#kinda like a ‘oh yeah I made this and the fact I made it is special enough’

[cameronsbabydoll]

EXECUTIVE PRIVILEGE

CHAPTER FOUR ᝰ.ᐟ LATE NIGHT CALL

WARNINGS ᝰ.ᐟ alcohol mention, rafe being condescending and rude, bitterness toward women/ex-wife, power imbalance, slow burn tension. he’s kinda funny in a very petty manner

SUMMARY ᝰ.ᐟ when eli needs help with his literacy reflection, you expect to talk to the nanny — not rafe cameron himself. instead, he calls directly, leaning into his usual condescending, arrogant persona.

the first ring of your phone nearly makes you jump out of your skin. it’s late—too late for a parent to be calling—and you’re halfway convinced it’s a mistake. but then you see the name flashing across your screen: rafe cameron.

you hesitate. usually, any concerns about eli came through eli’s nanny, not directly from his father. in fact, rafe had made it very clear, in that condescending tone of his, that his time was “far too valuable to be trading pleasantries with teachers every other day.”

still, you answer. “mr. cameron?”

“ms. y/l/n.” his voice comes through smooth, low, and tired, but not without that usual bite. “good, you’re awake.”

you glance at the clock. “it’s almost eleven.”

“yeah, well.” you hear the faint clink of glass, the lazy drawl of a man who knows he should be asleep but isn’t. “my son’s still up. said he needed help with some project—something about reading logs or… whatever it is you people assign. figured you’d be the expert, sweetheart.”

your eyebrows shoot up. “it’s called a literacy reflection, and it was sent home two weeks ago. i gave very clear instructions in his folder—”

“right,” he cuts you off smoothly, a smirk audible in his voice. “the infamous folder. trust me, sweetheart, i’ve seen it. full of bright papers, stickers, all very… elementary. i don’t exactly keep tabs on what gets pulled out of eli’s backpack every afternoon.”

you bite your tongue. “perhaps you should.”

there’s a pause, then the faint sound of him chuckling. “careful. you almost sounded like my ex-wife just now.”

the words hang there, heavy and cutting.

you clear your throat, pushing past it. “if eli needs clarification, i’d be happy to walk him through it. usually the nanny helps, but—”

“the nanny’s off,” he interrupts again. “and apparently i’m the only one available. so you’ll have to walk me through it.”

you sit back in your chair, staring at the ceiling. “mr. cameron, with all due respect—”

“there it is.” he sounds almost smug, like he’s been waiting to hear that phrase. “you teachers love that line, don’t you? ‘with all due respect.’ as if it cushions the judgment.”

“i’m not judging,” you snap before you can stop yourself.

“sure you are,” he drawls. “i can hear it in your voice. you think i’m some negligent parent, too busy counting money to sit down with a second-grader and a stack of books.”

you don’t answer right away. because the truth is… he isn’t wrong.

you hear him shift, leather creaking faintly under his weight, and picture him leaning back in some massive chair, drink in hand, eyes half-lidded and amused at your silence.

“ms. y/l/n,” he says finally, voice dropping low, smug. “are you still there? or did i lose you to that little apartment of yours?”

your jaw tightens. “how would you know where i live?”

“please.” you can hear the smirk. “i make it my business to know. teachers aren’t exactly hard to track. one of eli’s little friends at school mentioned you live near the bus stop on ashland. modest place, right? cozy. bet you’ve got more books than furniture.”

heat rises in your face. “that’s—”

“cute,” he says simply. “very on brand for you.”

you exhale slowly through your nose, trying to center yourself. “are we going to talk about your son’s assignment, or are you going to keep criticizing my living situation?”

“can’t i do both?”

the worst part: you can hear the faint sound of his smirk stretching wider across the line.

“fine,” you snap, a little breathless, “let’s talk about the assignment then.”

“oh, please,” he scoffs, low and teasing. “don’t act like you actually enjoy this. teaching second grade at eleven at night, in your apartment lit by that sad little lamp of yours…” his tone drips condescension. “…i can hear it from here. i can practically smell the ramen you’ve been eating for dinner.”

you pause, blinking, “i made soup.”

“soup?” his voice rises, incredulous. “from a can, no doubt. or maybe just hot water and a sad little cube of… whatever passes for flavor in your world.”

your fingers tighten around your pen. “it’s homemade.”

“sure, sure,” he murmurs, mockingly placating, “homemade. of course it is. like everything else you do, perfectly modest. i bet the view from your window is exciting too — streetlights, the occasional stray cat. thrilling.”

“i can hear the smile in your voice,” you mutter, and for a second he actually laughs — soft, amused, entirely too confident.

“ah, now we’re talking,” he says, leaning back further in the leather chair you can almost feel under his weight. “you’re finally engaging with me. though, let’s be honest — your apartment couldn’t possibly contain all that charm.”

you roll your eyes, voice sharper now. “i’m not here to charm you, mr. cameron. eli’s literacy reflection—”

“right. eli. the project that supposedly can’t be completed without my divine guidance,” he interrupts, tone sarcastic, playful. “i can see why the nanny is off. she’d just coddle him, feed him ideas, pat him on the head. me? apparently, i’m the expert.”

“he needs help understanding the reflection questions,” you explain, ignoring the jab at your living space. “can we just—”

“fine, yes, yes,” he sighs, a little too dramatic. “read me the first one. enlighten me, ms. y/l/n. show me how your brain comprehends the needs of my son.”

your lips press into a thin line. “he’s asking about his favorite part of the book he read last week. i want him to answer in full sentences, not just say ‘i liked it’ and be done.”

“oh.” his voice lowers, mock-serious now. “so this is a character development exercise. fascinating.”

“exactly.” you grit your teeth. “and he struggles to expand on his ideas sometimes, so guiding him is—”

“tedious,” he finishes for you, the smirk audible, “i get it. yes. guiding children. the ultimate parental burden. somehow i survived my ex-wife and her endless book clubs and shopping sprees, and now i get to navigate a second-grader’s reflections. life is hard, isn’t it?”

your hand tightens on the phone. “mr. cameron—”

“don’t ‘mr. cameron’ me,” he snaps lightly, amused by his own bite. “i’m trying to help you help my son. don’t make me regret it. seriously. i could’ve been on the balcony, overlooking the city, sipping something smooth while thinking about mergers, acquisitions, billion-dollar decisions, instead of… this.”

you take a deep breath. “so we start with the first question: why did you like the book?”

he sighs, an exaggerated groan that makes you roll your eyes in frustration. “fine. eli, your teacher says you have to explain yourself in complete sentences. now, tell me—why did you like your book?”

a pause. you hear eli’s small, hesitant voice. “i liked it because george was funny, and he went to the zoo, and… um… the monkey was… curious?”

“curious,” rafe repeats flatly, like tasting a word he finds odd. “yes. george, curious. see, he’s learning adjectives now. probably learned them from his mother, right? or was that the nanny’s doing?”

“his mother isn’t here,” you snap, sharply, “so we’re focusing on him.”

“sure, sure,” rafe mutters, but you can hear the half-smirk returning. “just pointing out the obvious. i don’t like to lie about obvious facts. keeps life interesting.”

you grit your teeth. “let’s move on.”

and yet… he leans in — figuratively, across the phone line — listening to every answer, prodding just enough to challenge eli to elaborate. he doesn’t soften, doesn’t coddle, but he pushes, gently, cruelly, in that exact way that forces progress.

“hm,” he says after the third question. “so george went to the zoo. he saw animals. he learned stuff. and… you liked that?”

“yes, dad,” eli answers, a little more confident this time.

“curious little boy,” rafe mutters. “he probably inherited that from—” his voice cuts off, almost bitter, like thinking of his ex-wife is a flavor he can’t quite swallow. “never mind.”

you don’t comment, because you can hear it — the tension, the history, the bitterness dripping in that single clipped word. it’s enough to make your stomach flip, but also… intriguing.

he shifts, you imagine the glass in his hand tilting slightly, the faint clink of ice, the echo in that enormous mansion bedroom. “you know,” he continues, “it’s funny. you’re sitting there, in that little apartment, helping my son at midnight. i’m… well, i’m sitting in the best chair in the city, drinking something good, thinking about how little you understand how easy your life could be.”

“and yet you called me,” you point out, voice low but firm. “you could have asked the nanny. you could’ve handled it yourself.”

“ah,” he hums, slow, deliberate. “you noticed that? clever. yes, i could’ve handled it. but then i’d miss your little commentary, wouldn’t i? the sound of your voice explaining things like you’re some tiny oracle of literacy.”

you flush, trying not to react. “i’m not an oracle. i’m a teacher.”

“details, details,” he says, almost mockingly. “doesn’t change that you’re efficient. precise. and terrifyingly… principled.”

you bite your lip. “i’m just doing my job.”

“ah, yes. your job. noble, quiet, in a cramped little apartment. mine? juggling empires, ex-wives, my son, and apparently… your endless patience.”

he pauses. you can almost hear him sipping the drink now, letting the ice settle. “i could hang up anytime,” he murmurs, “but i’m not. because you intrigue me. and, apparently, eli does too.”

you grip the phone, exhale, and try to focus. “we still need to finish the reflection.”

“yes, yes,” he hums, mock-serious, leaning back, smirk audible. “let’s continue this epic saga of a second grader’s thoughts.”

“all right,” you say, trying to steady your voice, “next question: what did you learn from the story?”

eli hesitates, and rafe interjects before you can guide him. “hm? tell me, little man. what pearls of wisdom did george impart upon you?”

“he learned to share with his friends,” eli mumbles, quiet but firmer than before.

“ah, sharing,” rafe echoes, almost tasting the word. “so he’s learning cooperation, teamwork… hmm. sounds suspiciously like my ex-wife taught him that lesson too, doesn’t it? except she did it in a more… tedious, long-winded way.”

you bite back a sharp retort, focusing on eli. “just repeat the sentence fully, please.”

“why are you so strict?” eli asks, frowning.

“because your father insists,” you answer lightly, trying to keep the tone playful but firm.

“ah, yes. strictness. that old chestnut,” rafe mutters. “i come from a long line of people who know that rules exist for a reason. unlike some… well, never mind.”

eli giggles softly, and you hear rafe’s smirk through the phone. “yes, there it is. laughter. precious. i suppose it makes all this tedious guidance worthwhile.”

“mr. cameron,” you say, voice tight, “please focus. it’s just a reading reflection.”

“focus? right,” he hums, mock annoyance heavy in his words. “i’m focusing. very… seriously. nothing distracts me more than the sound of your little voice scolding me. truly, the epitome of discipline.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re impossible.”

“impossible? why, thank you,” he replies dryly, and you swear you can hear the chuckle, slow and deliberate. “i do try, sweetheart. honestly, someone has to balance the chaos. otherwise, eli would run wild, and the world would crumble under unchecked second-grade energy.”

“he’s a child, not a dictator,” you snap, exasperated.

“child, dictator—semantics,” rafe drawls. “i prefer efficiency. learning. structure. all that tedious adult nonsense.”

eli sighs. “i don’t like tedious stuff.”

“hm,” rafe murmurs, low and deliberate. “neither do i, son. neither do i. which is why i’ve spent decades building a life that avoids it whenever possible. unlike some, sitting in a cramped apartment at midnight, grading papers by lamplight.”

your cheeks flush, and you bite your lip. “you’re condescending.”

“true,” he admits easily, smugly, sipping from the glass. “i am. but consider it… honest condescension. truth, wrapped in a velvet glove of charm. see, that’s where you differ from the rest of your kind. you listen. you push back, but you… stay engaged. admirable, really.”

eli giggles again. “dad’s funny.”

“hm, i am,” rafe agrees, smirk audible. “funny, devastatingly intelligent, occasionally bitter from failed relationships. all rolled into one complex package. your mother’s influence aside, i’d say your genetics are… promising.”

“mr. cameron!” you hiss softly, trying not to laugh despite yourself.

“what? it’s true,” he murmurs, low and teasing. “you can hear it in every word i say. efficient, precise, principled, and now… apparently, entertained by this little midnight escapade.”

you let out a breath, exasperated but secretly aware of the pull of his voice, the way he’s leaning back, the faint clink of his ice echoing in your imagination. “we’re still not finished.”

“no, we’re not,” he hums, voice dropping. “but let’s pause for a second. you, in your apartment, juggling papers and late-night soup. me, in my palace, bourbon in hand, listening to you. tell me again why this is so… unequal?”

“it’s not about inequality,” you say, trying to sound firm. “it’s about… teaching a child responsibility.”

“hm,” he murmurs. “responsibility. yes. and yet, here we are, and i’m enjoying every second of it. funny how that works, isn’t it?”

you bite your lip. “you’re impossible.”

“perhaps,” he admits, voice smooth, deliberate. “but you’re engaged. and intrigued. don’t deny it, sweetheart.”

you inhale sharply, exhale slowly. “let’s finish the reflection.”

“of course,” he murmurs, almost reluctantly. “but just know, every word you say, every sigh, every correction—it’s… memorable. yes, memorable. and that, my dear, is why i keep this call going long past any rational hour.”

“all right,” you say, forcing a steadying breath, “final question: what’s one thing you’d do differently if you were george?”

eli thinks for a moment. “i’d… share more. and maybe tell the monkey it’s okay to be curious.”

“hm,” rafe murmurs, almost approvingly. “curiosity. bold, daring, slightly reckless. good lesson. your son has a good head on his shoulders, i’ll give him that. better than some… well, never mind.”

you sigh, tension in your chest easing slightly. “there. we’re done. reflection complete.”

“done?” he echoes, tone both amused and reluctant. “already? just when things were getting interesting. when i was finally hearing your voice scold me, tease me, correct me… and now it’s over?”

“yes,” you say firmly, hiding a small smile. “eli’s done. and so should you.”

“hm,” he hums, leaning back with a sigh you can practically feel. “very well. but, just so you know, this little midnight escapade has… lingered. not unpleasantly. curious, isn’t it, how quickly a teacher’s voice can worm its way into one’s… thoughts.”

you bite your lip, cheeks warming. “mr. cameron…”

“don’t,” he interrupts, low, smirk evident in his voice. “call me that. it’s late. i’ll allow your annoyance to linger a little longer instead. consider it my gift.”

eli’s small voice pipes up, sleepier now, “goodnight, dad.”

“goodnight, son,” rafe replies softly, and for a fraction of a second, you hear something warmer, something beneath the carefully constructed arrogance and bitterness. then the smirk returns. “and goodnight, ms. y/l/n. try not to burn your apartment down with all that late-night work. wouldn’t want your heroic little lamp to go up in flames.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head. “i’ll survive. goodnight, mr. cameron.”

“hm,” he hums one last time, a contented, lazy sound. “goodnight.”

and then the line clicks, leaving you with silence, the faint echo of his voice lingering in your mind. you sink back into your chair, exhale slowly, and can’t help the small, reluctant smile tugging at your lips. he’s impossible, infuriating, condescending… and yet somehow, undeniably memorable.

you glance at the clock. nearly midnight. your apartment feels smaller somehow, cozier, filled with the echo of a voice that shouldn’t matter as much as it does. and for the first time that evening, you allow yourself to admit… that you’re looking forward to the next time he calls.

[kozachenko]

[Click for Better Quality]

Nina my delusional conspiracy theory obsessed QUEEN I love you

Artist's Notes;

Oh ZUN, you can't just have your character who sits in a clam shell have a pose reminiscent to The Birth of Venus and expect no one to notice. I literally got this drawing done in a few hours today because I KNEW I needed to capitalize on this detail before anyone else drew her. I only really gave her some sandals because the balance of the colours felt off without them but man I like how my drawing of her turned out a lot.

So if any of you are familiar with art history, yeah, I literally just put her in the Birth of Venus painting but without the other figures because I'll be honest I straight up did not feel like drawing more than one figure again and I wanted Nina to be the star so sorry lol. The fucking hands were a nightmare in the beginning though, and I was too prideful to trace them from the original painting so it took me a few tries to get the hands how I wanted them, though I am very happy with how they turned out! Nina's dress gave me so much fucking trouble though, because I had to find a good way for the fabric of the skirt to flow, and I still wanted the anatomy I worked so hard on to be visible and readable, so I ended up taking some liberties with the cut of the skirt part of the dress. I made it more form fitting, with a slit on the side for the legs to be seen. I also like how even in her original design the frills on the dress really added a nice shell-like look to the dress and I wanted to retain that. Sadly I had no fucking clue what to do with the weird mirage thing she has in the original render of her, so I just opted to exclude it. I was more focused on highlighting the Birth of Venus part of the drawing, as even the style of her hair is reminiscent of the original painting.

I approached the rendering similarly to how I did it in my last piece, going for a very painterly look, it's also the first time in a while I've done a proper background in a drawing so YIPEEE! I did not go super detailed with the trees and plants, they just needed to be there to serve the composition, but I'm happy with how the water and sky turned out. The shell was fun to do though, as I heavily referenced how the shell was drawn in the original painting to get a better idea on how to draw it, and honestly I'm glad I took the time to study the original painting because I did learn new things about why the composition worked the way it did in that painting.

Now onto Nina herself, my darling, the newest addition to my favourite Touhou character collection. The outfit reminded me of Eika Ebisu a bit, probably because of the frills, but I think it's kinda interesting how two of the Touhou girlies with aquatic themeing (Eika being Jellyfish and Nina being clams) both kinda have a similar style. Also, her theme fucking slaps, it's so good I love it. And the fact that her spell cards represent different conspiracy theories? Mwah! Chef's kiss!

I think it would also be really funny if Nareko and Keiki just can't stand her at all. Nareko would have to lecture Nina about how the pyramids were not in fact, built by aliens and would give her a comprehensive history on how the pyramids were built, and Keiki would be really annoyed at how insistent she is that her Kofun Tomb "looks just like a weird mountain on mars, therefore it has to be a portal to there, and was built by aliens!" to which Mayumi would be the one thing keeping Keiki from turning Nina into a clay idol. She'd also be so stocked to meet Nue and Chimi, and she'd absolutely try talking to them for hours, believing every single word they say regardless of whether it was true or not.

Also I SHIPPED ASANINA BEFORE IT WAS COOL-

[sturnstape]

── ⋆ ‘ first meetings and dr thunder ‘ ﹒﹒

ᯓ floorworker!matt seems to be making silly mistakes in storemanager!readers eyes.

warnings ﹕ fluff? , floorworker!matt , still storemanager!reader but this is their introduction pre promotion ; so floorsupervisor!reader , second-hand embarrassment , brief cussing , brief mention of substance , brief mention of alcohol , horrible writing :p wc ﹕ 2.0k

working at cloud 9—or any minimum wage job for that matter, was absolute shit. you could at least admit that much. unfortunately, some people get stuck with trying to make it till next paycheck, and that’s life. all you could do was mourn what you couldn’t have.

you always felt a pang of failure in your chest whenever someone would come in asking for an interview, solely because that’s how you felt about yourself.

people lied. being floor supervisor is not better than floor worker, because the only plus side is directing people and them having to take it. the pay is relatively the same.

you were standing behind the jewelry counter, having a one-sided disagreement with an old lady who was persistent in the fact that the jewelry that was actually made from silver should have the same price tags as the jewelry made from plastic, often having tacky heart shaped “diamonds” on them. you kept your cool while she scoffed occasionally, ultimately giving up and slowly rolling her cart away with a scowl.

the fake smile planted on your face dropped as her presence diminished. you rubbed your hands down your face, spinning slowly before spotting your boss jotting down things on a clipboard on the other end of the counter. a smile of relief flashed on your face before speaking.

“glenn, i’m taking a much needed mental break.” you said, already sliding out of your blue work vest. he smiled over at you, nodding along.

you slung the vest over your forearm, walking around the counter and making your way to the break room—very inconveniently on the other end of the store. you felt inconvenienced a lot while working, to be honest.

on the way over, you passed by a little boy whining up at his mother, who genuinely looked one more cry away from blowing up. you also spotted a man spraying more than enough sunscreen on his left arm.. just the left. he was shiny, practically luminescent if you will.

a continuous dull thud caught your attention, hesitantly turning your head towards the sound. you watched in annoyance as a man cautiously walked away from the scene of the crime. crime meaning grabbing a pack of toilet paper from the middle of the stack, causing a third of them to topple over onto the dirty floors.

“usually the best rolls are on the top!” you let out a frustrated huff, before begrudgingly walking over to the display. your vest was discarded on the column of the stack that was still intact while you started to collect the packages of angel soft off the sterile white tile.

to your luck, what you originally thought was a blessing from above came over and immediately started helping. “wait, wait, let me help.” the unnamed man said, grabbing rolls and holding them in his arms.

“it’s fine, really, i got-“ you try to say, already stacking some of them back up. your movements slowed a little though.

the man cut you off, looking up at you from his spot where he was crouched on the floor, picking up more packages. “no, please, i work here so… kinda my job to help customers.” he huffs a laugh, rising to his feet.

you froze, eyebrows furrowing. you have never seen this man in the ten years you’ve been here. ever. what on earth was going on?

“work here? when?” it came out with pure confusion laced throughout.

“uhm.. now, it’s actually my first day—as of… five minutes ago.” he shrugs, smiling slightly.

you blink slowly. okay then. you nod with a small ‘oh’ slipping past your lips.

“i uhm.. i know i don’t seem like the type to work here,” he keeps digging his hole deeper. you smile softly. it’s slightly aggravating to hear him talk.

“oh, yeah, totally. this place is just… so, so, horrible.” you offer a sweet smile, playing along just to watch his ultimate downfall. “i mean you just look super—super educated and put together opposed to.. yknow.” you shrug, nodding your head to the very pregnant lady squatting to grab something off the bottom shelf.

you knew her, obviously. cheyanne wouldn’t care anyway, she loves humiliating cocky people just as much as you do.

“oh, right. i know your like— complimenting me, but i don’t know, it might sound condescending in a way?” he says as if he hasn’t already been condescending this whole time unknowingly.

“of course, you’re so right. i wouldn’t want to sound condescending infront of someone who works at this awesome place.” the emphasis on ‘works’ slips past him, going unnoticed.

bless cheyanne for her timing though, because right at that moment, she comes waddling over with more urgency than normal—hand on the top of her belly. she has a look on her face that reads desperate. “do you think i can take five? my bladder is being abused and i can’t hold it any longer.” she sounds like a rapper with how fast shes talking.

“yes, of course.” and “im not actually in charge-“ are spoken at the same time, from two different people.

“i’ll pull harley from her break, feel free to take as much time as you need.” you finish, smiling as cheyanne offers a quick thanks and waddles away with utmost speed a pregnant woman can have. you turn around slowly, your soft smile turning into a smug one.

it’s quiet for a beat, before he sighs. “you work here.” he says sheepishly.

“now you got it. hey, uhm… maybe next time don’t speak so highly of yourself around other workers, it might come off as condescending?” the sarcastic advice comes quickly as you grab your vest from the stack and throw it back on over your shoulders, adjusting the name tag slightly. you hum slightly.

“welcome to cloud 9!” you offer a quick greeting, before scurrying off down one of the aisles, looking behind you to see the man’s face remain stuck in a humiliated expression. suddenly, the need for a mental break was gone, and now you felt pride being placed upon your shoulders.

the rest of the week went by as smoothly as it possibly could. you helped out with training another new worker, plus the cocky man from monday—to which you later learned his name was matt.

you laughed under your breath everytime you caught a glimpse of his hands occasionally bumping into something or getting his fingers pinched when he was told to even out one of the shelves in cosmetics. his yelp peaking through his otherwise manly voice was quite humorous.

you noticed he befriended another coworker, garrett, relatively quickly. most new hires took atleast two weeks before getting comfortable, but it seemed easy for matt.

he ended up apologizing the day after for being a quote unquote elitist, and you simply shrugged, humming into the paper cup as you took a slow sip of overly sweetened coffee. to be fair, the coffee in the break room tasted like cardboard so the vanilla bean creamer was the only flavor anyone would actually want to have. oh, and the other new hire broke into song while introducing himself. two very odd things happening a minute apart from one another.

the frequent beep of the price reader rang out every few seconds as you scanned each individual barcode on every pair of lawn clippers. you didn’t notice matt approaching until he cleared his throat.

“hey, uhm… can we start over? i feel like a jerk.” he said hesitantly, burying his hands deep into the pocket of his faded black hoodie. his lips twitched up slightly when you glanced at him, expression unreadable, and nodded.

“great, so, names.” seriously what is he talking about? this guy has got to be the weirdest person you’ve ever come across, and you once watched a pharmacist restock the advils with small plush unicorns. he genuinely might’ve been on some drug himself.

“i’m matthew, and you’re cassie,” matt starts, gesturing to your name tag awkwardly. you glance over at him again, this time fully turning towards him after a beat.

“oh, actually, no. the name tags a diversion. i hate when people address me like we’ve had a glass of wine together.” you correct, handing him the scanner you were previously holding. he takes it with a single raised brow, confusion etched on his face.

“so like… a stripper…?” he asks, gripping the scanner a little tighter as your expression drops.

“did you just compare me to a stripper?” you clarify, taking your turn to raise a brow. he clears his throat, nodding at the realization of the completely outlandish analogy, though one would argue it wasn’t that outlandish.

“come on, matt, you’re learning price drops today.” you say, patting his shoulder awkwardly before walking past him.

while walking towards electronics, you kindly offer tips on how to not have as stressful of a day and advice on certain coworkers and how they function. he seemingly just watches you the whole time, and you think he’s paying attention.

stopping by the end cap that displays gaming keyboards—plucking the scanner from his hand. he stops right next to you, and if you stepped an inch closer, your shoulders would be touching.

“all gaming electronics are ten percent off today, but the pos system is down, so you’re learning how to do it manually. pay attention, i don’t wanna explain twice” you sigh, looking down at the device in hand.

as you teach him how to mark an item down, all matt can bring himself to do is watch your expression. you’re completely locked in on the task at hand, and he notices the slight tightening of your brows as you sift through the contents on the scanner.

“matt.” your voice breaks him out of his momentary trance, eyes locking on yours as you stare right back. “i said pay attention.” the subtle roll of your eyes brings a faint blush to his cheeks.

“right, sorry.” he mutters, actually focusing this time around. he was totally lost anyway.

the next week went by smoother than last. matt was finally starting to get a feel on how retail worked, barcodes and all. lunch breaks were timed more accurately, and his awkwardness was still bad, just not as bad. you hated to say you were slightly proud.

you pointed out the camping section to a woman in purple suspenders, looking for a new fishing rod. you meet the most diverse people here.

waving neighborly at her as she walked off, you noticed the subtle peace in the air. it was quieter than usual. your eyebrows furrowed, spinning to look around before spotting matt on a step ladder a few aisles down. that’s when it hit you. it was quiet because he was actually… focused, maybe?

you hummed, your legs already moving in his direction on their own. your hands were behind your back in a tight clasp as you stared at the array of cans on display. “impressive.” you mutter from behind, causing matt to jump slightly.

his face brightened a smidge when he noticed it was you. “you think? i made him sad because it’s how i felt after being mean.” he admitted with a shrug, also joining in on the observation of his artwork.

“you’re still stuck on that? corny.” you huff, glancing up at him before drifting your gaze back at the giant array of cans shaped as a sad frown. he clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

you know how you said his awkwardness wasn’t as bad earlier? yeah, take that back. like, now.

“hmm.. and what happens when a customer wants a can of dr thunder, instead getting crushed under hundreds of la croix?” you ask, noticing how the darker cans were secluded under multiples of yellow and blue cans.

his face drops slightly, before raising a finger and pointing at the sad face of aluminum. you can’t help but chuckle slightly, before nodding and turning on your heel to assist someone elsewhere. matt stares after you, a warm feeling spreading through him at the sound of the genuine laugh.

you think he could improve well here, maybe learn productive ways of working.

matt thinks he’s completely screwed, rubbing his hand on his slight stubble. this girl is gonna kill me.

sturnstape™

[fi1iat3rra3]

sum; DI!Leon as your dad's bsf because I'm going literally insane. Not much plot, I just really need this man 😞

content: age gap, porn no plot, oral, fingering, unprotected sex, kinda risky late night sex, some spanking, some hair pulling, squirting

wc; 1.7k

Leon was always a gentleman. That's what made you feel less guilty about hiding things from your father. Leon treated you better than anybody else, but the age gap would definitely give your father a heart attack—oh, also the fact that he's your dad's friend.

But that didn't matter now, did it? Not when Leon had you pinned to the basement couch of your dad's home. Not when he'd been so careful not to wake up your dad on the way down the steps, ensuring he locked the basement door beforehand.

What led to this? Just a dinner. He came over for dinner, had an extra drink, and by the time he wanted to leave, it was pouring rain. Your dad suggested he stay in the guest bedroom for the night to make sure he didn't get hurt in the rain. He agreed. Only because he knew it'd lead to this moment. Only because he knew you couldn't keep your hands to yourself, and you snuck to meet Leon downstairs just after midnight when the house was asleep.

Now you were making out on the basement couch, lights dim as he hoisted you up into his arms before leaning back and holding you to straddle his lap. You eagerly obeyed, legs settled on either side of his hips. He slipped a hand between your thighs, groaning at the feeling of your panties beneath your pretty nightgown—already damp with arousal. His thumb came to tease your clit through the fabric, eliciting a whimper from you. Your body jolted against his.

"Leon—" You gasped lightly, hands clutching at his shirt.

"Yeah? What's up, princess?" He murmured, kissing down your neck and letting his other hand come to grope your breasts through your nightgown.

"Ah—please.." you trailed off, knees going weak at the way he was touching you.

"Please? Please stop? Please don't? Please keep going? What do you need?" He taunted, pulling his hands from your body. You let out a small, stifled cry, hips bucking to seek friction.

"Need you." You whined, leaning in to bury your face in his neck, hips pushing down to pressing firmly against his length through his sweats. He hissed lightly at the pressure, a soft exhale following. Leon lifted your hips and lifted your nightgown enough to reveal the round flesh of your ass, covered by your panties. He groped and squeezed for a moment while his lips remained focused on your neck and collarbone.

"What do you need, princess? Tell me exactly what you need." He prodded, grinning mischievously before he landed a slap to your ass. You yelped slightly, jolting against him.

"Youu," you whined. "Just.. you. I don't care."

"You're so shy before we get to the fun stuff. Don't you know how gross your words get once you're let loose?" He teased. You frowned at him, cheeks flushing. "You act like you haven't begged for it when we go to my place."

"Shut uppp," you pushed his face to the side and pressed your body snug against his, face burying against his shoulder once more.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll have my mouth busy soon." He murmured, his breath ghosting over your ear before he lifted you easily as he stood up. He sat you back down on the couch, pushing your nightgown up past your hips and kneeling in front of you. You shuddered at the sight, breath hitching as he spread your legs wide, leaving you on display for him.

He leaned in, kissing over the fabric of your panties. You swallowed harshly. His tongue dragged along your mound, and as he reached the damp spot, he listened to you gasp with a shiver. He hummed, pleased at the sensitivity you responded with.

"No matter how often we do this, you're always so sensitive. So easy to break."

With his words, he notched two fingers onto the gusset of your panties, tugging them to the side. You expected a warning. He always gave a warning.

Not this time.

His tongue delved between your folds, wasting not a second as his tongue pushed inside, causing your hips to jolt with a squeal. He slapped your hip, making you whimper as you grabbed a pillow and buried your face into it.

"Fuck!" You gasped into the pillow, hips eagerly grinding against his face. His nose nudged your clit with each hungry movement of his mouth and his jaw.

He groaned, eyes rolling back at the taste of you. He couldn't get enough. He'd let himself suffocate in you. His tongue kept up, refusing to stop until he got you begging for more. He snaked a hand up, letting his thumb provide a better pressure for your clit. Your back arched, a sob of pleasure leaving your lips. He looked up at you, lips spreading in a dangerous grin. He could never get enough of your moans.

His tongue pulled back, only to lick a trail over your folds and landing around your clit, sucking harshly. You bucked your hips, nails clawing at the pillow you held against your face. He swatted your thigh, listening to the next delicious sob that left your lips and got eaten up by the old couch pillow. His hand swapped positions and took the previous place of his tongue, plunging two of his thick fingers inside of you. Curling them firmly, he made sure to pump his fingers just right to where he'd bully that sweet, spongy spot inside of you. Your thighs closed around his head, belly squeezing in a knot of desire.

It squeezed tighter, and tighter, and tighter...

Until his fingers synced perfectly with a harsh suck of your clit, pulling violently over the edge. Your lips fell open in a silent scream of pleasure, the pillow falling as your hands came to grasp Leon's hair, oversensivity flooding your core as he continued to bully your sensitive spots.

"Leon! Please, I—" He slowed down to a stop, huffing lightly as he retracted his fingers and pulled his face away, panting. He looked up at you, and without a word, he leaned up between your legs and tugged you into a firm, desperate kiss. The taste of your arousal was still hot on his tongue, and it made you whimper.

"God, you're so fucking hot. Can't keep quiet even when you know we have to." He teased, pulling away so he could lift you to lay you down on your front side, lifting your ass to the air as he got on top behind you on the couch. He undid the tied waistband of his sweats, pushing his pants down so he could press his cock between your folds, groaning at the sensation.

Your core squeezed around nothing, already leaking for more. He landed a slap to your ass, followed by tugging your panties down all the way to your mid thighs. He pressed his tip to your entrance, a heavy groan leaving his lips before he pressed all the way in with one smooth thrust. You yelped, hips jolting and hands clawing at the couch cushion beneath you.

"Shh, shh, you need to be quiet. Don't you know how loud you're being?" Leon cooed, leaning his head down to meet with the crook of your neck. He eased his hips back and forth, a steady grind against your g-spot. You whimpered, biting down on the fabric of the couch pillow beneath you. Leon's hands came to squeeze your ass, holding you in place before he lifted one hand and let it down with a harsh spank. You cried into the pillow.

Eyes rolled back, body trembling, back arched like never before, Leon couldn't get enough of the way you looked. He swore he would've already busted three times by now, but no, he had better control than that. You both knew that. And that's why he didn't let himself go until he had you on the edge of your third orgasm. He had to pull out during your second orgasm, knowing damn well he was too sensitive to last inside that intoxicatingly tight pussy of yours.

Now, on the edge of your third and final climax, Leon had his left hand focused on your clit with his right hand tugging your hair, keeping you from hiding your face in the pillow beyond needing to muffle your moans.

"Fuck, look at you. So fuckin' sexy. All fucked out 'n dumb, just for me." He paused, slamming his hips harder. "Just for me, right, princess?"

You nodded with a sob into the pillow, body shaking violently beneath him.

"Lemme hear it. Say it for me." He pulled your head back, and you choked back a moan.

"Yes—oh, God—yes! 'S just for you!!" You cried, and he pushed your face back into the pillow, angling himself deeper.

"Yeah. That's it. All for me. Nobody else gets this. Nobody else gets to feel you or hear you like this." He growled faintly, hips speeding up as much as he can, chasing his high.

"Mmh!! Leon—ah!—'m s-so close!" Your voice was muffled by the pillow, but he understood perfectly. He didn't stop. His right hand came down to smack your ass one final time before you both reached your highs. You came with a silent scream, hips jolting with each wave of pleasure that presented itself in the form of clear liquid spurting from your pussy. Your cries and whimpers lingered as his cock spilled inside of you. The couch was a mess. You really should've laid down a towel. Not that it would've done as much as you thought.

He leaned down and kept himself buried to the hilt, body pressed to yours as he kissed your head and neck, soothing your skin with soft brushes of his hand or soft kisses as an apology for hitting too hard or pulling your hair too much.

"Mm, you did so good for me." He murmured into your neck between the soft kisses, sighing as he eased his hips back and helped you flip over. He grinned, but without his lustful look. It was replaced by affection as he leaned in and kissed you eagerly.

"Love you," You muttered, too tired to speak properly as he held you close to his chest while he rose to his feet.

"Love you, too, princess." He cooed, leaning in to press his lips to your temple as he carried you to the basement bathroom to clean up.

[a-hazbin-spider]

So simple, but being told he was capable of the tougher life really seemed to cheer him up. Or rather, add to his joy in the moment. Alastor was bringing a light to his life so often, things he’d not soon take for granted. The other saw things about him and accepted them when others would surely want to snuff it out.

“Yeah. I can see you ain’t very surprised.” He chuckles, eyeing the glass he somehow had forgotten emptying, as it balances and refracts light around.

Seemingly he is pleased to fidget with it, easily entertained, hardly bothered by the implied hobbies in the slightest. Perhaps he is used to them, or maybe he’s just rightly accepted it as part of the package deal. “Psh! They’s breathin’ down ya neck even if you ain’t doin’ shit. But, it’s pretty annoyin’ tryin’a keep em’ off your tail. Good thing the pros- and uh- Advanced Hobbyists, got a knack for makin’ evidence magically disappear.”

He can imagine eating evidence might prove to be really rough to track, and bodies of water with the depths, vegetation and creatures all pitching in, covers traces quite nicely.

“That’s true. Not in like a mean way, honest, but yous really are slower down there. Up north is mostly where all the cities and rushin’ and shovin’ is. It’s even in the way ya talk. Not even as an accent, but, a smoother kinda way, rather than tryin’a rush and cram a lot in a short time.”

Even with gestures and signs, there is in fact a southern ‘drawl’. Deliberate, meant to be seen and understood rather than simply shot out.

Sort of like how Alastor describes his home. It is in truth, beautiful. Seeing more of the natural ebbing, the rise and fall as nature breathes. He hasn’t experienced the actual bayous, or the southern spaces in their entirety, but. He’s heard from others, seen renditions or photos, and thought the world of it. That the few places up north that were rural and otherwise left alone might be even more breathtaking. He had always thought he’d have liked to see them someday. But traveling never happened, one of the few things he wished he’d lived a little longer to see.

Oh well. Nothing to be done now. There was after all so much down here to relish in, and to take awe in.

“I know nothin could be perfect, but I can imagine that your head kept most of it based on how much you been tellin’ me just now. You have a pretty good hold on your memories. And I bet you got the things that make it feel like home. That’s really somethin’. You actually made your own neck of the woods.” One crafted lovingly, that he knew like the back of his hand, and that had been essentially a peek through his eyes. Equal parts personal as it was grand. Much like the man himself, large and intimidating as a whole, but intricate and intimate the closer to the core that you got. “You’d take me through there? I’d like that a lot, actually. Not too often I get out from the layers of concrete. And it’s interesting. I’m curious if you got any animals in there waitin’ to strike.”

Only partly a joke- Angel may not be afraid of any wildlife being present. But he was in fact curious, and excited to see what it may hold. Not like a snake bite or a death roll would kill him for good anymore. Probably not pleasant, but being dead had a perk or two in that regard.

“I’d like to see that in person, absolutely. I like hearin’ ya voice talk about it, but I think I’d like to experience that with ya. A beautiful place with an equally dashin’ guide. That’s hard to beat.”

“Oh trust me, he liked gettin’ labor outta us when he could. Not always easy to maintain a front in them times, but ya needed things to get done, needed business taken care of. But it was a lil odd, naturally bigger families aren’t common. But, it was kinda ensuring he had hands available. Someone’s gotta do the grunt work, amirite? And I mean. Some things were actually all up to me anyhow.”

Angel seems to be fine with this. Easy to admit the times were both rough, as well as opportunistic. Sharing things like this is new, but he seems happy to do so. Usually he isn’t so keen to share personal information. Even if he elects to leave a bit of it out- hate to ruin the mood after all, he finds that there is for once not much of a blockade stopping him. Especially since Alastor is kind enough to give back when he asks for things. Makes it much less like an interrogation.

“Hmm. I ain’t seen my sister. Which. That’s a good thing. She’s a sweet dame, don’t deserve to fall here, y’know? I’m glad I could keep her from the worst of it. Wanted her to have the best life I could.” There’s a beat of silence, his smile somehow lacking the bitterness for the situation. “Them other two? Pops and my brother- they’s down here, alright. I’d bet a pretty hefty number on it. You wouldn’t believe some of the shit I seen em do.”

Despite that line ending in a chuckle, he doesn’t elaborate. Instead taking interest once more in the answers to his questions. Or maybe avoiding the fact that most of it was far from funny to most people.

“Oh-ho, so you always had a steel trap for a brain. Yeesh, I’m glad you ain’t had to go nowhere like that. I’m sure yer coverage was more than they deserved anyway. I know it ain’t much comin’ from a criminal, but I never did love the laws or government up top. Good on ya, both for th’ dodge, and buildin’ yourself in an industry like that. Performin’ ain’t an easy gig.” And he would know. He was a small act once upon a time.

Speaking of easy, navigation through that jungle of concrete wasn’t easy. Especially when people travelled in swarms and flocks. Not holding a candle to southern hospitality by a long shot either. “Sure were plenty of signs, but you ain’t wrong, getting turned around could happen to anyone. It was my home turf so that’s a lil different, but the crowds would trample ya, there were factories and smog everywhere, and there was usually some kinda ruckus. The buildings were always super tall so, good luck tryin’a eyeball it.”

His eyes twinkle in amusement, the restless bounce of his leg almost aiding in an illusion of laughter.

“It was noisy. Sometimes a lil too noisy. I mean, then again, I was in a pretty batshit circle. Sweeps of gunshots are considered noisy by anyone. But Ronny makin’ a fuss down the block for the whole street to hear ain’t very rare. Bustlin’ city.”

A nod bobbles his head. “I think I’d like to actually see tha south. The heat has always been difficult fa me, but, I’m sure tha place was even prettier than tha pictures. You must’ve liked all the fresh air and lil critters crawlin’ around.”

[gazzistt]

sooo I finished Leonardo’s sequel and here are my thoughts…

so heres my honest opinion:

i’m not mad at it. honestly, i loved the story, it was really dramatic, had nice moments with the characters (although there were some that we rarely got to see)

my only thing was i thought leonardo biting mc was going to be a BIG thing. the majority of the story was leonardo lore dumping and fighting with the fact/idea of biting someone.

by the time he actually bit mc, it was very quick and not at all elaborated i thought i hallucinated it. also, that “bite” happened on chap 14 (which was the second to last chap) but then they gave us a more detailed scene in the last chapter when he finally bites her. So out of the 15 chapters with 5 parts each (75 parts total), he actually bites her in 2 parts (2/75).

i’m kinda disappointed, i thought we’d see more leonardo feigning for mc, or maybe a comment on how he’s always wanted to do this (like how he feels to finally drink her blood), or even mc biting him—but i guess those are saved for events.

leonardo’s stubbornness low-key made me mad. like this summed up his thought process up until chap 13:

mc - “would you still love me if i was a worm?”

leo - “ofc”

mc - “what about a vampire?”

leo - “… ehhhh”

and the fact that mc “had” to become a vampire because she got stabbed with syringe with that elixir of immortality? i wish sequels were longer because it didn’t seem as fleshed out as it should have been.

there was a 50/50 chance she could successfully become a vampire or she would die in a month. and even though Faust said there was no way they could make a cure in time (even if all the doctors in the game worked together), and that leonardo should just do the thing that would guarantee mc’s survival (bite her) Leonardo was like:

“oh no, we’ll def find a cure.”

spoiler, and to no one’s surprise, they did not.

it literally took mc, crying because she didn’t want to die for leonardo to be like:

“yeah, wanting you to stay human was kinda shitty of me. and i do want to spend my life with you.”

but hey! at least he got character development AND he’s self aware <3

i hope there are more events with Leonardo biting mc because i want to see more. i feel like this should’ve been a really detailed thing since he’s came so far. maybe it was in a side story but I didn’t pay attention </3

[bananaguyboi]

I love how the fandom collectively agrees that Cho sam is either a wholesome bean that must be protected at all cost, or a normal dude with no(?) personality whatsoever outside of being normal. ( Maybe he's more of a troublemaker idk, but atleast he's less worse than chung myung heh-)

And whether you think he's confident or not, You just know he'll be scared shitless of what ever the fuck is going on in Mount Hua Sect.

Anyhow, no matter what cho sam's interpretation in your mind, I need more fics, and art of him- PLEASSE🙏🙏🙏

[spotaus]

Eyy, King Reaper and his beloved Mage Geno designs <3

[weirdghostcat]

Does this overly simplified character need a character sheet? No. Did I do it anyway? Yeah, kinda.

Now I just need to put it in my pinned post... somewhere.

[hplonesomeart]

I can’t think of any funny quips to put as description for this one so uh- suppose this time around I’ll just let the art speak for itself lol

Enjoy the daily dose of fanart while it lasts because I can’t quite guarantee I’ll be able to keep up this speed throughout the upcoming month. But I’ll sure try to! Thank you all for the support <3

[heyclickadee]

Okay but for all we know Saw and his buddies picked Tech up (alive) on Eriadu.

[relicsongmel]

Guess now is as good a time as any so uh. Breaking my silence to say that I did actually somewhat enjoy Yashahime (regrettably) and I wish it was better

[kayvalencourt]

Lukas the Notable

[orions-hound]

sometimes i forget there are people who can see my posts and had to sit through me complaining about transformers periodically because i kinda forgot there were more than 3 people who view my blog. and like. can form opinions on me based off of it

[mars-ipan]

still insane to me how ppl pretend fatphobia is about health only to continue to be fatphobic when someone gains weight or even just looks somewhat fatter as a result of improving health

[cerealmonster15]

i was lookin at a few vids about the bg3 dream visitor romance [spoilers if anyone's still early game i guess lol] and like i was so shocked people were, like, so upset and betrayed when they discovered the dream visitor's true form fksdjgkdljf like okay i forgot not every corner of the internet has monsterfuckers and also i guess normies are playing this game. and ALSO it reminded me that the % of players that even have the steam achievement of sleeping w/the emperor at all is so low. 12.7%. why is everyone a coward. i'm not even a self proclaimed monsterfucker. i dont like sex and im mildly phobic of tentacles. WHY IS EVERYONE A COWARD!!!!!

tho to be fair probably a lot of ppl are also romancing a companion and wanna be faithful - ive only gotten to that scene in multiplayer where none of us were in companion romances so it was guilt free go for it see what happens, in the discord call all together LOL..... then we had a lover's spat after the raphael fight 😑