⛔ this blog is 18+ !! minors and ageless blogs please dni ⛔
have some brainrot: adoptive parents ghoap
soap and ghost who are officially out. both from the military and to their families. they don't really care about the world. respectfully, fuck those cunts
married, with a house, and a fully adopted kid. a bright, spunky, amazing little five-year-old who fits right into their little family. they love him to death. dote on him in their own special riley-mactavish way.
the problems arise once their little bairn gets enrolled in school. the first few weeks go by fine, adjustment period and all. but once he's past it, the calls start coming. and after the calls there are meetings. conversations carry on for weeks on end, with no resolution in sight.
aggressive, they call him. a distraction, says another. they use the word dangerous to describe the sweet little boy sitting just outside the door. their sweet little boy. the same one that hides behind simon's leg whenever they pass a dog that's just a tad too big on the street. who licks the back of the spatula after johnny finishes mixing color into frosting.
and it's not like they were unaware of his history. they knew his mother had been abusing substances all throughout her pregnancy. knew what the state of the home was when child protection services rescued their little boy. they were well aware of what could come from it all.
what they weren't aware of was the absolute disdain that adults, more importantly, those tasked with caring for children, would have towards him. anger and disgust directed at a child who wasn't even at fault for the circumstances that led him there. just casting him aside, labeling him as defective from the beginning without even giving him a chance.
until you pop up of course. directing a particularly nasty look at the balding man who called their boy dangerous.
"he wouldn't be reacting like that if he didn't have external factors agitating him david." you speak his name as if forming each syllable was the single most disgusting act of your entire life.
the man doesn't hesitate to snarl back at you, some lousy excuse of how the world will have plenty of external factors agitating him. he simply can't coddle a child when the world won't do the same.
you claw at the armrests, glaring at him as you push yourself forward and speak through gritted teeth, "he's a goddamn child. we are the ones tasked with prepping him for the world. how the hell do you expect him to adapt if we don't even give him the skills he needs to do that?"
baldie revs himself for another go at you but the headmistress interrupts, guiding the conversation away from your tiff. the boys don't miss how you push your glasses up your nose with your middle finger. all while holding eye contact with the bald dickhead in the tweed blazer.
the conversation carries on and unceremoniously lands on the same conclusion it always does: the behavior needs to be curbed, otherwise he won't last here much longer.
they've already reigned themselves to the fact, already looking up the other schools in their area, when you stop them, holding the door as the last staff member slips out of the room.
"mr. and mr. mactavish," soap stifles a snort, "I know for a fact that conversation was completely unhelpful. frankly, a waste of your time. but I'd like just another moment with you two if that's okay with you?"
they nod, moving to sit, but you don't follow. instead, you poke your head out the door, "hey Z! So sorry you've been waiting so long buddy. I just have to talk to your daddies for a few more minutes. that alright with you?"
that makes both of them straighten. addressing him directly, not just speaking at him, while letting him know of the situation and asking for his permission? not something they'd seen from any of the school staff before.
they hear his small "yes ma'am" through the open door and you shoot him a smile before closing it. you sit yourself down in front of them, opening up a folder, "apologies again for that lot of clowns. they seem to forget that we don't come out of the womb with the emotional regulation switch flipped on"
simon grunts but it's johnny who speaks up, "didnae know youse were running a circus here."
you snort, "definitely making fools of themselves. can't say i've any tricks to make myself look as goofy as them. but," you pause as you rifle through some papers before your eyes light up, "I do have spreadsheets and timesheets!"
you lay out two stacks in front of them, "i've been tracking Zach's behavioral changes along with what we deduce were his triggers on these sheets," you tap the left most stack of blue papers, "and his medication dosage along with the time taken here."
you fold your hands, giving them a moment to absorb the information you've dropped on them. it's meticulous and incredibly well-documented. the behavioral outburst sheets even have the times and dates for each occurrence. you've also added little notes for many of the incidents. there's a 'fuck david' that you'd tried to scribble out but were not fully successful in doing so.
ghost rubs a finger across the inky mess, "he talks to you about his fits then?"
"aye, he does sir. it takes a bit of time but we manage to work through it. usually a drink of something cold and a snuggle with something soft seems to do the trick."
"oh did ye find that out on your own? am sorry. should have sent a note," soap apologizes as he rifles through his papers.
you wave him off, "no need mister mactavish. your boy is very good at communicating. it seems that the adults here just have a hard time listening."
"now," you reach across the table handing them identical sheets, "I'm thinking that both of you want to stop these oh-so-lovely monthly chats. and this," you tap your third identical paper, "is the solution for this."
"it's a joint emotional management endeavor, carried out both at home and here at school. you and your husband would be the primary handlers at home and I'll be the handler here. it's a multi-week program with a focus on reaction handling after a triggering event and exercises he can enact when overwhelmed"
there's a bout of silence as the two of them absorb everything that you've handed them. no one else, aside from family, ever offered this kind of care and handling for their boy before. to know that there's been someone not just looking out for their baby but researching ways to help him? it stirs something in both of them.
"why're you doin' this?" ghost scratches out.
you tilt your head, "mister mactavish, i'm an educator. but above else i'm a caretaker. i'm with these children almost as much as they're with you. it's my job to help shape and mold these children into the best version of themselves they can be."
"i happen to think that little boy out there deserves a chance to show the world how good he is. don’t you think so too?”
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father figure prompts pt. 3 because i just spent like an hour in his office crying
"i just had a question -- but if you're busy it's fine like i get it you're tired and -- "
^"no, no, absolutely not, come in. you don't tire me."
"oh god when i get my hands on your dad -- "
"i'm sorry -- "
^"for what? you didn't do anything."
"and it's such a bad grade and -- "
^"you wanna see something?" (pulls out his own high school grades and him and mc make fun of them for like 10 minutes)
"come on, it's you. you can probably figure this out in what, five minutes?"
"go. play outside. have fun. or i'll tell your whole class that you're such a nerd that you sleep in school."
^"may i offer a bribe?"
^"a cookie doesn't sound bad."
^"ha. trust if i had a cookie i would be eating it. i love cookies."
^"ok if you go outside and have fun for twenty minutes i'll buy you a cookie."
"why don't you go get coffee with them?"
^"...no money."
^"oh, you could have asked." *takes money out of his wallet*
^"no i wouldn't want to be a burden -- "
^"stop. and if you even suggest paying me back i'm failing you."
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dol workplace malpractice (aka literal nsfw)
You're stuffed underneath Avery's desk, listening to him drone on about "profit margins" and "liabilities" and other boring business terms. He's talking on speakerphone so he can press the back of your head, pushing his cock further into your mouth, shooting you a look when you audibly choke. He smirks when he sees tears form in your eyes, though. Your knees chafe against the rough carpet as you try to fit more of his shaft into your mouth, idly wondering how many others have knelt in this same position.
You’re straddling Harper’s lap, both of you squeezed into his desk chair, the way he likes it. His lips are all over yours and his hands are tangled in your hair. The doctor grinds his crotch against yours, smiling against your mouth when he hears you gasp - the thin fabric of your gown leaves little to the imagination. "Good work," he murmurs against your skin. "Why don't you show me what else you've learned in treatment?
Your thigh presses against Mason's, even though there's more than enough room on the locker room bench for the both of you. Your teacher is biting on his hand to keep moans from slipping out as your own hand works his cock. No one is in the pool right now, but that doesn't stop him from being anxious. "You'd better hurry up and finish," you say teasingly, enjoying how his face manages to get even redder. "Lunch is almost over. You wouldn't want to be caught like this with a student, would you?"
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