#Part 2 pajamas

[i-cast-teatus-deletus]

Clothing - Pajamas (Part 1)

I did a phenomenal amount of legwork when it came to pajamas. There are tons and tons of websites out there that sell "plus size pajamas" and it turns out they go up to a 2X, also a 2X on their size chart is a US 16/18. Most of the search results for the first WEEK OR TWO didn't result in anything appropriate that was ALSO made of a tolerable fabric. I know exactly how long a recycled polyester pajama bottom is going to last, unfortunately. If this is a pair of pajamas that you likely won't use again after you've recovered, it's less of an issue, but I am trying to buy stuff that's a little more durable than that.

So you can imagine my shock and delight when I came across Land's End. I recognized the name, but I had never purchased anything from them, and this seemed as good a time as any to try.

Firstly, if you buy anything on the LE website and you're getting anything less than 50% off of the list price, you're getting scammed. They routinely have 60-75% off coupon codes, and usually there's a code already in effect on the website, a separate code for coupon sites (possibly multiples?), and a code for the mailing list at any given time. None of these three is always the best price, it will typically depend on what you're buying, and I highly recommend you try all of the codes at checkout to see if you can lower your total.

I ended up, if you can believe it, putting in THREE orders in a relatively short span of time (7 or 8 weeks, as I recall), mostly buying various clearance items to try them out. Not everything I bought was pajamas, obviously, but I'll highlight the pajamas that fit the theme here

I really loved the flannel pajamas, which are 100% cotton, sold separately as tops and bottoms, come up to a 3X and, inexplicably, fit me PERFECTLY. I'm used to clothes being wrong in at least one dimension, but their 3X is the correct length and everything. I love it so much I went and bought more pairs of flannel pajamas, and I got compliments on the pattern that I chose. It's a really warm and durable flannel, too, not like a lot of the cheap stuff most places use for pajamas.

They also have a flannel sleepshirt, which I also am quite fond of (especially as a light robe), that buttons up the front. I also bought, as mentioned before, a shirt/shorts set of their Tencel pajamas. They also have robes in a wide variety of fabrics, though I haven't bought any of those yet.

If you need to go larger, or find the patterns too feminine, they sell men's pajamas as well, up to a 4X, though I was less impressed with the men's pajamas pants that I bought. The flannel pants I bought in a 4X have been pilling already.

Unrelated to pajamas, though, I did buy some of their men's underwear (boxer briefs) and have been SUPER impressed with how comfortable and durable they are. If you're in the market for boxer briefs above a 2X (like I had been for years), they are definitely a place to look. I also bought a pack of cotton boxers from them, which were also really nice (though I wear them a little less often than the boxer briefs), but especially for surgery recovery (and especially wearing them as shorts) they are really great.

[ellieabbyy]

just a girl, not a threat.

[lovers-instead]

My back is to the world that was smiling when I turned.

[ctutj]

[maggplays]

Frogs of Summer

A variation on Frogs of Fall, this was my original idea that morphed midway through. All hail the frog pajamas, who knew such an innocent post would take us here!

My apologies to Sam, I'll make it up to him later, if you thought Frogs of Fall was bad... oh dear. Please don't kill me, I'll write a part 2 at some point soon, promise!

Sebastian/fem farmer (Raven OC) NSFW: mild language, sexual content (toes touching the smut line) | Quick read ~1400 words (only Raven's POV this time)

Read on AO3 here: Frogs of Summer

Related: Frogs of Fall

Frogs of Summer

It’s early, but not that early. The sun rose not too long ago but the air is already sweltering, heavy in my lungs. Even wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt, I���m sweating in the dead summer heat. I check my watch one more time before resting my hand on the door. Nine o’clock. The handle turns and the door swings open. I step inside, reveling in the cool air rushing to meet me. “Hello, Raven!” Robin’s cheerful voice greets me as I step up to the counter, she winks and nudges the catalogue towards me, eager for another big project. I glance toward the dark shadow of the basement stairs.

“Hehe! I should’ve guessed, you’re here to catch Sebby before he starts work. Well, you didn’t have to come by this early, he’s never up before 10:30. Wait, wait! Since you’re here, I want your opinion on my latest masterpiece. Right over here, what do you think?” Robin practically bounces over to a sheet-covered project, dramatically whisking the fabric up and letting it fly behind her to settle on the counter. 

I’m greeted by an intricately carved bed frame, four posters featuring vine patterns and leaves twining up the spindles and ending in blooming lotus flowers. It’s… incredible!

“I haven’t decided if I want to paint it or leave it the natural wood grain. I’m leaning towards natural, what do you think?” 

-Yawn- “I like the wood grain… did you get milk?” Sebastian’s velvety voice caresses my ear and my heart leaps. Even though he obviously just woke up, he sounds… I slowly turn as time stutters to a halt. Sebastian is rubbing his eyes, his hair wild, a pillow crease across one cheek. He hasn’t seen me yet, his fingers run back through his hair, then up as he reaches for the ceiling, arching his back and yawning, shirt riding up and exposing his belly… Oh… holy… My eyes widen and my heart tries to escape my chest as my gaze drifts down to his belly button and a tidy line of dark hair marching straight down between the angle of his hips to his dangerously-low waistband. My lungs struggle for air as my lips part, I'm gaping like a fish but can’t do anything about it… his pajama pants are well-worn, stretched out at the waist with frayed ties hanging loose. Little faded cartoon frogs frolic merrily across the fabric, dancing and catching dragonflies. One little frog seems to smirk then wink as it peeks out from behind the pajama fly. Rising up on his toes, Sebastian is fully committed to the stretch, as I unabashedly stare.

“SEBASTIAN!!” Robin’s voice rockets through the room, shocking Sebastian out of his languid stupor. He blinks, disoriented, then meets my gaze. Pupils dilating in those slate gray eyes, he starts to smile before a flush of red flares up his throat and over his cheeks as he yanks at his shirt hem. “Don’t just wander out of your room like that, this is a business! There are people here! Get your skinny ass back downstairs and put on some clothes, boy, you’re lucky it was Raven and not a client from Zuzu City!” The air snaps and crackles in irritation, I sheepishly glance down at my own clothes to make sure they look alright. 

“I uh, sorry, I didn’t… R-Raven? Oh god…” Spinning on his heel, Sebastian leaps for the stairs. I blink. Before propriety can stop me, I chase after Seb, hot on his heels as we scramble down the steps. He flings the door open, and I fly through right behind him, whirling to shut it firmly behind me, the cooler basement air washing over my body, lifting my hair. I press my back against the wooden panels, chest heaving. Sebastian is inches in front of me, eyes wide, mouth agape, panting… What did I just do? I’ve been in his room many times but this feels different. I literally just chased a half-dressed man into his bedroom and slammed the door! Oh Yoba, there’s no graceful way out of this one…

Tick… tick… tick… the clock on the wall and my pounding heart are all I can hear. I half expect Robin to burst through the door, but there is no sound from the stairs. -Gulp- “Seb… I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking… I’ll leave.” I force the words out, barely a whisper. Sebastian steps forward, his hand moving up, touching my face… so light… 

“Please… please don’t go,” he breathes, caressing my skin, my eyes flickering shut. Tick… tick… tick… Air rushes into my lungs and my body moves on its own, arms reaching out to close the gap between us, the fabric of Sebastian’s shirt catching then sliding beneath my palms until my hands meet behind his neck. My face pressed against his skin. Warm, safe. Sebastian’s breath is ragged in my ear, his arms snaking behind my back and tightening as warm lips brush my cheek. “Raven… I’ve wanted to hold you like this for so long…” The full length of his body is pressed against mine, the thin fabric of his pajamas doing nothing to disguise his form, the little frogs on his pants tickle my bare legs, teasing.

“There’s frogs on your pajamas,” I whisper. He chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. I look up and smile, his eyes shimmering gray pools in the dim light. 

“I like frogs.” His lips touch mine, soft and gentle, tentative, unsure. A tingling rush flows to my core, igniting a fire and deep ache within. I gasp and press more firmly against him, my tongue touching his lips, they immediately part to let me in. A whimpering moan caresses my ears as he curls his tongue around mine, I feel him hardening, pressing against me, searching… “D-do you want to… can we…” I shift my weight, wrapping one leg around his, leaning against him, feeling him surge in response. Mmmm that’s nice… I slide one hand down his chest, lifting his shirt, and running my fingers along the frayed waistband, the edges of elastic poking through where the fabric has worn away. Sassy little frogs peek from the gathered fabric, they seem to blush as if they know what’s coming. My fingers slip easily under the tired band, raising goosebumps on Sebastian’s pale skin. He’s not wearing any boxers. Damn. The downy hair of his happy trail meets coarser, curly strands. He sucks air and digs into my back as my fingertips touch the sensitive skin of his tip, a bead of moisture eliminating friction as my trembling fingers explore, breath shallow, heart racing.

Scrape… thunk… thunk… heavy feet racing down the stairs… “SEB! YOU DOWN THERE?” The door slams open, narrowly missing my back… “Heya-,” Ooof!! Sam’s momentum carries him through the door, piling into me and Sebastian, air rushes from my lungs, Sebastian’s arms pinwheeling, “AAAAAGH!!” THUD! Black… can’t see… lungs frantically gasping for air… Sebastian groaning as he tries to curl into a ball, Sam sprawled out on top of us. 

“Oh shit… oh god… ehhhehehhh,” Sebastian’s tortured whimpers reach my ears as air rushes back into my lungs and I blink. I’m in the middle of a man sandwich, Sebastian grabbing his crotch and Sam squirming on top, trying to roll off. If Sebastian hadn’t gotten such a beating, it would have been funny… well, maybe not. I shift to the side, unceremoniously dumping Sam on the floor, giving Sebastian room to breathe through his misery. 

“Seb! Oh man, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, I swear! Uh, are you okay? Raven! I didn’t mean to kill him, really!” Sam leans over Sebastian, obviously concerned that he’d irreparably damaged his friend. Sebastian seems to have recovered, I catch a glint in his eye as his leg shoots out, snagging Sam’s foot and landing him flat on his back, spread-eagle. Gasping. “Dude! Okay, I deserved that… wait… were you guys just… ohhhhh damn… hehe! I’m going to be paying for this for a while, huh?”

Sebastian’s mouth twitches, “In ways you can’t even imagine.”

[flowermist7432]

Theres something so frustrating about the fact going outside, reading, biking, getting dressed everyday and journaling DOES help mental health. Like what do you mean this actually feels amazing??? and while I am not cured- it has significantly improved me as a person.

I use to HATE going outside and the idea of laying in the grass under a tree wigged me out cause it felt more performative at the time rather than succeeding. U couldnt read and the bugs and sun and uncomfortable grass felt awful. But it turns out all i had to do was find a better Park with lushes green clover grass, a blanket and a book i actually enjoyed reading for me to get comfortable.

[beatheprincess]

MY HALLOWEEN OUTFITS CAME EARLY SO HERES MY HAUL🧡🖤💜😈

[fuckingpajamas]

Boyscord [Out of Context] 2/?

boyscord out of context | 1 2 join the boyscord here

[duskerot]

i forgot how much i love making character model sheets

[ttsukiimi]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ B⍣CKSHOTS MAKE YOU FEEL RELIEVED!

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ After the kids leave to a friend’s, it’s just you and your husband. You and a 6 foot 2 s⍣x addict who’s not afraid of f⍣cking another child into you.

★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ toji x fem!reader, smut (mdni), breeding k⍣nk, stomach bulge, unprotected, implied breeding k⍣nk, implied size difference, bigd⍣ck!toji, established relationship, reader referred to as (baby, princess.)

“Toji—“

“C’mon, baby. Know you want it too.”

“I do but—“

“You do. So open your legs ‘n let me have my way with you.”

All you could do was nod and watch as the bigger, built man on top of you smirked—and, fuck you could just die right then and there from the way his eyes hungrily surveyed your body, practically undressing you of the skimpy set of pajamas you had on.

Toji licked his lips, tongue sliding over his scar as his large hands made way to your core. “Promise I’ll take good care of this pussy.”

A blink and he already had your bottoms off, whistling to himself as he instantly found a wet spot on your panties. You looked away and he chuckled, his thick fingers already moving the material aside and swiping up your folds.

“Dirty girl.”

You whimpered from the contact and instinctively tried to close your legs around his arm—to no avail, of course. To think Toji would let you deprive him of even a second of seeing the succulent sight of your cunt is laughable.

Watching as he frees himself from his sweats, your mouth waters. You’re proud to say your husband is well over average, and feeling it inside you is a whole other level

. Feeling Toji Fushiguro inside you is as if taking two average cocks at the same time. You throb at the thought, eyes already rolling back from the stimulation his fingers provided.

“Eyes up here,” your body obeys quicker than your brain, and you’re giving him those ‘innocent’, succubus eyes that you know he can’t resist. The same look that got you here in the first place.

“Hurry, want it so bad,” you whined, pulling him down to your lips with your arms around his neck, grinding against the tip pathetically. “Please.”

And who was Toji to resist such temptation?—he could never say no to such a needy wife such as you.

So, with one swift snap of his hips, he was fully immersed in your wet heat, sucking his teeth as he felt your walls clamp down on him so tightly. Toji’s hands gripped on your hips harshly, steadying both you and him for the onslaught of thrusts to come.

You looked up to his eyes, tears already falling from yours, strings of moans pouring from your open lips. Toji has never loved a sight—a sound so much.

Your moans spurred him on more than anything, causing that rapid smack! of skin to skin contact he loves oh, so much. So much it has his head spinning and his body trembling in euphoria.

He looked down, sweat dripping from his forehead and a thin sheen on his body, groaning as he saw himself moving inside of you. “Look at that,” he hummed, approval and pride laced within his voice, pressing a hand to your lower stomach where the bulge formed. “Feel that, princess? That’s me.”

From that point on, Toji was set on making you feel every part of him. His pace quickened and his words were dirtier, his touches lit fires of temptation on your skin in their wake, and his overwhelming presence alone had you ready to cum at any moment.

“Y’know, I been thinking..” his voice was deep, intriguing. “It’s about time I put a baby in ya.”

[8lyme]

Heat Rises

Logan Howlett x f!Reader

SUMMARY: The mansion is boiling hot

WARNINGS: excessive use of italicisation, borderline dirty thoughts, makeout scene bc that's the best i can do, maybe ooc bc I fear I imagine Logan a little funnier than he actually is.

a/n: the ac in my room broke and inspiration struck after I doomscrolled through wolverine edits on tiktok ... chat i love men

It was hot. Boiling. Stifling.

You woke up at 2 a.m. drenched in sweat, sucking in a deep breath of hot, stale air. Grogginess fading, you stumble from your bed while pulling of your shirt and pajama pants. You open the door to the bathroom and turn the cold water on in the sink.

The heat was dripping down your back despite your lack of clothing. Overheating and still half-asleep, you stuck your head into the stream of cold water, splashing over your neck and across your shoulders.

You straighten to tie your hair up before turning the water off and running your still cold hands down your arms. The patter of thudding sounded outside your door, and you move to dress in a thin tank top and shorts.

You let your eyes adjust to the light as you began walking down the hallway of the mansion. A few children slipped out of their rooms in similar sweaty conditions to follow you down the staircase and onto the main floor.

Gathered by the professor's office were Scott, Storm, and Jean. The stray young mutants who trailed you settling around them.

"Goodmorning," You call out the the group.

"Do you know who turned this place into a boiler?" Jean asks. You both swipe sweat off your foreheads in sync while you shrug, shaking your head.

"Jesus, my glasses are gonna slide off my face," Scott complains, knocking his head against the wall in exasperation. He was shirtless, (rightfully so) wearing what you guessed were swim trunks.

"Charles is working on it," Jean put a hand on his shoulder, then quickly removing it to wipe his sweat off her hand and down the wall.

You turn to Storm, who was pulling the fabric of her tank top to fan herself off.

"Do we know where Bobby is?" You ask in search of the Iceman. You turned to scan the room, addressing the three students who followed you.

"Pretty sure him and Rogue took off before lights out," a young girl from the floor calls out. Her mutation rubberized her molecules, and her legs were in misshapen puddles - akin to flat stanley - due to the heat.

"Christ, it's fuckin' hot in here," a familiar voice groans loudly from behind you. "Nice shorts." Logan said to you before reaching your side.

"Alright fashion police," you respond in mock annoyance, offering a small smile at him. "Didn't know you worked this late."

He shot you a wink before turning away. When you caught full sight of him, your face froze and (if possible) more sweat rolled down your spine.

It was sickening how attractive he managed to look in what felt like the inside of an air fryer. Having clearly just woken up, his hair was perfectly tousled into a messier version of his normal tufts. His hair hardly looked damp despite the oiled-up glow he had on his face ...

And torso.

Fuck he was shirtless.

Although you've known Logan for the better part of a year, you unfortunately failed to experience him half-dressed. You'd been in close proximity frequently - sparring and other various training taking a large percent of that. You were friendly with each other, his acknowledgement of you with a nod whenever you walked in a room affirming he didn't hate you. You normally ate breakfast together, often offering the other the last portion of cereal or setting aside an extra cup of coffee for whoever entered the kitchen second. Within the last few months, however, after a particularly unfortunate mission gone wrong in almost every way, your friendship became more affectionate in those 'off the clock' moments.

Quick but firm hugs, slinging his arm over your shoulders, nudging each other with elbows or hips at inside jokes. He'd also been placing a hand on your back or shoulder every time he was in proximity to do so when moving behind you; in the kitchen, during briefings, even while you were grading papers in the library. He would touch your shoulder to let you know he was moving past you or going to sit next to you.

All that is to say you were aware - in theory - he was well built. He was taller and broader than you, so you made an educated guess. Theory proven, but well beyond expectations.

A month ago, you and Scott had stopped at a Texas Roadhouse an hour outside of the city after having spent two weeks clearing out a mutant experimentation lab in eastern Quebec. The plump and shine of the appetizer rolls (that you and Scott had both equally asked for seconds of) had absolutely nothing on Logan.

He damn near glistened. The dim light of the mansion sconces bronzed his skin, cutting him into an even more defined picture for you to look at. His chest expanded with each breath, shoulders and pecs slightly flexing in response. His hands lazed on his hips, if even possible causing the room's shadows to shade in the dips of his biceps and forearms. The veins of his arms just barely covered by the moisture-slicked hair covering his skin. If you had a fork and knife, you would throw them behind you to happily eat a piece of him with your hands.

You had to force yourself to swallow to shock your brain into looking anywhere else. You made an 'eaugh' sound and swiped your hands across your face. You meant it defensively, but you really were dripping into your eyes.

"I feel like I'm being waterboarded," you say disgustedly while wiping your palms on the back of your shorts. Feeling a texture that wasn't fabric, you turned your head. Glancing down, you understood Logan's earlier comment.

These shorts must have been from your freshman year of high school that somehow never got tossed or donated. They were a pair of (very) short, low-cut and dull pink velour Juicy Couture shorts with the word 'Juicy' spelled out in rhinestones on the ass. You actually felt like hurling as your body got even hotter.

You slowly turned your face away from the glittery stones on your booty to unfortunately glance in Scott's direction. His hands covering his mouth to block how obviously he was holding in a laugh.

"Scott, don't even look at me right now," you groan in exasperation, crossing your arms over yourself in attempted modesty. Scott's eyes glitter, and you snap "Keep your mouth shut" at him to no avail.

"Do your shorts say Juicy on your ass?" He snickers. "In rhinestones?"

He's cracking up now with his hands in fists over his mouth. Jean bites a smile away and looks down, shaking to stifle a giggle. You look across the room to the kids who are choking down laughter themselves.

"Oh my fucking God-uh!" you again groan out, covering your eyes. "I really liked Jersey Shore when I was in High School, guys, leave me alone!"

Storm bursts into a laugh that inspires the others to join in. You're cracking up too, mortification disappearing. You glance at Logan through your fingers, who surprisingly seems to be choking back a laugh himself.

"Storm, can't you make it snow or something to-", Logan clears his throat. "Save her from embarrassment?"

"Not how it works," She says. "I can't pull cold air or moisture out of this heat to create any snow." She looks at you and winks. "Sorry J-Wow, the shorts are staying on."

Scott about keels over with a snort before Jean thwaps him in the shoulder.

"If we bring you enough bags of ice, could you use that to cool the building down then?" Jean asks.

"In theory," Storm says. "I can stay here with the students to wait for the professor if you all don't mind searching for some. I'll need to conserve energy if I have to create a blizzard out of thin air."

"Copy. Divide and conquer," you say glancing at Logan again. The four of you turn to wander the mansion, but you stop to turn back to Storm.

"Also," you call back to her. "I'm so obviously Snooki."

Scott barks a laugh from the other corridor as you trot after Logan. He turns to meet you with a confused look on his face.

"What the fuck is a Snooki?"

---

Logan daydreamed about upper-cutting Scott with his claws unsheathed. He fantasized about throwing him down the stairs and curb-stomping him after. He imagined speeding over him on his own motorcycle and drilling him into the asphalt.

Right now, as your face flushed with embarrassment over your bedazzled booty shorts, he wished he had enacted any of those in reality so he had never, ever, heard Scott say a word about your ass.

Logan was used to waking up in a sweat, heart racing as he yelled out in anger (or fear, he couldn't tell which) from the nightmare that slipped from him the longer his eyes were open.

This time, he awoke uncomfortably hot and sprawled out diagonally above his sheets. He pushed himself up onto his knees and rubbed his eyes. He took a beat to wake himself up and stared at the clock on his nightstand blinking at 2:00 am.

He found it impossibly hotter in the hallway, swiping his palms on his pants every few steps. He regretted not scouring his room for shorts or even a pair of briefs. He moved down the stairs and rounded, following the sound of conversation. He dragged his sweaty palms across his pants again, groaning out; "Christ, it's fuckin' hot in here".

And then he almost tripped over his own feet.

You stood facing away from him, hands clasped on top of your head, in the tiniest clothing humanly possible. You wore a thin, strappy little yellow tank top that ghosted just under your ribs. In the dimmed lighting, your skin glistened, droplets of sweat gliding down your neck, your spine - fucking hell, was your sweat turning him on? - down your lower back, and -

Logan just about stopped in his tracks.

Impossibly tiny pink shorts clung to your ass, riding low on your hips. In glittering rhinestone, the word Juicy was bedazzled over the fabric. He felt like a dumb moth to a flame, trying to look like he wasn't seconds away from using his hands for some workplace misconduct.

"Nice shorts," he managed, trying to shake his head clear.

"Alright fashion police," you smirked up at him. "Didn't know you worked this late."

He winked at you, turning away to avoid staring at the beads sliding down your collar bone. Trying even harder to not imagine where the droplets would travel next.

Too focused on thinking about anything else in the world other than you, he blinked back into reality after Scott's voice grated his ears.

"Do your shorts say Juicy on your ass? In rhinestones?"

Whatever you or anyone else responds with falls on his deaf ears. The only thing he can hear is the pounding of his heart and the rush of blood. His face tightened and he clenched his jaw.

He coughed to clear his head and interject into whatever conversation he's too furious to tune in to.

"Storm, can't you make it snow or something to-", Logan paused, coughing again to catch himself from saying anything related to freezing Scott solid so he can shatter him to pieces. He settled on "Save her from embarrassment?"

Once again, Logan half-listened and half-internally plotted extreme violence, perking back in at the sound of your voice. He turned to you as you catch up with him.

"What the fuck is a Snooki?"

---

You declined to continue to explain trash TV to Logan. You settled on "It's entertaining to watch people be out of touch with reality", to which he quipped back a "That's stupid", effectively shutting you up.

The both of you wandered to the kitchen, you fanning yourself as Logan tried not to burst a blood vessel while holding to his willpower to not watch you tilt your head back and exhale while uttering whines of complaint. He decided the amount that his was sweating coupled with the lack of sleep made him delusional. That's why his brain kept trailing back to the same thought: you.

You pulled open the bottom drawer of the fridge, exposing the freezer. The rush of cool air fanned at your skin, and you signed in relief.

"Logan," you call, eyes closed. You waved him over and he leaned next to you.

"Oh my god," he quietly uttered out, eyes closing in relief. "Oh my god, this is better than sex."

You snorted and slapped your hand to your mouth.

"Logan, shut the fuck up" you giggle. He snickers back with you, shoulders shaking.

"Aw man," you groan, staring into the freezer drawer. Inside, there was an empty popsicle box, an half-eaten pint of strawberry ice cream, and an unwrapped ice-cream sandwich with freezer burn. You and Logan met each other's eyes with matching disappointed expressions.

You shut the freezer drawer, straightening up.

"I think there's a freezer in the basement lab," Logan says, sweat instantly beginning to drip down his neck.

"Aw man," you respond, lifting your arms slightly as sweat slides down you as well.

"Come on, bub," He moves around behind you. You feel the familiar ghost of his fingers against your back, but you recoil away at the thought of more heat against your body.

Logan yanked his hand away like he had been burned, gaze raking from you to his hand. You keep walking, not realizing how far behind you he's trailing.

---

He tries to shake it off, he really does. He feels stupid for letting something so small seep into his head and twist his thoughts around.

It's just because it's hot, he thinks to himself. Rationally, yes, he knows that is the answer. And yet he stupidly can't help but overthink every interaction he's had with you.

He masks it with a stony expression. The walk to the elevator is sticky and humid. When you both step in, he strays as far away from you as he can.

You've felt the shift in energy from him. He's pressed against the curved wall, arms crossed over his chest. It's palpable, but you aren't the type to pry when Logan is brooding.

He slips out of the opening doors first, relinquishing in the slightly cooler air of the lab. You trail after.

The air is awkward now. You fumble in your brain for the right words to say to him. 'Are you okay?' doesn't seem to cut it.

You've come to understand Logan. He has a complicated relationship with feelings and is awful at communication. If you don't notice the energy shift and bring it up, it isn't getting spoken about.

You follow him to a white metal crate pressed near a cabinet of saline. It's clasped shut and luckily on wheels. The precipitation on the outside confirming this is what you were looking for.

You place your hands on the corners of the crate to slide it from the wall, but Logan damn near rips it out of your hands. He shoves it across the lab towards the elevator.

You stare at him in shock and confusion. Your thoughts whir as you replay every moment from the entire day, convinced that he's pissed at you. He seems pissed. He's acting pissed.

You reach the elevator just as the door slides open. You're trying to decide if you should say something. Trying to think of a way to approach this in a way that will actually get him to talk. The air in the elevator is thick, more so with his shift in attitude than with heat.

Logan is locking himself inside his head. He can’t organize his thoughts and all he feels is stupidity. He can't understand why he's over analyzing, much less what he's over analyzing.

He doesn't know it's basically radiating off of him. Unaware that you've been staring at him to try and decipher what's wrong.

You utter out "Are you okay?" just to cut through the thick silence (and hopefully the wall he's locked himself in). You're sure he hears you, but the sliding of the door gives him the perfect opportunity to continue to ignore you.

Again, you trail after him. The wheels scrape against the hardwood, a testament to how hard he is pressing into the metal.

You're confused, sweaty, and almost on the verge of nonconsensual tears when you reach Storm and the other kids. The girl from the floor has turned into mostly puddle. Everything besides the tip of her shoulders and up are deflated to the wood. The other kids have spread to the floor themselves.

Logan shoves the crate towards Storm.

"Alright," he says curtly, once again crossing his arms. "Cool this shit down."

You fiddle with your fingers as Storm unlatches the metal. Her eyes gloss over to a milky white while she lifts the lid. The temperature drops almost instantly, and you begin to shiver.

"Done," She says, blinking away the glaze. "Charles said that-"

"Great," Logan cuts her off with a slam of the metal lid. He slides it around before moving back towards the elevator. You glance back and forth between Storm and Logan for a second. When you meet her confused expression, she gestures back towards him.

Ignoring the comfort of your sheets and lack of emotional drainage, you jog after Logan.

---

He huffs at you when you reach his side.

"I can push a metal box by myself," he says dismissively.

"Okay," you say, just to get something in the air. "Am I not allowed to come with you?"

You regret even speaking anyways as he scoffs at you, kicking the crate into the opening of the sliding door. It hits the wall with a loud clang. You flinch, but you're more concerned about him to not slip into the door at the last second.

You hug yourself as you start to shiver. Logan rolls his eyes, crosses his arms, and turns away from you to lean against the wall. For the third time tonight.

You are racking your brain. Screaming at yourself to say something, literally any words at all. It feels like you've been panic-searching your thoughts for anything to say for a while.

"Are we not moving?" You ask. You wait for an answer before repeating, calling him by name and moving to stand in front of him.

He huffs before standing straight. After a beat, he says "We're not."

"Shit, how should we -" You start, but are cut of by the metallic unsheathing of Logan's Claws. In a blur he rears back and slices through the door, scraping three parallel lines across the metal.

"Jesus Christ, Logan!" You snap out at him. The glare he gives you while his claws sink into his skin makes you back up into the wall.

"What the hell is your problem?" you say evenly.

He scoffs at you, muttering out "Don't know what you're talking about."

"You just sliced the wall open," You point out, gesturing to said wall. "And you're acting like you're pissed at me"

"You're imagining things," he says back, resuming his position against the wall with his arms folded.

"Oh, that's bullshit. You're literally sulking in the corner and you want to tell me that isn't happening."

Logan stays silent. You almost expect him to turn into the wall so he can pretend to not see you.

"Logan," you say, trying to catch his eyes. "Why can't you be upfront with me? It's very easy to say 'Hey, you pissed me off because of this' or 'Oh, something sparked a bad memory' or, I don't know, 'I don't want to talk about it' "

"I don't want to talk about it," he responds. You smack the back of your head into the wall behind you in exasperation.

"Oh my god, obviously that was just an example. Please just tell me what's wrong."

Logan raises his eyes to meet yours for just a second. You catch his gaze, and you can tell that he wants to tell you. When you quietly say his name he looks away.

"Logan, you’re being mean." Your eyes flick over him, trying to catch any more indication that he'll open up. He stays stoick, stubborn piece of shit. You decide to wait just a moment longer before giving up. If he's going to be this adamant about whatever happened, you aren't about to keep fighting him on it.

"Okay, you’re pissing me off and I give up" You spit, sinking to the floor. You draw your legs up and fold into yourself, the chill of the room sinking into your skin.

It takes a long, awkward amount of time sitting in silence before you her Logan speak.

"You're cold," he states.

"No, I'm not," you say into your arms. Shivering.

"You look cold," he once again states plainly.

"I'm not, stop talking to me."

"I thought you wanted me to talk," Logan retorts at you. You look up at him over your arms, seeing a smug look on his face.

"Yeah, if the words you say are 'Hey, I'm sorry I'm being a dickhead and shoving stuff around and slicing into walls and ignoring you. I'm just thinking about X,Y and Z, which is making me feel X,Y and Z,' and then I would say 'Oh my gosh Logan, I had no idea! I'm so sorry, I wish you told me so I didn't make a big deal out of it because I thought you hated me!" You snap at him, mocking his voice for emphasis.

He blinks at you, and you move your head back into your arms.

"I don't hate you," he says quietly.

"You're acting like it."

"I don't."

The softness in his voice makes you sigh. You decide to take it easy on him, and ask him to come to you.

"What?" he asks, hesitation evident in his tone.

"Can you come sit next to me, please?" You ask softly.

"Why?" he asks, and you roll your eyes.

"Because I'm cold and you run much warmer than I do."

He moves and sinks down beside you, thankfully. You scooch closer until your arm is against his. The warmth of his body radiates against yours.

"Can you please talk to me?" you break the silence. The smallness in your voice chips away at his resolve, but his pride is still in the way. He's embarrassed enough about being upset in the first place, he can hardly stand (much less find the words) to say anything to you.

"Look, I'll literally cover my eyes so I'm not even looking at you," you offer, covering your eyes with your palms. "Please, just tell me."

"It's stupid," Logan says, pride dwindling down.

"I don't care, I promise. Please, Logan," You plead.

He sighs loudly, searching for the right words. He stutters out a few syllables before managing a sentence.

"In the kitchen earlier, you flinched away from me. I don't know. Didn't feel great."

Your hands dropped from your face. He was staring down at the floor. He looked embarrassed, maybe downright ashamed. You gently placed a hand on his arm.

"Logan, I'm sorry. It was just so hot and I felt all gross and sweaty. I didn't mean anything by it, I swear."

"Okay," he says, but his eyes never left the floor.

"And that's not stupid. I freak out over the tiniest things in the world."

"Yeah?" he huffs out a small laugh, finally turning to you.

"Yes, duh, I'm a girl. One time you didn't sit in the stool right next to me and I had to suck my tears back in and I thought about it for two days straight," you told him.

"Because I didn't sit next to you?" he teases, and you push off of his arm in mock annoyance.

"Yes, I'm not kidding. I remember once when you came back from a mission you ignored me when I said 'hi' to you on the stairs and locked yourself in your room for almost two days. I was genuinely convinced you wanted me dead and I couldn't function until you'd brought me toast because you thought I was sick."

"You weren't sick?" He raises an eyebrow at you.

"No! I thought you wanted me to jump into oncoming traffic!" You laugh at yourself, feeling ridiculous after replaying those few days back in your head.

"Okay, okay, I get what you mean. I don't want you dead, by the way. Never will." His face has relaxed and the tension in the air completely dissipated. You tilted to rest your head on his shoulder, relishing in his body heat and enjoying the comfortable silence.

"Seems like I get you pretty worked up, huh?" Logan smiles to himself, knowing he'll get a rise out of you.

"I'm not answering that," you snort, giving him a side eye.

"Are you kidding me?" He says in a deadpan.

"No! I'm not answering that," you sputter, forcing an even tone out of yourself. "Why'd you get so upset about me moving away from you?" You shoot back.

"I'm not answering that," he says, and you now shove him away jokingly.

"Oh, come on!"

You both start to giggle at each other, needing to look at anywhere except at the other. Weight has been lifted off both of your chests, being stuck in the elevator long forgotten.

"So," Logan speaks, letting the word hang in the air for a second. He wonders if the feelings he's completely sure are mutual should remain unspoken. "Are either of us gonna do anything about," he gestures to the both of you. "Or..."

"Oh man, I was wondering which one of us was going to take the bait first," you giggle out to mask the nervousness settling in your chest. "You almost had me, I never figured you'd say anything."

"Did I?" He asks. You turn to him and meet his gaze, smirking at him. You hum happily after a few seconds, turning away from him to lean on his arm once more.

"So," Logan says again, so you mock him and echo the word back.

"So," he tries again, obviously wanting a certain response from you. You bite, looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Oh my god, you can just kiss me. I'm cold, I'm not moving my arms," you say to him, earning a short laugh from him.

Logan moves and scoops you into him, sandwiching your arms between both your bodies. You slide one of your hands up him so that your fingertips reach his collarbone. His nose is just touching yours, and he tilts, barely touching your lips.

"So," he whispers against you. You snort and shove his face away with your free hand.

"Okay, nevermind! Get away from me!" You giggle, Logan following suit.

You feel Logan's hand move to the back of your neck, and you blink at him a few times with a small smile. Finally, he leans down to kiss you. You snake your free hand up to the side of his neck and grasp onto a few tufts of his soft hair. He leans into your touch slightly, so your curl your fingers in response.

One of his arms releases you to brace the floor for support, the other moving to hold you tighter. His fingers splayed across your shoulder blade as you slip your other arm out. You slide your hand up the side of his abdomen, almost moaning when the feeling of his back muscles reach your fingers.

You both pull away for a second to breathe before diving back into each other. Logan pulls you towards him, hand that was on the floor now sliding down your side to squeeze at the flesh of your hips.

He pulls back from you and presses and open mouthed kiss just under your ear. You crane your head back in response while feeling your way up the front of his body. Your fingers dip over the curves of his abs and over his chest, and then slide over his shoulder and down his arms. You think about the glisten of his body earlier in the night, the shadows of his muscular biceps and forearms.

"You and these damn shorts," he groans between the kisses he's now leaving on your collar. You let out a breathy laugh.

"I'll take them off later, they don't even fit," you say, pulling his face up so you can kiss him again.

"I hope you'll let me help," he says into your open mouth, causing you to squeeze your thighs together as you heat up.

The shrieking sound of metal against metal surrounds you both, and you shove Logan off you to scramble to your feet. He moves besides you, claws unsheathed on instinct.

The door of the elevator slowly slides open, coming to a halt while it's halfway open. Charles and Jean were waiting from the outside.

"There you both are," Jean huffs out. "You've been gone for about an hour."

"What time is it?" Logan asks, moving out into the mansion floor and sinking his claws back into his knuckles. You follow behind, the chill coming back to your skin.

"About 4:30 in the morning," Charles replies, gliding away from the opening of the metal door. "I suggest you all get some sleep while it's still early." He looks pointedly at you and Logan before rolling to face Jean.

"Agreed. Goodnight you two," Jean says, moving down the hallway to her room.

You and Logan make your way up the stairs, still buzzing. You stop at his door while he opens it. He turns to face you. Once again, you're back to staring at each other hoping you both can understand what the other is thinking.

"Well, good night Logan," You sigh. He cocks an eyebrow at you.

"You're not coming in?" He says while leaning against the door frame.

"Oh," you begin, a smile nervously making its way to your face. "Well ... I ..."

"I gotta help you with those shorts, remember?"

You can't help the soft laugh that leaves your mouth. You move towards him and step just into the doorway.

"I'll take all the help I can get," You say up at him. He takes the opportunity to wrap you in his arm and move you both through the door.

He turns you both, pressing your back against the wall next to the doorway, shutting the door as he molds his lips into yours. His hand slides under your flimsy yellow tank top as you hear the click of the door lock.

More than likely, neither of you were getting much sleep tonight.

[i-cast-teatus-deletus]

Clothing - Those #%*&^% Pajamas

I feel like progressing to Pajamas in this blog requires that I start out by addressing, on the whole, Eberjey Pajamas.

That is because if you have run even a single internet search for button-up pajamas for after a mastectomy, these pajamas (or one of their many clones) will appear, guaranteed.

The original pajamas are Straight Size Only (up to XL), so I can't comment on the quality or durability specifically, but I can synthesize data to decide they are almost certainly not worth paying Brand Name Prices for.

Since it's summer, I'm going to do all of these as shirt/short sets, but all of these come in shirts/pants, too.

Eberjey has several styles of pajamas in several different fabrics, but the ones in question are their Giselle pajamas, which look like this

These pajamas are 95% modal, 5% spandex and they START at $128 for a shirt/shorts set like the one shown.

Modal is, of course, a cotton alternative that is pretty much rayon with a different thickness/drape and a lot more ad copy about how environmentally friendly it is (the truthfulness of which is a bit beyond the scope here but there's a lot of resources available). Tencel, one of the brand name modal fabrics, has (allegedly) an even better weight, drape, and environmental impact than regular no-name modal. Eberjey's pajamas are made from Tencel, not unbranded modal yarn.

I realize everyone is different, but I bought a pair of modal pajamas and I'm not really a fan. It feels really slick compared to cotton (almost greasy), has kind of a strange weight/drape in between a decent cotton and polyester, and it seems to almost naturally be cold compared to ambient air, which might be an advantage to some people in some situations but it's not really ideal for me.

Unlike a lot of lower-priced dupes, the other pajamas available that are dupes of Eberjey are all made of the same fabric, give or take (I suspect they are regular modal, not Tencel. I'm unsure if a layperson wearing pajamas would even be able to notice a difference).

Target's dupe is a perennial favorite for recovery from mastectomies of all types, and it's easy to see why. It comes up to a 4x (which looks like maybe a true 4x, according to the sizing chart) and has a variety of patterns if you're not looking for a vaguely gender neutral solid-with-piping Eberjey clone, and the shirt/shorts set is less than $25.

Land's End also sells a dupe (allegedly a true Tencel dupe, not just a regular modal one) up to a 3X. They don't have quite as many sizes or patterns as Target, but if you watch for sales you can get them for a bit cheaper than Target's version. These are the ones I bought, and I paid about $17 for a shirt/shorts set. I'm not a huge fan of modal in general, but they are wrinkle-free, comfortable, and fit me well in the 3x. They'll definitely get worn even if I have to pick and choose situations where I'd like to be a little colder.

If you absolutely, positively need the largest size range in this product, Amazon has a similar-but-not identical cotton/modal/elastane that goes up to 7X (though you may only have 1 or 2 color options above a 2X) for a similar price as the Target or Land's End.

I was shocked to discover, in the course of my research, that none of the shops I normally associate with vaguely trendy plus-sized women's clothing have dupes of these pajamas! I'm not ACTUALLY shocked (I feel like they're run by people who pick and choose which trends to follow based on what they think will make money, not actual popularity and market deficiencies, but again, not the scope of this write-up!) but I feel like it's a huge missed opportunity to sell something that's super popular in straight sizes so you can "match" your siblings or friends or or whatever or just have something that's on-trend and feels semi-expensive.

There's other options in the mid-range bracket—I know Gap sells near-dupes of these pajamas as well up to 2X (though they are sold as separates if that is a plus for you)—but they're more like 50% of Eberjey's prices instead of 20%, and most of the blatant Eberjey clones are nearly identical in price to the original. A lot of the dupes don't have any increased size ranger over Eberjey either (so no larger than an XL), which is an interesting choice but I'm no longer shocked by that sort of clownery anymore.

Will these last as long as the Eberjey pajamas? It's doubtful, but if you can buy 4 or 5 sets for the same price, I'm not sure it's a real concern.

[ellieabbyy]

“I don’t eat… I don’t sleep… I’m not like you, Dina…”

[noonecareslol]

࣪˖ ִ ೀ 𝐀 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

Hwang In-ho x Fem! Reader

Summary: When the games aren’t in session, and In-ho is lonely, he finds himself in the first row at the ballet. Watching you. Suddenly he's falling in love.

TW: Channeling my love for older men. Injury. Reader lowkey gets sad for a sec. Age gap (reader is 25 In-ho is 49). Just FLUFF! In-ho learning how to love someone again. Quite literally head over heels for you. Allusions to masturbation. Size kink if you squint.

WC! 5k Part 2! -> here!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It is quite obvious that In-ho is an old soul.

He enjoys old films, old clothing, old theatre, and old music. The little jazz set that plays, “Fly Me To The Moon” is a cherished possession of his, along with his vintage whiskey decanter.

He wears a musky cologne he’d been gifted by his late wife, and his closet is lined with leather dress shoes and perfectly pressed slacks. His dimly lit room on the island is vastly similar to the one in his Seoul apartment, everything perfectly neat and clean.

Yes, In-ho is an old soul.

And in between the games, when he would return to Seoul, he’d find himself bored. Especially during the night. He’d miss his wife, the whispered hope of a promised future.

Often he would distract himself by putting his whiskey decanter to good use, pouring the aged whiskey into his glass over and over again. He would linger by his shelf full of movies he’d seen hundreds of times, tracing his fingers along the cases until he landed on a title. A small smile would play on his lips before popping it into the DVD player and taking a seat next to his beloved cat.

He would find himself mumbling the lines as the actors spoke them on screen, his hand absentmindedly petting his cat. When the movie is over, and the quiet resumes, he’d move to his bedroom.

He’d ensure his cat followed before changing into his expensive pajamas and climbing into the king-sized bed. His cat would join him and he would drift to sleep, dreaming of, well, nothing.

He would close his eyes and wake up without any dream having occupied his mind.

This routine became comfortable. Each night he would get home from whatever he’d been doing before, drink, watch a movie, play with his cat, and sleep without any dreams.

But this night, this night was different.

It was a cold night. And all In-ho wanted to do was drown in glasses of whiskey and watch “Dial ‘M’ For Murder” with his cat.

But as he walked past a line of people waiting to enter a theatre, a poster caught his attention. He blinked once, twice, before walking toward the lit-up frame.

A strikingly beautiful ballerina caught his attention first. She held her arms elegantly above her head, her leg pointed behind her, her other leg resting on pointe as she looked to the side. She was breathtaking.

The Seoul Ballet Company Presents: Swan Lake

Opening Night November 1st

Suddenly the thought of whiskey and Alfred Hitchcock left his mind as he joined the line. I mean, who would miss out on opening night?

Especially when the lead was so pretty.

“We have one ticket left in the front row.” The woman behind the ticket booth clicked her pen unenthusiastically as she watched In-ho pull his leather vintage wallet out of his coat pocket.

A grin rested plainly on his lips as he fiddled with his cash, “That’s perfect. How much?”

The woman slowly turned and punched a few numbers into her register before turning back to him, “80,000 won.” She clicked her pen again.

“Do you have change for 100,000?” He held the two 50,000 won in front of him, watching as she stared at him blankly.

She blinked once before snatching the bills from his hands, “Nope!” In-ho sighed. For someone so slow she took those bills awfully fast.

In-ho drew his lips into a thin line before taking the ticket and placing it in his wallet, “Thanks.”

“Yeah enjoy the show or, like, whatever.” The woman took out her phone and began to text as he walked away, obviously not giving a shit about her job.

But as In-ho walked through the double doors, his breath caught in his throat. The theatre certainly did not disappoint his love for old architecture.

The large barrel vaulted ceilings were beautifully ornamented and adorned with intricately painted designs. Gorgeous crown molding edged the ceiling and stretched to the floor. And a large crystal chandelier rested as the centerpiece, warmly lit and inviting.

In-ho took his seat, a smile evident on his lips as he sighed contently. However, he hoped his cat wasn’t too worried about his whereabouts. Maybe she could come along next time? She is a very sophisticated cat, after all.

As the chandelier and house lights began to dim, the crowd became quiet with anticipation and excitement. And it would be dishonest to say that In-ho wasn’t a little excited as well.

He looked to his left at the woman sitting next to him. She was a small elderly lady with a pair of glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Her eyes were filled with excitement as she scanned through the pamphlet, a wide smile plastered on her face.

She wore a vintage necklace around her neck, layered with pearls. In-ho smiled, it was nice to see someone who also had a knack for old taste.

The soft notes of Swan Lake began to play, and In-ho watched as the curtains opened, revealing the beautifully decorated stage. Large trees with hanging vines arched over the set, greenery and flowers blending into the painted backdrop.

A foggy mist flooded the stage as dancers began to move elegantly across. But the lead had yet to make an appearance.

In-ho watched rather impatiently, and failed to notice the woman next to him lean in, “Right now, the prince is going hunting with his crossbow. But he will find that the white swan has turned into a beautiful woman, and has fallen under a curse.” The old woman pointed slightly to the prince, her voice whispering just loud enough for him to hear.

His eyes trained on the prince as he danced with his crossbow, “Thank you. I must look confused.”

The old lady gave a small laugh, “I used to dance for this company, i’ll never miss an opportunity to explain the ballet.”

In-ho watches as she subtly mimics the prince's moves, her hands moving elegantly in front of her. Her eyes were closed, the sound of the music bringing emotion to her face.

Her eyes flick open as the music changes softly, “Look.” Her eyes lighting up as she nods slightly to the stage.

In-ho watches as you finally take the stage, fluttering your feet as you move elegantly toward the prince. Your hands held high above your head, moving gracefully as you bourrée.

He watched as your back muscles contracted, moving as if you had wings. His eyes trained down to your legs and to your pointe shoes, watching as you danced with ease.

Your white feathered skirt moved along with you, the bodice elegantly framing you perfectly. The feathered piece in your hair catches In-ho’s attention, causing him to study your face.

That poster was nothing compared to your beauty.

You held a soft look, but In-ho didn’t fail to notice the focus that caused your eyebrows to furrow slightly. Your movements were soft and graceful, your demeanor innocent and melancholic.

You were perfect as the white swan.

You were perfect.

He wondered if you were just as innocent as you portray yourself to be, “God, she’s beautiful.”

The elderly woman hummed in agreement as she watched In-ho’s gaze remain sharp on the white swan, an all-knowing smile spread across her lips.

As the ballet continued it seemed that the rest of the audience had disappeared. In-ho felt as if you were only dancing for him. No one else.

He swore you looked at him a few times, him being the focus point of your graceful turns.

And when you transitioned into the black swan, all thoughts in In-ho’s head became dark.

Oh, how he liked this side of you.

Your movements were sharp, determined, and seductive. And he found himself adjusting in his seat as his slacks became increasingly tight. You were so close to him. Just a few feet from his touch as you danced on stage. He could take you right now. He could fuck you, make you feel things you’ve never felt before.

And as you leaped on the stage, the white swan jumping to her death, In-ho felt a tear slip from his eye. You were magnificent.

The audience filed out of the theatre, fanning themselves with their pamphlets and discussing the ballet. You had received a standing ovation, and In-ho took pride in being the first one to stand and clap.

He had finally caught your attention. And when you locked eyes with him as you bowed, you felt your brain turn to mush.

He was handsome. Like, extremely handsome.

His face was perfectly chiseled. His eyes crinkled as he flashed a perfect smile, his hair slightly falling in front of his face and covering his dark eyes.

You didn’t blink once as you remained under his gaze, and it wasn’t until another dancer pulled you up that you realized you were bowing for far too long.

You avoided his eye contact as you walked off, embarrassed he had made you turn into putty just by his stare.

And as In-ho exited the theatre, he took his time lingering by the lamp post. He’d secretly hoped to see you leave.

He doesn’t know what he would say if he did see you. Maybe he would compliment you, or ask you a meaningless question. Or maybe, just maybe, he’d push you against the lamppost, and let his desire consume you.

He’d just wait a little bit longer.

10 minutes.

15 minutes.

30 minutes.

The woman from behind the ticket booth locked the door as she brought down the metal gate, “Excuse me, did the woman who danced as the white swan leave yet?”

She turned around smacking her gum, “Yeah. Why?” She sized him up, placing a hand on her hip as she cocked an eyebrow.

In-ho felt his face flush, “I was just going to compliment her.” He put his cold hands in the pockets of his coat, shifting his weight onto his other foot.

“Yeah well,” The woman smacks her gum as she walks up towards In-ho, handing him a flier, “They have open practice every Friday. Tickets are only 10,000 won.”

He took the flier from her hand, folding it and sliding it into his pocket, “Thanks.” She nodded her head and walked past him, slipping into her jacket.

In-ho turned and started his walk to his apartment only a block away. When he arrived, he heard the familiar sound of meowing by his front door.

And as he opened the door, he came face to face with his cat waiting on the couch, “I’m sorry Elisabeth, but I’m too tired for a movie tonight.”

She gave an annoyed meow before reluctantly following him into his room, hopping onto the pillow beside his. In-ho got dressed in his pajamas, ready for another dreamless night as he slipped into the sheets next to Elisabeth.

But this time, it wasn't dreamless.

In fact, he had dreamed a very vivid dream.

He had dreamt of you.

And as In-ho woke up the next morning, his hand immediately went to his nightstand, picking up the flier.

It seems that the pretty ballerina has stolen his heart.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"Plié! Ron de jambe, retiré! Good!" You held your arms in front of you, your right leg coming up at a bend, "Pas de chat, écarté! Don't rush it, Fiona!"

Your ballet teacher weaved between you and the other students, her tight bun sitting perfectly on her pointed head, "Développé, demi-pointe! No! Not pointe, demi pointe!"

Her thick French accent bellowed throughout the theatre, "Good y/n! Très bien!" A wide smile painted your lips as you continued your dance, your friend Fiona rolling her eyes at your praise. You giggled as you went into second, your arms outstretched to the side.

"Well done! Take a water break and stretch, we'll take five." You brought your hands to your knees, leaning over slightly as you caught your breath.

Fiona dramatically flopped on her back, a hand coming to her forehead as she breathed heavily, "I've died, she's killed me." You tossed her water bottle into her hand with a laugh as you sat next to her, your eyes scanning the theatre.

Familiar faces met your eyes. Elderly couples, former dancers, and little kids with their moms. Oh! And the man who you haven't stopped thinking about.

Wait.

You hit Fiona's shoulder hard, not taking your eyes off him, "Fiona. Fiona, look." She sat up, holding her shoulder as her eyes trailed to where you were subtly pointing.

"Oh, it's the hot dilf." Fiona took a drink from her bottle, watching as In-ho looked around while taking in the architecture.

You slapped her shoulder again, "Shut up! What if he hears you?" You get up from the ground, pulling Fiona up with you and tossing your water bottle back into your bag.

She followed suit, taking one last drink before tossing it in her own, "First off, stop hitting me. It's abuse." You rolled your eyes as you both took your spot by the barre, "Second, he's in the back corner of the theatre, he's not hearing shit. Except for our teacher's constant yelling."

You didn't respond, instead, you continued looking at him. His black turtle neck sweater hugged his biceps perfectly, and you didn't fail to notice his empty finger where a ring would sit.

"Okay! Lets continue! Tendu, plié! Ron de jambe, plié!"

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It had been two months since In-ho first started spending his Fridays pining over you.

Each Friday, he would come home, change into an outfit he had dry-cleaned and pressed, feed Elisabeth, and head to the Theatre. He would take his spot in the far left corner, and watch as you danced and laughed with your friends.

He found himself looking forward to Fridays. Which is strange, because he's never looked forward to anything before. Well, besides the games. But he had been so focused on you, that he had fallen behind on his work. Something he'd never done before.

You plagued his mind.

He dreams of you. When he's asleep and awake. He'd find himself walking by the Theatre on other days when you were practicing, hoping to see a glimpse of you.

He found himself listening to Etta James and Nat King Cole more often than not. 'A Sunday Kind Of Love' and 'Unforgettable' filing his apartment as he cooked his dinners. 'My Fair Lady' and 'Gone With The Wind' replacing his classic mystery movies.

He even found himself stopping by flower boutiques, smelling the tulips and Orchids. He wonders what your favorite flower is. Perhaps it is Lilies, the flower that represents innocence and purity.

He wondered a lot if you were a virgin. Often imagining the feeling of your body under his large one late at night when he can't sleep, and when his hand finds itself under his pants.

You had him wrapped around your pretty little finger and you didn't even know it.

Vice Versa, you found yourself looking forward to Fridays as well.

It was the only day you could see the stranger who you had been thinking about constantly.

You liked his style, the way he carried himself with a confidence that intimidated you. His large frame towered over everyone, and he stood out from the crowd. He was perfect. It was as if god himself sculpted him with his own hands.

And oh my god.

You were down bad.

Fiona constantly teased you about it. Making fun of how you stopped wearing your loose cover-up, "Im just hot, that's all Fiona. It's warm in here." You lied. And Fiona was obviously aware of that.

You started offering to stay late with your teacher and help clean up, hoping to catch the stranger before he left. But your teacher always insisted you should go home and rest, and who were you to disobey her.

You've always been perfect. At school, at dance, at everything. When auditions came for Swan Lake, there was no question in anyone's mind about who would get the lead.

But since opening night, things have been slightly different. You often got distracted during practice, your eyes always finding the man in the back corner. You started falling out of your turns, forgetting to bring your pointe shoes, and, worse of all, you had been forgetting to point your toes.

And here you were. Walking to the center of the stage, ready to run through your variation in front of everyone. It was an easy variation, but the end was complicated. You had to do several pirouettes, which you have always been good at. But today you decided to test yourself.

You knew your teacher was becoming increasingly disappointed in you, it plagued your every thought. So, as you spun perfectly, you decided to see how many pirouettes you could perform.

17, 18, 19, 20.

Your leg is wobbling, but you choose to ignore it.

21, 22, 23-

You hear Fiona call your name as your foot slips out of pointe, twisting as you fall on top of it, "Oh my god!" The sickening sound of your ankle cracking causes your heart to drop. The stinging feeling of tears replaced by the overwhelming pain that was now shooting up your leg.

Everyone huddles around you as the teacher runs to call an ambulance, but Fiona kneels at your side, "I know this isn't the right time but, the dilf is running over here right now."

You close your eyes, trying to control your rapid breathing. You wished the stage would open around you and swallow you whole, just put you out of your misery.

In-ho jumps with ease onto the stage, his sweater sleeves rolled up to his elbow, "Move." He pushes past the dancers huddling over you and grabs your face.

Your eyes flick open at the feeling of warm hands pressed against your cheeks. Oh my god, he was holding your face. Your heart fluttered but you didn't notice, you were too worried about the fact that your ankle was bent the wrong way.

In-ho's hand softly brushes over your ankle, causing you to wince. At first, he's skeptical about touching you. Was it too fast? Too sudden? Too bold?

But he didn't have time to think it over as he put his strong arms under you, lifting you gently as he stood. Fiona watched with a smirk on her face as she saw shock fill your eyes, his biceps flexing as he pulled you close to his chest.

Without a word, In-ho steps down from the stage and carries you through the exit, "I have an ambulance coming!" Your teacher ran after him yelling, her typically neat bun somewhat loose and frizzy now.

In-ho motions to his pocket and Fiona responds, grabbing his car key and unlocking his Mercedez-benz, "It will take too long. I'll drive her."

For a split second, you catch his eye, and you could've sworn to god your pain disappeared for a moment. And if it were a different circumstance, In-ho would kiss you. He would kiss you right here with you in his arms.

But the shared look was short-lived as he very carefully sets you in the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt gently. Your ballet teacher leans down to the window, "Don't worry! Fiona can dance for you!"

Your heart shattered.

And tears began to flood. You ignored In-ho's words of reassurance as he took off, speeding to the hospital. The drive was quiet except for your soft cries. And In-ho wanted nothing more than to cradle you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

"Im sorry im getting your car dirty." You looked at the tear-stained headrest you laid against, wiping your sore eyes with the back of your hand.

In-ho cuts a car off as he turns, ignoring the beeps from the angry driver, "It's okay. I have another one." The subtle money brag wasn't missed by you. In-ho just wanted to impress you.

"What are you? Like a CEO or something?" You turned to face him, giving a pitiful sniffle as he gave another sharp turn.

He chuckled, and you felt your heart beat faster. Was it because of the adrenaline? Or was it because the man whom you've become obsessed with is quite literally acting like your night in shining armor, "Im... Im a game show host."

You nodded, an impressive smile growing on your face, "That's cool. Im y/n by the way."

He flashes a smile, the same smile from the night you first saw him, and a blush creeps up on your tear-stained cheeks, "You're sitting there, with a fucked up ankle, and you're making small talk?"

You suddenly feel embarrassed. He's just some random guy who happened to be in the right place at the right time, nothing more. "Sorry. Just trying to distract myself."

In-ho frowns. Did he say the wrong thing? His grip tightens on the steering wheel, "No! Don't be sorry. If I'm being honest, I've been dying to know your name."

His eyes flick to you before looking back in front of him, "Im Hwang In-ho." A small smile creeps onto his lips as he pulls to a stop in front of the ER.

"Well, Mr. Hwang, it's nice to meet you."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"Well, it looks like you have a fracture." You give a long exasperated sigh as the Doctor holds up the X-rays, "The fibula is fractured below the level of the syndesmosis, which is the joint between the tibia and fibula."

You look at In-ho, who, for some reason, seems more stressed than you do, "What's the healing process like? Will she need surgery?" Your head snapped to the doctor at the mention of surgery. Surgery for dancers is like a death sentence.

No. More. Dancing.

"Fractures like these are considered stable, meaning that they are unlikely to worsen with correct treatment and management. You'll just need to wear a boot for a while." The doctor noticed how your concerned look didn't falter, and gave a sigh before placing a hand on your shoulder, "You can still dance."

The breath you were holding escapes your lips as you feel a heavy weight fall off your shoulders, "Thank you so much." The doctor rubs your shoulder before leaving, instructing the nurse to fit you for a boot.

In-ho watches as you close your eyes, a smile resting on your face. He cocked his head, how could you be so beautiful in a moment like this? His eyes take a minute to trail down your body, taking you in, something he's grown fond of doing.

Your hair is a mess, your cheeks are red and tear-stained, your ankle looks like a snapped twig, and you're picking at your cuticles. But god.

You are perfect.

Just as beautiful now as you were months ago.

An unfamiliar feeling has taken over his chest ever since he saw you. A tightening, warm feeling that he hasn't felt in years. At first, he ignored it. Maybe it was just heartburn? But as it progressed, he got worried. The next thing you know a doctor is laughing in his face.

Calling it 'love'.

In-ho immediately left after he heard that, making sure to write a very passive-aggressive review on Yelp. What doctor diagnosed a patient with 'being in love'?

In-ho was not in love.

...

...

Right?

It wasn't until he watched 'Funny Face' that he realized the estranged doctor was correct. The moment Fred Astaire saw Aubrey Hepburn and was immediately captivated by her beauty, he knew it was true.

He didn't care that he was more than twenty years older than you, or that he had bigger things to worry about, all he cared about was you.

And that made him so confused.

You had managed to captivate his heart, soul, and body. And he felt like a teenager with his first crush all over again. So as he saw you look up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, he couldn't help what happened next.

He stood from his chair, taking large steps towards your frame. You furrowed your eyebrows as you watched him stand between your legs, careful not to hit your ankle.

His big hands reach down and grab your face, slamming your lips into his own. Your eyes grow wide, confusion flashing across your face before slowly giving in, pulling his head down lower.

His touch was gentle, the opposite of his kiss. His hands softly caressed your red cheeks, while his lips hungrily chased after your own.

You tugged at the baby hairs that rested on the back of his neck, desire and hunger feeding off you as he slipped his tongue into your pretty mouth. A low growl escaped his swollen lips, and you felt arousal begin to pool between your thighs.

You whine as he removes his hand from your face and steps back, crossing his arms. His gaze has always been intimidating. But now that he's seen you fall on your ass, cry, and melt under his touch all in one day, it is much more intimidating.

You've been vulnerable in front of him. Something you could never do before. But you didn't care if he saw your flaws, you were perfect to him.

He saw a future when he looked at you. He saw a family, something he had longed for many years ago. He saw hope, love, and promise.

He saw you.

Beautiful, perfect, irresistible you.

And as he looked at you, only one question entered his mind.

"Do you want to meet my cat?"

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

a/n: chat. its 2 am. but i am DETERMINED to post this. i just love you guys sm mwah mwah. also, wasn't in a smut mood. still getting used to writing smut LMAO.

also random disclaimer: i have never done ballet. so if any terms are wrong or if my spelling is trash PLS LMK!

@bohemiandelilah @menabuser16 @verouys @speedymagazinewhispers @metalbaby2 @nellabear @marymun @orihime188 @nanascupid @fnl9zer @chasinghxran @crystalizia @auspicious-lilana @machipyun @cdej6 @namelesslosers

[starryjake]

teddy bear pajamas pt. 2 | l.h

read part 1 here!

pairing: heeseung x fem!reader

warnings: unprotected sex, nipple play, dirty talk. (lmk if i missed anything).

it was like he was able to read your mind. that, or he was just as turned on as you were and needed more. either way, you wanted to give everything to him. whatever he wanted to do with you, you’d allow. that was how badly you needed him.

you climbed into heeseung’s lap, his bare cock rubbing against the fabric of your pajama pants. he shuddered at the sensation, still sensitive from his previous orgasm only minutes ago.

he grabbed your bare waist, sliding his large hands up and down your overheated skin. you tossed your head back in pleasure and suddenly felt the sensation of his lips wrapping around one of your nipples while his finger rubbed the other one.

you moaned loudly, too far gone to care about the potential of waking up your brother and his friends in the other room. to be touched by heeseung felt too good, you couldn’t hold back no matter how hard you tried.

you began grinding your still clothed pussy against his cock, needing friction and needing it immediately. heeseung basically growled, tugging at the waistband of your pants, hinting at you to take them off.

momentarily, you crawled off of his lap to slide the teddy bear printed pants off your legs.

heeseung chuckled, saying, “you’re so fucking cute in those pants. i just need them off, baby.”

blushing, you dropped the pants to the floor and crawled back into his lap, both of you entirely bare now. he leaned in and licked a stripe up your neck, moaning at the taste of your skin.

“need you,” you whispered, so softly that he wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly.

“what’s that, baby?” he asked in a sweet tone. “you need me? need my cock in your pretty little hole?”

you convulsed in embarrassment and desire. your stomach tightened with arousal and you squeezed his hand, pouting slightly.

“mhm,” you hummed, looking down at where his cock was pressed against your pussy, but not inside.

“you shy little thing,” he whispered, caressing your cheek. “go ahead and put in, sweet girl. nothing’s stopping you.”

you looked at his face with wide eyes. he was so relaxed and calm, while you were freaking out internally because you’ve wanted him so badly for so long, and now you were getting it.

“me?” you choked out.

“aw,” he cooed, grinning at your shock and embarrassment. “do you need some help? here, sit up for me real quick.”

you complied, sitting yourself up on your knees so you were just hovering over him. he grasped his cock and lined it up with your quivering hole.

“ready?” he asked gently, his eyes filled with stars as he looked at you.

“please,” you begged.

you felt the swollen tip of his cock pry at your entrance before breaking the barrier and slipping inside. it wasn’t difficult with how wet you were, with how prepared your body was to have him inside of you.

he gripped your hips and helped you slowly lower back down until your pelvises were pressed together and he was completely buried inside of you.

for a moment, the two of you sat still, your bodies intertwined. he comfortingly rubbed your sides and your arms, looking up at you to make sure you were alright. it felt good even without moving, just to have his cock sitting inside of you.

but then he started kissing and nibbling along your neck and your chest and you just had to move. you slowly raised yourself up, feeling every detail of his long cock as your pussy glided up and down on it.

“fuck,” he moaned, watching you slowly adjust to his length. “so pretty like this.”

you whimpered, grinding back and forth with him inside you. your pace started slow, but then heeseung began raising his hips up, thrusting into you.

the feeling was unlike any other sex you had before. you weren’t incredibly experienced by any means, but it had never felt this good before. the mixture of the sounds heeseung was making, the way his hips fluidly glided up into you, his hands on your body, all of it was making for the most insane sexual experience of your life. you felt euphoric, and he could see it from the way your eyes were rolling back into your head and the fucked out sounds you were making.

“hee,” you cried out, forcing your eyes open to look at him beneath you. “it feels so f-fucking good.”

you planted your hands on his abdomen for leverage, starting to bounce on his cock now instead of the gentler movements you’d been doing previously.

heeseung seemed to like this as he stared at your tits bouncing in his face. he couldn’t help from leaning forward and taking one in his mouth again, moaning around the erect bud.

you held the back of his head to your chest, clenching and unclenching around his dick. he groped your ass in his hands, guiding you up and down his length.

“fuck,” he moaned, switching to your other nipple as not to neglect it. “you’re perfect. my perfect baby.”

you dug your nails into his abdomen, leaning forward. you were staring to get tired and you gradually lowered yourself down until your chests were pressed together. you laid your head on his chest, your movements coming to a halt. he still slowly thrusted into you, too lost in the pleasure to realize you’d even stopped.

but then he felt your breath hitting his neck and he opened his eyes, realizing you’d stopped moving and were just laying on top of him.

“you okay?” he asked, pushing some hair out of your hair.

“yeah,” you answered, looking up at him with a tired smile.

“my baby,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “lay on your back for me.”

you did as you were told, pulling yourself off him and laying on your back. heeseung sat up on his knees and spread your legs, positioning himself between them. he wrapped your legs around his slender waist and guided his cock back inside of you.

you moaned out as you two were reconnected once again, this time in a different position. he pulled out almost all the way before stuffing his cock back inside, already starting out at a quick pace.

moans and the sounds of your skin slapping together filled the steamy room. heeseung fucked you into your mattress, slowly becoming drunker and drunker off your pussy and how delightfully tight it was squeezing him.

“mmm, oh my god,” he babbled. “your pussy is fucking amazing, baby, fuck. just wanna fuck you all the time. would my baby like that? want me to fuck her all the time?”

“please,” you sobbed, clenching harshly around him at the idea of getting to fuck him again. “please fuck me, oh my god. harder, hee, please!”

heeseung growled, gripping your waist for leverage as he thrusted even harder, slowly pushing you up your mattress.

you cried out, turning your head to the side. you were met with the view of your bedroom door where your brother could barge in at any second to find his best friend balls deep inside of you. it was wrong. you knew jay would be furious, but in that moment, you truly didn’t care.

“you’re so fucking wet,” heeseung grunted, pulling you back into reality.

you clenched around him again, suddenly feeling a turn in your stomach which told you that you were getting close.

you were so wet, your thighs were sticky. you were sure there was a puddle beneath you seeping into your mattress from all the arousal that had dripped out of you, that heeseung was fucking out of you.

you looked up at his face. his cheeks were red, his hair was sticking to his forehead from sweat, and his face was entirely concentrated on keeping his rhythm. he looked unbelievably good and you couldn’t believe you had him like this, that he was fucking you so good right now.

“‘m close, hee,” you warned.

“oh fuck, please,” he moaned. “cum around my cock, angel. wanna feel you cumming on me so bad.”

his words pushed you closer and closer. that along with heeseung’s steady thrusts hitting you in the perfect spot every time finally pushed you over the edge.

your body froze and you clenched around him harder than you had all night. you gasped, biting your lower lip as you finally released around him, you orgasm hitting you much harder than your previous one.

your legs shook around his waist and heeseung paused just to watch you. you looked so beautiful when you came, he couldn’t believe it. he also couldn’t believe that by just watching you cum, heeseung also suddenly felt the urge to cum.

“oh fuck,” he moaned. “i’m gonna cum, baby. tell me where you want me to cum.”

“my stomach,” you moaned out.

heeseung shoved his cock in and out of you a few more times before he pulled out and jerked himself to release all over your stomach, drenching you in white, gooey cum.

he hissed as his hand glided over his sensitive tip, pushing out rope after rope of his release. he came even more just seeing you covered in his own cum, seeing his friend’s innocent sister in such a state.

when he was finally finished, he collapsed beside you. all you two could do was lay there and catch your breath, comprehending everything that’d just happened.

what began as an innocent movie night in your bed had turned into something entirely different. you were glad with the outcome, but you were already growing nervous that he was regretting it.

he wasn’t saying anything which fueled your anxiety. you turned your head to the side, looking at him.

before you could speak, he said, “are you okay?”

“yeah,” you assured. “are you?”

your nerves were immediately relieved when he shoots you that signature heartwarming smile. he pulled you into his chest, kissing the top of your head.

“of course i am,” he said. “that was fucking—i don’t think there’s a word good enough to describe it.”

you smiled into his sweaty chest, inhaling his scent. your eyes fluttered shut and listening to the sound of his consistent heart beat, you knew you were on the verge of sleep.

before you let yourself rest, you muttered out, “please don’t go.”

heeseung squeezed your shoulder a bit and said, “i’m not going anywhere, baby.”

you smiled again, dazed, before finally falling asleep on him.

-

read part 3 here!

thanks for reading!

[teaboot]

TOP 10 PERSONAL FAVE MOVIES TO WATCH WHEN YOU FEEL LIKE ASS

I don't like movies that stress me out because life is already stressful but I DO love catharsis comedy found family friendship fantasy and violence so here are my top 10 movies and series to have a good time watching

Numbered for convenience but not in any particular order

John Wick 1 and 2: An ordinary man grieving the loss of his wife gets dragged back into his past as a shadowy, invisible world of international killers for hire is slowly revealed to be living among us. A love note to set design, lighting, and choreography. My favourite part is fixating on the symbolism. DO NOT WATCH 3. 4 is okay. DO NOT WATCH 3. There is a dog death in 1 that will make you cry so skip that part if you have to. DO NOT WATCH 3.

The lord of the Rings, all 3, extended edition best watched if you're on the couch with the flu and expect to fall asleep OR if it's your day off and it's raining outside OR if you have like 5 people lounging around in pajamas

Six Underground: Essentially an hour and a half long car commercial music video with found family and a fresher take on acommon plot. Ryan Reynolds essentially writes and directs a Michael Bay movie where 6 independant criminals gather together to overthrow a violent foreign dictatorship. You show up for a dumb heist and walk out ready to build a guillotine. TW for violence, car crashes, chemical warfare, and genocide. A very cathartic ending. Does unfortunately do the whole "vague, impoverished middle-eastern country" thing but the citizens are actually show as human beings which is a nice change of pace and oh wow that's depressing isn't it

The Princess Diaries 1 and 2: A sort-of-a-loser teenage girl, played by a 2001 Annie Hathaway, learns that her late father was a king of a foreign nation and must become a confident and responsible leader for his people. There is a scene in the rain where you will experience emotions. Best watched with snacks. 2 features an enemies-to-lovers type deal with Chris Pine.

Ella Enchanted: A shrek-style semi-musical fantasy romance in which a young woman is cursed at birth to do everything anyone tells her to do. Features several Queen songs and dance numbers sung by Annie Hathaway and that guy who plays the sad dog guy in Hannibal.

Stardust: A huge loser travels from 1800s England (?) to a magical world in order to fetch a fallen star for the insufferable love of his life before she marries a massive douchebag. The huge loser? Charlie Cox. The star? A living person. Also a whole bunch of princes are ALSO looking for them as a race for the throne while discreetly killing each other off. And also a bunch of witches want to eat her so they can be young and sexy. 11/10. I used to watch this 10 minutes at a time on a YouTube channel that posted it in chunks filmed on a digital camera in their living room

The Last Holiday: Queen Latifah, playing someone played by Queen Latifah, has been working an underappreciated minimum wage job for years, living a safe and conservative life trying to lose weight and save money. Then she finds out she has months to live, and decides to finally quit her job and blow it all on one massive luxury holiday vacation complete with five-star dining, making friends and finding love and confidence along the way. It's definitely corny but it makes me so happy thank you Queen Latifah

Zathura: It's the plot to the original Jumanji but in space instead of the rainforest. But listen to me: There's a twist reveal at the end that you need to pretend isn't there. It is vitally important when you get to that part- and you will know what part when it happens- that you pretend it didn't. Otherwise, a fresh and enjoyable adventure for any age!

Redacted cause I haven't seen it in a long time and it may be worse than I remember, gotta rewatch

Bullet Train. You go in expecting a ham-fisted find-the-mcguffin style action comedy and are blindsided by excellent narrative symmetry and genuinely likeable characters. Fresh takes on old themes and creative action sequences. My little brother said "It's good", and he's a man who once sincerely argued that Lord of the Rings could have been better. It's fun and punchy violence with just enough smart stuff to not let your brain get bored