#it’s just a strip though. I’m not doing anything too crazy with it

[yeehawbvby]

My ACNH island is VERY slowly coming together (been working on it since.. I think July? Maybe august?)

I’m really happy with the progress I’ve made except I’m now one of those people whose island lags because of the amount of stuff in some spots lmao 🧎🏻‍♀️ it’s a worthy sacrifice though imo because my orchard is the culprit and it looks banging!!

Either way. BEHOLD

[dadsbongos]

sweetnerd

@toxycodone / @maniacpixiedreamboy been waiting to post this one for ya (based on this post of his)

summary - daisuke -desperate for some release after months of passionless jerking- begs to eat you out one night.

1 k words / 18+! mdni

Recently, the lock on medical had been snapped off. Thankfully, you knew the culprit to be Swansea after a belligerent search for painkillers. And unfortunately, you were responsible for watching over the numerous drugs each night.

Well, you claim it’s a misfortune but really you placed the burden upon yourself. Anya insisted that she would sit with you -- seemed borderline inconsolable at the idea of you being there alone. Then she told you the code to unlock the ship’s gun.

You weren’t sure why a nurse and her assistant had access to the gun when even Captain Curly didn’t, but you also weren’t getting paid enough to ask. Besides, you’ve never had a reason to use it so why concern yourself?

As if sensing all such serenity, the Tulpar bangs outside. Then Daisuke is clambering inside, hands on the doorframe and cheeks flush. His knees are pressed together, his whole body bent like some cheap hanger. Hair tousled, strands upright in odd angles -almost electric in nature. If not for the utter strangling silence behind him and his heavy breathing, you might’ve thought the rest of the ship was on fire.

“Dai… suke..?” you sit up groggily, scrubbing exhaustion from your eye, “The hell’s wrong with you? Do you know what time it is?”

“Do you?” he shoots, abandoning the argument a second later in favor of quietly humming, “I wanted to ask you…”

“Yeah?”

“Uhm, ugh… It was easier in my head… earlier…” he mumbles, hand drifting down toward his pelvis. He scrunches the crotch of his sleep pants, a lofty sigh escaping at the squeeze, “Can you- I’m just, you get it? You’ve gotta,” he clenches his eyes, seemingly shaking away the humiliation that very instant and looking at you with the biggest, wettest plead you’ve ever seen, “Can you please sit on my face while I jerk off please? Please?”

The pinched look on your face does not scream disgust, which only relieves him slightly -- he hadn’t really considered what he’d do if you reported his question to Captain Curly. Head too hot with want to forethink something as trivial as a sexual harassment lawsuit.

“Why…?” you lean back, hesitant though not appalled.

“I need to get off, like crazy,” he stumbles forward, slow enough for you to roughly shove him back if you want to, “All I got is an old mag, and it’s junk!” you can hear the delirium thrumming through him the longer you keep him waiting, “You’re so hot, I just wanna eat you out… You don’t even have to do anything, just ride my face! I’ll be good, I promise. We can stop whenever, too, I don’t need to finish,” he swallows harshly before whispering something you’re not totally sure you were meant to hear, “Just the memory could make me cum anyway.”

“Uhm…”

“I’ll give you some of my sweetener stash!”

“I don’t want that, Daisuke…”

“Then forget you heard it!” his dark eyes scramble over your body, “What else can I give you?”

Your own gaze flips over his shoulder, out the still open medical door and down the hall. Empty. Quiet. You snag him by the loose collar of his spare Pony Express shirt, sunshine fabric pillowing between your finger, wrangling him into the bay.

“Just be quiet,” you hiss, “The lock’s busted.”

Daisuke’s rosy lips drawl upward, loose and loopy and disbelieving, “You’re serious?”

“Aren’t you?”

He nods hastily, jumping back onto one of the care beds before flattening across it -- pleading silently up at you with wet puppy eyes while scrubbing sweaty palms down his thighs. Crinkling the soft material until it’s ricketing down his knees; watching hawklike as you slowly strip. Then you crawl atop of him, he clutches you by the hips and blows out a wildly uneven breath.

Barely able to find the strength to blink -lest he be cursed to cut the sight of your bare skin from his eyes- Daisuke only just scrounges the wherewithal to assist you into kneeling over his scorched face.

Exhaling between your thighs, Daisuke winds one hand around your thigh -blunt nails digging into the fat- while wrapping his cock with the other.

Craning his neck, he approaches eating you out the exact way you assumed he would: eagerly and without forethought. Absent of technique, but so full of hunger; his tongue parting and swirling wherever he pleases in that moment. As rhythmless as he is, he’s overtly sloppy -- wet clicks livening the silent room.

Billows of loose breath echoing. You sigh as he whimpers into you. Your weight jostling over his face as he bucks wildly into his tight fist -the resulting gasp only makes him thrust up harder.

“Ah, Daisuke,” pure instinct encourages you to reach down and wrangle his hair, keeping him still for you to grind down and fuck his face. Swirling your hips for that wet friction and Daisuke puts up no fight: only moaning louder into you. Vibrations making you shudder and weep again, “Ah- Daisuke!”

He croons beneath the praise, thumbing the soaking head of his cock while tongue-fucking you open. Desperately stretching his neck to nuzzle deeper into you with his own mewls leakier than a broken faucet. The messy sound of his clenched fist rapidly working his cock grows louder -- you glance over your shoulder to find him shiny with precum. Hand a mere blur over his thick erection. Ruby head peeking at you with every thrust until pearly ropes are painting his knuckles -- some more ambitious shots flying onto your back.

You’d somewhat expected him to slide back like some content, melty goop.

Daisuke surprises you when he smears cum over you whole before using it as lube to slide in, nearing knuckle deep. He moans in time with you as if he can feel it -or maybe just because feeling you clench around him is that good.

“God,” he whimpers beneath you, fingers curling inside you, “I could die down here…”

It might’ve been alarming, if he hadn’t said it so dreamily.

Maybe you’ll let him go down on you more often, if he’s always going to be so eager.

[mayasikeu]

Phone sex with jake

Just imagining that it's your ovulation week and your hormones are going crazy to the point where you can’t think about anything else other than sex

It was at the end of your ovulation week when Jake had just arrived in LA for kcon and he facetimed you as soon as he got to his hotel. To your disadvantage Jake had been too busy to meet with you all week so you saw this as your only chance. Even though the time difference was big you told him you would stay up waiting for his call. You were desperate. “Hey baby I miss you so much, I wish you could be here with me”

“Me too, it’s so boring without you here”. The whole week just consisted of you fingering yourself imagining it was Jake’s hand. But your small dainty fingers could never compare to Jake’s. He could literally make you cum multiple times with just his fingers alone.

When he would finger you it would send you into another universe, like your mind would go completely numb. He would shower you with dirty praises that would make your head spin. Jake always wore rings when he fingered you because he knew how much you loved the feeling. The cold metal from the rings on his long fingers brushed against your clit as he aggressively pumped them in and out of you. Waves of pleasure spread throughout your body to the point where you wouldn’t be able to speak properly.

After a while of you and Jake just chatting, your mind couldn’t help but notice how you could see the shape of his cock through his grey sweatpants. You felt so guilty and pervy for noticing that while you both were just having an innocent conversation over the phone but you couldn’t help it. Jake would have been considered an idiot to not have noticed the way you kept looking down at his cock. He would shift in his seat manspreading as leaned back giving you a better view of his lower body.

“You look so sexy right now, why don’t you stand up and twirl for me” You purposely wore his favourite lingerie pyjama set because you knew how much it turned him on seeing you in it. The laced shorts barely covering your ass cheeks and your nipples being clearly visible since you had no bra. “You wore that for me didn’t you?”. You nodded in response. At this point you couldn’t care less about how pathetic you seemed. “Has my baby been that needy without me?” he cooed

“Yes, I need you so bad Jake” you begged him, your eyes filled with desperation and need. Jake loved seeing you like this.

“Now be a good girl and strip for me”. You immediately obeyed him and took off your pyjamas slowly, wanting to tease him. Jake bit his lip enjoying the view of you stripping as he adjusted in his seat again due to his growing boner. “Show me that pretty pussy baby”

You positioned the camera to your lower body giving him a perfect view of that area as you slowly took off your underwear. “Fuck baby” he moaned out as he began to rub his bulge.

“Play with it for me” he demanded, which again you immediately obeyed. You slowly began rubbing yourself in the room that was filled with sounds of your wetness and quiet moans. Jake pulled his pants down to reveal his black calvin klein boxers, the ones you loved. You could see how big his cock was and when he pulled it out the tip was overflowing with precum. He slowly started fisting his cock, moaning with each pump. “Fuck, i wish it was your pussy instead of my hand” he groaned as he leaned back again trying to get more comfortable.

“I’m gonna cum Jake” you whimpered as you began rocking your hips to the sight of him fisting his cock while he told you all the dirty things he’s going to do to you when he gets home. “You can’t cum yet princess” he wanted to edge you until you couldn’t take it anymore. “You're gonna cum for me when I tell you to, understood?”

“Answer me”

“Yes” you could barely speak

“Good girl”

You and Jake were both panting as you both were getting closer and closer. “I’m gonna cum fuck” Jake said. “Cum for me now princess, you can do it” the pet name making you immediately cum without warning. Jake followed you as he came all over his hand, his strokes becoming slower.

[skeltnwrites]

The Shape of Family ‧₊˚❀༉

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

part two - at the rec center's fall festival, you and steve finally make plans to hang out 11k

a/n - how did this end up twice as long as the first chapter this was supposed to be a short one!! general warnings/tags here

─�� .✦

Utah’s pretty this time of year. Fall is in full swing. The maple and cottonwood mellow into rich shades of orange, there is a constant crush of leaves underfoot, and the crisp scent of pine needles mingle with the breeze. Your neighbors go all out to decorate. Pumpkins are for sale on every corner and the apple orchards buzz with families for the harvest. This kind of weather has every brush of sunlight feeling like a hug you didn’t know you needed. 

The rec center hosts an annual fall festival, bringing hayrides, corn mazes, and costume contests. And though you wouldn’t normally volunteer on a Sunday, Steve’s hard to say no to. It’s not like he begged you or anything, a half-shrug and simple “If you want to” was enough convincing. 

You’d volunteer with or without Steve. You have the time and the goodwill and thus it’s a cork on the end of your monotonous work-week. But there’s no denying that Steve makes it a hell of a lot more enjoyable. He’s the sunrise after a long night, guiding you into the days ahead. And yeah, maybe you’re romanticizing too much. Too caught up in the way his tongue sticks out when he’s concentrating or how he mumbles to himself when he forgets you’re near. But working with him is delightful, nonetheless. 

You and Steve are friends now. Well, work friends. You’ve never actually hung out outside of the rec center but there isn’t a Friday that one of you doesn’t mention it while you eat lunch in his office. You’ve learned trivial little things about him, like his favorite brand of pen, the store he buys his groceries from, and how he likes his coffee– hot enough to burn, with as much sugar as he can get away with without attracting strange looks. You ask about Penelope often and he’s very open; eager to rant and rave about the latest details of their lives. She visits every now and then, usually too sick or naughty to be at school. So you’ve come to know her just as much. That she loves Barbies and Salt-N-Pepa and insects but not the furry ones. 

Being in each other’s lives is routine at this point– parking beside his car, leaving sticky notes on his desk, setting your bag in his office. It would be crazy to say you love him, you don’t, obviously, but you feel like you could. And you know you’d be devastated if he left the center. Your shift assignments are arranged so they almost always thread with his.

He’s always hated asking for help, but then you came, puttering into his office with a lovely smile and open arms and suddenly it’s not so bad. He’ll ask for your assistance on more projects than not: your advice, your creative eye, your hands to hang something that he most certainly could do alone. 

Like now, you trail only a few paces behind Steve, cradling a wicker basket full of decorations. He billows a tablecloth over the nearest picnic table, considering your dispute over the best holiday. 

“I dunno, I’m more of a Christmas guy,” Steve shrugs, smoothing out a ripple in the fabric. “The music is just inarguably better. You get to open presents and eat delicious food. Not really a contest in my book.” 

You hum, centering a plastic pumpkin. 

“Penelope is like the queen of Halloween, though.” The corners of his eyes crinkle with mirth. “This morning, she told me she wished she was born on Halloween so she could go trick-or-treating on her birthday.” 

You wear a similar expression, gaze flicking over to Penelope. She’s not far, crouched in a strip of dirt, parting a pile of leaves to search for ladybugs and other creatures. “I bet she’s excited for all that candy.” 

“That’s all she’d eat if I let her. I’ve already scheduled a dentist appointment for her in November– But, I’m just as bad, she gets her sweet tooth from me,” he admits. 

“Figured. The amount of Reese's wrappers I find in your trash.” 

He squeezes your shoulder playfully, not hard enough that you should need to squirm away but you do. “Whatever. Why are you going through my trash anyway, weirdo.” 

You click your tongue, “I wasn’t going through your trash! They are on the top where anyone could see.” 

“Mhmm, whatever you say… dumpster diver.” 

Joan, the youth counselor, whisks over to interrupt with arms full of mason jars before you can retort. Steve smothers his smirk with an answer to her question. Your tongue prods the inside of your cheek to prevent your own. 

It’s like this with Steve, now. Teasing and taunting each other like schoolchildren. A game of tug-of-war, where every knowing glance and light-hearted jab pulls the rope just a little tighter between you. It’s as thrilling as it is nerve-wracking. 

It’s not much later when guests filter into the festival. The earliest glow of sunset mists the courtyard in gold. There’s cider stations and pumpkin carving and a whole bunch of apple bobbers fighting to win a pumpkin pie. Monster Mash bleeds from several speakers lining the trail to the tented area you find yourself in. People dance and laugh and drink. It’s a very successful event for the rec center. 

Steve plops down on the bench across from you, Penelope at his hip. A silent, self-invitation he knows you won’t decline— you enjoy their company more than people-watching. He seems to find you no matter which way you drift, even through a sea of townsfolk. 

A big scoop of chili is spooned from his paper bowl into a second. “Blow on it,” Steve reminds, planting it in front of Penelope. 

She does blow on it, a spray of more spit than air that merits her a shoulder nudge to knock it off. 

Penelope simpers over her steaming food as Steve offers you an apologetic look. Last you saw her, she was waving her way up the stairs to the costume contest. She’s since been bundled up– a tiara traded for a knit beanie and the gown from her dress-up bin crammed underneath a thick sweater and spilling out the hem. 

The string lights bathe their faces in a white glow. It highlights the beauty mark on the slope of Penelope’s cheek, like a half of Steve’s pair in the same spot. It’s not often you get to just enjoy their company. No scrambling about deadlines or standards. It’s a calm you could get used to. But Steve’s always ten steps ahead, already plotting which crew needs the most tending to when he’s finished eating. He’s selfless like that. Your feet ache from running around, but Steve’s probably worse. 

“Penelope, is that what you’re wearing on Halloween?” You ask.

Her chin presses into the neckline of her sweater. “No,” she recalls, mouth full of sauce. “I’m being Dorothy.” 

Steve swipes a napkin across her lips before anything drips. 

“From The Wizard of Oz?” 

“Mhmm,” she grins, popping the spoon out of her mouth. 

“Very cool. Did you get your costume yet?” 

She nods, glancing at Steve, “Daddy made it.” 

Steve’s in his own little world, slurping his belly full of warm food and basking in the second of peace he‘s been given. But he blinks back into reality at your questioning stare, leaning in to hear you over the boisterous laughs of nearby people. 

You try to reel in your surprise, soften your features. “You made her costume?”

“Oh,” he waves a dismissive hand, “I just sewed a shirt to a dress. Nothing fancy.” 

“Still– that’s really cool, Steve.” 

He stirs his food, voice torn with guilt. “I dunno. It’s cheap.” 

“Costumes are better homemade. The ones in the stores are tacky. I bet it looks amazing.” 

Fragments of a smile find his lips, more a peace offering than a true one. 

“I painted my shoes red and I put so much glitter on them so they sparkle,” Penelope adds cheerfully.  

“You did?” 

She nods, shining with pride. 

“It’s been two weeks and I’m still finding glitter everywhere,” Steve comments, more amused than he lets on. He can’t be that mad when they’re little reminders of his favorite person in the world. 

“Are you dressing up?” You ask him. 

He huffs, side-eyeing Penelope. “Yes.” 

A glint forms in her eyes, a sly little smirk beneath. “Daddy is going to be the lion because he’s hairy.”

You laugh and Penelope joins you because Steve has a funny pouty face. 

He rolls his eyes. “Tell ‘em who’s your Toto?” 

“Cinderella!”

“No way!” You match her level of excitement. “Does she have a costume?” 

“No, but I have a basket for her to sit in.” 

You coo, “I bet Cinderella will love that.” 

Steve snorts because he knows you know Cinderella will in fact not love that. 

Cinderella is supposedly the grumpiest animal he’s ever met. She was a quick, unfortunately painful, lesson on boundaries for Penelope– not to pet certain areas or animals as a whole. Steve described her as an old, scraggly thing with a temper flaring unpredictably from one moment to the next. He wasn’t a cat person to begin with, growing up in a house with no animals probably started his revulsion to having fur on his clothes; but at two and a half, Penelope begged to feed the stray on their porch and she just kept coming back. 

Steve wanted a dog when he moved out, if anything at all; but in four years he’s learned more about sacrifice than any speech his parents tried to drill into his head. And Cinderella is practically Penelope’s best friend now. She sets aside birthday money for new cat toys– the crinkly ones are her favorite– and sneaks the cat through her bedroom window from time to time. She even cradles her like a baby, not without protest and the occasional scratch, of course, but Penelope knows the risk. 

“I told her Cinderella probably won’t want to come trick or treating but she can still take a picture with her at home.” 

“I told you she will want to go because there’s candy.” 

“Yes, but I told you cats can’t have candy,” Steve jabs her side lightly. 

Penelope only pouts. “That’s sad. I think she would like candy.” 

“It is,” he agrees, slotting a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. “But it makes them sick, remember? So we can’t share with Cinderella.” 

Her cheek melds with his sleeve, begrudgingly agreeing with a sigh. “Can I get my face painted?” 

Steve traces her line of sight to the ring of kids swarming the face painter. It’s not far. He can see well enough to recognize most of the children. Many are younger than Penelope too. 

But Steve hesitates, “Can you wait until I’m done eating? I’ll go with you.”

“Daddy,” she whines, pinching his arm hair. “You take forever.”

Penelope’s got magical little eyes. You don’t know how Steve ever says no. 

“I can take her,” you offer, stacking trash on your plate. “I’m done anyway.” 

“No, it’s okay.” He deflates with a sigh, curling into his ribs so he can see her face. “You can go by yourself–”

Her frown washes away just as fast as she peels herself off of his arm. 

“But! You have to come straight back when you’re done and you have to stay where I can see you. ‘Kay?” 

“‘Kay!” She beams, nearly tripping on her dress as she swings her legs over the bench and breaks into a run. 

Steve can’t hide the wobble in his smile as hard as he tries to be strong. Most of the hardships he’s faced as a parent are foreign to you, but clearly, this isn’t easy for him. 

“She’ll be fine,” you reassure with a ginger squeeze to his wrist. “We aren’t far if she needs something.” 

He nods, still locked in on Penelope. “I know, I know. I’m trying really hard not to be a helicopter parent as she gets older. It sucks though, feeling like she doesn’t need me anymore.” 

“Steve,” you deadpan, prying his attention back. “That’s… silly. You’re her dad, of course she still needs you. Maybe not all the time or as much but she’ll always need you.” 

“I dunno. I feel like she grows an inch every time I turn around. I never thought I’d say this, but I actually miss when she was in diapers. She’s cute now, but God was she cute then.” He chuckles to himself, eyes swinging from Penelope to you and then back. 

“I believe it,” you grin, admiring his girl. Her cheeks are red from the cold, like two tomatoes framing her lips. She might like to wear your jacket, you consider, but she’s so small, perhaps she’ll overheat from too many layers.

Penelope scrambles into the chair when it’s her turn, talking a mile a minute to the face painter. A funny wave of emotion roves over you. There’s affection and joy and and then something heavier and harder to describe. 

“I’ll have to show you her baby pictures sometime.” You hear the parting of a true smile. “There’s this one– it was her first birthday– I gave her a whole cake and she just demolished it. Had it in her hair and her eyelashes and in between her toes. She was so damn happy.” 

You exhale a happy hum, turning back to Steve. He’s propped on his elbows now, close enough to discern each eyelash from the next. It doesn’t startle you as much as it just scrapes the words right off your tongue. 

He’s reading you, churning, and chasing the right words all in between the blink of an eye. “We should hang out, you know? Like actually– We always talk about it but…” He shakes his head, trailing off. 

He’d let the words be carried with the wind if you wanted. It’s hard to imagine you’d say no, but people have surprised him in worse ways. Just when he thinks he knows someone, truly knows them, they cut him off like he’s no more than a dying branch. The ghosts of past someones and somethings still haunt him. It makes being so forward with you all the more difficult. 

You wear a whimsical sort of grin that you hide behind the brush of your hand, fighting your own flood of emotions. “Yeah– I mean, yeah. When?” 

Excitement flares across his features. “What are you doing on Halloween? You could come trick-or-treating with us?”

“Probably just home handing out candy– but Steve, I don’t want to intrude on Halloween. It sounds really special to Penelope.”

“You wouldn’t! No way, Penelope would be thrilled if you came. She talks about you a lot, you know?” 

“No she doesn’t,” you grin madly into your palm, peering over to her. Her face is dressed in a bright shade of orange now. With her pudgy cheeks, she reminds you of a little pumpkin. 

“She does! Swear it– on my life.” He’s not lying. He can’t hold your eyes when he lies, even about silly things. 

You huff, feeling foolishly giddy. “I don’t have time to get a costume, Steve.” 

“Nonsense. We can find you one. I’ll make it if I have to. The Tin Man and The Scarecrow are still up for grabs.” 

You swallow, washing the sudden dryness from your throat. Why does Steve have to be so damn cute and sweet all at once? “I dunno. Would it be fine if I didn’t dress up?” 

He chuckles dryly. “Penelope won’t have that, I can tell you that much. Plus if I’m going to be tortured into some itchy lion onesie I expect you’ll do the same.” He’s teasing, which is typical for you both, but it’s like you’ve forgotten how. 

“Steve.”

“Come on. If not for me, for Penelope. She’ll love it.” 

“Okay,” you settle. But you aren’t really settling. He could ask you to dress up on any other day of the year and you’d do it. 

Penelope races over– a tabby cat with long whiskers and a pastel pink nose– yelling, “Daddy, look!”

Steve beams at her like he stuck a lightbulb in his mouth, somehow brighter than before. “I see! You look so pretty, princess.” 

“I’m like Cinderella.”

“You are!” He pats her former seat beside him until she sits. 

Her long lashes flutter questioningly. 

“Nell, don’t you think we need, I dunno, like a Tinman or a Scarecrow to go with our costumes on Halloween?” 

She tracks his gaze over to you, adopting your smirk. “Are you coming trick-or-treating with us?” Her voice is uneven and bubbly with anticipation. 

“Do you want me to?” You ask genuinely. 

Penelope’s tongue wriggles in her mouth like she can’t find the proper words to express what she feels. But she nods in this bashful way against Steve’s shoulder that surprises you. 

“Are we being shy now?” Steve remarks, pulling her into his arms effortlessly to peck her hairline. 

“No,” she whines against his sweater, overjoyed to be smothered in love. Dry paint creases with her scrunched face. It’s an adorable sight. You keep wishing you had a camera on you because this is the kind of thing Steve probably puts in his photo albums. 

The moon climbs the sky quickly, draping the party in a silver veil. Many stay for the campfire and the promise of smores. But the later it gets, the crankier kids become for their parents. Penelope’s no exception, whining and clinging to Steve until he agrees to hold her. And he tries to work still, but his arms are starting to burn and stamping hayride tickets isn’t easy one-handed so he makes the hard choice to leave before cleanup. 

He feels awful, apologizing to several of his coworkers on the way out but most are too drunk on cider or too high on festive cheer to care. Besides, he’s paid a salary, doing this out of the kindness of his heart. He has no obligation to be here– you’d reminded him of that multiple times. But the festival does feel empty when they leave, even with half the town still around. 

ᯓ★

Steve lives in a quiet pocket outside of town on a curvy, secluded stretch of road. The directions he’d scrawled out on a receipt weren’t as useful as you’d hoped as one of the street names you were intended to turn on was smudged beyond legibility. But you made it, parked in front of a white house with a similarly white picket fence. Steve’s beamer is idled to your right. It’s strange seeing it somewhere that’s not the rec center. But it’s a familiar comfort between so much new. 

There’s a tire swing knotted to the oak tree in the yard, a collection of painted rocks in the pebble-lined path up to the house, and two carved pumpkins set outside the door, caving in on themselves but not yet rotting. A lot of love is shared here.  

Penelope answers the door when you knock. She’s half dressed– stockings hugging a pair of fleece leggings and a flowy pajama tank top. Her eyes outline your costume and light up with approval. 

You sport a flannel and denim overalls stuffed with prickly straw straight from the local farm, courtesy of Steve. But Penelope ogles your face paint more than anything– a stitched grin and two circles for blush. You hope it’s not scary looking. 

She doesn’t know how to let you inside– she’s not supposed to answer the door after all– so she hangs clumsily off the door handle until you ask, “Can I come in?” 

“Yes,” she teeters out of the way, closing the door behind you with a sweeping grin— the mischievous kind that makes you wonder what she’s up to.

The foyer is situated between the living room and kitchen, both of which are missing Steve. 

“Where’s your dad?” 

“Umm. Cleaning?” 

“Oh. Are you getting ready to go?”

“Yes, but I can’t find my shoes,” she makes a strangled face and shrugs with her entire wingspan.

“Do you want me to help you look?” 

She nods, “I think they’re in my closet.”

Penelope sprints up the stairs easily, leaning over the railing at the top until you hesitantly follow. You hope he won’t mind. You were technically let in. 

It reeks of chemicals upstairs. You stifle a cough and hope it’s Steve, not some science experiment in Penelope’s room. But you don’t worry long. The culprit swings around the corner, juggling several bottles of solutions and sprays. Steve would’ve barreled straight into you had you not thrust your arms out in defense, but still, all his things scatter across the floor. 

“Christ, you scared me.” He kneels, tucking a roll of paper towels against his chest. “Nell, you can’t answer the door without me.” 

“I looked in the window.”

You hand him a sanitizer and shimmy your hat back into place. It’s too big and far too floppy, sagging over your brows no matter how you situate it. Amusement draws his cheeks up as he realizes. You look ready to plop yourself in the middle of someone’s crops and he’s in a tee and jeans you might find him in any other day. His smiley-staring only makes you feel sillier. 

“The straw’s really a nice touch, huh?” Steve teases, picking a sandy stem from your collar with his free hand. He’s got that smirk you so often find on Penelope’s lips. 

You yank the strand from his grasp and poke the column of his throat with it. “I’m definitely more itchy than you’ll be.” 

His fingers encase the entirety of your fist like a shell. They’re knobby and mannish, stout against your own. But there’s a tenderness to his hold as he eases your fist away. You don’t push back, though you contemplate it. He’s never touched you for so long; he’s basically holding your hand. 

“Could’ve been the Tinman,” he says, releasing your fingers at your thigh. 

You suck in, like fuel for a reply, and exhale a breathy, nervous laugh. “And paint my entire body gray? No thanks.” 

He chuckles, eyes darting behind you. “Well, you look great. You like it, Nell?” 

You’d almost forgotten she was there. She’s quiet as a mouse when she wants to be. 

Penelope bobs her head behind you, patiently watching from the doorway to her room. “I have oh-ralls like that.” 

“You do,” Steve confirms, fidgeting with the nozzle on the disinfectant bottle. It reminds you of the smell. 

“You kill someone?” 

He stiffens. “What?” 

You flick the bottle of Windex, serious facade fading. “Smells like you’re trying to cover it up.” 

“Oh! No,” his shoulders soften, “Just a little spring cleaning… in fall.” 

You hum gaily. “I like your house.” 

“You do?” His voice is light, buoyant with relief. “I can give you a tour. A proper one.” 

“I would but I’ve promised a patient little lady I’d help her find her shoes first.”

Penelope beams when you glimpse at her. “I think they’re in my closet,” she shares with Steve. 

“I think so too,” he says, eyeing past her. “What happened to cleaning?” 

“I was but I had to find my costume first.” 

“It’ll be easier to find when your room’s clean.” He sends you a look, “Don’t let her trick you into cleaning for her. She’s sneaky.” Steve whispers the last part, loud and teasing. 

“I’m not sneaky!” 

“Mhmm. I’ll go get ready and then come help you, Nell.” 

“Then trick-or-treat?” 

“Yes,” he starts down the stairs, “Yell if you need me.” 

Penelope tows you into her room by the arm, unphased by the clinking of toys crammed behind the door. Anything in her way gets kicked or shoved aside without a second thought. It’s like her toy chest exploded, a kaleidoscope of pink and purple across the carpet. And no wonder it’s a mess; she starts chucking things out of her closet, adding to the pile spilling out like an avalanche—books, stuffed animals, barbie dolls, baby dolls, and so so many clothes. 

You squeeze by a play tent, scanning the floor. 

“They’re red and sparkly, ‘member?” Penelope calls from behind her closet doors. 

You tip a beanbag over with your foot, “I remember.” 

She babbles to herself as she looks, just like Steve does– little hums and scraps of thought that are hard to catch. It’s a funny thing, to see it translated from one human to another. 

It doesn’t take long to find the shoes, wedged underneath her bed with numerous other things. You go prone against the floor to dig them out and hold them up by the straps. “These it, Pen?” 

She gasps vibrantly. You wish you got up in time to see her face. 

“How did you know they were under there!” She shrieks, snatching them from you. 

“Just had a feeling,” you sit up properly, happily watching her slip the flats on. 

She practically twinkles, clicking her heels together like Dorothy. 

“They look stunning! You painted these?” 

“Yes,” she skips over to her dresser, shuffling through drawer after drawer. Anything folded surely isn’t anymore. 

“You’re a talented artist.” 

“I know. Daddy says.” Penelope yanks out a blue line of fabric. “My dress is so pretty. I’m going to be the prettiest Dorothy for Halloween.” 

“I know you will! You should give your dad a big hug for making such a pretty dress.” 

She buckles into the costume as fast as she can, patting the skirt down with a satisfied grin when it’s on. 

After several compliments and much debate, you’re able to convince her Dorothy would have a clean room. Penelope puts a few things away, but she’s easily distracted. And it’s hard to blame her with so many toys about. So you do most of the cleaning, but you’re happy to. It’ll make Steve happy– lest he finds out it was you– which makes you happy. 

The floor’s mostly cleared when Penelope decides Steve’s taking too long; it’s time for your house tour, with or without him. And when he doesn’t answer her shout it’s decidedly without him. She shows you downstairs first– the living room, the kitchen, the half bath, her favorite hiding spot underneath the stairs. All the while she explains her very detailed and strategic trick-or-treating plan. Staying out until midnight is the priority, she doesn’t seem to care if it’s past her bedtime, and filling several bags with candy is also high on the list. 

“And this is Daddy’s room.” She jerks the door knob several times before yelling, “Daddy!” 

“What?” Steve calls, muffled. 

“Let us in!”

“I can’t hear you– hold on!” 

Steve unlocks the door donning the promised lion onesie and a pair of sneakers. It’s ridiculous how handsome he looks even with a stupid fur collar and tail. 

“Cute,” is all you manage to say. He takes it as teasing, rolling his eyes, though you really mean it. 

“Can you help me? I can’t get my whiskers right.” He taps the cap of an eyeliner pen against his cheek where he’s drawn two lines. 

“Sure.” You take the stick and follow him through his room to the master ensuite. 

“Wait!” Penelope shouts and waves vaguely at the room. “This is Daddy’s room.”

You pause to look it over, jovially commenting, “Wow! Very nice.” 

And it is nice. There’s a rustic set of furniture striped in blue and green accents; paired well with the framed floral prints above his dresser. And the bed’s made, only slightly surprising, topped with a Care Bear’s quilt you assume is Penelope’s. 

In the bathroom, Steve leans against the counter, arms braced behind him on the sink rim. You shuffle in front of his legs, skimming knees accidentally. He has no abhorrence for physical touch, you know that for certain. He’s touchy with not just you, but everyone in the office. An arm around the shoulder, a pat on the back, a gentle squeeze to the arm– he gives these out like candy on Halloween. But even so, touching him isn’t always easy. It’s vulnerable, runs the risk of rejection. 

Steve smiles at you, ever-patient and encouraging when you stall awkwardly. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. Talking any louder feels illegal when he’s so close. You cup his jaw and steady your opposite hand against his cheek, picturing the line how you want it. 

But just when you press into his skin and flick the pen, Penelope slams a drawer shut, startling you enough to flinch. The ink slants all the way behind his ear like a jagged nail. 

You gasp and recoil, “Shit.” 

Penelope gasps twice as loud and Steve crumples into laughter, even more so when he turns to view the damage in the mirror. 

“Oops,” you chuckle nervously, thumbing at the black streak. “This washes off right?” 

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ve redone it like four times.” 

You douse your finger in water and work the pad across his happy cheek gently. 

He’s watching you. You don’t see, just feel it in the fringe of your peripherals. It’s not like he has many places to look when you’re a hair’s breadth from his nose. But he might as well press a magnifying glass against your face, point out every pore and blemish and hair you're insecure about. 

Your cheeks burn and the beginning prickles of sweat coat your upper lip. You brushed your teeth before you arrived, but how could you forget a mint? And what about an extra layer of deodorant? That wouldn’t have hurt. You glance at Steve anxiously and his eyes jump to Penelope. For once you’re grateful not to keep his attention. 

Penelope digs through his cabinet on a quest to find nothing in particular. 

You pull away to judge your first line as Steve opens his mouth. “Nell, go get your brush and hair ties.” 

The top half of her face pops up over the cupboard door like a puppet. “But I want my hair down.” 

“I still have to brush it. And I thought you wanted the bows?” 

She considers his words– her prior words– brows pinching before she shrugs, “Okay.” The cabinet door thuds against its hinges as it claps shut, and not a second later, Steve’s bedroom door slams as Penelope charges out. 

“You would not believe how often I tell this kid not to slam the doors,” he scoffs, though it’s devoid of any real anger. 

You take his chin again, packing away a grin. You have to focus. “Don’t move,” you prompt. 

He’s relaxed in your hold. Still as a stone, maybe apart from the slight tug of his lips when you resume drawing. 

“Tickles,” he murmurs when you lift the nib. 

You print another three to match the trio on his right. It’s not bad, but you wouldn’t say it’s good. The angles are skewed weird and one’s shorter than the rest. But if he wants them any better, you might not be the best person to ask. 

“How’s that?” You draw back, searching for any smudges. 

He spins, briefly inspecting his reflection before facing you again. “Perfect! Thank you!”

Perfect is definitely a stretch. 

Steve’s a perfectionist. You’ve seen it innumerably in the office. How he’ll spend hours revising something only to ruminate on an insignificant detail after. And with Penelope, every parenting decision is subject to endless second-guessing, as if her health and happiness hinges on the smallest nuances. 

But as much as he’s a perfectionist, Steve would never judge you in the same way he might himself. Your whiskers truly are perfect in his eyes, not for the shape or size, but because you drew them– wonky and all. 

The ink warps around his smile. You study his face under the guise of checking your work. Steve’s a handsome guy. An inviting kind of handsome, with shallow laugh lines and the start of stubble stippled across his jaw.  

“Wait,” you square his shoulders, brushing the nape of his neck to reach for his hood. The lion’s mane is laid gently over the top of his hair. 

“Now it’s perfect.” 

He smirks. “Sexy, huh?”

“Should leave this unzipped a little. The cougars will love that.” 

Steve laughs, harder than you think you’ve ever heard him. It’s so contagious even Penelope joins your hysterics when she returns, though she hasn’t a clue what you’re laughing about. 

“What’s so funny?” Penelope lurches into his legs with a handful of hair things. 

“We just think my costume’s kinda silly. Here, baby.” Steve heaves her onto the counter and props her right in between the sinks. 

Her dress pours over her crossed legs like a layered cake, baby blue and white gingham. Steve really did a great job with the stitching; you can’t even tell it was done by hand. And Penelope hasn’t complained about the fit once so it must be comfortable too. 

“Face forward please,” Steve reminds gently for a third time when Penelope twists her neck to speak. 

Penelope frowns at his reflection. “You’re pulling too tight.”

“Sorry. You have to stop moving though.” 

There’s a mild curve to his lips. He’s not aggravated with her fidgeting, in fact, quite the opposite. Maybe because you’re around, he’s in too good of a mood to spoil with something as trivial as his daughter's hair. But regardless, it’s endearing as it is entertaining to care for Penelope. He loves being a dad, even when it’s frustrating. And you can see the love as he braids her hair– how he cards through knots from the ends up and slowly sections off pieces to tackle one at a time. 

“I’m not moving.” Her chin droops as she scratches the polish from her nails. 

Steve cups her jaw, steering it back up. “You are, monkey.” 

“Monkey?” She chortles, seeking your gaze in the mirror to see if you also find the nickname funny. 

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, seizing the rubber band from between his teeth. “Monkeys move a lot.” 

“Do they have tails?”

“Mhmm.”

“You have a tail 'cause you’re a lion.” 

Steve hums and bends back, evaluating his performance. “There. You look so gorgeous, Penelope.” 

And he really has done a great job, especially with all her wiggles. Steve takes a lot of pride in styling his hair– much of his confidence derives from it. And he tries to extend that care to Penelope; to teach her how gorgeous she is and that she deserves to be nurtured. 

Penelope shakes her head disapprovingly. “I’m Dorothy now, Dad.” 

“Oh, sorry.” Steve turns toward you instinctually, happy to catch your smile. 

“You look very very pretty, Miss Dorothy,” you correct. 

She slides off the counter, aided by Steve’s hand. “Can we go now?” 

Penelope waits patiently in the foyer for Steve to gather everything needed to leave. This lasts for all of about ten minutes before Penelope is halfway out the front door, too excited to wait any longer. 

“Wait, Nell!” Steve shouts from beside you in the kitchen. 

You’re choosing snacks and filling water bottles. Steve doesn’t really need to pack a bag for Penelope anymore, she’s a year and a half past diapers, but he likes to feel prepared. 

When Penelope doesn’t answer, he meets her on the porch to explain, “I’m almost done. And we still have to take pictures.” 

“I don’t wanna. I’m ready to leave.” 

“Well, we aren’t leaving until I get a picture of Dorothy.” 

She sighs, lugging herself back inside like she’s got bricks for shoes. “What about Cinderella?” 

“Go and look– get the treats.” 

She scrambles into the kitchen, snagging a jar of cat treats from the counter quickly. You shoulder the backpack and follow her out. Steve joins you not long after, two flashlights and several glowsticks in hand. 

“No Cinderella?” Steve asks, unzipping the bag pressed to your back to stock with more things. 

“No,” Penelope pouts, vigorously shaking the jar in the air. “How can I be Dorothy without Toto.” 

He yanks the zipper back up, then pats her head, “Keep calling. Where’s your jacket?”

“I don’t need it.”

“You will. It’s gonna get cold later. When it’s dark.” 

“It’ll mess up my costume. Dorothy doesn’t wear one.” 

“Let's bring it, just in case. I’ll carry it.” 

Steve jogs back inside, coming out this time with a camera around his neck, a jacket over his shoulder, and a plushie in hand. 

“Here,” he sets a blue stuffed dog on Penelope’s lap. “Backup Toto.” 

Penelope glares up at him, insulted. “This isn’t Toto.” 

“I know. But if we wait for Cinderella we might not have time for trick-or-treating. Why don’t we bring the treats? See if she’s started without us?” 

Penelope deflates, stuffing the dog in her wicker basket. 

“Can I take your picture now?”

“Why, Daddy?” 

“So I can remember how beautiful you look tonight.” 

A petulant bow creases her lips as she peers up. Round, sullen eyes connect with his. 

Steve squats in front of her, taking her much smaller free hand in his. “I know you’re sad about Cinderella but she’d still want you to have fun, right? And she might show up later. I just want to get a picture now so I don’t forget.” 

Penelope nods and Steve kisses her forehead, standing and backing up a few paces. 

“Smile, baby. Please?” He blinks at her through the viewfinder. 

She offers a strangled face– more of a toothy open mouth than a smile; not even close to wide enough to round her cheeks or crescent her eyes like the real deal. But it’s funny and just as cute. Steve snaps a photo and the expression drains from her face as fast as the camera’s flash.

You wander behind Steve and her eyes flick to you. You try funny faces first, frowning so deep your jaw aches, pulling the tip of your nose up like a pigs, winking terribly, but none of it works. Your fingers arch into bunny ears behind Steve’s hair and you stick your tongue out at the back of his head, but still, no dice. 

You have a really awful idea. You’re pretty sure you might die of embarrassment. But it’s worth it to get Penelope to smile. 

“Hey, Penelope? Remember when you told me dinosaurs are silly?” 

She nods. 

“Well, I have a really good dinosaur impression. Can I show you?” 

She nods again, equally jaded. 

You take a deep breath and shake your head, mentally preparing yourself and simultaneously erasing Steve from existence for the moment. A feral screech erupts from the back of your throat, the kind of sound you didn’t know for sure you could make. 

Steve buckles in his crouch, barely catching himself on the pavement with his free hand. A chorus of emotions ripple his features. He’s shocked and then amused and finally focused on capturing the picture, but what resonates the most is a fondness for you. 

You cup a hand over your mouth, rendering a string of different noises, inspired by several animals because what the hell does a dinosaur sound like anyway? You haven’t the faintest clue at the moment.   

Penelope fuses her lips together, unbreaking. 

“Come on Nell, I see that smile,” Steve rallies. 

But she doesn’t give up easy. She’s like Steve in that way. 

As a last resort, you press your lips to your mouth, blowing a raspberry and screwing your face in disgust. “Oh my God, Steve! Did you just fart?” 

He gapes at you, then Penelope, tickled and tongue-tied for comebacks. He can’t think straight, not when you’re making a delightful fool out of yourself, on his behalf, especially. As far as he’s concerned, Penelope’s smiling now or at least failing awfully at hiding it. So he takes several photos of her as she unravels into a giggly heap on the driveway. 

Certainly one of them is photo-album-worthy, but you continue your stunts anyway. “Goodness, what did you eat today?” You backpedal a few steps, fanning the surrounding air, partially to hide your own laugh. “Penelope do you smell that?” 

“Ew! Daddy!” 

You aren’t sure if Penelope actually believes you or if she just wants to join the fun but either way, she’s convincing. 

“I didn’t do it!” Steve defends, dropping the camera on its sling and raising his hands in surrender. “I think it was Penelope this whole time.” 

You gasp. “Penelope!” 

“I didn’t!” She cries, shaking her head aggressively. “I promise, I didn’t!” 

“I dunno. The closer I get the more stinky it smells.” Steve slinks up to her with outstretched hands that threaten tickles. 

She screams when he snatches her up, swearing up and down, “I didn’t, Daddy!” 

He’s well-practiced at being the tickle monster; knows every sensitive strip of skin to target. She was doomed from the start. Giggles spill out in jagged layers punctuated with gasps of air. Steve tickles her all the way down the driveway to the car, out of breath himself by the time he sets her on the trunk. 

Penelope deliriously eyes his hands where they rest on the beamer. 

“You ready to go trick-or-treating, Little Miss Dorothy?” You ask. 

She nods, dimples deepening with mirth.

“Here. Will you start it?” Steve fishes his keys out of his pocket and tosses them to you. “Come on, pretty girl.” 

She slides into her car seat happily, bouncing with excitement as he buckles her in. Steve’s told you before it’s not always so easy. 

“I really didn’t fart,” Penelope says. 

He chuckles, sewing a kiss to her cheek, “I know, baby. We’re just kidding.” 

Steve settles into the driver’s seat, depositing the stack of developed polaroids in your lap. You shuffle through as he backs out, flashing him your favorites; the best is one where she’s planted a hand on her hip and is rolling her eyes. You adore this little drama queen more and more every day. 

The drive’s only a few minutes, just to a denser part of the neighborhood to avoid long stretches with no houses. Steve parks against an empty grass lot behind another car. This area’s already bustling with kids which adds to Penelope’s anticipation. 

“Daddy, look– it’s Minnie Mouse!” 

Steve inspects the crowd through the window. “Yeah, you remember when you were Minnie Mouse?” 

“I was?” 

“Mhmm. You had ears and I painted your face. You were little.” He unbuckles, grabbing the backpack stashed at your feet. 

“Oh. Am I still little?” 

He pauses to melt, just to himself and only a bit. It’s too early to be sentimental– a long night of fun awaits. Steve cranes over his seat to see her face. “Yes, you’re still little. But you’re growing a lot. I think you might be as tall as me, one day.” 

“Nooo,” she giggles, waving her foot at him. 

“I dunno,” he sing-songs back, squeezing her shoe before turning back around. 

Steve distributes a handful of glowsticks, shoving a few extra in Penelope’s basket. You guys start down the block as the sun sinks below the treeline, more than enough time to complete Penelope’s plan which she reminds you of. She takes Steve’s hand, then yours, and it strikes you suddenly how much you appear as a family to outsiders. It’s not an unwelcome feeling, just a strange one. 

At the first house, Penelope knocks hard and declares to the elderly woman who answers, “Trick or treat!” She repeats it, insisting with wide eyes that she deserves two pieces of candy for her double effort. And the woman can’t resist her charm, obliging with a handful of pieces. Steve jokes it off, calls her a bargainer, but you gawk at the interaction. 

At the second house, she points to you and Steve, arguing you deserve candy too since you’re both in costume. And it works, scoring you each a piece that ends up in her tote anyway. By the third, you can’t keep a straight face, her antics are hilariously cute and you compliment Steve for raising such a little mastermind. 

You fall into a routine steadily, loafing along the road with Steve while Penelope trots up to each house. 

“Last year she was Snow White and the year before a cat,” Steve explains when you ask. 

“She likes princesses’.” 

“Less so now but yeah. She used to say she wanted to be a princess when she grew up.” 

“Can’t blame her.” You watch her fondly from afar. She picks a piece of candy off the ground and debates before tossing it in with the others. “What does she wanna be now?” 

“Changes all the time. Last it was a detective.” He beckons Penelope over. “Nell, what do you want to be when you grow up?” 

She fiddles with her basket handle. You’ve done two streets and it’s almost full. You're starting to think you’ll have to buy a pillowcase off of someone.

“Umm… Can I be a trick-or-treater?” 

“What!” Steve flips her braid over her shoulder, “That’s just for one day, goofball.” 

“Well… then,” she hums, squinting at the surrounding swarm of characters and creatures. “Maybe a pirate?” 

You and Steve share a look of amusement. You do that a lot now. It’s instinctual. Finding each other's eyes, even in a room full of people it’s easy. Sometimes there’s just too much joy not to share. 

“Daddy, how many houses are left?” 

“There’s quite a few on this street. You tired?” 

“No. Can I see? I want to count.” 

She doesn’t seem tired to you but Steve’s able to read her with the tiniest details. It’s like he’s got superpowers sometimes– dad superpowers. But maybe he’s just guessing, it’s getting closer to bedtime.

Steve boosts her onto his shoulders with a hefty groan about “getting old” which you bicker over because he’s only twenty-six. 

Penelope counts eleven houses, eight with lights on, but buzzes about a particular home illuminated with rainbow LEDs and a giant spider. And it’s even cooler than she described up close, mansion-like, decked out with spotlights and decorations taller than you and Steve combined.

A motionless clown holds a bloody bucket of candy outside. Their decorations are so extravagant, it’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s fake. But you’re pretty sure the clown just blinked and you make sure Steve’s aware of that, not that he was letting Penelope go alone anyway. 

Steve scoops Penelope up before she gets very far up the driveway despite her complaints. 

“I’m not scared, Daddy,” she assures. And there’s nothing that tells you she is– she’s just as cheery and bright-eyed as before. 

“I know, princess.” He rubs her arm, scanning for other statues with the potential to come alive. “I’m kinda scared, though.” 

She tips her head at him, puzzled because it’s always the other way around. But her arms coil around his neck, a loving press of affection that she learned from him. 

And whether he’s actually afraid to be jumpscared or just subconsciously ingraining in her that it’s okay if she is, you aren’t really sure. Probably both, and either way, it warms your insides. 

The clown cocks its head slowly when Penelope reaches in the bowl. 

She cocks her head back, innocently amused. “Trick-or-treat?” 

The clown nods, pushing the bowl toward her. 

Steve sags just a hair but remains very much on high alert. 

You mouth your appreciation— “Thanks.” Thanks for not scaring my coworker-friends-child who I’ve grown really fond of and would hate to see cry. 

“Daddy, can we go in there?” Penelope points to a tunnel opening, fringed with black streamers and flashing lights– some sort of haunted house walk-through that wraps around the home. 

“No, baby. That’s for big kids.” 

She spots a group of teenagers exit the other side, screaming, laughing, and doubling over each other into the grass. 

“I really wanna go– please, I’ll be so brave. I’m not even scared,” she pleads, flashing him a wobbly frown. 

But there’s no expression she could pull right now that would change his mind, not when he hears a chainsaw buzzing inside. She could throw herself on the ground and kick and cry and he’d still refuse. He knows enough kids that have been traumatized by horror-movie-type creatures and characters; he’ll be damned if his daughter becomes one of them. 

Penelope sulks for a few houses but she has loads more candy to collect and decides not to waste her time for too long. 

“Can you hold this?” She thrusts her basket toward Steve. It’s overflowing at this point; you’ve all started cramming candy in your pockets, hoping it’s cold enough outside that nothing melts. Steve’s been beating himself up for three blocks for forgetting the backpack in the car. 

“Sure,” he says, retracting his hand from his pocket.

But before he takes it, you joke, “Better keep an eye on him. He might eat some when you’re not lookin’.”

Penelope studies him for a long moment before shifting the bag toward you. 

“Penelope! You don’t really believe that do you?” He scoffs, breathily laughing.

You cackle as she shrugs and sprints to the next house. 

Steve bumps your shoulder, snaking a hand in the basket to steal a pack of M&Ms off the top. “Blowin’ my whole operation.” 

“Steve,” you scold and bump him back. “Don’t get me in trouble.” 

“She won’t notice.” He waves you off, tearing the wrapper with his teeth. “But if she does I’m saying it was you.” 

You whack his arm, glowing bright as the moon, “Asshole.” 

Penelope doesn’t complain about her feet aching once the whole night and you know they probably do because yours started hurting forever ago. Surely she gets some kid-sized Oscar for that. And Steve being the great dad he is offers to carry her on the way back to the car anyway. 

“Daddy?” 

Steve hums, hoisting her up where she slips. 

“Can we go trick or treating tomorrow?”

He glances at you, confirming you also hear this cuteness. “No, baby. Tomorrow’s not Halloween.”

“I know, but we should still go. I bet lots of people still have candy. Like, leftovers.” She yawns into his shoulder where his fur hood has been tugged down to warm his neck and double as a makeshift pillow. 

“Don’t you have enough candy?”

“No. I need more Reese’s for you.”

“You’re gonna give them to me?”

“Only some. I like them too.” 

“That’s kind of you.” 

Her eyes are half-lidded and struggling, but she’s still awake as Steve stows her into her car seat. She chatters sluggishly to keep herself up and you and Steve entertain it; it’ll make bedtime easier if she doesn’t fall asleep in the car. Perhaps handing her a pack of Smarties was overkill because apparently, it has enough sugar to wire her longer than the five-minute drive home. 

No slower than Steve can lock the front door, Penelope dumps the contents of her bag on the floor. A bouquet of candy wrappers, big and small, enough to last her months if she’s patient. 

“You can have five more pieces tonight.” 

Penelope smirks at Steve before he’s even finished. “Ten?” 

“Six. But you have to brush your teeth for twice as long.” Before she can rebuttal he shakes his head. “Final offer.” 

“Fine,” she huffs, combing through her pile. She sorts them into categories while Steve prepares her bath. It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown is already on– Steve has a bad habit of forgetting to turn the TV off when he leaves– but you find the remote when Penelope asks you to turn the volume up. 

“You can have these,” she announces, pushing a chunk of her goodies toward you. It’s mostly things she doesn’t like: twizzlers and dark chocolate and anything with peanuts. But she did sneak in one of your favorites you’d mentioned earlier that night. She really is a sweetheart. 

“Thank you, Penelope. That’s very nice of you.” 

“These are for Daddy,” she points to a second pile, smacking loudly on the gummy bear she just decapitated. “He loves chocolate but he got a cavity once because he ate too much.” 

“Are you talking about me?” Steve hollers, clambering down the stairs two at a time. 

“No?” Penelope giggles. 

His hands snap to his hips once he treks into the living room. “Alright, it’s bath time then bedtime Miss Dorothy.”

Penelope looks utterly betrayed. She’s only eaten three things and– “It’s not even late yet,” she whines. 

He pretends to check his watch, “It is.” 

It’s not but she can’t tell time yet. 

“Can we watch Oz, Daddy, please? There’s no school tomorrow, ‘member?”

“We watched it last night, peanut. Why don’t we watch a Halloween movie?” 

Peanut, pumpkin, princess, he calls her all sorts of cute things. Is it wrong to wish he called you cute things too? 

“I wanna watch Oz. I’m Dorothy so we have to.” She drags out the last syllable until she runs out of breath. 

Penelope’s over-tired. Delirious and whiny and easily hysterical when she doesn’t get her way. And it’s not that Steve thinks he should give in when she’s like this, he’s just tired too. And you’re here and it’s the weekend so what will one movie really do? He can guarantee she’ll fall asleep during it anyway. 

“Okay. Only if you’re super-duper fast in the bath.”

She shouts and whizzes upstairs. 

Steve diverts his attention to you, “You wanna stay? I can make popcorn.” 

Of course, you’d love to stay, and not just for the promise of popcorn, but you’re afraid if you do, you’ll never want to leave. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He makes a face– a ridiculously lovely one. “Go sit. We’ll be quick.” 

They aren’t quick but there are photo albums on the coffee table that you’re happy to look through in the meantime. You flick through beats of their life like stills of a movie. There are baby photos, school pictures, movie stubs, plane tickets, and several people you don’t know the names of. It’s weird– getting snippets of things about them you had no idea of. You’re filling the gaps as you go. 

Penelope returns first, frolicking her way to the entertainment center in fresh pajamas. She’s on a mission by the looks of it, making a mess of the VHS collection in the cabinet. By the time Steve arrives, most of the films are splayed across the carpet. 

“Oz is already in, silly goose. We watched it yesterday remember?” 

Penelope drops the tape in her hands, “Oh.” 

Steve hunches over her, slotting the films away one by one. She doesn’t help much, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

Penelope clambers onto the couch beside you and Steve beside her. It’s a long sectional, enough room for several others. But Penelope scoots in right beside you so you're hip to hip. And Steve makes himself comfortable more in the middle cushion than the farthest. 

His onesie has been traded for sweats and his whiskers scrubbed away– though a faded, gray smear crosses his jawline. You consider telling him, or licking your thumb and scratching it away yourself, but it makes you feel less weird to be the only one still in costume so you let it stay. 

“I like these,” you tug the cotton pant leg of Penelope’s outfit. It’s a matching set, frilly and plaid with a black cat stamped to the torso.

She tucks her lower lip away sheepishly and pushes her crown into your shoulder. Her hair's damp, soaking your sleeve cold, but you fawn at the affection more than anything. 

“Did you find that picture? From her first birthday? I think it’s in there.” Steve gestures toward the closed album in your lap with the remote but remains glued to the TV. 

“No, I didn’t finish looking.”

“I wanna see,” Penelope arches over your legs, prying the book open. 

Steve rewinds the film to the start and pauses it so he can look too. 

You thumb the plastic sheet over a recent image of Penelope scrunching her nose at the camera, a riot of stickers across her face. 

“RoRo!” She taps the photo beside it. It’s a haphazard blur, most likely captured by Penelope; you make out the shape of Steve first, then the less angular, slightly shorter person– a woman, RoRo. You think Penelope’s mentioned her before but nothing about the picture rings any bells. 

“Mhmm. That’s Robin. Remember this was at the airport?” 

“Is that when we got pizza?” 

“Yeah!” Steve rubs her arm. “You have a good memory.”  

You turn the page, revealing a set of grainy, blue-tinted photos from the same roll of film. Steve looks young for his age now, but he looked like a baby then. Strangely though when there’s an actual infant in his arms. He was thinner then but even softer in the face. Not unhappy, per se, but maybe missing a lightness he has now.  

“This was on my twenty-third birthday,” he explains. “Look how little you were!”

“Did I eat cake?” 

“No, you were too young, baby.” He chuckles, pointing to another photo. “You tried a banana for the first time in this one.”

“I like bananas.”

“You didn’t used to.” 

Steve and Penelope share slices of their pasts fondly. You study the photos, compare these reflections to the people you find yourself next to. There’s an unexpected pinch in your chest– not getting the chance to know these versions of them, it makes you sad. But it’s a happy sort of sad. You’re grateful to know them now. 

Penelope begs to flip through another album but Steve decides it’ll be too late to finish The Wizard of Oz if they do. His true reluctance stems from how emotional the first one made him– though you’ll pretend not to notice for his sake. 

Steve bets Penelope an extra Reeses that she’ll fall asleep by the time Dorothy meets the scarecrow. It’s unfair, really. You tell Penelope not to pinky promise it but she does. And she loses awfully, yawning within five minutes and startling herself awake within ten. You scoff when Steve starts carding through her hair– her guaranteed snooze switch. It’s evil and you tell him so. So of course, that finishes her off long before Scarecrow makes an appearance; she curls into Steve’s side and digs a heel into yours. Poor girl never stood a chance. 

“She had a lot of fun tonight,” Steve utters. It’s alarming at first, how his voice eclipses the TV like there isn’t a child snoring against his stomach. But she doesn’t stir. He knows she won’t. 

“Did you?” You ask, skating between a whisper and not. 

“Very much. You?” 

“Mhmm. Loads,” you answer without hesitation. It’s possibly the easiest question anyone’s ever asked you. “I think Penelope’s right.”

He quirks an eyebrow against the front of the couch. His cheek is sinking further into the cotton like he might fall asleep. 

“We should go trick-or-treating tomorrow too.” 

His lips wane into a soft smile. If he wasn’t so drained he might laugh too. “What should we be? Penelope has a strict no-repeat costume rule.” 

You hum, scraping your memory for the best costumes you’d seen. There were Power Rangers and Ghostbusters and several Batmen with their Catwomen. But the image of one young family sticks out the most in your mind. A young pair of parents with their son and daughter decked in moody black and white. 

“Addams family?” 

“Who’s who?” 

“She’s Wednesday. Obviously.”

Steve chuckles, accidentally too loud and Penelope twitches against his thigh. He draws her against his chest readily and strokes her spine with the back of his hand. “Obviously,” he whispers. 

“You’re Morticia and I’m Gomez, though.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah. She’s tall and pretty. Strong jawline, kinda sassy. I think you’ll make it work.” 

You’re flirting. You know you are as soon as you say it. And you don’t mean to, it just happens; the words come intuitively as blinking. Your brain does all sorts of crazy things around Steve. 

“You think I’m pretty?” He’s smiling hard. You can’t tell if he’s serious or not. 

“Pretty sassy, yeah,” you deflect. It’s a safer truth than admitting you do think he’s pretty. 

He rolls his eyes. “My mom says Nell gets her attitude from me. Says it’s payback for how I was as a child.” 

You gawk emphatically. “Were you a bad kid Steve Harrington?”

“I wasn’t bad– just needed attention I think.” 

You hum. It’s a little surprising since you know Steve’s an only child to wealthier parents. You’d pegged him to be spoiled in both money and attention.

“Are you close with your parents?”

He shakes his head, “Not really. Talk every now and then.”

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be. I came to terms with it a while ago. Even more after she was born.” He skims his lips against Penelope’s head. “I can’t imagine not being in her life. You know, not really knowing her? Not knowing her favorite things or when she’s hurting or what she’s up to every second of the day. I don’t think that’ll ever change.”  

“She’ll be so grateful to have that kind of relationship when she’s older.” 

“Yeah, maybe. Like way older.” His shoulders droop as he sighs, “She already thinks I’m smothering her. Wouldn’t hold my hand yesterday because she’s ‘too big’ she said.” 

“Already?” You laugh.

“I know!” He groans. “I almost cried.” 

“She loves you. Kids just show it in strange ways.” 

“Yeah… She forced me to hold a slug last week.” 

“You held it?” 

“I had to! She was so excited to give it to me.”

“Aww. You’re a good dad.” 

Steve's eyes caper down and his cheeks pinken. “I’m trying to be.” 

Apart from the movie and an occasional sleep sigh from Penelope, silence swallows the room. It’s a comfortable silence; the kind you only get around people you’ve known forever; It feels like you’ve known Steve your entire life. You have to remind yourself it’s only been a few months. Remind yourself this is the first time you’ve ever even hung out. 

You find yourself drifting to the future. A future, with Steve and Penelope. Vacations and school events and hiking trips and movie nights and so much more. It’s silly. It makes your heart want to rip itself from your chest. 

Steve clears his throat. Your fantasy is only partially dissolved. “I’m gonna take her upstairs. Put her to bed.” 

You lean forward and press into your knees, gearing to stand. “Okay. I should get going. It’s late.” 

“Stay for a minute. I’ll walk you out.”

You have no reason to decline but even if you did, you aren’t sure you would be able to. Saying no to Steve is as hard as saying no to Penelope. They have the same puppy-dog eyes– brown and soft as sun-baked clay. That must be it. 

Steve strains to stand with the added weight. He’s strong but Penelope’s four now and having growth spurts like there’s a race to be the tallest kid in school. She clings to him instinctually, slotting her face into his neck like it was sculpted specifically to be her pillow. Her gangly legs sway against his thighs as he slowly climbs the stairs and disappears onto the landing.  

You don’t notice Steve’s return. He’s much quieter than before, taking softer steps and more calculated movements. He doesn’t have the buffer of his body heat to soothe Penelope back to sleep if she wakes. The palm on your shoulder startles you. 

He whispers an apology from behind the couch, voice sweet and buttery as caramel. You let him guide you the short distance to the front door– expecting it to end there– but he presses into a pair of laced sneakers thrown beside the entry table. 

The night’s chill is jolting, even in your coat. It’s easy to forget the months are slipping into winter when Steve’s around. He radiates warmth, not just in sun-kissed skin and honeyed eyes, but in his tone and his touches and every aspect of his spirit. And it bleeds like a fire. Brushes your cheeks like flames and stirs perpetually in your belly like magma. 

He walks you the entire length of his driveway to your car. Probably would’ve opened the door for you if you didn’t beat him to it. 

“Thank you for inviting me Steve,” you say, lingering in the threshold of your open door. 

“Thank you for coming. I’m really happy you came. So is Penelope.” 

“As much as I am looking forward to The Addams Family next year, we should plan something… maybe a little sooner?” 

“Mmm. Let me check my schedule first,” he teases, rapping his fingers against the roof of your car. 

“Whatever, boss-man.”

You still don’t get in. There’s a stretch of silence, not awkward, just a placeholder for when the right words come. And they don’t. Not tonight anyway. You could hug him? Peck his cheek? Pat his back as he might yours? 

You settle for a safe and simple tight-lipped smile. He appreciates it just the same. 

“See you Friday?” He asks. 

“See you then.” 

Steve guides the door closed after you settle in. He waits until your taillights have completely fizzled out in the shadows of his street to stroll back up to his house. 

He thinks of you as he locks the front door and again as he finds your hat on the sectional and a third time as he slips under his sheets. Steve isn’t sure what to do. He feels sick. His heart is hammering and his gut twists itself in knots like it does when he’s afraid. He hasn’t quite figured out what about you is so scary but how can he possibly wait until Friday to find out? 

[innerfare]

Luffy NSFW // Smut Compilation 

Summary: A compilation of Luffy smut from my multi character posts (Kisses, Going Down On You, Sex Toys, Blowjobs, Playing With Your Nipples, Mirror Sex).

Genre: Pure Smut

CW: NSFW // sloppy kisser Luffy, toys, oral sex (Luffy giving and receiving), greedy Luffy

———

Kisses: 

So greedy, probably the greediest kisser in history. Uses lots of tongue, too. Grabs you by the hair and jerks your head back so he can better shove his tongue down your throat. The sloppiest kisser known to man, not that anyone would ever know. He always gives you sweet pecks when there are others around that leave them unaware of just how hot and heavy it gets behind closed doors. Gets annoyed if you try to kiss all over his face and bats you away, but if you want to rile him up, this is most definitely the way to go. 

Going Down On You: 

As soon as the two of you are alone, he’s pushing your legs apart. Often times, he doesn’t even take your clothes off, just pushes what he can to the side and buries his face in your pussy. He eats you out like an all you can eat buffet and comes back for multiple rounds. 

He slurps so loud- comically loud. 

“So tasty,” he’ll mutter. “I could eat this for hours.” Sometimes he does. He doesn’t stop when you cum, he stops when he’s had his fill, no matter what time it is. 

Sometimes, he’ll wake up in the middle of the night ravenous. If you’re wearing panties, he rips them off, so you’ve learned to sleep naked. Half asleep, he’ll bury his face between your legs until he’s had his fill, lapping tiredly at your folds, humming and groaning while he does it. If you try to squirm or get away, he gets super annoyed.

“Stop it,” he grumbles in that slight raspy voice of his, lips glistening with your juices. “I don’t care if you’re tired, I’m hungry.” 

What Luffy wants, Luffy gets. 

If the two of you were stranded on an island together, he probably wouldn’t even hunt for food. He’d just strip you down on the beach and pin you with his face between your legs until the two of you were rescued. At times, he even prefers eating you out to fucking you. 

Sex Toys: 

Finds your vibrator while rooting through your things one day (privacy, what’s that?), has no idea what it is until you sheepishly explain it to him. Laughs hysterically, is so excited, immediately wants to use it on you. He’s pulling your panties off before you’ve even gotten over the embarrassment of him finding it; you won’t even make it to the bed, he’ll just pull you onto the floor and have at it (a common occurrence with this man). His new favorite thing is to tongue fuck you with a vibrator against your clit. He’s open to butt plugs and nipple clamps, but they’re not really his thing. Doesn’t like you using toys on him, though, claims a cock ring makes him feel like he’s wearing clothes (and Luffy hates wearing clothes). 

Blowjobs: 

Goes a little crazy when you wrap your lips around him, moaning and groaning, his voice extra raspy, can’t stand it when you tease him. And he counts anything to do with his balls as teasing because they're so sensitive. "That's not fair!" He’ll grab your hair to control the pace, pulling your mouth up and down his throbbing cock. Doesn’t mean to be such a control freak, just can’t help himself. He’s so fucking greedy, it’s unreal. Never cums from a blowjob anywhere but in your mouth, and he really wants you to swallow. His favorite thing in the world is when his cum spills out of your mouth and you need a little help cleaning it up. He’ll swipe his thumb across your chin and chuckle when you suck the cum from his finger. This will probably lead to a second blowjob (multiples are not unusual with this man), probably with the two of you 69ing. 

Playing With Your Nipples: 

This is an act in and of itself. He can be pretty insular in that he only does one thing at a time because he gets so lost in it, and playing with your nipples is no exception. That being said, he can’t actually hold back, usually tweaking them slowly for what feels like ages but is really only a few seconds before finally going in with his watering mouth. Has a habit of talking with his mouth full, muttering things against your tits like, “could do this for hours.” When he does eventually move further down your body, he’ll keep his fingers on your nipples.

Mirror Sex: 

Mirror sex is also morning sex with Luffy. You wake up before him in the morning and shuffle into the bathroom to brush your teeth, and the next thing you know, he’s behind you in the mirror. Eyes still bleary, black hair ruffled from sleep, he bends you over when he only just fucked you the night before and rubs his morning wood against your opening. “Don’t stop,” he tells you when you put your toothbrush down, “I won’t take long.” The problem is, he’s lazily rubbing his finger over your clit while he pushes into you, making it impossible for you to pay attention to anything else. He fucks you slow to begin with, and you try to keep going through your morning routine in front of the mirror, but the sight of your face contorting with pleasure wakes Luffy up, and before you know it, you’re clinging to the sink while he snaps his hips into you. When he finishes, he places a hot, sloppy kiss on your neck before reaching for his own toothbrush like nothing happened. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[crybaby-bkg]

“I’m terrified of trying those hitachi wands,” you offhandedly mention one night in a quiet laugh, while laying in bed beside Bakugou. you’re both on your phones, one last scroll before bed, even though he’s actually playing one of those old people games. he looks over, hair pushed back by a clip he stole from you.

“Why would you be scared?” he asks you, completes the last two moves of the game before he closes his phone and sets it on the table beside the bed. he turns all of his attention on you then, rolling over to his side to face you, and you do the same.

“Because those things are damn near weapons with how they render people useless for like, twenty minutes after they cum.” you snicker, thinking back on the video you had seen earlier in the day. the lady damn near ruined her phone with the wetness, and could hardly move for a good minute after.

Bakugou only stares at you, doesn’t say anything for a long while, but he has this look on his face. he’s thinking about something, but doesn’t open his mouth until he’s whispering,

“That’s crazy,” he kisses your forehead and mumbles an I love you before he rolls over and pulls the covers to his head. you only blink in confusion before you chalk it up to him being the shy little prude he’s always been, and lay down yourself.

the conversation goes forgotten as the weeks pass on, something you don’t dwell on much afterwards. but obviously, it hasn’t passed Bakugou’s mind at all.

“I got it in pink.” he tells you one night after he’s wined and dined you. that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him, but what was weird was how jittery he had been the entire time. this was why, surely, when he leads you to the bedroom and opens a neat little box with one of those wands you had completely forgotten about sitting prettily in front of you.

“Katsuki!” you laugh, hands covering your mouth before they cover your eyes in a mix of shame and shyness. “Why do you wanna see me laid out and twitching after using that thing?” you softly punch his shoulder, looking between his reddened cheeks and the wand he holds in front of you like an engagement ring.

“It’ll be hot.” he shrugs, mouth twisting this way and that in uncertainty, before he looks at you from under his lashes. “Wanna try it out?”

“Of course I do.” you answer back just as quickly, stripping from your clothes even quicker. it makes Bakugou laugh, taking his shirt off and his pants too, just to be safe in case you become a slash zone.

he tries it first with him sitting between your legs, just holding the wand there. he looks between your legs and then to your eyes, starting on a low setting and watches how you twist and thrive in the silken sheets. and when you cum, he thinks he can push you a little further.

he ups the vibrations, adds two of his fingers inside of you, crooking them until he finds that soft spot inside of you that makes you absolutely sob. you squirt all over him and he wonders if he should take his boxers off too (he doesn’t though; the thought of finding them tomorrow stained in you makes him damn near burst in his pants).

the next position is in front of your mirror on the closet, with your legs spread over his. Bakugou hooks his chin over your shoulder, holds your twitching thighs open as he keeps turning the vibrations up to the highest settings. you’re squirming and whining and whimpering for mercy, even though you cry even more whenever he stops.

the next time and the next time and the next, he’s got more fingers inside of you, his cock, another one of your favorite toys. he sets you in doggy style, even though he doesn’t fuck you, but keeps the wand between your legs. he likes the way your entire body shakes beneath him, collapsing, trapped between his weight and the strong vibrations that send you into another dimension.

the next day, you can barely feel between your legs, shaky and unstable for the whole day. but Bakugou makes up for it; he always does.

[fallstaticexit]

Ahhh it's been 65 years, and I feel kinda crazy that I've had this sitting in my drafts for like 2 months. Assuming most readers of Missing Moments are also The Art of Being Seen readers- there's some hefty lore here that will come into play later.

prev/ next

Olive: Time to move on, right Kia?

[phone pings]

Nancy: Hello darling. Do you have a moment to talk?

Olive: Who’s this?

Olive: I don’t recall saying yes.

Nancy: [sighs] It feels so good to hear your voice again.

Olive: I only answered to tell you to block me.

Nancy: I would never.

Olive: Even though I asked?

Nancy: Well. I am incredibly selfish.

Olive: Why did you call me?

Nancy: I would like to see you, Olivia. Please.

Olive: I’m not for sale, sorry.

Nancy: I know. I wouldn’t want to meet on those terms again. If I could do it all over, I would have asked you to have dinner with me when I met you. I would have courted you properly, Olivia.

Olive: [scoffs] You would have gone to a strip club and asked a stripper to have dinner with you? Seriously? When would we have ever met under any other circumstance? It’s been made very clear to me how different we are. The only way this would have happened was if it were a fairy tale.

Nancy: What matters is, I have met you. I’ve experienced you and I can’t go back. My husband- my ex husband- he signed the petition for our divorce. I came out to him- officially. It’s over.

Olive: [stunned] That’s- that’s great. I am so happy for you-

Nancy: I’m leaving all of it. I’m starting over. All I want is you, if you’ll have me.

Olive: [sighs]

Nancy: Let’s just have one dinner and after we’ve talk, then you can decide. There’s so much I want to say, but I want to look you in the eyes as I say it.

Olive: One dinner?

Nancy: One dinner.

Nancy: May I see you tonight? I’ll send my driver and I’ll cook for you at my place. Anything you like.

Olive: Tonight is fine.. sure.

Nancy: [sighs happily] It’ll be hard not to kiss you the moment I see you-

Olive: Not too much, lover girl. It’s one dinner and I’m still very annoyed with you about all this, ok?

Nancy: Yes, my love. I’ll see you tonight.

Olive: And don’t look at me like that. It’s just dinner and a conversation, ok? I am not going to sleep with her ok?

Malcolm: Well. Now I see why my mother was so willing to ruin an entire empire over you. Those mugshots did you no justice.

Olive: What is this? Where’s Nancy?

Malcolm: I noticed our driver was heading this way, I figured I’d tag along. Sight see. Get in. Let’s chat.

Malcolm: I wonder if this feels like dejavu to my mother. She makes yet another thoughtless mistake and someone comes along to make it all go away. She has a nasty habit of that, you know.

Olive: Listen. I’m not feeling whatever family drama you all have going on. I don’t want to talk to you. I want to talk to Nancy.

Malcolm: I was raised by a narcissistic liar and a spineless coward. If I let this company fall apart, then wouldn’t it all had been for nothing?

Olive: [scoffs] So you want pity? I’m suppose to pity you? Give me a break.

Malcolm: Not pity, no. If anything, I pity you.

Olive: Is that right?

Malcolm: When it comes to success, you pale in comparison to your half siblings. You’ve financially crippled your parents in legal fees since your arrest and all you have to show for it is by shaking ass in a low end strip club in the Spice District. That’s right, I know alot about you Olivia Briar.

Malcolm: I know about that quaint little family of yours down in the country. I know about your niece’s struggling restaurant and her undocumented partner. Funny, he’s able to acquire loans under a fake name but there’s no records of a Noa Briar anywhere. I wonder what else your family is hiding.

Olive: [shaken] What is this about? Are you threatening me? What the fuck do you want?

Malcolm: I’m here to help you, not hurt you. One of the greatest lessons I’ve ever learned was the power of the dollar. I can make a lot of your problems go away with one deposit if you do just one thing.

Olive: [softly] ....What?

Malcolm: We’re going to turn around and park in front of your building. You’re going to go upstairs, pack up your things and then, you’re going to go back home to sweet old Henford. You’ll pay your parents back with the money you’ll receive from this arrangement and you’ll help your niece and nephew. All your problems - poof- gone.

Malcolm: All you have to do is walk away, and stay away. You see, my mother has a nasty debt to this family she still needs to pay. Don’t make it your burden.

[seungfl0wer]

list 1: 18, 30, 59 is driving me insane, it doesnt matter which member honestly 😭

*Didn’t Know You’d Like That*

Pairing: Jisung x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Choking, Hair Pulling, Biting, Breeding, Creampie, Unprotected (P in V), lots of dirty talk. Think that’s all? (Not Proof read)

Prompts are: 18 “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” 30 “Sit” 59 “I didn’t know you liked that”. All of these are from my first prompt list (Here) I also have a second prompt list (Here)

Ugh it took me a bit to figure who I wanted to do I saw you’ve been getting wrecked by 3racha so figured to do one of them. Hope you enjoy it cause I really really did.

-🩵

Jisung sat across from you while you both played a card game. You’ve beat him the last 3 rounds, you definitely were feeling a little cocky about it too. “Ji you kinda suck” you teased pushing him with your foot you had against him under the table. “Excuse me” he scoffed tickling your foot. “I just think you’re cheating, plus there’s nothing to gain from winning.” He shrugged.

“So you don’t wanna win cause there’s nothing to gain? Wow really been hanging with Minho to long huh” you laughed. He chuckled at your words then a light bulb went off in his head. “I have an idea to make it more fun” he smiled a devilish smile “how about whoever loses next has to do a strip tease for the other.” That smug smile across his face dared you. He knew you were competitive so he knew you’d do it however what you didn’t know was this man was 100% hustling you. He was actually really good at this game and now that there was something to win he was gonna go for it.

You looked at him for a brief moment “Ji just tell me you’re horny.” You teased rolling your eyes “bet though, I’ll kick your ass again” you said with a smug smile. “I’m a man always am horny” he shrugged as he dealt the cards. You picked your hand up smirking at the cards thinking you had this in the bag. However it was so hard to read Jisung, he’s a bad liar for the most part but games like this he’s got a stone poker face. “Guess you better start stripping pretty boy.” You said putting your cards down.

The smile that creeped across your face was quickly wiped away by Jisung “I don’t think so princess” he said as he put his down revealing a perfect hand. You whined looking at him with a serious face “you cheated there’s no way” he couldn’t help but laugh at your words “nope told yeah if there’s something to gain I’ll actually do it.” He said standing up making his way to the couch. “Now I’m ready for my show sweetheart” he said that stupid smug grin creeping on him, just wanted to smack it off of him (in a loving way).

Although Jisung and you were friends this wouldn’t be the first time he’s seen you naked. Hell it wouldn’t even be the 4th time, you were always kinda whatever about being naked around him. Did he ever mind? No. Why would he? Getting to see his beautiful best friend’s body like that? He loved it, loved you were so comfortable with him. What he didn’t love though is how much you always teased him and then he was stuck just thinking about you while he fucked his fist.

You sighed getting up looking at the cocky man in front of you “fine, but don’t come crying to me when you get a boner.” You teased. You slowly made your way towards him taking off certain clothes and letting them drop to the floor. The way you moved your hips moved and the way the lights hit your curves had him in a trance. You could see his bulge growing quickly “such an easy boy hmm.” You said standing in front of him “you’re just to damn hot.” He said his words airy and hot. As you let your last bit of clothes fall you were fully naked in front of him. He felt like he was about to go crazy even more so as you went behind him leaning down towards his ear “so hard for me and I haven’t even done anything.”

Jisung almost moaned in reply his head spinning a bit from arousal. He snapped back out of it as you kept talking “such a horny man hmm? So hard for his best friend, I bet you think about me all the time when you touch yourself hm?” You said nipping at his ear. As you made your way back around you could see his body language change. His eyes were glued to you “sit” he said his voice low, it sounded almost like a growl. He pat his thigh looking at you daring you to say something smart. To his surprise though you did, siting down his bulge perfectly sandwiched itself between your folds.

He looked you over a second before he quickly started to suck on your neck making you buck your hips in return. The feeling made him go almost crazy biting harshly onto your neck you let out the loudest moan rolling your hips onto his clothed hard on. His other hand gripped at your neck moving it to give him more room as he continued the assault on it. Leaving pretty little purple marks mixed with teeth marks all over your neck. His hand gripped your throat a bit hard as the free one smacked your ass every time you moved your hips.

You were almost drooling at the sensation, your neck being a sensitive spot for you. “Fuck Ji, please- I- fuck- fuck me fuck me” you babbled your brain already to fuzzy from him. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth.” He teased pulling away from your neck latching his lips now to yours. The kiss was sloppy full of need and lust. Your tongues wrestled as you grinned on him needing any sort of friction. “Fuck princess, ok let me take my pants off quick.” He said pulling away from the sloppy kiss.

As you moved you your eyes were met with the big wet patch you had left on him. His sweats having a clear outline where you’ve been grinding. The way his eyes grew at the sight almost made him go feral he discarded his pants quickly pulling you back on his lap. Kissing you again as you grinned on his now unclothed cock. What he lacked in girth he made up in length, his cock a bit curved as well.

You both moaned at the feeling before he moved himself “take your seat on the thrown princess” he said he would have cringed at his words but he was already too far gone for that. You slowly sunk down on his cock letting the feeling of him burn into your brain. You could feel him so deep, your walls almost molding to him. Your legs went almost jelly as you tried to move “Ji-“ you said softly.

He smiled moving his hips upward “my princess is already so fucked out of her brains she can’t move? I bet you’ve been thinking of me too huh. Thinking of me filling this pretty little cunt of yours? Hmm?” His words flowed out as he moved his hip digging his nails into your ass. You nod in response making him raise a brow “oh you have, have you? Think about me fucking you hard? The feeling of me filling you so full of my cock?”

“Yes- fuck Ji” you whimpered out his words driving you crazy “and now look at you bouncing on my cock, your cunt sucking me in. I can feel how much my words are driving you crazy, your cunt squeezes around me.” He continued to ramble picking his pace up. He moved one of his hands coming down to play with your clit, god you were so sensitive right now it was crazy. The moan you let out echoed in the room, the sound drove him mad. He latched himself back to your neck biting and sucking it harshly as he fucked you deep.

You could feel your high coming it was like a damn overflowing ready to just break at any moment. Jisung griped your hair pulling your head back a bit “touch yourself as I fuck you, I want you to cum all over my cock.” He growled his hand now wrapping around your waist pulling your body close to his. You did as you were told as he fucked you mercilessly. “Ji- I’m- fuck” you cried out as you felt the damn ready to burst “fucking hell princess” he groaned out.

“I’m gonna fucking breed you so deep.” His words hit a part of you that made you go crazy. His words, his cock pounding you and the your fingers stuttering over your sensitive nub. “Jisung- fuck please f-fill me breed me- fuck jisung!” You almost screamed out the damn finally busting the strew of your moans and the way your walls gripped him had him coming undone in no time.

He gripped your body tightly as he thrusted hard deep into you before cuming deep into you. His white strings painted pictures all across your walls. The feeling of him cuming so hard inside you had another wave rush over you making your body jolt squirting all over his cock. The rush of hot liquid coating both of you, he pulled you into a loving kiss holding you so tightly to him. “Didn’t think you’d like that, that much” he smirked his eyes looked sleepy almost as he kissed you again.

You could only nod resting your head on his shoulder your body shaking a bit. He helped you get cleaned up grabbing you a drink of water as he cleaned himself off. He laid down on the couch pulling you into his arms snuggling you tightly. Your body still feeling a bit jello-y. He peppered kisses against your shoulder “such a sweet girl, you did such a good job.” He cooed “let’s watch a movie and relax hmm? Want me to order food?”

You looked up at him and kissed his lips softly “food it is, I’ll order sweetheart. You ok though?” He said softly you nod holding onto him tightly “yeah, just want cuddles” you said voice sleepy. “Of course princess anything for you.” He said kissing your head curling back into the couch with you. You both never ended up getting food, falling asleep to quickly afterwards.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[lonesome-sometimes]

up on the bookshelf

wheels on the bus 2 and it’s completely different because there is no bus or any form of transport at all really and matty is a librarian but it’s still wheels on the bus 2 (in the brat remix album cover format)

that was until a certain someone sitting behind the librarian desk caused you to drop them abruptly, sending a loud echo throughout the near silent building.

“matty?” you say in disbelief.

matty healy x female reader

content warnings: public sex, sweet service top matty, age gap, oral (female receiving), slight blood kink when you squint, lovey dovey stuff because I miss matty I’m genuinely a trainwreck right now

minors do not interact!

with your reading list in one hand, you huff in annoyance as you fail to find the last few textbooks you needed for the rest of the semester. admitting your defeat, you carry the rest of your books towards the front desk, already dreading the walk back to campus on the other side of town.

that was until a certain someone sitting behind the librarian desk caused you to drop them abruptly, sending a loud echo throughout the near silent building.

“matty?” you say in disbelief.

he looks up from the book he was engrossed in, startled by the loud thud. he takes a second to register who you were, scrambling to push his bookmark into place before turning his full attention towards you. “y/n? oh my go- hey! hey, how are you? god, I haven’t seen you since-”

“since the really, really long and awkward bus ride home with your wife in our presence after you-” you explain nonchalantly, causing the older to choke on his own spit as you remind him of your rest stop bathroom antics, not that he had ever forgotten.

he laughs nervously, pushing a hand through his shorter curls. “I mean, I guess? anyway, what are you doing here?”

“oh, I go to college here.” you say like its obvious, gesturing to nothing as you look around the empty room. “I just hate our campus library, or just our campus in general I suppose, so I come here to study and take my books out. It’s much quieter here, campus is too…studenty?”

he laughs with you, chuckling softly at how ridiculous it sounded. “I get your point, but aren’t you meant to like, enjoy all of that?” he thinks for a moment, shaking his head softly. “nevermind, that’s not the point. this is crazy, what a nice surprise I-”

“you have a moustache now.” you observe out loud, your tongue working quicker than your brain as your eyes lingered on his upper lip and the new strip of hair there, moving down towards the tight sleeves of his grey tshirt and admiring the way it hugged his frame perfectly. “...and you look like you’ve been working out…don’t tell me you…”

his cheeks tinge pink, swinging his chair slightly away from you as he lets out a nervous breath. “I told he, I mean, not about us! not exactly, I just told her how I felt and here I now am, working day shifts at the local library, waiting for my whole music thing to take off, while she vacates on some island somewhere with her neeew husband.” he draws out the new, politely taking a book from an older lady and wishing her a nice day, turning back towards you. “I’m happy here though, the people are nice and well, you’re here.”

It’s your turn to blush at his words, forgetting how sweet he had been with you in the bathroom moments after he had fucked your throat raw. “oh, come on matty, it’s not like you sat and dreamt about me everyday like a fairytale princess waiting for her prince to come…” you half joke half admit about yourself, causing his cheeks to turn a darker shade of pink at the comparison, his secrets spilling without having even said anything.

“oh I seeee.” you singsong as you lean forward, putting your hands on the desk so that you were leaning over him, letting your oversized tshirt fall off your shoulder slightly and revealing your collarbone. not the most flattering outfit you could have worn, but you weren’t exactly expecting your random one bus stand to show up anytime soon. “been thinking about me, matty?”

he visibly swallows, opening his mouth to answer but instead his eyes widen as a mother and daughter approach the desk. you stand up straight again, slightly embarrassed as you pull your tshirt centre again. you watch the exchange, matty smiling ever so sweetly as he hands the young girl her picture book and again wishes them a lovely day. he turns to you once more, sighing softly. “darling, I don’t think now is a good time, I’m working and-”

“matty, I managed to seduce you into fucking my throat with enough time for small talk afterwards inside the bathroom of a service station during a twenty minute rest stop, all while your wife-”

“-ex wife.” he corrects, smiling softly.

“...ex wife, was sitting back on the bus unaware of how her sweet little husband was crying for me and asking me about my favourite radiohead album, and you’re gonna sit here and tell me you can’t have a private conversation with me because you’re at work?”

theres a moment of silence as he looks between you and the empty room, standing up suddenly and grabbing your hand as he pulls you back towards an abandoned section of the library. smiling wide, you expect him to push you up against one of the old bookcases and start kissing you like a man starved as he pulls you in front of him, but it never comes.

Instead, he pulls you in. hands coming up around your waist, he hugs you. unexpected and unsure of what to do at first, you let your arms come up around his shoulders, pulling him in closer as you stroke the hair on the back of his neck softly, letting him breathe you in as you stay silent for a moment.

he pulls away, the both of you laughing as you realise how ridiculous this is, not having shared more than ten minutes alone together that didn’t include a quickie in a restroom. “everything okay, matty?” you ask, pushing his hair away from his face and letting your hand rest against his cheekbones as he nods.

“I wanted to erm, thank you, for helping me realise things about my life and marriage, I might not look like anything special at the moment but since meeting you I’ve been able to find my own place, I have a kitten who I adore, and I actually get to work on my music I-” he stops. “I’m really happy y/n, and I owe that to you.”

for a second you’re worried he’s being completely serious. “m-matty, you surely can’t fully believe I’m to blame for all that, you barely even know me I-”

he starts kissing down your collarbone, letting your tshirt fall again as he sinks down down down till he’s almost kneeling in front of you, his hands coming up towards your tshirt, breathing heavy. “no really darling, thank you so, so much.” he breaths, punctuating each so with a wet kiss to your stomach, kissing and licking at each expanse of skin he can reach. your hand comes up to cover your mouth, the other moving to hold the back of hid head through the fabric of your shirt. somehow this felt much more intimate, more naughty, than the restroom ever did.

he reappears from under your shirt, staring up at you with complete adoration as his fingers dance up your thighs and hooking themselves into the waistband of your leggings. “can I please?” he asks ever so politely, although your pants are already being pulled down low enough so that he can access where he wanted before you had chance to answer. your face was on fire.

“been thinking about doing this since I met you, wanted to taste you so bad darling.” he breaths out against you sending goosebumps across your skin, lips so close to you as he teases before finally settling on your core.

you desperately try to stay quiet, the fact that you were both in a library being some sick torture and punishment for engaging in infidelity beforehand because good god was he good with his tongue, licking and sucking at your clit like he was desperate. his large hands almost enveloped your waist, holding you in place as he began to fuck you on his tongue up against the shelf behind you. you thread your fingers through his salt and pepper locks, frowning when it was a little too short to pull. still, you let your fingers stay where they were, your lips bitten red as you tried to conceal your noises.

suddenly he stops, pulling away from you with only a trail of spit connecting the two of you, lips glistening with your wetness. you look down, brows furrowed in confusion as you try and catch your breathe. “w-why’d you stop?”

he giggles before diving in again like a teenager, his hands moving to hook around the backs of your thighs now. you moan around your fist, desperatly trying to stay as quiet as you can but failing miserably. he shushes you, the vibration from his vocal chords not helping your situation as you feel yourself quickly approaching the edge. “m-matty I-”

he pulls away for a small second, eyes wide and hungry. “please cum for me darling, need to feel you cum on my tongue-” he begs, quickly diving back in as he licks you through your orgasm, groaning softly as he feels you clench around his tongue, lapping at your folds as he cleans up your orgasm.

“fuck-” you bring a finger up towards your lip, blood pooling on your tongue from where you had to bite to keep quiet unless you wanted the whole library to hear you. he pulls your leggings back up and over your thighs, the both of you silently thanking somebody for the fact that nobody was looking for cooking books. he smiles up at you dopily, allowing himself to catch his breath before standing back up.

“good?” he breaths out, pulling your bloodied finger to his lips to lick it clean. You couldn’t find the words to answer, nodding as you watch his lips sucking your fingers entranced. He pulls off them with a pop, smiling at the way he left you speechless.

you both forget where you are until an older male comes around the corner, causing you both to jump away from each other. he doesn’t suspect much, why would he? shooting you both a small smile before turning and going back the way he came, sending you both laughing.

“so…” he begins as your giggles come to a stop, shuffling from foot to foot nervously. “I don’t actually finish up in here for another hour, but I could drive you back to campus? your books seemed heavy, and I’m guessing you don’t have a car…”

god, you were so smitten for him and you had only spent less than an hour with him alone at most. “...or I could come to yours?”

he smiles, thinking for a moment as you two start walking back towards the desk, to no surprise the place was still pretty much empty. “wanna see a picture of lilah?”

you squeal at the idea of singing his kitten, sending apologies to nobody at the sudden loud noise coming from you once again. “yes please.” you nod and whisper, the idea of seeing both matty and lilah filling you with warmth.

you were right, the local library was definitely better than the campus library.

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

I NEED a part 3 of the step-cest one like the cliffhanger omgg ✋😭

left me wanting more 😖

Here ya go! :)

Pleaser - Stepbrother!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader - Part 3

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Part 1, Part 2

Summary: Ethan has more creative ways to sneak around with you

A/N: I got so many requests for this within the last 24 hours. I hope y'all like it, and if you want me to write more for it, let me know!

You were almost asleep when you heard your phone vibrate on the nightstand beside you. You checked it, curious to see who would be texting you at almost midnight. You smiled when your eyes adjusted and saw Ethan’s name.

Ethan: You still up?

You: I was almost asleep, but someone decided to text me🙄

Ethan: I’m sorry, I’ll let you get some rest, but I wanted to show you something😏

You waited as you stared at the screen, seeing a video pop up. You clicked on it to see Ethan shirtless with his pants halfway down his thighs and his hard cock in his hand. He was quietly moaning your name as he stroked it, before his bottom lip went in between his teeth to keep himself quiet when his whimpers got louder. His tip was red as his precum was leaking out, his hand movements speeding up because he was so needy. Within seconds, his head fell back as his cum shot out, all over his abs.

You were salivating at the video, wanting nothing more than to be with him.

You: I wish that camera wasn’t in the hallway. I’d lick that cum off you👅

Ethan: Fuck I wish you could

You: Why’d you have to send that to me? I’m so wet right now

Ethan: I didn’t get to cum earlier, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how amazing your pussy feels

You: What’s this plan you have? Because I don’t know how to not have you in my bed with me

Ethan: I’ll tell you tomorrow, baby. Get some sleep.😘

You: Goodnight

It took you forever to fall asleep as the thoughts of Ethan ran though your mind. You couldn’t believe how crazy the day was. You couldn’t believe you got caught. But the one thing you really couldn’t believe was that your mom and Wayne separating meant you actually had a chance with Ethan.

The next morning, your mom walked into your room to wake you up. You hadn’t spoken to her since she mentioned wanting to install the cameras, and you hated that she no longer trusted you.

“Good morning,” she said, opening the curtains to let the sunlight pour in.

“Ughhh,” you groaned out, the exhaustion from only a few hours of sleep made you pull the comforter over your head.

“You need to get up. I want to discuss a few things with you before I leave,” she said, taking a seat at the foot of your bed.

You pulled the comforter off your head, your tired eyes meeting hers.

“I’ll get a notification every time there’s movement in front of the cameras. Don’t think I won’t be watching. If I see anything happening that I shouldn’t be, you’re going to stay with your dad until Ethan and Wayne move out,” her tone was stern, and it took everything in you to not roll your eyes.

“Why is it that the second you find out I’m not perfect, you think I can’t be trusted?” you asked, genuinely curious.

She sighed, not knowing how to answer your question.

“I graduated with honors, I got early acceptance into college, and I do everything you ask of me. I just don’t get it,” you said, sitting up. “I know that wasn’t something you wanted to see, but if you and Wayne are separating, why is it a big deal?”

“It’s a big deal because right now, he’s still your stepbrother. You’re under the same roof. I just can’t trust you around him. All the teenage hormones are obviously too much for the two of you,” she said, standing up to leave. “I’m sorry you feel like your privacy has been stripped away, but it’s the only way I feel comfortable leaving you here with him and not sending you to your dads house two hours away from here.”

She closed the door behind her as she walked out. You threw your pillow at the door, the soft sound it made when it hit the floor very unsatisfying.

“Fuck,” you said, grabbing your phone. You saw a text from Ethan.

Ethan: Good morning, beautiful. I’m going to make you breakfast. Come to the kitchen in 20.😊

You: I didn’t know you could cook🧐

Ethan: There’s a lot of things you still need to know about me

You smiled as you locked your phone, deciding to get up to shower. You couldn’t shake the creepy feeling of the cameras, so you looked all around the bathroom, making sure there wasn’t one in there before shedding your clothes.

You looked over your tired appearance in the mirror, hoping the shower would help. You cut the water on, noticing that it wasn’t getting very hot. You assumed it was from everyone else showering before you, so you decided to make it quick. As you tried to wash the shampoo out of your hair, the water turned ice cold. You squealed at the sudden temperature change, your teeth starting to chatter as you hurried through the rest of your shower faster than you thought was possible.

After you got out, you saw a text pop up from your mom.

Mom: If you’re showering, don’t walk out in a towel. Put your robe on.

You rolled your eyes as you dried off, still freezing from the cold shower. You put your robe on, stopping to do a spin in the hallway for your mother that seems to be watching your every move, before going to your room to get dressed.

When you walked towards the kitchen, the delicious aroma of what Ethan was making made your mouth water. You walked up beside him as he stood in front of the stove, wanting so badly to hug him. You looked behind you to see the camera on the wall.

“I feel like a prisoner,” you whispered, as Ethan started to laugh.

“The good news is, I disabled the audio. They can’t hear anything we talk about,” he said, placing a pancake onto the small stack he’d already made.

“Aren’t they going to notice?” you asked, speaking at a normal volume.

“No, I told dad to tell your mom that it doesn’t record audio. He doesn’t see the point in them knowing what we talk about,” he let out a small laugh as he spoke.

“You should’ve heard the awkward conversation I had to have this morning. If we get caught doing anything, I have to go live with my dad until you move out.”

Ethan started to laugh again as you cocked your eyebrow at him.

“I wonder if your mom realizes you’re two windows down from me. This is a one-story house,” he said, smiling.

“So that’s your plan? You’re going to get into my room from the outside?” you smirked, as he carried the stack of pancakes over to the table he set for the two of you.

“Yep. She’ll never know.”

After breakfast, that’s what he did. He went to his room a few minutes before you went to yours, hoping that it would seem a little less obvious. The last thing he wanted was for your mom to get suspicious. You opened your window, your head hanging out as you watched Ethan jump out of his. He walked over to you, placing a kiss to your lips before climbing in.

“Hey,” he said, wrapping his arms around you as you stood in front of him.

“Hi,” you said, as you nuzzled into his chest.

He held you there for a while, not wanting to let you go.

“You look so beautiful today,” he said, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Yeah, the whole ‘no makeup, damp hair, after an ice-cold shower’ thing really makes me feel attractive,” you joked, finally pulling away from him to lead him towards your bed.

“You’re always beautiful,” he said, sighing as he relaxed on your bed. “Come here, baby.”

You laid your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as the two of you cuddled in comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s presence. His hand rubbed against your back as you started to doze off.

After a couple hours, you woke up to your phone ringing. You smiled as you looked at Ethan, his eyes dazed as he tried to wake up too.

“Fuck, it’s my mom. Be quiet,” you said, as he laughed a little. “I’m serious!”

Your eyes were staring him down as he watched you answer the call, a smirk playing on his lips as he got in between your legs.

“Hello?” you answered, as his hands started to run up your thighs.

“Hey, just wanted to check in on you and see how you were doing,” she said, as you heard her eating her lunch.

“I’m not with Ethan if that’s why you’re asking,” you mumbled, your eyes going wide as his hands slid under the waistband of your leggings. He slowly slid them, along with your panties down your thighs, his eyes looking into yours as he smiled.

“I know you’re not. I’ve had the camera app pulled up at my desk all day,” she said, as Ethan started to place open-mouthed kisses up your legs, starting at your ankles.

“Well, I’m trying to watch a movie, can we talk when you get home?” you asked, as his mouth started to reach your inner thighs.

“No, I wanted to talk. I’ve been thinking a lot about what you asked me this morning about not trusting you,” she sighed, as your bottom lip went in between your teeth. When Ethan’s eyes met yours, he raised up to mouth ‘Be quiet’. Your heart was pounding in your chest as he leaned back down, gently licking your clit.

“Are you there?” your mom asked.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. This movie is just really good,” you said, your hand tangling in Ethan’s hair.

“Okay, maybe we should just talk later, then. My lunch is almost over, anyway,” she said, as Ethan’s tongue started to move faster against you.

“Okay, love you,” you said, your voice sounding a little strained.

“Are you okay?” she asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

“Yeah, it’s a scary movie,” you said, trying to pull it together long enough to get her to hang up.

“Oh, okay. I’ll be home in a few hours. Love you, too,” she said, before you heard the beeping that the call had ended.

You let out all the whimpers you had to keep deep inside of you as you locked your phone, your hands lightly tugging at his hair.

“Oh fuck,” you mewled, as you felt one of his fingers slip inside of you. He soon added another one, angling them just right to hit the spot you needed him to. “Right there, baby.”

His fingers started to press harder into that spot, as the sounds of your moans and wetness echoing off the walls. He looked up to see your lip between your teeth again, your moans muffled as your eyebrows knitted together. Over the last few days, he’s taken in what all of your facial expressions mean during sex. He knew your current one meant that you were getting close. Well, that and the tightening grip on his hair.

He groaned against your clit at the feeling, your hips starting to shake at the vibrations. He started to hum against you as your hips moved against his mouth and fingers.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moaned out, your core spasming around his fingers.

His movements slowed down as he worked you through it, not wanting to overstimulate you too much. He placed one last lick to your clit, before crawling back up to lay on the bed beside you.

“Why did you do that?” you asked, your breathing still irregular.

He laughed as his hand ran up your arm.

“I think I have a new kink,” he said, looking over to you. “There’s just something so hot about the idea of getting caught.”

You playfully smacked his chest as he faked hurt.

“Hey, you liked it, though!” he uttered, defending his actions.

“You just wait until it’s your dad calling one day to check on you,” you smirked, as your hand ran over the hard cock in his jeans.

He pulled your hand away, lacing your fingers with his. You gave him a confused look as he smiled at you.

“I don’t want you to think the only thing I care about is fucking you. You’re way more than that,” he said, “As bad as I want it, making you cum is all I needed.”

You smiled at him, leaning over to place a kiss on his lips.

“So are you just going to hold out until later tonight and send me another video?” you joked, laying your head back on his chest.

“You have no idea how many nights I’ve jerked off thinking about you,” he said, his hand moving to your hair.

[evansbby]

𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐭 (𝒑𝒐𝒚𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: spanking, daddy kink, a/b/o dynamics, misogyny, light fingering, biting, gaslighting, manipulation, animalistic behaviour lmao, 18+, minors dni

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve teaches you a lesson you’ll never forget.

𝗔/𝗡: This is a POYT drabble featuring Steve and his omega! Enjoy!

“Omega, baby, come here.”

Steve’s voice is stern, despite the pet name. You freeze from where you’re sat, hunched over your boyfriend’s desk where you’ve got a mountain of homework in front of you. You’d been buried up to your nose in textbooks and notes when he’d come home, and all he’d done was sit and watch you for the past ten minutes.

You immediately get up and make your way over to where he’s sat on the edge of his bed. Pointedly, he pats his thigh and you take a seat on his lap.

“What have I told you about what good omegas should do when their alphas come home?” There’s a dangerous edge to his tone as he casually pushes the fabric of your top aside and fingers your bra strap, snapping it against your skin and making you yelp.

“Good omegas greet their alphas at the door with a hug and kiss.” You recite before looking up at him pleadingly (although not for long because he’s scary and you can’t maintain eye contact for long). “B-But Steve, I was doing homework. I got d-distracted, I’m sorry.”

“Mm, see this is why omegas shouldn’t concern themselves with getting degrees.” Steve muses, stroking your hair casually whilst you sit in his lap, rigid as a statue and your heart beating like crazy. “So busy with schoolwork that you forgot your duty as an omega.”

“I’m sorry.” You bow your head in shame. You can feel the disappointment radiating off of him in waves, and it’s having a major effect on you, as usual.

“I’ve been at home ten minutes now and all you did was smile at me and say hey before going back to your work. When really, you should’ve greeted me with the proper respect befitting of an alpha. I thought you knew better, omega.” Steve shakes his head, twirling a strand of your hair on his finger before giving it a harsh tug.

“I should’ve known better, Steve. But there was a lot of work, you see, and—” There’s a part of you that finds it silly, because you have every right to do your homework. And it’s not like you’d ignored him! But the omega part of you burns with shame because you’ve let him down.

“Shut up.” Steve says calmly and you immediately bow your head again, only to look up when he gives your ass a harsh pinch. “Well? What are you waiting for? Give your alpha a welcome home kiss.”

Heart pitter-pattering, you angle up and tip your head back, pecking his warm lips softly. And it feels so nice, a large part of you just wants to continue kissing, just melt into him and feel his arms around you. Just make out with him forever because it gives you butterflies and he’s such a good kisser.

But Steve doesn’t kiss you back, and you’re too shy to initiate anything. So you pull back and duck your head. The alpha energy exuding from him is making you feel heady and extra submissive, so all you can think to do now is stay put and wait till he gives you permission to go back to your schoolwork.

But the glint in Steve’s eye shows that he has other plans.

“Stand up.” He commands you softly and you do as he says, standing between his legs with the rug soft against your bare feet. “Pull your leggings down. Panties too.”

You blink. He wanted to have sex? Well, that wasn’t surprising since Steve always wanted sex. It didn’t matter where you were, what time it was or what mood he was in.

You do as you’re told, feeling the cool air against your bare legs as you strip. It’s strange though, usually Steve takes your clothes off for you (something about how it’s an Alpha’s job to undress his omega). You wonder why this time is different—

“Bend over my lap.”

You blink before realisation seeps through your brain, and you see his hand flexing and waiting by his side. Oh no. He couldn’t possibly be wanting to spank you, could he??

Instinctively, you shake your head. “S-Steve, please, I said I was sorry! Please! I won’t do it again!” You desperately think of all the ways you can make it up to him. Cook him his favourite dinner and dessert? And maybe a big breakfast spread tomorrow? You had an assignment due the next day but you could ask for an extension if it meant keeping your alpha happy.

But Steve’s handsome features remain stoic. “Get over my knee, omega. And if you make me repeat myself one more time, there’ll be hell to pay for you.”

You find yourself over his knee and face to face with the bedsheets, quivering in his arms as he lifts your oversized t shirt up. You suck in your breath when you feel the expanse of his hand stroking your ass.

“I’m punishing you because you deserve it.” His voice is deathly calm and it frightens you. “And maybe after this is over, you’ll learn to be a good omega and get your priorities straight.”

Never in your life had you been spanked before. Sure, Steve liked to slap your ass all the time; during sex or even casually in public. But this was different, being bent over the knee of your alpha like you were some kind of chastised child, your body stripped away of any sort of autonomy as it surrenders to him.

“I’ll be nice to you, since you’re a baby and it’s your first ever spanking after all.” Steve smirks, hand still stroking and squeezing your ass, “I’ll only give you ten smacks, although you deserve more than double that amount for forgetting to greet me. But I’m not heartless, so you better thank me for being nice.”

You sniff, feeling like a child who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar — despite the fact that your offence wasn’t even that bad! But you feel so submissive, so you nod sadly and give in to your fate. “Th-Thank you for being nice.”

SMACK.

His hand cracks down on your bare ass, hard as a whip and you cry out in shock and pain. That hurt! But Steve is unperturbed by your pain, giving your searing ass cheek a rough squeeze. “That was for not addressing me properly.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, “I’m sorry…Thank you for being nice, daddy.”

Steve sighs, leisurely stroking your ass while you lay over his knee with bated breath, never knowing when the next blow will happen. “God, you have such a pretty baby ass.” He grabs one cheek lewdly and gives it a jiggle, “So cute and round, practically begging for a smack.”

He’s taking his sweet time, and it’s too intense, and you can’t help but look up at him pleadingly, “S-Steve, please, I said I was sor—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Steve says sharply, pinching your butt meanly, and you cry out in pain. “You’re not making this any easier for yourself, omega. I know you’re a dumb little baby who’s scared but that doesn’t mean you get to skip out on punishments. Keep your eyes on the floor, and if you look up at me again, I swear I’ll use my belt.”

The threat has your heart racing and palms sweating, and you look back down as Steve resumes playing with your ass. His expert fingers know exactly how to touch you, stroke your skin, pinch and prod you till you’re panting and trying to squeeze your thighs together. You’re still scared but you can’t help but feel your wetness seeping down your legs (and onto his thigh).

SMACK.

His palm collides with your ass harder than the first time, and you cry out, fisting the bedsheets and biting your lip.

“Count for me, baby.” He commands you, “and thank me after each one.”

“O-One.” You cry softly. “Thank you, d-daddy.”

SMACK.

Another hard blow, and you swallow harshly because it hurts already and you still have eight more to go, and you can’t help but sob, “Two. Thank you, daddy.”

“Aww, crying already, baby?” Steve coos, stroking your burning ass. “And just remember, I’m going easy on you. Next time you slip up, it’ll be the paddle or my belt.”

The punishment continues, smack after smack cracking down on your ass till you’re writhing in pain, crying as the tears flow freely down your face, and Steve has to use his other leg to pin you down and keep you in place as the burning pain is proving too much to handle.

“Gonna bruise your little ass up real good, omega.” He promises you, voice deep with lust. You can feel his dick, angry and hard through his jeans, poking up against your stomach.

“Fuck, you don’t even know how bad I’ve been wanting to teach you a lesson like this.” He gives your ass cheek another jiggle, squeezing it hard as if it’s a toy. “Before I’d claimed you, when I’d see you walking around, bending over to pick something up, your cute little ass poking out for everyone to see.”

SMACK. This slap is harder than ever, and you sob as you count and thank him, barely getting the words out as Steve grows more and more excited.

“And everyone would fucking stare at you.” He continues darkly, stopping his assault and instead stroking the sizzling skin of your backside, getting dangerously close to your slippery core.

“And like the dumb omega you are, you never even noticed. Fuck, I should’ve pulled you aside and fucking smacked your ass raw right there in the middle of campus, in front of all of them. Maybe then they’d have realised you were never a free piece of ass to begin with.”

SMACK.

You cry and cry as he has his way with you, his palm colliding with your sensitive ass over and over again. And the force of each smack has your clit — all puffed up and engorged — rub deliciously against the material of his jeans. The rough denim creates friction against your bundle of nerves, mixing a dangerous cocktail of burning pain and pleasure within you as your cream leaks down his leg.

“Tell me who this little baby ass belongs to, omega.” Steve orders you between smacks.

“You!”

“Say it again. Louder. Tell me exactly who owns your sweet little ass.”

“Daddy! You own my ass, you own it!” You sob, hoping it’ll be over because you’ve counted more then ten smacks now. In fact, you’ve lost count.

But Steve is still incensed, raining smack after smack down on your poor rear end — even though he’d promised only ten! But you can’t argue with him, can’t protest. All you can do is cry and take the assault.

“Damn right. You’re my fucking omega and that means I can beat your little ass whenever the fuck I want, you hear me? And you’re just a weak little baby, so just shut the fuck up and take it.”

He alternates between both your ass cheeks, landing blow after blow before coming to a sudden stop. You sniffle, the tears blurring your vision and the pain mixed with the desire between your legs making you heady. Steve spreads your ass cheeks slowly, pressing a probing finger against your puckered hole.

You gasp, the unfamiliar feeling of his finger there sending sparks down to your core. But all he does is trail downwards, dangerously close to your pussy which throbs with need.

“P-Please.” You garble through your tears, earning another hefty slap.

Steve leisurely swirls his finger through your dripping wet folds, gathering your sticky cream and spreading up on your burning ass.

“Wet from a spanking.” He whistles lowly, “how slutty can you get, omega? Does getting hit make you horny? Huh?” He gives you another hard slap, “I asked you a question, baby. Does getting spanked make your little pussy wet?”

“Yes!” You sob, “Steve! Daddy, please!” And you don’t even know what you’re begging for. For him to stop spanking you? For him to touch you down there? You don’t know, but you just feel so needy, all the sensations clouding your judgement as Steve’s attention goes back to your ass.

“I’m not even close to done with you.” Steve murmurs before licking his palm and cracking down on your poor ass cheek once more, the sound reverberating off the walls as you cry in pain. “I’ll make sure you can’t sit straight for a week, baby. Maybe that’ll teach you to be the dutiful little omega you were always meant to be.”

SMACK.

SMACK.

SMACK.

Your rear end feels fiery and numb at the same time, Steve’s onslaught never-ending as he alternates between smacks and pinches. Your flesh feels sore and abused, and Steve’s boner only grows harder underneath you.

“Mine. All fucking mine.” Steve growls, his blows growing more animalistic. And then, with a rumble from his chest, he leans down over you. And before you know what’s happening, you howl in pain when you feel his teeth clamp down on the sizzling flesh of your ass, biting down hard as if your ass is a piece of meat.

His bite is so hard, so animalistic, that you know he’s drawn blood. And you know it’ll leave a mark on the sensitive skin of your backside. But he doesn’t care, clamping down hard while his strong arms hold you in place. And when he finally detaches his teeth from your skin, he licks it all up. Licking stripes up and down your ass, practically devouring it as if it’s a toy for him to use and abuse how he pleases.

“Mine.” Steve whispers against your fiery hot flesh, ignoring your cries as he nuzzles his face against your ass, teeth grazing against the sizzling, broken skin as if he’s tempted to bite you again. As if he’s been taken over by some kind of wild beast inside him, one that wants to claim you in the rawest, most animalistic way possible. Instead, he licks and sucks and nips at your flesh, “Don’t you fucking disrespect me like that again, baby. I can do so much more damage than this.”

SMACK.

The final blow is harder than any of the ones before it, like the crack of a whip on your backside, leaving you crying harder than ever before.

And then he jolts you upwards so you’re sat on his knee, and the contact between your ass and the rough denim has you sobbing and sobbing in pain, feeling all sorts of vulnerable and submissive and scared.

“Y-You said… Y-You said only ten!” You sob in his arms. Your ass is on fire and you feel like he’d smacked you about thirty times at least.

“I know, baby.” Steve sounds surprisingly gentle but you can hear the smirk in his voice. “But as your alpha, I need to have a firm hand. And I knew you wouldn’t learn your lesson with just ten spanks. Daddy knows what’s best for you, baby. And don’t you have anything to say to me now?”

“I’m s-s-sorry, I’m so s-sorry!” You burst out, only wanting his approval. It’s like his spanking has broken something inside you, making you feel like you need his approval and forgiveness or else you’ll die. “W-Won’t do it again, daddy, I pr-promise.”

Steve smiles as he smooths your hair back, before casually gathering your tears on his finger when he strokes your cheeks. “You better hope you don’t do it again. Next time I come home, I expect you to greet me at the door, you got that?”

You nod desperately through your tears, heart thudding in your chest when finally, Steve hugs you close, giving your tear-stained cheek a soft kiss while he holds you and allows you to sob into his chest, repeating the words ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again.

“And look, you’ve made a huge mess on my jeans.” Steve tsks, and he’s got a glint in his eye as he surveys the huge wet spot on his thigh. You duck your head in shame, burying your face in his shoulder because you feel all small and vulnerable and afraid. “I should take you over my knee again, baby, for making such a mess.”

“Please no!” You sob quietly, wanting to be held and hugged by him but too shy and distraught and in pain to ever voice this desire. “ ‘m sorry, Steve. D-Didn’t mean to, it just happened.”

Steve continues to stroke your head as if you’re his little pet, pressing kisses on your hairline while his arms hug you tightly. And you know he’s the reason your ass is on fire right now, but it’s still this gentle touch from him that you crave. You feel so especially needy, wanting to cling to him like a koala.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling nice today, omega.” He tells you, standing up and picking you up along with him. “Now tell me, do you want to go back to studying?”

You glance back at your textbooks, strewn open and dejected on his desk, before immediately shaking your head, burying your face into his chest once more and holding onto him tightly. Your brain feels scrambled and disoriented, your ass feels numb with pain, and the omega inside you is crying to stay in your alpha’s arms. Studying would have to wait.

Steve smiles, the wicked glint in his eyes still present. “That’s my good girl. Always remember that I come first.” He presses his lips against yours and you welcome the kiss, desperately kissing him back and clutching his sweater as he holds you close.

“I’ll run us a bath, baby. See, daddy has to discipline you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be nice too.”

A/N: SKDJSKSKSKA IDEK YALL!!! WHAT DO U THINK ???

[flowerinjuries]

nct 127 kinks !

pls dni if ur not 18+!

taeil

switch! dom-leaning

really likes to be in control bc he lovesss to tease u!!

when he’s domming, he’s rlly into bondage! expect him to have a collection of ropes and ties for you

he’s also rlly into lingerie - anything delicate with lots of lace is definitely his cup of tea

he’s pretty laidback overall, no hard kinks but he does love when u put on a show for him like a strip tease

when he’s subbing he just loves to see u have ur fun with him! he loves seeing his baby use him for their own pleasure :(

johnny

dominant lol

no super hard kinks but he’s definitely a dom and loves seeing u be on ur hands and knees for him

he loves being praised too. honestly he just loves showing off for you.

will take u at any time on any surface all u gotta do is ask

i can see him being into handcuffs

like taeil, johnny also appreciates pretty lingerie but he prefers a sexier look like dark colors and garter belts

johnny is so boyfriend to me so everything with him is pretty loving and casual lol i also see him having lots of quickies just bc he thought u looked sexy and couldn’t resist

he definitely calls u babe, maybe the occasional ‘whore’ if he’s feeling extra dirty

johnny’s just hot idk what else to say

taeyong

switch! sub-leaning

yongie loves when u use him as ur pretty lil doll

he will do anything u ask bc he’s a good boy that just wants to make u happy

he loves when u manhandle him: using a leash, pulling his hair, just overall being rlly rough

he never disobeys u bc he just loves u so much and he also wants u to please him as a reward

when ur tired or stressed out though sometimes u just need ty to take the lead and use u too

he’s gentle but also rough with u bc he knows u like that

there’s only one thing he loves more than being praised and that’s praising u

overall he’s just the most caring partner who puts your needs before his <3

yuta

the sex god himself…extremely dominant if u didn’t know…

he is definitely a brat tamer

he loves putting ur bratty mouth to good use..he’s so rough so he always pushes u down on ur knees and grabs the back of ur head to force ur face into his cock, “well it’s not gonna suck itself now is it, slut?”

he just needs to fuck the attitude out of his baby

i just know he has an evil laugh whenever he catches u doing something he doesn’t like

he’s so so mean he will edge u for hours

loves using u to get himself off, then taunts u, “aw, did u want to cum too? well too fucking bad”

definitely a sadist

yanks your hair, spanks u hard, maybe slaps ur cheek

he loves to see u cry bc of him. it’s his favorite sight to see bc ur just so pretty when ur full of him as tears spill out ur eyes and over ur bruised lips :(

ur his lil prince/princess so he always gives in to you no matter how tough he wants to seem

so maybe one day u say u wanna try domming him (he definitely giggled at this) but he lets u have ur fun (only for so long..until he flips the script and is fucking into u super hard)

some things he really likes are knife play and bondage..like i said he’s definitely a sadist

but despite him being so rough and dominant he’s the absolute BEST at aftercare. he will clean u up and run u a bath..then hold u in his arms the rest of the night whispering sweet nothings as u fall asleep (i’m crying)

doyoung

i wanna say he’s a very sadistic dom but i can see him being a lil bit submissive at times so i’ll say he’s a switch

he’s more quiet than yuta and way more mysterious. doyoung as a dom is SCARY. he’s also a brat tamer but he will not give into your wants.. he is going to punish u whether u like it or not

spanks u until ur dark red and have his hand prints in ur skin

he’s very very possessive of u so don’t piss him off

he’s kind of a pervert though..probably has used ur lingerie to help him get off when u weren’t there

^^^he steals ur underwear

thinks about u alllllll the time.. he’s obsessed

uses his belt to tie u up

this man is crazy

onto his submissive side…

he just loves u so he just wants to make u feel good

very whiny

will let u tie him up to keep things equal

i feel like he’d be into sensation play like using hot wax or ice cubes..maybe even electrocution

anyways doyoung is very interesting :D

jaehyun

switch but very dom leaning

this man.. i am sweating

yes u call him daddy ok i’m sorry

he just loves to be on top and in control what can i say

jaehyun also loves to fuck

he could glance at u and get horny

his sex drive is so high…

really likes sex to be rough and hard

he’s not that into toys bc he thinks his hands are better

loves to wrap his hands around your throat

also loves to slap his hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as he drills into u from behind with your back flush up against his front

his voice is so sexy and he knows it so he’s really into dirty talk

calls u all sorts of degrading nasty names like slut, whore, fuck doll

but also is soft and tells u ur doing a good job and that ur his good girl/boy .. his sweet baby <3 you’d do anything for him too bc u just love him so much

loves getting his dick sucked too

when he’s subby he’s extra vocal..begging and begging for u to do anything

but u love to tease him

sex with jaehyun is so much fun

jungwoo

i cant see this man domming anyone for shit so i’m going to say he’s a sub

god he’s so fucking whiny

just give him what he wants and tell him he’s a good boy… jk i think u should be rough with him and edge him

he acts all sweet but i swear he’s so bratty

loves to piss u off then pretend he did nothing wrong

he’s kinda tall but i think he should get manhandled .. he just likes to be controlled

he’s so mischievous

pushes u to ur absolute edge.. he wants to see u go as far as possible

he definitely has a toy collection and loves trying new things!! he is very experimental

maybe he’s also an exhibitionist idk i just see him not giving any fucks if he gets caught

jungwoo is so much fun but also a headache

mark

100% switch no doubts

when he’s domming he likes to be rough with u but he’s also very careful and asks u “is this ok?” after everything he does

once u give him the go though his brain turns to mush and there’s no going back

he fucks so fast

chokes u with his whole arm around ur throat

also into filming u two going at it just so he can watch later

i think he really loves oral sex, can go down on u for hours and not expect anything in return

just loves to see ur bodies tangled together

loves having his hair pulled and his neck sucked on

he’s vocal but he doesn’t want to be. will whisper curse words but immediately put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from moaning.

he gets so turned on knowing that he’s the one making u feel so good

god he just loves touching u.. ur so perfect to him

edges himself without telling u just bc he wants the sex to last as long as possible

he’s so sweet with aftercare too..brushes ur hair and brings u water

mark lee is the sweetest (but he can be as rough as u want)

haechan

also not sure on him.. he’s for sure dominant but could possibly also be submissive

sadist! sadist! sadist!

dominant hyuck is so so mean

hates giving u what u want bc ur just a pathetic little bitch that won’t shut the fuck up

might have to tape ur mouth shut

loves to take his time with u

will tease and tease until ur screaming

u annoy him so much but he loves fucking u more than anything so eventually he caves

haechan will definitely spit in ur mouth and force u to swallow it

also loves when he brings u to tears

he’s going to overstimulate u

he’s so selfish

i think he’d be into somnophilia

haechan is a good boy though don’t get me wrong

if he’s subbing then he’s very loud and does whatever u say just bc he wants to cum

ofc u let him <3

[eowynstwin]

Hi everyone. It's been a while—exactly a month since I last posted to this blog. How have you been?

A month isn't really all that long, but it's enough time to be able to look at everything that happened and understand it better. In the end, the whole situation (I've been calling it The Fuckening in my head) really didn't have anything to do with me. I was unlucky enough to run across someone willing to hurt anyone they could for attention, but also lucky enough that everyone who mattered to me in this fandom went to bat for me.

So I’ve decided to come back to this blog. I'll be posting about call of duty again as well as posting my writing. I also plan to blog about other fandoms (I’d already been doing it anyway); I've been getting back into rdr2, for example, and there's some writing I'd like to do for that.

There’s more context which I’ll put below the cut, but that’s the most important part of what I have to say; I often regret how long winded I can be, so the rest is just self indulgence if you can forgive it. I’ve thought a lot about this choice and I’m satisfied with my decision. I hope none of you will mind.

So, lol, things were not great outside of fandom stuff when it all kicked off, though I didn’t mention it publicly because we all know by now that asking for any sympathy when you’re the target of a mob is more likely to just get you raked over the coals harder. I’m still not entirely sure about talking about all of this, but I have a bad tendency to clam up when I really should be asking for support. So:

I mentioned briefly before the accusations started flying that I was dealing with bedbugs—turns out it was actually something else, but leading up to a doctor’s visit I was convinced I had an infestation, and I was stripping my bed every day to look for them. I had alarms set to wake me up twice a night to see if I could catch them, so I was not sleeping all that well. I couldn’t find anything, but I had no other explanation, and it was driving me fucking crazy. Post doctor visit it turns out I had a viral infection. No idea where I caught it, and nothing to do but wait it out. I had a massive, gnarly looking rash all over my body, and to add insult to injury I developed a fever that took me out for a whole weekend. (I’m recovered now but I have a nifty new scar on my hip from getting a biopsy.)

Next to that, I was having some PTSD flareups of my own. This was (mostly) unrelated to The Fuckening. Now, I understand that that might be hard to believe, given “Myka’s” claims, and I can’t make you believe me. Nor will I provide details to convince you, other than to say there were some things going on in my neighborhood that recalled a period of time in my life that was extremely unstable, and I found myself irrationally terrified to go home every day. For those of you who don’t experience the symptoms of PTSD, I think it’s appropriate to note that it isn’t just emotional turmoil; I, personally, experience physical pain in my entire body that lingers for hours, days, or even weeks after being triggered. (Everything regarding this, too, is fine now. I have a great therapist and a supportive family.)

All of this to say, I wasn’t exactly thinking rationally when I decided to leave this blog and fandom. And I regretted the decision almost instantly.

However, I didn’t want to let grief make any decisions for me, and also I was still VERY scared Myka was going to hunt down my personal information and either dox or harass me elsewhere. I think this fear was justified; it has happened to other writers in this fandom before.* So I decided to take some time to cool off and watch the situation develop without me.

I don’t think I need to get into the details—although if you’re interested in them, @fulltacs has been keeping track of the drama. Given the most recent development with the four obviously sock puppet blogs that popped up and immediately began stirring shit up again, I realized Myka probably would have done what she did with or without me. I just so happened to give her the ammunition she needed to do something REALLY big. It was pure bad luck.

(Also—and I’m sorry if this is just stirring the pot, but after everything they did to me I feel I deserve to make the accusation—I’ve suspected for a while that the two loudest blogs leading the witch hunt against me were far more involved in this farce than anyone has assumed. I have no proof and I do not want anyone to do anything about it on my behalf, leave them the fuck alone. But I will not forget the distress they caused me for a long fucking time, and the only way for me to let this go is to say my piece. So there. Done. Let that be the end of it.)

Having this hindsight, I feel comfortable coming back. I’m still very touched by everyone’s support, which in the end was louder than the harassment. I also think it’s important for people who care about fighting racism in any community not to run at the first sign of trouble, which I did, and I feel pretty sorry for.

That’s the gist of things. If you’ve read all of this, thank you for doing so!

*I was going to add a paragraph about halfmoth-halfman’s situation but decided against it. For one thing, she wants to be left alone, and for another, talking about the experiences of fans of color, particularly black fans, deserves its own post separate from my white experience, if I should even post about it at all.

[fendiiula]

⸻ punishment , e. jeager x black reader

summary; Eren hates when you get all bratty he hates it even most when you call him out his name You got sappy with him so he has to put you in check

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

“Eren please” he had you bent over while he gave u back shots, he always hated when you got smart with him, it’s like you never learn.

Eren hates being called out his name, earlier you got mad at eren because he liked another girls post and called him ‘bitch’ boy you have never seen him this mad. Not even 1 minute later he grabbed your collar and took you to y’all’s room.

The only words that left his mouth was “strip” you knew if you didn’t comply your punishment would be even worse. So you did exactly as told, the only thing you left on was your underwear you bit your lip while watching him unbuckle his belt, boy was he a sore sight.

His green eyes focus on undoing his belt, his hair slightly falling out of his man bun you knew you were in for a rude awakening. “You wanna act like a fucking brat all the time, this what you fucking want y/n?”

He flipped your body over into doggy but standing up and pushed all of his 9 inches into you no prep no nothing just your wet pussy being enough lube for him. The first thrust was enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

“F-fuck rennn it’s too much” you gasp for air. He knew you were gonna complain about all of him inside you but he knew you all too well, he knows you’ll be able to take him.

“Shut up, you wanna be a brat well this is what brats like you get.” His paste sped up tremendously, you tried to slow him down by putting your hand on his torso but that only just pisses him off.

He grabbed you hands and put them behind your back and continues to pound your pretty pussy.

“Nghh s-shitt y/n” eren felt as though he was on cloud 9 the way you tighted around him everytime he thrusted he could tell you were getting close so he pulled out

“E.j what are yo— ohhh fuckkk” eren stuffed himself in your tight hole all at once. He went faster then he did before and his dick was making your belly fill so fucking full, he smacked your ass so hard it left a tint in your melanated skin. This man drives you so fucking crazy he was fucking you so good you felt like you were seeing stars.

Erens dick started twitching in you and you knew he was getting close. The room was filled with clapping skin, whimpers and moans eren picks up his paste feeling his high coming.

you felt like you were gonna explode any second. “Gah shit I’m cumming I’m c-fuckkk” eren throws his head back as all his kids are now sitting in your pussy. He kept thrusting but it got slower you were so close but before you could cum eren pulls out again.

It takes you a while but you realize that he’s done fucking you, this was your true punishment he was gonna leave You unsatisfied.“eren please I’m sorry j-just please make me cum please I’ll do anything.” You flipped onto your back, Oh how he love to here you beg he looked down at you with a smirk on his face.

You look so gorgeous, sweat dripping down your forehead, runny mascara gasping for air, your cute tummy going up n down while your trying to catch your breath, hard nipples ready for him to suck, and his cum dripping out of your pussy such a beautiful sight.

How could he say no to you, he leaned down for what you thought was a kiss but in reality he told you “then it wouldn’t be a punishment now would it Ma.” He sucked on your neck a little before laying on the bed about to smoke.

“touch yourself and maybe I’ll consider it my love” he smirked while lighting.

[semperama]

Soak + dosh please

This is way too long for tumblr and I'm sorry, but it totally ran away with me. Also there is going to be a Part 2, I promise. Also I'll put it on AO3 later when I can think of a title lmao. Please forgive me because I have no idea how to write Josh yet, but this was fun!!

----

It’s probably crazy for Daniel to be in the back half of his 30s and still feel like a fucking imposter all the time.

He opens the door to Josh tossing a football back and forth from hand to hand, mouth curved into a grin, and has to bite down on the inside of his cheek just until it hurts, just to make sure this is real. He heard a story once—maybe an urban legend—about a man who was in a coma and thought he lived a whole entire life, great job and wife and kids and the whole nine. Sometimes he thinks that could be him. F1 driver, friends with fucking—movie stars and NFL players. It’s all a little much when just a minute ago he was a kid with goofy hair and crooked teeth and a sense of humor no one got.

“Hey,” Josh says, with his stupid handsome face. “Good to see you, man.”

Daniel steps back to let Josh in and wills the blood vessels in his face to fucking cool it. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he jokes. Another thing to be self-conscious about, this stupid-huge house that’s always empty. It’d be great for parties, but Daniel’s never thrown one.

They should have made other plans, Daniel thinks. A concert. A movie. A bar. Hanging out at home—who does that? Teenagers?

“Humble indeed,” Josh says with a chuckle, elbowing Daniel in the ribs as he walks by. “They don’t pay you anything to drive those cars, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m barely scraping by.” Daniel settles into the banter, grateful for it. “Can I get you anything? I have water, stale bread, maybe some mouse droppings…”

Josh throws his head back at that one, his laugh sending electric tingles down Daniel’s spine. “No beer hidden anywhere?” he asks, and Daniel grins at him, indulgent.

“I think I can rustle one up for you, maybe.”

He waves Josh out to the patio and then heads into the kitchen to grab two bottles out of the fridge. It’s the middle of the season, just a couple weeks until he has to be in Austin, so he probably should be sticking to clear liquor if anything, but who’s here to judge him?

“Did you bring that for me?” Daniel asks when he emerges into the sunshine, nodding at the football Josh cradles in one palm as the takes the beer bottle from Daniel with the other.

The corner of Josh’s mouth tilts upward. “You just about creamed yourself last time we tossed the ball around,” he says. “I figured I’d make your day.”

“My year, more like.” Daniel can’t deny it; Josh has his number on this one. “I don’t want you to be bored, though. You do this for a living.”

“You ever get tired of racing?” Josh asks.

Daniel chuckles, shaking his head. “Touche.”

There’s no grassy field behind Daniel’s house to play in, but they make do with the long strip of pool deck, all the chairs pushed to the side. At first, they just toss the ball back and forth lazily. That’s honestly enough for Daniel, just watching the satisfying spiral of the ball and feeling the slap of leather against his palms. It’s warm and breezy and Josh keeps grinning at him—he could do it all fucking day.

But eventually he gets antsy, wants to make sure Josh is still having fun, so he starts trying to make things difficult, prancing back and forth, sometimes running to the other side of the pool. It feels better when Josh is laughing at him. It feels like he’s pulling his weight.

“Come on, really throw one,” he says, holding his hands up in preparation. Josh chuckles at him, pulls his arm back, hesitates, and then lets it fly. This time, when it hits Daniel’s hands, the sound is loud, echoing. It fucking stings.

Daniel wants it again.

“Is that, like, your maximum?” he asks as he lobs it back.

Josh grins and shakes his head. “Nah, man. I don’t want to hurt you. You gotta be able to hold a steering wheel in a few days.”

“Oh, come on,” Daniel says, hopping from foot to foot and shaking out his arms. “You won’t hurt me. I can take it.”

Josh quirks and eyebrow at him. “You sure do talk a big talk, Ricciardo.”

All the blood rushes to Daniel’s face. He can only hope he’s already red enough from exertion and the sun that Josh won’t notice. Josh seems so fucking implacable, but Daniel’s been soaked in sweat and breathing hard for a while now, his t-shirt clinging to his chest. He pinches the fabric and unsticks it, letting some of the breeze in, but doesn’t help much.

“Just once,” Daniel says, unable to help the pleading note in his voice. “I want to know what it’s like.”

Josh walks over to the table near the house where their sweating beer bottles sit and takes a long swig. Daniel watches the bob of his throat, watches him lick the moisture from his bottom lip when he sets the bottle back down. When he turns back toward Daniel, he starts tossing the ball from hand to hand again, putting a spin on it, the silence stretching until it makes Daniel’s skin prickle with discomfort.

“Alright,” Josh says at last, “but I don’t want to hear your crying if it hurts.” He beckons Daniel with two fingers. “Come here. I need to show you how to catch it first.”

“I know how to catch it,” Daniel says, but he jogs over anyway.

“You know how to catch a ball thrown by a buddy,” Josh says. When Daniel stops a couple feet away, Josh lunges for his wrist and drags him in closer. “You don’t know how to catch a pass thrown by one of the most powerful arms in the NFL.”

“Fuck,” Daniel says, embarrassingly, out loud. He jerks his wrist out of Josh’s hand and wipes his palms on his shorts. “Fine, fine. Show me, then.”

Josh tucks the ball into his armpit, then cups his hands together, a foot or so out from his chest. “This is the way you have been catching it,” he says. “Which is good if you’re a professional receiver. But this time—” He brings his hands to his chest and turns his palms upward— “let it hit your chest first and kinda fall into your hands.”

He motions for Daniel to show him, and Daniel mimics his hand placement as best he can, hands cupped near his stomach. Josh rolls his eyes and puts his hands under Daniel’s, nudging them upward and squeezing, molding them into the shape he wants. His fingers are softer than Daniel thought they’d be, maybe a little callused but still gentle. Daniel can feel his heart thundering against his ribs, and he can only hope Josh can’t feel it too, close as he is.

“And, uh,” Daniel says, voice cracking, “what’ll happen if I don’t to it right?”

“Oh, nothin’ much.” Josh grins, winks at him. “Just a broken finger or two, maybe. But I hear you already have some experience with that anyway.”

Daniel lets out a nervous, high-pitched giggle. “Christ.”

“I’m just messing with you,” Josh says. “I’ve never broken anyone’s fingers.” He pushes on Daniel’s shoulder, like he’s trying to wrestle some of the tension out of him, then points past Daniel’s ear to the far side of the pool. “Go to that corner over there. Then put your hands like I showed you. I’ll put the ball where it needs to be, and you’ll be fine.”

If Josh keeps talking like that, Daniel’s pretty sure he’s going to embarrass the hell out of himself. His shorts are too loose, too thin, and he’s already half hard in them. He wonders, sometimes, if players get like this during games, if it’s normal to be turned on by the perfect tight spiral or the smack of leather against your skin. He’s not sure if it’s the game, the thrill of it, or if it’s Josh, all that power right up close, all of it focused on Daniel.

He turns and jogs back over to the far side of the pool, getting as close to the edge of the deck as he dares. Sweat is dripping into his eyes, and swiping a forearm across his head doesn’t help much. After this, a cold shower. He fucking needs it.

“Alright,” Josh calls to him, “you ready?”

Daniel puts his hands in position and looks to Josh for approval. “Like this?”

“That’s fine,” Josh says. “A little higher, maybe.” Daniel brings his hands up another inch, and Josh nods at him. “That’s good. Now…don’t move.”

The windup feels like it takes forever. Daniel watches Josh’s arm, the bulge of his bicep, the way the muscles of his forearm shift as he brings the football up past his ear. His feet jig a little, his body arcs back. The expression on his face—it’s like he’s already so fucking pleased with himself, and he ball hasn’t even left his hand yet. Daniel wants to reach down and adjust himself, but he can’t move. He isn’t allowed to move. Josh told him not to.

Then, suddenly, the ball is shooting through the air, so fast Daniel can’t even track it like he should. Good thing Josh is a pro and didn’t need Daniel to track it. It hits his chest right where it was supposed to, so hard it nearly knocks the wind out of him, and his fingers curl around it instinctively, hugging it into his body.

“Holy fuck, mate,” Daniel says in disbelief. His palms are still stinging from the last throw, and now his chest aches, and—he feels like he’s losing his mind, but he wants more. It’s still not enough. He wants to catch ten more passes like this. Twenty. He wants his whole chest to hurt, his whole body to be one big bruise.

“You okay?” Josh says, and suddenly he’s right there in front of Daniel again, prying the football out of his hands. “All good?”

“Yeah, I—” Unthinkingly, Daniel reaches down and lifts up the hem of his shirt, looks down at his chest. He expected—maybe was hoping—to see a mark there already, but the skin is just a little red, a faint starburst in the center of his breastbone.

“You’ll have a hell of a bruise there tomorrow,” Josh says. He pokes the spot with two fingers, and the throb of pain makes Daniel’s dick throb in sympathy. If Josh looks down, Daniel’s fucked.

Of course, Josh does look down.

“Hmm.” The sound comes from somewhere deep in Josh’s chest, and this time Daniel’s whole body throbs. “Is that for me? Or the ball?”

That nervous laugh bubbles out of Daniel’s mouth again. He feels so fucking unsexy right now, like he’s in one of those nightmares where’s he’s shown up to school in his underwear. “I dunno, dude,” he says. “You get a personal demonstration of the talent of someone you admire and see how you react.”

“Mhm,” Josh hums again, thoughtfully this time. “No, I know.”

He touches Daniel again, pressing his thumb against the spot on Daniel’s chest and rubbing gently. Anymore of this, and Daniel’s going to have to climb out of his own skin. He takes a deep, shaky breath and pastes on a smile, then steps backward so Josh’s hand is hovering in midair, nothing left to touch.

“Anyway.” Daniel steps out of his shoes. He tugs his shirt off the rest of the way, refusing to notice whether Josh is still looking or not. “I gotta get out of this heat. You coming?”

He’s a coward, but he doesn’t wait for Josh’s answer, only steps around him and takes a flying leap into the pool. The cool water closes over his head like relief. He floats there, weightless, until his lungs burn.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

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🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️

I‘m also a bit curious about this one I think?

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

Ah yay! Thanks!

30 for ➰:

tagging @steadfastsaturnsrings

---

Eddie stares at him for a moment, like deciding how he wants to answer. He can see the gears turning behind those brown eyes. Buck wishes he wouldn’t do that. He wishes he’d just tell him whatever the truth is. They’re supposed to be a team. 

“Yeah,” he says finally. “Yeah, it’s just guilt. Sorry.”

Was that so fucking hard?

“Well, don’t worry about today, okay?” Buck rests a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it. We’ll do better tomorrow.”

But Eddie does it again. The long, processing stare. Eventually, he sighs. Conciliatory. He leans his head against Buck’s still-wet shoulder. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “You’re right.”

Buck kisses the top of his head. 

“It’s okay. Just… Stop shutting me out, okay? We’re in this together now.”

Eddie doesn’t quite reply. He just grabs Buck’s hand and squeezes it so tightly it actually hurts. 

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

An hour later, the three of them are swimming in the deep end of the pool when one of Rachel’s kids jumps off the diving board just a little too close to them. Clearly the kid isn’t paying any attention. His leg smacks into Buck, knocking Buck’s head back so it cracks hard against the cement side of the pool. 

He doesn’t remember anything after a sharp thwack of pain. 

---

30 for 🛏️:

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Considering Eddie is straight, that’s not gonna be an issue. 

“He doesn’t want to be alone in that house right now, Tommy!” Buck replies, exasperated. “Can you try to be sympathetic?”

Tommy nods. “Okay, so it’s the house? Christopher not being there?”

“Yes,” Buck agrees. “It’s that.”

“Fine,” Tommy says. “So he can’t stay with his aunt who has a whole house?” 

What the fuck is Tommy? The bedroom arrangement police?

“He’s more comfortable at my place,” Buck replies.

“And you never thought of switching?” Tommy asks. “Like, if it’s just about the house and Chris, you could stay at his and he could stay at the loft.”

What the fuck is he talking about? 

“That’s crazy,” Buck replies. 

“Is it? Is it crazier than two grown men, one of whom is in a relationship with another man, sharing a bed indefinitely?” 

“You’re making it sound like we’re Charlie and Frank on It’s Always Sunny or something,” Buck huffs. 

“I hate that show,” Tommy wrinkles his nose. 

“You would,” Buck rolls his eyes. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tommy demands. 

“It means you have a problem with everything today!” Buck snaps. “Eddie isn’t leaving and I’m not asking him to.”

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30 for 🔼:

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He doesn’t. He doesn’t blame Buck. He doesn’t blame Shannon. Why wouldn’t they want to kiss each other? They’re both… Well, they’re them. 

Eddie needs to say that, though. He needs to say anything. But instead, he’s red faced and breathing heavily and probably looks sort of angry. He’s not angry. He’s trying really hard to not get hard and the facial effect is similar. 

“Eddie?” Shannon asks again. 

Speak, Eddie. Use your fucking mouth. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. 

Shannon blinks, confused. “Why are you sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for - I did this!”

“I… I’m not…” Eddie tries. He tries, but he doesn’t know how to explain himself. He simply doesn’t have the vocabulary. Saying how he feels about matters like these has been stripped from his vocabulary.

Shannon tilts her head a little. Narrows her eyes. Like she’s scanning him, trying to get a read on him. If anyone could, it’s Shannon. 

“You aren’t mad,” she whispers.