#// terrible stuff but! we persevere.

[fishermcn]

// in every verse, every world with one samuel whist, there is a ring on the man's left hand. when he worries, when he frets, soot-stained fingers twist and rub the ring without thought. when he shouts, when he rages, it's cold against his clenched fist and bites into the skin.

and when he sits, when he grits his teeth, when he polishes it and polishes it despite knowing it'll never quite gleam again, he wonders why it was him and not her.

[cambot77]

When you mentioned Becky doesn’t know how to budget, I came up with this short caption.

Anya: So, how’s living like a “commoner”?

Becky: Oh, it’s been great actually. I’m shopping for my own food and getting stuff that I like and good for me. Don’t know why you make things so hard?

Cashier: That will be 200.

Becky: Okay, just put it on the blackbell account and bag it up please.

Cashier:…I have no idea what you’re taking about.

Becky: I-Oh! I forgot, you see my dad is making me live like a working class person as a punishment and usually when I buy something I told them to put it on the blackbell account. But I forgot about that.

cashier: That’s great, you still own 200 for all the food.

Becky: I don’t have that much money, can I pay the what I have and pay the rest when I’m done with my punishment?

Cashier: *Baffled* I’m sorry but we don’t give stuff away.

Becky: So what can I do to pay this bill?!

*Later* Anya:…That uniform matches your…socks.

Becky, in a cashier uniform: I feel remorse for you Anya.

Aaah, Anon! This is great! So sorry for the late response - I've been thinking about this for a long time, though.

----

Becky shut the locker door with a snap and took a moment to rest her head against the cold metal. The employee breakroom was deserted at this time of night as most of the other closers were either finishing their final tasks or had already gone home for the night, but Becky being new (and therefore slow at her job) still had to mop the aisles of the store and put the go-backs on the shelves. She had slipped into the breakroom to take a breather, and the pounding at her temples echoed the pounding of her feet where they pressed against the still-stiff pleather of her new work shoes.

To say the day had been hellish was an understatement. She had thought that this last day of her first week would be a bit easier than previous days, but she had been wrong. The milestone meant nothing, because even though seven days had passed, Becky was still struggling to master even the most basic tasks of this, her first job, ever. Which she shouldn't even need to have in the first place! How was she to know that Daddy had been serious about his threats to cut off her access to the Blackbell money if she moved in with Bill while they were still in college? It was ridiculous to still think like that these days, but he had actually meant it! She had been shocked when she had tried to make purchases at her usual stores and been denied, and a quick trip to the bank had just confirmed that Mr. Blackbell was playing hardball with his rebellious daughter. Well, two could play at that game. Becky had always prided herself on her resolve, and if her father thought he could bring her to heel and give up her independence and love using money, of all things, then he was sorely mistaken.

That still left the matter of how to afford things. Bill had his own savings but Becky had never saved because she had never needed to. That had been a very frank conversation between them, but Becky had been confident that she would be able to contribute. Getting a job had never been a goal of hers, but after all, people went to work and made money every day. How hard could it possibly be?

Apparently, very, if her aching back and oncoming headache were any indication, and that didn't even begin to touch on the positively awful way some of the customers had talked to her that day. Who knew people could be so terrible over trivial things? Was it her fault they had run out of sale items, or that all the cashiers had decided to go on break at once? No, and yet she had borne the brunt of their anger just because she had been close by at the time! She wasn't even a manager! It just wasn't fair!

But she'd persevere, because the alternative was just too awful to think about.

Her father would pry her housekey with Bill out of her cold, dead hands.

Filled with fresh resolve, Becky stood up straight again and slapped her cheeks to get some life back into her. Just half an hour to go, and then she could go home to the apartment she and Bill now lived in. It was modest (to her eyes, it was still larger than most family dwellings in the city) but nicely furnished, and Bill would be home, waiting for her, to kiss her and tell her she had done well that day and make everything worthwhile again.

She smiled to herself. Yes, it was all worthwhile just for that. For him. Because she knew that he would work jobs like this - or even worse ones - if it meant they could be together. How could she do any less in return?

"Becky!" someone called before they opened the breakroom door, and she looked up just as Dwayne, the manager on duty, came in.

"There you are," he said, and rifled through a stack of envelopes in his hands. "Thought you'd left already."

Becky shook her head. "I still have to do the mopping. What are those?" She gestured to the envelopes in his hand. Dwayne looked at her curiously.

"Our pay packets? Today is pay day, you know."

"Oh!" Becky exclaimed in surprise and delight. "We get paid in envelopes!"

"Uh... yeah." Dwayne handed over the envelope with a raised eyebrow. She had put a different last name on her hiring paperwork, so her lack of general commoner knowledge sometimes caused her co-workers to look at her strangely because they did not know one of the richest heiresses in Berlint was stacking cans amongst them. She knew they thought her an escapee from a boarding school or some such thing, but in that moment, she did not care. Becky ripped into the envelope eagerly. Finally, all of her hard work was paying off!

Then, her face fell.

"This... this is it?"

Dwayne was already going back out the door. "If you have an issue, call corporate payroll. And don't forget to leave out the wet floor signs when you mop this time."

Becky slumped against the lockers, not in defeat, but in something very much like it. How could a week of work only earn the sum in the envelope? She did the mental math, but each time, the numbers didn't lie.

She had spent more than this on a single meal in the past, and now looking back, she cursed herself for her wastefulness. Money wasn't just numbers in a bank account or an intangible, invisible thing to her anymore; it was hours of work, discomfort, and real, hard proof of her efforts. It meant food in the cupboard, lights in the apartment, heat, hot water, all of it. It wasn't a certainty anymore but it was still a necessity, and as she stood there and counted her pay one more time, she realized something equally important.

This was the moment her father had been counting on to break her. He had probably hoped that when she tallied up her pay and expenses and saw the imbalance, she would be swamped with hopelessness and come crawling back. Becky Blackbell, after all, was used to nothing but the finest, and there was simply no way that her meagre paycheck could sustain even a fraction of that lifestyle no matter how much Bill could supplement it with his own money.

And there was a moment (brief yet fierce) where her soul did quail, and a small voice whispered that a simple phone call would make it all go away. She could be back home in her huge, luxurious bed before midnight, snuggled up and safe with all the Blackbell fortune like an invisible wall behind her...

But she would be alone in that bed, and no fortune, however large, could replace the strength and security of Bill's arms.

Becky swallowed down the fear and uncertainty and firmed her resolve once more. She would just have to work harder, or even get a second job, whatever it took to make it work. She was sure that plenty of people had survived on less than this, and besides, once she was graduated and had her degree, why, she could earn even more! There was nothing saying she had to work at grocery stores for the rest of her life! And Bill's career in the Army was also pretty much guaranteed, so really, there was no reason to buckle now! They were just getting started!

And they would stay together. That was what really mattered to her.

Of course, they would have to tighten their purse strings a bit... maybe she could forego her morning coffee to save some money...

She mopped the store as quickly as she could, plans and budgets spinning in her mind while she worked, and by the time she stepped outside she was full of her usual cheerfulness again.

That cheerfulness only doubled - no, quadrupled - when she saw who was waiting for her.

"Darling!" she cried out happily as she took a running leap into Bill's arms. He caught her easily and she reveled in how tightly and happily he held her. How could she have thought, for even a moment, that she could survive without him?

"Hi, sweetheart," he smiled as he held her with her feet dangling off the ground. "How was work?"

"Horrible," she said with a smile, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Have you come to take me home?"

"Of course, you know I don't like you wandering around by yourself at night." He looked stern and protective and Becky felt her heart melt just a little.

"You're so sweet," she sighed. She squirmed to be put down. "Let's go home."

Bill did not let her go, though. "Actually..."

"What is it?"

"Well... your dad called."

Becky stiffened. "Oh?" The last time she and her father had spoken had been the day of their blow out fight, and she didn't like to remember it if she could help it.

Bill's expression gave nothing away. "Yeah. He wanted to talk to me, actually."

Now Becky was really alarmed. She knew her father had nothing against Bill in particular, had even been happy when the two of them had started dating, but still. He had also been adamant that only a wedding ring would allow Becky to live with a man, and as she and Bill were still only "engaged to be engaged," she didn't think her father had called to chat with Bill about the weather.

A horrible idea came to her.

"How much did he offer you?" she snarled. Bill looked taken aback behind his glasses.

"What?"

"To give me up. How much? One million dalc? Two million?"

"Becky, that's--"

"Don't tell me he offered less?" Now she was really outraged. "Oooh! Put me down! I'm going to march straight to his office and tell him just where he can put his bribe money!"

She fought her way back down to the pavement and Bill lowered her, but he kept his hands around her arms to keep her from storming off.

"Listen!" he insisted over her ranting, and she huffed into silence. "He didn't offer me anything."

"So he threatened you instead?!" If Becky had had fangs, they would have been out. How dare her father even think--

"No," Bill said pointedly. "He called because he wanted to talk about you and me -- not like that! Listen, sweetheart! -- he wanted to make sure my intentions are pure and honorable, basically. And he wanted to know how you're doing. He's really worried about you, Becky. When I told him you were working overtime at a grocery store, I think he just about fainted."

"Well, he probably thought I'd come home by now," she allowed as she crossed her arms. "But the only home I want is with you, so the sooner he realizes that, the better."

"I think... I think he realizes that now," Bill replied hesitantly. "I told him the truth: we are definitely getting married and I'm absolutely serious about our future together no matter what. And he knows you're serious, now, too. So, he wants to come over tomorrow to talk it over with us, and maybe he'll give us living together his blessing after all."

"I don't need his blessing," Becky retorted, then softened. "But it would be nice to have."

Bill gathered her close again. "I know how much it means to you to be on good terms with your father, sweetheart. And who knows? Maybe if he gives us his blessing he'll give you access to the family bank account again."

Becky pulled back to insist once again that she didn't care about the money, but she saw the twinkle in Bill's eyes and knew he was joking. She batted at his chest ineffectually.

"Even if he did I certainly wouldn't spend like I used to! Did you know, things cost actual money? Like real, tangible sums?" She looked up at Bill and saw him stifling back laughter. She pouted.

"I mean it! I worked my butt off all week, and the paycheck barely covers our food bill! I tell you, when we get home we are going to have to make some changes."

"Who are you, and what have you done with Becky Blackbell?" Bill laughed tenderly, and then tugged her close as they turned and walked towards home.

--------

Well, this certainly spiraled out of control! I do like the idea of Becky working some crappy job and realizing, oh my gosh, this is how normal people have to live every day. How does anyone do it???

Of course, Bill's money is probably more than enough for them to get by, but it would still be finite and so horrible customer service job for Becky AU is born!

Lol, thanks for the idea, Anon! :D

[melissa-titanium]

id like to preface this rant with a picture of my cat & also a disclaimer that this isn't like. a vent or a call for help ir anything i just like musing about this stuff. talking outloud to myself if you will. i'm doing perfectly well right now but im thinkingggg and id like to spill it somewhere so it doesnt overflow. i don't think i'll be replying to responses if there is any but i'd definitely love to /read/ responses if youd like to share your own thoughts. :)) <3

ok. my cat as promised

alright. ive been thinking. i have always been rather pessimistic, a product of my youth and developmental environment, so i like to take my thoughts with a grain of salt with the understanding that what i see things as can be wildly different from other people. essentially i try my best to be self aware, but i have slip ups. we all do!

and again, i know dark times in your life pass, they always will if you're strong enough to persevere! i'd know, after many terrible terrible times i came close to the brink but managed to bounce back. i have everyone i have ever met over the years to thank, i could not name them all but especially hellholians. even if the server will never have the same amount of activity, even if we are all different people than who we were during the fucking insane years that were 2020-2022, those were some of the most influential years of my entire life & i have so many great and terrible memories from that time. i don't know if i truly have any influence in other peoples lives as they do in mine, but i'm glad to have been atleast a small part of everyone there's life. hellhole got me through some of the most inane fucking bullshit i have ever experienced in my life and even if i was an annoying piece of shit back then i am glad everyone tolerated me. ok sentiment over ill be here forever if i dont end it.

essentially. to reiterate the sentence i derailed. i know everyone has dark times in their life. and i know a good support system and spite can seriously help you get through those times... but to take from a good metaphor i saw some time ago that i can't find the source for the life of me; what do you even do once you've escaped the dark? you lose so much blood on the way to freedom that once you're out of that terrible place you can't do anything but collapse in on yourself. the adrenaline has run out and now the only thing thats left is the husk of what you were before the darkness hit. in some cases people have evidence of who they were, proof that they were /someone./ but i suppose in my case & others ofc, the terrible things happened so consistently and so constantly that i (and again, others) had no chance to even create that concept, to get an idea of who "i" am. sometimes it feels like ive been hollowed out and left to dry in the sun, other times it feels like ive been shattered into a thousand different evershifting versions of myself, and other times it just feels like i'm not even in my body. i'm not acting like this is a unique experience in the slightest, i know damn well there are people who have had it MUCH worse than me. it just frustrates me sometimes to be so little of a person that never existed, especially when people often force their ideas of who that person was onto me.

to describe things a little less cryptically -- i don't know who i am. yeah, i'm not supposed to have it all figured out at 15, i'm not fucking stupid, but sometimes it just feels like i'm falling so behind in the self-discovery department. so many people i know seem (SEEM, i know it isn't always that way on the inside) to be confident in who they are and how they present themself to other people, and then i'm just there struggling to differentiate the dream i had three weeks ago with present reality & juggling three different terrible outcomes to a conversation i made up in my head & also debating whether to kill everyone i know in cold blood and dissapear off the radar. every single interaction i have with people is some fucked up infinitely and needlessly complicated labyrinth of a mindgame. i suppose im getting tired but basically i feel like why im so bad at maintaining friendships is i can never ever find a comfortable level to talk to people with until AFTER i've had time to analyze them & how they behave so i can react accordingly. it's not necessarily that i'm accommodating for them, it's that they've already accommodated for me & i'm simply reflecting their behaviour. if i ever say i'm being sincere, but talk completely and totally different to another person, i'm probably not lying. i've been asked by a handful of wonderfully insightful people (whom i love. you know who you guys are <3) who have sort of unintentionally helped me understand these pwrts of me. but for now im going to sleep intotally lost the motifve of this rant uhhw

[snor-re]

Alcoves

I hide myself away in the alcoves of fiction

Away from this sickening world and its conviction.

Cruel snarls and grabbing hands

Long to take whatever they can.

I hide my face in poison ivy

Turn away from were it’s bloody.

It’s so hard too look when there is nothing I can do.

But there’s guilt and I have to, cause it’s worse for you.

I hide in my books and I hide in my music.

Where all is metaphor and nothing is truly.

I hide my pain with words and stuff it were it can not hurt,

Not you not me.

It’s deceiving, it’s only dulled.

It’s the bullet piercing through your skull.

I can’t hide from this when you live it every day.

So I watch you bleeding through my phone and stay.

01:08 04.09.2024

I am guessing that everyone reading this already figured it out, but this poem is about reflecting what watching the genocide happening in Palestine feels like to me.

And for this topic it is important to understand that two things can be true. It is true that terrible horrible things are happening and it is true that I am terribly overwhelmed by it. It is also true that I am allowed to feel that and talk about it.

That does not, however, constitute ignoring it. I am not saying it is.

These poems are about me and my feelings. They are for me to express and project my inner emotional workings into tangible things. If I feel guilt for being overwhelmed when others have it worse, I am going to write about it. That does not translate into real life actions like ignoring it. And even tho others have it worse I am allowed to feel sad and hurt and overwhelmed. And I am allowed to talk about it, so do you.

Suffering is not a competition, someone’s hurt doesn’t take away from anyone else’s.

I am also of the opinion that talking about not only what is happening but also what it does with us. Because this is turning out to be a long term issue (it was before, now it’s just deadlyer). I myself often recognise the Impuls to look away, because it hurts to look at. And the longer it goes, the harder it becomes. That’s why we have to talk about it, we can not look away. These protests can not be shorter lived than the issue, we can not give up before it’s solved.

Because people are dying.

I think that a discourse about what it does to us, watching, is essential in easing the overwhelming nature of it all and enabling us to stand strong and loud with perseverance.

So this is my appeal; find your friends and really anyone who you think would be a good conversation partner for this and talk, talk, talk about it. :)

21:12 04.09.2024

[lcec0ldheart]

Time to introduce my OCs‼️

Oh boy! Here we are!

Since I’m beginning to use tumblr, I can now finally introduce my trio of disasters! I’ve been waiting a while to start talking about them, and I think putting them here is better than info dumping on my private account lol. With that out of the way, let’s go!

VIOLET STARIUS⭐️🌙

(Funfact: She’s the newest of my ocs, being first made only a month or two ago! Loosely inspired by Liko, but she’s changed quite a lot since then!)

The first, and youngest of the trio! Violet is 14 years old, her birthday being January 31st. She’s a curious, intelligent, somewhat shy gal. Kind, empathetic, caring, and wants to help others. She loves space -and in the pokémon version of her- pokémon as well. You’ll find her reading, drawing something, or playing her violin, and while she’s a bit nervous, she’s open to try new things to learn them, as she wants to learn what does the world around her hold! Though, Violet’s a bit forgetful, clumsy, and gets lost easily…She’s also a bit of a people pleaser, and is terrible at lying. The heart of the group, as she’s why the three have managed to form a strong friendship.

Violet has the ability to use telekenesis, via focusing energy using her hand onto objects (or people!) to move them around, to wherever she wants them to go. She can also see in the dark, hear very well, and her eyes glow in the dark for some reason…While she doesn’t like to fight, she’s good at dodging and using the oppenent’s movements against them.

FROST AURORA❄️🏹

(Second image is a shitpost. Funfact, he’s the first oc I made that’s listed here, being first thought up in november 2023!)

The second of the trio! Frost is 15 years old, his birthday is December 25th! He’s a more reserved/aloof guy. He’s also quite smart, especially in terms of tactics and fights! Frost is swift, chilling, and tenacious! Sassy, and he can get angry or spiteful. Despite this, he’s pretty considerate, and stands up for what he believes is right. Frost is somewhat stubborn, antisocial, but he wants to do the right thing. You’ll find him practicing the gutiar, drawing, or thinking. He wants to find his purpose and be strong for those he cares for -even if it means taking drastic measures.

Frost has the power to cool the temperature of stuff to the point it’ll freeze, being able to create ice and snow out of the water droplets in the air. He can manipulate ice too, and he’s skilled with a bow and arrow! He usually goes in for a fast attack, then getting out of the opponent's range until they’ve been defeated, though he knows how to put up a fight in close quarters as well.

CITRINE GOLDENHEART🗡️💛

(I still need to actually draw her, but this will have to do for now. Fun fact, the first concept of her was “what if this cartoon character was in pokémon”)

The last, and the oldest of the three! Citrine is 16 years old, and her birthday is on April 13th! An adventurous, hot-headed, brave and passionate girl. She can be impulsive and sometimes fails to consider the consequences of others, but she means well! Outgoing, reckless, and tackles things head on! She’s the most athletic of the three, being physically strong with good stamina. Citrine’s also very persistent, and will literally refuse to give up. Ever. It’s both one of her greatest strengths and flaws. She likes to play the drums, or go for a run, and…write? I know, surprising, but she loves creating stories, to tell during her journey or inspired by her adventures!

Citrine is real good with a sword, she was very excited when she found one! Turns out she likes stabbing and slashing whatever stands in her way! She’s best in close combat, using her sword to deliver strong attacks to deal a lot of damage! She tends to get hit, but being so perseverant and stubborn allows her to keep fighting until her opponent falls.

I hope that wasn’t too boring to read, but now I’ve introduced my main OCs! I’ll probably ramble about them on here, if you don’t like that sorry lol, this is my blog im the one writing about these idiots at 10 pm

Joking, though it is actually late! Thank you for reading all the way through, and I hope you have a lovely day! Bye byeee

[kisara-kaiba]

strength + headcanon?

Ohhh, that's a super interesting headcanon topic, thank you <33 I'm gonna go ahead and write about my headcanons for what Seto and Kisara think strength is versus what their strengths actually are, as well as what makes them strong together.

With Seto, obviously he thinks strength means not relying on/being dependent on others, whether that's relying on them for emotional support/comfort or practical help and assistance, and to go through life without letting traumatic stuff (both past and present) affect you. And I do think it is a strength of his to be able to persevere even with the terrible things he's been through as a child and manage to turn it into something good what with how he's changed KaibaCorp.

But it's also obviously a weakness to not be ready to ask for or accept help and support and to make yourself so alone because you think you have to be. The fact that he's so stubborn and firm in his convictions is definitely both a strength and a weakness.

I also think that his devotion to and passion for the things he does allow himself to care about, Mokuba, the Blue Eyes White Dragon, Duel Monsters (and Kisara if we imagine an ideal blueshipping au), is a real strength for him, bc it drives him and motivates him (although I think he'd resent having it put that way himself, since it essentially boils down to his ability to love being a strength lmao, which would be cheesy stuff worthy of Yugi & friends in his opinion).

Anyway, Seto definitely thinks himself stronger than he really is, while I think the opposite is true for Kisara. I think she sees herself as weaker and less capable of fending for herself than she really is, at least physically (since my headcanon for her tends to be that she is very physically weak and small, in some of my fic concepts to the point of disability, at least in human form). Not that I think she's a damsel in distress type either, I do think that she like Seto is hesitant to rely on others and is therefore fairly self-sufficient, but in her case not because she sees it like weakness but because she doesn't want to be a burden. Still, I think it's a major strength of hers that she's so kind and endearing and sees the good in everyone, so she has an easy time getting along with people and making them like her and want to help her (which is definitely the opposite of Seto). Another strength that she does share with Seto though is that I think she's very mentally resilient, she's been through a lot of shit and been really badly treated but still come out smiling and without bitterness (which is, ofc, unlike Seto). Unfortunately I also think she believes strength is being able to just take any abuse thrown at you and not lash out, which is obvi not great. I also think she has the tolerance and patience of an angel too, very hard to irritate or rile up, because you'd need to have that in order to be able to put up with Seto lol.

With all of that in mind, I think their strength as a couple would be that they compliment each other pretty well in regards to a lot of these things. Kisara is able to see the good in Seto even when he's at his prickliest, grumpiest, most stand-offish, and therefore able to also bring out the good in him and make him see this too. She is also able to step in and be diplomatic when Seto's about to throw hands with someone (also she doesn't let herself get riled up when he's being combative, she doesn't take the bait). At the same, Seto would be fiercely protective of Kisara and definitely throw hands without hesitation with anyone who would dare mistreat her, and therefore be able to make her see that she doesn't deserve to be trampled on and that it's okay to stand up for yourself if someone tries to do you wrong. He'd also be so very devoted and adoring of her that it'd help her see her own worth in a different light (basically, he's her perpetual hype man). (okay, I'm gonna stop rambling now)

[skippyv20]

Hello friends, seeking solace today…a friend in Canada slipped into conversation that they were watching the H&M lies…I politely pointed out that she’s backing the wrong horse and that this shitshow is full of so many lies debunked by so many, but no, she’s “team Meghan” all the way, and was quite dismissive of the fact that not everyone who’s come into contact with her is inherently wrong but all these people including our late queen obviously got it wrong, I called her out that she wouldn’t believe me even if I presented her with a file of truth, and drew the line there, it was just such an uncomfortable situation because she’s very much an “anti colonialism” white feminist who doubles down on her beliefs because it’s seen as being right. Why people can’t see that their favourite liberals aren’t liberals at all, think critically, and accept being wrong in their stance is beyond me now. It was disgusting to see how she classed this whole charade as entertainment and I pointed out this isn’t entertainment at all, according to her “Canadians see the BRF as celebs and not public figures” which is totally false, the BRF form a part of our government, our society, and our global presence, they have to he apolitical but everything that’s been going on is deeply political, it just doesn’t involve booths or virtue signalling stickers, frankly Skippy it just pissed me off because it’s becoming more and more apparent that the “left leaning open minded” types are mostly made up of those who only believe what they want to believe, and blindly follow stances like “ACAB, BLM, and believe all women” whilst ignoring the problems within these movements, which aren’t always exclusive with general principles…it’s just rotten, and has really angered me that she was so flippant and normally I would’ve just let it happen but I respectfully pushed back to point out when she tried to suggest my stance was based on being British that that wasn’t the case at all and my stance is based on seeing things as they are. I’ve never been a fan of Meghan and found her acting in Suits borderline unwatchable because she’s an awful actress, a bit like a lot of Emma Watsons acting over the years (terrible), and never warmed to her from even the days of “dating” Harry, and I trust my gut, in the past I ignored her and it led to years of narc abuse and I’m done with sitting back and especially done with listening to friends talk out of their arse and refuse to acknowledge that not every criticism is hate and a lot of the stuff being called out is true, and that H&M have broadcast their whole li(e)ves for public consumption. They are not and never will be victims. I feel quite sick today and have decried to take some time away from this friend and leave her to it, and remember that God and the truth will persevere regardless of how many “progressives” want to side with evil because it fits their sense of righteousness, it’s unbelievable, but then again, the truth these days has been marketed as such. Prayers and comfort to you all. I’m glad you’re here, and keep fighting the good fight.

Thank you….your friend is wrong indeed. Canadians love the BRF, and we especially loved and still do love our Queen. We have never seen them as celebrities, we loved the mystic of them. Sometimes, it is best to walk away. Sometimes it takes people longer to realize they have been conned. Yes, the truth always comes to light. People thought we were crazy because we saw what they didn’t…they are now seeing. It’s been a long road, and it’s patience, tolerance and faith that keeps us going. I personally can only deal with this all, because I love to laugh. It is so ridiculous….I just can’t help myself. They are entertainment….just them. Don’t be upset with your friend. Don’t let all this ruin friendships or put distance with family members…..just laugh at it all….they are blabbering, and no one is listening….Thank YOU for being here🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[recomms]

Tomorrowland is a movie released in 22nd of May, 2015. Frank Walker, an inventor boy, joined the New York World's Fair in 1964 to sell his own made jetpack. Unfortunately, his jetpack was rejected by Governor Nix, the owner of "the future" or what we call "Tomorrowland".

Alongside Governor Nix is Athena. Athena is a recruiter of people who perseveres, work hard and does not give up which in the movie called "The Dreamers", and Athena believed that Frank is a dreamer. Athena got interested with Frank. She gave frank a pin which will be his ticket to enter the other dimension using teleportation to enter Tomorrowland. Tomorrowland is a place where shows the future. It is advanced and predictor of the future. Athena and Frank got well with each other and got close. Although Athena is a robot, she fell inlove with Frank, a human.

Out of Frank's cleverness, he invented a machine where he can see the exact event in that specific time. The time you'll die, the time where the world will end, the time where everything will happen. And because of this, Frank got kicked out of Tomorrowland, as well as Athena. They closed all the doors for the both so that they will never enter the future again.

Athena, after 25 years, found a dreamer named Casey Newton. She is a girl living with his brother and father. She does not want NASA to be demolished that's why she break into the site and do terrible things to stop the demolition. She always sneaks in and out not until one day. She was caught by the police and got arrested. Her dad bailed her out of the prison and the police made her sign the clearance and for her to retrieve her stuffs.

While she was picking them up, Athena slid the pin in her stuffs unknowingly so that Casey would pick it up. After Casey picking it up, Tomorrowland flashed before her eyes and got to travel in it. The pin gives the dreamer a simulation of what the Tomorrowland will be.

The pin suddenly ran out of power and Casey's enjoying it, she rushed to find another pin to a store which she found online. Little did she know that the staffs in that store are robots trying to find Athena. Right before Casey get killed, Athena made her entrance to save Casey from the robots trying to find her.

Freaked out, Casey tried to outrun Athena but she's faster that a bullet that's why she failed in running away. Athena dropped Casey in Frank's house and asked for help to bring her to "that place". Frank refused but Casey's a silly and never gave up. Robots followed her at Frank's place but managed to escape.

They teleported to Paris to use the rocket that rips dimensions to enter Tomorrowland. When they got there, Governor Nix welcomed and accommodated them. Nix showed Casey "the monitor" where they can take a look backwards and onwards the time, which is the invention of Frank and the reason why they were kicked out.

Casey believed that whatever you do TODAY impacts the events of TOMORROW. And because of this thinking, she realized that the Monitor is not just broadcasting the future, but influencing people that it is the future affecting their response and action of today. When they presented this idea to Governor Nix, Nix tried to sabotage them. Nix tried to kill Frank but Athena sacrified herself to save Nix from being killed.

Because of this, self destruction of Athena was activated. And before exploding, she confessed everything to Frank, which brought Casey and Frank to tears. To destroy the monitor, they utilize the self destruction of Athena and their mission to change the future was successful.

They rebuilt TOMORROWLAND and made robots to find dreamers on Earth, and the story goes on and on, repeating itself.

[the-firebird69]

My husband is a clever person he says our stuff is working on us because I'm starting to get really mad that these idiots can't figure it out and then see the data and they see it live even and they don't understand it or something did you saying something in the video that's Taylor Swift ready for it like I don't exist and she's fighting herself or someone put some implant in her that you can hear things it does happen but no we're real and I'm sick there's morons they think the max for them and they're running around saying some really stupid s***we need to set up some rules and a border to keep them from coming out and yeah a lot of them take that way

Hera

It's really systemic they're very stupid people they're running and this guy Trump is the top of the pile and next to our son Trump you don't have a rating you're so low you're a common better than you say it out loud. And a lot of times you don't know what we're talking about Cherry cheeseman is low but no one near hello you are cuz terrible he says he's like a commoner we've been trying to tell people that Sarah too there's a lot of commoners think this dumb s*** and they're running around yelling it where they are and we should hit them others of theirs want to be there we're going to show them not tell them

Thor Freya

Good we accept that we're going to fall through with it I'm tired of hearing it and we want more of our people to shut them up when they're insulin against us that takes time and effort we need people to raise people up in the ranks to facilitate and we're going to send out the order now.

Olympus

Olympus is screaming it like me we need ours to sign up we need to have the initiative we need you to show individual strengths and the will to persevere through this war but also you need to show that you're willing to be in it to stop it faster to save people if you're not signed up you're not doing your duty Zeus Hera say and it's true

[aikoiya]

Curse Shoulder Spirits: When Frisk finally arrives, do Undyne + Alphys + Sans + Asgore become better or worse (with their Spirits haunting them)?… Will Sans actually try to keep Toriel’s Protection Promise?… Does Mettaton still want to destroy Frisk, despite knowing that if he does, Frisk will become Mettaton’s personal Shoulder Spirit? 👻👻👻

Well... Undyne & Sans I see being very stubborn & resistant. Most likely getting worse in different ways rather than better. Probably thinking that they're lying.

Alphys, I see getting worse in a very different way, but also kinda better depending on your perspective. For her, she'd get worse in a feels guilty & hates herself way. We could say that part of the reason she became so depressed in the first place was having to see a miserable little 5-6 year old girl with mousy brown hair in adorable pigtails either weeping in a corner, screaming in pain, or just quietly sitting curled up in a ball of depression against a wall.

It'd very much be like an abused child trying to keep out quiet & not make problems for her abuser in hopes of being spared. As a result, I think that Alphys would be unable to experiment on Kindra's soul or body. So Sans would have to. However, Alphys would also be unable to stop him from doing so due to her cowardice. Kindra's thing's heart would break every time Alphys would dissect another human or extract DT from another soul. This would eventually lead to Alphys having to leave that stuff to Sans. However, she would be able to bring herself to inject DT into the fallen down monsters because she really, genuinely believes that she was helping them. Which would just further crush her when they started melting together. Kindra screaming in fear & sadness would not help either.

I see it going either way with Mettaton. Though, I think that it's more likely for him to try to find a way to unbind his Clarice from Undyne & to him, then try to convince Alphys to try & research a way to create a body for Clarice the way she created one for him. Doesn't mean it would work as I don't actually see ghost monsters as actual ghosts, more so monsters who heavily resemble ghosts as otherwise would indicate that they'd once been alive & human.

I feel the same way about skeleton monsters because if they were true skeletons then they wouldn't immediately crumble to dust after being killed, they'd simply fall inert, the bones still there.

In this way, ghost monsters are innately different from actual ghosts. However, I do believe that ghost monsters are keyed into, let's say... the same wavelength as actual ghosts.

Either way, it depends on you whether Alphys would make a change & try to befriend the girl. If she does, it'd take a long time but it's possible. Like, no matter what, I see her remaining a coward & being unable to tell anyone else about it because, at first, she's convinced that they'd call her crazy.

Asgore, however, I see becoming both better & worse too. And much like Alphys, he worse due to the guilt. However, I also see him being better because he's got a better relationship with her from the get-go. Now, the ones that were actively killed were, in order, Patience, Justice, Integrity, Bravery, & Perseverence & all of them were at least 12-13 at the times of their deaths. And, like I said before, at the time period when Patience was alive, that was considered being an adult.

Likewise, before the monsters were sealed, they too would likely have believed the same. As such, depending on whether this changed over time like it did with humans, the monsters might not have even considered them kids.

The only one that could've conceivably been seen as one was Kindness & that wasn't intentional. So, it's likely that both Asgore & Patience simply viewed that as a terrible tragedy. That doesn't excuse the fact that Asgore did not change the law or that Patience didn't try as hard as she should've to convince him to repeal it, but it goes a long way to explaining why they were able to let it keep happening.

In this way, I can see Patience getting uncomfortable with the fact that someone she considered a child had died. Asgore as well.

[riftstudiosnyc]

Tips on How to Set Up a Recording Studio

There are essentially such countless things that should be considered. The room, the recipient decisions and courses of action, soundproofing and acoustic treatment, studio screen decisions and position... it's a broad once-over. I've focused on everything broadly. I really don't accept I'm especially proficient about the field. I manage It-Yourself plans and cost useful stuff choices that make audiophiles snicker. Anyway, I'm okay with that, since I've never chosen to satisfy them. My establishments are in punk music. So for my motivations, getting the show really has as a ton to do with the idea of the music as it does the creation. So I for the most part mean to find a lovely place ground. Additionally, I think I've really had the choice to do this in my recording studio.

 I bring had the choice to the table for a huge help to local entertainers who essentially don't have the resources for keep in the master recording studio. I never had the money all the same. How might you think I showed up? In a perfect world I have a satisfactory number of cool tips and beguiles available to me to help the novice with entering the universe of sound recording. The connection needn't bother with to be terrible. It won't at any point be basic, but it will in general be less upsetting.

Begin with the room. In case it doesn't sound perfect, then, at that point, stop. Time to take action. Place bass catches in the corners to help with cleaning up the low-end thunder. Place broadband protections at basic reflection concentrates generally through the room. There are a ton of DIY deals with both of these. I integrated my own bass catches by loading fiberglass into a self-developed frame with wire. I then, at that point, covered them with non-clever material. For the reflection centers, I essentially grabbed some affection seat cushions off the roadside and used them. Anyway, I made sure to shower them down with sanitizer sprinkle. Both of these game plans will help tremendously. Collectors will get what you feed them, so it's apparently truly shrewd to give them something pleasurable to process.

Incredible studio gear doesn't have to go with an unsafe retail cost. We ought to research intensifiers. An unassuming bundle of Fracture Studios could help you through an entire gathering at whatever point used the right way. Furthermore, there are moreover different various brands that give quality strong mouthpieces at a spending plan cost. Do some assessment. Check out at some intensifier shootouts on the web. Condenser intensifiers may be expected to get the ecological sound of the room. A matched arrangements of condenser mics is by and large the choice as overheads for a drum set. To the degree that particular situation goes, there are rules that can be noticed, yet there are no specific headings. Just post for stage issues. Furthermore, trust your ears. Accepting it sounds perfect, go with it.

Accurate screens are extremely basic in the recording studio. They are essential for getting the sound definitively. An overall level repeat response is needed. No bass or high frequencies should be unreasonable. Nevertheless, for the screens to work unequivocally, the room ought to be careful. That is where the meaning of acoustic treatment turns out to be perhaps the main component. Get a respectable condenser assessment mouthpiece and make assessments of the room. I use the REW Room EQ programming for this. It's astoundingly simple to use and can be set up rather quickly. With barely enough perseverance, I had the choice to get my room inside 3db across the entire repeat response. Likewise, I have had no terrible comments about the sound being gotten in my recording studio.

So these are two or three methods for setting up a recording studio. As of now it is the ideal opportunity to follow the accompanying hit record.

For More Info :- 

rifts studios nyc

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Source URL :- https://sites.google.com/view/tips-on-how-to-set-up-a-record/home

[hekate1308]

Present Blessings, A Drowley Advent Calendar, December 1

Masterpost

Read it on AO3

Fergus Crowley was well aware of the fact that was, indeed, a bastard. Over the course of his life, he had had little reason to regret the fact, or wish that it would ever change.

The world was, after all, a bad enough place that he didn’t feel like taking advantage of it was a terrible thing to do.

Until he got a visitor, that was.

He had had another fight with his son.

And to think his day had started off rather well with him signing another profitable deal.

The fight in itself was not unusual. Gavin was the product of a short-lived affair (like all of his affairs, to tell the truth), and since he had never intended to have children, he had fulfilled his obligations; that, however, had not stopped Gavin from trying to have a relationship with him. Crowley would freely admit that he had not been a good father, but at the very least, Gavin had visited a good college, had an excellent job and just recently moved in with his girlfriend, who he seemed to love; so all in all, he would call his son a very successful man. Sadly, this meant that Gavin had decided that Crowley should look “after himself” which apparently meant working less, settling down and generally changing his outlook on life.

Well, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, and so he chose to simply ignore Gavin’s complaints for now. His company, after all, wasn’t going to run itself.

So, instead of searching his soul for ways in which he and his son could reconcile or whatever sentimental people would have done in his stead, he went through some files, got through his meetings, did what he usually did – persevere.

IT didn’t help that Gavin had to double down – although Crowley would admit that his stubborn streak most likely came from his side of the family, remembering his mother.

Still, he could have done without those passive-aggressive texts, especially while he was busy at work.

He took a deep breath and summoned his PA to get some decent coffee, at least.

It seemed to be the theme of the day that, just as he had managed to relax, something would happen to ensure that he didn’t, for with the coffee came a resignation, citing that she had found a job “with more reasonable hours.” As far as excuses to leave his company went, it was even friendly enough.

So finding another one it was. He was working away, actually managing to not be dwelling on his son, when someone asked, “Really, dude?”

Now, this was rather impossible for several reasons. One, he had made sure that no one could approach him out of the blue by hiring a PA who knew they would lose their job over something like this; two, by nurturing a personality that tended to turn people away from trying to approach him in the first place, and three, because, even if one or two didn’t count, his office was located on the third floor, so whoever this was had to have made their way through practically the entire building just to stand in his office.

So, he set down the file and looked up.

His first thought was that this was utterly unfair.

He had to throw the man out, of course. The principle of the thing and all that entailed.

But really, why did he have to be so handsome?

“Anyway” he said, as if they had been engaged in a conversation, “If we could just get down with this, I’m looking forward to getting my wings.”

“Excuse me?” he demanded. “Who are you, and what do you want? Just so you know, I’m calling security…”

The man actually grinned at him, and to make matters worse, this actually succeeded in making him look more attractive.  “Turns out you’re important enough you get your very own angel to help you figure stuff out!”

He casually shifted his weight on his seat so he was in perfect position to press the panic button. “Is that so.”

“Yep, so let’s start with your mother –“

Now he had gone too far. That was one thing Crowley was not prepared to talk about, so he was –

He couldn’t move. For some reason he couldn’t move.

He stared at his visitor, who shrugged.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to freak you out, but I’m allowed to do whatever I need to make you believe this is real. I know humans these days can be a bit skeptical when it comes to things like this.”

Things like this? The man was clearly insane, but on the other hand, Crowley was still unable to even lift a finger, so there had to be more going on.

“Okay, so I’ll let you talk, alright? So we can figure this out.”

He had absolutely no intention of doping so, but he still did his best to let him know he agreed through his expression.

“Awesome!” he beamed. “I’m an angel. Call me Dean.”

[mtnkat3]

*Note= incomplete. Such a hard day! But needed to post it.

Su.10.2.2022 10.41am est.

Dear Lord,

I am having a terribly difficult morning!

I cannot calm down.

I am praying

But I think that needing to be outside, fresh air, away from this house, constant coughing, not being able to be still, high bp, blood sugar, & heart rate, heck hard to take my meds! Hard to think ..

Are all my symptoms.

My soul is struggling.

DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN HELP ME PLEASE!?!?!?!

I MUST GIVE IT ALL TO YOU LORD!!!

From why I am so anxious & out of control, which is foreign to me.

[Hard to even write this! Struggling to think!]

I'm listening to church svc.

Interesting that pastor is preaching on the Love Chapter [1 Corinthians 13], & Creation, of man & woman. Helpmeet.

[Biblegateway.com]

"

13 If I speak in the tongues[a] of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast,[b] but do not have love, I gain nothing.

4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10 but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. 11 When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. 12 For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

"

Sanctification.

..?

Repentance.

Glorified.

11.41am

Finally got my meds in.

[I've been up since 8.30a, but bed at 2.20am

=not enough sleep, not drinking water enough.

12.03p

And Lord, You have given me some lightbulb moments. As taking out recycling.

[And as svc went off & turned on radio first song.. hard to love, Lee Brice. Then..

Slow Ride, Foghat. Hm.🤓🤔

My lightbulbs..💡

1- it's my body telling me this house is too much for me. Allergens, too much stuff!

[Ugh! Work this t! Work it!]

-a person [wh] that doesn't understand compassion.

[Sigh. Genius IQ isn't gonna help this.]

Yes I am slowly calming. Because I have been praying.

I lost some of my other points. Sigh.

It has been a difficult, harrowing morning.

I'm calmest outside.

Which is so telling!

Especially with all the ragweed.

My coughing too.

I think the main thing is this..

The adversary lead me astray.

And

I know that God wants my attention.

It's why He has let me struggle.

I need to learn this lesson.

~GOD COMES FIRST.~

[I've been writing as God gives me clear moments. It's why is taking me so long today.]

12.50p

&..

I need to be turning to God for comfort, solace, understanding.

Sigh.

I am SO sorry Lord!

Why am I having such difficulty with this?

Because MY daughter, the adversary knows you are scared, lonely, confused,... is using the tests with the Mate.../s ..

Lord?

Yes MY daughter.

There are answers to your questions.

TURN TO ~ME~!!!

AND YOU WILL BE STRENGTHENED, RESTORED, CALMED & FIND THE PATH I MEANT FOR YOU TO BE ON!

I'm afraid because of the unknown & everything happening at once???

YES DAUGHTER!

& because I've felt ... alone? In different ways than I understand & am use to?

YES, MY DAUGHTER! NO HUMAN CAN EVER COMPARE TO MY LOVE FOR YOU!!! I CREATED YOU AS I WANT YOU T!!!

*4.57pm

Couldn't eat at wendy's. Home depot was difficult. Wh. Ugh. Sigh.

God... I love You. Please forgive me.

And place me how & where You want me to be.

So that I am the best daughter to You I can be.

And I pray to earn & become worthy of the soul Mate... /s.. ?

Because I don't know..

That You Created me from the side of. To be with. To be for.

To be the Helpmeet of.

I need Your Help Lord.

I cannot live another day like this.

[My first counseling appt tomorrow @11am.]

I need to work on my sleep, eating better [at all!], drinking enough water/g0, journaling properly.

And going to You Lord!

Your scared, humbled, brokenness .. listening closely & carefully stepping.

Trying to figure this all out... daughter,

~Tijgeress kat Phoenix.

5.05pm

👩🤓☔😖😥⚓🙏🙇‍♀️🌂🔗⛓🧰⌚

⚡🌠🗝🔱⚜💝♾🌎🧭🕯

Diary & gifs. 5.17pm

[burnedbyshoto]

indulge me

indulge me: an arrangement

— Being a secret little girl in the modern world is rough, but it becomes much more chaotic when a classmate of yours offers to be your new daddy dom.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, nsfw, ddlg dynamic, college!au, modern!au, daddy!shouto, little girl!reader, I am not well versed in this dynamic please do not use this as an educational source, dom!shouto, sub!reader, biting, marking, mating press, nipple play (both), spanking, oral, gagging, choking, praise, degradation, little space

word count: 13,547

a/n: this is a commission for @bakusbiatch​ thank you for your endless amount fo patience as it took me 100x longer than ever to write this

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If there was something you knew now that you completely did not understand at the age of eighteen was the entire dynamics of sex. To be fair, after an adolescence of watching porn, reading erotica, and even gossiping between friends, it was, without doubt, that you were entirely clueless about real, healthy dynamics.

First off, the first time you had sex was super uncomfortable. 

There was no break or even space for pleasure to build in because you had been so tense, so awkward that you remained rigid and still the entire three minutes the guy fucked into you. You remember his sweat-soaked body collapsing on top of you, his eyes seeing galaxies in the stuffy, now smelly room as he breathed out a ‘Woah.’

You had smiled at him stiffly, letting his softening dick flop out of your dry vagina and curled in on yourself as he snuggled into you, praising the world and everything around it for this moment. It was without saying that you left his cum stained sheets and ran back home.

Sex sucked.

But that was when you were seventeen and made the terrible decision on fucking your friend with whom you had scary sexual tension. You avoided sex to your best ability after that, not so much as caring to allow anyone to touch you because that was disappointing. Why would you go through that when your fingers sufficed much better? Why go through that awkward tension when you didn’t have any moments of awkwardness when reading smut?!

Audios were better.

Words were best.

But, as one does, you fell in love against your will to a boy just a few months older than you. His smile was soft, and his words were kind, but oh, did his touch drive you hot and mad. You weren’t exactly sure how long you had lasted, how much perseverance you had kept when the two of you would fall onto his (thank fucking god) clean sheets, his strong hands and fingers keeping your hips close to his as you kissed him as if you couldn’t live without his touch.

“Are you… are you ready?” he had asked, his shirt thrown into the abyss of his room and the button of your jeans undone, revealing the simple set of panties you had on. “I don’t want to—”

“I’m ready,” you interrupt him, your body practically burning from the inside out with the desperate need and lust for him to fuck you. “I’m ready.”

He stills, his tongue peeking past his lips before a slow, chilling grin spreads against his mouth.

“Okay,” he nods, “can I ask you to do something, though?”

You, in your desperation to get his dick out of his sweats and buried deep into your throbbing cunt, nod.

“I have a daddy kink… I really, really like the daddy little girl dynamics,” he breathes, palms pressing to your knees and dragging down your inner thighs in a teasing, near authoritative way. “Can we… are you interested in trying it?”

Now, although you had largely avoided sex, toys and fingers weren’t nearly enough to replace the overwhelming need to be touched, fucked, and worshipped by another human being. You had fucked plenty of people who had always claimed to have kinks and fetishes. Most of the men you had in bed who said they had a daddy kink only liked being addressed as daddy; that was it. There was no true dynamic, just a play on the power the title brought them.

So, in the naive, childish way you were, you agreed.

You listened to his every command in bed, thrilled and keened under his praise for his princess, for his little girl, and you ate it up, thanking and praising your daddy. The sex ended with you cumming so hard you went blind for a moment, so dizzy from your high. As the both of you drifted off to sleep, you had no clue when you woke up in the morning he would present you with a little girl starter package made by him for you specifically. It was then that you realized that dynamics were an actual thing, and as he presented you a checklist of kinks, toys, and rules he laid out, you realized that nothing you had ever experienced — real or fictional — could have prepared you for this.

The two of you went through the list and rules together, your eyes widening and face blazing with embarrassment as he described his expectations and needs with this dynamic. You nodded, so completely lost in this entire thing that you agreed with most everything he offered and wanted.

The one rule you did have didn’t necessarily surprise him.

The dynamic was to remain a secret, you asserted, unable to budge on this thought. You could be his little girl, but it was to stay in private, never in public. And he tilted his head in thought but ultimately agreed with a smile. He thought you’d one day stop being in the closet over this kink, and you thought the opposite.

And time moves forward; it’s rigid and unforgiving. Two years into a relationship, a year and a half into the dynamic, you and your daddy break up, and you, against all odds, are left scrambling for a daddy you never realized you needed.

What was a girl to do?

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Your head is angled downward, and the hood that sits on your head is not concealing your face as well as you would have liked. It was without saying that you were a woman of pride. You took great care of what you did, how people viewed you, and how you presented yourself to the world. Most days, you always exited your small apartment as an excellent student who was always wearing properly done makeup and stylish outfits. 

Your style screamed confident woman (not little girl, you absolutely refused to wear anything cutesy in public), and you walked with your chin raised and eyes on the horizon.

To see that you were in sweats, an oversized hoodie, no makeup on, and perusing the store's area made for young girls and toddlers, was a shock. You had made sure to come nearly thirty minutes before closing; no one would be here to accidentally see you, no one could see you in your embarrassing shame-picking for your dynamic. All because your newest daddy couldn’t afford to buy you new things since your old ones had your ex’s name or brand all over it.

This was for the best; you reminded yourself as you haphazardly threw the items within the basket, face flaming as you ignored the temptation to simply stand in the aisle and flip through the sticker book and coloring book you recently tossed into the cart. You were fine; you already had your plan of action on what to say when purchasing these items.

‘My sister is pregnant again, and she already has a kid,’ you mentally rehearsed, imagining an excited smile on your face because you are excited for this imaginary pregnant sister of yours. ‘It’s a present for the baby and the brat.’

Solid.

Perfect.

Beautiful.

Making sure to quickly take note of what was inside the basket, you spun on your heel and marched your way through the empty store to the deserted register.

You kept your head down as you placed the basket on the conveyor belt, easy peasy, you would be fine!

“Found everything you were looking for?” a voice asks, piercing through your mental rehearsal just in case you got questions. 

You blink, head raising up, exposing your face to the person behind the register.

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal.

Checking things out at the register wasn’t supposed to be all that embarrassing. I mean, what could top having to buy pads and tampons from a creepy, greasy old man during your very first period ever?! But you had to admit seeing a familiar face behind the register as he began to scan the items in your cart kinda made it a big deal.

Todoroki Shouto read his name tag, and ‘TODOROKI SHOUTO?!’ screamed your heart. 

Oh, how to describe Todoroki Shouto, well you didn’t even know where to begin.

Shouto was one thousand percent a supermodel that has yet to be recruited. He could probably be a top star athlete, good enough to go overseas if he wanted. He was a genius. Someone who was somehow friends with everyone he came across even though he was a man of few words. 

He stood tall behind the register, the tight black high collared shirt sitting beneath a light blue opened dress shirt. His distinctive red and white slightly wavy hair — all-natural, you believe — pushed back in a way that you would bet to hell and back that he had run his fingers through it. For the past three years in university, you had more than a few classes with this stunning man. You two shared the same major, and he often sat at the back of the classroom, but you were nearly hyperaware of everything he did because his voice was liquid honey and sex and everything that was —

“You can let go of the basket,” Shouto cut through your thoughts, and you gasped loudly, suddenly realizing that you had zoned out thinking about him.

Your hand lets go of the basket, and you slap your sweater-covered hands over your mouth; horror strikes through you like a blazing sword. You weren’t wearing makeup, you were in trash clothes, and you were in front of a man you had lusting feelings over!

NO!

“Sorry!” you squeak, your heart and bile rising up your throat at alarming rates as Shouto merely smiles at you in understanding. “This is all stuff for my sister!”

Shouto blinks, his head tilting to the side as he scans a sippy cup.

“Your sister’s quite young,” he remarks easily, trying not to make you feel stupider—probably.

Tell the lie, y/n, you chide yourself as you shift your weight.

“Ah, well, not actually my sister,” you explain, fingers scratching against your scalp. “My sister is pregnant r-right now, and she already has a little one, so I thought that this would be a good… present?”

Nailed it.

Shouto’s eyebrows quirk, a small smile spreading across his face as he scans the plush doll. 

“That’s very kind of you; you must have a good relationship with your sister.”

“O-Oh yeah, we’re very close.”

“And would you say that this is something appropriate to give to a pregnant family member and their child?”

You froze and looked down at the items you had hastily thrown into the basket.

It was a pacifier, sippy cup, baby blanket, choker, coloring books, stuffed animal, candy, and stickers.

You choked, feeling heat exploding in your cheeks all over again; absolutely not. This was not something to give to a pregnant woman.

“My sister is pregnant,” Shouto explains, definitely sensing your poorly concealed stress, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m the youngest of my siblings, so I don’t really know what to buy her.”

“Absolutely the fuck not.”

Shouto blinked, and before you could start screaming apologies over your rudeness, he began laughing loudly. Your face continued to burn in your utter humiliation and shame, but Shouto only found amusement in this all as he began to place your items away in a bag. 

“What are your recommendations then?” Shouto finally asked, his lips pulled back into an easy, teasing grin. “And that’ll be forty-eight seventy-three.”

You shoved your card into the chip scanner immediately, your gaze everywhere but on him.

“I think you should get whatever your sister wants or still needs,” you quickly say, eyes now focusing on the Approved message on the machine. “Every person is different.”

“I suppose,” Shouto agrees, his arms crossing against his chest, and you have to resist the temptation to ogle at the way his muscles become sinfully pronounced. “Well, I won’t hold you up. See you in lecture tomorrow, y/l/n.”

“Bye!” you squawk, grabbing your bag and racing out.

His eyes burn into your back the entire rush out of the store, but you find that you can’t seem to worry about that. You’re much more elated and somehow horrified at the realization that he knew exactly who you were.

Step zero of who knows how many to get Todoroki Shouto to fall in love with you, complete!

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“So, about the upcoming paper assignment, I’m sure you’re all eager to get started on,” your professor’s voice boomed throughout the lecture hall, his arms folding across his chest as he leans against the podium with an easy grin. “I decided that I would be nice and allow for some partnering up!”

Your eyes widened as excited murmurs exploded through the classroom. 

Partners for a ten-page paper? You were going to thank god almighty. 

But, at the same time, you frowned. This was a class where you didn’t exactly know anyone. It was a course outside of your own major, and with your usual friends not in this class, you knew that you were going to have to go out of your way to find a partner. You withered a bit in your chair, not entirely on board with that train of thought.

“There are an uneven amount of you guys in the class, though,” your professor continued, still sporting that easy grin on his face. “And I decided that instead of having too many groups of three, and because I was so nice to allow partner work, I decided to make the partners. Look at the pinned paper at the door for your partner or partners for the group of three! No, I will not allow trades, and no, I will not allow complaining! Be grateful!”

Hopeful and exasperated murmurs sounded through the room as the professor dismissed the class and frantic movement followed after. Even as old as they were, everyone was desperate and eager to see who a random generator assigned them to. Packing up swiftly, you threw your bag over your shoulder and began walking towards the list. 

You wonder who you were gonna get.

“Y/l/n,” a voice spoke softly, lowly by your ear.

You whipped around — one part startled, a second part curious — and came to see Todoroki Shouto standing slightly behind you. His gaze was at the wall for a moment, dropping only when you were looking up at him. He smiles slowly, and you feel your chest tighten.

Oh boy.

“Todoroki,” you smile, attempting to relax completely in front of him. “Any hopes as to who’s your partner?”

“Well, as long as it isn’t Sero, I think it’ll be okay,” Shouto’s eyes crinkle with his deepened smile. “Last time I did a paper with him, we did it completely high—” you choke, eyes widening at the thought of trying to be eloquent enough to write a paper while high. “—It was terrible.”

“Oh, I bet,” you laugh, arms crossing across your chest as the two of you begin inching forward within the crowd, others leaving with proud laughs, curious frowns, or aggravated groans. “But at least it sounds like it was turned in?”

“It was,” Shouto nods, his teeth flashing as he finally tears his gaze from you. “Oh, would you look at that?”

You hum, eyes squinting as you try to read the list through the many heads before you.

Y/l/n, Todoroki S.

“Would you look at that.”

“Seems like we’re partners,” you laugh, relief and horror flooding your body.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

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So, it was decided that with the two weeks given to write the paper and taking Shouto’s job into account, this paper was to be written as soon as possible. The suggestion of working on it together in the same room and not just through google doc was brought up and agreed upon. So with consensus on that, the matter of where it was going to happen was brought up.

“We can do it at my place,” Shouto offered with a shrug, “my house is pretty big.”

“I don’t have a car,” you interject, a frown on your face — you wanted to see his house. “My apartment is five minutes from campus. Is that alright?”

A smile.

“That’s perfect.”

And so, on a Friday afternoon, you found yourself already apologizing profusely as you walked up the staircase that smelled just a tiny bit of cheese. You warned him about the mess of your apartment. About how not to judge you on any and all messes you might have made on your way out! That you would have cleaned up had you known this was happening!

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Shouto spoke, attempting to ease your anxiety as you push your key in the doorknob and turn it. “I really don’t mind a messy place.”

“Ha, well, this is it,” you say, your face feeling disgustingly warm as you breach the entrance to your small one bedroom one bathroom place. “Leave your shoes right there, and we can head in!”

Toeing off your own shoes, you scrambled into the apartment, eyes wide as you attempted to make sure that nothing was crazily messy or out of place. There wasn’t any dirty laundry or undergarments anywhere? No, good!

Shouto locks the door behind himself, a chuckle at the back of his throat vibrating in his chest as he watches you skirt about. He looks down at the shoes you were wearing, white sneakers, and smirks at how small they look compared to his. He never really thought he was that tall or big, to be honest. It was a decent size for someone from his family, but it amused him greatly to see his things pushed against yours.

He looked back up, eyes landing on your flustered face as you stood by a table in the kitchen area.

“Ready?” he asked, hands shoving into his pockets.

“I believe so!”

And for some reason, probably the very same reason that had him entranced by you, Shouto laughs and steps foot into your apartment.

The paper itself isn’t that hard.

It’s an argumentative piece mostly on a Green Act proposal that was currently being debated within the government body. A paper that was fifty percent argument was something you were elated to have, but the other fifty percent was using sources and articles to further back your point. It was now two hours into the paper writing, takeout filling the empty spaces between the table as Shouto’s laughter and your ranting filled the open air. It was nice; he was nice to hang out with.

“I’m just saying we are nearing a universal climate disaster, and I do not want to be wondering when I will die because some fat old men with huge wallets want to continue getting richer!” you yelled, your chest heaving with your lack of proper air. “It’s dumb!”

“I bet if you grabbed ahold of their favorite toupees, they’d fold and agree,” Shouto teases, his grin covered by the mug he’s currently drinking tea from. “I’ll bail you out of prison.”

“I wouldn’t go to prison for that,” you argue, arms folding across your chest as you shake your head in solemn understanding. “They’d murder me and make it look like an accident.”

“Dark.”

“You know it.”

“I’ll avenge you.”

“You better, or else I’ll blame you for my murder.”

Shouto’s jaw dropped, ready to retaliate with something else, but he was interrupted by a loud call from your phone. You frowned, head tilting as you pulled your phone out from your jean pocket and stared at the screen.

Incoming call from: dd.

“I have to take this,” you say apologetically, standing up as you answered the call. You waited until you were in your bedroom before placing the phone to your head, your heart hammering with the unknown. “Hello?”

.

Shouto heard the click of your bedroom door, and he sighed, leaning back into his chair. His eyes looked up at the ceiling, momentarily bored now that he wasn’t with you. He wondered who ‘dd’ was and if you were alright. He hoped it wasn’t anything serious.

Grabbing his water cup, Shouto frowned, seeing that it was empty. He looked over at the sink where you had initially filled up the water cups. You wouldn’t mind if he filled it up on his own, right? Shouto pushed back his chair and stood, the cup resting in his fingers as he walked over towards the sink with a light hum.

He filled the cup slowly, not wanting to make too much noise. But as he stared at the drying dishes on your dish holder, he frowned at the sight of the pink sippy cup you had bought from the store last week. It was cleaned, obviously used, and he tilted his head.

Weird.

The cupboard was open, and Shouto couldn’t help but look into the dark wood and startled once again when he took in the neatly folded bib and the nearly innocuous pacifier sitting on top of it. Untouched, undisturbed, but used — definitely used.

Frowning, he took a slow, long drink of his water as he stared out towards the small living room you had. There, sitting on the wood coffee table, was the coloring book you had also purchased. That wasn’t adding up… if they were for your sister’s kids, why were they here? It didn’t exactly seem like the place to be holding them. 

Shouto thought, trying to figure out just why you had all these things for… well, children.

Was testing products on your own a thing people did?

Well, yes, he supposed so, but these were already licensed products. The coloring book, well, he guesses that was a pretty normal thing! Drawing and coloring were everyday stress relieves — his mother often used that to help herself. But a pacifier, a bip, and a sippy cup? The only thing he could rationalize with that was—

“You’re being fucking ridiculous, daddy!” your voice harshly whispered (maybe ridiculed and mocked) from your room, just loud enough that Shouto heard, and his eyes widened.

Oh.

Ohh fuck.

.

.

.

“You know what, this isn’t working,” you scoff, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you roll your eyes to the heavens above. “This was a good trial run, but I’m going to have to end this. This is not what I was looking for.”

“Come on, brat, you know you don’t mean that—”

You hung up, your fingers curled in a fist as you growled lowly at the screen. You wasted no time in blocking the number. What a fucking terrible daddy he was. Didn’t buy you anything, didn’t support you, or help you. There was no dynamic in this relationship. It was just a power-hungry dom with a streak for being called daddy.

A fucking poser at best.

Rolling your eyes, you tossed your phone onto your bed and walked out of your room back to the main area of your place. You looked at Shouto, who was sitting in his chair, his face bored, maybe a bit tired, and his face was concentrated on his phone — he was idly scrolling through it.

“Sorry that took so long,” you apologize, slinking back onto your chair, hands rubbing your face. “I tried to be fast about that.”

Shouto peered past the top of his phone, a comforting smile on his face, “Don’t worry about it; it wasn’t like we were intensely working on the paper anyways.”

You smile, slightly embarrassed. 

“That’s true, um—”

“I think it’s time—”

The both of you spoke over each other clumsily, awkwardly — both of you obviously thinking of something that wasn’t quite in front of you. Your smile feels less forced now, “we’re done for the day?”

Shouto shifts in his chair, his head dropping slightly in agreement, “I think that would be best. We did a lot today, though.”

“We did!” you agree with a laugh, standing up and grabbing the items off the table, assisting Shouto with getting ready to leave. “We’ll meet back up in two days?”

Shouto nods, “that sounds like a plan.”

You help him pack up, insisting that you could clean up the kitchen without his help. It takes a few minutes, but finally, you have him walking out of your place, a light wave on your hand before he exits onto the staircase. You close the door with a sigh.

Jesus Christ.

.

.

Shouto stands in the stairway, his eyes concentrated on his phone where he has a single question typed into his browser.

ddlg dynamics ↳ Let’s talk DDLG, also known as Daddy Dom Little Girl. It’s a submissive/dominant relationship where the dom is known as a “Daddy,” and the submissive is known as a “Little Girl.”

...Interesting.

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Now, you were a pretty paranoid person; you could admit that. 

You didn’t like being paranoid, but you were. Most days, you always triple-checked you weren’t being followed, quadruple-checked you had your school assignments turned in and your things in your bag. With your sex life and part of your social life being introduced to the ddlg dynamic, your paranoia grew even more.

Most people weren’t understanding — they weren’t. They assumed this dynamic was simply calling your dom daddy in bed and getting called princess in return! They always believed that, allowed for that. It was socially acceptable to call your dom daddy in bed, but god fucking forbid any other part of the dynamic come into play.

You remember reading comments in articles about grown women sitting in frilly skirts and diapers as part of her dynamic and watching grown adults tear her apart — skin and bones. That was the reaction you feared, you hated.

There was a reason why you enjoyed sitting in your frilly skirts, in your white and baby pink clothes. You loved having your dom come home, tired and stressed, and ask you, his little girl, to sit on his lap while he distressed. You enjoyed the sippy cups that helped to melt your anxiety, and you enjoyed doing chores under your doms watchful eye.

The praises, the rewards were always so uplifting, and the sex was always on an intensity that made you tremble with explosive satisfaction. If your dom wanted you in diapers, you would negotiate appropriately, and you sure as hell didn’t need a fucking stranger’s opinion on whether or not that was ‘normal.’

But no amount of confidence you had in your dynamic had ever eased the bottomless paranoia and anxiety. 

Hence why after Shouto had left your apartment and you realized in horror that you had left out some damning evidence to your dynamic. The coloring book on your coffee table and the sippy cup that was obviously used were on full display. You wondered for a few hours, nearly spirling with anxiety if he had noticed — if that was why he was partially stiff as he left for the day. You had only managed to calm down when he had sent you a text later that night that he had enjoyed being over and was looking forward to working together the next day.

The praise was needed, seeping warm into your bones as you rolled over in your bed and knocked out.

You thought that you were in the clear. That that was as far as things were going to go, but your paranoia came back the next day in full force as you sat in a group with Shouto.

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“Do you want a sticker?”

That was the beginning of it all.

You had accepted the sticker without a second thought. Your typical barriers down because the lack of a dom in your life was throwing you for a bit. God, you were pathetic. You had smiled brightly, eagerly nodding as you thrust your hands out towards Shouto, waiting to receive a sticker. 

“Good job,” he had said with an endearing smile, “you deserve it.”

It was only then that the weight of what happened settled on your bones, and you froze.

Fuck.

Smiling stiffly, you pressed the sparkly pink star to your shirt and returned back to your assignment, unable to speak up again for some time.

You had hoped that it was going to end there, but it seemed that nothing about your life was going in your favor right now. 

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“Do you have a bedtime?” Shouto idly asked one late night when he was over, and you could not stop yawning to save your life. “I think everyone should go to bed at 10 p.m. on a school night, don’t you agree?”

You had choked on your saliva before disagreeing vehemently. 

“I don’t sleep until… like, um, three in the morning?” you make up, teeth tearing into your lip as you avoided eye contact.

“Such a bad girl,” Shouto murmured, much too low for you to pick up.

“What?!”

“That’s bad for your health,” he recovered with a smile.

“Oh… yeah, I suppose so.”

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“Y/l/n is a sub; she’s a brat about that,” Shouto said to the group you both were assigned to in yet another class the two of you shared.

You had been idly drinking from your coffee cup and was utterly zoned out when he said that. So when you had picked up his words, you nearly choked at the sentence, your eyes watering and your throat burning with your drink and humiliation as the entire table turned to look at you.

“Oh shit, are you okay?!” Mina asked, eyes wide.

“I’m a what?!” you splutter instead, eyes focused on Shouto and your cheeks beginning to burn with unsaid fear.

“You’re a substitute babysitter for your sister,” Shouto remarked, his head tilted as he feigned innocence. “You were telling me about that the other day, remember? Sero is trying to get into the babysitting gig too.”

You wanted to believe him, you wanted so desperately to believe that Shouto was just somehow landing a missile into every paranoid corner of your life without meaning to, but this was getting out of control. This was too on the head, too obvious to not say that he somehow saw your little things and pieced together the dynamic you’ve come to love and thrive in. But you couldn’t fess up; you wouldn’t give yourself to the wolves of embarrassment and shame over something you knew wasn’t wrong.

“Oh,” you say stiffly, smiling over at Sero, “I’m on an app that is used a lot by small families; I can text you the name?”

“I’d appreciate that!” Sero laughs, blissfully unaware of the rising tension between you and Shouto. “I didn’t think that high school girls had some type of business turf thing; they’re scary and aggressive!”

“It’s a serious job for high schoolers,” Mina waved him off, “this is the only thing most of them can do!”

The conversation between Sero and Mina began to drift off as you were staring at Shouto, unable to break the eye contact the both of you found yourselves connected by. You didn’t want to pull away, too bitter and anxious to. You were currently two weeks without a daddy dom in your life, and you knew that you should be able to have a better grasp on your life than this — you knew you couldn’t lean on this dynamic at every point in your life. But you were sad to admit that you were struggling to keep your head afloat. You felt like you were almost drowning, struggling to keep your composure as you needed a play or a simple scene.

But the confidence in Shouto’s eyes that were hidden behind the sheer curiosity and wonder was making your skin itch, making you want to grab him by the collar and bring him in close and demand to know exactly what he was thinking. 

He would not embarrass you.

He would not.

“Can I talk to you, Todoroki?” you asked, practically demanded of Shouto as the group of you began to stand at the table, readying to leave. 

If you noticed Mina’s and Sero’s eyebrows shoot up towards the ceiling, you didn’t say anything as Shouto paused in putting things into his backpack. His head tilted, but he nodded his head, “yeah, about what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile stiffly, tossing your own backpack over your shoulder as you turn on your heel and immediately begin walking. Uncaring if he was following you or not. “Bye, Mina, Sero.”

There’s silence behind you before the heady sound of a chair scraping against the floor is heard and the long, quick strides of Shouto following after you. You exit the cafe you had been in, eyes squinting when the harsh rays of sun fall on your face, but you don’t hesitate or pause even once.

There’s no one outside right now; it’s just you and Shouto. 

You feel him at your shoulder, and you keep your gaze straight ahead, unwilling to look at him just yet. 

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” you finally whisper, your voice low and angry. You nearly spat them out at him, utterly humiliated and horrified that you were probably outing yourself should he just be that dense and annoyingly able to pick at your anxiety. “Stop it.”

“I don’t—” Shouto began, eyes wide and screaming of innocence that could make you cry.

“I know you saw my things, and I know you pieced it together,” you cut him off, your lips pursed tight. You suddenly stop in your tracks, tears burning at the back of your eyes as you turn to face Shouto. “So if you have a problem with that, I suggest that you kindly fuck off!”

Shouto stands next to you, hair hastily swept backward, hand on the strap of his bag, and his face telling you that you had miscalculated something. You prayed it wasn’t about how he knew about you being a little.

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Shouto admits, his hand raising to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t think you’re weird or strange or bad for being into the ddlg dynamic. I’m actually… I take part in it too. I was trying to subtly tell you that I was into it as well, and well, I heard that you and your last dom broke it off… I wanted to tell you that I was interested in becoming your new dom.”

You blink.

“Eh?!”

“I’m interested in forming an agreement with you?” Shouto tilts his head; there’s a sense of seriousness to his face, his eyes innocent. “I need a little, and if you’re looking for a dom…”

He lets the silence fill the rest of his sentence, and your mouth gapes open as blood rushes to your face at the straightforward request.

“I… I barely know you!” you splutter, your heart in your ears as you can barely comprehend what was going on. 

Two weeks ago, Todoroki Shouto was practically a stranger. You knew him about as well as a person knew the barista at their favorite coffee shop. Friendly, but not close. Definitely not close enough for you to say that you would allow for him to see you in your little space, for him to give you a list of rewards and punishments — for possible sex?!

“Most caregiver contracts like this are done between people who know even less,” Shouto shrugs, his arms folded across his chest. “You don’t have to say yes now or even agree, but I like you a lot. I want to pursue a relationship with you, and I assumed that this would be a good starting ground especially if you need it.”

Your tongue sweeps across your lips, unable to come up with a single rationale thing to say. 

“I don’t need an answer right now; indulge me, though,” Shouto smiles softly, his gaze dropping for a moment. “Take as much time as you need. We can do a single scene to test it out, and if it doesn’t work out, no hard feelings. Let me know when you’re interested in it, though.”

You can’t say anything; you can only numbly nod as Shouto smiles at you once again.

“Let me know.”

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Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [received Today 23:44]

Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [seen 7 Days Ago 23:44]

You: ↳ Send your points, we can see if we’re compatible. [seen now]

Todoroki S.: ↳ I enjoyed the scene we did today; I hope you did too. I’m interested in making this a real thing if you are too. [received Today 20:44]

You: ↳ I did, too, actually, lol. Um, thank you, first of all! We can work on the contract now. [received Today 20:48]

Todoroki S.: ↳ Okay. I’ve already made the first draft of one; if you’d like to look it over, let me know what you think, and we can edit some things around. [seen now]

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It has been two months since the contract was signed.

Two months.

Two months of Shouto practically living in your apartment with you, a once stranger seeing you at your most vulnerable. He was a steady hand on your back as you slipped into your desired little space, a constant warmth at your side as you went about your day at home. 

It had been weird at first; your anxiety still wouldn’t let up, nearly convincing you many times that this was all but a prank. That Shouto would pull away from you when you least expected it and would expose you to the world. There had been many times where he would hold you on his lap, his arms warm around your back, your favorite stuffed animal sitting on your lap as he promised you that you were wrong.

“Daddy is here to protect you, sunshine,” Shouto murmured in your ear, his warm lips pressing to the small behind your ear. “Daddy would never do that to my baby girl. That wouldn’t make me happy.”

“I-It wouldn’t?” you sniffled, your nose face nuzzling further into his neck as your sobs had finally stopped. 

“No, not at all, sunshine,” Shouto smiled against the crown of your head. You felt his lips press a soft kiss there, his warm hands stroking up and down your back. “Do you remember what makes Daddy happy?”

You blink, your wet eyelashes heavy and sticking together as you peer at his jaw as if it could possibly tell you.

“I can’t… I can’t remember, sorry, Daddy,” you sniffle again, suddenly terrified that he would be upset with you. You were such a terrible baby girl.

“What makes Daddy happy is seeing his baby girl smiling, happy, protected, and safe,” Shouto easily relays, pulling you away from his shoulder, his calloused fingers rubbing the tear streaks that still stain down your face. “I promise that I will never do anything to cause you harm, sunshine. I only want you to be happy; you being happy makes me happy like nothing before.”

There’s no stopping the way your bottom lip trembles with the pleasant weight of his words, the way it warms you from your belly and curls to your toes.

“Pinky promise?” you whimper, somehow out of breath.

Shouto looks at your curved pinky that is extended out for him to hold, to seal the other half of a promise he has no intentions of ever breaking.

Smiling softly, Shouto wraps his pinky with yours and twists it gently, locking the promise.

“Pinky promise,” he affirms, placing a kiss to your knuckles.

.

.

He was so good to you.

So sweet, gentle, patient, and kind.

He tended to spend the night Mondays through Fridays, giving you the weekend to be on your own. He only ever slept in your bed with your given consent (which was every single time), and there was just something about wearing the silver chained choker on your neck that he bought for you. Dainty and cute, nothing too crazy to draw overwhelming attention.

It had a tiny cherry blossom that was engraved with Shouto on the back.

It was a constant and calming reminder of what you had during the day.

The arrangement was going better than you had assumed it was going to be.

Shouto made for an excellent daddy, but there was one grievance you had. With two months of extreme kinship, so many nights of being curled into his side, getting near-daily cuddles for following his orders perfectly, and a few spanks because you were careless even after he warned you — you had assumed that the sexual part of the dynamic would come out. 

You had okayed for him to be able to fuck you, regardless of whether or not you were in little space! You reached your little space more often than not around him because he was so well, but now you were bordering desperation. You wanted your daddy to please you more, to give you the reward you wanted most: his cock.

“I’m home, bunny,” Shouto called out, his voice hinting exhaustion but mostly satisfaction at being home again.

Per your rules and regulations, greeting Shouto with a cheerful ‘welcome home, daddy!’ when he arrived home was a must. It was a clear indicator that not only were you home but that you wished to indulge in the dynamic for the rest of the day.

But you sat at the coffee table wearing an unapproved, not chosen outfit for home.

You were wearing an off-the-shoulder white cotton shirt that was big and soft, pink lace shorts that barely covered your ass but was hemmed with lace and pretty frill. You had thigh highs on as well that were the same pink as your shorts. There was a pacifier in your mouth, your gaze focused on the Disney coloring book in front of you as you colored in Sleeping Beauty. 

You turned your head, eyes looking at your daddy with a vague look of disinterest before turning back to your coloring.

“I said ‘I’m home,’ bunny,” Shouto restated, giving you the benefit of the doubt of whether or not you heard him. Typically you were excited to have him home, going to his side immediately and asking a million questions as to what he had been doing and why he was home so late. 

“Hmph,” was your response as you placed a sticker onto the coloring page.

Shouto’s eyebrows furrowed; he toed off his shoes and began walking towards you, assessing what was happening. 

“Is my bunny mad that I was a bit later than I had promised?” he asked, sitting on the couch behind you, his fingers brushing across your clothes as if he was trying to remember if he had selected this outfit. But the sudden touch that you were craving in a way like no other made your head spin just so, and you resisted the motion of caving.

You wanted to be a brat! Your daddy should be taking care of all your needs! He promised he would be taking care of you better than you took care of yourself! He should know when you wanted his cock!

“Hmph!” you hrmph again, and you lean out of his touch even though you craved it. 

Although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the slow, calculating blink Shouto took at this action. There’s a moment of silence before the couch sounds under his shifting weight. You freeze at the feeling of his warm palm on your spine, a whisper of danger. It feels partially like a threat, a reminder of impending consequences.

“What did daddy say about bunny using her words?” Shouto asks, his voice stern, low, commanding. 

It should scare you, but the threat in his voice makes your heart stammer and your cunt wet. So, instead of doing what’s right, you stand up, ignoring him yet again as you stick your nose up to the ceiling and try to walk away. 

Well, you try to, that is.

Before you can go too far, Shouto’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist, keeping you in place.

 “You know I don’t like it when you don’t speak, right?” Shouto asks, his eyes digging into your cheek as you refuse to look at him. Yet another rule he has in place. You had to look at him when he spoke to you or when you spoke to him. It was to help make sure that you behaved properly in public — to make you the best baby girl ever. “Use your words and look at me, princess.”

The word princess rolled off his tongue, and you bit down on your tongue to keep the breathy moan from expelling from your lips. He typically only used princess when you were on the verge of genuinely displeasing him, when he was warning you one last time before a punishment was given. Your daddy was two months without jacking off, exhausted from work, and now dealing with you, his bratty baby girl. There was no way this wasn’t going to end with him forcing you to suck him off or to use you as an onahole (something you had said was okay unless you used your safeword, of course).

You shook in his hold, teeth biting your lip as you stared at the wall, refusing to heed his command.

“I’ll give you to the count of three to look at me and address me,” Shouto says, his thumb stroking the innard of your wrist. “One.”

There was no way you would cave.

“Two.”

The silence between the two of you was heavy.

“One.”

Excitement shot through you at the thought of him finally fucking you into your mattress.

“No dessert tonight,” is what Shouto said instead, and you froze.

You whipped your head towards Shouto, fury, and humiliation painting your face as your jaw drops, the pacifier falling onto the floor.

“No!”

“No?” Shouto repeats, his eyes narrowed, unhappy with the challenge. “Do you want me to take away your video games too?”

“No!” you shriek, hands clawing at your face because this was not going the way it was going. “I want my dessert and my video games!”

“Too bad, princess,” Shouto states sternly, unaffected by your growing tantrum. “You lost them both for tonight.”

“No! Give them back! I haven’t done anything wrong, daddy!” you scream, throwing your arms in your hysterics as Shouto stands up to his full height, looming over you without a single issue. Tears prick at the back of your eyes because you’ve messed up somehow; your daddy doesn’t want you — doesn’t love you the way you love him.

“You’ve been misbehaving this entire time I’ve come back home,” Shouto retorts, his other hand grabbing your wrist and managing to place them both close to his chest, limiting your thrashing actions. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the new outfit.”

“I don’t want those punishments, daddy! I don’t want t-them,” you wheeze, your eyes locked on your hands that are bound so tightly in his hands, and you whimper loudly. “You’re hurting me, daddy!”

“And you’re trying to hurt me,” Shouto calmly points out. “I can’t have you doing that, so I’ll hold onto you until you calm down enough. I’m doing this because I care for my little brat.”

“You don’t care! You don’t c-care!” you sob finally, unable to keep the hot tears from your eyes. “Daddy doesn’t care about me!”

The effect is evident and instant.

Shouto’s grip on your wrist lessens altogether, and your pounding fists finally connect with his chest as you collapse against him.

“Daddy doesn’t c-care…”

“That’s not true,” Shouto breathes easily, his fingers brushing against your sides before his arms wrap around you. “I care so much for you, baby. What’s wrong? Tell me what I can do to make things better.”

A loud sniffle emits from you, and you fist your hands in his shirt, your head shaking. 

“It’s been two months, and daddy won’t let me have his cummies,” you whisper, terrified that he would reject you. “Am I not good enough? Attractive enough that daddy wants to reward me with his dick?”

There’s a shift in the air.

“My little doll wants her daddy’s cock, is that what?” Shouto murmured against the top of your head. “My precious, innocent baby girl wants something filthy like that.”

“Mmn,” was all you could manage, your face burning at the implications, the suggestion in his voice. 

“And instead of using her words, as we practice, she decided to act like a little brat to get her way,” Shouto’s voice is low, raspy, and deep. Its tenor is just right that it makes the room instantly hotter, your body brimming with excited energy. “I think… my beautiful doll has broken too many rules for me to just give her a good reward. She deserves to be my little doll as punishment for now. I thought she was grown enough to ask for things she wanted.”

You gasp as Shouto’s warm, calloused hands drop down to the minimally exposed flesh between your booty shorts and your thigh highs. It sends an entire wave of goosebumps down your skin, and you shudder as they rise upwards, slipping under your shirt and resting on the soft skin of your stomach. 

“Your punishment will be what daddy wants it to be, doll,” Shouto states, his fingernails brushing over your clothed nipples, and you mewl at the touch. “You’ve given up your right to speak right now, and because daddy can’t trust you to not be a brat, you will suck daddy’s dick until I see it fit. You will stand on your knees like the beautiful doll daddy knows you can be. Silent, obedient, and so beautiful.”

The words are a goldmine you’ve wanted to hear this entire time, but you’re upset — rightfully upset — that it took your daddy so long to figure it out! He needed you to spell it out for him to act on it!

“I don’t like sucking dicks!” you complain, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “That’s yucky!”

Shouto raised an eyebrow at that, his eyes flashing dangerously as he absorbed the implications of your actions. He knew he was going to earn this just as much as you were.

“Excuse me?” Shouto says calmly, a single eyebrow arched. “Do you want to repeat that?”

“You heard m-me,” you stammer, trying to remain steady under his steady stare. “If daddy couldn’t catch that, maybe I should be the one giving out the punishments.”

A hot, predatory smirk pulls across his face as his grip on your wrist tightens, and he yanks you just slightly closer towards him.

“Oh really?” he chuckles so coldly you shiver. “So you think you’re in charge here?”

You nod slowly, your pupils wide and blown. Your eyes were transfixed on his mouth, his pretty plump lips practically calling your name. 

His tongue swipes across his front teeth, and you watch him in awe, horror, and damning horny anticipation as he sits back on the couch and takes you down with him. You struggle for a bit, terrified as you feel unbalanced, ready to tumble to the floor. But your stomach is pressed heavily against his knees, pleasurable discomfort spreading through your body as you recognize this easy, beautiful spanking position. 

“I’m going to give you ten spanks,” Shouto announces, his hand rubbing smooth circles over your soft shorts. “You will count every one of them and thank me for each one. If you mess up, if you misbehave, you will get more until you do as I demand.”

You struggle against his hold, thrashing and twisting as his fingers push the shorts higher up your ass, exposing your flesh to him. But as he did so, you remember that you’re not wearing panties, and Shouto sees that too.

“Mm, you’re not wearing panties,” Shouto says, his voice trying to keep the undying want and lust from bleeding through his tone. “My precious doll is that desperate she couldn’t fully dress herself?”

“I can d-dress— aahhh!!!!”

Your interjection was interrupted by the sharp, well-practiced spank that Shouto delivered to your round ass. You arched against his lap, your skin tingling and feeling pathetically good. 

“I said you were my doll right now, and dolls don’t speak unless given permission to,” Shouto clipped, his hand circling your now tender flesh. “You didn’t count, so let's try again.”

SLAP.

“Oh my god!” you shriek at the contact, your head spinning at the craved touch. It wasn’t like his typical spanks, the ones that came down not to hurt but to remind you, to correct you to be better. These stung with power, reminding you that you were getting what you craved, and you felt your toes curl and your cunt beginning to seep with the knowledge.

Fuck, you wanted this.

THWACK.

“Again.”

THWACK.

“Daddy can spank your pretty little ass all day, doll. Do as you’re told if you want daddy’s cock.”

SPANK.

“O-One, thank you, daddy!”

WHACK!

You threw your head back at the sensation, your eyes crossing and your hips bucking backward as you shriek with pleasure. You don’t count, your head swimming with unfound energy, and Shouto tsks.

“You’re so terrible at following directions, aren’t you?” Shouto asks, his mouth hovering by your ear, and you nearly melt when his teeth tug at your cartilage at the same time he serves another heated spank to your perky ass. “Such a dirty brat, getting off on her punishments. But let me tell you, if you don’t start following what I instruct of you, I’ll fuck your mouth and leave you without any cummies.”

You gasp loudly, sobbing as he delivers yet another solid spank for your undoubtedly bruising ass. And so, with a pathetic, desperate nod, you agree.

You count to ten, thanking him each time with a beautiful sob that makes the bulge in his pants obvious to you. Your lips are swollen, bruised, and sheen with saliva from holding back your louder sobs. Your ass seems to be imprinted with the shape of his hand against your skin, and you tumble off his lap at the final thank you.

There’s slick gathered on your shorts, soaking through the pretty pink fabric turning it dark. 

“I forget that my beautiful baby girl is a masochist,” Shouto sighs as he stands up in front of you. You gasp on the floor, your head swimming with the building heat between your legs, and you hear an all too familiar, always exciting, sound of a belt being undone followed quickly by a zipper and rustling fabric.

“God, you’re so wonderful, doll,” Shouto sighs as he pulls out his hardening cock to where you’re already on your knees with wide, curious, hopeful eyes. “Already on your knees, ready to choke on daddy’s cock even though this is a punishment.”

You can barely register his words, your eyes focused and fascinated — scared almost — of the cock Shouto has. It’s fucking huge, and it’s thick, slightly curved upward with a pretty flushed tip and bulging veins. You were sure if you could even manage to take more than a few inches in!

“I think I remember something about how you don’t like deep throating,” Shouto hums contemplatively. You freeze, your heart stopping for just a moment at what he’s implying. “Well, it’s a good thing this is a punishment.”

His fingers press into your mouth, making you choke, and with your lips spread wide, mouth open for taking, Shouto guides his cock into your parted lips with a dangerous moan. 

There's an immediate ache in your jaw, the size, and girth of his cock overwhelming you without so much doubt. You gag immediately at the weight of it pressing on your tongue, filling your mouth. Heat hammers in your cunt, and you heave against him.

Shouto sighs as if he was in heaven, his hands grabbing the back of your head and slamming your head as far down his cock. So far that your nose brushed against the skin of his stomach, before pressing against it completely. 

Shouto moans louder than your panicked gags and chokes, his hips swirling and twisting as he looks down at you with lovesick eyes. “You’re so good at this,” Shouto praises, his fingers wiping away the tears that prick at your eyes. “So good.  Daddy’s so pleased with you, taking my cock so well. So beautiful even when you cry on my dick.”

Your throat spasms around his cock, your lungs burning severely from the lack of oxygen. Not a single part of your body able to relax as you desperately sought to breathe. It hurt, but it felt so good. Saliva began to pool from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin and drooling on your clothed breasts.

Shouto took notice and hummed contently.

“Daddy’s going to count to the number ten,” he informed you, rolling his hips further into your mouth, shoving his cock even further down your throat than you thought possible. “If you can keep your pretty nose pressed to daddy’s stomach the entire time, daddy promises you he will give you the best orgasm you’ve ever received.”

You made a squeaking noise around his cock, your fingers that were buried into his shirt gripping tighter as he suddenly lets go of your head.

“One.”

Resisting the urge to pull off him completely was a near-losing battle.

“Two.”

Your body shook with intensity, the scorching need to properly breathe slamming down on you.

“Three… four…”

Shouto’s hands began to pet your head, soothing the worried lines on your face, brushing away your tears.

“Five… six… fuck, you’re so gorgeous, baby girl.”

You whimper around his cock, and Shouto moans liquid gold in return. He smiles deviously, fingers brushing down your throat.

“Seven… eight…” you choke loudly when his fingers press against your throat, tightening your already spasming throat around his cock, furthering the burning sensation all throughout your body. “Nine…”

You look at him with pleading eyes, wordlessly begging for mercy, for something as he pauses for more than a second between nine and ten. His hips lazily jerk into your mouth, his free hand combing his hair back, messily styling it as he smirks. Your saliva was dripping uncontrollably now, pooling at the back of your throat, on your tongue, past your lips. Shouto sighs, his eyes bright with power, with the knowledge that you were so obedient.

“Ten.”

Immediately, you collapse from his cock. Saliva and pre-cum connecting your coughing mouth to his hard dick still. Your lungs ache, and your breathing is frantic as you try to regain a sense of composure. Your tears meaning nothing so long as the inferno between your thighs is tamed. 

“You did so well, baby girl,” Shouto praises, and despite the pain in your lungs, you puff up at the praise. “You did exactly what daddy asked for you, so daddy believes you deserve a reward. Do you agree?”

Unable to speak, your belly tight and warm, and your throat aching slightly, you nod eagerly.

“Use your words, angel,” Shouto coos; he steps out of his pants before squatting before you, his fingers grazing your chin. “Daddy loves it when he hears you speaking.”

“I would love a r-reward, daddy,” you whimper softly. 

Your eyes swim with want, with inexplicable needs and desires. Shouto softens when he notices you nosing into his palms; he brushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“Look at how politely you asked that,” Shouto praises, kissing you softly on the corner of your mouth. “Daddy’s so proud of you, sweetheart.”

You keen some more, your wet eyelashes batting in your excitement and undying love for him.

“Now, daddy wants you to go to your room and take off all the clothes you want. Once you’re ready, I want you to call me in, and then daddy will take excellent care of you, okay?” Shouto commands you, his lips pressing softly onto your cheeks, eyelids, and finally softly onto your lips.

You gasp loudly at the touch, your eyes wide but looking incredibly drunk at the touch.

“Okay!” you giggle, pressing forward and taking his lips into another kiss.

He hums before assisting you to your feet, and you breathlessly laugh as you turn around and skip away towards your room. 

Your room is neat, as is required of Shouto. Your bed is neatly organized; there’s nothing on the floor or on your chair. Everything is put away correctly and cleanly. Grinning, you take off your shirt followed by your bra, shimming off your shorts, you toss away your clothes into your hamper, leaving only your socks on.

Hopping onto your bed, you grab a stuffed animal before turning to face the door and sing.

“Daddy, I’m ready!!!”

You squeal after saying that, excitedly staring at the closed door, eagerly anticipating the way Shouto would walk in. Your eyelashes flutter when you see the doorknob twist and in comes Shouto, who, unlike you, is completely naked.

Now you knew he was fit, even with your mind beginning to sink into your little space, you knew that Shouto was a handsome, fine man. He was built, muscular, and toned. He was tall, his head nearly hitting the top of the door if it wasn’t for the fact he was leaning against the doorframe. There is a slight smile on his face that screams of his pride, his joy of seeing you like this. And his eyes rake like hot coals against your body.

You shudder.

“Aren’t you cute,” Shouto murmurs, pride evident in his tone. He walks towards you, tongue slipping between his lips as he reaches the foot of the bed. “Such a beautiful princess, but now… what does princess need?”

“I need my daddy to take care of me,” you whisper, eyes hooded and mouth turning dry as he begins leaning onto the bed. “I want my daddy.”

“Such a dirty girl,” Shouto says with a chuckle as you begin to lean back onto your bed, your legs spreading for him. “Such a dirty, gorgeous girl.”

Your breathing stutters as the bed moves under his weight, and you’re practically panting as you watch his body slowly crawl over yours. Shouto looks down at you, his eyes deceivingly bright even with the shadows, and your eyes flutter as he leans down. 

You’re expecting a kiss, craving the feeling of his smooth, plump lips on yours. But you gasp in shock, betrayal, and in lust when his lips press against your earlobe. He trails his kisses everywhere, kissing every inch, every centimeter of your face, but never once your lips.

“Daddy, stop teasing!!” you whine loudly, feet kicking on the mattress and hands burying into his hair.

“I’m not teasing you,” Shouto objects, but the grin on his face says otherwise. “Why do you think I’m teasing you? What do you want?” 

“I want daddy’s kisses! Give me your kisses!” you cry with a pout.

With a burst of cheerful laughter that warms your heart and makes your belly flip, Shouto presses downward, capturing your lips with his. The contact is blissful, everything and more that you need. You eagerly kiss him back, making noises that are both sinful and so blessedly innocent as your arms wrap around his neck.

Shouto kisses you back with matching intensity, one elbow resting by your head, the other resting on your hip as he allows your tongue to press into his mouth. He lets you greedily take what you want, his thumb on your hip drawing nonsensical pictures. But as you shudder against him, completely overwhelmed by this all. Shouto probes his tongue into your mouth, gliding his wet, hot muscle against the roof of your mouth and the back of your teeth until your panting, unable to do anything but absorb him.

“So pretty, so cute when you’re like this. A beautiful doll for her daddy,” Shouto whispers into your mouth, and you can only moan in response. 

“I need daddy,” you speak, your glazed eyes unable to even look at Shouto. “I need daddy so bad.”

“Where does my princess need me?” Shouto speaks, his lips trailing down your slick chin and neck. “Right here?” he asks, sinking his teeth onto your neck and sucking softly.

“A-Aahhh~,” you shudder, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to place hickey after hickey on your neck, your collarbones, and the spot right behind your ear that makes you melt. “Yes, I need you everywhere… I need daddy’s mouth and cummies in me.”

“Your boobs are so cute, baby girl,” Shouto whispers, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you notice that he’s nosing against your breasts. “So pretty, better than anything I could have hoped for.”

You whine loudly, your body arching off the bed as his hot tongue dips out and licks a pebbled nipple. You pant as he licks again, your fingers burying into his hair.

“Such beautiful nipples, you make your daddy so happy,” Shouto praises, and you gasp loudly as his mouth envelopes your nipple. Your cunt throbs with intriguing want, your socked feet traveling up the line of his leg as his teeth graze and move your nipple in his mouth. “You make me the proudest daddy ever.”

His fingers card down your stomach, trailing and lingering around your cunt, and yet never once touching it. It’s tactical, teasing, and mind spinning. Your clit spasms with needed attention, angry with the teasing, desperate for contact — for attention. You make a noise, something not quite human, unable to pull yourself from your growing fuzzy head as Shouto moves from one nipple to the next.

Shouto chuckles, his eyes of blue and grey flashing up at you dangerously, knowingly.

“Don’t tease me, daddy,” you whisper, hips circling, thrusting into the air where you wish his fingers were.

“Okay,” he promises, and as if he could read your thoughts, his teeth gently bit down on your untouched yet demanding nipple. Your head slams against the mattress, your chest once again feeling alive as if you had been electrocuted. He sucks your nipple, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh, warm tongue, and spit sinking into your nerves. His fingers taking care of your lonesome nipple, keeping it company with gentle, purposeful rolls as he has you sobbing his name. And when you thought the teasing couldn’t get worse, his fingers finally land where you want it most.

On your clit.

“You’re perfect, angel; I love you so much.”

It happens then, like a warm blanket being placed over you — comforting, warm, making the pain in your body hum with only pleasure, and your body trembles with peaking need.

“I wanna… I wanna do more,” you coo, eyes heavy and feigning intoxication as you look up at your daddy. “I wanna please my daddy!”

Your daddy blinks at you, head tilting before a knowing look flashes across his eyes, and he smiles softly, fingers abandoning their spots to press gently against your cheeks. You don’t even mind, so excited and happy that he’s holding you.

“What do you want, sunshine?”

“Can I please suck daddy’s nipples?” you ask with a hopeful face, “He made me feel so good, and I — I wanna make my daddy feel good too!”

“You wanna suck daddy’s nipples? Okay.”

You giggle loudly as the world spins, and you gasp when you’re suddenly sitting straight up, your wet cunt pressing against his hip bone. You laugh lightly, a bell-like giggle, and your hands press to his chest. “That was so fun!”

“Was it—?”

Your daddy can’t finish his sentence because you caught sight of his dusty brown nipples and launched forward, capturing the soft tissue in your mouth. 

It tastes like your daddy, the salt and unique taste he has. And your tongue lashes at it, your cheeks hollowing as you suck at it some more. It hardens in your mouth, a sensation that has you breaking away from him with a beautiful gasp.

“Am I doing a good job?!” you ask, looking at the pretty pink flush on your daddy’s face as he heaves slightly, flustered and a bit out of breath. “My nipples do that when you do a job, daddy!”

“You’re doing so well,” your daddy informs you, and you laugh excitedly. “Do you want… do you want daddy’s cock now?” 

“Daddy’s cock?” you question, heat rushing to your face at the naughty word. “W-What does that mean?”

“Daddy’s cock is how I can make you feel good,” daddy explains, his fingers trailing up and down your thighs, playing with the hem of your socks. 

You giggle as he snaps at it playfully.

“You’ve been doing such a good job, sunshine, and daddy’s cock hurts and wants to be in you.”

“In me?”

“Mmhm, and when it’s in you, you can get daddy’s cummies,” daddy smiles softly. “You want daddy’s cummies, remember?”

You think about it, unsure if you had wanted it, but then you remember that you had said it.

“Will daddy’s cummies help me? My stomach feels funny, a-and I feel wet.”

Daddy nods fast, his body shifting so that he’s in a sitting position and your wet chest presses against him. It’s a sensation you’re unfamiliar with, and you make an embarrassing squeaking noise at the feeling.

“I promise it’ll make you feel better, sunshine.”

You think about it some more, your arms wrapping around his neck as you think. But soon enough, you find yourself giggling and nodding, “I trust my daddy!”

“I’m so glad you do. Daddy’s so glad his baby girl trusts him.”

And the next thing you know, you’re back on your back, and your daddy looms over you, spreading your legs wide apart. You look down at gasp at the sight of daddy’s cock.

“It’s so big!” you shriek, “Where is that going, daddy?!”

“This is going right… there,” daddy emphasizes, pressing two fingers into a part of your body that has you speechless. It’s an intrusion you’re almost unfamiliar with, and yet it makes your head spin and your body hot with need and action from him. “I promise it’ll feel so good; I’ll make you feel so good.”

“O-Okay,” you whimper, watching your daddy pull something against the length of his cock before pressing the swollen head to the entrance that made you feel funny in a good way. “I’m ready, daddy.”

“I’m so glad,” your daddy smiles, and with a gentle kiss to your temple, he presses his cock into you.

“DADDY!” you shriek as his cock pressed into you, filling you out and stretching you out completely. The sensation is overwhelming, piercing pleasure slamming through your body as your arms and legs wrap around him in a vice-like grip. 

Daddy’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in close as his hips begin rutting in and out of you. The sensation, the rhythm, is constant and is intoxicating. The creak of the mattress and the loud, grateful cries of your mouth into the crook of his neck fills the room. And then he shifts you just a bit, his hips able to thrust further, more profound, into you, and a wanton, nearly voluptuous noise escapes your mouth. 

“Kiss me, daddy!” you cry, head thrusting back into the mattress, pleasure saturating so deep in your brain you can’t think anymore. “Kiss me, please! Kiss me, kiss me, kissmekissmekiss—”

His mouth is over yours, hot pants and wrecked breathing is passed between open parted lips. Your tongue pushes against his teeth, unable to find his tongue as your hips swirl and thrust up into his thrust cock. Every thrust sends daddy’s cock deeper into your pulling, demanding cunt, stretching you out, sending you further out in an unimaginable way. Your walls spasm uncontrollably, clenching and tightening without a single input. 

But soon, daddy’s shifting up onto his knees, and you can only wildly cry out for him when his arms shift from keeping you close to pressing behind your knees and shoving your knees into the mattress by your shoulders. The most primal, deranged moan rips from your mouth as the stretch sends his cock to a place in your cunt you never could imagine existing. You shake like a child against him, fingers scraping at his back, tearing his skin as your heels dig into his back. The head of his cock buries and brushes against your cervix, making you cry and see colors you’ve never seen before in your life. Your praises for your daddy are endless, and his powerful pounding sends the headboard of your bed crashing against the wall harder and harder.

“How are you feeling, bunny?” Daddy grunts, his face contorted with pleasure and the need to look at you. “Do you feel my cock in you? Can you feel daddy’s cock hitting your cervix?”

“D-Daddy, I-I — ohhh my god!” you sob, your hips pathetically rutting up and down against his cock, stupidly furthering how deep his cock can go, your cervix melting with pleasure, making you oh so dizzy. You can only blabber. “Daddy’s cock is so big, it’s so good! It’s making my stomach feel so funny! I’m so scared!”

“Don’t be scared,” your daddy pleads against your neck, though his speed and strength doesn’t lessen. “Your stomach feeling funny is a good thing; it’s supposed to happen! I promise you, this is how it's supposed to happen. Okay?”

“Okay, daddy, okay, okay, okay,” your voice lessened to a senseless babble. Your sentences blurring together, and your cheek pressed into the mattress, and drool pooled from your lips. 

His pace is completely irreplicable now; every maddening powerful thrust of his hips sends the headboard into the wall. The wet slapping echoing throughout the room when he pierces into you almost drowned out both of your senseless cries. 

It almost scared you, the sensation foreign, but his gentle reminder that this was normal, that you would be okay, kept you from spiraling. Slick erupts in your cunt, an overwhelming heat that throbs right in your core, coating your thighs and your stomach, and with every slam of his hips, it grows only more. 

Intensifying. 

Exhilarating. 

The temperature of your body sizzles off you in immense heat. His lips press against yours, a maddening escape of lust and need exchanging between your parted lips. Your saliva is everywhere, covering both of your faces — connecting them even when you part. But that didn’t stop him; it only fueled him to kiss you entirely, wordlessly praising you, engulfing you with his mouth, daring you with his tongue.

You were barely keeping up with his snapping hips, your mouth begging for more when he suckled on your tongue.

“It’s feeling so funny!” you suddenly cry as your daddy’s fingers pinch and rub against something between your legs that sends electric waves throughout every nerve in your body. “I feel like Imma pee, daddy! I can’t stop it! I can’t stop!”

“It’s okay, let it happen,” your daddy grunts into your ear, and with that, the calming steady of his voice, you let the heat, the tightness in your stomach you feel like is piss, slam through you. 

A tingling, white noise power sensation slams through your entire body. You arch into your daddy, your scream dying on your tongue as your body thumps with a full-body heartbeat. It sends your toes curling, your fingernails scarring his back, and a pathetic, pleasure-derived sob released into your daddy’s sweaty neck. 

His thrusting keeps up for a bit, letting your clenching and relaxing cunt finish him until his thrusts border sloppy, and with a final thrust that has your fingers trembling, he stops, collapsing onto you.

You don’t know what happens next, only that for one moment too long, it’s silent with only heaving breathing and incredibly warm body heat. Your eyes close, and you’re out before you even know it.

.

.

.

You open your eyes to a dark room.

Shouto is next to you, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he holds a wet, warm cloth to your body, gently cleaning you up.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, your voice scratchy and nearly blown. “Did I drop and pass out after cumming?”

Shouto jumped at your voice, looking up at your face with a tired but satisfied grin, “You did.”

You laugh softly, not quite humorlessly, not entirely because you were amused. You sit up, groaning at how your lower body screams in pain; well, it seemed that your drop really did hide any pain.

“That was fun,” you grin, eyes closing as Shouto presses the cloth to your neck, cleaning the sweat and saliva there. “Glad I decided to speak up on that — ow!”

You pouted as Shouto retreated his pinching fingers from your ribcage.

“You didn’t speak up; you acted out and then spoke up,” Shouto chuckled, sighing as he leaned backward, allowing for you to stretch your tired limbs.

“I still managed to say my truth,” you grin, taking the wet cloth from his hands and focusing on his body. Shouto sat there, still and silent, as you gingerly cleaned… everything off him.

“Well, if we’re saying our truths, can I ask something?” Shouto murmurs, so unlike his typical confident demur. You pause for a moment before nodding, continuing to clean the broken skin on his body. “Would you like to be my girlfriend? I-I know this is cheesy and all, but I feel like I want you outside of our arrangement, outside of the dynamic.”

You can’t help but laugh, making Shouto look panicked, even if for a bit.

“I thought I was the only one.”

.

.

.

“Sero, psst, Sero!” Mina whispers loudly, hitting her friend in the back of the head with an eraser.

“Shit, what?” Sero hisses, a slight annoyance in his face from being hit.

“Look!”

Sero follows Mina’s pointed finger over where you and Shouto sat, in the middle of your own world despite it being smack in the middle of the lecture. He scanned your bodies more intensely and froze at the sight of purple and red bruises on both your necks.

“Is that—?!”

“YES!!!”

“HOLY SHIT! WE CALLED IT!”

“Sero!” boomed the voice of Aizawa, their scariest professor ever. “Is there something you would like to share with the class?”

Sero freezes, an awkward smile blooming on his face as he shrugs, “I’m just noticing some hickies today, that’s all!”

There could have been no casualties in this admittance; after all, Aizawa didn’t give two shits about hickies on university students. But the loud, panicked “shit!” coming from you was undoubtedly damning. 

Shouto snickered, his fingers tugging at the collar of your shirt as his fingers brushed against the collection of bruises, “I think they look nice.”

[atomicpoetrymusic-blog]

Just wanted to say my piece about hsmtmts s3 as a whole, and why it means so much to me. This is a full on ramble (what can I say, I shouldn't have gotten started), so don't feel obligated to read.

This show has been so important to me recently, as I have been going through a lot in my personal, professional and general life. 'Finally Free' and 'Here I Come' in particular mean the world to me, I honestly cry when I listen to them.

Secondly, I just absolutely adore Rina. There is something so special about this relationship, and though I have a couple issues with that final scene, I have to say the build up over the seasons was beautiful (and super frustrating, but in a good way). Josh and Sofia have such great chemistry, and the characters are so wonderfully written, it's insane. As a writer, I want to have this level of skill. I feel like I can't fit all my thoughts on Ricky and Gina into an overview of what I enjoyed, so I'll move on.

I really liked the new characters, especially Jet and Maddox, and was so happy with the brief appearances from the other cast members (especially Seb and Big Red). Although I never particularly liked or connected with Nini (nothing to do with Olivia, Nini just wasn't my cup of tea), her goodbye scenes were really well done and made me emotional.

I really like that Redlyn both came out, but were still happy in their own relationship. They clearly love each other, and are comfortable enough with each other to be open and honest, which is honestly so nice to see. Whether they further explore that or not, it was a sweet way to end the season for them. I also just love the fact that we see Ashlyn go on this whole journey of discovering her sexuality, and then Big Red just swoops in after not being seen for ages, casually announces "I'm bi" on an international stage, and then just dips. Honestly, so in character for both of them, I love it.

I myself have struggled with anxiety for pretty much my whole life, so Kourtney's arc has also meant a lot to me. I genuinely sobbed when I watched 'Let It Go' (the song, not the episode). It also goes to show that even if you put up a brave exterior, or are interested in performing, you can still have these nerves (as a shy, introverted theatre kid when I was younger, I can relate), and also that they can persevere, even if you have made steps to reduce the fear.

Carlos's body image issues are also something I can relate to, and I liked how they handled it, though I think it should be touched on more next season, if only briefly. It felt a little pushed under the carpet in favour of moving the plot along - due to episode lengths, budgets and behind the scenes stuff, I completely understand why, it just felt a little underdeveloped.

Because I am a diehard Rina shipper (and have been since season 1), EJ's plot this season has been harder for me to digest, but I think the writers handled it fairly well. We have seen in previous seasons how he feels undervalued by his dad (Cash Caswell is a terrible father, and I will stand by this), and EJ's struggle to achieve perfection is really quite difficult to see, as he just keeps being let down by his dad over and over again.

Ultimately, I think he needs to develop himself without a romantic relationship to fall back on. EJ needs to learn who he wants to be in his current stage in life, and focus on himself. I do agree that he hasn't had the recognition he deserves for directing and featuring in the show, but he also didn't take into account what others (especially his girlfriend) were feeling about how he was treating them, and he, like Gina did before him, needs to find balance between achieving his goals and maintaining healthy relationships. Another reason why Portwell just aren't suited to each other right now.

Jet and Maddox's sibling relationship was also pretty well done, and I love that by the documentary promo release, they are basically the epitome of sibling culture - teasing, but ultimately caring. As a little sister myself, it felt natural and sweet, and Maddox teasing Jet about his crush on Kourtney is absolutely something I would do to my brother. Saylor and Adrian definitely both exude big sis/little bro vibes when they're together, and were well cast, specifically as siblings.

I also liked the Ricky aspect of the Jet/Maddox dynamic, and what it meant to his character as a whole. Ricky, being the sweet sunshine child he truly is, tries to get to know Jet, despite knowing nothing about him, in an attempt to 'wear his dark soul down'. He really believes that he can get through to Jet, even though most of the others are wary.

This is a pattern with Ricky, it seems, as he has also attempted to break down the barriers with Lily, and actually succeeds at getting through to Gina. Though his relationships with each of these characters are different (and have different meanings not just to the audience, but to Ricky as well), it shows, rather than tells, that Ricky is the kind of person who sees the good in people and actively tries to encourage that goodness. This is character writing at it's finest, and the writing team should be proud.

I saw somewhere that Ricky's interfering in the sibling rivalry was because he, as a child of divorce, had the idea that getting 2 people in a room will magically get them back together and everything would be ok. As a child of divorce myself, this take hit me hard, but I can't say I disagree. It is quite interesting how this sort of behaviour and thinking can develop over the passage of time, and I think it was well-executed.

Gina, as well, has had really good character writing. Despite it being her 'Summer of Firsts', she shows how mature she can be, not just in her breakup scene with EJ (which was very well done), but also in taking Emmy and Alex under her wing. Despite the slight missteps in her approach to begin with, she ultimately helped Emmy out of her shell, and supported her through her nerves. Gina really did manage to find balance between wanting a leading role, while also being there for others, and it was done in a way that felt natural.

This is nowhere near everything I have felt and observed about this show, but I'm happy for now.

In conclusion, I love this silly little Disney show more than I probably should, and I can't wait for season 4.

[dinitride-art]

Why Mike and Will Can’t Die

Thought we might need this in the tag today. 

1. Mike is the main character. We’ve got three of them right now, Mike, Joyce and El. That’s why they’re always separated from each other because they have different ways in which they drive the plot. Originally, it was just Mike and Joyce, and El was made more into a main character in season two. 

2. Will Byers mother is Joyce. His sister is El. Him and Mike are just different. Those are his three strongest relationships (besides Jonathan). The three main characters that drive the plot are his three strongest relationships. You take away Will, and you break everything. Why didn’t Will die in season one? Because he’s important. 

3. Many of the characters that have been killed off so far have something in common. So; Barb, Bob, Eddie. These are our big ones. They were all introduced in the season they died in. That’s one. The second one is that they all kind of acted as comic relief and/or voices of reason. They had a purpose that was the development of other characters. 

Barb was needed in Nancy’s story to both give her character something to do in season one and lay the foundations of her character for the rest of the series. 

Bob was there to figure stuff out with the mind flayer, and to say some things that would lead Joyce to move at the end of season three. He was also there to die and traumatize other characters, and put in the running theme of ‘sometimes running is better.’ 

Eddie served as character development/growth for Mike. He was also important to pushing characters in quite a few directions. Steve towards Nancy and small things he said that had an impact. Also, since he was so similar to Mike, his death was also very similar to when Mike jumped off the quarry in season one. Eddie died, but he didn’t have to- there were other ways. But like Mike, Eddie tuned out Dustin screaming and did it anyways because he had an incentive not to care whether he lived or died: even if he lived he’d be framed as a murderer, and even if his name was cleared it would never go back, not really. 

Dustin seeing Eddie die was important because it’s pulling on Dustin’s stuff from season one. Also, it was in line with the ‘sometimes running is better’ theme. 

So, Mike and Will have been around for every season. And usually, when they say things, it does not help anyone- and I mean that in the nicest way possible. They are there to cause problems and then try to fix them or have someone else try and fix them. 

4. The others that have died deserved it. Billy and Jason(the basketball one, I’m not sure if that’s his name or not) and Brenner died because they were terrible people and their deaths gave our characters closure. 

Mike and Will’s deaths would give us the opposite of closure. It would be very cruel to us, and unnecessary to the audience as a whole. 

5. When people die in stranger things, it causes long-lasting problems. Trauma is another theme in stranger things that’s been there the whole time. Will Byers started off with trauma and then he got more and it just keeps getting worse for him. Mike is in the same boat. Problems are meant to be fixed. Things that continually cause trauma are problems. Unresolved problems are plot holes and they make for an unsatisfactory ending. 

6. Either they didn’t run or they were cruel or they were meant to be horrifying (Vecna’s victims). That’s why they die. The deaths in stranger things aren’t used for shock value, they’re used to advance the plot and to wrap up the plot. The deaths usually have a message attached to them; don’t be a terrible human being and running is safer, are two of them. 

Trauma and perseverance because of the people around you who care about you are important. Season one, we had Joyce and Jonathan and Will. We had Mike who had Dustin and his mom and El and Lucas.  In season two Will had all his friends, Bob, his mom, Jonathan, and especially Mike. In season three El had Hopper, Mike and Max. In season four things got a bit out of place, but that fits with how that season ended. 

Not only does Mike and Will dying not make sense, individually or together, in the narrative structure, but killing them goes against the core message of the show; perseverance through trauma is because of the people around you. Mike and Will have each other, Will knows he has Jonathan, Mike might not know he has people, but he’s going to. Either way, if they believe it or not, they have people who will support them. 

If they still end up dying, even though they had people who care about them and are there for them through anything, what the fuck would that even be saying about trauma?