#honestly this was a sweep and the whole thing was quite funny!

[spielzeugkaiser]

12/12 we had an Uncle Iroh sweep!! He won the poll by far - and for a moment I thought about making it quite sad, but I contained myself, hehe.

[harlowehearse]

Candle Cove Head cannons

I have severe brain rot (also some of these might be from the archive account so apologies if you've seen them before). No rhyme or reason to this it's just a bunch of things that came to mind.

-It's a running gag that no one really knows what exactly Horace is? Whether he's really human or not? Even he doesn't seem to know and makes several conflicting statements about it.

-It's also a gag Horace just has no idea how old Janice is. He assumes she's like 3 or 4 or something and doesn't think she can read or anything.

-All of the puppets are made with 4 fingers aside from the abyssian ones who have all 5.

-Abyssians aren't born, they come from and are made from the sand at the bottom of the sea. They don't live forever, just much longer than a human. If they die of age they turn back into sand.

-Janice and Skin-taker sharing a birthday is partially true. Skin-taker does genuinely consider the date his birthday as well because it was the day Poppy killed him and he became what he is now, birthdays and date of deaths are practically the same thing to him.

-Janice and Skin-taker share quite a few other similarities like being the only left handed characters in the show, curiosity being a key character trait, their favorite color both being purple, and just a lot more sprinkled through out the show.

-Janice can be very blunt, is a terrible liar, and her curiosity can easily get the best of her so she'll just blurt out questions as soon as they come.

-Eye contact makes Janice quite uncomfortable (yet another reason why Skin-taker unnerves her so much cuz the guy just stares daggers into your soul).

-After getting really pissed at Horace Janice once threw a rock at and accidentally killed him. Skin-taker brought him back and he was honestly unphased but Janice is still a little messed up and feels guilt over it.

-Janice can get very frustrated or angry, mostly in cases of other characters being mean towards her or her friends (9/10 it's Horace she's mad at).

-Calvary is deaf in his left ear and the whole crew knows sign language. Nathan helped to teach Janice and in return she helped teach him some math stuff she learned from school.

-If she doesn't want to go somewhere, Ms. Laughingstock will just stop dead in her tracks. While not often she and Poppy do butt heads sometimes.

-Revolvers weren't used as weapons in the show until Milo was introduced in season 2.

-Milo was the one to teach Janice how to wield a cutlass ("begrudgingly," he will tell you). Up until that point she just used a slingshot she had from home and a throwing knife Percy taught her how to use.

-Skin-taker's lair resembles a relatively normal living space set up in the cave, and would actually be quite cozy had it not be all made from human remains.

-Skin-taker doesn't hate Poppy because he killed him, he's actually a bit grateful for that because he enjoys being dead, he hates him because Poppy 1) wasted the skin by just throwing it to sharks and 2) Skin-taker sees him as a hypocrite as he has committed crimes just as heinous as Skin-taker, but now goes around with the title "The Honorable Pirate" while sweeping his past under the rug. Plus the guy just gets on his nerves.

-Despite how aloof and cold he seems to regard him Horace is probably the only one (living) Skin-taker would consider a friend.

-Getting new skin isn't the only reason Skin-taker does things, he'll also just do things because he's curious as to the result or he thinks it'd be funny.

-Skin-taker actually really likes wordplay and funny sounding words. Sometimes he'll just say little rhymes and random words out loud to amuse himself. Of course he's also very cryptic sometimes to be purposefully ominous too.

-Though she never appears in person on the show or is mentioned by name, whenever the Red Mary is eluded to or something makes reference to her the music of the show stops, and if you listen closely, you can hear the crackling of a fire in the mix of the background TV static.

-Even though he can't physically smoke Skin-taker has a collection of wooden pipes.

-Sunny has a little cactus collection on the ship that Hans helped her get. Little reminder of home.

-The rubberfishes crew aren't really fond of Skin-taker (they're just as creeped out by him as The Laughingstock crew) but they're all very loyal to and kind of care about Horace so they stick it out for their captain.

-Lillian had light magic and like Horace was a sorcerer of sorts, Talapio was her familiar.

-The Tarantula crews sails were sewn using string Talapio gave them, and because of that you could see them faintly shimmering at night. Some referred to them as "the crew with stars in their sails" because of this.

-You could point at any color, any hue tone shade what have you, and Skin-taker could immediately tell you it's specific name. It's one of the few things about him that are the same from when he was Thade Soben.

-Lillian was genuinely a very goofy, emotional, and fun loving person but being a captain she tried keeping a very calm confident demeanor all the time which then lead her to also being secretly stressed out 24/7. Seeing Thades joy and curiosity for almost everything in Candle Cove helped bring out her sillier side again though.

-No one other than Poppy knows Percy's past on the Tarantula crew as the infamous Prowler Percy and whenever someone goes "Man that prowler percy was so cool I wonder what happened to him" Percy is just "Yeahh haha crazy- let's change the subject" just because he remembering those times hurts too much now and also the NPHC would pay soooooo much money to see Prowler dead.

-One time Poppy gambled Percy in a bet and lost and the crew then spent the whole episode getting into shenanigans trying to get him back.

-There was one episode where Janice and Horace got separated from their crew on a dangerous island and had to very begrudgingly work together to try and get back to them with Janice managing to snag his monocle and holding it hostage so he didn't try any funny business. Even though he did end up betraying her in the end by leaving her on the island (the Laughingstock crew did get her back still) during the episode they actually worked pretty well together and at one point found some common ground, and ever since Horace just seemed a little less hostile towards her, insulted her less, and even seemed to try and lightly deter Skin-taker from her once or twice.

-Susan Siren is actually a menace and does crash ships and kill sailors with her singing she's just loyal to Janice and The Laughingstock crew because Janice freed her from lullaby rock. Girls killed and will do so again.

-Green Gregory is the only other one is Candle Cove aside from Janice who isn't a puppet (in my version I like to think Susan and Nathan are also puppets). It's suggested but never confirmed whether or not he too was once a child who came to Candle Cove long ago.

-Green Gregory knew Skin-taker when he was Thade back when he was a pirate himself, and every once in a while after the taverns closed Skin-taker shows up to catch up with his old acquaintance. Even though he's clear in his distain for the skeleton's doing Gregory is never unwelcoming to him (listen even if they have no canon interactions you can't give me two characters presumably played by the same actor and expect me to NOT come up with a connection between them).

-Percy's paranoia and Calvary's superstition go hand in hand in literally the most chaotic and worst way. Sea dog is so tired of their shit.

-Milo is the only person to have ever tested Dr. Heartfelt's patience.

-The puppets can bleed. It's not a practical effect.

[astronomical-bagel]

The Rift was whispering.

More than whispering, really. Grian thought he could hear faint cheering emanating from it. Or maybe crying. 

Well, whatever it was, they were annoying, and Grumbot Prime’s messages were starting to get more and more on the “get that to stop or I’ll rip out your spine” side of the spectrum. And honestly, Grian was in favor of keeping his spine. He would even go so far as to say he was quite attached to his spine. So, with little regard to potential radiation poisoning or existential tearing of his soul, Grian stuck his head into the Rift.

The funny thing about the Rift, is that it had layers. It was a rip into the fabric of space, time, and reality, and through it, it had rings, like a tree. Like the strata in a rock, realities layered and fragmented and shifted in every mind-melting way. Eyes glinted off of each impossible facet in the dimensions around him, each one turning towards Grian as he stuck his head past the threshold of the rift. The rough whispers were amplified in here, ping-ponging around Grian’s brain.

Grian just raised his eyebrow, unimpressed by the eldritch horror living in his basement, “Seriously, guys? What’s going on now?”

The eyes turned pleading, their amethyst and tuff irises large and puppylike. Polls. We have polls. Vote in polls? Sexy? Sexyman?

Grian took a second to process what they were asking, before immediately u-turning out of there, “Nope. Nope. No way. Goodbye.”

But! Polls! The eyes cried, wailing over each other, Competition! Win in polls!

“I said goodbye, guys. I’m not debasing myself like that.”

Noo! Minecraft men! The watchers beseeched, each yelling out their chosen champion with renewed fervor, making the space around the Rift warp like it was being pulled in by a black hole. It did absolutely jack squat to Grian, though, only serving to make him roll his eyes at heir tantrum and further resolve to stay the hell away from their whole… situation.

That didn’t stop them from trying to campaign at him, though.

Vote Joe! Do you think a non-sexyman can look like THAT?

BLOODSHED AND CHAOS ON THE PLANET EARTH.

Vote for the little guy! Jimmy deserves to have a win! 

Phil’s winning MY sexyman poll

QUACKITY SWEEP 2023 PLS HE NEEDS THIS

Endorsed by Martyn, I repeat, we are endorsed by Martyn!

Vote Mumbo 4 sexyman! It’s been too long since he’s been campaigned for something against his will! With your help we can change that!

That last comment stopped Grian in his tracks, as suddenly as if he had hit a wall. The chatter behind him immediately went quiet with a sensation distinctly similar to an entire crowd holding their breath.

Grian ignored them and opened his inventory, swiping through it slowly until he took out his ender chest. He set it down and knelt, rifling through his diamonds and knicknacks, “You know…” he started, taking out a well-worn white shirt and holding it up to the light. A faded “MUMBO 4 MAYOR” shone in dull red at him, “It has been a while since I last wore this.”

Gumbot blinked at him, his mustache beginning to bounce up and down, a musical jingle starting to play as he booted up a sentence. A little piece of paper shot out of the dispenser, wafting down to the ground. With a growing grin, Grian picked up the paper, which read in big, bold words: MUMBO JUMBO 4 TUMBLR SEXYMAN.

“Well, Grumbot.” Grian planted his hands on his hips and smiled up at his huge, homicidal, robot son, “It looks like we have our work cut out for us, don’t we?

[crossovershipstournament]

SIDE 2A: ROUND 2: Megaman (Megaman)/Pit (Kid Icarus) VS Selina Kyle (Catwoman) (DC Comics)/Loki (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

Propaganda for Megaman/Pit:

This ask, which includes the art used in the bracket image!

Oh my god. This one came immediately to mind. Idk how big the ship is now, but I remember like seeing it everywhere back when Super Smash Bros Ultimate was like popular on Tumblr/Twitter. I think it was originally a crackship cause both of them were in Captain N (a cartoon), but it’s like a serious thing now. Literally all it took was one interaction between them (there’s like dialogue you can get if you do some combination when you play as Pit) which is just Pit gushing about Mega Man. It’s cute. And honestly kind of iconic

#MEGAPIT ?? good for them #go back in time and tell kid me the ship he came up with on a whim would be in a tumblr bracket :'3

#megapit sweep!

#megapit nation let's pokémon go to the polls #let's give it for a wholesome and iconic crackship

#MEGAPIT NATION RISE. RISE. RISE #MEGAPIT

#MEGAPIT!!!1!

#MEGAPIT NATION RISE UP

#c'mon megapit nation #sure they may lose but let's get them some votes anyways!

Propaganda for Selina Kyle (Catwoman)/Loki:

Two not quite villains who will never be content as heroes despite how much their friends and family would like them to be. They can sass each other and steal things together. In fact, Loki, being old as most artifacts, can claim that anything they steal technically belongs to him through some convoluted story that may or may not be true. So they've got this game going on with Batman. If he catches them, the museum can keep the object. Otherwise, Loki gets to keep "his stuff" and no one bothers them to avoid an incident with Asgard. It drives Batman up the wall. Loki and Selina are two beautiful Neutrals with a dash of chaos. He adores her and she loves his mystery and pizzazz. They bring out the best in each other. The Joker is dead and Loki has taken over his turf as the Crown Prince of Crime Alley. He sits on his ice throne with his darling Selina, finding new and vicious nonfatal ways of dealing with those who try to usurp them. They might intervene if they hear someone is doing something evil enough, so if you want to get rid of your enemies, feel free to snitch. Selina and Loki both think the other is sexy. Selina loves that Loki isn't quite evil but she doesn't feel bad for stealing when she's with him. He makes it fun. Loki loves that Selina has given him a chance and doesn't have grand expectations of heroics from him. That he doesn't need power to keep her.

Reasons why Batman does not like this ship:

-Selina knows Bruce Wayne is Batman, and by virtue of that fact, so does Loki. To keep things fun and remind the other rogues he's still a "villain" Loki likes to kidnap Bruce once a month and demand Batman come and rescue him. It's very annoying. The other Rogues assume Loki does this since Batman and Catwoman used to be a thing. Really Loki just thinks it's funny that Bruce can't escape without ruining his whole "Brucie" image. It's also a great way to clear a fancy restaurant and have a private date with Selina when she's called to "talk him down" until "Batman" shows up.

-Loki doesn't know how to drive. Selina has decided to teach him. And since Bruce is a family friend, she has decided that means she can "borrow" his cars any time. Bruce has lost track of how many times he's left the office to find his car isn't where he parked it. Loki is a madman on the streets. So ofc he gets pulled over a lot. Never fear! He just magics him and Selina to look like Bruce and his latest girlfriend. Bruce is this close to getting his license revoked.

-Loki and Selina wait until Batman is about to head from his patrol to rob the museum. They've made a game out of it with a point system and everything. Thankfully they only do it on relatively quiet nights to make sure the gets his steps in.

Reasons Batman likes the ship:

-Selina is happy. Really happy. She lights up whenever she's with Loki. Loki just melts in her arms. Any idiot could see they're in love. They banter and flirt with each other everywhere from the grocery store to the middle of a high speed chase.

-He knows Loki would tear the world apart for Selina. He would face down Thanos all over again if he had too.

-Any villain stupid enough to interrupt their date night will be swiftly returned to Arkham.

Reasons Robin likes the ship:

-Selina and Loki are going to adopt his best friend Colin Wilkes.

-Loki and Selina protect all the animal shelters.

-Loki and Selina are always down to help him sneak animals into the manor.

Reason Robin does not like the ship:

-Loki and Selina are firm believers in PDA and Damian is at the age when cooties are very much still a thing.

Lovely art~!

Art Credit: Megaman/Pit art by @/farraigeart Catwoman/Loki art by @/kannra-orhara

[nellie-elizabeth]

The Legend of Vox Machina: The Trials of Vasselheim (2x02)

I've got to say, this show is bringing such joy into my life right now...

Cons:

I thought visually that Vasselheim wasn't quite as cool looking as I wanted it to be? Individual details were cool, but the first view of the city as a whole, that first big sweeping view, wasn't quite as impressive as what we saw of Emon or even Whitestone. I don't know, maybe I need to re-watch to appreciate it more.

This is an exposition-heavy episode, what with Highbearer Vord briefly meeting Vox Machina just to tell them no, then to the Slayer's Take, then down to see Osysa. It's a lot of information imparted very quickly, about the ancient history of this world, and setting up the Vestiges of Divergence fetch quest, and meanwhile we're cutting back to Grog's subplot. So once again I'm in the position of saying I enjoyed all the individual things I was seeing, but wish there was another five minutes so the transitions between all these different scenes and characters and concepts could have a bit more breathing room.

Pros:

But let's actually start with the Grog subplot stuff, because honestly I'm pretty impressed so far! Grog is a character who I think might be particularly hard to translate from stream to screen. It's the way Grog's utter stupidity is contrasted with Travis' performance of it, the way he is so very much in on the joke the whole way through. You can't really translate that to animated form. And yet, I think they've done a decent job! He's affable and ridiculous and sweet and also super violent, all of these things mixed together. He's too stupid to realize his evil magic sword is talking to him, even after Gilmore points out that it's sinister and Groon tells him it's a weakness to rely on it. But he's also smart enough to realize he's being asked a trick question during his trial with Groon, even if he can't quite get to the answer Groon is looking for.

I've got to say, the Grog butterfly meme moment was fucking hilarious to me, I don't care how stupid it is. I also really liked the moment when he asked Groon if perhaps he'd been told his name and then forgotten, as I think it shows that Grog, while not much of a thinker, does have some self-awareness about his own limitations. As a bonus, this episode also includes the famous Critter greeting, which is Grog's mishearing of the words "good day," as "bidet." It's so charming and funny and sweet that they managed to include that in there for us.

Also a nice little treat was getting to see Victor, although I was a little confused as to whether the explosion at the end was meant to be the demise of that character, or whether he'll get to have his heroic participation in the endgame too. Who knows. Either way, hearing Matt do that ridiculous voice was such a delight. And we get to be reminded of Anna Ripley, that lingering threat...

And then there's the Slayer's Take! I love the way they folded in the backstory that the show skipped over, incorporating it as part of Vex and Vax's past. Such a smart way to have Zahra feel like a familiar, established character, and get the purpose and function of the Slayer's Take established easily and seamlessly. Kash is one of my favorite side characters from all of Critical Role. Zahra too, but I just love Kash's dry delivery and snarky one-liners. The way he flatly expressed his disinterest in Vex's flirting was great. And the arrow through the wanted poster of the twins... what a jerk! In the best way, of course.

Instead of a bar-room brawl between Vox Machina and the Slayer's Take, instead we get a visit to Osysa, an ancient Sphynx who sponsors the Slayer's Take and acts as a representative for the Knowing Mistress on Exandria. Here, we get a test of wills, as all of the various members of Vox Machina confront their fears. I like how extremely fantasy-tropey this whole segment was, but I was also just so, so impressed with how Osysa's insight and delivery told us so much about the characters so succinctly. Keyleth fears failing her Aramente, she also fears becoming an Archdruid and outliving her support system. Vex seeks approval from a distant father. Vax relies entirely on his sister. Percy wallows in self-pity and yearns for forgiveness. Pike worries about saving her loved ones. And Scanlan... well, nobody cares about Scanlan, you see. (FUCK this is gonna hurt. If you know, you know.)

Once Pike leads the way in standing her ground and demanding to be heard, Osysa gives them the guidance they need. She explains about the Vestiges of Divergence, sending our heroes on a fetch quest to find powerful items to help defeat the dragon. The animation in showing the Vestiges, the history of the Calamity, was so beautiful and strange, and Osysa was so sinister and mysterious and gorgeous. This season feels a lot more D&D-ish, in a lot of ways, than season one did. We've got dragons, and now we've got this mission where our heroes need to track down magic items to save the day. I don't say that as a criticism, I actually kind of love it. I know where this is all going, broadly, but I continue to be delighted by the clever way they streamline, rearrange, cut, and add to this animated show!

Okay, onward to episode three. I'm sure everything will be fine. I'm sure I won't burst into tears at all.

8.5/10

[theadventurerslog]

Quest For Glory II: Trial by Fire | Part 5

The Adventurer's Log

Starting right off with some action today. Air elemental time! I headed straight to the palace plaza where I was told it was and still got startled when I nearly walked straight into it.

I had to chase it a bit, but then I was able to just throw my sand into it. I expected to struggle a lot more. But it just... worked. I'm a bit weirded out by this. Then I used the bellows to suck it in and that was one air elemental captured.

His proud heroic expression is funny.

The Katta merchants were pleased and thanked me. So, another elemental caught bright and early in the morning leaving the rest of the day. I realized that while I bugged Aziza about every elemental I hadn't done with the Apothecary so I went to go prod him some more.

He didn't have anything to say about water or air. And, he wasn't as helpful as I would have liked about earth.

"What is Earth?"

The ground! Land! Rock! Something to climb over when you remember you can click on things and not all solutions require only spells. What are you telling me my man? Hopefully things will click when it's time.

I'm not sure what should lead to think of asking about dispel potions but while there I went ahead and did that. Maybe the saurus clues? I just knew... once I remembered... from having watched this game before. He can make some but he's missing a couple ingredients: griffin feather and a 'fruit of compassion' of which it's rumoured it can only be found from one plant in the entire land.

Plant like a tree! I didn't know if I could do anything for her yet though. The griffin though, I knew where that was.

I thought I'd need to cast fetch for the feather but nope, I needed to levitate then grab one from its nest.

Which is nice honestly. So far I'd only used levitate in the WIT exam, so I'm glad there was finally another use for it again. My saurus had quite the expression during that...

Then I just did some grinding. I fought another scorpion, sold another tail, died to a scorpion. Not much to say about the rest of the day.

Day 9 was looking quiet too. At least no mention of anything when I got up in the morning. So, I explored the desert....found nothing but a couple fights. Took a nap at the oasis and chucked some spells around then went back for dinner and sleep.

Day 10. I wanted to see if I go back to the WIT. I could get the door to appear but I couldn't enter, boo. So I went for a practice session with Uhura. Then I came out to find my saurus had been looking for me again.

And I finally caught the face lick. Gronk!! Otherwise I just did a shop sweep for anything I might've missed and a bit more grinding. Another quiet day.

Day 11. I was informed Omar would be reading again tonight and personally requested I be there so he could speak me with after.

Over my breakfast order Shema noted there were rumours I was planning to go to Raseir soon, which was news to me! My hero's got a mind of his own. But if I go she asked I look for her cousin, Sharaf.

I bought another cloth bag since mine was full of sand and I couldn't figure out a way to empty it without dropping the whole thing and losing it which might be fine, but I'm nothing if not an item hoarder.

As I was headed out into the desert I was informed by the guard that a caravan would pass in six days and I'd need to join it if I wanted to go to Raseir. Gee, is a trip to Raseir coming up?

I fought another scorpion for another tail to sell but otherwise nothing of note in the desert. I was feeling rich with 191 dinars though. I ended up with yet another tail and broke 200 dinars but I bought more pills because why not. Even though I probably already had enough.

I chatted with Keapon again. Nothing about the fruit of compassion, but I got a bit of info about the earth and water elementals. Well, hints anyway.

Ridiculous gnome.

Come evening it was time to see Omar. He had a reward from the Sultan for me for dealing with the air elemental. 50 dinars!

Then it was poem time and he regaled us with tales of my heroism against the fire and air elementals.

Things were going well. Then I tried chatting with them but couldn't really think of anything new to ask them, so I went to bed.

Day 12. Now it was earth elemental time. There was one causing some havoc in the city. Though I wasn't told where this time.

I checked the plazas and in the fountain plaza the Katta merchants talked about feeling rumbling and hearing things in the streets. So, I started checking out the streets nearby and ran into it. Like the air elemental it kind of startled me too.

I was told by two or three different sources that it doesn't like fire, so I cast flame dart and three of those brought it down though it got too close to me for comfort.

My flame darts reduced it to dirt.

I scooped some into my cloth bag.

Essence of earth elemental? Good for a tree?

On my way out the guard had a message for me from the Dervish.

I guessed I'd go see him too, though I wasn't sure if I needed to, but tree first.

I put the earth elemental into her soil then told her about it.

Then she sprouted leaves.

And I was able to hug her and tell her about her name, Julanar, to show her love. A fruit of compassion sprouted and I was able to take it.

So, she's kind of come back to herself? In a way? This quest is bittersweet. Hopefully she can be fully restored one day.

The dervish didn't particularly have anything for me except a maybe puzzling clue.

"To the west of Shapeir and north of here stands a puzzle. Five W's. West of Shapeir five screens maybe??

For the time being I brought the fruit to the apothecary to get my dispel potion--three potions in fact. To work though I'd need a hair of the target and then make them drink it.

So, based on the Dervish's clue I tried going 5 screens west of Shapeir. I couldn't go north, so I tried south, which should still be north of the oasis depending on how far I went. A few screens down I found a caged beast.

No idea if this is what the dervish was referring to, but hey I found a thing!

Examining it revealed it was weakened for lack of food and water. And its eyes were boring into me...

I cast Detect Magic and detected a strong enchantment on the beast and cage.

I gave it food and water and while it ate I took a hair and it was automatically added to one of the dispel potions.

He turned out to be a man named Al Scurva who was an apprentice Sorcerer. His former master, Ad Avis transformed and left him there to die. Then he gave me a warning to not go near Ad Avis unless I had spell of protection or was very quick.

And Ad Advis is planning some major ritual magic for when the moon arises between the Scorpion's claws and the Dragon's teeth. If he succeeds it'll be bad, like best not be in this land bad. Then he gave me a final warning that Ad Avis awaits me in Raseir, thanked me for the food and water and skedaddled.

I returned home and went to see Aziza who thanked me for helping Julanar. I asked her about Ad Avis and she said he only cares for power. She wouldn't be surprised if he was behind the Darkness in Raseir. Getting a name to our dark villain!

Day 12 was quite eventful. Onward to day 13 which was looking to be quieter again. Shema wished me a good day over breakfast. No elemental attacks here. Yet. Still waiting for water.

I didn't quite know what to do with myself so I swept through town to talk to people again and see what came up. Like:

What a lovely way to start the morning. Nothing like some impending doom to spice up your day. No one else had much of anything new to say.

I did some fighting out in the desert and discovered there is a limit on how many scorpion tails you can sell.

Sure I don't NEED more money, but it was nice. And I had two tails weighing me down so I ultimately dropped them which is an affront to my item hoarding ways.

A little training with Uhura then it was time to go to bed. Onward to day 14...

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 14th November

Well, both of this week's songs look properly obscure. Which is interesting, I guess? I feel like this is the funny thing about this project - sometimes I do get the feeling that I'm probably the only person in the world who's listening to all these songs in these particular combinations and actively trying to form opinions on them. It's kind of cool, but also you do listen to a lot of complete nonsense - as we shall see this week.

You Got-Ta Have Something in the Bank, Frank - Frankie Vaughan and the Kaye Sisters (8)

This song is very silly. That's not a bad thing. I like some silliness as much as the next person, and this song is great, because for the first time you get the sense that somebody's realised that Frankie could do really well with some genuinely funny stuff. No more stuffy songs for him to ham up - we're giving him something that's genuinely goofy here, and surprise, surprise, it works!

The premise is simple, and honestly, quite funny. Frankie keeps flirting with his lady, but every time he says he loves her, she responds by reminding that You gotta have something in the bank, Frank, and promising that once you have something in the bank, Frank, I'll give you my heart. And thus we get this interplay between a besotted Frankie and the Kaye Sisters, who play the part of his more pragmatic paramour, who reminds him constantly that hey, hey Frankie, we can't live in a tent / No, no, Frankie, you've gotta pay the rent.

It's funny, of course, but it also gives us these lovely little snapshots of 1950s life, as the Kaye sisters sing about how they need a stove to cook the food, and a big refrigerator, / They'll come from the factory and we'll make the payments later. As she reminds Frankie, we need a house, we need a car with lots of gadgets on it / You need lots of steaks and chops and the baby needs a bonnet. It's such a time capsule, in a way, harking back to an era of stay-at-home housewives competing for the latest time-saving kitchen gadgets, and best-dressed babies, and nicest cars. And of course, the husband's the breadwinner, so you need to bag yourself a man who can afford to fund all that, you know? It's such a 1950s image of how family finances work, and it generally feels like the sort of dynamic you'd see in a classic 1950s or 1960s sitcom.

In all this, it helps that the music is also good, goofy fun. From speedy strummed guitar, to plucked bass, silly trombones and the Kaye sisters' almost cartoonishly prim and proper backing vocals - nothing here is trying to be taken seriously. Gone are the sweeping, cinematic strings and rolling timpani, and all in all, I think it's definitely an improvement. Good job, Frankie.

My Dixie Darling - Lonnie Donegan (10)

As is par for the course with Lonnie, this is a very American song. With the references to "Dixie" in the title, and the rather military snare drum at the start, you might even be forgiven for assuming it's a Civil War song. It isn't - it's a Carter Family number from 1936 - but this is a song that's absolutely steeped in the historic US north-south divide, with its talk of my Dixie darling, of winning big at the Kentucky Races, and of how I'm gonna marry, settle down / Settle down in a Southern town, / Buy myself a small homestead / Bloom in peace until I'm dead. It's a deliberately old-fashioned, nostalgic view of the southern US, and honestly, it's kind of weird that it's this particular strand of folk music that Lonnie - a Glaswegian! - would choose to resurrect, complete with a fake Southern accent.

Then again, sonically, you've got everything here that Lonnie seems to like, so maybe it's just the sound of it that appeals. You've got some fast, fancy banjo-work, lightweight lyrics that you can repeat over and over again until they lose all meaning, and an ending that you can just speed up and up until you crash into the end of the track. The southern US details are basically colour, at this point - the whole point's the sound of it, the energy, the carefully corralled and controlled chaos.

With that in mind, I guess it's fine. It's not Lonnie's most intense song, or his most memorable, but there's enough energy to keep it going, and I do like bits of it. The drone you get over the intro, for example - that's fun! Plus, you've got a pretty sick solo in the middle, and some cool drumming right at the end. And I appreciated the little boost you get as the song speeds up near the end. But yeah. Overall, I think it's just... fine. Not my favourite Lonnie Donegan tune, but perfectly serviceable.

(I should also note here that I spent most of my first listen-through wondering if a "banjo-rotting tune" was meant to be a good or a bad thing. Turns out he was singing about having his "banjo right in tune", and I just can't make out words well. Oops.)

I wasn't inspired by either of these two songs, but like I said, I kind of like the thought that I might be the only person in the world right now listening to specifically these two songs on repeat. It's cool to unearth something like that, even when the song you end up with is kinda average. And sometimes you also get a silly song about your wife wanting to buy a new refrigerator. So there's that.

Favourite song of the bunch: You Got-Ta Have Something in the Bank, Frank

[sailsinstorms]

Legacy of the Girls - Part 4

Let's continue reading, shall we?

So I assume Radley was feeling down about being chewed out by Molly, because Winter decided to give her a bit of a pick-me up. She's such a nice sim. Honestly, everyone likes Winter in this household. She's the most unproblematic sim ever.

It's now HarvestFest. And they've simultaneously shut off the power at the same time. Great. Love that for us.

The house actually looks kinda cool without power. It's kinda serene. The girls are all off doing their own thing and it's super peaceful for once.

UH, what do the gnomes want with Radley's garden? They're not going to do anything to it are they? This is a sacred place back here. A place of nature and healing!

Radley succeeded with appeasing her gnome but Winter failed with hers. What does this mean? I've never done HarvestFest before. I'm so confused. Wait, are they going to destroy her crops?!

I leave one of these girls alone for 5 minutes while I get distracted by some gnomes and this happens. Well at least Solar's not on fire.

She' a classy girl.

Good for you girl. Good for you. I guess this Knox guy was just off his game the other day when he did it with Loren — in the exact same bed. Which is Winter's bed.

I wanted to get Loren to cook a "grand meal" for everyone for HarvestFest so they could fulfill the day's objective's but I forgot all the power had been cut off. What are we supposed to do now, Loren!? HarvestFest must go on!

She managed to appease the gnome-gods. Well done!

Molly: Please little Gnome, I beg of you! Don't bring your wrath down on my house (or I'll fucking put you in the microwave. Yes that is a threat).

Success! That's 3 angelic gnomes. I feel slightly safe now.

Since the power's out and there are no electronics available Radley has been forced to amuse herself outside. So she's raking some leaves to stay occupied. The funny thing about Radley is she loves gardening, but hates being outside. She often wants to stay inside for 8 hours or more. She's a little contradictory, but then again they all are…

Radley: *viciously hollering down Mortimer Goth as he walks past* I need to tell you about this absolute BABE called Winter Lourdez. Sweetest girl I know. 

Mortimer: Wow, she sounds terrific! I mean, I am married. But if I see her around I'll definitely hit her up for a chat, I guess. Radley: That's great!

Wait, what's happening. Why is this guy still here!?

You better be taking him upstairs to show him that pot plant near the third bathroom! You had better not be making your way towards Molly's bed again, WITH THAT GUY. I mean at this rate he's gonna get a clean sweep through the whole household. Where did this guy come from?!

Oh my God. Is this real life? This can't be happening to us. Whatever the result, I support you though hun. I promise I'll follow through with those wants and fears. I got you.

Mya is proving to be quite a little demon. This is not her first time going crazy all over the dining room table and people's food. Love her to pieces, but GET OFF!

Molly: I'm just trying to eat my dinner. Why is this untrainable pest sitting her watching me eat my cake? Can't a girl eat alone in the dark in peace!?

You've got to be kidding me! Loren has only slept with the one person and it was Knox. And Knox literally just finished having sex with two of the other girls in my household. Does this mean all three of them are going to get crab lice?! Is this what Radley's always yelling about when her crab emote comes up?!

Crab lice... damn.

Molly: Why are you naked right now? Loren: I'm itchy... my cupcake feels better without any underwear.... Solar: *putting 2 and 2 together in her head and realizing it = crabs*

You got lucky today Winter. Very lucky.

Previous | Archive | Next

[hereforhalstead]

A night of learning

*GIF NOT MINE, full credit to the owner*

Requested?: meh kindaaaa, i have quite a few in my inbox that are very similar to this but not 100% so didn’t want to take anyone’s in particular so thought I’d just mash a load into one for now.

• Warnings: mentions of alcohol

• Summary: You and Jay were known for having a flirty work relationship but what happens when you decide enough is enough and you turn up at his place one night?

Words: 2,398 (this looked a lot shorter than it turned out to be lmao)

• A/N : I’m not gonna apologise again for being gone as god knows how many of these I post with that intro but I’m hoping to be back in the swing of things as I have a tonne of requests to get through and I don’t want anyone thinking their request is being ignored as I promise it isn’t! Meh I don’t love it but here we are.. also couldn’t think of a name for this and wanted to get it so title is work in progress🤣

Hope you enjoy🥰

****

“Why are you here?” He asked, voice filled with desperation yet a hint of doubt as you let your gaze fall to the floor “Honesty I don’t know, I just started walking and next I knew I was here”.

The hallway fell silent, suddenly regretting ever turning up to his apartment at all as you wish the narrow and never ending feeling of an empty walk way would swallow you whole to allow you to escape the situation.

“Maybe Adam will let me crash at his?” You suggest, glancing up to see the faint sign of a smile sweep across his face as his eyes light with humour “you’re funny” he comments, lightly grabbing at your arm to bring you into his apartment “you’re not going there”

You let him guide you around his place, having only been there a few times but knowing it like the back of your hand. Easily gliding into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water as he is quick on your trail to shadow your movements.

Holding back his instincts to offer his hand out to help you, even something as innocent as putting a hand on your back for support as you reached to the top shelf for the glass was crossing the line. He wanted to touch you, be connected to you but he didn’t know how.

“Anything I can help with?” His voice breaks the silence, peering over your shoulder as you place the now empty glass on the draining board by the sink and slowly turning to him with a shrug of your shoulders.

“I don’t think so” you reassure, innocence filling your eyes as he towers over you “was just thirsty” you add, watching as he scans your face for answers as he was still in the dark about your actions and end goal of turning up at his place.

His eyes were pinned to you, no matter what he tried he just couldn’t force his attention away from you. Not even in a devouring way, just a concerned and well mannered nature as if he just wanted to make sure you were okay.

You paced aimlessly about his apartment, scanning the various jackets he had thrown over the furniture or even the shoes that had been kicked off throughout the evening after a long day at work, this was the Jay Halstead you wish to know and were finally getting a glimpse into.

He had always tried to put on a front for you, relentlessly tidying before you came round to discuss a case or insisting on meeting at a local cafe instead of his apartment to make things seem more professional.

“So you came here, because you were thirsty?”

His voice breaks the silence, hot on your heels as you lean back against the sofa to turn and face him. Watching as the gap between the pair of you was minimising with his effortlessly long strides across the room. You shrug your shoulders, honestly not having an answer for why you were there but it being the only thing that came to your mind with how you felt that night.

He raises his brows, a moment of hesitance crosses his gaze like he’s going to say something, but then it’s gone. He flashes his cocky little grin instead to which you throw back a scorn in response “what were you just thinking?”

Your voice was almost mumbled, barely audible as you ask but the way his eyes seem to light up tells you he heard loud and clear “well, wouldn’t you like to know?”

You subtly nod, clasping your hands together in front of you as you pick at your fingernails through anxiousness as you await his answer. He lets out an overly dramatic sigh, shaking his head as he crosses his arms over his chest.

Keeping your eyes from flicking over to his flexed muscles was something you’d perfected over the past few months but tonight it seemed mere impossible and even he knew it.

“Just making sure we’re both on the same page about what ‘thirsty’ means” he jokes, air quotes thrown up in amusement as your jaw drops. Rolling your eyes, you copy his stance in folding your arms to almost keep him at a distance as he continues to inch closer to you.

Regretting blocking yourself in as you feel the back of your legs hit the sofa, a firm jolt reminding you that you couldn’t go any further.

The way his eyes roamed about your body, scanning between your features as if it was the first time he’d seen you. You feel your breath catch in your throat, the air seeming thick as if it was getting warmer by the second.

What felt like minutes had gone by since anything was said, the pair of you waiting for the other to speak but both unsure of how to continue the tone he had set.

He was soon at your feet, towering over you with he dominance he knew he had. His breath hitting your forehead as you tilted your head back to meet his hungry gaze, watching as his eyes flicked down to your lips and then back up to your eyes like he couldn’t control what he was doing.

The only noise coming from the cars rushing past on the street below and the faint sounds of conversation in the apartment block hallway, you harshly gulped which caused a slight smirk to spread on his lips as he knew he was winning.

You’d never surcommed to someone so easily by just a few words but here you were, speechless and praying he’d make the first move but the tension soon falling flat when he retracts himself.

“I’m gonna put a pizza in the oven, you want some?” He innocently asks, like he didn’t have you pinned just a few seconds ago on the verge of a mental breakdown wondering if he was going to kiss you,

“Sure” you comment, words seeming impossible to form as you try to pull yourself together. Taking the opportunity to let out the deep breath you were holding and stretching your legs to regain some feeling in them as his back was to you, knowing the grin that he would have on his face with how he’d left you reeling for more.

You followed his trail, leaning on the door frame to the kitchen and watching as he reached for a a pizza out of the freezer and shoving it in the oven without even checking to read the cooking instructions on the packaging before tossing it in the trash “never had you down as a frozen pizza kinda guy, Halstead”

“So we’re both learning things tonight then” he hits back, slight shrug of his shoulders as he grabs himself a beer out of the fridge before holding one out to you “still thirsty?”

You take it from his hold, fingers lightly grasping at his before you bring the bottle to your lips. Your inner self celebrating as his eyes were fixed on you, like you were performing some miracle before his very self the way he was tantalised by your movements.

“What else are you learning then?” You change the subject, referencing his earlier comment as he shakes himself back to reality. Also taking a sip from his bottle as he leans back on the side, again you can’t ignore the disappointment you feel that he hadn’t continued to make a move on you but the way you’d frozen like a deer in headlights when he attempted before, can you really blame him?

You curse yourself for not being braver when it came to showing how you felt and it wasn’t the first time. Something as simple as him remembering your coffee order had your heart doing somersaults or the time he stayed up all night just to make sure you weren’t working alone on a case that you’d felt particularly attached to.

It seemed second nature for him to look out for you, that’s why it began to be so easy to fall for him even when you’d tried so hard not to.

‘Don’t date guys you work with, don’t date cops’

It was one of the top rules on your list and you’d failed, good one.

The infectious smile that seemed to make everything okay, the strong presence he had when he entered a room was enough to have you floored let alone the endless charm that had you weak at the knees. Even when he tried to be off with you, he couldn’t.

You’d have banter about how bad the others dating life is, countless digs about how hopeless it was and even the thought of how much stick you’d get for turning up to work the next morning in the same clothes as the day before from staying out all night wasn’t worth the half hearted pleasure you’d get from some guy you’d been speaking to from Molly’s.

All the comments were followed by that little show of a smile, the huff of laughter as you both knew how to get on each other’s nerves but still be at the forefront of every conversation and thought.

It just worked, so why was it so difficult for you to admit you had feelings and hope he felt the same?

You suddenly realise where you are and snap yourself out of your thoughts, him slightly bending to your eye level with a click of his fingers as he chuckles

“don’t tell me you’ve turned up to my place and you’re thinking about another guy?” He takes another sip of his beer with a roll of his eyes “talk about a slap in the face y/n”

“Well I’m learning that you’re an annoying ass” you let slip, your frustration getting the best of you as he widens his eyes in shock “didn’t expect that” he mumbles, placing his beer on the side as you pray he walks over to where you were standing but again the familiar feeling of disappointment when he opens the oven door to check on the pizza before closing it again and adding more time on the timer.

“You wanna know what I’m learning?” He asks, still not even facing you as your throw your head back in annoyance. Call it being ‘egocentric’ but you thought you’d only have to be here not even an hour for him to have his lips on you.

The entire journey over you played the thoughts in your mind, the scenes you’d hope would happen that spurred you on to put your foot down on the gas a little more to speed up the journey over to his place.

You’d have thought he loved when you played hard to get as he always needed to have the last word and get his own way. You’d reeled him in but then lost him when you didn’t bite at the first opportunity he gave you, full of regret at not taking the chance when he offered it.

“Go on” you realise you still hadn’t spoken but at this point had began questioning if he even wanted you there and cared if you stayed or not.

He tilts his head, again taking another sip of his beer as he ponders in thought. You hated how much joy he was getting out of this, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t surpress the level of smugness he was experiencing. Noticing as the corners of his lips couldn’t resist from turning at whatever he had his mind on.

Your heart rate picks up as he sets the bottle down on the side next to him, stepping towards you to squeeze himself into the narrow gap that was besides you in the door frame. Placing his arm above your head to lean over you as he brings his lips down to your ear

“That you’d turn up to my place, expecting me to be able to resist touching you”

You feel his eyes burning into your body, pushing himself towards you as he reaches to run a finger along your jawline “you don’t know what you do to me” he breathes, you lingering on his every word with a slight moan escaping your lips as he grasps at your hips to diminish any space there was between you.

“I think I may have some idea” you suggest, taking your bottom lip between your teeth for a brief moment and watching as he swallows in attempt to compose himself as his eyes slowly drop to your action.

“believe me, you wouldn’t begin to imagine half of the things I’ve thought about doing to you”

You clutch at the back of his neck, lightly scraping at the already tousled hair that fell with a slight tug “then show me”

You could tell he was losing all willpower, his cravings becoming harder to ignore as he leans down towards you with a hungry chuckle and determination behind his gaze

“Oh baby, I thought you’d never ask”.

***

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[ihatebnha]

This was probably asked b4 and if it was link me to it but I rlly wanna hear your takes on how different mha villains would kiss someone 😨😨 If I had to pick some specific characters I'd probably do the mainstream trio of shiggy toga and dabi 😇🙏

anything 4 u😜

-

Shigaraki kisses deep and slow, which is unexpected given that he does have quite a few moments of desperate intensity. Outside of these intimate moments, however, his kisses are soft; the type that have him staring at you beforehand, eyes drooped low as though he’s asking for permission. It’s almost like he’s waiting for you to change the pace of things, because even with tongue, he’s taking his time.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, Toga is happy with anything and everything… though if you leave things completely up to her… she’s giving wet ass smooches that have her standing before you with her eyes closed and lips puckered. It’s cute how eager she is, though you gotta be careful before one kiss turns into two and then two turns into a whole make out session (with tongue) right before you gotta leave for work. MWAH! in the flesh.

There’s also very little in between for Dabi, as well. Likes his kisses in brief pecks or he likes them wet, and if he thinks you’re pulling back to soon, he’s not hesitating to drag you right back in to do the work of getting them himself. Give him the goddamn string beans.

Twice’s kisses, however, are oddly chaste, which is funny given how he’s always talking about wanting to sweep you off your feet. He holds your face in his palms so gently just to press his mouth against yours in the barest of pecks. You honestly have to be the one to deepen it, but it’s alright because he’s reassured very easy and gets excited even quicker.

And Mr. Compress… talk about a good ass kisser right there. Sweeps you in with a delicate press of his lips before adding just the right amount of tongue. It’s honestly surprising how good he is at it because it makes you wonder WHAT he was doing in high school. Way too intimate for his own good, and if you’re not already dating… it’s gonna make you want to.

[maiathebee]

Lots of the same complaints about Persuasion keep popping up (modern language, girl boss-ification) but it’s so much more than that so here are all my thoughts on the worst bits (I know all complaining does is generate buzz but what else am I gonna do with my Sunday night??):

Out of jealousy in the first like 2 minutes in Wentworth’s presence, Anne brings up (in front the musgroves and crofts and wentworth) that Charles wanted to marry her first.  This basically establishes her as just as self-centered and narcissistic as her sisters?? Making things worse for literally everyone?? By acting like a teenager?  Insane and embarrassing for the characters and hurtful to anyone who likes Anne Elliot.

Absolutely horrendous editing. In one scene she complains about something Wentworth said the night before, but he didn’t say it on film so it’s confusing as to if she’s misremembering?? In multiple scenes they’ve added dialogue over scenes where you can literally see their lips NOT moving, but they have spoken lines? (for instance, 35:49). It feels like a Hallmark film. Embarassing for the filmmakers.  I hate the idiotic conversation in which Anne is surprised to find Louisa thinks she’s not interested in Wentworth (despite constantly avoiding him), and then Louisa saying “you barely look at him” when they’ve been in the same place one time??? and Anne looked at him the WHOLE time??? Like did ANY single person check this film for continuity?? When Mary makes Anne leave Lyme so that Anne can care for the children? But then Anne doesn’t go in the house and she says she has to go to Bath? ??? What?

This film offers literally no breathing space at all.  There is no contemplation, tension, or think time. Conversations threat together at a breakneck pace.  They cut bits of the text that are funny and interesting and added totally weird and unnecessary scenes. I have to listen to Anne turn to the camera like a Love Island confessional? (Pro Tip: if your lead’s accent is passable at best, maybe don’t give them extended solo monologues throughout the film). Also, all the added Mary Being Annoying scenes? also that scene at the beach?? who wrote that??? a computer in the 90s?? A piece of barely sentient cardboard??

Louisa and Anne’s VERY weird relationship. They’ve turned Louisa into this weird antagonistic love rival? I hate it here. 

They constantly refer to the fact that Wentworth is without title or riches, but NEVER talk about how Lady Russell didn’t want Anne to marry a dude whose job could quickly widow her?? I get that they don’t want to go into the class dynamics of the baronetcy etc, but being a sailor = easy death shouldn’t be too intellectually complex?

The film has borrowed SO much visually from 2008 version.  So many scenes are framed almost exactly the same way.  This is not the beautiful big sweeping cinematic portrayal of this film I wanted. It’s just a made-for-tv movie :(

WHY would you make a British period drama and have everyone call each other by their first names?? NEVER bow in greeting??? Have Anne have hair that isn’t even MODERN but actually dated to about 2008?? Anne swimming alone at the beach? Men and women just alone in private all the time?

Dakota Johnson wearing thick ass mascara, glittery eye shadow and a beret.

The constant one-on-one conversations between Anne and Wentworth...... In the book when they’re in Bath and they finally have (somewhat) private conversations it’s like a WHOLE THING. Instead here they’ve just written expository fanfiction? Again, the scene at the beach honestly SO bad. “I didn’t know when I’d ever see you again, or if you’d know how much I cared.” “I think I always knew.  There’s no one quite like you.” That isn’t a conversation.  It also doesn’t follow any of the vibe we’ve had to that point.  Wentworth is already 100% down for Anne again? I’m sorry?  The people who wrote this movie missed the memo that the book is literally about struggling with the idea you don’t know what’s going on in another person’s mind.  It’s about tension. It’s about figuring out where people are coming from through their actions. It’s about REacquainting yourself with a person. Not just constantly word vomiting every single thought you have at every moment. “I genuinely hope you find love.” KILL ME “You want to know a secret?” “Always” I love this mature love story about two 90s grade schoolers.  The scene in the carriage where Wentworth goes on about him knowing Louisa was infatuated... I’m sorry but for a man who so readily and openly reflects on his wrongdoing and pride WHY did it take him 8 years to see Anne??? Make it make sense. “One can only imagine what our lives might have been” it’s like exposition that is incorrectly expositing... How does her getting injured get him out of their relationship>>>>????? this is a MAIN plot point of the story!!

Making Anne and him have conversations about his job and how she wants him to pursue a promotion. Imperialism :( Capitalism :( Girlboss :( “What would Anne do here?” “There I go, trying to protect you again” ............................................uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh

“You’re always best in an emergency” I love when movies tell me things instead of showing me things, thanks!

Anne constantly rejoicing in schadenfreude... weird! gross! There’s a lot of great schadenfreude in the text, but it’s not played out in the form of Anne like... rejoicing in her own family being embarrassed

The constant comedy piano in the background like a Hallmark film

The way this film spent almost nothing on set design, filming as much as possible outdoors.  Their house in Bath is in the crescent?? And they haven’ t even fancied it up, it looks straight up like a street in Bath in the 2020s. They don’t even properly film her going through the door! SIGH!

I knew they wouldn’t keep in Ms. Smith but I do maintain it’s not a Persuasion adaptation without her... like the way her character is ESSENTIAL to the class commentary/whole point of novel...

Imagine being literally unable to write an interesting yet smart woman. Our female character wants to insert an irreverent icebreaker?  How about her awkward octopus dream? And then we’ll make it into a sexual innuendo!! That way the teens will like our film probably

The scene with her breaking down in the bathtub is like a glimpse into the movie they thought they were making? “Anne Elliot who suffered cosmic loss but really held it together,” a film about someone who thinks they’re graceful and dignified but is actually a pathetic mess.  It’s such a filmy person interpretation. Like a movie person who read persuasion and was like... someone who dealt with grief by going inward? hmmm sounds like a drama queen lying to themselves!!!

Anne babbling “He’s quite charming” “He makes me laugh” with literally no prompting as if she’s the FL in a self-insert fanfic. Mr. Elliot flirting with Anne in front of Wentworth like the second lead of a self-insert fanfic. “I do hope you’ll be able to make it to the wedding” like a disney villain (I’m sorry but this film literally has never heard the word subtle, let alone ache pine yearn)(there is NO push, no pull, no moment where they HALF hope, no moment where they are half in agony)

Mr. Eliot inviting Wentworth to the concert and not Anne

Anne awkwardly waving to Wentworth in period gloves at the concert because no one bows in this movie (I’m sorry but like..................... this is so dumb)

Anne crying during the opera scene as if there was any fucking gravitas or pathos available from this film for me to care.  I have NEVER watched a Persuasion remake where this scene did not KILL me.  (A few minutes, though as few as possible, were inevitably consumed; and when her own mistress again, when able to turn and look as she had done before, she found herself accosted by Captain Wentworth, in a reserved yet hurried sort of farewell. "He must wish her good night; he was going; he should get home as fast as he could.""Is not this song worth staying for?" said Anne, suddenly struck by an idea which made her yet more anxious to be encouraging."No!" he replied impressively, "there is nothing worth my staying for;" and he was gone directly.Jealousy of Mr Elliot! It was the only intelligible motive. Captain Wentworth jealous of her affection! Could she have believed it a week ago; three hours ago! For a moment the gratification was exquisite. But, alas! there were very different thoughts to succeed. How was such jealousy to be quieted? How was the truth to reach him? How, in all the peculiar disadvantages of their respective situations, would he ever learn of her real sentiments? It was misery to think of Mr Elliot's attentions. Their evil was incalculable.) The way this movie has zoomed past all these emotions or stalled before reaching them at every turn. This scene is seriously just a copy of the 2008 version but it’s bad! No “There is nothing worth my staying for”

exchanging “when all hope is lost” for “when hope is gone” -- a truly minor yet truly offensive change. “Your love has not lasted as long as mine” “and I don’t think I ever will” ................. me reading the modern english translation of shakespeare in high school

Anne seeing Wentworth’s letter all the way across the room with her spidery senses

The theatre monologue recitation of the letter

The way the letter scene/running through Bath thing is almost exactly like the 2008 movie except I don’t care.... Anne could be hit by a carriage and I would barely notice a change of pace

Honestly we can just show the Mrs. Clay Mr. Elliot make out scene and be done with it and know this film is a farce. (I ran out of the inn searching for Mr. Wentworth when!!! I saw MR. ELLIOT locking TONGUES with the slut MrS. CLaY! In broad daylight in public on the street in the town where I also am!!! “Anne!” he yelped in surprise.  I could tell he was so sad I found him out!  :( He does love me. But what he doesn’t know is that I love Mr. Wentworth even more!) “I wish you both every happiness” *shrug* Me: SIGH

The way they built up to this climax with her running to him and then it was just ...long awkward pause before kiss... I don’t think most of the problems in this film are Dakota Johnson’s fault but she is not great at creating onscreen chemistry and I don’t understand why she is continually cast as romantic leads

This weird “some love is reeeeeeeally weird” voiceover over a marriage between Henry Golding’s character and the only fat person ever on screen in this film

Why does she wink at the end of the film? 

Things I liked:

Mary calling herself an Empath

When Louisa fell it felt so hard I literally gasped

Lady Russell actually being fun and likeable

Anne’s hat at the pastry shop in bath (all her other clothes are boring or suck)(it still looked dumb with her emo girl bangs and eyeliner)

[mountswhore]

𝐝𝐨𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 — jesse lingard

summary: jesse was afraid to lose you, but you have to reassure him that his money and fame mean nothing to you.

notes: requests are open, ask away!

for @bite-me-en-la-boca

Jesse was afraid to lose you, as simple as that. He wasn’t blind to the double takes people do when you walk past them, or the comments from men at the club when they pass. You were stunning — and Jesse knew that, along with everyone else.

Even his own friends would make little comments, obviously they knew they wouldn’t act on it, so did he, but his girlfriend was wanted by even his closest mates. It definitely made him hold onto you a little tighter. Whenever you’d visit him at training, or go to an event with him, he’d keep you close and constantly shower you in affection, so everybody knew you were his.

The Instagram comments were the worst, not only would his be littered with ‘she’s fit’ or ‘lucky man’, but yours were so vivid that you’d refuse to open them. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t scroll through them every once in a while to see what people were saying, only to return to you a while later with a heavy heart.

The whole of the UK male population were after you, which is why tonight was the worst for Jesse. You were celebrating Marcus’ birthday, and it was completely unlike him to want to go clubbing, but you both agreed anyway.

Jesse watched with a sick feeling in his stomach, almost feeling the need to grab his phone and text his best friend that he was too sick to go. And keep you at home. He knew what tonight would be like, he knew that someone would make a comment, or give you a suggestive glance, and it would ruin his night.

“How do I look?” You asked, smiling innocently up at your boyfriend. Even with heels on, he towered over you. Jesse pushed his negative thoughts to the side to compliment you.

“Wow. Where’s Y/N gone?” He asked, holding your hand and twirling you around slowly. You met his eyes once again with a pout, and Jesse kissed it away. There was never a day he didn’t compliment you on your beauty.

“Real funny. Are you ready?”

“Do I look ready?” Jesse countered, standing back from you and showing off his smart casual attire. You laughed and smoothed the fabric of his shirt down, smiling up at him. He looked back down at you with so much love in his eyes, you’d forget he was hiding his intrusive thoughts behind those eyes.

The pair of you left, getting an Uber to the club you were supposed to arrive at 20 minutes ago. Marcus was waiting inside, sitting in a booth with a few other United boys. The second Marcus spotted you, he moved out of the booth to greet you both.

“Jess,” Marcus spoke, pulling his best friend into a hug, “how’ve you been?”

Jesse just nodded, watching his attention divert from him to you. He squeezed you tightly and almost lifted you from your feet. He knew Marcus would never betray him like that, no matter how hot you were. He trusted Marcus entirely, but it was just adding fuel to the fire. Jesse felt tense from the moment he entered the club, the boys greeting you and having a laugh with you. It was off-putting, he just wanted to go home and watch your rubbish tv. He’d sit through hours of it if it meant you weren’t here getting preyed on.

Throughout the night, you’d had shot after shot, begging Jesse to dance with you an hour in. And he was keeping you close to him, eyes watching intently as you swayed your hips onto him. Your eyes were on him the entire time, not paying mind to the people around you. Jesse so badly wanted to enjoy this moment with you, but those eyes surrounding you were slowly pushing him over the edge.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” He snapped, causing a small space to form between the pair of you. You stepped back in shock, staring at your boyfriend who angrily stared at the people surrounding you.

His eyes had found yours again, but you were gone. You’d approached the booth Marcus was sitting at, wedging between him and Jadon, a frown on your face.

“What happened, Y/N?” Marcus questioned, an arm around your shoulder as you looked visibly upset. You saw Jesse sat at the bar now, head in his hands with a drink in front of him.

“He just shouted in front of everyone, it’s so embarrassing.” You stated, folding your arms and stealing a drink from the table. You didn’t know who the victim of the stolen drink was, quite frankly, you didn’t care. Jesse had bursted his anger in front of everyone, and even though it wasn’t directed at you, it still embarrassed you.

The next half hour was torture, you were slowly losing your buzz and the night was becoming boring. You were sandwiched between the two boys, and they refused to let you have any more drinks. Jesse was still sulking at the bar, but you didn’t care. You’d let him sulk there for the remainder of the evening, if need be.

“Guys, I think I might head home,” you mentioned, standing up and wiggling over the line of boys, “I’m super tired now.” You waved sweetly at Marcus, wishing him one more ‘happy birthday’ before you were leaning against the wall and waiting for your Uber.

Jesse looked back at the booth, wondering which boy had an arm around you this time, but you were gone. The space between Marcus and Jadon that you occupied had now disappeared. His eyes frantically searched the dance floor, but you were nowhere to be seen. It was only then that he started to regret shouting. He could lie and say he didn’t know what came over him, but he did know. He was jealous.

“She’s gone home.” Marcus spoke into his friend’s ear, patting him on the shoulder. It eased Jesse’s thoughts a little, but he still felt horrible. Jesse had gotten an Uber home not long after you, finding the house completely dark apart from your shared bedroom.

You were tucked into bed, Netflix in the background as you scrolled through your phone. You could see Jesse standing in the doorway, but didn’t acknowledge him as he walked in and sat on your side of the bed. His hand rested on the lump in the duvet that was your leg, waiting for you to say something. But you didn’t.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out, his voice soft with guilt. You didn’t even react, you just kept scrolling. “Really, I am. I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

“It’s done now, you need to go to bed. You have Hope tomorrow.” You replied, a lack of emotion in your voice. He knew you loved when Hope was round, the pair of you got on immensely. But you seemed bored now. Bored of listening to him. You had gotten out of bed and left the room, wandering downstairs to distract yourself with something else.

“It’s not done, babe.” Jesse spoke, following your footsteps as you turned into the kitchen. You stood at the counter, grabbing a coffee pod from your cupboard and beginning to make yourself a coffee.

“What else do you want to say, Jesse?” You argued calmly, Jesse almost jumping at the mention of his name. It was always silly pet names, never his name. He could see by the look on your face that you were over this, you were tired, grumpy, getting slightly hungover.

“I know I should never have shouted like that, in front of everyone,” he spluttered, alcohol still in his system. His words were not stringing together very well, which presented a bad case on his behalf, “the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you because of my own insecurities.”

Jesse wasn’t the type to show his insecurities to anyone, not even you at times, but you knew they were there. He was stuck in the mindset of sweeping them away, out of sight and out of mind. You wanted to badly to help him work through them like he did with yours, but he’d never disclose what was bothering him. You turned to look at him, the argument long forgotten now as you wanted this to be the chance he finally opens up.

“What insecurities, Jess?” You wondered, slowly approaching him. Your small hands held his cheeks, you could’ve sworn you’d seen a glint in his eyes.

He shook his head, the window now closed. The opportunity for the pair of you to sit down and talk about what bothered him, it was gone. You were back to pretending not to see his tensed jaw and white knuckles from squeezing his fist together. You sat at the island in defeat, your headache prominent now.

Jesse’s hand fell upon your shoulder, your eyes meeting once again. Your face contorted as a tear fell from your eye, Jesse now going into full on panic mode. He sat beside you, pulling you into his chest and holding you close. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest, you weren’t the only one who wished he could say how he felt.

“How are we ever going to move forward together if I don’t know how you’re feeling?” You asked honestly, holding his bare arm and pulling it close to you. There would always be this barricade stopping you from moving forward, his insecurities stopping you both from being able to talk to each other.

Jesse pulled away from you, his fingers fiddling with the expensive ring on your finger. He’d gifted it to you on your two-year anniversary, it was a beautiful night. “I just get jealous. I see your Instagram comments, and mine. I see the way random men look at you on the street, in the club, in the fucking supermarket. Even the boys are always complimenting you, being touchy with you. It might sound stupid and it might seem like it’s nothing, but it makes me fucking jealous.”

“You know I’d never do that to you,” you turned to Jesse, now clutching his hand tightly, “you’re the only one I want.”

“I know that, love. I have been fucked around before, girls always go after my money and my name. You don’t even shoo these boys away. It’s like you enjoy their attention.” Jesse accused, his tone still soft with you. He never raises his voice with you, and you never have with him.

This comment hurt you, your waterline burned with tears once again, hearing your boyfriend even fathom these ideas. “I don’t pay these boys any mind. You’re the only one I want attention from, I barely give the rest of them a second glance. And I’m sorry that your friends are touchy with me, I just give them lots of hugs and squeezes because they’re your friends, I want them to like me. I know how important they are to you. So they’re important to me.”

Even though Jesse thought you liked the attention, and wanted him for his name and wealth, even though it deeply pained you for him to think these things of you, you kept it cool. He was hurting, these were his insecurities. You looked up at him, giving him your infamous doe eyes, the ones he fell for in the first place.

“If I only wanted you for your wealth and name, I wouldn’t bother with Hope. I love that girl, she’s my best friend. I’d do anything for her,” Jesse smiled at your comment, his hand smoothing over your cheek, “I wouldn’t bother with your family, I wouldn’t call them up everyday asking how they are. I wouldn’t bother with your career, making sure your training kit is washed and you have appropriate lunch.” You emphasised the word appropriate, as Jesse would sometimes leave with just one of Hope’s lunchables, or just a yoghurt.

Jesse let out a laugh, both hands now holding your face close to his. “Thank you. I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“I won’t take your name when we get married, just to prove that I’m not in it for fame and wealth,” you admitted, a smile on your face, “I don’t know how you do it if I’m honest, you can’t even walk around the shop without someone approaching you. It’d get on my nerves.”

“Of course you’re gonna take my name,” Jesse cooed, kissing the bridge of your nose and looking down at you once more, “and you better get used to it, because I’m not giving you up.” He held you tight to him, the both of you still reeking of alcohol and the coffee long forgotten.

[itsnsfwalways]

Edge Of My Seat

warnings: female reader, mean dom! mgg, degradation (like.... really intense humiliation and ownership talk), slight daddy kink, exhibitionism, overstimulation, choking, squirting, deep subspace, branding (oops), fluffy aftercare (quite a bit of tears oops again)...... i think that’s everything. good luck.

prompt from the lovely @slutforthegubes / @spencersbed (literally one of my favs): i was thinking maybe a fic where you and him are out with the cast but you keep teasing him. when he almost cums his pants is when he decides enough is enough. he makes up an excuse for y’all to leave. the whole car ride home he edges you. once y’all get him he takes you over his knee and spanks you. after he deems fit, he overstimulates you and makes you beg for him to fuck you. when he does finally fuck he absolutely rails you. afterwards he gives you aftercare. he puts lotion on any marks, cleans you up, cuddles you and makes sure you are okay.

A/N: the fact that this has taken me a month to write..... i’m so sorry bre LMAO. i hope you enjoy and that it hits all the right spots !

See, it wasn’t necessarily your fault that you were riled up. Matthew didn’t touch you once this morning, besides a few kisses and your morning cuddles, of course, but no funny business whatsoever! You knew that you were meeting the crew for lunch later today, and made it your mission today to show him what he’s missing.

“Come on, baby, right here,” he whispers to you, touching your waist as if you were a flower ready to break while he guides you into the table, sitting next to you and immediately putting a hand on your thigh, unable to go a few minutes without any physical contact.

A whimper almost escapes your throat at the touch, so worked up over, what, not getting off before noon? God, who have you turned into? Shaking your head from side to side to clear your thoughts, you turn your attention over to Matthew, who’s already ordering you two drinks, his left hand moving in the air as he speaks to the waitress while his right thumb continues to rub small circles into your thigh. Your eyes zero in on his gorgeous hands, because, wow. His long, skillful fingers didn’t even have to be near you and you turned into a sex-deprived slut around him, only wanting one thing.

You turn your body more towards Matthew, sliding your hand under his shirt to rub his back while your other sneaks around the front, softly tracing over his stomach. He hums, glancing over to you before squeezing your thigh, thinking you just wanted some affection right now, but his eyes harden when he feels you trace his happy trail, just barely touching the skin but it’s enough to make him inhale sharply, covering it up with a cough.

“What are you doing?” Matthew lowly asks, his nails beginning to dig into your thigh, sending goosebumps down your arms in excitement. You shrug, slowly bringing a finger down to trace across his hip, going across his inner thigh to ghost across his growing bulge. You do your best to cover up the smirk crawling on your face but you catch Adam’s eye when you look away, blushing when he says loudly, “Hey! What kinda funny business are you two doing?”

“You wish, Rodriguez,” you laugh, placing your hand on top of Matthew’s bulge and looking back to him, raising your eyebrows to see if he’s okay with it. And of course he is, but you were breaking the rules, and you knew he was going to make you pay for it when you got back. Perfect.

Palming him slowly, you watch as he stutters his way through ordering for the both of you, knowing you’ll be able to see the indents from his fingernails for at least a day with how hard he’s gripping you. You hand your menu over to him with a completely innocent look on your face, and can feel him twitch underneath you when he takes it with clenched teeth, handing it over to the waitress with a tight, “thanks.” Sweeping a hand through his hair, he moves his eyes over to you, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Better stop now, little girl. You’re already in for a punishment for being such a greedy mess while I’m trying to enjoy lunch, don’t want to make it worse by continuing it, hmm?” When he pulls back, you bite your lip to attempt to contain your smile as you shake your head slowly back and forth, beginning to unzip his pants extremely slowly, not breaking eye contact with him. His bottom lip finds itself between his teeth as he stares down at you, not being able to smack your inner thigh because he was literally right across from his friends, and more importantly, his coworkers.

He lets go of your leg finally, grabbing his glass and gripping it with more force than necessary, his blood boiling at the sheer disobedience you were showing him. Deciding the best option for him would be to ignore you, he begins talking to AJ about something random, you honestly could care less, but decide two can play at this game. Tracing him through his underwear, his cock very distinguishable, you turn your attention to Paget, noticing Matthew’s eyes flit to yours when you begin speaking.

“Thank you for those flowers you sent us the other day, I meant to have him tell you,” gesturing to Matthew, squeezing him harshly through the fabric at the same time, “They were gorgeous, have them as our kitchen centerpiece now.” Paget laughs with you, taking a sip from her glass.

“Of course! I’m glad you like them. It feels like forever since I’ve seen your pretty face, your man likes to hide you quite a bit you know,” she points, squinting her eyes at Matthew, who just shrugs, looking briefly over at you. “You need to bring her out to hang with us more, I’m getting bored of just you.”

You laugh out loud at this, but catch yourself before you can really start digging your own grave. You watch him roll his eyes, fake laughing which sends Paget into another fit of giggles, while you just continue to pet him through his clothes, not stopping as the food is dropped off in front of you, Matthew sending the waitress a tight lipped smile as he shoves a bite of food in his mouth, giving him an excuse to groan deeply, the sound going straight to your clit. He refuses to make eye contact with you as he mumbles out, “This food is so good,” not even acknowledging your hand on top of him. Alright, fine.

Your hand finally wraps around his cock, pulling him out of his underwear and watching with a small grin as his lips part and he takes a slow breath out while staring down at his food. Feeling him twitch in your hand, you take it as a sign to begin slowly pumping up and down, taking your time to swipe your thumb across his tip everytime you reach the top. One hand snaps down to meet your thigh under the tablecloth, squeezing hard enough that his fingertips go white from the pressure, while the other moves down his face to hide his mouth, eyes darting across the table.

“Hey, Matthew, did you ever get that script I sent over your way? What did you think of it?” Paget asks, both yours and Matthew’s heads snapping her direction. You turn back to look at him, eyes twinkling with mischief as you put a fake innocent look on your face.

“Oh? I never heard about a script, what’s it about, babe?” You ask sweetly, biting your tongue between your teeth to keep from laughing at his reaction when you squeeze the base of him and he jumps up. His eyes flash dangerously towards you and you feel his nails dig into your thigh before he clears his throat to answer.

“Yeah, I-I did look it over, the Horse Girl one, yeah?” Matthew stutters, turning his head back to Paget and running a hand through his hair. She nods and you make eye contact with her, winking before moving your attention back to Matthew, who, unsurprisingly, refused to look back at you.

“I think it might be a good... a good fit,” he pauses in between his words, eyes slipping shut for only a moment, which fed your ego nicely. “Should be easy to just be an idol of someone, plus my only ‘big’ scene would be having sex with her, so,” he shrugs, picking up his glass to take a swig as your hand stops its movements. Paget’s eyes meet yours and you can tell she’s just as confused as you are by his statement.

“Alright, player, not in front of your lady,” Shemar laughs, gesturing to you and sending Matthew a questioning look. You turn your head back to him and begin pumping him again, much faster this time.

“Ouch,” you say plainly, swiping your thumb over his tip to collect some of the precum gathered there. Slowly bringing it back to your lips, you nonchalantly suck it into your mouth, not breaking eye contact as Matthew’s hips buck up into the air. His lips part, eyebrows raising as he grows even harder, watching your wet thumb slide out of your mouth seductively. His jaw tightens, a vein popping out in his neck when he brings his arm around you, pulling you closer next to him and making it look as if he’s kissing your head to apologize. His tight voice sends shivers down your spine when he whispers,

“If you don’t stop right fucking now, Y/N, I swear to god, I’m going to bruise you purple.”

Pulling away, he watches through clenched teeth as you return your hand to his cock, leaning up to ‘kiss his jaw’, but really muttering, “That a promise or a threat, sir?”, squeezing hard around his base. Your other hand moves to go underneath his shirt, scratching your nails down his back.

Matthew let’s out a harsh cough at that, licking his lips before pulling his bottom lip into his mouth, and biting, his hand slipping to your waist to pinch the skin there. Pulling your bottom lip into your mouth, you move your attention to your food as you begin to pump your hand faster, trying as hard as you can not to move your shoulder and give the two of you away.

Matthew grips onto your side harshly, squeezing the extra pudge on your body in his hands so roughly you know you’ll have bruises tomorrow. His spine was tingling, with pleasure, anger, frustration, and frankly, complete shock. He knew you were far from innocent, but exhibition was normally his thing.

Feeling him beginning to pulse in your hand, you start to speed up your hand once more before it’s completely ripped away from his lap, and you watch with a smirk as he stuffs himself back inside his pants, the veins in his shaking hands prominent from how tightly he’s had them in fists or grabbing you.

“Guys, I’m so sorry, there’s an emergency at home that Y/N and I have to go take care of, I hate to leave but we need to go, now,” Matthew stands up, taking your jacket off your seat and directing his last words towards you, nostrils flared in anger as he manages to keep a smile in his face. You try to suppress your grin as you stand up, waving goodbye to everyone quickly as Matthew grabs your wrist and pulls you away.

“Sorry guys, someone’s a little frustrated today,” you call out to them, your laugh being cut short by a sharp gasp when Matthew digs his nails into the inside of your wrist. He definitely shouldn’t be playing with you like this in public but, fuck, you always had to cross the line didn’t you. As soon as you’re out of everyone’s vision, he places a strong hand on the back of your neck, similarly to how you’d pick up a kitten by their scruff.

“You are so fucking lucky we are in public and with my goddamn friends right now or you would be bent over that table in two seconds. Who the fuck do you think you are, almost making me cum where you could be photographed and the whole world would know my girl is a fucking misbehaving cockslut. How embarrassing would that be for me?” You suck in a sharp breath of air at his words, barely registering you’ve made it to the car before he’s ushering you inside, shutting the door behind you and making his way to the drivers seat. Buckling your seatbelt slowly, you begin to rethink everything you did tonight, maybe you went a bit too far. Trying to gain any brownie points, you whisper out, “I’m sorry, sir,” but this just sets him off even more.

His fingers tighten against the wheel as he pulls out of the parking spot, refusing to make eye contact with you. The truth is, he was so fucking close and one move could have him cumming in his pants. But he decides to have a little fun with you instead, after all, you were still being a naughty little girl just asking to be punished. His hand reaches down to grip your inner thigh, fingers pressing into the skin harshly, light scratches coming from his nails digging into your skin. “I think you’re sorry you didn’t get to see me finish, but my good girl would never do something like that, you know who would though?” He pauses to smack your thigh once, quickly, before massaging the reddened area afterwards. You clear your throat before muttering out, a soft, “who?”

“A filthy whore would. But you’re not a filthy whore, are you? Are you, Y/N?” He pushes, smacking your inner thigh once more. You try to clench your legs together but Matthew pulls them apart quickly, gasping when his nimble fingers tug your thong down your legs, lifting your butt up to allow him to slide it off of you. He bunches the fabric up in his hands, and you can’t even start to answer his question before the lacy underwear is pushed into your mouth. He finally looks over at you, your wide eyes staring back at him while you force your hands to stay at your sides, feeling the way his fingers trace shapes along your thigh. “Since you don’t want to answer, I guess you are, which is such a shame. Here I was thinking I could let you cum, but if you’re just here for my pleasure,” he pauses to tut at your whine of protest, “I’ll just use you for me. Spread your legs.”

The harsh command parts your legs instantly, your pussy clenching around nothing but the cool breeze that hits it when your skirt shifts up your leg. You watch as Matthew slips his middle two fingers into his mouth, eyes focused on the road as he wets the digits. He pulls them out after a few seconds, leaving the trail of spit connecting his lips to his fingers as he leans forward to spit harshly onto them, bringing his dripping hand over the center console to land directly on your pussy. His fingers immediately move to collect your wetness before beginning to massage very slow circles around your clit, not allowing you to have him where you really want him.

“Listen closely, you fucking slut,” Matthew spits, glancing over for only a second to make sure you’re looking at him- as if you could be looking at anything else. “You’re not going to cum until I tell you to. I don’t want to feel you fluttering around me, no squeezing my digits, because that means that I would be pleasing you, correct?”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth with furrowed eyebrows, nodding slowly and attempting to say, “Y-yes, sir,” but your words come out garbled from the makeshift gag. Matthew’s middle finger trails down to trace your weeping hole, tapping lightly on the wetness surrounding his favorite place.

“I’m not here to please you, stupid girl. I’m not here for you to play with, I’m not here for you to toy with, and I’m definitely not here to give filthy whores what they want. Have I made myself clear, or does my dumb little cockslut need to learn her place?”

Chills run down your body at his words and you can’t help the whimper that comes out, having to tighten your hands in fists to stop yourself from clenching, knowing that he’d be able to feel it. Your head tilts to the side to look out the tinted window, hearing Matthew laugh at your reaction, before feeling his finger slip barely inside you, shallowly fucking you so it only just passes his first knuckle.

You sharply inhale through your nose when a second finger breeches you, the two fingers beginning to massage the inside of you, rubbing against that one spot that has your legs shaking. You hum loudly, letting Matthew know that you’re close, but he only speeds up his digits, moving his thumb to rub circles against your clit, the sudden pleasure causing you to clench tightly around him. You can’t even begin to think of what you did wrong before his fingers are out of you and inside his mouth, sucking them deep into his throat to clean them of you, ignoring the harsh exhale you let out. He finally turns to you, laughing at the redness in your cheeks before taking out the panties from your mouth, slipping them into his pocket before he yanks you towards him by your throat, releasing it to slide his still-damp fingers past your lips. You do your best to give his fingers the best treatment you could, sucking them deep into your mouth while tracing your tongue in between them, your stomach swirling with need.

He finally pulls his fingers out of your mouth and doesn’t give you anytime to catch your breath before your back is pinned to your seat and his hand is between your legs once more, slipping inside you easily and only curling faster into your g-spot when you moan loudly, your back arching against the arm on your chest, whining when his thumb returns to your clit, so on edge from this morning. He starts off by making small circles directly on your sensitive bud, ignoring your whining, before pulling his hand back and smacking your dripping sex, a loud moan filling the car.

“Tell me what you’re not going to do,” he demands, two fingers returning inside of you and immediately going to work while you try and think. Your mouth opens and closes as Matthew brings you closer and closer to the edge, watching you stay silent while your legs begin to shake. You gasp out, “Not going to c-cum, not going to,” clenching your fists as you interrupt your words with a sharp whine, unable to keep yourself from pulsing around him.

You almost shout ‘no!’ when he pulls his fingers out of you, but you aren’t even able to catch your breath before he’s going back and forth on your clit, watching you with his lips between his teeth as your breath stutters and your eyes roll into the back of your head, a pathetic, “please,” falling from your mouth. Matthew chuckles, moving his fingers to pinch your clit harshly.

“Who does this pretty pussy belong to? Remind me, darling.”

His even tone sends shivers down your spine as you pant out, “You, sir. It’s yours.” He hums, beginning his slow, circular movements once more. “That’s right. It’s mine, which means what? That I’m the one who controls when, and if, you ever come. I’m the one who decides what you receive, what you deserve, and when you deserve it. Do I need to repeat myself or does my dumb puppy understand?”

Your body thrashes in your seat as you nod quickly, trying to hold back as best you can. “Yours, yours, yours, yours, yours,” you repeat over and over, catching Matthew’s attention when he turns his head over to look at you. Pulling his fingers away from you, he places them in your mouth once more, his eyes moving back and forth between the road and your pretty face, tears already glistening in your eyes.

Removing them finally, he pats the side of your face twice, wipes his hand on his pant leg, and returns it back to the wheel, completely ignoring the panting girl in his passenger seat. He sniffs, trying to hide his grin as he asks, “You green, little love?” You nod immediately and repeat the color back to him, shifting in your seat, but stopping as soon as a hand clamps down on your thigh, pulling them apart. “You keep those there and shut the fuck up til we get home. I’ll deal with you then.”

It feels like forever til the car pulls into the driveway with a harsh stop, causing the seatbelt to dig into your neck slightly. Matthew scoffs when he notices you swallow and take a deep breath, mumbling out, “God, you’re pathetic, even my driving turns you on.” He runs a hand through his hair quickly, turning to you when you haven’t moved, nerves fizzing all throughout your body. “Out. Run along inside, little girl.” His voice dropped to a low, sturdy tone and sent a chill down your back, his eyes scarily calm as he stares you down. With shaky hands, you exit the car, rushing up the stone steps quickly while you mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to experience. The click of the door unlocking barely even registers when you here the familiar sound of the car door shutting, sending a rush of adrenaline through you. Toeing your shoes off at the door, you rush up the steps into the bedroom, almost feeling as if you’re being chased by a scary monster. Which, in a way, you kind of were.

You were just finishing hanging up your coat when Matthew walked inside the bedroom, leather shoes still on which you can’t help but lick your lips at. He just looked too good in them, mixed with the pale pink button up he put on this morning, his appearance alone was enough to send shivers down your spine. The expression he gives you let’s you know how much trouble you’re in, nothing but a simple smirk on his face while he methodically rolls up his sleeves. He motions you over with two fingers when he takes a seat on the chest at the end of your bed, which, to guests, looked fairly normal. You had come to learn, however, it served one purpose and one purpose only: the perfect place for him to sit while he spanked the living shit out of you. Hesitant steps brings you to stand in front of him, almost eye level with him when he takes your hips in his hands to force your body in between his spread legs. The silence in the air cuts through your body like a knife while he slowly unzips your skirt, watching as the fabric drops to the floor before glancing up at you. “Such a shame you couldn’t be good enough to keep your pretty little thong on until we got home,” he tuts, pulling the lacy black fabric from his front pocket to twirl it around in the air. Your face burns from the movement and he grins, hair wild around him making him look almost feral. Unhinged.

The underwear suddenly flies off of his finger and lands somewhere in the room, forcing your vision back up to his eyes. He reaches up with one hand to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, using it as an excuse to grip the back of your head with his fingers and yank you closer to him. A gasp is pulled from your lungs when Matthew tilts your head back, forcing your eyes to the ceiling so he can start biting down your neck. His teeth follow the artery down the side of your throat, pinching it just hard enough to make your pulse spike and he’s able to feel it on his tongue, the throbbing sensation going straight to his cock. He pulls away just for a second to murmur delicately in your ear, “Do you know how badly you’re about to get it, you filthy, fucking brat? I’m about to destroy you.” His words fall from his lips like honey, swirling around your head and leaving you basking in the gentle, sing-song voice he uses with only you that you don’t even notice when he pulls away until he forces your chin down to look at him. Matthew smiles gently, very gently, at the way your eyes remained unfocused for a second, because he was going to enjoy this, enjoy you. Chills pop up on your skin when your brain finally realizes what he just said to you, mixed with how nice he was being right now. This was the calm before the storm.

Your eyes meet his finally and he purses his lips at you minutely, squinting his eyes as he studies your face. You have half a mind to try and apologize but when your lips part, no words can fall out because you know, you know there is no going back. It’s almost like he knows what you’re thinking when he asks you softly, “You’ll use your colors when you need them, yes?” And waits for you to nod and mumble out, “yes, sir,” while looking down at his lips. He leans in closer to you, stopping an inch away from your parted mouth to ask, “And what are they, sweet girl? Why don’t you remind me?” You have to shut your eyes to breathe for a second and Matthew allows you to have this time for yourself right now, knowing how rough he’s about to be. “G-green, yellow, red, sir. I know em, I’ll use em,” you sigh out, leaning your forehead against his to ground yourself.

“Mmm, that’s a good girl. Why don’t you lay yourself over my lap for me then? Think you can manage?” He hums, the vibration from his throat mixed with his breathy whisper makes it impossible for you to not obey his every command, obediently turning your body to lay across his lap, head resting on his thigh while your feet hold you lightly on the floor for now. You know that they will be limp by the end of this, but you can at least try to have some dignity in the beginning. Matthew stops your thoughts quickly by starting to massage your ass, starting with the left cheek before moving onto the right, alternating between harsh, pointed grips underneath his fingers and soft, slow circles with his palm. “Normally, I would make you tell me everything you did wrong here, ask how many you think you deserve, that sound about right?” He questions, nails digging in to scratch the skin around your hips. You whimper in the back of your throat and squeeze your eyes shut, breathing out, “yes, sir,” to appease him. Matthew hums, moving his hands down to scratch at the back of your thighs, the sensitive skin causing you to suck in a harsh breath of air. You press your forehead deeper into his thigh at his next words, choking on a gasp.

“See, Y/N, I just don’t think you deserve that. You wanted to be a nasty whore in front of all of my friends, so why should I give you that common courtesy when you’re just a little slut?” He punctuates the end of his question with a harsh slap, the pinky ring he put on today biting into the skin of your ass. You barely have time to apologize before he slaps you again, this time on the other side. His other arm reaches for your neck, holding the back of it similarly to a scolded child, tightening his grip when he shouts, “Answer me!” and spanks you once more. The pain bites through you like you fell on ice and Matthew revels in the high pitched whine that rings throughout the room. “You shouldn’t, sir, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, just punish me,” you cry out, pressing wet kisses to his thigh.

Fuck, Matthew liked hearing that and tilted his head back, biting his lip, the rush of power that ran through him at your words had his hands shaking. He feels you choke out a cough around his hand and releases your neck from the tight grip he had it in. He sniffs, running a finger lightly down your spine. “I’d apologize for that but I just don’t really care,” and you can sense the grin on his face when he spanks you once more and has you moaning against his leg.

The feeling is beyond words, the stinging sensation not even pain at this point but pleasure, it feels like every spank is bringing you closer and closer. Matthew’s pant leg has to be soaked by now from your drooling mouth but you don’t even notice, only letting out rough gasps or ‘thank you, sir’. Suddenly, you feel a smack on your upper thigh, and, without even thinking, reach a hand down to cover your skin.

Before you could even blink, Matthew had grabbed your waist, placed you sitting on the wooden chest, and was walking towards the closet, not speaking a word to you. Grateful for the break, you brace yourself with your hands on the chest and try and get yourself back to Earth, wiping the drool off your chin with a grimace. You can feel your sticky, shaking thighs and ass burn from the direct contact but your face burns even brighter when you feel the wood below you become damp from your dripping center. You couldn’t remember how many spanks you had gotten at this point, your head was starting to get hazy and your body was on fire, needing Matthew’s touch. Your head snaps up when the clicks of Matthew’s shoes grow louder and your stomach drops when you see the metal handcuffs in his hands, no change in the calm manner he’s presenting. A rush of heat goes through you when you see the damp circle on his thigh from your mouthing at him. He squats down in front of you to bring the handcuffs up, gliding the cool metal down your face while watching every small change your facial muscles make. A chuckle comes from the back of his throat suddenly and you look up to say a small prayer before looking back at him, watching as he taps the cuff to your bottom lip. “You’re real brave for trying that one, Y/N. I mean,” he pauses to shake his head from side to side, laughing harder when he sees your thighs clench. “You just can’t help yourself, you stupid, stupid girl,” and then your face burns and your core burns and Matthew grabs your face in his hands and forces your eyes onto his.

“Ask me again.” He sounds desperate for it, need filling his quick plea and your mouth drops in his grip, wide doe eyes looking at him. He shakes his head, drawing his lips into his mouth for a moment before tilting his chin up at you. “Ask me to hit your pretty little face again.” He whispers this last part onto your lips, just barely allowing his bottom lip to skim yours before he pulls back to watch the way your eyes slip close and a soft ‘please’ escapes you without hesitation.

The control he had over you was a funny thing, it wasn’t that he had you on a leash, metaphorically, it was you that had him chained and owned. You owned him and he was thrilled to be able to show you just how much he appreciated that. His hand leaves your face slowly and you open your eyes immediately to watch him stand, his prominent bulge now inches from your face. “You can do better than that. Beg for me. Now.” His voice grows dark and he grits his teeth together, unimpressed with your whine. You swallow, looking up at him incredulously before managing to spit out, “Please, I’m so sorry, sir, please hit me. I want you to slap me til I beg you to stop, please, sir.” Matthew watches as your eyes grow glossy with unshed tears and your lungs have you panting for air before you see his hand pull back a ways. You close your eyes in anticipation, lips turning into a sedated smile while you wait for the slap.

The rush of adrenaline never comes and your eyebrows crease in confusion before you open your eyes to see Matthew smirking at you, arms folded in front of him, metal cuffs swinging back and forth in his hand. “You didn’t think I was going to give you what you wanted, did you? Cute performance, though, seems I’ve taught you well. A good little actress you are,” he pauses to laugh at your pouting face before unlocking the handcuffs, not even acknowledging the shocked gasp you release at his words. When you’re still sitting in front of him seconds later, he rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers at you, “Up, now. God, Y/N, do you ever listen?” He sounds annoyed with you, your mind tells you, and your body scrambles to appease him, jumping up so fast you almost fall. His hands catch your shoulders easily, it was second nature at this point, before he spun you to face away from him, forcing your arms parallel behind your back to click the cuffs into place on your wrists. With each touch, his fingers leave behind trails of fire on your skin, and you revel in the hidden gentleness behind each rough touch he allows you to have. Matthew gives your top arm a tug and hums contently when you stumble backwards into his chest, moving your body like a ragdoll back onto his lap, being careful to make sure your neck doesn’t slam down on his thigh. Your fingers grip your arms as you test your mobility, which was, not much to say the least. Matthew’s left hand resumes massaging your ass, and your face snaps back to him when you feel it. How did you not notice it when he first walked out?

Adorned on his middle three fingers were three large silver rings with his initials on them, reading out ‘MGG’ in a bold font. They were something he didn’t wear too often, but when he did, God. He liked to wear them so the letters were facing his palm, and allowed for each spank to mark his initials into you, to claim you as his. Matthew meets your eyes and grins, moving your head to face the floor slowly by taking your chin in his hand and turning it slowly, not breaking eye contact until you’re physically unable to keep looking at him. His hand goes down to tug at the chain between your wrists, lifting them up just enough to put a strain on your shoulders before letting them fall harshly onto your lower back. “Too bad you’re all chained up. Can’t even say no to me branding you, can you? Cuz you like it, you filthy girl,” he teases, finally smacking your ass twice in a row, a light one to warm you up to the metal first before actually allowing himself to let go. You squeeze your eyes closed and let out an almost laugh at the sensation, the feeling completely different. This was painful, and Matthew knew it, which was why he forced your eyes down. He didn’t want you to know when it was coming, to give you time to prepare. You deserved to be punished and he had no problem dishing that out.

A particularly harsh smack rips a moan from your throat and your legs start shaking, you had to be absolutely dripping on him at this point. “Please, sir, oh my god, please,” you cry out, unable to catch your breath when the next one comes, another moan falling from you. Matthew pauses when he feels you choke on a breath, instead going to trace over the quickly forming marks on your backside while he lets you catch your breath. “What are you begging for this time, Y/N, hm? I know my dirty slut isn’t asking to cum, not after being so disobedient today.” The feeling of him writing his initials over and over into your skin mixed with knowing that they will bruise by tomorrow causes you to squeeze your legs together to push off your orgasm, wanting to be good for him.

“I-I’m trying, Sir,” you gasp out, wrists tugging at the restraints. You rest your forehead harshly on his thigh, trying to focus on your breathing when you hear the slap before feeling it. Matthew starts again, hitting you quickly three times in a row, moving his hand to slip his thumb into your open, panting mouth. You suck his finger deep into your mouth, grateful for it, but Matthew has other plans, deciding to hook your cheek and turn your head to lay on his leg, your face dripping mascara when you make eye contact with him. The curls around his face stick to him with sweat, his eyes blazing and lips a dark cherry color, likely to his obsessive biting. His eyebrows raise in a condescending manner, eyes flickering to the wet patch you’ve made on both of his legs now before examining the handiwork he made on your ass. He rests his hand to thumb over the indents, clicking his tongue when you hiss from his actions. “Color?” He simply says, spinning the M ring around with his thumb. You whimper out, “Green,” trying unsuccessfully to stop your hips from bucking up.

He looks unimpressed at your actions, eyebrows raised when he lifts you up so your wet core is pressed to him, you legs straddling his thigh. You try to lift yourself up for a second but Matthew holds you down harshly, ignoring the small, “Sir,” you whisper out from how close you are. He ignores you and begins to slide your hips back and forth on his thigh, spreading your wetness around onto him. Your eyes are wide when he flexes his leg to meet your clit perfectly, whimpers falling from your mouths like prayers. “G-Gonna cum,” you cry out, holding your elbows behind you as your stomach tightens and your legs begin to shake. Matthew shakes his head in front of you, tsking lightly before reminding you, “That’s not how we ask,” and continuing to grip your hips and have you grind on his thigh, leaning forward to bite at your neck and darken some of the marks he left there before. You whine deep in your throat and open your mouth, tongue falling out when Matthew pulls back to look at you. “Please, can I cum, sir?” You whimper, hair sticking to your forehead when you tilt your head back to try and hold it off. Immediately, a hand is wrapped around your bared throat and tugs you closer to him, pulling and pushing you by your throat rather than your hips as his other hand moves to grip your ass in his hand, smacking it once. “No. You can’t,” he commands, stopping his movements and holding your hips down so you’re unable to move on your own. Matthew watches with a mock sympathetic expression at your creased eyebrows and open mouth, a sad cry leaving it which he can’t help but roll his eyes at.

Tucking his thumb into your mouth, he pulls your mouth open and leans forward slightly, the feeling of him spitting onto your tongue from behind your closed eyes is enough to make you drop your head forward onto his shoulder. Matthew doesn’t allow this to happen of course, instead lifting you up onto his other thigh, his grip on your hips not releasing when he begins forcing you to start grinding on him again. You hiss at the stimulation so quickly after you were that close but say nothing, he can tell in your wide eyes that you not only know you deserve this, but you want it. “Got to make my thighs even, yeah? Can’t have a mess on one leg and not the other.” Your eyes move to the thigh you just rode, bottom lip finding itself between your teeth at the large wet patch left behind, glistening in the light. Moving your head back to make eye contact with him, you whimper from the nonstop pace he had set, getting closer to the edge than you thought was possible. “S-Sir, I can’t,” you stress, a clinking sound ringing behind you as you try and move your hands, groaning when they don’t budge.

“Someone’s a little frustrated it looks like, too bad your hands are tied, bet they’d be tugging on my hair like a proper whore,” he finishes this with a harsh tug on your own, pulling you backwards so he can see all of you. Your eyes slip closed and you curse at yourself for being so bold earlier, what the fuck were you thinking. A harsh ripping sound forces your eyes back open and you see your shirt fall off your body, mouth dropped open as you watch his hand immediately move to slap your left tit, moving to pinch your nipple harshly. He looks up at you, a smug expression on his face when he shrugs, gathering the pieces in his hand to toss aside. “It was in the way, I don’t know why you were still wearing it.”

It adds a new element, the fact that you were stark naked in front of him and he was fully clothed, wearing a button up and those tight black pants that squeeze his thighs so well. You buck your hips up in his hand when you start thinking deeper at the power that he just exuded effortlessly, how he didn’t even need to try and you gave yourself to him. “Sir,” you whine out, a tear slipping from your eye in frustration when you feel your toes curling. He gathers your face in one hand with a soft smile, wiping the tear with his thumb before slipping it into your mouth, knowing your body better than you do as the action calms you more than you thought was possible. He leans forward to ghost over your cheekbone lightly with his lips, murmuring, “I don’t really care that you want to cum, darling, it’s not about you, is it?” into your temple, before pulling back. You shake your head, mewling when he slips his thumb out of your mouth and smacks you harshly against the face, lifting your legs up at the exact moment that would have sent you over the edge.

“Fuck,” you cry out, gasping at the slap and trying to stop your hips from bucking up in his grasp. Pulling your lips back into a smile, you blow the hair out of your face before looking up at him. Alright, so you weren’t going to come for a while, if at all, tonight. That also means that he’s going to be spending a lot of attention bringing you to that edge. Good enough. You watch as Matthew tries to figure out what has you smiling, fingers gripping your hips harsher to make you bite your lip to suppress a whimper. Standing up slowly, he moves you to kneel in front of him, forcing your head down with his hand on the back of your neck. He pets your head for a second, running his fingers through your hair gently.

“What’s got you so smiley, puppy?” The nickname he spits out at you sends a rush to your core and you whine at the way it makes you feel, like you’re so small and he’s so big, and god, is this a lot. “T-thought about your attention on me, Sir. Like it,” you moan out, pulling on your restraints and huffing when they don’t move. Matthew’s fingers tighten in your hair, and you feel the cool leather of his shoe sliding up your thigh. Your lips part as you realize where this is going and you can’t lie at how much you want it.

“Yeah, I got a bit of an attention whore as a pet, didn’t I? A tragedy, really, could’ve had you coming three times by now, but, you wanted to be a brat, so my hands are tied,” he comments, talking about you as if you were just a plaything to him. Your core throbbed when you felt the toe of his boot run along it, sliding underneath you so you rested directly on top of it. Matthew’s hand in your hair kept your head facing the floor as he continued. “It’s like you’re just too dumb to do anything unless I tell you exactly how to, you’re just a needy little thing who wants to cum, that’s all you are.” His degrading words mixed with the thrill of riding his fucking shoe rips a sob from your chest, a mess of “please, sir” and “yes” coming from you. He lifts your head up to get a look at your eyes before continuing on. “I’ll make this real easy for you, okay? Yes? Use your words,” He slips his thumb into your mouth and mocks you when you try and speak while your lips wrap around him, laughing when you whine and buck against his boot. He tilts your head up as says slowly, “You’re going to stand up, let me undo the cuffs, and get onto the bed. Then, I’m going to join you and you aren’t going to touch me once, okay? Got to train you somehow.”

Your cheeks burn at his last statement, whispering out, ‘fuck’, before shakily standing up, with his help of course, and turn around silently to let him undo the restraints. You hear them clink before you’re released, Matthew’s hands massaging each wrist for a few seconds before returning them to your side. You roll your shoulders once before moving onto the bed without another word, staring up at the ceiling as Matthew disappears back into the closet. Finally resting your head back onto the pillows, you attempt to shake out the tremors in your legs, whimpering at the cool air on your wetness. Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, matching the throbbing in your core and you can’t help but whine in desperation.

Matthew returns shortly after, wearing just his briefs and his button up, shoes and pants left behind. You feel him place something next to your feet on the bed but before your head can turn his fingers are on your chin, making it impossible for you to move. He meets your parted lips with a quick kiss, smiling when he pulls away to rub your cheek with his hand.

Pulling his hand back, he slaps you across the face once, relishing in the harsh gasp he rips from you as your head turns to the side. His fingers move back to squish your cheeks together, his lips pursed as he studies your frame. Your voice shakes when you whimper out a pathetic, “please,” but Matthew just scoffs.

“Please,” he mocks, your spine burning white hot from the humiliation. “Didn’t bring you up here to beg, especially that badly, Y/N, I’m disappointed.”

You can’t help the whimper that escapes as he tuts quietly to himself, shaking his head from side to side. His index finger moves from its place on your cheek to slip slowly between your lips, a chill spreading through Matthew as he feels your breath shake on his hand. He pulls it out suddenly, not giving you time to process before he spits down your throat, your eyes rolling back into your head on instinct.

“Getting too mouthy for my liking. Can you learn your place and shut the fuck up, little girl?” He scolds, angry eyes burning into yours while keeping his tone even. You nod automatically, licking your lips once before pressing them together, catching Matthew’s eyes drifting to watch you. He moves his fingers to trail lightly down your neck, brushing over your collarbone before going further down your body. You hear him chuckle to himself when you place your hands under your back, not trusting yourself enough to keep your hands away from him. His eyes look back to yours for a second before he grabs your nipple between his thumb and first two fingers, trailing the hard nub around them. His touch is gentler than you expected, your eyebrows pinched together when he moves to your other nipple, the fact that he was just playing with them right now was not like him.

“Not enough for you, hmm?” Matthew quips, bringing his fingers to travel down over your stomach, your breath hitching when he caresses both of his thumbs over your pelvis, pressing down just enough for you to let out a whimper, the tight knot in your stomach begging to be released.

“I think,” Matthew starts, completely pulling away from you to grab one of the items he put next to you. You debate turning your head to see but you know that the outcome would probably not be in your favor. Matthew’s hands come back into your eyesight and your mouth drops a little at what’s in his hands, a flogger with many leather strips hanging from the handle.

“Mm, you excited, puppy? You shouldn’t be, because what you showed me today is that my bitch thinks she’s allowed to use me like that. I think, you might need a little reminder of who the fuck I am. Because you know your place, don’t you, Y/N? Speak up, now.”

The grin on his face terrifies you in the best way, and your voice cracks when you whisper out, “Yes, sir.” He hums, flexing his fingers before wrapping them around the handle and beginning to run his other hand through the ends. “Tell me then,” he pauses for a while, turning his head back to lean down and whisper in your ear, “Who do you belong to?”

“You, sir, I’m yours, I belong to you, please, please, pl-,” your whimper is cut short by a swift hit across your chest, back arching off the bed at the sensation. He managed to hit you directly on the nipple with one of the strips, feeling harsh pinpricks of pain course through your body and leaving you gasping for air.

“That’s right,” he condescendingly praises, lightly dragging the flogger over your body. “I think you might’ve forgotten that I fucking own you. You are MINE,” your right tit this time. “My property.” Left. “My whore to fuck as I please.” Right. “And my fucking slut to use.” Two fingers slip deep past your lips for only a second before he’s removing the digits, a loud moan leaving you when he begins slapping your tits with his bare hands, feeling the slight sting of his rings still on.

“Fuck, Sir, please, I know, I know, please, I’ll be such a good slut for you, please, just fuck me,” you cry out, legs shaking from the pain flooding your system, your brain turning it right into pleasure. Matthew laughs at this, a genuine belly laugh, dropping the flogger on the ground next to you. His hand grabs you by the throat, pulling you slightly upwards so you’re forced off the bed a ways.

“Good luck,” he whispers, releasing you before finally beginning to unbutton his shirt, taking his time taking his eyes up and down your naked body, small red marks already appearing from how hard he’s grabbing you. Dropping the shirt behind him, he moves to sit between your legs, forcing your hips to come off the bed and into his lap, a small, “thank you, sir” coming from you. He smirks at you, taking his thumb into his mouth to suck it past his lips, his cheekbones protruding and your mouth watering at how fucking hot he looks, watching closely when he pops it from his mouth and he grins at you, leaning forward to spit directly on your pussy. “I wouldn’t be thanking me just yet, pretty thing.”

A gasp escapes you when he brings his thumb down to your throbbing clit, the slightest touch making your hips jump but you force them down, closer to him. He begins to trace small circles on you, feeling you start to flutter already from the gentlest touch. “Close already, are we?” You whimper out, nodding quickly. “‘S a shame you had to be a bad girl then.” You hold back a groan at his words, clenching tighter to try and hold off your orgasm.

Feeling this, Matthew smacks your inner thigh, hard, and slides a finger into you, shaking his head back and forth when he sees your legs start to shake. “Don’t get all coy on me now, go ahead and relax. Wanna feel how aching you are for me without having to worry if I’ll be able to take my finger out of your greedy pussy.” He finishes his sentence by slipping another finger inside and beginning to curl his fingers towards himself, finding that soft spot inside of you instantly. Your neck cranes backwards while your lungs beg for air, unable to breathe at this point, let alone hold off your impending orgasm. Matthew senses this, and withdraws his fingers at the last second, smirking at the loud whine you release.

“Tell you what,” he starts, pausing to spit roughly on your clit, glancing back up at you when you cry out in frustration. “If you can put that dirty mouth to good use and beg for me, I’ll fuck you. Use those crocodile tears and give me a good performance.”

You gasp out, shaking your head from side to side as your hips start bucking, which Matthew puts a stop to immediately. “Not... not a performance, please, sir, please please please please please fuck me, I’ve been so-so good and haven’t touched once! I’m so sorry, please just fuck me, I’ve learned my lesson, please.” You’re crying by the end, your body on fire and the bubble in your stomach feels like it’s ready to burst, hands shaking from the adrenaline.

“Again.” Is all you hear from Matthew, and you lift your head up and whine, staring up at him with eyes filled with tears, not breaking eye contact as he pushes his fingers inside of you once more, finding your special spot with ease and pressing. Your eyebrows knit together as you moan, cutting yourself off to rush out, “Sir, please, use me, please just get yourself off, fuck me like a toy for your pleasure, please just fuck me. Need you to hurt me, Daddy.” The title you give him spurs him on further and you sigh when you feel him get up and slide his briefs down, your head lolling to the side in exhaustion and, to be fair, preparation for what’s to come.

“Hey,” Matthew snaps, pulling your spaced-out eyes back to see him in between your legs once more, watching as he leans forward to massage his tip against your wetness, coating himself in seconds. “Eyes on me. I’m giving you my cock and you can’t even say anything to me? Don’t care where you are, I’ve trained you better.”

You can feel the degradation as faraway as you were and you blink up at him before nodding quickly, thanking him as if your life depended on it. He leans forward, one arm going to lift up your back, his free hand guiding himself slowly inside of you, simultaneously moaning with you as he sinks deep into your pulsing walls.

Without giving you a moment to think, he sets up a brutal pace, his hips snapping forward and hitting your swollen clit with each thrust, repeated moans and screams falling from your lips as you try and keep breathing from how good he’s fucking you. You can feel his hard, hard cock inside of you, and you know that if you were to look you would be able to see him poking through your skin slightly.

As if he was reading your mind, Matthew pushes down on your stomach and a scream rips from your throat, the pressure from both sides making it impossible to think anymore. “Y’fuckin like that, nasty girl, can see me fucking your tight cunt through your stomach, yeah? Yeah?” He presses down harder until you scream out, “Yes!” thrashing on the bed underneath him. He groans, removing his hand to hold onto the headboard in front of you, keeping his fast, deep pace as he stares down at you.

“Hardest I’ve been in my fucking life, I swear, got me fucking whipped for this cunt, but I know you’re just as bad for my cock, huh, baby? Gonna feel me for days.” He moves his arm out from underneath you to cup one of your cheeks, watching with a smile as you nuzzle into it out of habit. He leans down to kiss you sweetly, too sweetly for how he’s fucking you, his lips meeting yours and just sitting there for so long, just giving you his touch before he’s peppering small kisses on your lips, before pulling away and humming, and you hear the slap before you feel it against your cheek.

He’s fucking cruel, watching with a grin as your head rolls back and you clench so tight you almost push him out, but he slides back inside easily and resumes his borderline torture on you. His fingers make their way over to pinch your cheeks together, your tongue falling out automatically which Matthew hums at, spitting slowly into your waiting mouth. Some of it falls down your chin, but Matthew catches it with his thumb, sliding it right back into your mouth. You whimper around him as your legs begin to shake again, unsure of how long you’ll be able to hold off.

“S-So close, Sir,” you gasp out, cutting yourself off with a loud moan when his hand moves from your face to push your legs over his shoulders, fucking harder into you than he had ever tonight, reaching spots so far inside of you that you weren’t even sure existed.

Breathing felt like a chore at this point, you didn’t know this level of pleasure existed, as if you were completely filled and satisfied, but also on fire and so close from the biggest prize of your life. You try and express this in a whine, and hearing Matthew tut, as well as his hips stutter once, you know what’s coming next.

His hands wrap around your throat and begins to use it as a handle to pull you on and off his cock, choked moans and gasps being ripped out of your vocal chords. Matthew groans deeply, pulling his left hand away to smack you across the face once, throwing your head to the side as your back arches off the bed, the new angle allowing him to slip even deeper inside of you.

“Stay there, stay right fucking there. God, my cockslut doing so well for me, letting her owner fuck her so hard, so deeply.” His left hand grips your hip, using it as leverage as he begins to pull on your neck harder, speeding up the pace. A mix between a gasp and a whine falls from you, chest rising and falling quickly as you try and comprehend how fucking good this feels.

“G-gonna cum,” you cry out, whining when you see Matthew shake his head side to side, causing you to squeeze tighter around him to try and hold off. Matthew chokes on his moan and his hands fall from your body, hips stilling inside as he sits up more. While you’re grateful for the opportunity to breathe again, it’s short lived when Matthew smacks you across both cheeks, not even giving you a second before backhanding you on both sides. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as your body shakes underneath him, pussy fluttering around him as you try not to cum.

“Oh, you fucking liked that didn’t you, you dirty slut. Think I should take a picture of you like this to show to the world, let everyone know how filthy my girl is. What would they think, seeing you so close with my handprints across your face, saw how rough you like it.” His head’s tilted back, lips dark red and bruised from how hard you were biting them, chin glistening from your wetness, looking like a devil in an angel’s body. His tongue peeks out to swipe along his teeth, chest heaving but he stares down at you with a grin on his face, watching your body thrash, bark arching and falling repeatedly while your hands clench into fists as you try and hold off your orgasm.

“Please, please, please!” You beg, openly crying and squeezing the absolute life out of Matthew. Hearing you sob underneath him, he finally takes mercy on you, bringing a hand down to rub fast circles on your clit, the other tightening around your throat, squeezing as hard as he knew you could take.

“Give it to me, come on, let go for me. Need it so bad, now, Y/N,” he moans, looking into your open eyes before finally spitting in your open mouth, the bubble building up inside of you finally shattering and you scream, your body convulsing as you cum, and squirt all over the sheets, Matthew, and yourself, feeling as if your orgasm would never end.

It was like your pussy got stuck by lightning, you didn’t know this kind of pleasure was possible, it was like every nerve in your body was exploding, every atom being stimulated by Matthew, and you knew your voice was going to be sore tomorrow but you couldn’t stop moaning, the feeling otherworldly. You vaguely felt him release your throat, gasping as you tried to catch your breath, feeling as if your entire body had a vibrator held to it, the aftershocks hitting you again and again as you tighten and release Matthew’s cock again and again.

Matthew swore he saw God that day, watching your head roll back into the mattress and cum so hard he had to hold you down to keep you still, fucking you through his own as he came deep inside you, unable to wait after being drenched with your squirt. Your moans sounded like a choir in his ears, spurring him on to make sure to get every last bit of your orgasm out of you, groaning lowly in his throat before resting his forehead in the crook of your shoulder, continuing to slowly thrust in and out of you. His arms tighten around you immediately when he feels how much your body is shaking, lifting his head up to get a look at your eyes.

“Oh precious baby,” he murmurs, smoothing out your hair around your face. Your eyes were looking right through him, not even realizing he was there as you basked in the warm cloud you were currently on. He leaves a few kisses on your temple before trying to pull out of you, a loud whine stopping him quickly. His thumbs brush away the tears that had already started falling, hearing you moan, “No, no, no, no, no.” Slipping his thumb in your mouth, he rushes out,

“Okay, okay, not going anywhere sweet girl. Mm, you wanna tell me your color, honey love? You feeling good?” The hand in your mouth moves up and down as you nod slowly, eyes drifting back to the ceiling. “You did so well for me, pumpkin, such a good girl. Do you wanna go take a nice, warm bath? Make you feel so much better, how does that sound? Good?” You blink slowly up at him, squeezing them shut when they start to burn with tears. Matthew wipes them away faster than they can fall, biting his bottom lip nervously. You had never been this far under before, he was sure, and to have you so unresponsive made him a little scared. He just wanted to take care of you.

“Babygirl,” he breathes, pulling his thumb from your mouth to wrap around the back of your head and pull you closer to him, head tucked into the crook of his neck. Your bare chest is pressed against his and warmth spreads over your body, happy to be close to your dom. You hum contently and light suck on the skin your lips touch, holding it gently between your teeth, not even processing the groan Matthew lets out. He makes sure that he’s feeling you breathing under him, mind moving a million miles an hour trying to think of what he should give you first. Nuzzling your head out of his neck, he presses his lips to yours, lightly sucking on each of your lips to distract you while he pulls out.

“I know, I know, I know, honey, here, I’m still with you little one,” he tries to console you when you whine into his mouth, his fingers moving to replace his now softened cock. His hand moves to cup your dripping sex and he gently pushes a finger inside, but by the look on your face he knows you felt empty. “You can warm my cock later, but I’m gonna sit you up right now, my love,” he whispers, sliding his finger out of your quivering heat.

Pulling away slightly to make you chase his lips, he uses this as an opportunity to gently lift you up and sit in his lap, arms deadweight over his shoulders and your forehead pressed to his sternum. He wraps one arm across your entire back, holding you tightly towards him while the other hand strokes your back up and down. He continues to murmur, “good girl,” and humming in the back of his throat, knowing the deep vibrations from his vocal chords is soothing to you. The change in position allows him see all the marks he’s left down your back, nail scratches, small angry red marks left by gripping you a bit too tightly. He also gets a look at the top of your ass, handprints and small ‘MGG’ clearly visible all over. He winces while looking at that, maybe he went a bit wild on that one. He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he feels you move your lips against his chest, whispering something too quiet for him to pick up on.

“What was that, baby?” He asks, pitch raised as if talking to a young child. You repeat what you said, his heart clenching at your small voice asking him, “Bathtime?” Stroking your hair softly, he holds you to his chest, lungs releasing all the air inside of him. He pinches his eyes shut and his voice cracks when he coos,

“Yeah, sweetheart, we can go take a bath now, do anything you want. Oh, little one,” he murmurs, feeling your tears fall onto his chest. He takes your face in his hands, studying your expression carefully. Your mouth parts slightly and he takes it as a sign to place his thumb back inside your mouth, watching you hum in appreciation. Lifting you up carefully, he brings you over to the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub with you in his lap while the water begins to run.

A small whine catches his attention from where he was pouring epsom salts into the bath, his head snapping to yours quickly. Your big y/e/c eyes stare up at him, still very hazy but recognizing where you are now. Releasing his thumb from your mouth, you begin to mumble, “Love you, love you, love you, love you,” over and over again, reaching your arms over his shoulders to hug him tightly. Feeling his arms wrap around your back, you breathe in his scent, senses overwhelmed with HIM. His lips kiss the side of your head as he sighs into your ear, squeezing you closer.

“Love you so so much, angel. Oh, you have no idea how loved you are, pretty thing.” You hum quietly, shaking your head back and forth. “Oh, you do know then?” His fingers run up your side lightly and you giggle, trying to lift yourself away from his skillful fingers. Pulling away to look up at him, you lose your words for a second when you see the bright smile on his face, eyes looking at you with nothing but appreciation, love, and a bit of worry still in them.

“Tickles, Daddy” you say around his thumb, having placed it back in your mouth already, as your eyebrows crease slightly because you think it makes you look intimidating. He hums, turning the water off behind him before his attention returns to you. A small chuckle leaves his lips when he sees your expression, watching with a lovesick smile when your lips turn up and you place a small kiss on the tip of his thumb. He swipes the digit across your lower lip, leaning forward to give you a kiss, sighing deeply into it.

“Why don’t I put you in the tub and you get all cozy while I go get some things for you? Oh, baby, don’t cry, only for one minute, okay? Daddy’s good girl can do it, so brave,” He consoles you, not liking the way a pout rested on your lips.

“Promise?” you ask pathetically, voice cracking while you let him slide you into the warm water, his arms getting wet when you hold onto him for longer than needed.

He can feel his heart breaking at your bambi eyes, overwhelmed with the amount of care he needed to give you right now. “Be back so quickly you won’t even notice, okay?” When you huff out all your air, he takes it as a sign to slip away and quickly grab everything he needs to, leaving you alone in the tub.

You bite your lip, reminding yourself that you were Daddy’s good girl, she could last a few minutes without him. Whining quietly to yourself, you rest your head on the side of the tub, feeling the effects of the last few hours catch up with you. While you were doing this, Matthew was running around the house like a mad man. He first grabbed the biggest glass of water he could find, some dark chocolate and peanut butter so he could get some protein in you, and finally grabbing the robes he threw in the dryer when he first got home. It was a habit of his at this point, he always wanted you to be warm, cozy, and safe.

You hear the record player turn on in the bedroom and perk up, the soft sounds of jazz slowly filling the space when Matthew walks through the door, arms full of different items that he places on the table next to the tub. He smiles down at you, taking your outstretched hands in his as he slides in behind you, pulling you closer to him by wrapping an arm around your waist. Soft kisses are pressed behind your ear as he sighs deeply, finally able to relax and completely focus on taking care of his baby.

“Look at you, my perfect girl, did so well for me. I got some lavender oil, you wanna put a few drops in the tub?” he asks you gently, holding the glass bottle in front of you. His other arm caress up and down your side, making it difficult for you to focus on anything else. “Y/N,” he draws out, his soft voice getting you to turn your head and look at him. “Lavender, yes or no?”

You nod slowly then, taking the dropper from the bottle and placing four drops into the tub, feeling so much praise when Matthew continues to tell you how good you are. A happy squeal comes from you when you curl back into his chest, feeling his laughter reverberate off of you. His hand reaches up to hold your head against him, the two of you sighing as you sat in your own little perfect world, nothing but love and calmness filling the space.

Hearing you sniffle, it breaks the silence you were surrounded in, sending a hot flash down his spine, Matthew’s arms pulling you back to look at him, your teary eyes making his fill with worry. Before he has the chance to speak, you choke out the most pitiful, “Bad girl?” His hands take your face in them immediately, bringing you close to kiss your forehead and shake his head back and forth. “No, baby, you’re my best girl, so good for me, so so good for me. My Y/N was just a little naughty today, yeah? But Daddy’s not mad, pretty. Got such a good girl for me.” When you shake your head back and forth in his hands, his eyebrows furrow, pulling away to look at you eye to eye, wincing when he sees how goddamn faraway you were. “Do you want to tell Daddy what got you so worked up? Maybe let me know your color, little one?”

You let out a wet sob, looking at his kind eyes staring at you with so much love that it physically hurts. “I just wanted you to touch me, b-but you would only let me kiss you! N-No lovin on me, but y-you are so good to me and I was being selfish,” you finally end, suckling your bottom lip before Matthew’s thumb replaces it, his other hand moving to cup the nape of your neck. His lips softly kiss your swollen eyelids, then your nose, then your lips, removing his thumb for a moment to pour his love into you.

“Not selfish, sweet pea, just gotta tell me you want me. I know I’ve got an insatiable puppy, who I love very much, yeah?” He smiles sweetly at you, pushing your hair back behind your ears to tsk, seeing another tear roll down. “I think you’re also just a little overwhelmed, should’ve let you eat more before I went so rough on you.” You can barely think of what he’s saying with the way he’s holding you and how kind his tone is, like you were a little child he needed to care for.

A cool glass pressed to your lips pulls you out of it, looking up at him while you drink it slowly, not having to lift a finger as he tilts his hand up for you. His tongue pokes out to wet his lips, watching as you drink almost the whole glass, turning your head away when your done. He drinks the last few sips in one big gulp, placing it to the side before unwrapping the chocolate bar. His thumb presses against your lip as you bite into the piece he gave you, the bitter flavor having you crinkle your nose in response. Matthew laughs at you, placing the other half in his mouth.

“I know, sugarplum, not too sweet, but so good for you. Got some good antioxidants in there.” He continues to hand feed you half of the bar, eating the other half for himself after you bite each square. It takes more coaxing for the peanut butter, but he knows that you trust him with your entire being right now and you’ll listen to anything he says. It’s almost unreal the minimal amount of effort he has to put in for you to do what he says, something that takes some getting used to, but, god, does he relish in it.

You feel his hands start to rub soap up and down your body, taking his time near your shoulders, neck, and back to give you gentle massages. A long sigh fills the air as you lie there, feeling so well-cared for by him. A cup of water rinses off the suds from your shoulders, but your eyes have slipped shut a long time ago. Matthew takes his time washing your hair next, scratching your scalp and making sure to not tug on any knots, you can worry about those later. Right now was just to take care of you.

He feels you shift in his lap while he’s rinsing out the conditioner, his eyes snapping to watch yours open, still very far-away. Leaning his head down, he gives you a kiss on the nose, feeling so full of love when you giggle at his actions.

“Love you, Daddy,” you whisper, feeling like any louder would ruin the moment. He places the cup on the table, turning you around to face his chest as he hugs you, kissing the top of your head. Your eyes fill with tears out of nowhere and you tighten your arms around him, making it difficult for him to pull you away to look at your face. His hands hold your cheeks while his eyes search yours back and forth quickly.

“Hey,” he gently starts, a small smile on his face while he wipes your tears. “I love you so much, little love. So so much. You’re quite far away still, aren’t you? Still feeling green?” His body can finally relax when you repeat the color back to him, tension dropping from his shoulders from the verbal confirmation. “Good girl, so good,” he hums, the praise sending flutters to your stomach. “Thank you for telling me your color, angel. Do you want to get out and Daddy can put some lotion on you? Got some ouchies we need to take care of.”

After receiving your nod, Matthew unplugs the drain and stands you up, helping you out of the tub and immediately into a robe. The two of you walk back into the bedroom, his arm around your waist while you lean on him. He had changed the sheets when you were in the bath, not wanting you to have to lie on the soaked fabric. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you allow him to braid your hair quickly, knowing that you hated lying on the bed with wet hair splayed everywhere. You hear the elastic wrap around the ends and then his arms are around you, head tucked into your neck to kiss you softly.

“You warm enough for me to do your butt, honey?” He whispers, grinning when you nod happily. This was one of your favorite parts of aftercare. He gently slips you out of the robe, letting you get comfortable on your stomach before he sits crosslegged next to you, gently ghosting his hand down your spine.

“I’m using special lotion today, do you want aloe instead?” Special lotion was what you always called the cream Matthew put on your marks, something your faraway self once muttered when he was taking care of you. With no surprise, you agree with him, and he uncaps the pot, beginning to massage the cool cream on your ass. His heart clenches when you hiss at the ring marks, immediately spitting out, “I know, I know, shh, it’s okay.” His thumb traces over them, cock growing when he feels how indented his name was into you. He snaps out of it when he feels you shift under his hand, continuing to apply the lotion on your ass, and a thin layer across the scratches on your sides and back.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N,” Matthew breathes, caressing your back while you turn your face to look at him. “Just, such an angel for me. So so lucky to have my good girl.” Your cheeks turn pink and you try to hide your face in the pillow, not making it far before his hands turn your body over to look up at him. Crawling over your body, he rests himself on his forearms, dipping his neck down to plant soft kisses on your lips. After a minute, he pulls away to lift up the covers and shuffle the two of you under them, immediately wrapping his arms around you to tuck your head into his chest. This was his form of aftercare just as much as yours, he needed to remind himself that you were there and his and that you loved him.

“No more cryin’, honey, don’t like to see those tears on my girl, okay?”

His arms hold your naked body to his chest tightly, like if he let you go the world would end. Feeling your soft sighs hit him every few seconds was enough to make his eyelids begin to droop, and hearing how even your breathing has gotten, he figured you had already fallen asleep, and finally allowed himself to breathe. You were safe, loved, and cared for. He’d just have to get some food in you when you two woke up from the nap.

THREE HOURS LATER

Your eyes slowly flutter open, the bright golden sunlight hitting them from between the gap in the curtains. Turning your body to face Matthew’s once more, you exhale slowly, trying to get out of the sleep haze you were in. Or maybe you were still under.

Perhaps your thinking was enough to wake Matthew, the dom side of him always just knowing when you were up. He groans lowly, tightening his arms around you to pull you tighter into his chest, feeling him kiss the top of your head a few times.

“Still floaty, baby?” He softly asks, holding the back of your neck in his hand, the feeling so deeply comforting to the both of you. You shrug, muttering out, “dunno,” before looking up at him finally, seeing his tired eyes already crinkled from the wide smile on his face. You lean up to press a soft kiss on his lips, just holding them there and allowing Matthew to suck softly on your bottom lip, shushing the small whimper that comes out of you.

“Love you, baby,” he whispers, smiling softly when you repeat it back to him. “You know you’re my good, perfect girl, yeah? Gave me a good fright seeing you so sad over me,” he frowns, tracing your cheek with his thumb. You nod slowly, whispering “good girl,” to yourself, smiling when Matthew tugs you closer to him, thumb moving down to play with your bottom lip.

“Feel like I should also let you know I changed into a pair of clean shoes when I got home, don’t want my girl to actually be dirty,” and you whine into his chest, blushing at his loud chuckle.

“Who knew I had a squirter as my little love? Why’d you hide that from me?” Matthew fake pouts, and you blush, trying to hide your face in your hands, but Matthew’s quick to pull them away by your wrists. Trailing a hand slowly down your face, he turns your jaw to examine the bruises on your neck, small, but distinct fingerprints outlined on your otherwise unblemished skin. He tuts, to himself mostly, placing his fingers over the purple marks and lightly pressing down, reveling in the gasp you release.

“Such a shame your pretty pussy’s much too sore to take me, because I’m doing that again and again and again to you, very soon, my dear.”

A/N: so...... yeah. lol. i’m sorry ? idk what to say after this. that was a lot. hope you liked it !!! i’m ASS at taking requests (seeing as this took over a month) but i’m going to see if i can get into blurbs or little drabbles or whatever they’re called hehe so send in requests !! (i’ll have to dm you for clarification for my piece of mind if it’s a long piece, so expect that haha)

- lana xx

[wrenhyperfixates]

We Make a Pretty Good Team

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: It’s game night at the Avengers Tower, and you find the perfect partner in Loki. Warnings: ‘tis but fluff A/N: Just another self-indulgent, fluffy story. Hope you enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02​​ @frostedgiant​​ @lunarmoon8​​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​​ @lokistan​​ @lowkeyorlokificrecs​​ @gaitwae​​ @whatafuckingdumbass​​ @castiels-majestic-wings​​ @kozkaboi​​ @cozy-the-overlord​​ @birdgirl90​​ @myraiswack​​

Disclaimer: Gif not mine 

“First Saturday of the month. You know what that means,” Tony hollered to the Avengers scattered about the Tower.

“Yes!” Thor boomed. “Be prepared to lose.”

“Funny,” Clint laughed with a roll of his eyes. “I was just about to say the same thing to you.”

“What is happening?” you asked, somewhat bewildered, as the heroes came into the room. “What’s significant about Saturday?”

“Oh my gosh, that’s right. You just missed the last one. Every first Saturday of the month we have a game night,” Nat explained.

You’d been part of the team for just under a month, having officially joined on a Sunday. So, it was true that you’d yet to experience their apparently traditional game night. It sounded like a great deal of fun, though, especially because the Avengers had become your second family in the short time you’d known them. Well, you’d actually known Nat and Clint for years, since you all worked for SHIELD. In fact, they were a huge part of the reason you were an Avenger now. A few months ago there was a particularly dangerous crime ring, and they’d specifically requested you as backup. You’d clicked with everyone immediately and, numerous transfer papers later, here you were.

“Sounds exciting!” you told them. “What are we playing first?”

“Well actually,” Bruce said kind of sheepishly, “it’s not that I want you to sit out, but they’re all team games, and we don’t have an even number of people.”

“So we have a team of three,” Nat said, as if it were obvious.

“No way. That’s unfair,” Tony argued.

You bit your lip, feeling like maybe you were intruding on something you shouldn’t be a part of. It was their thing, after all, and perhaps there was simply no room for a newcomer. As they continued to bicker about whether one larger team mattered or not, you considered just slipping away. That’s when you noticed that there was someone missing.

“What about Loki?” you said. “He would make the numbers even.”

Much to your surprise, everyone burst out laughing. You nervously ran your sweaty palms on the legs of your pants and let out a small laugh, though you weren’t quite sure at what. Once their cackling died down, you dared to ask what was so funny.

“My brother never attends these games nights,” Thor informed you. “He isn’t one for group activities, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“Well, have you ever invited him?”

“Once or twice,” Tony said. “Listen, if you want to try to make a social butterfly out of Reindeer Games, be my guest. In the meantime, we’ll work out a feasible way for us all to play.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed a little, standing up to go find Loki. It was honestly ridiculous that they still treated him the way they did. Sure, he likes to be alone sometimes, but that doesn’t mean he likes being lonely. Not that he’d ever actually admitted to you that he was, but you knew. It was blatantly obvious in the way he sent longing glances toward the rest of the team when you gathered together. You always made sure to ask him over, an invitation he usually accepted. Everyone else had laughed the first time you’d done that, too. They’d only ever asked him a few times, and it was right when he was new and still so lost, so alone, so afraid. Why they took that to just be his permanent disposition, you didn’t know. Regardless of how insensitive they were to his situation, your inclusivity had brought Loki out of his shell a bit, and a friendship had blossomed between you.

A short walk later, you reached his door. You stretched out a hand, but hesitated to knock. Doubt gnawed at the back of your mind. Maybe he truly was not a fan of board games, and then you’d be interrupting his night. After all, he must have a tradition of his own if this happens every first Saturday. Still, you knew that was usually not the case, and steeled yourself against the uncertainty.

“Hello, my little mortal,” he greeted you, opening the door. “Is everything alright?”

“No.”

“What is it? Are you ill? Hurt?” he questioned, jumping into action and shepherding you to his couch.

“No, nothing like that,” you laughed, though you were touched by his concern. “It’s just that it’s game night, and we don’t have an even number of people.”

“Oh? And I suppose that you are asking me to join,” he mused as you nodded. “I am not usually invited, and I am notorious spoiled sport, just ask Thor.”

“Well, people say a lot of things about you, and they’re usually not true.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You don’t have to play if you really don’t want to, but will you? Please. For me?”

“For you, my little mortal, anything. After all, how can I resist those puppy dog eyes?”

You giggled and led the way out of his room, ignoring the thumping of your heart when his hand accidentally brushed yours. Nat and Tony were still bickering about the teams when you arrived, but were quickly stunned into silence when they saw Loki.

“Brother! Good to see you’ve decided to join,” Thor greeted, breaking the somewhat awkward silence. “Shall we begin then?”

First up was Cranium, and you could tell that everyone else was divided into their usual teams: Tony and Bruce, Clint and Nat, Thor and Steve. You rubbed your hands in excitement, ready for some friendly competition.

“Yes!” you shouted a while later, after you and Loki answered the final question right. “We win!”

Everyone else’s jaw hung open, shocked by how serious of a competitor you were. Not to say you were mean-spirited or gloated or anything, but it was obvious you took game night very seriously. Loki was a little surprised too, but he relished in the infectious energy of your feisty spirit. Not to mention he absolutely loved to be on the winning team.

“Congratulations, guys,” Steve said. “Don’t expect to get as lucky in the next game, though.”

The next game, apparently, was charades, which you and Loki absolutely dominated again. The two of you worked as a well-oiled machine, guessing the simple ones like sewing and the more obscure ones like whale watching with ease. Loki was also surprisingly knowledgeable about Midgardian movies and literature. The two of you high fived, having just edged out the competition.

“Wow, good job guys,” Nat congratulated. “Tony and Bruce usually win that one.”

“Way to rub it in,” Tony groaned, flopping back on the couch.

You could tell a part of him wanted to accuse Loki of cheating but, having no real evidence and not wanting to start a fight, restrained himself. Instead, he contented himself with just mumbling how much of an outrage it was. You, however, were on cloud nine.

As the next game was set up, Loki pulled you onto his lap, instilled with confidence after his latest wins. Of course, if anyone were to ask, he would just say he was saving room on the couch. It would have, though, been a lie.

“Ready for a clean sweep, my little mortal?” he whispered, his breath surprising cold on your ear.

“Bring it on!” you whispered back with a wink.

The last game of the night was Pictionary, and by now everyone knew you and Loki were the team to beat. Unfortunately for them, you got this win, too. The Avengers let out a collective sigh as you shouted a victorious whoop and hugged Loki.

“Good game everyone,” you said, starting to help clean up.

“What are you doing, my little mortal?” Loki questioned, half joking. “Do you not know the losers have to clean up?”

“Not sure that’s actually a rule, Rock of Ages,” Tony grumbled.

“Fine, I’ll help,” he replied, placing a singular piece back in the box. “There. Now it is time for our victory lap.”

Then he scooped you up bridal style using his superhuman strength and began running you around the Tower in his arms, both laughing the whole time. He finally brought you to a stop on the balcony of his room.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that right?” you said, still chuckling.

“Perhaps. But we deserved that after an excellent showing.”

“I guess so. As much as it pains me to admit it, we should probably go easy on them next time. We’ll just win one a night, ok?”

“That’s my little mortal,” he happily sighed, wrapping his arms around you. “Always looking out for others. Always looking out for me. Thank you for inviting me along tonight.”

“No problem. It was a lot of fun. We make a pretty good team.”

“Indeed.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, and you rested against Loki, whose arms were still wrapped around you. He felt more relaxed and happy than he had in a while. He knew he’d ask you out someday, but right now he was still too shy, this friendship still too new. One day he would, though, and he couldn’t wait to get there and to every day after.

[clefairymuke]

oiiii i have a request for a oneshot or maybe something fun to add to your regrets fic (whatever you find better) I think it would be funny a reader x the scouts drunk and levi finding them and being all cute taking care of reader :3

thank you for this request!! sorry for how long it took, but it managed to pull me out of some writers block that’s been kicking my ass lately. thank you for suggesting it and reading!

as always, much love! <3

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Red Wine | Levi x Reader

pairing: levi x reader

themes: fluff

tw: swearing, alcohol use

word count: 2511

True fun and relaxation is not something you typically experience.

Of course, when you signed up for this whole Scout Regiment thing, you weren’t expecting nights out in bars and plush queen-sized beds with wool blankets. You expected exactly what you got: exhausting days and mostly sleepless nights, demanding grief and waking nightmares. One thing you hadn’t expected, however, was how stale it would get. These thoughts are why you ended up where you are now: propped lazily against a wall surrounded by your friends, loud laughs bubbling freely from your ever-smiling mouth, and a bottle of wine in hand.

While the “why” is clear to you, the “how” is a bit more cloudy. Around the complete euphoria in your head stands a thick fog blocking your memory — that, or the fact that your drunkenly dwindling attention span can no longer support a thought lasting more than a second or two. All you know is that you’re here now, and you’re having the time of your life. Your eyes and ears skirt past Eren and Jean arguing without stopping to listen in as you pass the bottle to Mikasa.

For once, you aren’t thinking about how Levi could make this experience better. Although you love being in the company of your boyfriend, you can’t help but imagine his disdain if he were to witness your situation. You can almost feel the ferocity of his razor sharp-glare creeping up your spine as you picture it within your mind.

You lay your head back on the concrete wall that keeps you upright and close your eyes. Although you had shown to be quite social when the bottle first began to be passed, you now wanted nothing more than to take a nice nap — or to go vomit just to ease yourself of the queasy feeling that was overtaking your stomach. Either would suffice. You listen to your friends chatting mindlessly around you, their care to be inconspicuous slipping away with the wine. You watch Connie drain what was left in the bottle, leaving you to curse at the fact that you would be stuck in the uncomfortable kind of drunk that left you a bit nauseous while still conscious enough to be prone to anxiety.

You sit there in a dizzy oblivion for what could have been five minutes or fifty, tuning out the antics of the rest of the people in the room as they laugh and roughhouse. Your stomach stirs and turns, but your mind begins to clear: you notice Connie and Sasha choreographing a dance routine to music only they could hear; Mikasa and Armin sit quietly chatting behind Eren as he and Jean argue over who is more adept at fighting; Ymir and Christa are making googly eyes at each other over their giggles.

“Hey, guys?” you say, your brain lagging behind your mouth by at least a few seconds. “I’m probably about to throw up.” You quickly discover that you’re right, as your gut begins to bubble and your mouth begins to water.

“Oh, fuck,” Connie mumbles as he looks around the room desperately. Sasha looks disappointed as he stops dancing and approaches where you sit against the wall, gripping your wrists in his hands and helping you to your feet; with both of you being drunk enough to show it, stumbles are surely present. Time skips, and you’re kneeled in front of the toilet, Connie leaving to give you privacy — you’re decidedly much drunker than you thought you were.

Just as you start to vomit, you hear Eren defeatedly say, “Oh, fuck me.” That can’t be good.

The space goes silent save your groans. The most imaginative depths of your brain think that perhaps a titan is looking in the window, waiting to bring you all to your doom. How convenient for half of the newest scout recruits to be intoxicated and defenseless. When you hear Levi’s voice say, “Stupid fucking brats. Where is she?” you wish it were a titan instead.

A chorus of voices answer, “Bathroom.” What a bunch of fucking sellouts, you think to yourself. Your heartbeat begins to pound in your throat again as you hear his footsteps grow near; when he taps at the door a few times, you let it all out — out of fear or simple drunkenness you are unsure. “God damn it,” you hear him mumble before the door handle turns and his hands find your hair, pulling it back into a makeshift ponytail.

He rubs your back in a manner you can only describe as passive-aggressive. You can tell he wants to scold you — and you’re definitely in for it once you get to feeling better — but you can also tell that he wants to care for you. That’s why you try to pretend not to hear his curses as he lectures you on responsibility.

“Why the hell are you drinking with these idiots? I wouldn’t be mad if it was a glass or two, but there are three empty bottles on the floor in there. Three. No wonder you’re puking your fucking guts up,” he mutters, voice low enough for only you to hear despite his angry tone.

You feel your eyes watering as your stomach settles for another brief moment. “Levi,” you say, your breathing labored, “now is not the time.” You hear him scoff before you begin to dry heave, his hand moving a bit more caring across your back as he holds onto your hair. Your gut starts to feel a bit better as your brain realizes there’s nothing left. He places his hands under your arms and lifts you gently to your feet before flushing the toilet. You stumble awkwardly to his lead as he escorts you to the sink.

He reaches around you to turn on the water, which is cold to the touch as he holds your hand beneath it. “Clean your mouth out,” he says, nudging his hand around yours until you form a cup. “It’s disgusting.” You oblige him, lifting it to your lips. You feel it drip down your chin as you swish it around between your teeth, looking up in the mirror to see your blushing cheeks and droopy eyes. Levi stands behind you, dressed in no more than a grey t-shirt and some comfortable-looking pants. His hair is neat and combed, which doesn’t quite match the rest of his attire, but you aren’t complaining. He looks as ethereal as always. After you spit, he grabs your shoulder and spins you around to face him.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing the tears that had formed on your face away with his thumbs. You shake your head at him, your eyes trailing down to the ground. Here comes the scolding.

He sweeps you off your feet, to your surprise, holding you bridal-style as he carries you out of the bathroom. You lay your head against his shoulder, seeing the walls of the room and the faces of your friends go blurrily by as he strides to the door; they all look terrified.

“Laps,” you hear Levi announce to your friends, his voice icy. “At dawn. I don’t give a shit if you’re hungover.”

A chorus of groans is the soundtrack for your exit as the door slams shut. The walk back to Levi’s suite is spotty at best; you’re unsure of exactly how long it’s taking. The scenery around you feels more dreamlike than anything — you find yourself hoping that you’re still propped against the wall with your friends, sleeping soundly and dreaming of Levi catching you red-handed. When time jumps and he’s laying you down on his couch, you’re pretty sure you’re awake.

You hear rustling around as you lay there, still half waiting for a scolding. He rejoins you rather quickly, setting some things down on the side table and gently lifting your head. He sits, letting you back down slowly to lay in his lap. “I brought you bread,” he says, taking it from the table and placing it in your hands. “It’ll soak up the alcohol. There’s water over here when you need it.” You inspect the bread lazily before nibbling on it. The very idea of chewing something and swallowing it is enough to make you nauseous, but you trust his judgement.

You feel his hand fall atop your forehead and his fingers draw circles in your hair. You don’t fight the grin threatening your lips. “Are you okay, my love?” he asks, his voice soft. This is the tenderness you had fallen in love with many months ago; the one thing your friends are blind to. He carries himself with such coldness for the public — he is rude, and blunt, and insufferable, and unobtainable. With you, however, he could be kind. He could be loving. The speed with which his gentle voice melts your heart never lessens. This is Levi at his most vulnerable.

“I’m just drunk,” you tell him, your words slurring into each other. “I’m not dying.”

You hear a chuckle barely pass over his lips like a spring breeze, the sparkle in his eyes reminiscent of the way the sun reflects off the surface of a pond. The peaceful nature of your position is a worthy opponent to how your insides wage war on one another: nausea, dizziness, and the beginnings of what will become an absolutely splitting headache all contained within one disoriented body. “I would’ve gone with you, you know,” he says suddenly after a serene moment of silence. “I would’ve known when you needed to stop drinking.” He combs his fingers against your cheek, silvery eyes softening into pools of undeniable adoration.

“You would’ve been a complete buzzkill,” you reply, half joking as you close your eyes and enjoy the rare affection.

You hear a cross between a scoff and a laugh come from above you. “Keeping those brats from getting you so wasted that you start puking isn’t being a buzzkill. It’s called taking care of you.”

“I think I’m not drunk enough,” you say honestly. “We ran out of wine right at that stage where you could go to sleep or start throwing up, but there’s absolutely no chance of having a good time.”

He taps the top of your head with two fingers, prompting you to let him up. You oblige him, using the opportunity to lay down your bread and take a sip from the glass of water that rests on the side table. You watch as he saunters back toward the kitchen, wondering what he was doing somewhat, but mostly just trying to get a grip on your senses. You sit up as you wait on his return, laying your head back against the plush upholstery and taking deep breaths.

He’s back as quickly as he left, both hands behind his back in a feeble attempt to hide the wine glasses as their stems poked around to your view. You feel a smile creep onto your face as he unveils his master plan: a bottle of red wine and a glass for each of you. “Don’t expect this often,” he announces as he sets it all on the table, pulling a wine key from his pocket. He joins you on the couch, scooting in close so that your knees brush before you hear the satisfying pop of the cork and the relaxing swish of liquid on glass.

“You’re expecting me to believe that Captain Levi is offering to get drunk with me?” you giggle, almost nervous to reach for the wine in front of you. He laughs off your comment, reaching in front of him and lifting the glass to his lips; he takes only a sip before looking at you in expectation. You take yours as well, holding it up to his jokingly before you both bring them to your mouths.

After your first gulp, time begins to melt away. A movie-esque montage begins in front of your eyes: the sight of the man you love, once so stoic and so stiff, loosening and laughing the night away at your side; the feeling of typically isolated and scarce hands trailing carelessly along the length of your arms, warm against the sensitive skin of your wrists and your thighs; the smell of red wine spilled innocently on hardwood and upholstery without complaints or uprooting to clean it; the sound of his velvet and brass voice with his uncensored expressions of love, whispered and melodic; the taste of mint and jasmine tea on his unusually wandering lips.

What might be thirty minutes or three hours passes in a flash, leaving you sprawled across the couch with the drunken mess that is your typically reserved lover, legs utterly entangled so that you were unsure where you ended and he began. He’s whispering to you — that much you know — but his words are slurred, and you’re unbelievably distracted by the feeling of wet kisses being peppered along your jaw and ear. He grasps at your back, massaging and caressing and leaving no inch uncovered by his calloused hands as his touch reminds you why you breathe and laugh and plainly exist.

“Levi,” you whisper, your mind a tangled ball of twine save for the feeling of his breath on your cheek.

He hums in response, not bothering to look up at you. You can feel his grin against your jaw.

“We should get to bed, love.”

You’d be left to wonder how the two of you made it into the next room when morning came; rest assured there would be a trail from the couch to the bedroom door made from clumsily knocked-over knick knacks and your discarded clothes from the day to clue you in. If you were sober, you’d care enough about Levi’s wrath tomorrow to clean up behind the two of you; however, you aren’t sober, and you don’t care enough.

The two of you fall into the bed you share, intertwining your limbs like the threads of a tapestry, laying out plainly and beautifully the comfort you find in him. Your head finds his chest and his hands find your lower back, pulling you flush against him as his eyelids begin their threats to close before he is quite ready. He murmurs out your name, his hold on you growing more snug when it passes his lips. “I love you, s—” he falters, nuzzling his face in the top of your head. “So much.”

It’s short — and a pretty common thing for someone to say to the person they love — but it means everything coming from him. “I love you, Levi,” you tell him, praying to whatever is up there that you’ll remember this in the morning.

Soon, the two of you stop stirring and whispering. As you breathe him in, you try to hear his words in your mind as many times as you can before you slip out of consciousness. You begin to drift off to sleep, peaceful and content in his arms as you’ve ever been.

[odos-bucket]

Bruce Being Super Protective of His Kids in Their Out-Of-Costume Lives Pt. 2

(Or as this series is becoming: Bruce Looking After His Kids at Fancy Parties)

Part 1

Jason isn’t particularly well adapted to the kinds of social gatherings that Bruce’s position within the city demands they participate in. He attends his first event a few months into his stay at Wayne manor. He goes in fully expecting it to be terrible, and is not disappointed.

The old ladies trying to pinch his cheeks were something that Dick had warned him about. His tone had been light, like maybe it was something that he thought was funny, or was trying to think of as funny. But Jason doesn’t like to be touched, not by people he doesn’t know. He doesn’t think Dick was trying to scare him exactly, but he accomplishes it anyway.

From the time the shindig begins he’s wound so tight he’s practically vibrating. He has no idea how he’s supposed to act at something like this. Things he’s never thought about before are suddenly tormenting him. He can’t figure out what he should be doing with his hands, or how to stand. He’s never been self conscious, but now he’s in this stupid room, wearing this stupid suit, surrounded by these stupid people, and it’s making him feel awkward.

The first time somebody tries to touch him he flinches away violently. He doesn’t mean to; it’s just what happens. It earns him a series of incredulous looks, from the man who had made the mistake of putting a hand on his shoulder, and a few other people in the vicinity.

Jason relocates himself quickly, though there’s no destination for him that’s that much better than where he’s already been. The various corners of the crowd all feel more or less the same, all absurd, all suffocating.

The next time someone tries to touch him, it’s his face. He had already decided that he didn’t like the woman in question before it happened. Her voice is an annoying pitch. Her words are all condescending. And even before reaching out for him she had been standing way too close.

If the proximity hadn’t been enough to put him on high alert the patronizing way she spoke to him certainly would have done it.

When her fingers come to press against his chin- as if she wants to turn his head to examine him- he pushes her away. Again, he doesn’t mean to do it exactly. It’s an instinctive reaction (and a pretty reasonable one, he thinks).

This time, however, he gets more than a few suspicious stares. The movement itself had been subtle enough not to draw any attention he didn’t already have. But the woman replies with an outraged squawk, that suddenly brings dozens of eyes onto them.

Jason freezes. Being stared at had been pretty high on his list of things to avoid tonight. And now people are talking.

“Why you little-“

“What happened?”

“Wayne’s new pet project-“

“Did you just hit her?”

“Delinquent-“

“Did he just hit her?”

The woman he shoved looks like she might be about to slap him, but he’s honestly less concerned about that than he is about the mix of curious and indignant bystanders drawing closer. They’re not surrounding him really, but it sure as hell feels like they’re trying to. Jason’s having a hard time processing anything beyond the impulse to lash out again, not to hurt anyone, just to get them away, so that maybe he can get away.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Oh god, Bruce. Jason’s not surprised the scene got his attention, but he’s a little startled to hear a much darker tone than his regular civilian voice.

Bruce forces his way through the crowd. Some of the onlookers redirect their attention away as he approaches. A handful of voices from different directions make overlapping attempts to answer his question. Jason hears something about how he’s, “not as well behaved as your last stray,” but isn’t looking up in time to see how the comment makes Bruce bristle.

He reaches them in seconds, takes in the woman’s body language, and immediately drags her several feet back from Jason. When he speaks, he manages to sound like Batman (at least to Jason’s knowing ears), even without the voice modulator.

“You will never put your hands on my child again.”

“I didn-“ the woman begins. “Your urchin-“

“Did you touch him?”

“I was only-“

“Yes or no.”

“I didn’t hurt him,” she scoffs.

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“Mr. Wayne, the kid attacked her. All she did was touch him.” The man who interrupts is in the minority, in that he has not had the good sense to pretend not to be paying attention to the whole scene.

Bruce’s jaw grinds, as he looks slowly between the man and the woman.

“So you did touch him.”

Bruce knows that Jason doesn’t like to be touched, knows that he can have something like a fear response to it, if it comes unexpectedly. And there are very few things that he hates more than his kids being scared. But he also knows better than to publicly chastise socialites specifically for scaring him, knows better than to bring his fear to people’s attention.

“This is ridiculous,” she says.

“On that we’re agreed.” Bruce slips further into his regular public persona as he speaks.

He looks around. First at Jason, taking stock of him, making sure he’s all right. Then to what remains of the audience they’d acquired, making pointed eye contact, silently subduing any conflict before it can arise. By the time he turns back to where the woman was, she’s hurried away. The sparse handful of people still shooting them scandalized glares are easy to ignore.

Bruce approaches Jason.

“You okay?”

He nods at first, then shrugs. He’s not sure if he wishes that things didn’t bother him as much, or just that people would quit doing the things that do bother him. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’m never going to be good at this.” It isn’t an apology, or an admission of guilt, more like he’s daring Bruce to tell him that he needs to be.

Bruce makes a sweeping gesture around them.

“You’re clearly not the only one.”

An amused little half smile quirks onto Jason’s face, and Bruce revels in it.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Jason really does. But he still hesitates.

“I’m not sure if I can remember how to get back.” He’s still not that familiar with this part of the city.

“What?” Bruce looks genuinely confused. “No. Jason, I’m going to take you home.”

“Oh. Okay. I mean, if you want to.”

Bruce smiles at his feigned nonchalance.

“Do you have a jacket?”

Jason tugs at the fabric of his suit coat.

“Is this not a jacket?”

“I suppose it is. It’s chilly out though.”

Jason rolls his eyes.

“Like Dick didn’t run around in his underwear twelve months out of the year.”

Bruce lowers his voice slightly.

“Yes but not for lack of me trying to get him to put pants on.” His tone is unnecessarily serious.

Jason wants to laugh. Instead he rolls his eyes again.

They leave the party without further incident, catching a cab back to the manor.

There are things that Bruce did with Dick that he learned quickly not to do with Jason, patting him on the back, ruffling his hair, putting a hand on his arm. But when Jason takes the initiative to reach out, he never pulls away. He takes the middle seat in the taxi, putting him immediately next to Bruce, their arms pressed directly against each other. Bruce delights in his son’s closeness.

---

Bruce’s “outburst” is all over the news for the next week. Alfred buys a copy of the first tabloid to print a headline about it, and hangs it on the refrigerator.

Jason isn’t sure why, the whole thing was awful and embarrassing, but he find himself smiling whenever he glances up at it.