#most of them centered around the question ‘but is this consistent?’

[skeltnwrites]

The Shape of Family ‧₊˚❀༉

As a single dad, Steve’s world revolves around school drop-offs, bedtime rituals, and tee-ball practices—and he's struggling to keep up. But you're always there, happily lending a hand when he needs it most. / masterlist

part one - you find out your work crush is a dad and offer to watch his mischievous little girl so he can get some work done 5.2k

a/n - penelope is a little shit and i love her dearly, general warnings/tags here

── .✦

“Hey, sorry to bother you, Steve. I just had a quick question– but before I forget, there’s this little girl in the lobby knocking stuff over. Do you know if her parents are here?” 

“Fuck– sorry. One sec.” 

He brushes past you with an urgency that is typical of Steve. As the community outreach coordinator, he’s naturally a busy man. You haven’t known him long– just the couple of months since you became a volunteer for the local rec center– but it’s clear he’s dedicated to his work. Always zipping from one end of the building to the other, juggling class setups, organizing meetings, or hunting down the next thing that needs fixing. He tends to add more to his plate than he can carry, at least according to another staff member, which is why you’ve been assigned to help him. 

You strain to match his long strides and nearly take out a trash can when he turns a corner unexpectedly. But you can’t lose him now– someone is always nearby to steal him for paperwork or performance reviews and all you have is a quick question. 

The lobby unfortunately looks like a tornado blew through the front doors. Cabinets are thrown open, papers are scattered like leaves across the floor, and a chair has been toppled over. And said tornado has her cheek pressed to the vending machine glass, an arm twisted inside the dispenser box to reach for a loose pack of Skittles. The scene is almost amusing until you remember you’ll likely be the one to clean it up. 

“Penelope!” Steve scolds, not loud but stern enough to surprise you. He’s consistently an embodiment of gentleness– always accommodating and rarely assertive. And while he’s still gentle with her, his tone carries a weight and firmness that’s a stark departure from his usual demeanor. 

The girl, Penelope, retracts her arm and spins around to face Steve. And if it wasn’t for the shit-eating grin pinned to her face, you might’ve felt bad for getting her in trouble. 

Steve’s hands snap to his hips. “I asked you to wait in my office.” 

She shrugs, “Need a snack.”

Steve huffs and rakes a hand through his hair– a habit when he’s stressed, which is most of the time it seems. By the end of the day, his hairspray will have been combed out and Steve will argue with the strands that curl over his forehead. 

“You can have one after you clean this up and if you stay in my office.” 

“Candy?”

“No, no candy. There’s snacks in your lunchbox.” He bends to scoop up a few pamphlets to hand to her. “Or I have pretzels. Do you want that?”

She pinches a page between her nails, weighing her options. 

Steve pries tiny fingers off, “Don’t rip those. Put ‘em away please.” 

And she listens for maybe the first time ever, it seems, cramming a stack of them back on the shelf. 

You gather your own stack of handouts and press them into Steve’s sleeve. He recoils a step, his eyes widening before rapidly shutting in a moment of realization. “Sorry! You had a question- I’m sorry.” 

Penelope abandons her organizing to plant herself at Steve’s left like a sidekick– anything to get out of cleaning up. She gazes at you with a familiar pair of almond eyes and then it clicks. Her hair is the same shade of brown and her jaw, though softer, is square shaped like Steve’s. The resemblance is indisputable. 

You redirect your stare to answer Steve. “Um, yeah– I just needed to borrow the storage closet key to grab some more chairs.” 

“Oh, of course.” He pats the front pocket of his jeans. “Keys are in my office– I hope.” 

Steve marches past you once again, a new mission in mind, tugging Penelope by the wrist and toeing a cabinet shut on the way out. Penelope’s poor little legs must be tired if he always walks this fast. 

“I don’t want pretzels,” she eventually decides. 

“Then you can have what’s in your lunchbox.” He glances over his shoulder to confirm you’re in tow, “This is my daughter, Penelope, by the way.” 

“Nice to meet you, Penelope.” You wave, not that she sees. 

A braid sits high on her head, swinging like a horse's tail with each hurried step. Her faded denim overalls ride up slightly, exposing just enough ankle to show off the bubblegum pink Converse on her feet. She’s a cute little thing, button-eyed and puffy-cheeked like a cabbage patch kid. 

Steve nudges her with his hip, “Say hi.”

She throws you an impartial glance. “Hi.” 

When Steve’s office is in sight, Penelope wriggles away from his hold to sprint down the hall. On her tip-toes, she flicks on the light, letting the door slam in Steve’s face. You catch him rolling his eyes as he stops the door with his foot for you. Penelope is clambering onto his chair like it’s a race and pushing off the desk to spin as soon as she’s seated. Steve steers her out of the way to search the drawers, passing you a set of keys when he finds them. 

“Just bring ‘em back, please. Dottie found them in lost and found last week.” 

“Thanks, I will,” you promise, eyes falling over Penelope again. 

It’s your cue to leave, but your feet remain anchored to the floor. Your mind is buzzing with questions that neither of you have the time to discuss. The rational part of you knows you should exit before you let your curiosity win. Yet, you find yourself lingering in the doorway, stalling just long enough for Steve to lift an eyebrow in silent inquiry.

And before you can rule whether or not it's a good idea, you blurt out, “I can keep an eye on her if you want?” 

Penelope peaks over the back of the chair, perched on her knees so she can see. 

Steve shakes his head, “No, it’s okay. You’ve got stuff to do. And Penelope is going to be a better listener for the rest of the day, right?” He ruffles her hair, earning him a glare. 

You bite back a smile. It’s a funny thing, seeing that frown and furrowed brows that resemble Steve’s so clearly because you can’t imagine him making that face at anyone ever. It’s cute, even if it’s meant to be mean, but you would never tell her as much. 

“I really don’t mind. She could help me tape the flyers up– If she wants something to do?” You direct the last part at Penelope. To a kid, being trapped in their dad’s dusty old office is probably boredom purgatory. 

Penelope blinks at you and then Steve for permission. 

“You want to?” He asks.

She nods, then adds, “Snack too?” 

“Yes, honey.” He sighs, faint but deflated, burdened by the guilt of not feeding her sooner. Steve fishes her backpack out from under his desk. A vivid shade of pink with a Barbie patch sewn to the front. Her tin lunchbox is similarly themed and only harbors a bag of fruit snacks. 

“Fruit snacks or pretzels?” 

Penelope’s features pinch in a way that says neither but she snatches the fruit snacks anyway. Decidedly dismissed or over the conversation, she hops off the chair and sees herself out. 

You can’t help the smile that finds your lips as you turn back to Steve.

He chuckles, “It’s been a day. Bring her back if she doesn’t listen. Good luck.” 

Penelope leans against the wall outside, popping a gummy in her mouth lazily. 

“We’re gonna make a pitstop at the supply closet and then you can help me with the flyers.” 

She doesn’t say anything, but she follows as you start walking, and that’s all you need from her. She’s strangely silent for a kid, especially Steve’s kid. Conversation seems to come easy to him, he likes to talk, which is one of the reasons you still can’t believe you didn’t know he had a child. On your first day as a volunteer, he’d crammed that he was on the swim team in high school, that he's from Indiana, and that he prefers the warmer months all in one conversation– the guy is an open book.  

And you’re quiet too because you’re focused on recalling where they put that damned supply closet. The rec center halls all sort of look the same still, bleeding into one jumbled image of wood paneling and old carpet in your mind. The building is practically a maze; constructed in the fifties, it still carries its historic charm—stubborn doors, leaky faucets, and all—issues the city claims they 'can’t afford' to fix. 

Penelope must get tired of going in circles because eventually she tugs on your sleeve and points down the opposite hall you were planning on going. When she leads you right up to the door you beam at her. For a second, she forgets to be brooding and smiles back. 

“You’re a smart little cookie, Penelope. How’d you know it was here?” You ask, unlocking the door. 

She shrugs nonchalantly, “I just know things.”

You laugh loud enough to draw eyes from a nearby meeting and determine Penelope is the funniest kid you’ve ever met. 

She holds the door open at your request, munching on her fruit snacks as you maneuver a stack of chairs into the hall. You make it back to the classroom without her directions, not to toot your own horn. She tosses her empty wrapper in the trash as you unstack the chairs. 

“Here,” you pass her a roll of tape. “Rip some pieces off for me?” 

She nods, ambling over to the wall with you.  

“So, Penelope, how old are you?” You ask, pressing a flyer against the wallpaper. 

She debates, flipping fingers up and down on her free hand before concluding, “Four.” 

“Ohh, very cool. You’re almost ready to go to school with the big kids, huh?” 

“Yes, at the big school. I’m in pre-school.” 

“Mhmm. Do you like preschool?” 

She hums no and strains to tear off a piece. 

“Here, like this,” you demonstrate, pulling in the proper direction. She copies you, ripping a neat line. The corners of her lips raise as she views her handiwork. 

“You don’t like school?” You ask, peering down. 

She hands you the slice of tape. “Only sometimes.” 

“Why only sometimes?” 

She shrugs and heaves a hefty sigh for such little lungs. She’s too small to be sighing like that, you think, and she definitely acquired it from Steve. 

“I only like work sometimes too,” you admit. 

Her eyes chase yours– all innocently wide and filled with disbelief. She rips off another square of tape, “Are your friends not nice?” 

You consider her question, answering truthfully, “Well, maybe sometimes, I guess.” 

“Meg was not a kind friend today.” Her tone is hilariously chastizing for a child. Kids are just like mini adults sometimes– collecting random phrases and mannerisms like trading cards.  

“No? Why’s that?” 

“She wouldn’t share. Daddy always says sharing is caring.” 

“That’s true. Did you tell your teacher?” 

Penelope shakes her head, tilting on her heels.

“Why not?”

“Meg told the teacher on me because I wasn’t being a kind friend either.” 

“Oh. Why weren’t you being a kind friend?” 

“Because I wanted to play with the dolls too,” she mumbles, upset wavering in her voice. To a child, these seemingly trivial matters really do feel like the end of the world, so you can’t help but empathize, even as you wish your worries were confined to sharing toys.

You crouch in front of Penelope, “We still should be kind, hmm? Even when our friends don’t want to share?” 

Penelope’s unconvinced, picking at her nail like the dirt underneath is a more important issue. But you’re at the end of your stack of cardstock and it maybe isn’t your place to have this conversation anyway. 

You get her set up at a table with printer paper and a box of crayons from the closet. She dumps them out immediately, spraying rainbow across her paper so she can find the “bestest” colors.  

“I can share,” she declares, sliding her extra sheet over to your end of the table. 

“That’s very sweet of you. Thank you.” You catch a crayon before it rolls onto the floor. “What should I draw?” 

“I’m coloring my family.” 

“That’s nice. I think I’ll draw a dinosaur.” 

“A dinosaur?” She cocks her head and giggles, bubbly and pure in the way that kids laugh. Your heart aches with happiness. “That’s silly!” 

“What? Why’s that silly?” 

She cackles like this is the funniest idea anyone’s ever had. “They just are!” 

“Hmm. Should I draw a serious dinosaur then?” 

“All dinosaurs are silly– Trevor says so.”

“What! Why does he think that?” 

Her words fuse into one smear of a sound as she shrugs, “I dunno.” 

“Well, my dinosaur is very serious. See?”

She presses into your arm to examine your quick sketch. “That’s not a dinosaur!” 

“It is! You can’t tell?” 

She nibbles on her lip, smile growing as she shakes her head. 

You pull the paper closer, as if a better angle might somehow improve it. “Hmm, I guess it does look a bit like an alien, doesn’t it?”

Penelope giggles and nods enthusiastically before returning to her work. Her crayon moves methodically across the paper, lips pressed together in concentration. After a long spell of silence, she kindly requests, “Can you draw a house?” 

“Of course,” you reply, “On my paper or yours?”

“Mine,” she says, her pointer finger tapping the corner of her sheet with emphasis.

The drawing is a riot of color, blending bold strokes of crayon to create two people and an animal. The taller, presumably Steve, is painted with orange and yellow hues– true to the the warmth he represents. Penelope, doused in cooler tones, carries their floppy-eared pet– a bunny or a dog, maybe? 

“Wow, Penelope! This is amazing!” You genuinely mean it; despite her young age, her talent shines through in little details like eyelashes and a set of heart-shaped earrings. “Is this you and Daddy?”

“Yes, and Cinderella!” she adds proudly.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” you say, admiring her work. “Is Cinderella your pet?” 

She bobs her head animatedly. 

“Wow, she looks like a very pretty… animal in your drawing.” 

“She is a very pretty cat,” Penelope affirms and you are relieved not to have guessed incorrectly. She stares at you for a long moment. “Is Cinderella family?” 

“Well, does she live with you?”

Penelope scrunches her nose and tips her head, “Sort of?”

“She sort of lives with you?”

“Yeah. She lives outside mostly but sometimes I let her inside.” Her pitch fluctuates as she talks, the words lilting in a strange, almost sing-song cadence that kids do. 

“Ohh,” you smile. “Do you feed Cinderella?”

“Yes, Daddy buys her food in a can and it’s really stinky!” 

Penelope joins you when you laugh. Not because you are but because stinky things are just funny at her age. 

“Do you love Cinderella?” You ask. 

“Yes– except when she bites me.” She sobers quickly, forehead wrinkling. 

“Oh,” you chuckle, “Well, I think she’s family then.” 

“I think so too,” she states seriously, swapping a blue crayon for a green. 

“What color should the house be?” You claw through the rainbow spread.  

“White!” 

“Well, the paper’s already white but how ‘bout I outline the house in black so you know where it is?” 

“I guess so. There’s two windows and the door is red– Oh, and there are lots of flowers outside.” 

You nod, sketching her vision into existence. “Is this your house?” 

“Yes, and Daddy’s. And sometimes Cinderella’s.”

“Just you three? Is that your whole family?” Admittedly, it’s a self-indulgent question. You’re curious about Penelope’s mom. And you noticed Steve doesn’t wear a ring, checked multiple times in the last few weeks even. But that doesn’t refute the possibility he might be seeing someone. 

“Yes, Daddy and Cinderella is my family. Daddy says families come in all shapes and sizes.” 

You’re glowing with a fondness that’s impossible to hide– because everything about her is adorable– her chubby cheeks, her tinkling little laugh, even her attitude, though Steve would probably disagree with the latter. She’s different than Steve in a lot of ways: grumpier and more aloof, but, at her age, it’s cute. And still, she feels like his carbon copy. An echo of everything you’ve come to like about him. 

Him being a dad makes perfect sense in retrospect. To have overlooked such an important part of his life seems silly. A tenderness radiates from Steve, the kind only a parent could possess. He’s full of love– too much not to share. He pours lots into his work: late nights at the center, taking on more than he can chew, always with a smile. And the rest? It must go to Penelope. 

“Your dad is very right about that.” 

She smirks confidently, holding up her artwork, “I’m going to give this to him.”

“I bet he’ll love it so much, Penelope!” 

And his dad senses must be tingling at the mention of his name because his face appears in the door’s slim window not even a minute later. His lips curve into a grin as he realizes he’s been caught spying. 

The door clicks and Penelope turns. “Hi, Daddy.”  

“Hi, baby,” Steve strolls over to the opposite side of the table, “Are you being a good listener?” His attention flicks around the room, searching for any signs of misbehavior. 

Penelope shimmies up tall in her seat and nods until he meets her pleased gaze. 

Steve must believe the girl because he doesn’t press further, but you praise her anyway, “Very good. Penelope’s been an amazing helper this afternoon.” 

“Is that right?” He orbits the table to stand behind her. “What are you drawing, Nell?”

She flips over her paper, clapping the front against the table. “It’s a surprise!”

“Oh, sorry!” He paces back, redirecting his attention to you. “I didn’t see it.” 

Penelope twists around to confirm his eyes are elsewhere before proceeding to squeeze in a final set of details– grass blades and sun rays. “Here,” she thrusts the page into his hands. “For you.” 

“For me?” His face lights up like a Christmas tree before he’s even seen it. She could hand him a pebble, and he’d treasure it like a gem. And when his eyes do fan across the drawing, he melts. 

“This is so lovely!” He coos. “Where did you get all this talent from? This belongs in a museum, Nell!” He keeps his heart from bursting with a steady palm to his chest. And with his free hand, he flashes it at you just long enough to catch a glimpse before he reels it in to study some more. “And you got Cinderella’s stripes too. Wow.” 

He squats behind Penelope’s chair, throwing an arm around her middle, “Thank you for this. And thank you for being a good listener. That makes my heart very happy.” 

She slumps into his chest, peering up at the reflection of her own features. “Is it time to go?” 

His eyes leap to the clock hung on the opposite wall. “Couple more hours, babe.”

Penelope huffs. 

“I’m gonna hang this in my office. I love it so so much!” He sows a couple of kisses on her temple, straining to stand with achy knees. “You wanna come hang out with me or stay here?” 

She looks at you like you might object. “Here.” 

If Steve’s offended, he doesn’t show it. He’s still grinning like the Cheshire cat, high on the parenting win that is receiving willing affection from your child.  “That okay?” He asks you. 

“Of course. I’ll put her to work,” you reassure. 

“Good, keep her busy. It keeps her out of trouble.” He raises the drawing for another look. “I’ll be in my office, doing paperwork, yay.” 

You snicker, as he retraces the path he came. “Have fun with that boss!”

Just before the door slams shut, he yells back, equally playful, “I told you to stop calling me that!”

Penelope doodles some more, gifting you a vibrant rendition of the night sky– a collection of stars and circles and swirls. You’re so grateful you tell her it’ll go on your fridge, and it does as soon as you’re home. She sorts through toys and equipment in the gym closet and even holds your dustpan when you sweep. Her role as your helper is taken very seriously. 

The two hours pass faster than you expect. Time flies when you're having fun, as Steve would say. All his little phrases and cheesy jokes suddenly make sense in the context of him being a dad. 

She takes your hand on the way to Steve’s office, escorting you when you pretend not to know which direction it’s in. It’s as comforting as it is validating; winning the kindness and attention of four-year-olds, especially this one, is difficult. You knock on the wood frame even though the door’s propped open. 

Steve peaks up through a rare pair of reading glasses. Round, wireframes that match the golden shade his hair assumes when it catches the light. They highlight his eyes—warm and gentle as a summer breeze. But he swipes them off his nose, folding them with practiced care. 

A smile mends his frown as Penelope climbs into his lap. “Hi, sweetheart.” 

She wiggles into a comfortable position, nudging his chest until he reclines further to make space. “Hi.”

“Are you having fun?” Steve cradles her shin to keep her from slipping. “What have you been up to?”

“Cleaning.” Her tone is casual, dismissive even, like it’s nothing to fuss over; but her eyes are fixed on him, waiting for a reaction. 

Steve gasps, “No way! You were cleaning? I don’t know if I believe it.” 

“I was!” Penelope whines, tickled with glee. 

“Hmm, is this true?” He arches an eyebrow at you. 

You nod, delighted to play along. “It is. Penelope here is excellent at handling a dustpan. She even organized the dodgeballs by color.”

“Really? Because you never-ever want to clean at home.”

“I do!” She squeals, bending backward over the arm of his chair.

“Yeah right.” He blows a raspberry on her belly where her shirt has pinched up.

She shrieks, squirming and kicking her heels into his thigh. Steve’s dad reflexes must clock in because he blocks her knee just before it drives into his cheek. And he takes it as a sign to ease up before someone gets hurt– craning back up and scooping Penelope into a baby cradle against his chest. Her legs are long and lanky, dangling over his arms like uncooked spaghetti. 

“Do we need to invite them over every time you make a mess in your room? Will that solve the problem?” He teases, squishing her arms against his shirt so she can’t escape and peppering kisses from temple to temple. 

Eventually, Penelope comes to terms that no amount of writhing will succeed against his strength. She slackens in his embrace, surrendering to the terrible thing that is unconditional love. 

“Oh, here are your keys!” They rattle against the desk where you drop them. 

Steve nods into Penelope's crown, poking her side. “Can you say ‘thank you for hanging out with me?’”

Anticipating another round of tickles, she grins before parroting, “Thank you for hanging out with me.”

“Thank you for helping me clean!”

Her eyes sweep back over to Steve, “Can we go home yet?” 

His fingers tap rhythmically on the desk, a small sigh escaping as he glances at the paperwork drowning his workspace. “We’ll leave as soon as I’m finished.” He pecks the top of her head. “Promise.”

She rolls her eyes, moaning, “Daddy, come on it’s taking, like, a million years!”

“A million? Surely not.” 

“It is!” She elongates the sound until it’s less word and more noise. 

His shoulders droop, tension slipping from his frame as he agrees, “Okay. I’m ready to go too.” 

You don’t blame him for giving in so easily, Penelope’s puppy eyes are powerful. Her chunky little hands smoosh his cheeks– molding and kneading like it’s play-doh, “Is that why your face looks so sleepy?”

A hearty laugh bursts from his throat, “Yes, that’s why my face looks so sleepy.” He pats her arms, “Come on. Up.” 

Penelope scoots off his knees, gripping his wrist for balance. Steve ducks under the desk for his backpack and shoves the stack of paperwork inside. 

“Hey, I meant to ask you, is the new schedule working okay for you?” He asks you, always so thoughtful. 

You nod earnestly. “Yeah, actually, I like doing Fridays better I think.”

“Yeah, Fridays are fun. Fitness Friday has been a big hit with the high school's soccer team.” He slings his bag over his shoulder and lifts Penelope’s by the strap. 

“Oh, good! Did the new jump ropes come in?” Conversations like this, as mundane as they are, are fleeting– the next interruption always around the corner– so you savor it while you have him. 

“Mmmm, not yet. I think they’re coming next week– shipping delays or something.” 

You turn to leave but stop in your tracks, attention stolen by Penelope’s drawing. As promised, it’s hung up– a few pieces of scotch tape secure it to the wall across from his desk. 

“I’m gonna get a frame for it,” Steve passes you with a toothy smile, flicking off the light. 

Penelope chimes in before you can respond, “Can I play jump rope?”

“I don't know if you know how, babe. I can teach you.” 

“I can! I did at school!”

“You did? I didn’t know that.” Steve waves to a passing coworker. “Maybe we’ll buy one for home too then.” 

Penelope nods, hopping the last stretch to the front door. 

“Any fun plans this weekend?” Steve asks you outside, bumping the back of Penelope’s hand until she takes his. The parking lot is almost empty at this time of day, but a few stragglers remain inside after hours. 

“If you think laundry is fun, then sure.” 

“Oh, I know all about that, trust me.” He nods at Penelope, “This one goes through more clothes in a week than I do in a month.” 

Steve approaches a BMW, only a few spots over from your car. An older model, but well taken care of. It’s a nice shade of burgundy with a stick-figure family on the back windshield. It feels so him. 

You hum a happy sound. “What about you? Any plans?” 

“Besides laundry? Well, we’re actually going kayaking at Red Fleet tomorrow,” he unlocks the passenger door, tucking the backpacks in the footwell. 

“Oh, fun! Are you excited?” You ask Penelope. 

“I’m gonna look for frogs.” 

She wrenches the handle a few times before her door flies open. Steve intercepts mid-swing to prevent her from denting the neighboring truck at the expense of his fingers. 

“Ow– shit,” he grimaces, shaking his wrist. He visibly swallows any other swears when he sees Penelope gawking, “Nell, I’ve told you to be gentle with the door.” 

“You said we can’t say that word,” she points out, climbing into her car seat.

You scrub your mouth, not so inconspicuously erasing your smile. 

“I– yes,” he nods, “You’re right. We shouldn’t say that word. I just–”

“Even when we’re frustrated; that’s what you said!” 

Steve takes a deep breath through his nose, choking down his several feelings. She’s right, he did say that, to hopefully stop her from swearing at preschool, but the profanity policing is comical coming from a four-year-old. And he can’t be laughing right now– he has parenting to do– but he’s on the verge of breaking when he catches sight of your face.  

Steve collects himself as he buckles her in. “Yes, Penelope. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry.” 

She pats his head, “It’s okay. We all do mistakes.” 

Steve softens. The irritation evaporates instantly, replaced by a surge of satisfaction. This is one of those rare moments where he can so clearly recognize the lessons he’s instilled taking shape. 

He lets himself chuckle then, “We do. We all make mistakes and that’s okay.” 

She nods as he tightens her straps, “Like when I spilled my juice this morning.”

“Exactly.” He triple-checks that all her limbs are safely out of the door’s reach before shutting it.  

He faces you, scratching his cheek– rosy and round with joy. “How much you wanna bet she swears at me tomorrow?”

“Hey, I don’t doubt it!” Your elation mirrors his. 

“If she can’t find any frogs at the park I can almost guarantee it.” 

“Better help her look then.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’d invite you but it’s reservation-based. And I’d be surprised if there’s any spots open still… But we can sneak you in if you really want to go.” It’s meant to be a joke, but something in the way he holds your gaze suggests a level of seriousness. 

“No, that’s okay,” you grin. “The pile of laundry on my bed awaits.”

“Well, maybe next time.” 

You try not to read into it. Steve’s a friendly guy, he probably invites his coworkers out to things all the time. 

You nod, idling at the hood of his beamer. 

“I really appreciate you watching her today. You’re a lifesaver, truly,” he shakes his head, peeking at Penelope through the window. “She’s been a handful lately– I mean, I had to pick her up early today because she bit another kid, can you believe that?” 

“She’s a kid,” you shrug, “All kids do that at some point.”  

“I don’t know,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I’m honestly at my witts end. This is her third warning and if she gets kicked out of school— I don’t know what I’ll do.” 

“From what I saw today, she’s a really good kid, Steve. I can’t imagine they’d do that.” 

“I’ve just been so busy, you know, sometimes I wonder if she acts out because of that– and it’s just me so I can’t–” he pauses, wiping his face, “God– I’m sorry, you’re… I’m just dumping all of this on you when you’re trying to leave.”

“No! It’s okay, I don’t mind, really.” 

“It’s– Well, it’s a lot and I,” he’s cut short by Penelope knocking on the glass, impatience strewn across her features. 

He throws up his pointer finger to tell her one second. “We can talk next week. You’ll be here Friday?” 

“Yep. I will see you then,” you nod, backing up a step so he can cross over to the driver’s side. 

“Okay, thanks again,” he says, opening his door. 

You wave goodbye, “Of course. Have fun kayaking!” 

“You too!” He yells, then mumbles, “Shit.” 

“Dad!” Penelope’s voice scolds. 

A warmth simmers in your chest as you walk away– a fizzy feeling that had been bottled up and crammed into a forgotten corner of your body. But as soon as you’re settling into the privacy of your car, it boils over into this rush of giddy exhilaration, electrifying every inch of your skin. Giggles cut through the silence as your smile stretches wider, completely untamable. There’s no stopping this, not when you’re already fantasizing about a next time with Steve.

[fiamat12]

Ring Anon here to try to answer this question:

“Do we think it's a promise ring or engagement ring? And who bought it: Nic or Luke?”

The short answer is, I don’t think we have enough info to know this for sure but I am going to take a guess:

First of all, I think there is a small chance that it doesn’t represent a traditional romantic relationship. I think it could possibly be a momento to represent their unique friendship/relationship as well as Nic’s experience and accomplishment filming season 3, which Luke is an integral part of. In this case I think she would have bought it herself to commemorate the experience and her success. Nic is nostalgic and enjoys symbolism and likes to have physical reminders of important experiences and people in her life (photos, for example.) The Claddagh ring represents “Love, loyalty and friendship” and it I think it does represent all of those things between the two of them, but we don’t know for sure what type of love that is. I don’t think it’s familial (the have NEVER referred to themselves as having a bro/sis type of relationship), and it’s hard to say its platonic because I think there are clear signs of romantic and sexual attraction in their body language, but I don’t know if they define it as romantic or have made the choice to move forward with an irl relationship outside of their professional romance and personal friendship. If they haven’t decided to move forward in that way, I think it’s for one of these reasons:

A) They’ve decided not to pursue a personal romantic relationship while they are working together/playing opposite each other

B) They don’t feel that they are compatible outside of the context of Bton/set/work

C) One or both of them, most likely Nic, doesn’t want to have a traditional dating relationship because she doesn’t trust it due to past experiences, or she has a different paradigm on romantic relationships. She has said herself she is cynical about love and also she seems to prioritize all of her friendships and relationships as opposed to centering her life around one romantic partner. If this is the case it could create a conflict with L’s approach to relationships as he seems to be someone who likes being in a monogamous partnership.

Okay, with that disclaimer out of the way, I think there are signs that they could presently be moving forward in a romantic partnership, and the presence of the ring, the timing of when it was ordered and when she got it, how/when she wears it, and it’s orientation is one of the biggest ones. The Claddagh ring IS a relationship ring. That’s its whole purpose. Claddagh rings are also an old school way to broadcast your availability/relationship status, even before the advent of social media. She’s wearing it in the “in a relationship/not available” position, and she has been since she got it in Galway. She wears it out publicly, it’s front and center on that new Polaroid, she wore it in the festival pics with JD, and she wears it straight out of the shower when she’s doing her skincare. It’s the first thing back on after a photo shoot. She wears it like it has personal significance to her, like one would wear a wedding or engagement ring. She wears it in sponsored posts and makes sure we see it. She knows the fandom speculates about it and STILL makes sure we see it. In my opinion the ring, and who/what it represents, is very significant to her and close to her heart.

I’ve seen the speculation that the rings on the hands are like L’s, and I think that’s very interesting. He doesn’t wear those rings consistently anymore, but if they are supposed to be his hands and he’s LITERALLY HOLDING HER HEART I’m melting into a puddle on the spot.

If I had to guess, I don’t think they were engaged when she got the ring. I think Nic needed more time to feel ready for that step, and I think Luke needed some time to handle business/wrap up loose ends. I feel like it would be weird for them to be engaged but separated much of the summer and him off with A on vacation, etc. I also feel like if they were engaged she would be wearing it on her left ring finger, unless they are secretly engaged and want to keep it under wraps. But it is an engagement ring, according to how it was marketed. And the nature of the type of ring it is offers some fluidity in that it can change what it represents as the relationship grows and changes, which I think is actually very beautiful and appropriate for a friends-to-lovers story. And I think if they are in a romantic relationship, I do think it is serious and headed towards engagement if not already there. I think they mean too much to each other to date causally or risk their friendship for anything but endgame.

So, I think it could be a promise ring, and a symbol that they are going to explore and pursue the feelings between them. If it is, he may have bought it for her. He does have a history of being a gift-giver of nostalgic/symbolic gifts (camera). The timing of him meeting her family at the same time she got it is also interesting (was someone asked for permission/blessings?)

The “waiting for you” lyrics and the fact that she kept flashing it on SM when he was going through what may have been a disentangling this summer I think might have been some reassurance for him that she is waiting for him and not going anywhere. I feel like they may have taken a break before after filming season 3 and it went wrong: maybe she got spooked and ran away or something like that, leading to him to go off the rails/HBS/date A. And then maybe they talked it out and made a plan while on tour, but he’s nervous that she’s going to do that again. So maybe he put a ring on it to show he’s serious and she’s sending him (and us) little messages that she’s still on board by wearing it and showing it off.

Okay, a couple more things… in the comments or my last anon post there was a link to a post speculating that N may have bought L the bracelet he mentioned in the interview that said something about friendship being the best foundation for love. I think that would be very interesting because it would be a bold statement from her suggesting that their friendship had turned into irl love, or that she was open to trying again, earlier on in the tour than most of our timelines suggest. It’s possible it was from a fan because I think that line was in the trailer, right? But it would be a very thoughtful and personal and generous gift if it was from a fan. And if it was from her, and she gave him personal jewelry that represented love and friendship, I think it could make sense that he reciprocated with a ring that holds a similar meaning. A very significant, gorgeous, expensive, but no-pressure-we’ll-go-there-when-you’re-ready ring.

Thank you for your thoughts! I appreciate you looking at all sides - because we truly never know ;-) I do, however, think that the couple - yes, I said it, the *couple* - are speaking rather loudly at this point. Imo, Nic has left us w/ little doubt in her recent posts and Luke, in his Spain post (he tried! Lol) that they are together 👫

Quite simply, and w/out rehashing their entire timeline, their relationship was not a thunderbolt from sky (to take a line from Colin). Once S3 filming started, I believe art imitated life; if you want to take a hint from Luke, maybe even as far back as the pic to which he took "the great unliking"... S2 pic of June 2021.

But this is about THE RING, and I do believe it signifies something serious between them. There are the Italy engagement truthers I can get on board with (or at least consider) because I do believe they're deeply in love and realized it as soon as they reunited for the WT. I also think that they've hidden it for privacy (not unlike most celebs) & to protect their reputations (also not unlike most celebs. I've discussed the HBS/ homewrecker issues in other posts)

As for A, I think that was done long ago (Feb/March) and was never serious to begin with... and that the only disentangling that Nic was waiting for was on a public perception level; Luke needed to clear things up image wise to where he & Nic could launch on a positive note. I think Nic was telling us that, like Charli XCX and her fiancé (drummer of Luke's fave band), they've been secretly together for a minute...

I can't wait to see if that ring goes on another finger soon, or if it will be announced that it already signifies a certain commitment? Since again, I believe what has been portrayed publicly is very different than what's being going on bts.

Only time will tell, but I'm confident good things are ahead for Lukola fans! 🙏

[jamiesfootball]

I have loved all the comments I’ve gotten on my post season three fic (like you don’t even know how much I have reread all of those bad boys they give me oxygen), but by far one of the most gratifying ones I’ve gotten has been:

“you made that last episode seem so much more reasonable”

THAT WAS THE GOAL

[yaoyaobae]

Its been awhile and i have another OC to share LOL gotta draw brain rots instead of keeping them in your head forever ☺️💖

Name: Aurore Dormir

School: Royal Sword Academy

Pastime: Escaping school to wander in the nearby forest, spending time alone

Hobbies: Sightseeing, Gardening, Fencing.

Family: Father, Mother , *Brother ( silver, please refer to the last note regarding my own theory)

Aurore is a third year student at RSA, currently house warden of the sleeping beauty inspired dorm.

Aurore is also the next king of the Kingdom of Heroes, which naturally made him the center of attention in RSA.

Unlike Malleus whose powerful aura pushes people away from him, Aurore draws people towards him as they feel a sense of security around him.

He was only recently enrolled into school during his second year as his family brought him back from isolation for training, far away from the world’s eyes.

At first glance, Aurore may seem like the ideal dream prince: Kind, Polite, Courageous, Strong and Smart as he is consistent in securing top grades across his cohort. But deep down, he isn’t exactly the perfect prince most of his peers think he is.

Aurore is actually afraid of strangers and overwhelming attention ( he was raised in isolation so meeting humans are.. yeah) He is skilled at hiding his weakness but starts blanking out if there are too many people crowding around him.

As a result, he finds happiness in spending time alone in places where no one recognises him. He usually takes a short stroll around Sage Island’s various forests when his caretakers aren’t looking.

Strangely, Aurore mentions that his enjoyment from lonely strolls only existed because he would suddenly find himself in unknown places as a child…as if something or someone was calling him. But he became mentally stronger as he got older and knows how to guard himself during his impromptu walks.

Bonus personal theory/lore:

Hi! So if you have been following me since i started creating twst ocs, you would be familiar with a certain comic i drew for an Aurora Oc ( its not exactly Aurore because i didn’t flesh him out) . But to sum up my theory for that comic:

There was once a powerful kingdom that clashed with briar valley, humans and fae did not get along as well back then.

Somewhere in between the war, both of the queen’s sons were cursed by a powerful magician and separated at birth. The queen initially wanted to send her two sons far away from the castle, but only managed to send one tucked away in a casket that drifted on a hidden river which led to a forest.

The war ended a few days later, with both fae and humans forming a truce. The queen fell into depression after realising that her second son probably did not make it and blamed herself for not keeping him a little longer had she known he would have been safe and alive in her arms.

Time heals wounds, and with some reassurance from the King the Queen got back up on her feet stronger for the sake of her people. Of course, sometimes the servants would catch a glimpse of the lonely Queen staring into the far forests wondering if she will ever see those small pair of Aurora coloured eyes again.

Because the Queen conceived her two sons alone away from the servants, only she and the King were aware of their other missing son. The three fairy advisors who had protected them from the very start told the Queen that if word of two cursed princes were to spread, the kingdom would be doomed to fall . The Queen had no choice but to accept this decision, and so they entrusted their only son to the three fairies in case the curse within him acts up. Hence Aurore was raised in isolation away from the world’s attention and only enrolled in his second year to prevent the curse from possibly manifesting.

In this story I created Silver is the missing prince in question who drifted far into the forest and eventually picked up by Lilia. His only proof of his royal status is a ring with an aurora coloured gem (Book 7 mention).

Regarding the curse: Silver was cursed to feel drowsy all the time while Aurore was cursed to follow a voice in his head which leads him to sleepwalk into dangerous places alone. Silver’s hair colour reminds me of the spindle/needle, so in a way he contains the sleeping curse. Like Aurora, Aurore is drawn into strange places by a voice and eventually to the spindle. Hence these two will always feel an unfamiliar sense of closeness to each other.

“Yao why do you think Silver would have a brother? Much less the RSA guy inspired by Aurora? Doesn’t Silver already have Aurora’s traits?”

In general this is just my own fun theory to think about, but my reasons are because i think it would be interesting if Silver canonically had living family member(s) from a royal family( that ring kinda tells all). It would also put him in place wondering if he should return to his biological human family or stay with his Briar Valley family as he feels a stronger bond with them. With the way TWST tackles issues about fae/human like Sebek from example, i would love to see Silver’s resolve for his found family.

In my old comic, the Aurora OC actually dislikes Fae because of the war. He especially hates Lilia because he believed the war criminal took his own brother away and is promoting peace despite his past.

I feel Aurore would dislike Lilia but eventually learns to see the war from both sides as humans aren’t all that great either, he is still a naive prince with much to learn about the world. So while Silver does have Aurora’s trait, Aurore may have some of King Stefan’s from Maleficent/OG film. TWST tends to combine diff character traits anyways🌝👍

Anyways I adore these two so much and am looking forward to Silver’s past in the future updates! Thank you for reading about Aurore, till next time 💖

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

would you like to tell us about your research on virginity?

but also...wdym STIs aren't as scary as we think??? I was told most of them are incurable? I know you can make aids untrasmittable and that they've even succeded in curing it a couple times but that's about it. I would love to be educated about this

yeah, the basic idea with the virginity project was that the whole concept of virginity is pretty bullshit in the context in which it was initially significant, namely cisgender women being penetrated by cisgender men, so as soon as you take it outside of that context by introducing gay and trans sexuality it totally falls apart. I mean, hell, it stops working if you even look at two cishet people doing literally anything OTHER than penis-in-vagina sex. I tripped up so many people initially when I started asking questions like "okay, so you don't think a woman loses her virginity from a man going down on her. so what if it's two women? what's the difference?" and just really getting people to face down their very penis-centered view of the sex, to the result of several people telling me that it kind of made them reevaluate what they actually think of as the first time they had sex. it's also fascinating to either read other people's accounts or discuss firsthand how queer people have either tried to make themselves fit into the binary of virginity - queer man disagreeing over whether or not you have to have penetrative anal sex to lose your virginity or oral sex is sufficient, a fascinating case of a lesbian who felt that have sex with other cis women didn't "count" and asked a cis male friend to have sex with her just so she could feel satisfied that she'd lost her virginity - or abandon it entirely. Hanne Blank's book Virgin was a formative starting point, and it really exploded for me from there.

as for the STIs - hey, bad news! you fell victim to the scare tactics used to make people afraid of sex! almost all sexually transmitted infections are very easy to treat and cure with the right medicine, which is why it's important to get tested regularly and check in with your healthcare provider at the first sign of something amiss. pubic lice, scabies, trichomoniasis, gonorrhea, chlamydia, syphilis - all of those are pretty easy to get rid of with some help from your doctor and a run to the pharmacy!

the major exceptions are the 4 H's: herpes, HIV, HPV, and hepatitis B.

herpes is with you forever but is an incredibly mild companion to share your body with, considering most people never experience any notable symptoms and those who do can curb the severity with medicine.

it's also worth noting that herpes is so common as to be virtually ubiquitous; the World Health Organization consistently estimates that somewhere around 80% of the world's adult population is carrying herpes simplex virus 1 or herpes simplex virus 2. a great deal of those people don't even get it from having sex, but rather by catching HSV-1 from a parent or other people they come is close contact with as a child.

you're actually thinking of HIV (human immunodeficiency virus) when you mention AIDS becoming untransmittable, but that's still a very good thing! the care available for people with HIV has come incredibly far since AIDS first became known and claimed so many lives, and today it's more than possible for people infected with HIV to live long, healthy lives by taking the proper medication to manage their viral load.

with management, people with HIV will not develop AIDS (which happens when the immune system is sufficiently depleted by HIV) and by consistently taking their medication people with HIV can become undetectable (the viral load in their body is too small to be detected or measured in tests), at which point they are unable to transmit the virus to other people.

HPV (human paillomavirus) comes in many different strains, most of which are absolutely harmless and go away on their own after a couple of months or years of freeloading in your body. I cannot emphasize this enough: HPV is so common that virtually everyone who has sex has, will have, or has had it in their lives, and the vast, VAST majority of those people will never be troubled by it literally at all.

the trouble comes from a few strains of HPV that can cause genital warts, and a few others that can cause cancers in the throat, anus, cervix, vulva, vagina, and penis. while HPV can't be treated, you can reduce your risk of developing cancer by getting the HPV vaccine if you haven't already and, if you have a cervix, getting regular Pap smears to catch early warning signs of cancerous developments.

hepatitis B is a viral infection that targets the liver. in rare cases it can cause chronic health problems that can be very dangerous, but I have to emphasize that's not common. in most adults who get hep B, there will be no symptoms and it will resolve itself in a matter of weeks. the infection is riskiest in children, but at least in America most people have received vaccines against hepatitis B as babies since the 90s.

in conclusion: get your shots, take your medicine, use protection, get tested, and talk to your doctor, but know that if there's one thing humans are good at it's figuring out how to manage STIs. we've been doing it for a long time - most sexually transmitted infections and parasites have been with us since before we we became modern humans - so we're really good at it!

[darthannie]

potential side effects

pairing: Jonathan Crane x f!reader summary: After giving you an experimental medication, Dr. Crane helps you get over your fear of intimacy.  word count: 2,143 warnings: 18+, minors DNI for the love of god, DARK, rough at points, I’m gonna go ahead and say NONCON, au where Dr. Crane has a private practice, abuse of power, reader is under the influence (kinda like the fear toxin), reader is sleepy, Crane doesn't take no for an answer, dacryphilia, inexperienced!reader, floor sex, spit, fighting back, a smidge of aftercare at the end. a/n: Please do not read if you’re not into what's in the warnings. I had fun experimenting with this one. I tried to be a little more thorough in the warnings. Better safe than sorry. I’m still toying around with Jonathan’s voice. Let me know if you want more of this kind of thing, or something different. I’d love to interact with you guys more!

Dr. Jonathan Crane had been treating you for the better part of a year and was in the midst of creating a new medication regimen for you. Your previous treatment plan was not working as intended, so it was back to the drawing board.

He selected you as the first person to receive an experimental medication. It was meant to be inhaled and doses were to be given during the time of the appointment. You didn’t necessarily know what to expect. He’d briefly mentioned that there may be potential side effects but didn’t go into much detail. 

You were nervous the first time you’d gone in to receive a dose. As you approached the door to his office you felt a lump begin to form in your throat. You knocked and after a moment he opened the door. Jonathan always wore the same thing most of the time. Today he donned a black blazer and slacks with a white button-up. His red tie was placed right at the center of his collar. His dark hair framed his face perfectly. He looks good today, you thought, better than usual. 

You exchanged your normal pleasantries and sat across from him on a couch. His office was spacious and dark. All the furniture was made of wood. In the corner, there was a big bookcase that consisted of books on fear, pharmacology, and different editions of the DSM. The DSM-4 was missing from the shelf, presumably on his desk. 

The room brought you a lot of comfort. It was the only place you ever got to see him. It felt like Dr. Crane was the only person in all of Gotham that understood you. It was his job after all. 

Soon the time came for him to administer the medication. 

“I’m going to spray in front of your face and you’re going to breathe in. It doesn’t take much to be effective.”, he said. 

You nodded and he sprayed. 

Your nerves subsided almost immediately and your mind became quiet.

“Any difference?”, he asked. 

“My mind is silent. All my racing thoughts have stopped.” 

“Good. That means it’s working. Some of the other side effects may begin to set in now.” 

He was right. Like clockwork, you started to get drowsy. It was like someone had given you a little too much Benadryl. It was hard to keep your eyes open. 

“Dr. Crane? Is this normal?” You couldn’t help but drag the ’s’. 

“It’s nothing to worry about. It’s just the medication working. How do you feel?” He seemed a tad on edge as he awaited your answer. 

“I feel all warm inside.” 

He then leaned back against his desk. “Any drowsiness?”

“Lots of it.” You chuckled slightly.

“That is normal.” He said, answering your question. “The medication was likely to make you feel tired.”

“Does it go away?”

“As your body builds up a tolerance, the effects will lessen. Now, I wanted to talk about the recent screenings you filled out. I would like you to check over them and rate their accuracy on a scale from one to five, five being very accurate.” 

He handed you a piece of paper and you looked it over. “Four.”

“Why not five?” His eyebrows furrowed. 

“Number six. ’S worse.” Question number six pertained to your interest in sex. More specifically how terrified you were of having it. 

It was a topic you were working on with Dr. Crane since it impacted your life so much. You were hesitant to mention it at first, but he assured you it was better to talk about it instead of holding it in. So, you spilled every detail. This included your inability to get yourself off and failed hook-up attempts.

You’d try very hard but when it came time for you to do the deed you shut down and found a way out of the situation. You hadn’t been getting out there much because, frankly, the thought of being intimate with someone was frightening. You didn’t know how you’d ever get over it. 

“Have you sought out any partners to help with your fears?”, he asked.

You took a moment to process what he said. “No, I haven’t. I can’t. It’s too-“

“Frightening, yes I remember you using that word.” He removed his glasses before continuing. “I think there’s a way I can help you with that. Personally.”

You yawned. “What do you mean by that doctor?” 

“I can make you feel better.” He looked down at you and brushed your cheek with the back of his hand. 

“How do you mean?” You could hear the apprehension in your voice. He ignored your question and reached down to the hem of your top, lifting it slightly. 

You pulled back a little too quickly and you got a bit dizzy. “I don’t know about that Dr. Crane. I can’t- I’m not well.”

He ignored you. “I think it’ll be easier if I just take you here on the floor.” 

He dragged you off the couch and onto the ground, sitting up. The hardwood was cold to the touch but started to warm under your body. He kneeled next to you. You tried to fight him as he reached for your sweater. He grabbed your wrists to stop you from thrashing around. 

“I would hate to have to tie you up, sweetheart.” You knew he would follow through so you did what he wanted. You stopped fighting back.

He neatly folded and put aside each article of clothing he took off your body. Eventually, you were completely bare in front of him. You were almost too gone to grasp what was going on. Almost. The fear began to creep in and he could tell. Maybe the medication was not working the way he intended it to. Maybe he lied about what it was intended to do. 

You slurred, “Dr. Crane, please don’t- Please don’t do this.” 

He leaned over you and you tried to push him away. He only offered a small smile and reached his hand down between your legs. You whimpered as his fingers moved lightly over your clit. You mewled at the new sensation. You gave in to the feeling and your eyes started to close. When they wouldn’t open again Jonathan lightly slapped your cheek. 

“No, no, no don’t fall asleep. I need you to stay awake for me.”, he said. 

You fought the exhaustion and watched as he used his fingers to tease you. 

He noticed you getting wetter and moved his fingers down to your entrance. He slowly stretched you with two fingers, watching your face as your mouth fell open. 

A tight-lipped smile appeared on his face. He started slow and then moved his fingers in and out very quickly, hitting a new spot until he found the one that made your legs shake. You lied back and let him work on you. All you felt was bliss. No one had ever touched you like that. 

He took his hand away and you whined. This was a first and you were glad you made it this far. This was a win. 

You thought it was over, but then you noticed him unbuttoning his pants. 

Your breath quickened and you put your hand out. “Wait! Please, no! I think I’ve had enough for today.” 

“We’re not done with your treatment yet, princess. Please hold still. It will be easier for the both of us.” 

Your body was made of putty. The side effects had gotten worse. He brought your legs into position before grabbing himself in his hand. He stroked his cock a couple of times before entering you. 

He gave you no time to adjust. His pace was slow but he fucked hard. You gasped at the feeling of him inside you. You’ve never been fucked like this before. But, that didn’t matter to him. All he wanted was to feel you around him. Make you his. 

The sounds in the room sent you reeling. You didn’t know you would moan so much. The sound of his skin hitting yours filled the room along with his heavy breaths and moans. He grabbed your hips as he thrust hard and fast. You were having a hard time coping with all the feelings you were having at once. The fear, exhaustion, and pleasure were beginning to mix. You wanted to scream. Instead, you cried. 

Jonathan moaned at the sight. He loved watching you cry. He’d seen it happen during sessions and couldn’t help but wonder what it would look like if you moaned while you cried. Now he knew. You were unable to keep quiet. Silent cries became sobs which became whimpers. 

He caressed your tear-stained face, “Shhhhhh, hush now it’s alright. You’re doing so well.”

You tried to talk through your tears. “Please Jonathan- Dr. Crane, Make it stop!”

This time he went deeper. You yelped as you felt him hit a new part of you. “I’m not stopping until you tell me it feels good. Tell me, does it feel good?”

“Yes,” you moaned, “it feels good.” 

“Yeah? Are you still frightened? Are you scared of me?”

“Yes.”, you admitted. It was hard for you to get out. How could you ever fear him? All he had ever done was help you. This was just another one of his unorthodox methods. 

He bent forward and put his arms next to your ears, locking his fingers on the top of your head to hold you in place. Your body was limp as he continued fucking you into the floor. Your eyes closed; you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

He shook your head slightly. “No, eyes on me. Look at me.” 

You looked at him wide-eyed. 

“Open your mouth.” You obeyed and he spit in your mouth. In all honesty, you savored the taste. It was another way of him claiming you. 

“Swallow.” When you did he hummed contently. “Good girl.” 

You felt something weird tightening in your core. “Dr. Crane. I feel like I’m gonna-“. 

A long moan came out before you could finish your sentence. He fucked you as you rode your high and soon after his thrusts started to falter. He sat up and grabbed your hip to use as leverage. You mustered up as much energy as you could to move away from him, using your legs to drag yourself across the floor. He was much stronger than you at this point and he pulled you back. 

“No, come here. You’re gonna stay still while I finish. Got it?”

The tears kept flowing, but you obeyed. You lied back as he came inside of you. He stayed inside of you for a minute, savoring the moment. You were tired and blissed out. He pulled out of you without a word. He watched as his cum dropped out of you. 

“What a sight.”, he said matter a factly. He helped you sit up and wiped tears from your face with his thumb. He brought you close to him and kissed your forehead. 

He got up and put himself back together again. He fixed his clothing, tucking in his pristine white shirt and fastening his pants. He fixed his tie and looked past you into a mirror. 

Once satisfied, he grabbed a towel from his desk and cleaned you up. He helped you up to your feet and began dressing you. His demeanor was softer now. He took his time as he got you dressed. Once he was finished he helped you sit on the couch. You curled up into his side, seeking comfort from the man who had just used you. 

You’d never felt more confused. You knew this shouldn’t have happened. Every boundary had been crossed. But, the special attention from him felt better than anything. You fell asleep on his shoulder. He let you sleep on him for a while before he got up to write notes on what had just occurred. He found his glasses, put them on, and returned to his desk to begin writing. He included your reaction to the “medication” and how receptive you were to the treatment.

You woke up about an hour later, confused. You looked around and recognized his office. The memories of earlier events came rushing back. You felt your cheeks get hot.

Jonathan looked up from the paper he was holding up. “Rise and shine.”

He grabbed a sheet of paper from your file. He attached it to a clipboard and grabbed a pen. He handed you the materials and you looked down. It was another questionnaire. 

“Fill this out as accurately as possible.”

“What is it for?” You cleared your throat. He sat back down at his desk and picked up the paper he was previously inspecting. He looked at your file before looking back at you. 

“Our next session.”, he replied. 

[fiendishfables]

Camillo Carmine x Reader

General Headcanons (SFW + NSFW)

warnings: nsfw, mentions of blood, mentions of biting, cursing

words: 1.4k+

a/n: this was a highly requested work, so enjoy and have fun with the little bonus at the end! This is not really an x reader, but it could be read as such, so oh well. Let me know your thoughts on Camillo's character, and/or if you'd like to see more of him in the near future <3

SFW

✧˚ · . Camillo is basically like a big cat

✧˚ · . Tall motherfucker, standing at approximately 8,2

✧˚ · . The guy is very calm, silent, and sneaky all at once. If anything, he would make an excellent spy and has been offered positions before in that line of work

✧˚ · . Very independent; wont work for anybody but himself and is beyond stubborn

✧˚ · . He is a hardass, but underneath his tough, strong front, is an individual who is a giant kid at heart, who is so deeply loyal and giving that it hurts, and who takes all relationships he makes very seriously, as in he would gladly put his life on the line for someone he cares about; questioning his loyalty is the worst you can do

✧˚ · . Favorite colors consist of greys and purples of any shade; it always struck him as having more of an elegant, dancer sort of vibe, and the display of the colors usually help him to relax in times of distress. His whole bedroom is centered around that color palette and it hasn't been changed since he and Camilla have inherited the mansion

✧˚ · . On the subject of Camilla, he likes to annoy her. His real personality can start to be seen the more time he spends around his sister; they behave just like any normal pair of siblings would. The two have had a love hate relationship growing up and it still is that way, even if just a bit more watered down now. The two like to joke and hang around together every now and again when they aren't off busy with their own lives

✧˚ · . What a Carmine lacks in affection, they make up for in loyalty

✧˚ · . If you wanna talk about dancers, he is one. He loves dancing in his spare time and even uses the Carmine manor as a spot to host dancing lessons amongst sinners willing/wanting to learn

✧˚ · . His silvery pointed dancing shoes are like his literal children, and he always goes into a slight panic whenever he can't find them. They provide him with that sense of security, as dancing is a huge part of his life and he could never stand to be without it; they were also a gift from his mother

✧˚ · . Never likes to ask anyone for anything, especially not help. He likes to cover up his needs with smart-ass comments and handsome smirks that most can't stay mad at for too long

✧˚ · . Has been told he has a very punchable face

✧˚ · . His fangs make for a great, sarcastic smile; his face either consists of a frown or that signature smirk. He uses his fangs for a lot of things, including biting people when they get on his nerves

✧˚ · . Can totally play the piano; claims its a very calming and dignified instrument. He doesn't play it often but when he does, its a gift to anyone around to hear

✧˚ · . On the asexuality spectrum, identifying as demisexual and biromantic. It takes him a little longer than the average sinner to develop feelings for someone, let alone sexual feelings

✧˚ · . As stated before, his relationships are one of the most important things in his life and he handles them with great seriousness

✧˚ · . The epitome of that one secretive, mysterious, tall and mysterious stranger everyone wants to be friends with, but are too afraid to approach directly to ask

NSFW

✧˚ · . It's very difficult to get anything verbal out of this man when he's in the process of being intimate with someone, even if they're his s/o

✧˚ · . The most you can expect is some pleasured grunts, maybe some low groans if you're lucky

✧˚ · . It's not that he isn't enjoying whatever is being brought upon him, he is just one to closely guard his feelings and never really express them too vividly; yes that ends up following him into his sex life

✧˚ · . 9 times out of 10 he prefers to give pleasure rather than receive it

✧˚ · . Loves to degrade and use pet names with his partner; sweetheart, doll, slut, and whore tending to be some of his personal favorites to use

✧˚ · . Big on consent. If you are ever not comfortable with anything he proposes or is in the middle of doing to you, then he will stop instantly and get you anything you need. He may seem like an asshat sometimes, but he is a decent person (if that comes as such a shock)

✧˚ · . Into some form of pet play/leashes, no negotiation

✧˚ · . He always likes to be in control and rarely ever is the submissive one during intimacy.

✧˚ · . Will speak Spanish in bed, usually doing so in order to fluster his partner; it often gets him a positive response

✧˚ · . Being blindfolded is a big kink of his. As a dancer, he is used to having to be accustomed to other senses, so when they are heightened after his sight is temporarily taken from him, he will have a ball of a time

✧˚ · . One of his top favorite things is watching his partner ride him. Just the sight of his cock being sheathed inside your body over and over again as he watches you get off on his lap all on your own

✧˚ · . Dirty dancing is something he is much too fond of. The act of getting all worked up from dancing with one another, teasing each other all the while, then getting to fuck his partner into the ground, whispering praises to them about how well they danced with/for him; he is all too eager to teach you more of what he knows about the dancing world

✧˚ · . The little shit is one of the biggest teases you will ever meet. He honestly has a sex drive that's more so on the lower side and does not need sex as often as most sinners seem to

✧˚ · . But, be prepared when he does have the energy to pleasure you, for he is astounding at it.

✧˚ · . Kissing, biting, steamy makeout sessions, eating you out, fucking you raw; he can do it all and excel in the process

✧˚ · . His fangs usually come into play a lot during sex; a huge fan of biting and leaving marks on his partner to let others know that they have already been claimed

✧˚ · . Camillo is one of those demons you'd be lucky to have sex with. It's not even an egotistical thing, he's just not very sex-coded when it comes to relationships or really anything in general. He believes in a true connection with someone first before engaging in any sorts of those activities, hence his sexuality

✧˚ · . Sex with Camillo is always very serious and passionate. He never allows himself to be as vulnerable as he would be right now, so better to cherish it whilst it lasts

✧˚ · . It's almost like he picks one mate for life, then he's done looking, like some species do

✧˚ · . Thinking of it, when he really gets into action and the rare times he wants to have sex, he fucks like a wild animal. He does have his vanilla, gentle side where he will care for you nothing short of a husband, but if he has the chance or some pent up anger to release, you better prepare to go for multiple rounds of very rough sex

✧˚ · . To top things off, he does have a praise kink. It may be hard to pick up on at first, but if you praise him, let him know how good he's making you feel, he's a mess (at least internally). Nothing really gets him going more than knowing he is fulfilling his job as a partner; making you feel good in every aspect that he can. It gives him purpose and that's really all he needs when he's with his s/o

BONUS~

✧˚ · . One of Camillo's wildest fantasies is to have his lover cockwarming him whilst he plays a song for them on his piano. He can imagine struggling to not fumble over the keys, not let his fingers slip, as he feels you clench around him, biting his lip or your shoulder hard enough to draw blood in order to stifle any noises that may find their way past his lips. That vulnerability is something he knowingly holds sacred; you could potentially be the one to coax it out of him.

[mistyresolve]

| Hand to Hand - Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Word Count - 2.5k

Summary - After finally getting a moment alone with Ghost, those hours of waiting for him were worth it.

Tags/Warnings - 18+ Smut, Dirty talk, Heavy petting, Teasing, Grinding, Fingering, Praise

A/N - And last but finally not least.

Takedown ❤︎ Close Quarters

You were particularly snappy at everyone for the rest of the day, the frustrations that Ghost wound tightly inside you were making you irritable, snarling at everyone who looked at you the wrong way. 

It was also nearly impossible to concentrate. Every road leads to Rome and every thought leads to Ghost railing you in a broom closet. You could still feel his calloused hands rove across your sensitive skin, and the heat of his body warming your back. The sound of his voice. Low and steady. 

You eyed the clock, tapping your nails on your desk and chewing on the inside of your cheek. You had to fight every nerve in your body to keep from running to the training center as soon as the clock struck 10:00.  

How quickly this man reduced you to desperation was frightening. 

The moment you walked into the room, you could feel his eyes burn into you. He was glowering in the corner of the room with his usual, “Do not approach me”, mood. Until you entered. His head tracked you as you made your way to the benches. You stopped along the way to speak with one of the privates. 

Even with your back turned to him, like a predator with its prey, you could feel Ghosts' attention lock onto you. It made your toes curl in your boots, and heat pool at the apex of your thighs. From across the room, you could feel his hackles rise; his head tilting to the side in question. Surely, you weren’t testing him right now. Surely, you weren’t that dumb. 

You gave the private a sweet smile as he spoke to you; one that said “Take me out to dinner”.  If he was going to tease, you were going to do it right back. 

Ghost had enough. That was all he needed to see. 

“Everyone get in line.”       

Conversation came to an abrupt halt. You glared over your shoulder at Ghost and the glint in his dark eyes told you all you needed to know. He would be getting you back for that later. 

You stepped onto the mat with him, waiting for his introduction of what today’s training would consist of. Today was disarming and subduing. You situated yourself beside him, waiting for his command. 

He was doing a good job and not acting any differently in front of everyone. There were now awkward stolen glances, no hidden innuendos in his teaching. But his professionalism and self-control only turned you on more. 

His grip on you during his demonstrations is gentle, his thumb slipping underneath your sleeve to trace little shapes onto your wrist. It was subtle and almost innocent but it still made your heart race. It still made you want him to cancel today's training, and take you into an empty room to devour you. 

Hell, you’d let him fuck you right here…once everyone else, of course. 

You were in a haze the entire class. Followed commands and orders as well as you would any other day, but your attention was elsewhere. He without a doubt noticed your lack of cognition but never commented on it.         

He was so calm and collected that you wondered if you had dreamt of your interaction this morning. 

On most days, he would stay behind a few minutes after class to watch as the soldiers tried out their newly learned techniques. Sometimes giving them pointers and direction on their form. 

Not today though. He had plans. 

With you.   

At the end of the class, he leaned down next to your ear, “My office. Go. Now.” 

He didn’t follow you out the door but gave you a nod when you turned to give him one last look. He lagged behind you and you didn’t see him again until you were almost to his office.

He came up behind you, silently. His hand wrapped around your wrist and he steered you to one of the third doors on the left. The room was unlocked and the lights were off, the blinds closed. 

Spotless. It was so spotless that you wondered if he’d actually ever used this space.                      

He pulled you into his office, locking to door behind him. You didn’t have time to turn around before you felt his arms wrap his arms around your torso, his chest hard against your back. 

“Lieutenant,” you breathe, head lolling into his shoulder. Calling him by his rank was a force of habit and his proximity was making it difficult to think. The last time you two were in a similar position was when he stood you in front of the mirror in the gym. When you were exposed and desperate. 

You felt his returning groan rumble against your back, there was also the hint of a laugh in there. It was like you were on fire; like he was pouring molten lust directly into your veins. A hand gripped at my hips, pulling me impossibly closer to him, “Say that again.”

I twisted my head towards him, eyes wide, “Lieutenant?” I questioned, brows furrowing. Until I saw his expression, partially concealed by his mask, but his eyes gave enough away. He liked having you in this position with you call him that. He liked control. Dominance.       

He tucked you further into him, a stray hand trailing down the length of your body. It was like deja vu when his hands squeezed at your thigh, forcing your legs apart. His voice is low and husky, filled with authority and longing, “Say it again.” 

My chest heaved for air; air that was too thick with anticipation, “Anything for you, Lieutenant,” You turn pliable in his hands, rocking back into him.  His response to the title presses against the curve of your back. Hard and long. 

His fingers dig into your flesh, possessiveness evident in his touch. The both of you feel the tension building between you. Feel it grow and take form. He practically growls when he feels your body press against his, like throwing fuel into a fire, “That’s it…you know just how to please me, don’t you?” His hard cock pressed into you, aching to be inside of you. But he wouldn’t until he knew you were good and ready for him. Until he knew you deserved him. 

“Mhm,” You nod my head and bite your lip when his fingers curl to your inner thigh. He could feel the heat radiating from your core, your body eager for his touch. He inches closer, teasingly grazing against my clothes sex, eliciting a shudder from you, “Stop with the teasing,” you hiss through gritted teeth, as you try and meet his hand. Only for him to pull away, going back to gripping at your hips. 

He loved your sounds of frustration, and a hidden predatory smile played on his lips, “Do you trust me?” he asked. You almost cried out and tried rubbing your thighs together, but he stopped you, spreading your legs apart once more with a foot. His free hand wrapped around your neck, forcing your attention back into him. His cheek was pressed against yours, “Answer me or I’m going to leave you here. Alone and hopeless,” his voice was laced with dominance and solemnity. 

“Yes!” you blurted out, “Yes, I trust you, Ghost.”

“Lieutenant,” he corrected, “Keep your eyes forward.”

Your eyes snapped to in front of you immediately. With the state you were in right now, you’d jump from a roof he told you to. You started to protest when he removed his hands from you but stopped when you felt soft, warm lips on your neck.    

“Oh,” you choked, the sensation of his mouth on you was divine. He planted teasing kisses up your sensitive skin, sucking and nipping at you, leaving behind marks. A reminder of his possession. You reached a hand to his face, fingers dancing up his throat until you found his jaw. He moved away from your neck to press a kiss into your palm, before returning. You dared your hands to explore his face further, freezing when you felt soft hair. You had assumed he had merely lifted the mask to expose his mouth but he had removed it entirely. 

Your chest tightened. He had that much faith that you wouldn’t try and look. He trusted that you wouldn’t jeopardize his anonymity; and your safety. 

Your eyes fluttered shut so you could turn your face to him, finding his mouth with yours. 

His fingers traced down your sides back to your core. This time he didn’t hold back and pressed them into your center. You broke the kiss to moan. Finally. Finally, he was indulging you. Finally, he was allowing you some release. He made slow, languid circles around your clit.

Your clothes remained an annoying barrier, but he quickly remedies that by dipping his hand down the front of your pants. You tried rolling your hips down into his palm but he halted, “Patience, love,” you could feel his smile against your skin, hear how his voice dripped with amusement, “I enjoy watching you squirm and begging for my touch,” his breath ghosted over your ear, “and I’ll give you what you want…” he dragged a long finger up your center, “but I’ll do it on my terms. Got it?” 

“Yes, Lieutenant,” I wrapped a hand around his wrist, a silent request for him not to leave wanting like he did before. Your other hand reaches behind to splay your fingers over his erection, and he instinctually rocks into it.     

A primal growl rumbled deep inside him at those words, at your touch, “That’s my good girl,” he mumbles, losing his own mind momentarily. He revels in your pathetic, desperate motions as you try and stop yourself from grinding against his hand. He slips past your folds, spreading your slick arousal around your swollen clit. Then two thick, long digits delve into your wetness, warm and inviting. You blow a breath as you adjust to the intrusion. He curls them, seeking out the sweet spot he knows will unravel you. 

His tone is one of satisfaction, “You’re so wet and eager for me. I’m going to make you come undone, over and over again.” 

You practically melt in his arms at the remarks. He was going to be the end of you, you were sure of it. He was going to ruin you for everyone who was to come after him. He had hardly touched you and you could already feel a knot coil at the apex of your thighs.   

“Make me yours?” you asked, slick with innocence.

You could almost hear his pupils dilate, “Yes,” he snarls, “Mine. Completely and utterly mine,” with a possessive thrust of his fingers, “Your body, your pleasure, everything belongs to me,” he adds a thumb to circle your clit to intensify the stimulation. With your hand still rubbing at his cock and the feeling of you greedily clenching around his fingers, sends waves of pleasure coursing through him. He can’t help the deep guttural groan, his control slipping.

He’s nearly feral with possessiveness and it makes you feel…pretty. Irreplaceable. Desirable. You turn stupid when his head falls forward to say, “You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” his voice was a seductive rasp. One that was so different and so similar to his usually harsh tone. You never thought you’d live to see the day Ghost like this; Where his main goal was to make you feel good. The hand around your throat moved to your face, forcing your mouth back into him. He devoured you like he was hungry for your whimpers. Like he was being starved of them. 

He keeps up with the steady pace, his rhythm never faltering. He thrusted in deep, hitting that sweet spot every time. The sounds of your moans and gasps was music to his ears and he drove you closer to the edge. 

You forgot yourself, your name. Your body stiffened and your hands wrapped around his length. Faintly you could hear him groan, “Easy…let me do all the work,” The surge of pleasure shoots through him but he quickly intercepts your motions, guiding your hand away, “Not yet. I want to make you come first. Let me take care of you,” Lord, knew he wasn’t going to last if he let you continue. He curls his fingers deliciously and he continues his assault on your core. 

You can feel the tension building within you. He could feel your body trembling. 

“Give it to me,” he provoked. 

You were standing on the tips of your toes as your climax crashed into you. Fast and hard. Something snapped inside of you and you screamed his name. His hand covered your mouth, muffling your moans. You can feel your arousal gush out of you, feel it collect in his palm. 

Words become foreign to you but you can tell he’s praising you. He rose the high with you, following the lead of your body, prolonging it. He wanted to pull every ounce of pleasure from you. 

The only thing keeping you from collapsing onto the floor is the thigh he so graciously shoved between your legs and the grip he has on my waist. The feeling of his thigh against your still-spasming sex was overstimulating and your body convulsed at the friction. You whimpered when you saw him bring his soaked fingers toward his mouth and suck, and heard the quiet pop when he sucked and licked off your essence, savouring the taste of your desire. 

Mostly because he couldn’t find the will in him to wait until he was able to eat you out to taste you.   

It took you several moments for you to float back down to your body. And for your breathing to return to normal. 

Then guilt and realization hit you. He didn’t come. He was so focused on you that he’d forgotten about his own release. I pulled away from him, “You didnt—”

He cut you off with an open-mouth kiss his tongue tangling with yours. He claimed every inch of your mouth. You could taste yourself on him. Mixed with the pure intensity was intoxicating and sent a jolt of desire to his cock. 

He pulled away, hovering just millimetres away from you, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of myself. But right now, all I want is you. All I want is to feel you, taste you, consume you.”         

Masterlist

A/N - On a more serious note, my hometown of 22,000 has been evacuated due to wildfires, but I've decided to stay behind and help out. There are a lot of unknowns but there might come a time when aircraft can't land because of the smoke and the only highway out is currently on fire...Sooo, if I lose internet and cell service and I might go dark for a while.

Taglist - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎  @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes ❤︎ @adelaidai ❤︎ @ddioriez ❤︎ @johfaam0 ❤︎ @purplefishingline ❤︎ @dog55teeth​ ❤︎ @meaganjean ❤︎ @mymommmy​ ❤︎ @xheera ❤︎ @lockleywife ❤︎ @crunchlite ❤︎ @ryethebrokengae ❤︎ @mychrysanthemums  ❤︎@bugmanor ❤︎ @urbimom ❤︎ @bountydroid ❤︎ @ushisroa ❤︎@illyanam1011 ❤︎ @saddi3 ❤︎ @k4marina ❤︎ @unoreversecowgirl

[skibasyndrome]

Wilmon💜

"Do you think they heard that?"

cw: slightly nsfw, tent shenanigans. again, a throat... sounds.... 👀 if voice kink is a thing then Wille might have a light not so light case of it

"Do you think they heard that?" Simon's whisper is hoarse, the nervous giggle he follows it up with breathless, and Wille is once again overcome with affection. He can't help but start drawing a small pattern onto the skin of Simon's still quickly rising and falling chest. So warm under Wille's fingertips, so beautifully pliable. Wille never wants the moment to end and shifts to pull Simon even closer, one hand on his hips, one on his chest. Simon must be scared he's pulling away, because with an arm shooting behind him he's grabbing a hold of Wille's waist. "Stay," he pleads, so small and quiet that Wille can barely reconcile it with the loud moans of just a few moments ago. Wille presses closer, always closer, because he could never deny Simon a wish, let alone one so sweet and soft and breathtakingly earnest. There's a small groan when they shift closer, but Simon soon settles against Wille, on him, still around him. Wille wants to drink in every little sound that leaves his beautiful mouth. "I think we'll be fine," Wille says, instead of answering the question, and presses a kiss against the side of Simon's neck. Realistically, if they are still awake, Ayub and Rosh probably heard something. He hopes they didn't, but it's quiet out in the woods at this time of night. And Simon's never been particularly great at keeping it down, one of those many things about him that Wille loves, cherishes even, wouldn't want to change a thing about. But it really isn't all that convenient when they're somewhere with people just a wall away. And especially if the wall in question only consists of tent fabric. Simon throws his head back against Wille, damp curls dragging over Wille's cheek, and quietly groans again. "I'm sorry...," he mumbles, and presses his warm cheek against Wille's. "Sorry for... being a lot..." And that? Simon thinking he's wrong for not holding back? Wrong for gifting his sweet sounds to Wille? For letting Wille hear that voice in all its facets? That just won't do. Like by its own volition, his hand starts trailing upwards, away from the center of Simon's chest and towards his neck. He can hear Simon's breath hitch when his fingers first make contact with his Adam's apple. Can feel it move under the pads of his fingers. "Don't be sorry," Wille whispers into their quiet little space. "Please, don't be sorry, baby." He shifts his hand, extends his fingers, fits them around Simon's neck. There's no pressure there, no grip, he just cradles the column of Simon's throat in his palm. Cradles it like it's the most precious thing about him, it might as well be, hopes Simon can feel a fraction of his adoration through the soft touch. "No?," Simon whispers, almost imperceptibly moving back against Wille, trying to get ever so slightly closer, settling into the hold Wille has on him. "No," Wille whispers back. The sudden shift in atmosphere is letting a new heat course through him, one that he's sure Simon must feel as well. "You liked it?" Simon asks, voice low, but oh, Wille can feel the vibrations of his throat against his palm, feels like he's not only caressing his skin, but caressing his voice as well. He hums, deep in his throat, tightens his grip, just so, just a little, just enough for Simon to notice and feel that Wille loved it, that Wille loves him, that Wille loves that voice and all the ways in which it drives him crazy. Simon's moan tells him that he feels it, that he knows.

sdafghdflkghfdgl WELL HELLO! Don't ask, I guess I'm still firmly in camping redemption land, hehe. I hope you enjoyed this and I wanna thank you for the awesome prompt!!!! 💜💜💜

Send me "Wilmon" + a sentence and I'll wrie you 5(+) more!

[darkpetal16]

Do you have any head canons of what a relationship with dust after the resets would look/be like? How he shows affection, his struggles, etc,?

Yep!

It takes a long, long time for him to not think this is all one big fantastical dream. There are several moments where he’ll stare at you, or Papyrus, or Toriel as if he’s not certain he believes what he sees.

He’s jumpy. Not in any obvious way, but he has to sit closest to the door, he has to have full view of windows, he cannot have an open space behind him, children laughing makes him tense, etc. It’s really only a change noticed by Papyrus, since he was already like this when you met him.

He doesn’t tolerate human kids. He doesn’t hate them, he just. . . Avoids them.

Sometimes his pranks/jokes go too far. His sense of humor has significantly darkened from the repeated deaths & resets so at times he’ll slip up and say something that makes others in the room uncomfortable or upset. A lot of his humor is centered around death, murder, and gore now. This is most concerning to Papyrus who doesn’t understand what brought this change on.

He evades. Doesn’t matter how often or how sincere someone (ie Papyrus or Toriel) asks about him. . . He won’t give them a straight answer. He’ll deflect, sidestep, or outright ignore their questions.

If in a romantic relationship with him, he’ll sometimes answer you honestly about how he is. You know the full story, so when he says he’s having an off day you know not to ask why. . .

It’s easier to be with you than others. He didn’t kill you, so he isn’t haunted by that image every time he looks at you. They don’t understand the full magnitude of their freedom, or what it cost him.

He’s too tired to be grateful they’re alive. Maybe one day when he’s not so. . . exhausted. . . He can look at the monsters without feeling uncomfortable.

He doesn’t initiate often, but when he does he clings. When he goes to you for affection it’s not a want, it’s a necessity. He needs to touch you. He needs to hear your heartbeat. He needs to feel your arms around him. He needs you to stay put with him where he can see you at all times. He needs to hear you say that you’ll stay with him.

Some days he thinks back to how you literally abandoned everything to be with him and he looks at you like you’re insane. Then he grins. Because he’s insane too. You both make a pair, huh?

He stargazes. He stays up past midnight each and every night to admire the view. He soaks it all in. A part of him is anxious that everything will be RESET and he’ll never see the stars again. He has to admire them now and as often as possible.

He gets jealous easily.

He knows he’s. . . Well, he’s pretty fucked up. He knows you’re nothing short of a saint for not only going back for him and willingly entering isolation, but for patiently dealing with him during that time. He knows he is was an ass.

He doesn’t understand why you want to stay with him. He’s happy and grateful and he cares for you as much as he possibly can. . . But like. . . You can do better. He knows that. The right thing to do would be to let you go so you can find someone who will treat you well.

But he can’t. He can’t bring himself to do that. He selfishly wants to keep you and any hint that someone else might sweep you away has him seething.

He wouldn’t stop you from leaving but. . . It’d devastate him. You are the only one who can understand him, and if even you can’t stand him. . .

. . .

Dates are causal and quiet. Movie nights, stargazing, picnics—he really enjoys picnics, fishing, even scrapbooking. Just as long as it’s quiet and low-energy. He gets too stressed in loud / high paced environments.

He’s very good about reading between the lines / picking up on nonverbal cues so he can consistently read your mood well. When you’re having a bad day, he’ll keep you company. He may not know what to say but he’ll sit with you. He’ll listen, if you want to talk.

Papyrus won’t question you moving in with them.

But you also can’t question it when Papyrus moves in with you two. Sorry, they’re a packaged deal.

PLAY IF DUSTTALE HERE FOR HIS ROUTE

MASTERLIST

[deadboyswalking]

What a lot of fans are wondering, myself included, is "Where did MHA go wrong?"

I can think of several points that kick-started the downfall. This is not an exhaustive list, but just a few of the bigger flaws. It's a really long post, especially on the last point.

1. The reveal that AFO was directly responsible for all of Tomura's woes from before he was even born. This completely absolved society and his abusive family of responsibility, thus cheapening the manga's themes centered around those aspects of the manga's world.

2. Excessive focus on Endeavor at the expense of Shouto's feelings, actions, and inner world. It seems that from the Endeavor Agency Arc onward, Shouto's character is constantly underwritten and shoved aside so his father can get more screentime. Shouto's climactic, emotional final fight with Touya is completely undercut by the actual final fight of Touya vs. Endeavor, with the rest of the Todoroki family (Shouto included) basically sidelined to cheer Endeavor on. Even in the last Todoroki family chapter, the primary focus is still on Endeavor's feelings and not Shouto or Touya.

3. The complete character assassination of Izuku Midoriya. He was never the most interesting MC to begin with, but at least he had something going for him in the early arcs. He was weird, brilliant in battle tactics/analysis, brave and determined, endlessly compassionate, and completely insane. He had a real fire in him as a person and, unlike what many fans say, started the series with an awareness of the deep flaws in his society. People always say that the "save the villains" angle was shoved into the story during the first war, but it's clear from the beginning that the way Deku looked at his society already primed him to believe in that idea. During his mall encounter with Shigaraki, he actually showed that he'd carefully considered Stain's message and understood where he was coming from, even if he didn't agree with his actions. This is the story's first indication that if a villain has a genuine gripe with society and can explain it, Deku is willing to listen to what they have to say. Similarly, at the Sports Festival, he doesn't treat Endeavor with any of respect/awe he usually treats heroes with because Endeavor doesn't show the heroic values that Deku believes in.

So what happened to Deku? Honestly, I think he as a character disappeared beneath the weight of The Vestiges of OFA, Becoming The New Symbol of Peace, and Acting As The Author's Mouthpiece.

Joint Training Arc was the first indication that Izuku himself no longer mattered because of the OFA mythos and Vestiges inside him. Now, I don't mind Blackwhip because it diversified his fighting style and gave him a long-range attack. I also appreciated how hard he had to work to use it effectively and consistently. However, all of the other Vestige Quirks seemed to come to him way too easily and he could use them in perfect combinations without trying and against highly skilled adult opponents. The Vestiges started to talk to him constantly and give him advice, so his battle analysis/tactics were no longer necessary and he didn't need to come up with his own ideas anymore. More importantly, his own strong inner sense of justice and awareness of society's need to change was utterly replaced by some mystical Vestige-world bullshit about saving little Tenko. Adult Tomura was right there, clearly explaining his point of view and deep pain, and Deku didn't even listen to him (or really care when Tomura's body started being controlled by AFO). What happened to the independently compassionate boy from the earlier manga?

Being The New Symbol of Peace is another place where Deku had his character steamrolled. As flawed as the arc as a whole was, I actually had hope for him during the Dark Hero Arc. He was asking questions and genuinely trying to understand why villains became villains. He saw how civilians treated people with mutant quirks, listened to Lady Nagant about the HPSC, and witnessed tons of other abuses by society that made him angry. His eyes were opened and his compassion for Tenko Shimura deepened, priming him for the Final Battle where he would save the man and make a stand to change their society forever. Unfortunately, due to Horikoshi's inability to let go of the All Might and AFO dynamic, Deku's character was squeezed into The New Symbol of Peace mold and he forgot all about what he learned during the Dark Hero Arc in order to take out ShigAFO and let society stay exactly the same.

Finally, Deku was lost when he started Acting As The Author's Mouthpiece. The first sign of this was during Endeavor Agency Arc, when he told Shouto that he would forgive Endeavor "because you're a good person" and fawning all over Endeavor in general. I'm sorry, what? As much as Deku likes heroes, he was already shown to strongly dislike Endeavor because he didn't act like a true hero should and abused his family (people smaller and weaker than himself). Now one of your best fucking friends and his siblings are giving you more details of their horrific upbringing, including about their dead brother, and your response is that a good person would forgive Endeavor because he's trying to be better??? There is no canon justification for why Deku would do that type of 180°, but there's certainly an author that continually pushed more and more screentime for Endeavor and his feelings as the series went on. I wouldn't give a shit if this opinion change had any lead-up to it (as characters can change their minds all they want), but there's nothing in Deku's previously-shown character/personality that would lead to that conclusion. As the story went on, Deku mostly lost his introspective nature and stopped struggling with internal conflicts over right and wrong and what it means to be a hero. Instead, he just started mindlessly spouting whatever half-assed "message" the author wanted to show during any given scene with no regard to his previous opinions, background, or personality, often contradicting himself as the story's messages couldn't stay consistent either.

[finalgirlsamwinchester]

realised. dean is the perfect viewer avatar for a horror show. he gets to be both the action hero and the quippy, self-aware wiseguy who knows he's in a horror show. he provides a safe point; a comfortable power fantasy for you to experience a story through. he's ash in the evil dead. he's a gunslinging tough guy, and you get to see those moments where heroism sits on his shoulders like an ill-fitting leather jacket. and even when he gets his turn at being captured and victimised by the narrative, it's filtered through this mythic lens first. he's the tormented hero; tortured by villains, tortured by the constraints of his role. yeah he gets bruised, beaten bloody to a pulp, torn to shreds and killed, but his perception of reality never gets thrown into serious doubt (unless it's played out as a gag). the narrative valorises his sense of right and wrong, because that's what heroic stories do. their heroes provide moral center, regardless of how we might judge them. the lines dividing hero, anti-hero, and villian are paper thin, and dean isn't truly ever allowed to be ambiguous. and the hero always wins in the end, even when he dies.

meanwhile sam is the abject object of the horror show, a character who gets trussed up, chased, tied up, ripped apart, cut into, possessed, exploited, manipulated and psychologically hounded. he's carrie covered in pig's blood. he's the marginal person people are cheering on either to die - or to live past it all. he gets his turn at playing both movie monster and victim, always occupying the liminal space between both. abject horror lives within him. he's violated with demon blood, he consumes demon blood. he hates halloween because he vomited his guts up in front of a room of normal children. he will never get to be normal, he's designated the freak on multiple levels, but most significantly, by the way his narrative frames him. he's living inside a world that is at its core, fundamentally frightening and horrifying - full control over himself and his surroundings is always slipping away, just beyond his reach. his grip on reality and the world around him gets thrown into question by the story consistently. what's right? what's wrong? what's real? what isnt? the narrative punishes him - because that's what happens to you when you're living in a horror. he can never run away from his nightmare reality, it catches up to him like a curse nipping at his heels. the only way out for him is through the punishing fire. in order to survive, he's required to be pushed to the absolute brink of instability; emotionally, physically and mentally. he emerges out the other end, barely holding it together but somehow alive - like the bloody final girl, changed irrevocably by what she's experienced.

[thatgirlyourejected]

Yandere Opera x ex girlfriend reader. Prompt 2

You live like this? Clearly you need me to take care of you.

Trigger warning, smoking, depressing themes, yandere themes, abuse, homelessness, kissing, bondage, mentions of sex.

You lazily took a drag from your cigarette, inhaling the bitter tobacco; let it fill your lungs, infesting them, tainting them. With a puff a ring of rose, releasing the addictive substance into bitter morning air. You rest your upper body against your veranda, a small consolation attached to your otherwise decrepit apartment.

Things hadn’t been going smooth for you, your bloodline magic weaker compared to the rest of your siblings; not a good thing considering how traditional your family was, “only the strong survive.” You could hear your mothers voice echo with the taunts of your siblings. They were merciful enough to kick you out after graduation, rather than follow up on the promise of killing you. Things spiraled from there, with no friends or support so to speak, it was hard finding shelter, with little to no money there was a bit of time you were on the streets. Sneers of disgust at your grimy appearance we’re plentiful. Finding a job was equally as challenging, and you weren’t about to prostitute yourself, you still had your pride as a demon. So you scrounged, clawed, fought… and finally you found where you fit; a small time job working at an ice cream stand at an amusement park, newly hiring employees after it was demolished by a freak accident. It was small change but it was enough to live.

If you had to say anyone would’ve been on your side, it would be your ex Opera… well not really, you were just childhood sweethearts, things changed and you lost contact with him. What can you say that’s life, demons come and go.

You sigh heavily, flicking you cigarette. The past month had been odd, ever since you settled in to your apartment you couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on you. Thing moved, or disappeared all together; you tried writing it off as being forgetful, or just because of how messy the apartment was, but it was hard with how frequent it’s becoming.

The apartment was one room, you had a small cot, at the center, the kitchen consisted of a small folding table, a microwave, and a mini fridge, the bathroom was hidden by a curtain, leaving little privacy. Most of your thing were strew about in no particular order, seeing as you had nowhere to store them, clothing was folded next to the cot, under the cot was your essentials, laundry was piled high next to the toilet, the kitchen was filled with boxes of dried food, cutlery and dished stacked under the sink counter. With how mall the room was it left barely a path to leave.

Too deep in your thoughts you were startled feeling arms wrapping around your waist, kisses were planted on you neck, with a familiar purr. “Opera?” You recognized his scent, his purr. “You live like this?” He murmured. I hummed, “not much of a choice.” His arms tightened, “clearly you need me to take care of you.” He growled. I shook him off, “what do you mean? I’m doing the best I can?” I whispered, avoiding his piercing gaze. “Marry me.” It wasn’t a question.

You wished things hadn’t been so rushed, you wished you never agreed, but a part of you loved him and hated him. He was never around, and your resentment grew. You tried to leave, but every time ended with punishment that left you delirious with pleasure, sometimes you were left chained to the bed for days. If only you hadn’t be so desperate for a happy ending.

[gartenofbanny]

After I watched HezuNeutral's video and the more I think about it, yeah Hezu was right about Vivziepop lying in this tweet right here.

Notice how Vivziepop says that Hazbin "always" had a heavier emphasis on women-led stories saying as if it was always the case, but it hasn't. She's completely forgetting that she made two comics centered around the male main characters, Alastor and Angel Dust

An entire music video centered around Angel Dust

And she never attempted to expand on any other female characters with the only ones we know so much about being Charlie and Vaggie. Despite Niffty being part of the main cast, she doesn't have much going for her. Hell Cherri Bomb has more depth than Niffty does, but I believe that's only because she's around Angel Dust most of the time she's on-screen in both Addict and the Pilot.

Vivziepop is also forgetting the fact that Velvette exists. Velvette is part of the Three Vs who are the main antagonists of the show and is female. Despite this though she is barely even shown with her last animated appearance being from the pilot. There wasn't a teaser that shows her alongside Vox and Valentino, but there was just a teaser of Vox and Valentino both of those characters being male.

Who has made the most appearances out of the Three Vs? Valentino, who is a male character. Who has made the least appearances out of the Three Vs? Velvette, who is a female character.

Valentino even has his own fanmade music video that Vivziepop liked and who's included in said music video? Vox. Unfortunately, I've rewatched the music video a couple of times, and Velvette only made two appearances in the song. Her second appearance can be easily missed if you don't look closely.

Also, Velvette has the least amount of standalone merch out of the Three Vs. What I mean by "standalone" is that there isn't any merch consisting of that singular character. In Velvette's case, she only has three pieces of standalone merch.

A Tumblr user who goes by Demonic Dear brought up great questions about the recent merch sale mainly regarding Chaz. Why does he get all this merch and other characters like Moxxie's Mom who was introduced and died in the same episode don't? Why does Chaz have as much merch as one of the main female characters of HH already? Who I am referring to in the second question is Niffty.

Chaz has one suggestive mug, two playmats with one of them being suggestive, and a pin. Keep in mind all of this merch is for a dead character that's male. Niffty doesn't have that much merch despite her being part of the main cast of HH, but the new Spring Sale did show a new keychain of her....before her redesign. Come to think of it literally all of her merch consisted of her old design, what's going on with that? But, why is Vivziepop giving a dead character just as much merch as she is one of her main female characters for HH? Well Chaz is a horn-dog male character so that's most likely the reason why and you know this fandom really loves their sexy demons with no depth. All and all the more you think about Vivziepop's numerous tweets regarding criticism, it's noticeable that she just types this shit without thinking about what she's typing or contradicts herself either by her actions or words. But anyway, that's all I got for today. Thank you all for reading and I hope you all have a nice day!

[storm-angel989]

Eres jodidamente estúpida, niñita?

MAJOR SHOUT OUT TO absolut3lyn0t  for ALL the help with editing and for teaching me Spanish! I can't WAIT to use the things I've learned in the Outside The Office series!

Enjoy!!

I strutted across the stage with the confidence instilled in me by three of hell's most powerful overlords. My hair on point, my smile perfected, my outfit, killer. And my VoxTech watch that served as a location tracker? Sitting in my locker at school alongside my phone. As far as my family knew, I was staying late for volleyball tryouts. 

Walking through my highschool hallways, it was impossible to miss the plethora of help wanted posters plastered all over the walls. The job description was simple, requiring nothing more than excellent customer service skills and a large, bolded eighteen plus only need apply. The pay started five dollars above minimum wage, with the promise of hefty cash tips. 

The money was really what caught my attention. After listening to my father bitch about last month’s credit card bill, I decided it was time I started working, without the hovering of my father, my Uncle Valentino or my Aunt Velvette. I needed money that wasn’t connected to them in any way, shape or form- dollars I could spend how I pleased, and without their input. Unfortunately for me, my father owned VoxTech, the biggest company in all of hell. Even as his daughter, I couldn’t be sure where its tendrils spread. Whatever job I chose, I needed to fly under the radar. 

School first, you have more than you need and access to anything you could possibly want. Is what my father had told me when I first asked if I could start working. You have no reason to get an afterschool job. Focus on being sixteen, kiddo. 

And I knew damn well if my location popped up in some new place consistently, I would be discovered and forced to quit on the spot. So as soon as I made the decision to apply, I made it a point to tell my family I was trying out for the volleyball team. 

Glad to see you decided to leave behind that silly job idea, my father had said over sips of his morning coffee. Believe me, someday you’ll wish you didn’t have to work so much. 

As if. 

I walked into the address listed on the flyer, noting the shift in scenery as I made my way deeper downtown. Open interviews, they called it, two pm to ten pm. I had already filled out the application on the bottom of one of them, if you could even call it that. Three easy to answer questions. 

Age? I filled in eighteen.

Availability? After School hours. 

Size? I scribbled down the number. 

I followed the directions to the address on the flyer and handed my application to the demon at the door.  The place itself looked a little run down, done up in red, black and gold. But it certainly gave the appearance of being a high end facility- especially with the long stage and the pole at the center. 

I was quickly ushered inside and seated across from a shark demon in a red fedora. He looked me up and down and just like that, I was handed a uniform of red and hired me on the spot for the shift that started ten minutes ago. 

“With your body, I mean, your smile, you’ll make an excellent addition to our team,” he praised. 

“What exactly is my job title?” I asked as he led me to the dressing room.   

“Waitress,” he responded easily. “But really, you’ll do a little bit of everything. And don’t worry, we’ll provide everything you need.” 

The first few days were simple. The manager assigned me a false name the first day, and I quickly learned that while I was working, that’s the only name that was called. Honestly, it was the most difficult part. The rest was relatively simple. 

Every two hours the girls were required to meet behind the stage, walk across and out down to the pole, take a swing around with a smile as an announcer introduced us by name. It was nice, honestly, to be valued like that. The rest of the responsibilities were easy. Dress up, smile, flirt, take drink orders and find a reason to bend over. To say I didn’t enjoy it would be a lie. The money was good but the attention? Even better.

The fourth day, however, the manager pulled me aside at the start of my shift. 

“Hey, reader. The big boss is coming in. Check out his new hires. I’m putting you with him. Be extra nice. He’s known for leaving hefty tips and promoting on the spot. Trust me, you’re gonna want to keep him happy.” And with that, he pushed me towards the stage. 

After introductions, I put on my biggest smile, adjusted my dress so that it revealed just a little bit more and walked confidently over to the VIP booth. Time to impress the boss. 

“Hi boys, how are we doing tonight?” I purred as sultry as I could. “My name is Reader’s False Name and I’ll take care of anything that you desire.” I leaned forward onto the table. “And I do mean anything…” I reached out and set my hand on the red jacket of the man I assumed was the boss. “What can I get you tonight, sir?” 

He looked up at me and instantly, his expression turned to anger. Cold fear shot through me as I recognized the all too familiar features.

“U-uncle Valentino? Wh-what are you doing here?” I stammered as I took a step back. 

“The better question is what are you doing here, niñita?” He growled as he stood up. He pulled his coat off and yanked it around my shoulders, effectively covering my entire body. He grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me towards the back towards the dressing rooms. The door slammed shut behind us. 

I tried to wriggle away, “I work here! I got an afterschool job after Dad got on my case last month.” 

I didn’t think his expression could twist into deeper disgust. 

“I changed your diapers! You can’t be working in my clubs!” He snarled. 

I crossed my arms. “Uncle Val, I’m sixteen!”

“Eres jodidamente estúpida?” He took a deep breath. “That’s half the issue! Who even checked your age una perra ciega?! What fuckwit hired you?” He paused and pulled out his phone. “You know what? It doesn’t fucking matter. You’re fired. Whoever hired you is fired, hell I might shut this entire fucking club down. Oh, and it goes without saying that you’re fucking grounded!”

I looked at him incredulously. “You’re grounding me for getting an afterschool job?”

“No, reader, I’m grounding you for taking an afterschool job at a strip club! Oh, and for leaving your watch at school. We make you wear that for your own safety, muñeca! You could have been killed, or raped or worse!” 

He grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me towards the front door.  I caught my father’s name on his phone screen and my heart sank even deeper. Fuck. 

 “You’re going home with me right now, bebita. And keep my jacket on, I don’t want to see your tits ever again.” He practically spat as he shoved me into his awaiting limo. 

I sat next to him for the duration of the ride, my arms crossed as I listened to the phone call between him and my Dad. From what it sounded like, I was about to meet my maker.

“Phone. Now.” He demanded as he outstretched his hand. “Or did you leave that at school too?”

At least he sounded a bit more calm. Maybe I wouldn’t be in as much trouble as I thought. 

“It’s in my locker,” I mumbled. “Along with my homework. So if we could stop on our way home…”

“Delay the inevitable all you want, your father is pissed. And so am I.”

“Yeah, I got that,” I mumbled as we stopped in front of the school. “I’ll go in and…”

He snorted in amusement. “Like hell you will. I’ll go inside and get it for you. What’s your locker number and combination?” He leaned forward, “it’s in your best interest to tell me, niñita.” 

He was probably right. I sank back as I watched him walk into the front office of the school as if he owned the place. Come to think of it, there was probably a high chance that one of the three did have some sort of control over the school. I leaned my head against the window as I waited. I would never be allowed to grow up, hell, after this Dad might not even let me leave the V tower. 

Valentino stalked out of the school moments later, my pink backpack slung over his shoulder, and one of the flyers in his hand. The other hand held his phone and I winced at the furious slurry of English and Spanish came flying out of his mouth. Several curses later, he ended the call and turned to me. 

“Any of your other amicico’s get involved in this? Fess up now, or I promise I will make sure that you lose every privilege you have.”

“Not that I know of,” I mumbled quietly as I pulled his jacket tighter around myself. “And I would tell you if I did.” 

“I would hope so, cariño,” he grumbled as the limo stopped. “Word of advice? I would go straight to your room and change. The less of you your father sees, the better.” 

We rode in silence in the elevator and as we stepped off, I came face to face with the furious faces of my father, Vox, and my Aunt Velvette. Uncle Valentino walked towards them and wordlessly pointed to my room. I tried to scurry away as quickly as I could. 

“Change, wipe that clown makeup off your face and get your ass to the living room,” I heard my father shout. 

I thought the makeup was pretty, I said to myself sarcastically as I stood in my bathroom shower, scrubbing it off. Without the makeup remover the restaurant, or should I call it a club, provided, taking it off took ten times longer. I pulled on my leggins and a sweatshirt and braided back my now wet hair, hopeful that by removing any trace of the club I would somehow lighten the punishment that was sure to come. I slowly made my way out to the living room. 

“Come sit, little princessa,” Valentino gestured. “Join us.”

I kept my eyes down as I made my way across the living room and sank into my usual seat on the couch. 

“Look at us, reader,” my fathers authoritative voice filled the air. “And start talking. The floor is yours.”

A few heartbeats of silence while I tried to gather my thoughts. 

“You know, staying quiet won’t help your case,” Velvette interjected. “Come on, talk to us. Honestly, I think it’s pretty funny.”

“There is nothing funny about seeing my little princessa half naked, tits out, in my own fucking club,” Valentino shot back. He mumbled something in Spanish that sounded vaguely insulting.

“And let’s not forget the danger you put yourself in,” Vox added. “You left your phone and tracker in your locker at school. You’re lucky I don’t have the doctor put a chip in your arm.”

“I didn’t know it was a strip club, okay?” I said in exasperation. “I just wanted to make my own money! I got mad when Dad went through the credit card bill last month and I just, I just wanted privacy and to buy what I want without being questioned! And I’m willing to work to earn it, but Dad wouldn’t let me.”

“Reader. You’re sixteen. You need to focus on schoolwork, grades and being a teenager- you’ll have plenty of time later in life to…” my father began.

“Vox, her request isn’t unreasonable,” Velvette cut him off.  She looked thoughtful. “Nor is your idea about the chip in her arm.”

All three of us stared at her in disbelief for completely different reasons. 

“I am not letting Dad put a chip in my arm-” I began.

“She is not going out to work,” my Dad shouted at the same time.

“Eres jodidamente estúpida?” Valentino added. “The fuck, Velvette?” 

A grin slowly crept across her face. “Well then, it seems we have a few bargaining chips on the table, don’t we?”

“I don’t like where this is going,” I said.

“Yeah, neither do I,” my father added. 

“Well the way I see it, we have a few options and plenty of room for compromise,” she said with a glance at Valentino. “On one hand, reader could concede and let Vox put a chip in her arm in exchange for being allowed to get a job. Or she could come work for one of us, and have the money deposited in a private account. Or a third option, Vox if you’re so hell bent on her focusing on school, and she wants privacy so damn bad, let her open her own account in her own name and deposit money into it each week. This way she gets the privacy she wants, and you get her staying focused on her studies.” 

“I’m not letting you put a tracker in my arm, so that options out,” I replied.

“And I don’t want you working at all- not for me, not for Velvette, and certainly not for Valentino,” Vox added. 

A look of understanding broke across Valentino’s face and he grinned widely. He leaned back, “then I suppose the third option is the only one that fits, hm amicito?” He took a sip, “I do have to ask though princessa. How exactly did you plan on cashing your paychecks without your own account?”

I felt myself turn red. “I…wasn’t planning on cashing them and just using my tips.”

“I can’t decide if that’s clever or stupid,” Vox muttered. “But fine. We’ll go open your own bank account tomorrow and I promise to keep my eyes off of it. But you need to promise to keep focused on your studies, got it?”

“Deal!” I said excitedly. 

“Also, I think you owe your Uncle Val an apology more so than any of us. I haven’t seen him that scarred since, well, I’ve never seen him that upset.” Vox added. 

“Sorry, Uncle Val,” I muttered. 

He looked pained, “you’re growing up, mi amore. But this isn’t the place for you to be, ever again. I fear what would have happened to you if I hadn’t chosen to come in tonight.” He stood up and planted a kiss on my forehead. 

“Your jackets in my room, Uncle Val. I promise I’ll give it back,” I muttered as embarrassment flushed through my face. “I guess it was kinda sketchy.”

“Common sense, niñita. I cannot wrap my mind around why you didn’t turn around as soon as you stepped into that neighborhood.” He turned to walk towards the kitchen. “Discussion for tomorrow night, I suppose.” 

I frowned, “what’s tomorrow night?”

“Oh, you didn’t hear? Your papi, Aunt Velvette and I came up with a brilliant consequence, if I do say so myself.”

Dread knotted in my stomach. Uncle Valentino was well known to be the most…creative in his punishments. 

“I signed you up for volleyball, mi amore. After all, isn’t that what you wanted to do?” He gave me a wicked grin. “And I’ll be the one…ensuring you arrive in a timely manner for the next eight weeks. And don’t worry, your papito already brought you all the equipment you’ll need.” 

I groaned. This had the potential to be not only incredibly embarrassing in terms of my abilities, but also I somehow doubted he would sit there quietly. The image of him sitting on the bleachers, screaming into the phone, cursing in Spanish and English made me want to die right then and there. “Uncle Val, I hate sports. And I hate team sports even more.”

“Then maybe next time you’ll think before becoming a stripper, hm conejito?”He patted the top of my head and sashayed towards the kitchen. 

He couldn’t be that angry if he was using my childhood nickname. I leaned back on the couch and tucked my knees up. 

“You’re lucky that's your only consequence,” my father grumbled as he scrolled through his phone. “That chip idea isn’t off the table, you know.”

“We’ll get your bank account set up after your grounding is done,” Velvette reassured me. “In the meantime, what do you all want to do for dinner?”

Thank god Velvette was the master at changing the subject.

[godisshook]

The Golden Boy

Noah was the definition of a golden retriever boy. He worked in our community, loved people, and was incredibly kind. The guy was essentially the second coming of Christ, and unfortunately, my next-door neighbor. We were always in the same classes, and while we had a few talks, our personalities seemed vastly different. I wasn't kind or even very nice, but I wasn't ashamed. I loved drama, hated people, and was always on my phone, never doing anything for anyone unless I had to.

Senior prom season was rolling around, and I had contemplated not going, as every other person I could call a friend wasn't going either. As the morning of promposals come around, I chill in the cafeteria with my best friend Victoria. While most of my friends weren't going because the idea of prom makes them vomit, Victoria was a little different. She was going out of the country the day of prom (yes I was incredibly jealous) and she had even received a promposal, but had to turn it down. As me and her chat over school pizza, I notice Noah and a procession of people walk into the cafeteria. "Well, at least he's consistent in being corny," I think to myself. Before I could even fully look back down, though, I notice him walking to the back, towards ME.

I could not even begin to run as he taps my shoulder from the center aisle, and dropped the fated question, "Will you do me the honor of going to prom with me?" I try to feign sarcasm, but the invite was kind of cute, and as the two girls next to him hold up big YES and NO signs, I slowly stand up and walk over to the NO sign girl, and as Noah's expression starts to fall, I jerk back and grab the YES sign. As the silent anticipation turns to cheers and yelling. I appreciate the moment, but realization hits all too fast, I would actually have to GO to prom.

As that day comes, I walk out, and see Noah smiling widely. "You look breathtaking," he says, and I blush slightly, but catch myself and refocus. He opens his passenger seat door, lets me in, and walks over to the driver's side. The drive to prom was full of small talk, and a lot of me trying to figure out why in the world he would invite me to anything, let alone prom. He remains vague, but as my prying intensifies, we arrive to the venue.

The dance was relatively nice, and as prom king and queen is announced, Noah unsurprisingly wins king, with a girl named Naomi winning prom queen. The rest of the night goes as well as it could, with Noah getting pulled aside every other second to attend to something, and me standing in various corners scrolling on social media.

Summer would change a lot, including Noah. Even before graduation, he had been working out regularly, but as summer rolled around, he would intensify his regimen by a thousand. The worst part was that he looked really good. It seemed as if he was destined to succeed at everything, having the world handed to him on a silver platter.

The only thing he never truly got was me. Even though we had talked more after the prom date, there was still no romantic lead to things, and at most I saw him as a close acquaintance.

One morning, as I go to get my mail, I notice Noah jogging up to me, clearly heading to the gym as it seems. His pecs and biceps were bulging through his tank top, and I couldn't help but notice. "Hey, eyes up here," he says, chuckling. Even I could admit that I giggled at that statement. We once again engage in small talk, and we talk about college plans. I had been trying to figure out what school he was going to since graduation. He hadn't posted anywhere about it, so it was anyone's guess. I realize he's going to the same state school as me. It was a nice school, and people would come from out of state to attend, so people usually gravitated to it anyway.

The rest of my summer is incredibly boring, with me barely leaving the house, and only occasionally encountering the real world. Social media is flooded with classic summer pics, which makes the indoor prison I was rotting in even worse. As college finally rolled around, I felt strangely hopeful, at least it would be a different venue.

Fall semester would roll around, and my mission of self-improvement would begin. I would go out more, make an effort to be slightly more active, and at least attempt to be friendly. My efforts were not in vain, but I definitely didn't have the overnight success Noah seemed to have. After seeing him flex his massive biceps in the gym, I vowed to never go again, forsaking that place. I will never forget the grin on his face as he noticed me, that god-damn grin.

Fall semester passed quickly, and as spring semester came around, change was in the air. Noah immediately would join a frat, which was the same one as his dad (of course). And he remained his same soft oblivious self, which somehow was even more annoying, as the fuckboy energy lay unused. My courses this semester were far easier, and I would barely go to class, only going if I liked the teacher.

When classes wrap up for the day, I start to head home. As I walk down the main road of the campus, a guy hands me a calendar and says, "Enjoy!" I look back at the guy and then look at the calendar. It was one of those sexy fireman calendars, but instead of firemen, it was frat guys. I hide the calendar in my bookbag for the rest of the day. When I finally get home, I take a good look at the calendar, and each month showed increasingly hot guys, and I continue going through month by month, looking for that familiar face. Lo and behold, the guy for September was the man himself.

Noah and I would text occasionally, and he would give me invites to his frat parties, and would usually drive me back as well. We still weren't in the same circles, but we would make an effort to hang out with one another.

It would be a pre-spring break party that would change everything. Noah would send the invite on Monday, telling me to "Be there or be square!" "I know the absolute corniest frat guy ever." I think to myself as I read over the text. The week passes, with very little in terms of big events, just someone burning themselves in chemistry class.

My week gets spent brainstorming outfits, and inspiration strikes as I spot a cute crop top and pair it with the shortest shorts I can find. As the day comes, I take some accessories and complete the outfit, and get picked up by Noah. The car ride there is relatively talkative, with us talking about our classes and our plans for spring break.

The party was packed on arrival, with people out on the balcony, and crowds of people both inside and outside the frat house. Noah tells me to find him if I have any trouble, and we go our separate ways. The party goes from midday to the dead of night, and people come in and out, keeping it busy at all times. As the liquor begins to hit, I search for Noah and find him by a wall, shirt now half on.

He smiles and waves me over, and we start to chat. With my words slurred, I try to ask him, "How drunk are you?" He laughs and replies, "Kinda buzzed, lol, but not as bad as you." Noticing how I was, he offered to take me to one of the rooms upstairs to recover, which I accepted. When we get in the room, I look at him from the bed as I take sips of the water he brought me, and I eye his body.

As I begin to sober up, my drunkenness becomes horniness, and as no other outlet was near me, Noah would simply have to do. When he gets back in the room, he sits down next to me on the bed. I turn to him and eye him with sex in my eyes. He looks back with a sweet yet determined stare, and I make my move. Before I could even fully lean in to kiss him, though, he takes my neck and pulls me in for a kiss.

Still kissing all over me, we slowly both stand up and move towards the bathroom. He pushes me in and starts lifting my shirt up. My hands follow the form of his abs, and he groans with pleasure. My hands go lower and lower until they reach the rim of his underwear. I gaze at him slyly and start to lower his shorts. His cock was throbbing in his underwear, and he looks at me as if he was going to die if I didn't do something about it. I start off by wrapping my hands around his member and stroking slowly. "Fuckkkkkkk" he grunts under his breath. My mouth replaces my hands, and I start sucking.

Before I could finish my good work, we hear a knock on the bathroom door. A frat guy yells, "HURRY THE FUCK UP" as he starts to bang on the door. I look at him, and he looks at me, looking clueless. Even as he stands in front of me practically naked, he's still his innocent self. We put our clothes back on and leave the bathroom, only to discover that the guy knocking already left.

After that, we start chatting even more. He would constantly check up on me, and always put me first. I still would think about the look on his face, and how he was grunting, not knowing he was kinky at all. When we discuss this over text, he calls himself a "soft top" to which I reply, "lol, have you even topped anybody?" He sends a laughing emoji back, and we talk about random things for the rest of the night.

Spring break comes to a close, and we go back to our regular schedules. Noah and I had been talking even more consistently, and at this point, we would start to flirt with each other, but neither of us would ever commit to it. This arrangement suited me personally, as commitment was truly one of my worst fears.

Noah would start taking me out more, and we would get coffee each day, which he would use as his excuse to check in on me. All this behavior seemed very boyfriend-like, but I paid it little mind, as it meant I got to sleep in his comfy room.

I was going to his place regularly at this point, and while we had still not hooked up since that spring break party, we would watch movies together and relax. One night, as I start to doze off while watching The Office, Noah wakes me up with a question.

He asks me, "Am I your boyfriend?" The question hits me like a ton of bricks. Mustering as much confidence as I can, I reply, "I mean, I would hope so." "Good," he says in a low tone. Just like that, I had committed to Noah being my boyfriend. Before I could even fully process that, he begins unbuttoning his sweater and lays down on his bed.

"Come here."

I never expected to hear those words, but they cause a flood, and I climb over as he pulls my face in to kiss. It's more aggressive this time, hungrier, hornier. He was using his own tongue, and moving all into my mouth. He pulls off my underwear and pulls my ass towards him, and starts eating me out. His tongue swirls all inside me, and I can only let out moans to describe my pleasure.

"Do you want to suck it?" he asks, and I nod quickly as he pulls down his sweatpants and underwear, revealing his cock in its full glory. I start licking his tip, and he grunts in a near growl. As I move down it, his voice gets even lower, and precum starts to build on his tip. I lick it off, and he smiles.

Sweat coated his face as I sucked around his cock, his head jerking back. He would pull off his sweatpants, and he held my head while I was sucking his dick. I climb on top of him, and his cock stands up tall under my ass. I take his cock in my hand and slowly bring it to my ass. As the two make contact, I moan as it starts to fill me up, and he groans and grunts as it slides in. Moving slowly up and down his cock makes him groan even more, and as I come up again, he would take his arms and grab my ass fully, and start dropping me down onto his cock.

"Noah!" I shriek as he pushes me up and down. He stops suddenly, and says, "Say my name again." I say his name continuously as he lifts me up and hoists my body against the wall, sliding his cock deep into me. The pleasure causes me to shriek, as he pushes me up and down continuously. He throws his head back in ecstasy, and his body tenses up as his cum fills me up. We get back on the bed, and I get a devious idea.

I go back down on him immediately, sucking him again, he winces and says "I already came," I immediately reply, "Well then do it again." He blushes, and I keep going, and as his cock gets hotter and hotter, jets of cum come out again, filling up my mouth. I swallow it and give him a smile.

Afterward, he makes sure I'm all cleaned up and makes me dinner, bringing it up to me as I lay in bed sore. He lays back down next to me and asks, "Do you wanna know something?" Between bites of chicken, I mumble a reply, "Wha-?" "You're my first." I look at him and say, "Oh, I know." He jabs me in my side, giggling, and I laugh back at him. When I finish up the food, he puts the tray away and starts getting ready for bed. He turns on a movie, and I lull to bed.

Noah's alarm startles me awake, and he apologizes as he kisses me awake. "I'm just gonna hop in the shower, feel free to chill and do whatever." I wrap myself under his covers and put on Spongebob, watching away as I delay thinking about my own classes. My lab class was an hour away, and I contemplated going as his warm covers take me to a level of comfort unseen before. After what seemed like seven years, Noah finally gets out of the shower.

He came out of the shower looking absolutely majestic, and as I start eyeing him, he looks over at me and says, "Are you gonna do something or just stare?" That lab class would simply have to get skipped because duty called. I eye him back, and he starts tugging at the knot on his towel. "I think it's only fair you come over to me," I say from my position under the covers. "Your wish is my command," he replies. He starts walking to the bed, undoing his towel.

When he gets on the bed, I shift over to him and start giving him a hand job. He taps me and says, "Skip to the part where you use your mouth." I smile and oblige him, sucking to my heart's content. He bucks against me and groans loudly.

"You're doing so gooood," he says in a breathy tone. I smirk up at him and start going down. As I continue, Noah starts to get quiet and all of a sudden, waves of cum are on my face. "You look so good with my cum on you," he says, laughing. He pushes my mouth on top of his cock. His dick completely blocks my throat, and I start to cough and choke, as I push myself off of his dick he grins at me and says, "Sorry, I couldn't help it." I smile back at him as he cleans me off with a towel, and we cuddle on the bed for the rest of the day.