#and this is the case with so fucking much. like this is the whole structure of respectability politics.

[valentineish]

Something that gets referenced, but not fully understood in discussions of privilege is like. How dependent on legal family that shit is. Acting up in class is treated with additional suspicion and fear if you have an incarcerated or institutionalized parent. Disability resources assume you have family caring for you. You're only "white passing" until you're observed with your Black family. Childhood and young adult poverty are dismissed because the assumption is that family should be able to fill in the gaps.

Part of how things like whiteness and patriarchy and classism remain systemic is with dependence on legal familial units. One's place within these structures depends on who you are related to, and how you call upon them – if you can. This reinforcement exists both as punishment (E.G., "one-drop" law in the U.S.), and as reward (E.G., generational estate planning).

Importantly, this system relies on having legally bound family to call upon. That is the support upon which every other support network, benefit, and penalty is built upon. Since becoming an adult orphan, I cannot overstate how stark it becomes if you lack that pillar. Every one of these systems is built to grind up and discard the people without a family unit – without the right kin.

Particularly at this juncture in history, it is vital that people see this.

[cyatzura]

i get why people don't like the culling game arc because it really wasn't required for the narrative for the most part but to me most battles were so much fun!!!!! i think it was way more enjoyable than the school tournament arc meanwhile shinjuku showdown is soooo important for the story but like ... it was kinda boring for the most part

[fingertipsmp3]

There are two wolves inside me. One is trying to convince me to do extensive research for the job interview tomorrow and the other is saying “wing it”

[hecksupremechips]

You people are so easy lol

Mizuki and Date though like. Imagine being 8 and your parents are filthy rich and going through a bad divorce. Your mom treats you like shit, lashing out at you, hitting you, saying she wishes you were never born all because you were behaving like a child. Your dad is more comforting, but he doesn’t do anything to stop the abuse and he spends his time invested in a completely different family, a girl who you love and look up to but he loves her more than you and it fucking shows. Then your dads new friend, some fucking bachelor in his late 20s, is just like "wow you guys are the worst fucking parents ive ever seen" and next thing you know your dad is sending you off to live with him. And it’s just a massive kick in the head cuz you go from a rich lifestyle to living in some really shitty tiny ass apartment with this guy who’s clearly never been around a child in his entire life and he doesn’t know how to behave and does a really bad job of censoring himself like he has a bunch of dirty magazines that he can’t hide very well cuz it’s literally a studio apartment and also he talks to himself sometimes, it’s really weird. He doesn’t even have the slightest clue what he’s doing

And he’s the best parent you’ve ever had

Because fuck, it all really hurts. You have to cope with having never received any love from anyone, and with the fact that your parents clearly don’t want you and can’t even be bothered to send you with anyone even kinda responsible. And this guy has a scary job with crazy hours and you don’t know anything about him and neither does he. But still, he never once hits you or tells you you’re not allowed to cry. He just gives you space and doesn’t push you to feel any sort of way about him. And sometimes, he’s even kind. He makes you some stew, even though it’s a bit chunky. He lets you sleep in the bed and takes the couch for himself, even though he complains about the massive back pain he’d never trade his spot for a second. He pays attention to events at your school and gives you your favorite stuffed animal when you make good grades, even though you called it ugly. He gets worried sick when you come home with bruises and puts on a goofy voice and trains you to defend yourself and you develop some highly deadly skills and even though it’s really abnormal, he buys you a bench press so you can get stronger. There’s this distance there, and you feel really weird caring about someone who you aren’t related to, but you find yourself wishing it was meant to be like this all along, that maybe, he’s secretly your real dad and he loves you like his real daughter

And when you say "I’m back" he says "welcome home"

[stressfulsloth]

I've seen a couple of takes about Disco Elysium being copaganda going around recently, and beyond the fact that DE is relentlessly critical of the police force in general and makes explicit reference to the failures of the system that allow the officers in game to abuse their power, I also think it's important to note that there very literally is an in-world version of copaganda that the writers of the game use to parody that romanticised view of the brutality of policing. The RCM at their inception were structurally inspired by in-world copaganda- their culture, their "fashions, even weapon preferences, borrow heavily from classic Vespertine cop shows." Every investigation is it's own little drama, every officer imagining themselves to be the bad-ass hero of their own crime serial. Detectives name their cases like they're naming episodes of a TV series in a "robust but literary system"; a title that "draws inspiration from snoop fiction and Vespertine cop show staples". They give themselves nicknames to sound like cool, suave fictional officers- Ace, Dick Mullen, etc.- from the cool, suave world of copaganda.

The legend of the RCM's inception, the "point of contention" over its uncertain origins, is even an extention of that; the whole organisation is shrouded in this self-fictionalising mythos that allows for distance that in turn obfuscates much of its violence to the officers that participate in it. They get to convince themselves that they're not abusing their power; they're the hero of the story! The dichotomy of "good guy" taking out the "baddies," a manifestation of the libertarian fantasy of the "good guy with a gun" who does what it takes, just like in Annette's detective novels, and at the same time who rails against oversight bodies like Internal Affairs/'the rat squad' because due process slows down the immediate satisfaction of Swift Justice, despite Internal Affairs existing to protect the citizens from overreach on behalf of the police. "Wanton brutality" from police in their real world is a cold bitter reality but Dick Mullen was "made to crack skulls," "bend the rules and solve cases no one else can," and which version of that story is more comforting to the overworked, underfunded officers of the RCM?

The level of fantasy and detachment required for the cops to still see themselves as the good guys after everything that they do in the line of duty mimics The Pigs and her breakdown too; she parallels Harry so clearly. Both "did right by the kids" in the past, hoping for a better future- Marianne (The Pigs) by looking out for Titus and the Hardy boys when they were young, Harry in his role as a gym teacher. Both abandoned and left behind by the system that the RCM uphold- a brutal capitalist landscape with no safety nets. Both turning the source of their trauma into a costume, a performance, a shield, shaped by "radio waves and cop shows." The Pigs uses RCM items scavenged from the Esperance where they'd been thrown away, while Harry uses the Dick Mullen hat that Annette gives him but both are essentially in costume.

Harry identifies himself with the fictional detective as a kind of wish fulfilment; Dick Mullen is "wicked smart." He doesn't fuck up his cases and when he's sad it's not pathetic; it's effortlessly cool brooding and everyone sympathises. Everyone loves him. His violence- "skull crack[ing]"- is justified because he's a "good guy" enacting that violence against the victims of police brutality sorry "bad guys". He doesn't ever face repercussions; "Dick Mullen won't be sent to the clink for the sake of some legal niceties!" So if Harry is Dick Mullen then his failures, his breakdown, they're all just a part of being a "bad-ass, on-the-edge disco cop." He's not wrong, he's a hero! This idealised fictionalised idea of the police force, this "new, sadly better, reality" that both Harry and The Pigs cling to is "escapist stuff," "receed[ing] into a ludicrous fantasy world," so far removed from the brutal material reality that they're in.

My point is, idk. Disco Elysium is so far from being copaganda. It is a multi-million word long dissection of it, of the purpose of policing, of state sanctioned violence and its interaction with capital and the fallout experienced within the wider community as well as the trauma cycle created for individual officers. A dissection of how copaganda interacts with RCM culture and perception, and by extension how we interact with irl perceptions of police through that lens.

[alleyskywalker]

Endearment? Endearment?? Armand… No ok but this is kinda insane, and it has layers too because… So, obviously it’s wild to call this…kind of disturbing title, that just screams power, an endearment. But we know Armand longs to be loved. Whether he fully admits it to himself of not, but he probably wants to be called by an endearment now and again, an expression of love and devotion that’s tangible and easily accessible, clearly expressed. But who is there to call him by an endearment? He’s got no family (as most vampires), no companion for centuries now, not even any particularly close friend(s). Given the rank difference between him and the coven members, it’s also unlikely that he would be forming those kind of intimate bonds with any of them – like, yea sure, they’re all fucking each other, but that’s surface, and they were probably still calling him Maitre then. And at the same time, the coven is the closest he’s got to family/friends. So if he can just kind of refrain Maitre as an endearment – consciously or not – it fills that hole a little. It’s a title, yes, but also a name signaling not just power dynamics but closeness and devotion, from the only people who are in any way positioned to offer him that (even if in reality they don’t). He just needs this so much, he’ll pretend.

On another layer…the fact that Armand is even capable of reframing this as an endearment at all… Seems to speak to his history and the relationship with Marius. How the last (and only?) time that he felt loved, cared for and safe was with Marius (as fucked up as that relationship was – Armand’s coping mechanisms include romanticizing the abuse). And he would have referred to Marius as Master – Maitre. Also a title, but within the context there it became something of an endearment too, and that conflation would be perpetuated by the fact that that’s what Armand called the last person who offered him at least the illusion of love and care, the closest he ever had to those things at any rate. (Like especially with show!Armand whose own parents sold him into slavery, etc.)

But then also the last layer of the dynamic with Louis and how the whole “call me Armand” thing functions as a weird double-edged sword. Like…in a normal circumstance, someone saying, “you don’t need to use my title just call me by name” would be a sign of closeness, an invitation toward intimacy. And in some ways, it still is here. Louis functions outside of Armand’s norma structures, he’s different. He’s special. But given the context that he’s just called his an endearment and the coven being the closest substitute for a family/friendship group…imagine calling someone by a nickname their family/friends use and they ask you to call them by their full name. That creates distance – we don’t have that kind of relationship yet. And as they’ve only just met, that would make sense… It’s especially interesting in relation to the bench scene, the scene where they commit (recommit in Armand’s case?) to each other, and Armand calls Louis Maitre for the first time. Agh I love them, they’re just so much.

[marysdigdiaries101]

NEW INTERESTS

summary: as business woman barbie, you had to be quite serious and uptight about your field of work. so when you couldn't make it sleepover night, which wasn't unexpected of course ꒰but nevertheless꒱ , stereotypical barbie comes to check up on you.

warning/s: top! barbie, bottom! reader, no smut, but it's implied, fluff/comfort, tired reader, talk of depression, swearing, not proofread, pretend they have genitals btw.

word count: forgot to check lmao

authors note: hi hi hii ! first post omg? i just watched the new barbie movie and..im fucking obsessed, i swear i missed half the movies dialogue tho cause i was admiring margot's gorgeous face. anyway i thought what if we had a super stressed, borderline depressed barbie who just needed a break from her thoughts ? enjoy pookies ! ୨♡୧

+ btw men dni.

navigation ! | ୨♡୧

the wheels of your pastel pink car came to a stop in your driveway as you sluggishly dragged yourself out of the drivers seat. another long day, another girls night you couldn't deal with. bright lights illuminated the moving bodies on the vast dance floor, pointed stilettos tapping and turning swiftly as stiff hands clapped and clicked to the music.

clutching your purse, you moved across the dance floor, avoiding flapping arms and desperate kens in need of a dance partner. as you got to the last section of your mission, you felt a pair of eyes on you, a pair of eyes that were too familiar for you to shake off. looking over to your far left you found a set ocean blue eyes staring right back at you. the one and only stereotypical barbie. the perfect one, the main bitch of barbieland acknowledging your presence.

conversations between the two of you were very scarce. with you having a very busy work life and her having none at all, you never crossed paths that much. but living right across from her was a given, so conversations at times were necessary.

brushing off the nervous feeling that had crept up on you, you silently scolded yourself for the rosy blush that had quickly painted your cheeks. once again, clutching your purse tighter, you resumed your journey to your apartment in the lively dreamhouse.

the scratched door creaked open as you released your grip on the plastic doorknob. in any other room you can pretty much expect bright pinks and yellows and lovely colors..but not yours. in fact it wasn't the case at all.

black scribble lines all over formerly hot pink walls, torn up grey bed sheets, deflated pillows, a bedside rug that was once a lovely shade of baby blue now a murky lake green, and scratches, whoever was messing with this room had a no sense for care, as this room, this room was desecrated with scratches and marks.

sighing, you flopped unto the creaky mattress, the back of your knees hitting the plastic bed structure. reaching over to your achy feet, you pulled off the black heels that had been causing you anguish the whole day.

dropping your heels, you unzipped your pale pink silk dress, one of the very rare bright pieces of clothing you had left. flinging it over to the other side of the room, you tapped over to your closet, the once shiny, luxurious white structure, scribbled on and vandalised; stripped of its pride. you looked through the distressed drawer that had been left open from the mornings' rush. music flooded into the silence of your room as picked out navy blue pyjama bottoms and a tight fitted white tank top.

as if by magic (no pun intended) , your desired clothing adorned your slim body as you strolled over to your bed, plopping yourself on it and sinking into the mattress.

thoughts clouded your mind like a raging storm, keeping you a prisoner of your own mind. weird barbie said this would happen a lot more so it shouldn't have been unexpected. but it still hit you like a brick every time the thought of stereotypical barbie flooded your head. her plump lips, the crystal blue eyes that locked you in a trance at the slightest glance and her hair, oh god her hair. you just wanted to run your fingers through the golden curls. you wanted to tangle your fingers in it, you wanted to ruin it, you hated how perfect it was.

you hated her. you hated how ken adored her, how everyone was so goddamn drawn to her, it was like the town revolved around her jobless ass. you wanted her. you needed her. you needed her to need you. but you had your ken and she had hers, and that was that.

the last person who uttered a word about a barbie and a barbie or a ken and a ken was weird barbie and look how she turned out. it's not like you weren't weird yourself, with your heels dropping, thoughts about death, uncanny interests in barbie , your burnt waffles and messed up room and messed up clothes, you were borderline line outcast. you just hadn't been sent to the weird house yet.

'it's only a matter of time though'. you thought shutting your eyes. the late nights and early mornings catching up to you.

it only seemed like a few minutes before you felt the opposite side of your bed sink and a warm hand on your icy shoulder. shrieking, you leaped into an upright position, very nearly hitting your head on your heart shaped headboard.

"jesus! what the hell.." you came to an abrupt stop as you looked over to your side meeting a very dear set of eyes. "look, i'm sorry for barging in so randomly, i know you were sleeping and you're a very busy woman and-" the words mushed together in your head as you focused on her pouty lips. you would let her talk for hours on end if it meant seeing those lips move.

"it's okay." you stated, the corners of your lips turning up. "really? i mean i could leave honestly! it's no biggie..i mean if you want me stay i could?" the icy blonde rambled meeting your gaze softly. "i promise your fine." you assured her shuffling a bit, suddenly feeling very naked.

"so why are you here?" you questioned, sinking back into the comfort of your duvet. dropping your gaze, she fiddled with her velvet night gown, undoing the strings and redoing them. "..well i don't know, you looked more down than usual and you at least make it to the nail painting sessions in my room, but today you missed the whole night altogether." barbie confessed, searching your y/e/c eyes for reasons.

"i know, but-" "you promised." she stated, cutting your flimsy excuse short. "i'm sorry. i've just- i've had some things on my mind as of recent." you explained, your eyes looking at barbies' room across from yours.

“ what type of thoughts?” you raised your eyebrow at her answering her question silently. “right. too far… sorry.” she blushed, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears. an uncomfortable silence filled the room as barbie crossed her legs, moving dangerously close to you.

clearing your throat, you glanced at her figure, letting the image cloud your senses. the curve of her hips to the sharp cut of her jawline, she really was the perfect barbie.

“i have thoughts about death too.” barbie whispered. you didn’t reply so she continued “all the time actually. they’re more frequent than they used to be. i thought maybe someone felt the same way as me so i shared it during the dance party downstairs, but, they just looked at me like i was.. weird.”

your heart rate tripled as you gazed up at her. she looked so.. vulnerable. all this time you had thought you were alone in this paradise. you thought of yourself as the elephant in the room. but there was a chance that the one person you thought was perfect, was just as fucked up as you.

“i’m so sorry, i’m gonna leave now-” “stay.” you muttered connecting your eyes with hers. “what?” the blonde asked, a bewildered look on her face. “i think about death too. maybe we have more in common than we thought.” you explained, running your fingers through your y/h/c haphazardly layered hair.

grinning immediately barbie sat back down, babbling instantly. and you did what anyone would do if they were in that same situation, you stared at her with hearts in your eyes, smiling broadly.

only mattel knew how you ended up sprawled across your bed with barbie straddling your lap, braiding chunks of your hair. who knew depressive thoughts could bond two dolls like this?

“your eyes are so pretty.” you murmured gazing up into her ocean blues. blushing she retorted : “oh shut up.” , but you could tell from her scarlet cheeks and darting eyes that she appreciated the compliment.

“can i kiss you?” you blurted, not being able to hold yourself back. barbie stared at you, her eyes glistening. preparing yourself for rejection you opened your mouth only to have it shut by pillowy lips.

stars behind your eyelids, in fact a whole constellation. gliding your fingers up the small of her back, you reciprocated the kiss as she cupped your face softly. biting your bottom lip, she explored your mouth slowly. sucking on your tongue, she extracted a well deserved moan out of you.

“fuck y/n” she groaned, grinding on you. moaning desperately, you fervently moved your hands around her body as she pulled away. breathing heavily you both stared at each other lovingly. “the others will hear..” she commented, returning to fiddling with your hair. agreeing, you smirked as she looked at your lips.

“i better go then. i don’t want you tired tomorrow, busy work life and all.” the blonde remarked as she slowly stood up. “mhm” you retorted, as you let your eyes wander all over her body.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, sleep well okay?” she stated, looking over at you as she got to the door. “i will.” you grinned, snuggling into your comforter. and at that she giggled as she closed your door, the echo of her voice promising you of better days. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🩰 ꒱ ˎˊ˗

[unkat]

I have more

senshi is the guy whos been there forever and has great patience, teaching skills, and is good at reading people. a little bit of a 'power behind the throne' where he was actually laios' mentor back when he was new, and now their relationship is as friends.

he is trained in fire and medical. chilchuck is only medical (med only calls are more common than fire) so they run a lot of medical-only calls with just the two of them and a backup crew.

they put chilchuck with him when he was first transferred because of the bad rumors around his behavior until senshi vouches for him being a decent fellow.

he likes to cook dinners and is in team under 6'0" but has been around for so long and is so built that nobody would question him on it.

chilchuck definitely fire carries someone (tallest guy on the squad? laios?) over his shoulders to demonstrate his own ability to lift. as short guys, technique is much more important than raw strength, so they actually end up being able to accomplish more than some of the young guys when space is limited

they are smoking buddies too, because it was so common back when they started, vs younger guys who would only start because of peer pressure. "Want a smoke? No? Good, keep it that way."

senshi gets attached to chilchuck as a partner and for the first time when setting up trucks does he request to stay with someone rather than offer to train the new recruit.

the two of them pose for a fundraising calendar together. laios keeps the picture. (there is a big group shot from that day with everyone soaked from "washing the trucks" and laios has his arm hooked around chilchuck's neck while chil is grabbing his waist, grinning half at the camera and half at each other. its from before they even realize they had feelings for the other.)

falin went to school out here because laios moved out here after dipping right after high school. she and marcille were close in undergrad but marcille went to a big name school while falin came out here. they live together now, because they are the bestest girls who are friends and love each other so much they don't mind sharing the bed every night.

laios has a motorcycle that chilchuck judges him for but still sits on the back when he goes for a ride. he also has a leather jacket and jeans combo that kills chil whenever they go out to a bar together. chilchuck himself is sexy in a rough around-the-edge mature man way that is so fixable if he just got in the right environment and boned, so he also gets his fair share of admirers.

and they do try to wingman each other at the gay bar but keep getting jealous of whoever the other is talking to so it doesn't work out very well. they both keep scaring away anyone who flirts with the other on accident and end up just sitting together and talking after the first thirty minutes, commenting on the slow night.

chilaios medical au idea i have been bouncing in my head (will not be written until after my current one is done)

i am thinking of a like firefighter/paramedic story for these guys. where laios is a new shift commander/chief at a small middle of nowhere station and chilchuck is a medic from a big city who keeps getting reassigned because he is trying to recruit for a union and the company is trying to make his job unworkable/find a reason to let him go.

laios was promoted because of his work ethic and ability to teach other people about the ins and outs of emergency medicine, not because he wanted to be in charge. he is too new and disinterested in the company politics to throw him under the bus for other people, and by the time someone explicitly says he needs to fire him, he has gotten attached.

"he's reliable, does good work, and catches things nobody else here would have. i know he cussed out the family trying to get into the rig, but he had already told them no and they should be grateful he saved their daughter instead of filing a complaint! even if i were to discipline, he deserves a verbal warning and not dismissal. You were not there, and i am his direct superior."

(wins the argument and walks away trying not to hyperventilate)

also falin is a surgeon and marcille is a research fellow who abandoned her big-city super-focused projects to come out into the country and work with subpar equipment and an incompetent assistant. im not thinking like full rural hospital here, but closeish to it. could be an academic satellite hospital and she switched from like gene therapy trials to studying exposures/population/histology stuff.

shifting the touden hyperfixation from monsters->medical fascination i think would still get across the same vibes. falin is very nice and pleasant but she treats everyone nicely and pleasantly without actually empathizing with them. shes one of those surgeons who went to shadow a heart transplant in college and cried because it was so beautiful and then got a bunch of scholarships plus student loans for med school.

laios hunts and has a big appreciation for the lives of things he kills and butchering/using everything he can. then it translates to him being fascinated by the human body as an object more than as a being that is different and special from other animals that he is a part of. he is a fantastic emergency responder because of this- people are a pile of flesh that is broken somewhere, and he wants to figure out why. (this is something that I'm like. not sure if it is okay for me to include because it can be squicky/triggering. but i feel like when I'm unsure if I'm going too far that is when i am reaching the line i want to?)

the touden siblings still go hiking and mudding and spend their time off in the woods (marcille wears white shorts and sandels on a hike leaving laios to be very explicit and offering clothes to chilchuck when he offers him to join. chilchuck borrows his shirt and it is way too big, but he keeps it for a while.)

chilchuck is extra divorced. he facetimes with the girls a couple of times a week and gets them on rotating holidays. sometimes ex-mrs. tims invites him over for dinner because she feels sorry for him and her new boyfriend is also there. it's awkward but they both know he's harmless, just annoying and closed off. he smokes but has tried to quit 7-8 times. started when he was an emt and couldn't shake it because it helped him destress. he only knows how to drive well enough to pass his vehicle license renewals and still doesn't know what the buttons in his car do. the ac has been "broken" for a week before a station mechanic pushes the button to turn it back on (they should put a subway around here, stupid cars).

laios respects his experience and history of being at a constantly busy station that saw a variety of crazy shit. chilchuck initially resents him for being so out of touch, but grows to respect his leadership abilities. laios also always follows up on cases at the hospital to figure out the outcome and reflect on best practices.

he is the first person to get chilchuck to actually debrief after a shitty call and chil cries and never wants to talk about it again. but its like a seal in a dam has been breached, and opens up when they are cuddling on the couch. they spend more time off shift with each other. chilchuck crashes on laios' couch and initially feels like he needs excuses to do it until laios says he really likes talking with him and having him there. he tells him about the company's EAP coverage and that he encourages everyone to take advantage of it.

in the end, they hit that threshold of basically living together, and one of them would need to change their station (superior/employee romance) after they go from making out off shift in secret to seriously considering having laios meet his daughters in person. (they already think they're married because laios is always there when they call now)

[jupitermelichios]

Hey, we need to talk about the way Batfamily fans write Cass using ASL, because a lot of it is really fucking ableist

But Cass can't speak, of course she needs to sign!

Not true! There is nothing physically wrong with Cass's vocal chords or mouth, there's nothing in her brain stopping her from making sounds, and she is not an elective mute. She actually learns to speak individual words really quickly after she puts herself into an environment where that's a useful skill. Basil teaches her to quote huge chunks of Shakespeare in Nu52, and that's easier for her than forming simple sentences. That would definitely not be the case if she had any physical limitations on her speech.

Cass's disability is that she was not taught any language, and so she is having to grok the entire concept of language from the ground up. Grammar and syntax; tonality; how to combine words to convey more complex ideas; how putting two words next to one another can change their meaning; how to break down a whole idea into the individual parts needed to turn it into words; the fact that people's words might not line up with their tone and body language so you have to pay attention to both; how to tell if someone wants a response or is stating a fact; how to work out meaning from context if a word is new or someone has an unfamiliar accent; how to know if someone is using a new word or if they actually just have an unfamilar accent and all the ways words can be bent and changed before they become something new; the fact that two words can use the same sounds but have the same meaning; the fact that there can be two different words that mean the same thing. This is all stuff she didn't learn as a baby, and not knowing it would be just as much an impediment to learning ASL as learning English (for accent, swap out things like having limited movement in their hands, or having learned slightly different forms of the same sign, using a lot of home-signs etc, it's the same concept in a different medium).

There is no language on earth Cass wouldn't have these problems with. ASL is not any kind of shortcut.

But she reads body language, and ASL is kind of like body language right?

Not true, also pretty abelist! Just as the sounds which make up spoken language are essentially arbitrary (there's no objective reason why the sound "gud" should mean good, English speakers just all agree it does) so most of the signs in ASL are arbitrary! There's no reason for

to mean good. ASL users just all agree that it does. Cass knowing body language would not help her any more with ASL than it would with English, and if anything, it might make it harder, because sign uses the whole body and therefore changes the way people use body language so unless she saw a lot of ASL users as a child (and there's no particular reason to think she did), she would have to adjust what she knows about body language to account for those differences!

But she signs in the comics!

Nope! She uses hand gestures to communicate sometimes, but that's not signing. Pointing at food and miming eating to convey hunger is not sign. Pretending to punch someone and pulling it at the last second to convey you could hurt them but won't (Cass's actual first communication with Bruce in the comics) isn't signing. I've done the point and mime thing in countries where I didn't speak the language, that does not mean I knew that country's native sign language!

But she learns ballet, that's like a physical language, so sign is the same thing!

Nope! Also low key kinda abelist. Dance is a method of communication, but it isn't a full language. There's almost no grammar or sentence structure, the vocabulary is extremely limited, and also you can just make up new dance moves or use moves from different styles of dance together and still convey your meaning (you cannot just make random gestures or use BSL and expect ASL users to understand you, because they're full complex languages). Cass vibes with dance pretty hard, but that's precisely because it isn't a language, it doesn't require any of the skills she struggles with in order to communicate emotion.

But ASL isn't like a real language, it's not as complex or nuanced as spoken English so it would be easier for her to learn

That is so fucking gross I don't even want to have this conversation with you. Go and sit in the timeout box and think about what you've just said, and then commit to doing better.

But I just think that once she learned it, she'd like using ASL because [it's very expressive/she's used to her world being very quiet/she can use it on stealth missions more easily/etc]

Valid, understandable, have a lovely day

But I'm writing an AU were she uses ASL because her backstory is too comic-book-y to fit in no-capes AUs but I didn't want to erase her communication difficulties so I've written her as having a different disability

Cool. Send me a link when you're done.

But what if I write her using makatong?

(For context, makatong is a form of sign developed for people who have intellectual or phsyical disabilities that affect language use, which uses more descriptive signs which require less precise hand possitioning than other sign languages, and which has very simple grammar, making it easier to learn than ASL). Yes this would be easier for her, because it's intended for people with similar difficulties to hers, but since her difficulties stem purely from a lack of experience which can be (and are, in canon) overcome with practise, it would be kind of needlessly limiting compared to her just starting out with very simple spoken language, and wouldn't give her as many chances to develop those language learning skills. Makatong is also not mutually intelligable with any other sign language, so she couldn't easily transition from that to ASL once she got used to signing, she'd have to start learning it from scratch.

But I HC her as deaf

There is 0 comics evidence to support that, but it's a headcanon, so who cares. You do you. Have fun.

But learning sign language would be better than learning to speak anyway because it's a universal language!

That is not even slightly how it work. Go read the wikipedia article on sign languages around the world or something. Do some research.

TL:DR; Cass does not use ASL in the comics, and nothing about her disability or sign languages in general would make learning ASL easier or more convinent for her than spoken English. That does't mean writing her signing is inherently bad, but you should examine your reasons for doing it to ensure you're not just perpetuating ableist stereotypes about the language.

[olderthannetfic]

This is a stupid question and might be too personal but I wonder if you or others have thoughts on this. Is it generally hard to combine having a job, children and continuing to be bit of a "weird nerd"? How to find rolemodels and people to vibe with and is there time for fixating on the things (obviously staying up reading fanfic until 3am before morning shifts or painting warcraft miniatures 60+ hours per week is probably not advisable anymore but you know). Is the difference actually like night and day or what is it like?

--

A huge, huge, huge amount depends on whether your partner is actually supportive, if you have one, and what kind of work you're trying to return to after having a kid.

Tons of weird nerds just cart their kids along to their D&D sessions or whatever. There's nothing odd about that.

The bigger problems arise when you're economically marginal and don't have adequate childcare or when you have a manchild spouse who not only doesn't do half the work but becomes baby #2.

In my particular case, it took me most of the first year to get my brain back in a space where I could work on creative writing. (Sorry, people who are waiting for book 3. It's coming! It's coming!) But I'm lucky enough to not be facing a lot of money troubles, and I don't have a partner to worry about. This makes my situation night and day from one where you're trying to figure out how to both pay the rent and do all your own childcare.

Chronic sleep deprivation is probably the biggest issue when it comes to being able to enjoy things or carve out time for hobbies.

In general, reading on a kindle or phone (which you can do one-handed and on an object that is somewhat less vulnerable to drool and grabbing fingers) is a great hobby to combine with dealing with little monsters. Breast feeding is boring and takes a hell of a lot of my day.

--

I don't think the weird nerd aspect is significant at all unless you feel inhibited about not being a normie parent. (Personally, I already dress my kid like a fucking elf all in green and shit like that and have no qualms about telling someone where to stick it if they think she should wear pink.)

But the more caretaker-y parent often ends up so sleep deprived and miserable from lack of emotional/financial support that their whole life goes to hell, whether their hobbies are "weird" or otherwise.

And even if there are two or more supportive team players raising the kid, money troubles breed like tribbles once you spawn.

If you live in the US (which you might since you didn't think to say), there isn't much structural support, but you can fix that with money. So, anon, how much money have you got?

[level2janitor]

tactiquest structure

Edit: Play tactiquest here!

so i've posted a lot about tactiquest's classes and monsters and everything on here but i haven't really talked about the non-combat subsystems much yet and i wanted to go into detail about them, bc tactiquest has very different goals from most heroic fantasy systems.

tracking inventory, travel time, worrying about actually running out of your adventuring budget, are things a lot of big-damn-heroes fantasy systems throw out because they're just paperwork that gets in the way of your cool fights. that's not the case in Tactiquest! these systems are so core to the experience that removing them will make a lot of classes unusable. the game is built around them.

travel & exploration

tactiquest explicitly assumes you're running an open-sandbox hexcrawl and is designed to support that, including the fact the game is designed around random encounters. this is the sort of thing D&D 3e expected you to do, but people ditched random encounters because they thought they were boring and tedious. so classes balanced around that attrition of resources ended up with a huge spike in power other classes couldn't match.

the boring-and-tedious problem is mostly addressed by trying to make combat really good and resolve really fast. if i fucked that up the whole thing falls apart, but so far people are liking it

the second thing that helps with random encounters is your resources don't fully restore immediately at the end of each day like they do in 3e. resting is less effective in the wilderness and resources expended are a tomorrow problem, not just a today problem. so you don't have to have 3+ fights every single day just to maintain parity - 0-2 fights per day still adds up to difficult resource management.

because the game has such a focus on it, you can have classes like the ranger actually be good at travel and exploration instead of just giving them vaguely-naturey combat abilities.

economy

in most D&D-likes, even usually OSR ones, you accrue so much gold. just as a side effect of adventuring. to the point money no longer actually matters because you can throw piles of it at any problem. this is bad. it's a system that defeats its own purpose; there are no interesting choices involving money when you have so much the only real expense is like, 50,000-gold-piece magic items.

i don't just want players to care about money, i want them to worry about money, like a normal person. you're not batman who's a billionaire as a side hobby, you're spiderman who has to deliver pizzas in between superhero work because he's got bills to pay like everyone else. so a whole lot of effort has been put into actually designing prices and treasure amounts around this dynamic.

i also hate how games will usually go "oh adventuring gives you 900,000 gold for existing but a normal person's living wage is 2 gold a month". i don't want to be fantasy jeff bezos, thanks

inventory

this is something i just lifted from OSR games outright. you can carry ten things (and tiny things don't take up an item slot). that's the whole rule.

tracking inventory can add a lot of interesting decisions to a game and adds a new lever for abilities from classes and magic items. having a character play the merchant class which gets a bunch of extra inventory slots feels really impactful. finding a bag of holding that doubles your carry capacity feels so good when you actually have to watch your inventory.

supply

the only thing i felt was really unenjoyable when running games with strict inventory limits was tracking rations for each character that you eat every night; it felt too much like busywork with not enough payoff. so in Tactiquest rations are abstracted into a single Supply stat that's tied to the party rather than any individual character.

you can only restock Supply in towns, and it drops by 1 each time you rest. you can sleep without resting and this won't cost supply, but you won't regain any HP or other resources. this gives you the impactful decision-making of tracking rations without the annoyance of "okay it's been a day of travel, everyone make sure you dock a ration from your sheet" like twice per session

Supply is one of the things that slowly drains your funds and gives you a reason to keep seeking out treasure, tying back into the economy. it also gives merchants and rangers some extra mechanical levers for their class abilities to pull on.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Something I find interesting when viewing the two recent Dune movies as a whole is that initially, Paul is more than willing to use the prophecy and his visions for his own gain to convince Liet to help them, while Jessica whispers "careful!" at his side, and she later recommends they leave the planet entirely. But Paul decides they'll stay with the Fremen. Even at the beginning of Part 2, Paul is like "fuck yeah let's wage war on the Harkonnen" and Jessica is again counseling caution: "your father didn't believe in revenge." She goes through the Water of Life ceremony not because she wants to help Paul fulfill the prophecy but because she's forced to: do this or die. And even then, the old Reverend Mother had to use the Voice on her to get Jessica to drink.

That all changes when Jessica nearly dies during the ceremony. After that, Paul becomes more wary of embracing the prophecy, and she just throws herself into it. Paul nearly loses his mother (and his unborn sister) to a painful, agonizing poison - mere hours/days after losing his father and all their friends/allies to the Harkonnen slaughter - and decides it's not worth it. Meanwhile, Jessica gets a direct download of memories of millennia of oppression and goes "yeah let's burn everything to the ground."

It's an interesting, quick reversal at the beginning of the second movie, and it's great.

Ooh thank you for this great ask. I can always count on you for smart and thoughtful Jessica takes!

You make a really good observation about their reversal of positions--I had been struggling to figure out how Paul's line about "I must sway the non-believers" fit into his overall arc, but you are absolutely right that this feels like a continuation of how he talks to Liet. We're seeing the first stirrings of that little "maybe I am special" thought that later takes center stage.

For most of Part Two, Paul has several reliable counterweights pulling against that streak of arrogance and high-handedness that he's had from the beginning. Jessica almost dies drinking the Water of Life, which, like you point out, has got to make him think twice about encouraging people to believe in the prophecy. Then, he spends most of the movie surrounded by Chani and her friends and comrades, who seem the most skeptical of the prophecy and also aren't going to give his ego the time of day. And at the same time, he has an opportunity to pour his desire for revenge into collective political action that seems to be making a difference.

It's only when those countervailing forces start collapsing (the people who had started out as his equals are now becoming his followers; the Harkonnens attack Sietch Tabr and other civilian population centers, proving they are far from militarily defeated; Gurney shows up and immediately offers what seems like an easy solution to their problems that only Paul can access) that the little maybe I am special voice starts winning again.

As for Jessica, her journey doesn't get as much focus in the movie but it's also fascinating. She's a great character because she is so fucking smart at navigating power structures from what seems like an unenviable position. Did she have any choice about being sent to Caladan to become Leto's concubine? I am guessing she did not. But she sure figured out how to work that situation to her advantage. It happened that along the way she and Leto came to genuinely love and respect each other. But I'm sure she would still have figured out an angle even if that had not been the case.

In Part Two she starts out in a frankly quite terrifying position: she can undergo this unknown, dangerous ritual or die, and also possibly put Paul's safety at risk by raising doubt about whether he is the Lisan al-Gaib. But after she survives the Water of Life, she is launched into a powerful position in Fremen society and pretty quickly realizes she can use that to both protect Paul and get her revenge on the people who tried to kill her whole family. And unlike Paul, she is much more cognizant of the intergalactic power structures at work and aware that the Harkonnens themselves were a pawn in all this, so her target is the Bene Gesserit and the emperor.

I would have loved more time to explore Jessica's relationship to Fremen society and her POV in general. Because in some ways she becomes as Fremen as it's possible for her to be--she has access to thousands of years of memories of Fremen history and culture and politics; she becomes instantly fluent in the language and she is immersed in Fremen daily life in the sietch. (If there's one single thing I wanted more of, it was daily life in the sietch.) But she's still the same person she was, so she hasn't lost that ability to be ruthless and calculating and see people as forces to be manipulated. In Part One, her love for Paul and Leto provided an interesting counterweight to this that allowed us to see some moments of vulnerability from her (ie. she knows Paul has to undergo the Gom Jabbar test but she's terrified for him while it's happening). In Part Two she is so isolated for most of the movie (away from Paul; surrounded by followers who were never friends; I think we can all agree that talking to your unborn fetus doesn't really count) that we don't get a lot of these more unguarded moments from her. (I would have loved some Jessica/Stilgar action and it seems like the potential was very much set up for that, but I understand why they didn't have time.)

But in general I thought they did a great job of setting up this contradictory tension between Jessica and Paul, where they both want so desperately to protect each other and they both want revenge, but the way they each go about it ends up putting them in direct conflict with each other.

[55sturn]

✮ BACK TO YOU

pairings: chris sturniolo x fem!oc, reader x unnamed male!oc, chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: in which no matter where they are in life, chris and y/n find their way back to one another, despite knowing that it never really works, until day he gives in and stops fighting what he knows is meant to be.

warnings: swearing, angst (a whole lot of it), verbal arguments, chris and y/n are toxic, implications of chris cheating, fluff if you squint, suggestive implications.

THIRD PERSON POV

in every culture and every religion, there is some sort of evidence of soulmates existing. the person your soul is forever tied to, setting you up for heartbreak along the journey looking for that one person. love is at the root of the structure of every belief system. the person that has been so perfectly tailored to your heart and soul, meant to love you in the ways you spend your life searching for.

look up: invisible string by taylor swift, for a beautiful depiction of a soulmate inspired love song.

the only issue with having a soulmate, is that nine out of ten times, you don't know who your soulmate is. which often leads to you spend hours upon hours and years upon years searching for them, inevitably experiencing various stages and forms of heartbreak in hopes that once you do find your soulmate, your forever person, they are able to heal and fix you.

but in chris and y/n's love story, them healing each other wasn't always the case. they were the fairytale from hell, they were a wrongful depiction of soulmates, two souls tethered together by an invisible red string that who, instead of loving each other, had a tendency to tears each other's hearts into millions of pieces each time they tried to love one another.

they were two souls so delicately similar that it caused them nothing but pain and frustration. they loved one another in the wrong ways, but they were determined to make it work, albeit at the wrong times.

PRESENT TIME

chris sighed as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, with a quick roll of his eyes, he fished the thin device out of his pocket, knowing full well who was texting him as he made his rounds through the crowd of friends and acquaintances at the party he attended.

groaning, her named flashed again in his notifications, he hovered his thumb over the text before pressing down, begrudgingly opening the conversation he had wished hadn't started, despite deep down wanting her to reach out to him.

IMESSAGE TEXTS BETWEEN CHRIS AND Y/N

Y/N: guess u forgot to tell me that u and ur new bitch of the week would be here🤣

CHRIS: don't start tonight y/n

Y/N: i'm just shocked is all, didn’t think she’d fuck with these ppl just by looking at her

CHRIS: "she" has a name, y/n

CHRIS: it’s gianna

Y/N: you act like i give a fuck

Y/N: it’s nice to see you tho

CHRIS: please y/n, aren’t you tired of this shit?

CHRIS: you and i don't work, we literally never fucking do

CHRIS: and i really like this girl

Y/N: if you genuinely mean that, why are you spending so much time explaining it to me? sounds like you’re just tryna convince yourself that you feel that way.

Y/N: but if it’s real, then i'm happy for you, it's just weird that you and i aren't here together.

chris rolled his eyes at her second to last text, the way she could see right through like he was made of glass, even through a text, was something he’d never be able to understand. or run away from. there was never any sense in him even trying to lie to her, she could read him like a book. and chris was her favourite book, she would read that book ten times over in one sitting if she could.

but chris willed up all the self control he had in his entire being to not seek out the girl he's loved since he was a tiny boy in middle school. he told himself that it was done for good. that's the thing with playground love, it doesn't always last for ever and ever and chris was finally starting to accept that.

he pocketed his phone and forced himself to look for gianna, his eyes briefly meeting y/n's as she spoke to some random influencer, the smile on her face not reaching her eyes as she focused on the boy in front of her. he soon spotted the girl he arrived with, her hand flirtatiously resting on vinnie's bicep as he spoke to her. with a less than enthusiastic scoff, he downed the rest of the drink in his cup and turned around, walking in the opposite direction toward the girl he called home.

once he was in earshot, he smirked to himself as she pawned her cup off onto the poor boy fighting for a chance with her in front of him. once she waved him off with a bittersweet smile, she turned back to chris. she tutted playfully as he rolled his eyes, her hand reaching up toward the back of his neck, pulling him flush against the front of her body.

"what happened to "i really like her"?" she chuckled, her arms wrapping around his neck as his hands fell to her waist, pulling her into a hug, his lips meeting her jaw as he sighed.

"vinnie got to her and she was all over him." he spoke against her skin as her nails gently scraped against his scalp, bringing him down from his emotional high as his shoulders slumped in her arms.

"wanna get out of here? go for a walk?"

"nah, m'tired and just wanna go to bed, you crashing at mine?"

"of course." she spoke, her hand slipping into his as they walked toward the door, nick and matt meeting them there soon after chris texted them, neither of them surprised to find chris leaving with y/n instead of his girlfriend.

"i'm so happy you're here y/n, chris is a different man when you're not around." nick snorted, climbing into the seat behind matt as y/n sat behind chris, his hand slipping between the two front seats as her fingers threaded through his again.

"i'm glad to be back for however long chris needs me to be." she whispered, her words cutting deep into chris' heart, knowing that she wouldn't be around permanently, their dynamic and ways of communicating only allowing them to be together for a short period of time. they’d spend most their days tangled in chris’ sheets, professing their undying love for one another, knowing very well their time would be ending once again, and that it’d end soon.

they found that while they loved each other so deeply, they showed it in all the wrong ways. instead of gentle and soft spoken words, their love for one another was reminded in the clashing of teeth and tongues during heavy make-outs, and wandering hands with their nails digging into the soft flesh they roamed.

their rekindled romance was once again called off when chris' girlfriend, gianna, had come back into his life a week later, apologizing for her behaviour and explaining that she had been a fan of vinnie's for a long time and the fan girl in her caused her to make questionable decisions.

with a meek smile and a backhanded comment about chris’ infidelity, y/n packed her bags and moved out of chris' room sadly bidding matt and nick a brief "see you later", which left them sighing as they were no stranger to watching y/n move in and out of the house a couple times every few months.

it wasn't long before chris had found himself missing the girl that knew him inside and out, that knew his heart like the back of her hand. a month after gianna came back, spewing excuses upon excuses, chris had broken up with her, claiming that his heart would forever belong to someone else and he couldn't bear to put her through the pain of not loving her the way she deserved to be.

chris knew that he should take this grace period and be alone instead of running back to the girl he always did, but he knew she was it for him, no matter what. he didn't understand why they couldn't love each other properly. he always looked at it in a way where they had too much love for one another and they just didn't know what to do with it.

he tossed and turned in his bed, his thoughts unrelenting and holding his ability to sleep hostage as his phone read 3:32 in the morning. groaning he unlocked his phone, his thumbs maneuvering their way to her conversation from muscle memory at this point before typing out a quick couple messages.

IMESSAGE TEXTS BETWEEN CHRIS AND Y/N

CHRIS: y/n come home

CHRIS: please

CHRIS: i cant sleep without you

CHRIS: i love you in a way that makes it hard to love anybody else

CHRIS: you are like a drug that i cant go without, you're deadass my soulmate bruh and i'm done denying that. you are the only person i want. the only that actually knows who i am, inside and out. the only person that can make me feel good the way you do. i want you. no more fighting it. we’re meant to be.

Y/N: i'll be there in 10.

every time y/n fell back into chris’ arms, it felt devastating and bittersweet. this time, it felt right. it felt like they had finally found solid ground and that the had found the way they were meant to be together. there was definitely some uncertainty about the longevity of their relationship overall, but they learned over time that they need to communicate. whether they stayed together or not for the final time, there was no doubt that they would always be intertwined in each other’s hearts.

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Assistance

Bud Cooper x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 17: Frottage

Summary: You run into Bud in a storage room.

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for beating and saving me as always!

Warnings: Swearing, grinding, coming in pants, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 852

You tut, swearing under your breath as you look for the damn file. 

This whole storage room needed a complete resort and structure, because now all that was happening was files being flung anywhere with absolutely no system or structure at all. And there was no way to find fucking anything. 

Mr. Peterson needed the Samson case file, he had needed it a good twenty minutes ago. Luckily, he was a nice guy. Late fifties, had been in the insurance business for a long time. He knew how bad the storage room was and had given you an apologetic smile when he’d asked. You definitely had a stroke of good luck when you’d started and been assigned the personal assistant to him. 

The door to the cramped room opens and you turn your head, expecting to greet one of the other assistants who had been sent on a fool's errand. 

But instead you see Bud. 

“Hello, Mr. Cooper.” You manage to say it completely calmly and professionally. 

He grins, wolfish as he steps inside and closes the door. “Good morning.” He nods his head to you as he walks around, pretending to look for a file. 

He comes to a stop right behind you, purposefully just pressing his chest against your back. He leans forward, pushing you closer to the shelves. “Oh, sorry, my file is right there.” He mutters in your ear, his voice low and thick.

You give him a glare. “It fucking is not.” 

Bud snorts, pressing his mouth against your neck. “I’m trying to seduce you here.” 

You bite back a laugh. “Try harder then.” 

He kisses your jaw and cheek, one hand on your hip as he gently turns you around to face him. “Why didn’t you let me drive you in this morning?” He smiles.

“I wanted to get in early.” You lie.

“Liar.”

Fuck him. But you smile. “I didn’t want you to drive me in.” 

He nods, “You didn’t want people to see.”

“People talk.”

“So let them.” 

You pull a face. “It’s easier for you, no one’ll care that you’re fucking an assistant. I’ll get all the spite for sleeping over at a guy’s house I’m not married to.” 

“Let’s get married then,” Bud says simply.

You playfully wack his arm and he grins. 

“What? You turning me down?” He pretends to pout as he moves closer, pressing his body against yours. 

“You’re terrible.”

“You love it.” He gives you a soft kiss as he gently presses one leg between yours. 

“Bud…”

“Hmm?” He gives you an innocent look as he moves his other leg between yours as well, both of his hands rubbing your hips. 

“I’m not going to fuck you in the storage room.” You try to inject some strictness into your voice, but your amusement is all too clear. 

“I’m not trying to fuck you baby…” He gives you the sweetest smile. “I’m gonna make you come though.” 

He rocks his hips forward languidly, grinding his hard cock against your core. You gasp, grabbing hold of his biceps as he moves and mouths at your neck. 

You bite your lip, trying not to whine as he presses wonderfully. “You get horny a lot at work, huh?” You tease.

“Oh, I’ve been rock hard since I woke up in an empty bed this morning.” He groans in your ear. “Which is someone’s fault, isn’t it?” He moves particularly slowly, teasing you perfectly with his pulsing length and hooks his hand under your left knee to hike your leg onto his hip.

“Your own.” You manage to stammer out.

He pokes out his bottom lip, giving you a look before he leans forward and licks into your mouth. 

You move with him, sucking on his tongue as he rocks and grinds. His little pants build, his fingers digging into your sides as you both build in a delicious rhythm. 

His heavy cock rubs perfectly against your clit, he knows your body like second nature now, knows how to hurtle you towards completion. There’s not enough time here to truly take you apart slowly, like he wants. 

You whine, gasping against his lips as he squeezes your breast lightly, pinching your nipple and groaning at your reaction. His eyes are lidded, hazy, his mouth parted as if he were trying to swallow down your sounds. 

Another roll of his hips is all it takes and you’re coming hard. The sensation robs you of thought as pleasure is pulled from your bones expertly and with little of your say in the matter. 

You just about manage to bite back your moans as Bud kisses you messily, using your lips to muffle his own cries of pleasure as he comes in his pants. 

He breathes hard and then laughs. “Shit.” 

“What?” You grin.

“I wasn’t planning on… you know… finishing myself.” 

You snort. “You made a mess huh?” 

He nods, pressing his forehead to yours. “Yeah.”

“Well,” you disentangle yourself from his arms and drop down to your knees, looking up at him with your hands on his fly. “Let me help you with that?” 

Thank you for reading!

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[roanniom]

I adored smartest! Scratched an itch I didn’t know I had for Steve. Can’t stop thinking of him seeing someone trying to flirt with his tutor and getting possessive and dragging her down the nearest dark alley to prove no one could make her dumb like he can.

Smartest - Part 2

King!Steve Harrington x tutor!fem!reader

Read Part 1

Warning: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, mutual masturbation, semi public sex / PIV sex / unprotected sex, teasing, power dynamics, King!Steve is a dick and is his own warning (but goes through angst here???)

Steve isn’t really sure what he assumed would happen after he’d been hooking up with his tutor for a while. There had been absolutely no forethought to the initial act, and the fact that you had been into him enough to let him keep fucking you during each session - well Steve Harrington isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, of course.

But he certainly hadn’t anticipated how the attention would affect how you carry yourself. In the halls. In class. In the stands during pep rallies. Walking through the diner or at the movies. Whenever Steve sees you out and about in Hawkins now, he can’t help but blink and do a double take.

You stand up straighter. You smile brighter. You make eye contact with the people around you. Your clothes are a little more relaxed, opting for flouncier skirts and fun tops rather than cardigans and your usual buttoned up, structured dresses.

To Steve, of course, the change seems motivated by him. And, to be fair, he was sort of the catalyst. He couldn’t possibly know that really you’ve started to come into your own, not because of Steve’s attention itself, but because of the way it allowed you to dismiss the fears you’d had of your own undesirability. The King of Hawkins High wanted you. You’re pretty sure it’s just as a steady fuck buddy, but still. You’d gone from scared to look boys in the eye to being very aware of the fact that you walking through the Harrington’s front door with your books and notes had a pretty much Pavlovian effect of Steve’s cock. He was basically hard fifteen minutes into any tutoring session these days.

It’s not that Steve’s attention has validated you, per se. It’s more that it has made you realize how silly men are. How easy and one track minded they can be. Its almost silly to think how starved you had been for approval and how sure you’d been that your status as an A+ goody goody made you untouchable. That was clearly, judging by the bruises Steve left on your thighs each week, not the case. The whole thing has made you ten times less nervous in his presence. And if you don’t have to be nervous around the King, it essentially means that you’re more at ease everywhere.

At first this change in you intrigues Steve. He truly had never really given you much thought prior to the start of your dalliance. Sure you were pretty…in a stuffy, academic, good girl type of way. But he was always a bird of prey, looking for shiny, garish, colorful and shapely things to catch his eye.

So the day you show up to his place in a tight skirt and a fashionable off the shoulder blouse that bares your collar bones and exposes cleavage, Steve’s eyes practically pop out of his head.

“Well hello,” he says directly to your tits. You roll your eyes and step around him into the house.

“Hi, Steve,” you reply, walking towards the dining room where you usually have your sessions. Steve jogs up behind you and grabs you at the waist, turning you back to him.

“Not in there. Let’s study in my room.”

“Why?” you ask, confused by the sudden change.

“Well, my parents are home,” Steve elaborates. Heat fills you as you realize what he means, but you cock your head to the side, waiting for him to say it. Steve rubs the back of his neck and chuckles. “So we can’t…have fun in the dining room.”

“I’m here to tutor you, Steve. So I guess it’s okay if we can’t have fun,” you say with a shrug. You can’t suppress your smile though and Steve’s smile widens. A few weeks ago you would have stuttered and gone shy but immediately compliant, hoping to please him. This was new.

“Yeah but what about when I get an answer right?” Steve asks, stepping forward and lifting his hand so he can play with the hem of your shirt. “You know I need positive reinforcement.”

You do your best to hide your swallow at the memory of how you had sucked his cock after you’d cajoled him into memorizing his flash cards. Even more heat courses through your body but you look up at him defiantly.

“I brought a packet of gold stars. You like stickers, Steve?”

Your answer catches him off guard and he lets out a bark of a laugh. There’s a triumphant fanfare ringing in your ears at the fact that you are able to make Steve laugh like that. Organically and not part of any of kind of show or flirtation or charm offensive.

“I do like stickers…” he says, his hand dipping under the hem of your top and splaying out over the bare skin of your waist. “But I think this body might motivate me better.”

Your breath catches in your throat at that. His heavy eye contact leaves you nowhere to run. Not that you’d ever run from Steve. He’s a magnet pulling you in regardless of distance or context.

But he’s also made the vital mistake of showing his hand. He wants something from you, too. This isn’t a one way serving pity situation. You might be dumb with his cock in you, but before it gets to that point you’re still the smartest girl in Hawkins. So you use this information to your advantage.

You take his hand and walk him up the stairs (a bold move that he didn’t see coming and which makes him immediately rock hard as he watches your ass away ahead of him up the steps).

You’re the one who closes the door. He locks it.

You end up getting Steve to complete all of his homework…by himself. With motivation in the form of a game where you give him a sticker after he completes each assignment and he gets to decide which body part of yours it goes on. By the end of the afternoon you’re naked on his bed, a sticker on each of your tits, each of your ass cheeks, your bellybutton, and your lower abdomen. By the end of the session his head is squeezed between your thighs, his hands roaming and roving to squeeze each soft piece of flesh he’d bedazzled with his gold stars of favor.

So yeah. At first your increased confidence was something Steve found pretty fucking hot.

But as time went on, he began to realize that your confidence didn’t begin and end with him. He started seeing you around in school more. It’s not that you had somehow increased the amount of times you cross his path in a day, exactly. More that you used to melt into the background a bit more. He’d notice you only if you were right in front of him shyly waving. He’d wave back dutifully at his tutor, sometimes throwing you a bone in the form of a wink, lazily enjoying the way it would so obviously throw you into a tailspin with virtually no effort on his part.

Now you’re somehow everywhere all at once. And not only are you noticeable in the crowd - you stand out from it. Your hair is more stylish, your clothes are unapologetically patterned and colored and fit you in ways his hands envy. Your smile is brighter than the god damn fluorescents above. And now Steve is the one who has to maneuver to catch your eye. Because you’re always talking to people these days, it seems. And a lot of those people are guys, Steve notices begrudgingly.

You stand with your back against a locker, your books pulled to your chest as your arms wrap around them, a smile on your face that is definitely not worth the lame ass comment said by the dumb jock standing before you. Steve pauses at the water fountain where he’d been bending when he’d turned his head and saw you. So clearly the recipient of some football player’s attention.

And boy do you glow under attention.

That week when you arrive at his house to tutor him, Steve tries to charm you again into simply fucking outright. Again, you coyly dance around it, making him work for it. He ends up losing his patience and crowding you in the kitchen when you get up for a snack.

“Steve! I’m trying to—!” You’re squealing but he swallows it up as he takes the coke can out of your hand and blindly moves it away from you, his mouth already hot on yours.

Before you can register what’s happening, Steve’s hoisted you up onto the kitchen counter and pushed his way between your spread legs.

“What?” Steve asks, pulling away and feigning nonchalance as if he hadn’t just manhandled you and mauled you with his lips. “You said we could have a snack break.” He slides a hand down to cup your pussy through your skirt. He pets at the place over your clit. “This is my snack.”

What would have once rendered you speechless makes you roll your eyes.

“I’m actually hungry, Steve.”

Steve gives you a lopsided grin and drops his hand on his hard on, evident and swell in the confines of his jeans.

“Got a snack for you right here.”

You laugh at that and Steve feels something akin to pride zing through him. But it’s not exactly like pride, an emotion he knows well. No, it’s something different. Warmer.

“As much as I do enjoy that particular snack, Harrington, I don’t think your cum will satiate me.”

“Fuck. Dirty talk and big words like ‘satiate’.” Steve pretends to feel faint with a hand on his forehead. “You really have this hot smart girl thing figured out.”

You shake your head at him but smile, and Steve hates the fact that it’s your smile that makes him even harder.

He also hates the fact that fifteen minutes later he finds himself sliding into a booth at the local diner rather than sliding himself into your sweet pussy.

You’d cajoled him into taking you for a real meal since there was nothing to eat at his place. And no, you’d continued to argue. His cock was not a balanced meal.

His hand had been on your thigh for half of the drive to the diner before he realized, like ice water down his back, that the whole situation reeked of a date. He’d pulled his hand back over to clutch at the steering wheel with a double grip, eyes flitting to you anxiously. However you seemed not to notice, looking instead out the window pleasantly.

As he’d parked Steve had made a mental note to reel in the PDA. He didn’t want you thinking this was more than it was. More than a weekly fuck session between two consenting people. One of whom used to have the upper hand and one of whom…had the sexiest smile with lips that looked sinful wrapped around a stripped straw and cheeks that hollowed sexually as they sucked—

Fuck.

Steve Harrington was in trouble.

The meal went by quickly, and over time you were able to pull him from his rattled internal monologue, stealing his fries and teasing him for getting in trouble in class earlier in the day. Steve throws a fry at you and nudges your foot with his under the table. You laugh. His stomach flips. His palm itches so he drops it under the table and rubs it against the denim on his thigh.

When the waitress comes with the check, you bound to the bathroom and Steve gets a minute to get his shit together.

He’s Steve fucking Harrington. Supreme stud of Hawkins High. Another girl every week (although if he was counting, which he wasn’t, it had been a few weeks since he’d reracked his rotation). He fishes his wallet out of his too-tight jeans and drops down some bills.

“Thanks, handsome.”

Steve looks up, expecting to see you but instead realizing it had come from the waitress who he’d forgotten was standing there. She’s a pretty thing, maybe a year or two older. He’s seen her working here before and he lets his eyes roam over her figure unabashedly. Her uniform isn’t zipped up all the way in the front, leaving exposed a generous swell of cleavage and her waist flares out into a voluptuous set of hips. She taps a manicured nail on her order pad, patiently waiting for him to finish oogling her. She’s a hot girl and he’s a hot guy. She knows this dance and so does Steve. When he drags his eyes up from her tits to her face, she looks expectant.

This is the part where he chats her up. Where he compliments her - or cuts her down a bit in a boyish, redeemable way - and then asks her out. He’s supposed to give her his million watt rich boy smile, run a hand through his hair, and turn on the charm.

She’s expecting it. He’s expecting it of himself.

But instead, all he can manage is a nod and a tight smile. He watches the waitress’s brows raise and her smile fall a bit. But then she’s simply picking up the money and walking away. Steve has a moment of panic as his eyes drop to watch the sway of her ass as she retreats. What the fuck is wrong with him? He could have been tucked away in his car with that hot woman, spanking that ass within the hour.

Instead he’s still tucked away in a booth at a diner her didn’t want to go to, still painfully hard without an outlet in sight.

Which is when he hears your laugher ring out, causing said hard cock to twitch. Steve turns quickly to find you standing by the entrance to the bathroom, cornered by yet another football player.

He sees red. The way you’re leaning up against the wall is a mirror image to when he’d seen you receive attention earlier in the week by your locker. You gaze up at the football player with a smile that Steve realizes he’d assumed was only meant for him. It boils his blood to think that the smile you’d bestowed on him so dutifully, so loyally, was just your smile. A thing to be handed out like some cheap party favor to any Tom, Dick, or Harry.

Steve can’t know - especially from a distance - that you really are only humoring this guy. If one looked closer they could never mistake the tight lipped, emotionless nicety on your face for the radiant, full bodied smile you reserved for Steve. You’d gotten cornered by the jock on your way back to the bathroom, and you’d been trying to politely extricate yourself from his lukewarm advances for a few minutes now.

He was rambling about his car and the upgrades he’d gotten done to it when suddenly a pair of big hands land heavy on your shoulder.

“Babe, I paid the check. Let’s get out of here.”

You whip your head around to find Steve behind you, though his gaze is placed firmly on the football player. Though they aren’t the same in width, Steve’s got the guy beat in height, and he uses it to his advantage by standing up straight and puffing his chest a bit.

“Harrington,” the jock chokes out. In the Hawkins hierarchy, the basketball team is more successful than the football team by a long shot, so a certain amount of deference is expected for the king of the court, even from fellow athletes. “I’m sorry…I didn’t…is this your girl?”

Steve feels you go rigid under his hold. Your eyes flash up to his but he doesn’t meet yours.

“Don’t you have a playbook to memorize?” Steve asks coolly. He pulls lightly and your back presses against his chest. “If I remember football season right, I’d say it’s gonna take you till fall and then some. Better get back to it.”

You try to laugh his comment off and put a hand on the bicep of your would-be suitor.

“Steve, this is—,”

“Mr. Irrelevant,” Steve completes for you, smoothly using both an insult and a football pun.

The jock stutters another apology before ambling back to his friends. You don’t have time to question Steve because his arm is suddenly around you, pulling you with him out the door.

The two of you walk briskly to his car, and only when you reach the passenger door do you finally regain your powers of speech.

“What was that in there, Steve?” you ask quietly. Your hand is on the door handle but you remain motionless.

“What? I told you, I don’t like football players,” Steve says with a shrug, yanking open the driver side door and dropping into his seat. You climb in carefully and watch him as he violently pulls on his seatbelt.

“Why?”

“Because they’re a bunch of meat heads and it’s a sport revolving around how many concussions they can rack up—,”

“No, Steve,” you interrupt gently, your hand dropping on his knee. “Why were you acting…possessive?”

Steve’s skin burns through his jeans where your hand touches him. He stares at it for a second before looking up, agitated.

“Well excuse me for saving you. I thought you’d be thanking me for getting that guy to stop drooling on you.”

His words sting and you wince. Steve even winces a bit, having not intended to sound so forceful. You shrug.

“He was only being nice.”

Steve let’s out a humorless laugh.

“That wasn’t being nice. That was undressing you with his eyes. That was trying to get you to let him feel you up under the bleachers. Nice is—,”

“Nice is flirting with your tutor to get her to do your homework?”

Steve freezes before he can turn the key in the ignition. He looks over to find that you’re staring blankly out the windshield. Your arms are hugging you, like you’re trying to comfort yourself.

“That’s not…”

“Nice is fucking her when you’re bored? Your little prescheduled sex appointment?”

Steve’s defenses raise and he unbuckles his seatbelt so he can turn more fully to you.

“Hey wait, that’s—,”

“That’s exactly what this is. I haven’t misunderstood that, Steve,” you say, finally turning the full force of your earnest gaze on him. “Have you?”

Steve blinks at you slowly. Completely unsure about what’s going on and how the night has taken this turn.

He’s even more bewildered when you suddenly move to climb into the back seat.

“What are you doing?” he asks, surprised and leaning over to watch you lay yourself down on the seat.

“You wanted to fuck me earlier. So do it.”

Steve feels like you’ve slapped him in the face. Your stare is cool and you begin to unbutton your blouse. Panic rises inside of him and his head whirls around.

“Here? Someone could see,” Steve argues. They are in the back corner of the parking lot, but it’s a parking lot nonetheless, illuminated by one sole street lamp. You shrug.

“The windows are tinted, aren’t they?”

Steve can’t begin to comprehend the conflict coursing through his veins. Of course the windows are tinted. Almost illegally so. He knows that because he’s fucked countless girls in the back seat of his car. Hadn’t he even just thought about fucking that waitress in his car only minutes ago?

But with you…

He’s thrown off by the urge he has to cover your breasts with his hands when you peel back your top. Not even to touch you but just to keep you from being seen by others.

Why does he fucking care?

King Steve had fucked at every party he’d ever been to - sometimes even in rooms with no doors or up against the back of a house with people nearby on a porch. He’d never once had a conscience about it. As long as the girl was down, he was ready to go.

So why is it different now, with you stripping in his back seat and staring at him with big doe eyes?

“Come on. Don’t make me get started by myself,” you say teasingly. You’re clearly trying to lighten the suddenly heavy mood. Steve swallows hard.

“You wouldn’t.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him and lift the hem of your skirt. You’re wearing a lacy scrap of panties that match your bra. Definitely a far cry from the sensible underwear you’d been wearing the first time he’d seduced you.

“Try me.”

And despite the confusion and warning bells going off in his head, Steve’s clambering into the back seat in seconds. He’s on top of you, hips shoved between your thighs and big hands on your wrists, pinning them above your head against the inside of the car door.

“That’s more like it,” you coo, smiling a dazzling smile up at him. It thrills him and upsets him and makes him frustrated all at once, and since he doesn’t know how to express that with words he does it physically. His mouth drops to your neck so he can pull a sizable amount of flesh between his lips and suck. Hard. You gasp and arch up into him, giving him the perfect opportunity to switch your wrists into a single handed grip so he can move the other hand down to grope at your breasts. Instead of covering them and hiding them, he rips down your bra, letting your breasts spill from the cups.

Steve bites a bruising trail down from your neck to your cleavage, sucking harder than he ever has before.

“Trying to be cute, huh?” he growls against your skin. You laugh breathlessly, wrists straining against his hold.

“Yeah. ‘s it working?”

That makes Steve strangle a laugh but it still frustrates him. You’ve somehow still got the upper hand here. Even though you’re below him and your body is at his mercy. When did the tables turn so fully?

So he sits up abruptly, leaving you laying back, legs still open wide around his hips, his spit still drying around the new bruises sucked to your neck. You’re motionless for a second before leaning up on your elbows to look at him, dazed.

“I’m a little unconvinced,” Steve says with a shrug. A frown filters over your features. You watch as he smooths his hands up and down your thighs, looking at your panty-clad center appraisingly.

“What are you unconvinced about?” you ask. Steve draws a line with his index finger over the length of the waistband of your panties.

“That you really want it bad enough.”

Frustration flickers in your eyes.

“Want what?” you ask, playing along. Steve drops one hand to the bulge in his jeans.

“This cock.”

You roll your eyes and sit up higher.

“Of course I want—,”

“I’m not sure, baby. You were gonna touch yourself back here. Maybe I should have let you handle it.” His actions contradict his words as one hand rubs slow circles right at the crease where your thigh meets your hip. Your eyebrows knit together.

“No, I want you,” you reply, almost petulantly.

There it is.

This is what Steve needed.

But he shakes his head. Now that he’s got you back on the line he’s going to enjoy this to the fullest.

“Maybe you had the right idea,” he says, leaning back a bit against the opposite door. The backs of your thighs still rest on the tops of his, and with one hand still heavy on you, his free hand pops open the button of his jeans. You feel the slide of his zipper rush down your spine.

When Steve pulls his cock out and begins to stroke it, you feel your stomach drop and your mouth water. He’s watching you as he does it. Eyes darting from your breasts almost spilling out of the cups of your bra to the wet spot in the center of your panties. It makes you hot. It turns you on in a way that’s almost painful to watch the flushed fat head of his cock disappear and reappear in the grip of his fist.

“I’m…I’m right here,” you mutter. Steve grins and takes his hand from his cock and slides it confidently under the elastic hem of your panties.

“Yeah, you are.”

The intrusion of his fingers is sudden and sure and you gasp at the feeling of them sliding through your slick. He swirls a few circles around your tensing hole before sliding up to press circles into your clit. You drop back down off your elbows and let out a satisfied moan at the stimulation you’d craved.

But then…he’s pulling his hand back, allowing the elastic of your panties to snap back on you with a sting. You sit up again fast and watch as he takes the wetness he’d gathered from you to make the glide of his hand on his cock more smooth. Your jaw drops.

“Thanks, baby,” Steve says with a wink.

“Steve, what?!”

He shrugs.

“I would’ve asked you to spit in my hand but I didn’t think you would since you’re having an attitude.”

That. That struck exactly the nerve he thought it would. Your jaw sets and your eyes flash. Scooting back a bit so you, too, can lean on the inside of the door closest to you, you drop your legs open wider, well aware of the way Steve’s attention immediately drops to them.

“You’re not very nice, Steve Harrington,” you say quietly. Both of your hands move to squeeze at your own breasts and you arch into your own touch. Steve chuckles at that, eyes on your hands.

“And you’re nice even when you’re pissed apparently,” he says dismissively. Your frown deepens as you pull your bra down to expose you fully. Steve’s face goes blank, like you hoped.

“Fuck you,” you respond, just as quiet as before. Steve’s eyes remain glazed, hand moving faster on his cock, but he gives a lopsided grin.

“There she is. Feisty.”

The interior of the car has started to heat up. The humid smell of sex fills the air, though you’d prefer actually having sex. He’s been pushing it tonight, but you really can’t help the way you feel watching his big hand move on his even bigger cock. It should be inside you. This is the day of your tutoring session. The one day of the week that almost guaranteed you had his attention. Every other day, King Steve belonged to Hawkins. He was a heartthrob and a hometown hero. Probably inside of a different girl each night of the weekend (though you try not to think of that because it’s gross).

But on tutoring days it’s just you. So the fact that he’s choosing to touch himself rather than fill you has you feeling petty. It makes you redouble your efforts. You pinch one of your nipples and let out a heady, performative sigh, all while your other hand moves down and shoves inside your panties. You trace the same path Steve did, circling your hole and then your clit. Getting yourself nice and worked up with your eyes glued on the way Steve drags his hand over his throbbing dick.

Steve is mesmerized, as seems evident by the way he’s stopped talking to watch you. To hear you.

When you push two fingers inside of yourself, you let out an indulgent moan that causes Steve’s hips to buck into his hand. Your thighs quiver where they remain stretched out around his legs.

You drop your other hand down into your stretched out panties to play with your clit while you continue thrusting fingers in and out of yourself - that’s when Steve loses it.

“Show me,” he says gruffly, eyes ripping from the space between your legs to look up at you blearily.

“You’re literally watching me right now,” you laugh, breathless. Steve shakes his head and reaches out to tug on the edge of your panties.

“Get this shit out of the way.”

Now it’s your turn to shake your head.

“Nope. You had your chance with my pussy. You wanted your hand.”

The filthy words coming from you almost makes his eyes roll back in his head. He grunts and continues fisting his cock, but he looks more frustrated now.

Unfortunately there’s something of a Pavlovian response in your body at the sight of his aggression. Whether you like it or not, your burgeoning sexuality had crackled into being under the hands of Steve Harrington, and Steve being Steve is what gets you going.

Unlucky for you and the upper hand you’re trying to cling to, Steve can tell. Back to back weeks of fucking the same person will do that to you, apparently.

“You’re close.” It’s more accusation than observation.

You want to disagree but your fingers speed up on your clit and you widen your legs even more, looking to build pressure.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Fuck.” Steve slows his hand on his cock, breathing deeply and placing a laser focus on your hands in your panties. “Bet you’re getting tight around those fingers, huh?”

“Yeah,” you nod, eyes closing and head thrown back against the door. “Really tight…”

Steve let’s out an uncharacteristically pathetic moan. The thrill of it causes your core to contract even tighter.

“Bet you wish I was sucking those tits right now,” Steve remarks, replaying in his head all the times he’d made you cum lately. You lift up to look at him with stern hooded eyes and pull one of your hands from your panties. With a pointed look you raise your fingers to your mouth, lick them wetly, and then bring them down to play with your nipple. Your hips buck into your other hand and Steve loses his fucking mind.

“Alright, that’s fucking it,” he says, launching himself forward. He’s on you in the blink of an eye, hitching your legs up and around his hips, dropping so that his elbows cage you in on either side of your head. The length of his cock slides parallel to your entrance with a wet sound, pushing your pussy lips apart.

“Finally,” you moan petulantly. And that’s all the consent Steve needs to reach down and line himself up so he can thrust into you.

Things get hot and hazy after that. Your fingers thread into his hair and pull hard at the roots. Steve’s tongue and teeth are everywhere, but especially on your pulse point and on the peaks of your breasts.

The slap of skin on skin fills the interior of the car, rivaled only by your shared panting.

Steve shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t be such a relief to sink into your body, like it’s a home he’s been waiting to return to. Your nails biting into his back through his shirt shouldn’t feel like heaven and your little mewls and gasps shouldn’t be an angel’s chorus. He’s not even fucking religious, so what’s with the holy comparisons?

“Oh Steve. Fuck,” you whisper moan right into his ear. Steve slides a hand under you to push your lower back up, giving your hips a tilt that lets him hit deeper.

“It’s good, yeah?” he asks. It’s a question but it’s cocky. You bite his earlobe and clench around him.

“I don’t know, is it?”

“Fucking Christ.”

Yeah. Steve Harrington is seeing god in the back seat of his car in a diner parking lot.

~*~

It takes a minute for you both to catch your breath when you’re done. Sweat and cum and words left unsaid create a film over the two of you which makes it hard to breathe.

Eventually Steve helps you climb back into the front seat before hoping behind the wheel himself to bring you back to the empty Harrington house. Upon arriving, Steve puts the car in park and turns to you, intent on speaking though he’s not sure what he plans to say. You, however, give him no such chance to figure it out as you bound out of the car and up the path to the front door. Steve catches up to let you in.

It’s later than it usually is when you wrap up your tutoring sessions. Steve has to turn on lamps as he follows you through the dark foyer and into the dining room where he finds you already grabbing your things and packing your bag up, half hidden in shadow.

“We didn’t finish the work,” he says quietly. Some what dumbly. You hoist your bag over your shoulder and give him a smile that deep down he knows he doesn’t deserve.

“Yeah. Looks like we’ll have to finish another time.”

When you start for the door, moving at a brisk pace, Steve stumbles after you.

You’re over the threshold and making your way to your car, glowing in the yellow light of the porch lamp before Steve can blurt out.

“When?”

God, he does sound fucking dumb.

And you. You turn and give him one last smile. Looking so put together. So smart.

“That’s up to you, Steve,” you say with a shrug, opening your car door. “You let me know.”

And with that, you get in your car and drive away. Leaving Steve standing alone on his porch with his thoughts.

~*~

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Ahhh originally had no intention of writing a part two and then this happened. Please reblog and comment to let me know what you think and thanks for reading!!

[screaminglygay]

KINKTOBER (day 1)

pairing: witch!wanda maximoff x fem!reader - teasing

summary: being with wanda in haunted house was horrible, even with her holding your hand, maybe something else will help

warning: wanda being a tease, mommy kink, edging, scary haunted house:(

word count: 2.3k

an: starting the kinktober slowly hehe, happy kinktober everyone!

"Why did I agree to this again?" you sigh, your breath visible in the chilly evening, noticing the entrance of the haunted house. The structure looks more like an abandoned asylum than an attraction, its cracked windows and peeling paint giving off an weird vibe that makes your stomach turn.

Wanda squeezes your hand gently, her touch grounding you, but there's an unmistakable glint of excitement in her eyes. "Because," she says, her voice laced with amusement, "it’s fun!"

You shoot her a sideways glance, your heart racing more from the anticipation of what's inside than her teasing words. "You and I have very different ideas of what fun is…" you mutter under your breath, trying to steady yourself as a sudden wave of wind sends chills down your spine.

The sound of distant, muffled screams from inside the house doesn’t help.

"Darling," she stops you before you two enter the haunted house, "I´m here with you, okay? Nothing bad will happen to you, not on my watch." Wanda squeezes both of your hands.

"Why can’t we go back home? You know, watch some movies or just cuddle?" You look into her eyes, usually captivating, but in your current state, even the most angelic gaze can’t protect you from the fear building up inside you.

Wanda chuckles, "because we made a deal, remember? I let you cum, you will do whatever I want. So here we are, doing what I want." There it is, her smirk.

Did you promised her that? You can´t really remember.

"Fuck… mommy!"

"Not yet, my love." Wanda smiled.

"Please, please, please!" you begged, as if your life depended on it—or maybe it actually did. "I’ll do anything, I promise, anything!"

"Anything you say?" Like many times before, her hands pulled away from your aching body.

You might have looked pathetic, but there was nothing, that you needed more, than the release. But even if Wanda asked under different circumstances, you would also agree to do anything for her. You moved your hips, hoping that would make her pity you and just let you cum, but as always… it didn´t do anything at all.

"Words." She loved playing with you so much. You were her favorite magic prop.

"Yes, uh huh! Please!" Your mind was empty, there was no way you know what you signed up for.

"You did and then you came all over me," she says louder than expected.

"Wanda!" You look around hoping the people didn´t heard that, thafully they were as scared as you.

"What? Am I lying?" Wanda tilts her head with a soft innocent smile.

"No." You can feel your cheeks getting really red.

"Then ready to go?" Wanda asks softly, her lips brushing your forehead in a comforting kiss that momentarily quiets the butterflies in your stomach.

"No," you murmur, meeting her gaze with a pleading look. "Can I at least use you as a shield the whole time?"

Wanda tilts her head, her eyes narrowing slightly in amusement as a small smirk tugs at her lips. "A shield?" Her tone is playful, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in her gaze.

"Well, you’re a witch, aren’t you?" you shrug, doing your best to sound casual despite the anxiety bubbling inside you. "You can protect us both with your magic or something. You know, just in case things get… too real." You shoot her a hopeful look, trying to hide just how serious you actually are.

Wanda’s smirk deepens as she leans closer, her fingers gently tracing the line of your jaw. "Hmm, so you want me to conjure up a spell just to save you from a few cheap scares?" She arches a brow, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

"Wanda…" you draw out her name, your voice betraying the nerves you’re trying to mask. "Pretty please? It’s not like you don’t have the power…"

Her laugh is soft and melodic, but there’s a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Oh, I have the power alright." A faint shimmer of scarlet dances at her fingertips as she brings her hand up between you, the warmth of her magic brushing against your skin like static electricity. "What’s the point if I take all the fun out of it?"

You can’t help but roll your eyes. "Wanda, I’m not exactly a fan of things jumping out at me from the dark."

She chuckles softly, "I’ll keep you under my wing, don’t worry." There’s a glint in her eyes that makes you both comforted and a little suspicious. "Or maybe…" she adds, her voice dropping into a lower, more suggestive tone, "I’ll just keep your mind occupied the whole time."

You blink at her, caught off guard by the shift in her voice. "Occupied? How exactly—?" you start, but she’s already tugging you forward, her playful grin making it clear she’s not about to answer that question outright.

"You’ll see," Wanda hums, leading you toward the entrance of the haunted house. You hesitate for a moment, glancing up at the building, but with her hand still firmly in yours, it feels a little easier to take that first step.

"God help me," you mumble.

"I will, don´t worry." She winks at you.

You nod, though your stomach twists. She squeezes your hand once more, stepping into the darkness, and you follow closely, her teasing promise still lingering in your mind. You’re not quite sure what she meant by keeping your mind occupied, but you get the feeling you’ll find out soon enough.

The hallway you step into is narrow and dimly lit, the flickering lights casting eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper. You keep close to Wanda, but with each creak of the floorboards, every distant scream, your heart beats a little faster.

Then, out of nowhere, a figure lurches from the darkness—a ghastly creature with glowing eyes and bloodstained rags. You let out a startled yelp, instinctively grabbing tighter at Wanda’s arm, your body practically jumping behind her for cover.

She laughs, low and teasing at first, but then she glances over her shoulder and catches the look on your face—wide eyes, trembling hands clutching her arm tightly. Her teasing smirk softens into something more understanding.

"Okay, I see now…" she murmurs, turning to face you more fully, her hand coming up to gently brush your hair behind your ear. "You're a little more scared than I thought."

Your breath is still shaky, your grip on her sleeve unrelenting. "I told you I don’t do well with this stuff," you mutter, your voice barely a whisper as the creature disappears back into the shadows, leaving only an eerie silence behind.

Wanda chuckles, but this time it’s softer, more reassuring. She pulls you closer, her arm slipping around your waist protectively. "Alright, under my wing you go," she says, her lips brushing against your temple. "I’ll take better care of you."

As you walk deeper into the haunted house, something shifts. With Wanda’s arm around your waist, the fear that had gripped you moments ago starts to drift away, replaced by a strange warmth that spreads through your body. It’s not just her protective presence—it’s something more. Her touch feels… different now, electric, as if a current of energy is flowing between the two of you.

The creaks and distant screams fade into the background as your mind starts to wander, your thoughts hazier than before. You can’t pinpoint when exactly it happens, but suddenly, images start to flash in your head—soft, fleeting images of Wanda’s lips on yours, her hands roaming over your skin. You blink, startled, trying to push the thoughts away, but they come back stronger. More vivid.

Your breath catches in your throat. This isn’t your imagination. This is Wanda. She’s doing this.

You glance up at her, eyes wide, and see her smirking, her fingers casually trailing along your arm as if nothing’s changed. But the heat in your body is undeniable now, a steady hum of desire building inside you. "Wanda…" you manage to whisper, though you’re not even sure what you’re asking.

"Shhh," she coos, her voice low and soothing. "Just hold my hand and follow me, okay, darling?"

Her words are soft, but the way she says "darling" sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, unable to form a coherent response as her hand finds yours again, squeezing gently. The images grow more intense—her lips trailing down your neck, her breath warm against your skin, and you feel your face flush, your whole body reacting to the fantasy she’s weaving in your mind.

You try to keep your focus on walking, on following her through the dimly lit hallways, but it’s nearly impossible with the thoughts she’s projecting into your head. The haunted house seems to melt away, and all you can think about is her—her touch, her voice, her lips, her hands, her neck, her fingers.

Wanda glances over at you, clearly noticing the effect she’s having. "Doing okay?" she asks innocently, though the glint in her eyes tells you she knows exactly what she’s doing.

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nod again, your face a blushing mess as you follow her through the darkness. With each step, the tension builds, and even though the haunted house is still filled with eerie noises and unsettling sights, none of it seems to matter anymore. All you can focus on is Wanda and the way she’s taking control of not just your body, but your mind.

You stumble through another dimly lit hallway, your breath quickening as her projected thoughts grow more intense. Your heart races, and it’s no longer from fear. You can barely pay attention to the haunted house now—your mind is a mess of heat, need for Wanda.

Suddenly, Wanda pauses. You blink, disoriented, and realize she’s tugging you gently to the side, leading you into a dark, secluded corner of the house where the shadows seem to swallow you both whole. There’s no one around—no actors, no other visitors. Just the two of you, hidden from view.

"W-Wanda?" you stammer, your voice shaky as you try to steady yourself.

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she presses you back against the cool, creaky wall, her body close. Her hand trails up your arm, leaving a tingling warmth in its wake, before it rests on your cheek, her thumb brushing over your lips.

"You’re all over the place, darling," she purrs, her voice low and dripping with amusement. You can feel her magic in the air, the faint glow of scarlet flickering at her fingertips, though she’s not casting any spells—yet. "Can’t even think straight, can you?"

You shake your head, a breathy laugh escaping your lips, though it’s more from nerves than humor. You feel like you’re burning up inside, your heart pounding in your chest as Wanda’s touch lingers on your skin.

Her lips curve into a sly smile as she leans in closer, her breath hot against your ear. "Patience, darling," she coos softly, "I know what you want… but you’ll have to wait."

Your eyes flutter closed for a moment, your mind spinning, and all you can manage is a weak nod. "Okay," you breathe, barely able to speak with the way she has you wrapped around her finger.

"Okay?" Wanda tilts her head again.

You nod, but after a few second of just staring into her eyes, you understand, "mommy."

She lets out a soft, knowing chuckle, her hand trailing down your neck now, slow and deliberate, just enough to drive you crazy. "Good girl," she whispers, the words making your knees feel weak. "Just follow my lead."

You nod again, unable to do anything else. The witch is completely in control, and she knows how much you want to give in to her every command.

You don´t even know how long it takes before you two managed to be outside, the contrast between the cool breeze and the heat swirling inside you leaving you breathless. You’re still clinging to Wanda’s arm, she guides you forward. The two of you walk in silence for a few moments, your steps quick as if trying to escape not the house, but the dizzying tension that lingers between you. Your mind is still foggy, the weight of Wanda’s presence heavy against your side. She’s in control of the space around you, and you feel it in every step, every soft whisper she lets slip.

"You’re quiet," she murmurs after a beat, glancing over at you with that knowing look. She doesn’t need to ask why—you both know exactly why. "Still thinking about what I put in your head, hmm?"

You can’t even form a proper response, just a weak laugh and a slight shake of your head, your cheeks still flushed. It’s hard to walk straight with how lightheaded you feel, and Wanda is more than aware of it.

When the two of you finally reach a more open area, away from the scary atmosphere, Wanda slows her pace, turning toward you. Her hand slides down from your waist, her fingers brushing deliberately against your skin as she lets her arm slip away.

"It wasn’t so bad, was it, darling?" she teases, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Her voice, so soft and low, wraps around you like a spell. "Though I don’t think it was the ghosts that had you trembling in there." She raises a brow, her smirk widening as she watches your reaction.

You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise to your face again. "No," you mumble, avoiding her gaze, "I guess not."

Wanda hums in approval, stepping closer to you, her fingers once again finding yours. Her thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles as she leans in, her breath hot against your ear. "I’ll admit," she whispers, her voice sending a shiver through your entire body, "I’m wanting to get home just as much as you do now."

You feel your stomach flip, your legs weak from the intensity of her words. Before you can even process what she’s said, Wanda’s lips brush against your ear, just the barest touch, but it makes your pulse quicken.

"Come on," she says, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes, her smirk never fading. "Let’s go, darling. I have… a few things in mind for when we get home."

Hehe thank you for reading! hope you liked the first fic of kinktober!!