentum by the minute.

“I even had to listen to other guys talk about fucking this tight little pussy of yours.”

He stops toying with your clit suddenly, instead withdrawing his hand to slap harshly against your ass cheek.

You yelp out in surprise, grabbing onto his shoulders for balance.

Using the opportunity, he hitches your legs around his waist before standing up abruptly and pinning you to the door.

“What are you-?”

“Do you know how fucked up that was?”, he interrupts. “Hearing them talk. Knowing I didn’t stand a chance.”

Slowly, agonizingly slow, he pulls out again, only to push back into you just as slowly.

“Now that I do, I’m not gonna waste it.”

All at once, he picks up a pace completely unlike before; driving into you with a force that has you seeing stars.

He picks up a rhythm quickly; each harsh thrust slamming you against the door again and again.

You barely register your back knocking against the wood; the feeling of his cock inside you, pounding into you, consumes you fully until you barely remember to keep quiet.

As if due to some wicked irony, you hear a door slam open.

Both of you still instantly, chests heaving and mind still fogged up, as you try to realize what’s happening.

You hear people chatting in the distance; the sound engulfing the church by the second.

You look at Peter, alarmed.

Sure, being found in a compromising position wouldn’t be the end for you, and normally you wouldn’t care about the consequences for the person you’re fucking.

But it’s Peter.

There’s so much more at stake for him and the ever growing noise from the people outside almost makes you regret soliciting him in the first place.

Almost.

A small smile from Peter is all it takes to wash away that worry.

“AA meeting.”, he whispers. “They’ll be gone soon.”

He must’ve not had as much fear of losing his job as you do; instead of pulling out, he drives further into you.

He secures your legs tighter around his waist, and returns one hand to circle your clit once again.

You gasp out softly, immediately biting your lip to prevent any more moans slipping out.

Peter has the audacity to smirk.

“Try to be quiet, yeah?”, he whispers into your ear as his fingers pick up pace.

You’re so aware of everything.

The heat inside the small cubicle, Peter’s smell invading your senses, the people outside, his heavenly touch affecting every part of your body.

It’s all too much and not enough.

You clench against his dick and Peter hums in response.

“Just a bit longer.”, he mumbles into the skin under your ear. “Just hold on a bit longer.”

His fingers don’t let up the slightest bit and you have to actively concentrate on not just coming right then and there.

You hear the church doors open and notice the voices getting quieter; a sure sign that they are leaving.

The instant you hear the familiar sound of the doors falling close, Peter’s grip on you tightens as he resumes the brutal pace he had previously set.

You can’t hold it back any longer and let your moans slip out as Peter rubs frantically at your clit; over and over again until you’re so. fucking. close.

You don’t even care whether anyone is still outside; witness to the sinful sounds coming from the confessional booth in the corner.

Digging your nails into his shoulders, you hold on tightly as a particular hard thrust hits the spot just right. You cry out as your orgasm washes over you; lighting up every single nerve in your body.

Grabbing the back of your head, Peter pushes your face into his shoulder to muffle your moans as he fucks you right through your orgasm.

The tightness of your clenching pussy seems to be too much for him as well. You feel his thrusts get sloppier by the second until, finally, he comes inside you with a deep groan; the veins on his dick pulsing as streaks of white paint your insides.

Spent and exhausted, Peter wraps an arm around your back to keep you in place as he sits back down and slumps against the wall. Both breathing heavily, you stay quiet for a while as you catch your breath.

He presses soft kisses against your neck as your heartbeat evens out again, and you enjoy the displays of affection for as long as you can.

Then, you mumble into the skin behind his ear. “You would have.”

Peter turns his head in question. “Hm?”

You lean back in his lap to look at him properly.

“You would’ve had a chance.”, you clarify. “Back in school.”

Peter’s eyebrows rise to his hairline as his mouth falls open in surprise. “Really?”, he asks.

“Yeah.” Amused by his reaction, you laugh softly. “Probably the biggest chance out of all of them.”

You shake your head slightly as you remember the countless glances you had snuck Peter, or all the futile attempts you’d made to catch him during a break or after class.

Similar flashbacks fill Peter’s mind you assume, as he pulls you closer and buries his head into your neck.

He groans against your skin. “Fuck.”

This just elicits another laugh out of you.

Once you’ve both calmed down – and it’s become too uncomfortable to be in the position you’re in – you softly tug Peter away from you so you can stand up.

He watches as you re-adjust your dress, pulling up the straps and smoothing down the hem in an attempt to look the same as you did when you walked in.

“So, uh-“ Peter swallows, still slumped against the wall, shirtless and looking absolutely fucked through. “I’ll see you Sunday?”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest as you open the confessional door.

Smiling almost fondly, you turn and take one last look at Peter.

 “Yeah, sure.”

Stepping out, you quietly shut the door and make your way to the exit. Taking a look around, you’re relived to see the church void of any people. Good. You doubt you did a good job staying quiet, anyway.

Reaching the church doors, your hand grasps the door handle as you hear the sound of the booth door opening and closing once again. Looking back, you see a clothed but dishevelled Peter leaning his forehead against the wood, as if trying to compose himself. A moment later, he turns his face and your eyes meet.

The corners of Peter’s mouth stretch into a grin.

He shoots you a wink.

You have a feeling you’ll amass a few more sins that you’ll need to atone for.

--

A/N: I don’t live in an English speaking country and here we don’t actually say any equivalent of “Forgive me/Bless me…”, at least I’ve never done so growing up, so idk how accurate that is lol

Hope you enjoyed! :)