#it's hard to capture the big picture so i doubt this one will be as popular

[paracosmenthusiast]

Servicing the Tech Guy

Neo x Reader based on the ~dark~ prompt from @johnwickb1tsch circulated to me by a good friend @daisy-is-a-writer

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18+ | sexual content | 4.2k

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It was a long shot and you knew that, and waiting outside of his apartment was (at the least) creepy and (at the most) borderline psychotic.

But what other choice did you have? In your hands, the two pieces of your laptop. You couldn’t afford to replace it, at least, not before your quarterly report was due, which was tonight, by the way, and all of your hard efforts were there in the broken halves of your laptop, you didn’t have time to figure out a solution.

Besides. You were fighting back tears as it was. Two nights ago you had broken up with your long-time partner, it was his fault your laptop was broken, and you didn’t really want to think about it anymore but it was there in the broken device in your hands and you couldn’t avoid thinking about it. What was something you never wanted to see? Oh, yeah. Naked pictures of your (now ex) boyfriend including videos of him rubbing his cock which he had callously sent to… Well… A innumerable number of women over the internet.

The craziest part of it all was that he had sworn to you he didn’t do it, he didn’t cheat on you, that he had been so secretive lately because he was ring shopping!

But your friend had pointed you in the direction of an internet private eye who had hacked into your partner’s accounts and produced the irrefutable evidence so without literally thousands of screen captures in hand, you had a pretty damn hard time believing your partner wasn’t cheating.

And speaking of the internet private eye—fuck, what was his name? Neo? You were outside of his apartment like a goddamn stalker, holding your broken laptop, rapping impatiently on his door.

Last time you’d seen him you’d remembered him as very tall, very dark, with a very low and husky voice and an air of seriousness that unnerved you. Like he’d seen things in the depth of the internet that hardened him.

A big part of you doubted that he was going to take pity on poor little you and fix up your laptop or at the very least, pull your quarterly report off of it, but you had to try. What else could you do?

Tears burned in your eyes again. Damn it. Thought you’d gotten that under control—

And perfect timing, because you heard the lock click, and the door slid open, just enough for you to see him peering out at you.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said. You (idealistically) thought he sounded pleasantly surprised.

You held up your broken laptop, mouth opening to unveil the funny, funny story of why you needed his help yet again, and before you could get it out, a sob burst out instead.

Double damn it.

Neo snapped the door shut—you heard the chain rattling—and then he opened the door fully, now frowning down at you. Just as dark and tall as you’d remembered except he didn’t have that long, black coat anymore. Now he… Honestly looked like he’d just crawled out of bed, in a loose pair of flannel pants and a white t-shirt decorated with a graphic outline of a bunny (hadn’t that been his private eye business logo?).

“Uh, come in,” he said, when it was clear you weren’t going to get words out over the tears, and he stepped back to let you inside his apartment.

It was just as you remembered it a few days ago. Relatively clean and sparse but with the lights off and the windows covered by heavy blackout drapes, not that it mattered now because it was pouring rain outside the apartment building, and half past 10pm.

His hand on your shoulder startled you. “Are you coming inside?”

You shuffled forward, one foot after the other. He reached for the wall and flicked on a light over the entryway, revealing that he’d been cooking and there was a lasagna sitting on the counter looking beyond delicious and smelling twice as good.

You sniffled, and tried to stop yourself from crying further. “I’m sorry. Sorry. I just—I have this big report due tonight, and…”

You gave your broken laptop a little shake. The screen was in one hand, the keyboard in the other.

Neo shut the door, bolted it, and then gave you another little push, guiding you to walk further into the apartment. Away from the plate of lasagna that aggressively beckoned. Your stomach flip-flopped: How long had it been since you last ate? Why couldn’t you remember?

God, this breakup was murdering you. Why couldn’t you have waited until after the quarterly review period had closed?

“Totally fine,” he said. “Uh, have a seat. I’d ask what the problem is, but I think I can put the puzzle together myself.”

And then he reached for your laptop and you reluctantly surrendered it into his hands. His fingers brushing yours startled you—the warmth, almost electrical, did not match the guarded expression on his face.

“Taking the breakup hard, huh?” It’s a rhetorical question. He wasn’t even looking at you, just took the computer over to his desk in the corner, not bothering with the light, and flipped the laptop upside down.

You awkwardly perched at his two-person dining table. The same place you’d perched a few days ago when he’d briefed you on his findings. The parallels depressed you and before you could stop it, a few more tears slipped out.

He looked up like he had some sort of sixth sense and turned around. “Why are you still crying?”

You frowned.

He turned back away and sighed. “It’s easy. The drives and data are all fine, just the monitor is busted. It’ll be ten minutes to pull everything, if that.”

Then he put the laptop down and strode back across the room, you tensed as he passed and you weren’t sure why, except that he came back with a fork and the plate of steaming lasagna and put it in front of you.

“Help yourself.”

You were a little agape. “You don’t have to do that, I don’t want to take your dinner.”

“I already ate.” He walked back to his work station and the conversation was over—you could tell from his curt tone.

One more frown from him, and you obediently picked up the fork. Then he turned away to work on your laptop and you fed yourself.

Actually, it helped a lot. Filling your stomach and not having to think about the breakup, just thinking about the taste of the pasta and the sauce on your tongue, layered with some hearty, almost smoky meat; it was a pretty damn good lasagna.

By the time he came back to the table, you were over the tears. He stood over you for a moment and when he didn’t say anything, you looked up from the finished plate of lasagna. “Uh, thanks for the lasagna. I’m sorry for showing up with no notice. I—How much will it be? I do plan to pay, I’m sorry, I’m a mess right now.”

“Lot of information,” he said. “Slow down. I don’t need payment, seems like you’re suffering enough from the last time I saw you. So. Just take it.” And he placed a USB drive in front of you.

“Ah—” Shit, how were you going to submit your quarterly report?

“I already sent your report.” He tapped the USB drive, and you found your eyes wandering up his arm—he was nicely developed, in a way you didn’t expect from a guy working in tech. Like, at all. “It was pretty easy to log into your work email. You should probably change your password. First name, last name, and your birthday? Seriously?”

You flushed. “Shut up, I’m not that creative. But—um. Thanks. This is great. This is way more than I could’ve hoped for.”

For a moment he was silent, then he reached out and brushed your hair back from your face. A motion that startled you enough to make you jump.

“I changed my mind. I want payment.”

Yeah, you couldn’t fault the guy for that. “Okay—Um, what sounds reasonable to you?” You didn’t have your wallet but you could send it over your phone. If your phone wasn’t dead. For that matter, he could probably just take whatever money he wanted, anyway. Jesus Christ—technology was terrifying.

“I want a date,” he said. “Go on a date with me and we’ll call it square.”

You blinked. Now you were properly agape and for some reason you found it incredibly hard to look at him so you stared down into your lasagna. Or the leftovers of it. “Uh, Neo—fuck me, that cannot be your real name, is it?”

“Close enough to it. What do you need my real name for?”

Not that you really expected him to give you his real moniker. Ugh. “Um, okay. Neo, I just broke up with a long-term partner, I’m… I’m a mess. I don’t really have time or desire to go out with anybody right now, but, you know, in a couple months, sure. Why not.”

He tapped the USB drive. “Now I regret proactively sending your report for you. Alright, then I’ll take a kiss. A long one. And slow.”

You looked up, thinking he had to be joking, and he was smiling, but in a way that put a nervous tizzy in your stomach. Fuck. He was attractive—and tall—and muscular—Honestly, what would it hurt?

“Alright,” you acquiesced. And opened your mouth to continue but he leaned down, one hand reaching out to steady your face, and immediately kissed you.

Oh, he was a good kisser. He was a very good kisser. His lips were soft and when his tongue touched your teeth you didn’t mind at all, because you had to squeeze your thighs together, uncomfortable with the heat growing low in your stomach, and when you tasted his saliva it made it nearly impossible to remember to breathe.

You pulled away.

“I said a long one,” Neo said, murmured it really, because he was still an inch or two from your face, “and slow, too.”

And he pulled your face forward, fingers tight on your jaw, and kissed you again. And you let him. Again. This time you shut your mouth, to keep it chaste, and without a second of delay he bit your lip. Hard. Until you gasped a little at the sharp pain.

His hand slid to your throat, for just a second you wondered if you’d gotten in over your head, except that the rest of your body was very onboard with this new course of action, and you couldn’t breathe well enough to complain, anyway.

Neo pulled you up from your seat, almost roughly, crushing you into an embrace that would’ve hurt except it felt good and strange to be held after the last two very lonely nights, and you breathed out, and he kissed your teeth, and you forgot for a moment what the fuck you were doing and you put your hand on his hip to steady yourself and you felt bare skin between his shirt and the waistband of your pants and it felt hot like fire.

His hand wrapped around your wrist, still kissing you, deeply, and then he put your hand over his crotch and you were confronted by the thick bulge in his pants.

You shouldn’t have done it, should’ve pulled away, but for some inane reason you just—you gave it a little squeeze. Just, you know. Trying to get a feel of how big he was.

It felt big. It was hard to tell (although you didn’t think he was wearing underwear) but you thought it felt pretty damn big. You slid your hand along the waist band of his pants, toying with the button fly, until your fingers slipped through the gap in the front of his pants and you felt the warmth of his bare skin beneath.

Then the two of you broke apart, and you found you were sweating a bit, and your hand was half inside his pants, his skin was hot and you were inches from touching his cock and he was looking down at you, and he was looking down at you, and his eyes were so dark and so—mysterious, and deep…

And besides, you were wet, you could feel it between your legs, you were wet, you were sweaty from nerves, and your heart was pounding in your chest.

“I am so sorry,” you said. What the fuck was wrong with you? “I—I’m not trying to lead you on. I can’t do this, I just had a breakup—”

“Yeah,” he said. “So you deserve a win. Right?”

And without warning he scooped you up, so easily like you were a feather, hands tight on your thighs, all too close to gripping your ass. More to catch yourself than anything you wrapped your legs around his waist, startled by the sudden change in altitude. And of course it put your pelvis right into contact with that bulge in the front of his pants that you couldn’t seem to stop bumping into.

Oh yeah. That felt big.

He kissed your neck, you felt his teeth nip at the skin, and then he bit down, and the rush of pleasure and adrenaline made you gasp.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “I think I do deserve a win.”

He hmmed his approval, almost like a laugh, and you ran your fingers through his dark hair, gripping it close to the scalp, enjoying the soft strands, the cedar and musk smell of his skin.

Then he turned, still holding onto you, his face still tucked close to your neck (surely he could hear your erratic pulse) and carried you to the bedroom.

A moment later he dropped you on the bed, a little unceremoniously except it was so soft and big and the comforter was so plush that you didn’t even mind. You’d been staying in a shitty motel on account of, you know, the breakup.

For a moment you forgot about your impending endeavor and luxuriated in the soft bed, a little moan of happiness leaving your mouth, and he laughed, rousing you from the moment. “Having fun?”

“Fuck, I missed a real mattress,” you said, and ran your fingers over the comforter. “It’s—Oh.”

He had taken his shirt off, revealing a nicely defined and trim torso. But more than that. He pulled his pants down, then, and you could see his cock unrestricted by his clothes. And you were right. It was big. And thick.

He ran his hand down the length of his cock and smiled at you. “Take off your clothes.”

The authoritative tone made it hard for you to freeze, and without a thought you pulled your shirt over your head and reached down to unbutton your jeans. Why’d you wear skinny jeans? Why did they have to look so damn good but then cause so many damn complications during attempted hookups?

“I thought you were pretty when I first met you,” he told you, causing you to pause. “But you’re more than pretty, you were just so… Lifeless.”

You frowned.

“I don’t think you were really all that happy with him anyway.”

You frowned, further, because thinking about your ex was not going to make this little sexual escapade fun. “Can we—not talk about this?”

Neo smiled, and then grabbed your arm and lifted you up like a doll and turned you over onto your stomach. “You’re taking too long.”

You were stunned by the action so you couldn’t reply, he grabbed the waistband of your jeans and yanked them down to your thighs. Pinning your legs together because goddamn it, why had you worn skinny jeans?

His finger trailed up the inside of your thigh… Down the inside of the other thigh… Then he slid his finger teasing down to the the wettest part of your panties and you flinched at the unexpected touch. “Oh, are you excited?”

“Fuck you.” You were embarrassed and it made the words come out rough. “Can you—not tease me? I told you, I’m a fucking mess right now, and I can’t—I can’t…”

As you spoke, he gently pulled down your panties, and right as you formed the most impassioned part of your sentence, you felt his mouth on your clit and suddenly all the words escaped you. Disappeared into thin air.

Didn’t want to but it came out of nowhere: you let out a soft little moan. It wasn’t that good, just, his lips were so soft, his mouth was gentle and warm and he ran his tongue over you and his teeth passed over your clit just enough to send a shiver through your whole body, and yeah, it was that good. Fuck. Oh, fuck. You moaned but this time it was because you wanted to, because you’d never had the opportunity with your ex because he hated noise during sex—

“Oh,” you said. “Fuck.”

He replaced his mouth with a finger, gently teasing your opening, feeling along your labia, tracing the shape of you, and then gently slid his finger in. When he spoke it was so quiet it was barely audible over the sound of your pulse beating in your ears. “So wet for me already.”

Irritation, hot flash of it. “I’m not wet for you—”

“Why is that so hard for you to admit?” He took his finger out, leaving your walls to clench miserably around nothing, and then for a moment you felt nothing, and when you craned your neck to look over your shoulder at him, it was just in time to watch as he brought his hand down and slapped your ass cheek. Hard.

This time you gasped out of pain and before you could process it, he did it again; and a third time, and a fourth. “Stop! Stop it, Neo, that really hurts!”

He did it again and you braced yourself on the bed, leveraging yourself up onto all fours, so you could turn over onto your side to properly look at him. Except he put his hand on your thigh in such a reassuring manner and said, “calm down. I’m sorry, I got carried away. You really have the most perfect ass.”

The compliment in conjunction with the cool tone disarmed you, and you looked over your shoulder at him, unnerved. Trying to gauge what to do.

He smiled. “Relax. I want you to enjoy this. I just got carried away.”

“Yeah, well, fucking don’t, next time—”

“Next time? Who’s carried away now?” He grabbed the hem of your jeans right at your ankle and in a coordinated motion you found quite impressive, he pulled it over your foot, effectively freeing your leg from the vice-grip of the skinny jeans.

So impressed were you that you offered your other ankle, dumbfounded at the ease, and let him do it again, so you were bare with just your panties rolled down to your thighs, and your ill-fitting bra barely hanging on.

He leaned forward, still meeting your eyes, and then kissed the inside of your ankle. You found yourself thanking the universe that you’d had an everything-shower this morning and your legs were exfoliated and lotioned and everything was shaved or trimmed the way you liked.

“Keep going,” you said. And he smiled again, climbed onto the bed between your legs, and this time his lips landed just above the inside of your knee. You were a bit breathless now. “A little bit higher.”

Your thigh. You swallowed. “Higher.”

He kissed the inside of your thigh, so close, and then ran his tongue over the spot, and up, until he had found your clit again—

You tried to stifle a whimper but he heard it, and then straightened up, wrapping both arms under and around your thighs and jerking your hips up so you felt the whole length of his hard cock against your entrance.

For a moment he didn’t do anything, just let the head of his cock rub against you, until you found yourself clenched in anticipation, until you grabbed at his forearm and hissed at him to do something.

“Do what?”

Why was he playing this ridiculous game? “Put it inside!”

“Put—What?”

You growled. “Put your cock inside me and fuck me, Neo, please.”

He smiled, and reached down to gently place the pad of his thumb against your clit. Stroking in slow and gentle circles that did nothing to alleviate the lust clouding your head.

Then he put the tip of his cock against you and pushed, and it was so much thicker than you were anticipating that you gasped a little. Actually it didn’t feel great—it kind of hurt. “Slow down!”

“Stop it, keep going, go faster, slow down… So many mixed messages.” He still had one arm wrapped around your hip but obligingly he pulled out. For a half a second before he thrust forward and this time the head of his cock pushed all the way in, and you were scrambling to adjust, squirming on the bed except he had your hip pinned so you couldn’t move.

You lay there, breathing a little hard, looking up at him, walls clenched tight around his cock, and before you could tell him that it didn’t feel that great, he slid his hand to the underside of your knee and lifted your leg so he could kiss the sole of your foot.

The soft, wetness of his mouth on your toes distracted you from the mild discomfort of him stretching you out, and worse. You were a bit ticklish so you squirmed and his tongue between your toes was so soft and warm and nobody had ever done that before. You weren’t sure you liked it but it definitely relaxed your taut muscles and you abruptly felt his cock press up to your cervix.

“Fuck,” you gasped, and he gave no more delay, pulling out and thrusting all the way back in until you felt the tip of him against your cervix, “Fuck, Neo!”

Another couple of thrusts and you found it all too easy to let yourself moan. It felt good. You’d never had someone so deep inside you and holy fuck, it felt good.

Neo reached down, scooping up your leg and placing it over his shoulder, lifting your hips off the bed. The angle put his cock even deeper inside you and you let out a little strangled cry, half at the discomfort, half at the unfamiliar sensation of something rubbing against your cervix.

It felt…

“You’re so fucking tight,” Neo said. “You’re really squeezing my cock, aren’t you? Does that feel good?”

You wanted to remind him that you didn’t want to be embarrassed but you kind of just let out a gasp or a moan or something and he leaned down and kissed your neck, tongue running over the sore spot he’d bit earlier, and that made you forget about any embarrassment.

You ran your hands down his bare back, digging your nails into the muscles as they flexed, enjoying the suppleness and the warmth of his skin, until you felt him suck in a breath of pain and you realized how tightly you’d latched onto him.

Tried to apologize—but he simply lifted up your other leg onto his other shoulder and pressed down into you, until your knees were jammed against your collarbone and he could fuck you easily without resistance.

And at the very first thrust that way, both your legs up over your head, you couldn’t hold it a second longer. “Fuck,” you said. “Fuck, fuck!”

Felt yourself squeeze tight around his cock, and release, and squeeze, you couldn’t control it; suddenly the feeling of his abdomen rubbing against your clit as he fucked you so deeply was unbearably sensitive and you were clawing at his back this time to get him to stop because you were—

Oh! It was an orgasm! All your muscles locked up, you gasped out some strangled version of his name—

And then you felt his cock throbbing inside you, and he wrapped his hand under your neck and pulled your head up, compressing your spine even further and—you felt a rush of warmth as he came.

He thrust a few more times, but much slower, and then gently peeled your legs off his shoulders and sat back on his heels to look at you.

You could barely look back at him. Your mouth was open in shock, your abdomen felt like it was seizing, and your vagina was so sensitive that the open air was over-stimulating.

For a moment the two of you breathed, and he ran a hand through his hair. He was sweaty but for some reason you didn’t mind it, didn’t mind his sweaty skin still touching yours. Actually you could probably lick the man clean.

“Did that—”

You interrupted. “I’m—I’m not sure I’ve really paid you back for, uh, helping me with my laptop. But, you know. If you could help me get a new one then I’d really owe you.”

For a second he didn’t seem to get it. And then he grinned. “I think we’ll have to look into some payment plans, then.”

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the rest of my keanu stuff is on my master list: masterlist

[honeyhenry]

Apple Pie and You and I

A little story of the Seresins aka Hangman being a softie for his girl. Fluff, no warnings, please enjoy!

Jake Seresin, a lone star state boy through and though, always found himself feeling closer to home with a warm apple pie and a country song playing with a gentle thrum on his Pop’s old record player in the room next door.

The only time he felt closer to a sense of home was with you - his lovely lady who had managed to lure and capture the Hangman hook line and sinker by batting her pretty lashes and making him work hard for her attention. It had taken him 3 weeks of smirks that turned to smiles, and insistence that turned into nothing shy of begging, for you to agree to a date. The only holding back he’d done was in omitting to state the thought that had urged him to act in the first place; “Oh, she's gonna be my wife someday.”

The typically cocksure brazen pilot hadn’t the need to utter those words for another 14 months, past the utterly exclusive dating period, nor in between months of loved up sweetness and the pained inevitability of month-long deployments. He’d told you the very moment after his 1 month deployment - which had extended into 7 and a half weeks - of a monogamous routine, where a few pictures and fond memories were just not cutting it any more.

The tarmac had scratched the khaki material of his bags as he'd dropped them with a heavy thud to the ground, only eager to reach your arms sooner. Your little sundress catching in the soft wind, the warmth of the sun heating your cheeks and nose as he engulfs you in his arms, holding tight before he'd pulled his head away to take a proper long look at your pretty face - and then brought your lips to his. He'd kissed you over and over and over, the smile on his face growing every time, your eyes clear and watering, having waited for this moment.

And quietly, once the decision was made to catch your breaths, he'd whispered, lips ghosting over yours, that you were it for him. That he was going to marry you.

According to the Navy, Hangman had no one at home, no next of kin unless you provided the contacts of his parents down in their ranch a few states away should there ever be the need for the passing over of belongings and dog tags to fatefully occur. But Jake Seresin? He had a whole life to get back to; one he needed to kick start with a ring and a question.

The ring itself would be an heirloom, no doubt about it, and had required a trip back to Texas to see his family and share with them his upcoming plans. Having met you a handful of times over Christmas and on big family birthdays, the Seresins were entirely on board. Jake's Momma had given him a close hug with tears in her eyes while his Dad and siblings cheered and grinned the classic Seresin smile. Their family often grew each year, but his Momma and Grammie had worried that their headstrong, flirtatious boy would get too caught up in the ways of the world to settle down. He was a softie at heart, and you had been the best thing to ever happen to him.

They adored you. Enough for Grammie to take her grandson into her study, and open the jewellery box safely nestled inside a locked cupboard door. "This one is a diamond", she'd said as she'd taken out a piece." It's been in the family since before I was born. It's even got the family name engraved inside." Jake had taken it, listening respectfully to his Grammie but still lost in the thought of how the ring would look so beautiful on your finger. Thinking of you being his, forever.

That had been 18 months ago now, and the glinting stone on your ring finger, alongside a shiny golden wedding band, showing that all had gone to plan. Hangman proudly wears his ring too, occasionally looping it around his dog tags if need be. However currently, in the Lone Star state, the dog tags are off and his ring fits snugly on his fourth finger as he holds you close.

It's campfire night at the ranch, and you sit on his lap, curled in and admiring the way his face has caught the sun, inspecting every detail of him in the glow of the fire he had helped to start. He looks between his family; uncles, cousins, grandparents, now and then but his main focus is always you. Your hands clasp his left one as he uses the other to nurse a beer after working up a sweat teaching his youngest nephews to play football earlier that day. It had been so endearing to watch as you'd prepared the barbecue and baked fresh cookies using the special Seresin recipe, with his Momma and sisters.

"I got the recipe from your Mom, for the cookies, so we can have them at home." You'd whispered sweetly as the chatter around the fire continued. "Do you know", Jake murmured, looking deep into your eyes as his green ones pierced into your soul. "Do you know how much I love you?"

Your giggle had been soft and the eye roll that followed made Jake smirk lovingly. Still in awe of how he got the girl that barely spoke to him but was still batting her lashes and playing hard to get. He brings your hand to his lips, kissing the point just above where your rings lay on your finger.

"The kids'll love 'em. You're gonna be a great Mom." He stops smirking and now looks at you, fully focused with a soft, genuine smile. Placing the beer down, he rests his hand on your stomach, underneath the sweatshirt of his you've borrowed that splashes the words University of Texas, Austin on the front. It's old and thinning out but it smells of Jake, so it's something you will happily bask in and nap in and snuggle in until you have to leave his family home once more.

"Shhhh. I already think Grammie knows", you scold him. And she does. Grammie knows and as his Momma watches the two of you interact now, she's certain that she knows too. Call it a Mother's instinct. Jake's little check-ins throughout the day had not gone unnoticed, nor had your daily naps that you blamed on the heat, despite it only being the middle of May.

"But Grammie knows everything, a few more days and I can finally tell 'em all. Been dyin' to sweetheart." His hand rubs your stomach gently, not to raise suspicion but also to comfort you. Sure, as the cookies and apple pie were brought out, he had felt a little nostalgia, but with you in his lap wearing his ring, and his baby in your belly, Jake Seresin had never felt more at home than in that moment.

[allthingscons1dered]

Like Brothers

Batbros x batsibling!reader, hurt/(some)comfort. Reader is going through it.

warnings: canon typical violence, tons of angst, lots of self doubt. I think this is pretty gender neutral, I apologize if not.

For the past few weeks, you’ve been miserable. It had started with a particularly hard case you’d worked on involving Professor Pyg, and the victims he’d taken hostage. You had caught him in the act of dismantling one of them.

It would have made you physically ill, if there was time for it. Thankfully, your muscle memory took over and you took him down— hard.

Writing the report had been excruciating. You had seen a lot of gruesome and evil in this work. But this… it was stuck in your mind, replaying over and over.

You couldn’t sleep the first night. It was there, in every dark corner of your room and every time you closed your eyes. And if it wasn’t playing out in front of you, the screams were ringing in your ears with every second of silence.

So you trained and tired yourself out, thinking it would be the solution. It would never be so easy, of course. In fact, it was almost worse.

Because now you were sluggish and you had a much harder time occupying your mind with other thoughts. And when you finally drifted off, the nightmares plagued every moment of your slumber.

Sleeping no more than two hours a night was wearing you down. And now, after multiple weeks of this sick game, you were starting to make mistakes.

The first slip is not on patrol, but during school. You fall asleep in the middle of algebra. Which shouldn’t be a huge deal, right?

A classmate decides to take a picture and send it to the newspaper, suggesting issues in the home. And the next morning, you’re featured on the front page titled ‘Bruce Wayne: Unfit Parent?’.

The Wayne family has had its share of unflattering and false news headlines, so it’s truthfully more embarrassing than worrisome.

“That’s definitely not your angle, kiddo,” Jason says as he snags an apple from the bowl in front of you before stalking out of the kitchen.

Bruce ruffles your hair. “Try looking a bit more lively today, okay?”

You smile and duck your head, acting sheepish, but you’re overwhelmed. Having hoped you’d get over this nightmare situation by now.

Instead, you wake every night in tears or sweating bullets. The nightmares are always changing. Sometimes, you’re the one being captured. Other times, you’re forced to watch as your loved ones become disfigured, unable to aid them.

Patrol is the only time that you can clear your thoughts and focus on the task at hand. Until you engage too early, with not enough backup. Spoiler bails you out. She assures you that it’s no big thing, everyone has bad days.

You try to believe her.

The next mistake is made when you’re unfocused against Two-Face goons with Red Robin. They’re lousy fighters and yet, you misjudge a hit, sending you flying into the wall behind you.

It was a rookie mistake. And one you wish had happened without an audience.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tim asks as he hands you an ice pack for your split eyebrow. “You’re not seeing double or anything, right?”

You’re mad and embarrassed.

“I’m fine, Tim.”

His brow furrows. “You’ve been acting kind of strange lately,” he says.

You give him no answer, picking at your nail beds.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You narrow your eyes and grit your teeth. “I’m fine. It was just a bad day.”

He looks skeptical and eyes you blatantly. “You’ve been having a lot of those recently,” he starts, but you don’t let him continue.

“Whatever,” you snap, jumping down from the bed in the med bay. “You know, I don’t point out all of your missteps.”

You’re irritated, and more than that— you’re ashamed. Everyone in this family has witnessed something gruesome like you had a few weeks ago, and they continued on just fine. Why couldn’t you?

“Wait,” Tim stresses, voice filled with regret. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

A piece of your heart aches. You hardly ever fight with Tim. Though you may not be super close to him, you value his opinion. But now you’re suspicious of what he thinks of you. He’s obviously taken notice of your shortcomings.

You pace a few steps away from him, not quite looking at him as you toss over your shoulder, “I’m fine, Tim. Worry about yourself for once.”

He catches your arm with his hand, turning you around to face him. “Okay, now I know you’re not fine.”

You laugh, though you don’t know why. Nothing about this is funny to you. “Why do you care?” You ask, your words laced with irritation. “You never have before.”

Stop, you think to yourself. You’re clueless as to where this is even coming from. Have you always had these insecurities?

There’s hurt on his face, and it’s clear he’s trying to analyze your behavior so you rip your hand out of his grasp before he has the chance to.

“I’m just stressed about that stupid headline, Tim,” you lie easily, not giving away any of the usual body language while doing so. “So, drop it.”

You stalk off and hide in your room for the rest of the night, hating yourself for acting so stupid.

Tim didn’t hate. You knew that. Right?

The next night on patrol, you end up getting pistol whipped by one of Black Mask’s men. Your movements were too slow to block the strike— your body exhausted from the lack of sleep. Which lands you on the ground and seeing stars with a gun pressed against your temple.

Luckily, Red Hood was there to prevent the making of sidewalk art composed entirely of brain matter.

Your brain matter.

“Jesus,” he whistles low, hands tilting your head towards the streetlight to look at the purpling bruises on your cheekbone. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take such an avoidable hit this hard.”

His comment burns you, even without intention. It’s a meaningless jab, one that’d you normally laugh at and return in good nature. Tonight is different.

“Yeah, he caught me off guard, I guess,” you dismiss him, shoving his hand away.

Jason rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “Yeah, no shit. You’re lucky I was here tonight, or this would be an entirely different conversation.”

Shame claws through your chest, causing you to clench your jaw. You pull the hood of your cloak over your damp hair and grab your grappling hook, firing and swinging away before more can be said.

You don’t sleep that night, which is no surprise. The imprint of the cool barrel of the handgun has made a lasting impression on your mind. It’s a feeling you can’t shake, sending chills up your spine.

Even worse is the disappointment you’ve seen in everyone’s eyes recently. It leaves your skin crawling and your heart aching.

When you make your way to the Batcave the next evening, you find three of your brothers conversing around the mantle of the Batcomputer. Only Jason is suited up, but is maskless like the other two.

You briefly wonder where Bruce might be, before remembering that he’s on a JLA mission.

Damian is with Jon at the Kent Farm for the weekend, thankfully. You don’t think he’d let you live down one mistake after another.

The sound of your approach draws their attention to you, and each of them seems worried.

“Uh, hey guys,” you greet, a small awkward wave as you survey their body language. The smile on your lips is strained but you’re hoping it leaves a good impression nonetheless.

It doesn’t, of course.

Dick steps forward, the golden boy he is. “Hey, kiddo.” Kiddo, always ‘kiddo’ with him. “You seem a little run down recently. Everything alright?”

You could come clean and explain that you’ve been going weeks without proper sleep, earth shattering images haunting you around every corner. They might understand.

But then you look at the three of them and consider all that they’ve witnessed and lived through, and now you feel sick with shame.

How pathetic you are, for believing you’ve been having such a hard time when each of them has overcome major adversity.

So no, you’ll save yourself the embarrassment of admitting that you’re dealing with childish bad dreams.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you laugh with a shrug. “I’m fine.”

You catch eyes with Tim and you realize he must’ve brought this conversation about.

Dick reaches out a hand, setting it on your shoulder. “You know you can talk to us, right?” His tone is gentle and it’s almost enough to break your resolve.

Almost.

“Why are you all convinced something is wrong with me?” Lie, your mind says. Lie until you believe it too. “I have a few bad days and suddenly, I’m not good enough for you.”

“Woah,” Jason raises a hand in defense. “No one said that, kid.”

“No,” you agree, stepping out of Dick’s grasp, “but you’re all thinking it.”

“This!” Tim raises a hand and points an accusatory finger at you, looking from Dick to Jason with his brows raised. “This is exactly what I was talking about.”

A breath heaves from your lungs as you huff, face pulsing red with your embarrassment. “Oh, so you’re talking about me behind my back now?”

Tim levels you with an intense look. “I asked you what was wrong and you refused to tell me.”

“Because there’s nothing wrong,” you shout, your voice echoing throughout the cave. “God, why won’t you just believe me?”

You hate the way your voice cracks with the last statement. It’s obvious that you’re slipping.

“Hey,” Dick approaches you again, raising a hand placatingly, “Tim is just trying to help. We all are.”

Your fists are clenched, crescent-shaped marks digging into your palms. The air is so thick with tension that it is difficult to breathe.

“If you don’t tell us what’s going on, we’ll have no choice but to bench you.”

The speed at which you look up at Dick is breakneck. His jaw is set, eyebrows creased. Everything about him screams that he means business.

He’s dropped the ‘approachable-and-friendly-older-brother’ gig, branding himself the adult in the room.

“You can’t do that,” gasping, you thread your hands through your hair.

Dick folds his arms against his chest, raising his chin slightly. “I can,” he affirms, strong in his decision. “Bruce left me in charge and I know that he’d agree. You need to work through your issues before you can go back out on patrol.”

“That’s rich,” you snap, “coming from you of all people.”

Dick doesn’t take the bait of your harsh words. Continuing to stand solidly against you, he only raises his brows.

Tears come forth but they don’t fall from your eyes. You look at Jason and try to silently plead with him, but he seems just as content with this.

You tear your eyes away and trace them back to your eldest brother, looking him in the eyes. “Fine,” you concede, voice flat. You look back to Tim and glare. “I hope you’re happy.”

Confusion breaks across his face before fading into annoyance. “If it means you’re not out there being reckless— then yeah, I’m thrilled.”

You can’t control your eye roll as you scoff. “Whatever. How long is this prison sentence supposed to last, anyway?”

Dick tilts his head, something close to disappointment etched into his features. “This isn’t a punishment. You need time to decompress. Something is clearly bothering you.”

You blink at him. Whatever answer he’s searching for, you’re not giving it to him.

“Look, kid,” Jason stalks forward, his hands on his hips. “You can either save yourself the trouble and tell us now, or we’ll just wait you out. Your choice.”

“Why would I tell you guys anything?” You spit, your words setting the air around you ablaze. “You’ll only judge me even more than you already do.”

Jason shakes his head, denying it. “You know it isn’t like that.”

“Yeah,” Tim interjects. “When have we ever judged you?”

You sneer at him. “What do you think you’re doing right now, genius?”

“We’re trying to look out for you,” he snaps back, “like brothers.”

There’s a lump in your throat. And you can’t clear it. You face away from them, tears stinging your eyes. They were trying to help you and you couldn’t even let them in.

You shake your head, “You’ll be waiting awhile, then, because the only thing wrong with me is being suffocated by your constant worrying.”

The shock on their faces is evident as you take your leave, stomping up the stairs and into the manor. You regret your words, wishing that you had just come clean. It was clear that they cared about you, that maybe your insecurities were lying to you.

But what if they weren’t? What if they weren’t just insecurities?

“I know you’re angry with me,” Tim begins, following behind you down the hall toward your room— you had failed to notice his presence, “but we’re just worried about you. I’m worried about you.”

You stop at the door to your room but you don’t enter. Nor do you look at Tim.

“I hear you at night.”

That grabs your attention. Your eyes snap to him and his face is sympathetic, not judgemental. It’s worrisome, not hateful.

“What?” You ask, breathless.

“The nightmares,” he reiterates. “You aren’t able to sleep because of them.”

It’s not a question— you realize that he knows this to be true. It makes sense. He’s a detective, just like the rest of the family, but Tim is different.

He discovered the identities of both Batman and Nightwing, all on his own. Simply because he wanted to. And he obviously wanted to know what was causing you to behave this way.

“It started a few weeks ago,” you admit bashfully, voice barely above a whisper.

Tim frowns, brows lowered. “Professor Pyg.”

You nod, eyes vacant and unfocused. “All I can hear, when I close my eyes, are their screams. And then I think, ‘I could’ve gotten there faster.’”

A humorless laugh escapes your lips and your flies to cover your mouth, startled by it.

Tim reaches out, grabs your free hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “You did the best that you could.”

Your somber eyes meet his, just before tugging your hand away. “And it still wasn’t enough.”

His expression falls as you slip away and into your room, hiding from the shadows of the manor and from the guilt you couldn’t possibly hope to outrun.

A/N: Sorry for, like, a crap ton of angst. Okay, I’m not sorry. It’s what I’m best at, unfortunately. Would yall be interested in a pt2?

[riaaanna]

‘Brian’s grandkids call me "Nana Neet"’

Anita Dobson on her favourite festive memories, finding fame overnight and why she’s a homebody at heart.

Anita is step mum to Brian’s three children

The festive season is fast approaching, and it wouldn’t be Christmas without an onslaught of feel-good films. While many of us will no doubt be sitting down to watch Nativity, Love Actually or The Holiday, there’s a new corker coming this year too. Entitled Christmas at the Holly Day Inn, it’s a family-friendly, multi-generational romantic comedy about an over-achieving executive who quits her job just before Christmas and goes to her father’s country inn to try to find some balance. Her father is played by former Dr Who Colin Baker, while his love interest is played by ex ‐EastEnder, Anita Dobson.

“We all need dreams and a bit of magic in our lives, don’t we?” Anita (74) tells Yours. “This film is perfect for the festive season. I’m playing a lovely character called Molly, who runs a café in the village where Holly Day Inn is situated. She has a soft spot for Ben, played by Colin Baker.”

Back in the real world, Anita – or Lady May – is looking forward to sharing Christmas with her husband, Queen guitarist Brian May (76). She’s also excited to spend time with his grandchildren – and his children, James, Louisa and Emily, from his marriage to first wife Christine Mullen.

“I thoroughly enjoy being a step-grandma to Brian’s seven grandchildren,” she tells us. “They range in age from late teens down to about five. They call me ‘Nana Neet’ – Neet is what friends and family call me.”

Anita and Brian live in rural Surrey, but the star grew up in London and she says her most memorable Christmas was when she got a red bicycle. “I must have been about seven,” she recalls. “I’d desperately wanted a bike – a few of the other kids in our flats had one, but mum and dad didn’t have much money. I couldn’t bear not knowing if I was going to get one, and I needed to prepare myself for disappointment, so in the early hours of Christmas Day morning, I crept into the living room to see. There it was by the tree – my red bicycle. I can’t begin to tell you how thrilled I was. I went back to bed and when we got up, I pretended it was a big surprise.”

It’s hard to think of Anita and Christmas without recalling her iconic episode of EastEnders on December 25, 1986. Her character Angie Watts was served divorce papers by her philandering husband, Den, and the drama pulled in an extraordinary 30 million viewers. “If you do something that captures the imagination the way that EastEnders and Angie and Den did, you have to be proud of it,” says Anita, who recently starred in Doctor Who and a new series of Inside No.9. “I’m very proud of it. Thirty million viewers? Not bad, is it!”

Anita and Brian with family at his investiture earlier this year

While Angie and Den were famously fiery on screen, Anita says she and the late Leslie Grantham got along famously. “There was an instant rapport,” she says. “Leslie was amazing to work with because we never discussed it. He used to say, ‘Your mouth shuts, mine opens. My mouth shuts, yours opens.’ We knew exactly how to cover each other’s backs. It was remarkable.

“Playing Angie completely and utterly changed my life. I went from 0 to 100 practically overnight. Before EastEnders, I’d been a jobbing actress for a long time and then suddenly this gift of a role landed into my lap. Everything changed.

“The lady who ran the corner shop near where I lived in the real East End told me the bloke who lived across the road from me had been given a camera by the press and instructed to take a picture every time I opened my front door. I couldn’t believe it! It was like a rocket had taken off and I just had to hold on and wait until it landed.”

Which it did – to a certain extent – when Anita (74) decided to leave the soap in 1988. Her legacy lives on, though, and these days she says she is lucky enough to pick and choose her jobs.

“I don’t tend to do theatre tours which would mean me being away from home for prolonged periods, because I love where we live and our house and I want to spend lots of time there,” she reveals. “I always said that I would leave this life ‘in harness’ – as in still acting – but now I’m not so sure. I don’t plan on retiring but it’s true that these days, I only take jobs that interest me.”

Christmas at the Holly Day Inn is released November 6, 2023 on various streaming platforms.

From Yours magazine November 2023.

[retropopcult]

"Thirteen" is a song by American rock band Big Star.  Rolling Stone describes it "one of rock's most beautiful celebrations of adolescence", and rated it #396 on their list of the 500 greatest songs of all time. It was written by Alex Chilton and Chris Bell.

The name of the album was #1 Record, which was bitterly ironic, as it ended up selling under 10,000 copies upon its initial release in 1972 (the name of the band also proved to be an unfortunate misnomer, because outside of critics and other musicians, they remained virtually anonymous during their brief time together).

Bell and Chilton wanted to emulate the Lennon/McCartney formula as much as they could, so they shared credit on many of their songs even though there was in fact little writing collaboration between the two. “Thirteen" was in fact entirely Chilton’s creation, and he also delivers the aching vocal that vacillates between hope and heartache and that many cover versions have tried to emulate but never quite matched.

The yearning acoustic ballad focuses on an age that is somewhat underrepresented in pop and rock music. Chilton found that bittersweet spot when innocence still lingers but more complicated emotions start to work their way into the picture.

Over tender guitars, he begins with a question that thirteen-year-old boys have been asking thirteen-year-old girls for generations: “Won’t you let me walk you home from school?” “Won’t you let me meet you at the pool?” he follows, again treading lightly so as not to scare her away. He eventually suggests a date at the dance on Friday; “And I’ll take you,” Chilton delicately sings, as if anything more forceful than a gentle plea will destroy his chances.

In the second verse, the narrator for the first time reveals an obstacle blocking the path to this girl for whom he is clearly falling hard: “Won’t you tell your Dad get off my back?” he asks her. His response to the doubting father is brilliant: “Tell him what we said about ‘Paint It Black.’” By drawing a parallel between his own musical tastes and that of the father, he’s hoping to show that he’ s not just some punk kid with bad intentions.

The final verse finds him struggling as she remains seemingly unknowable (“Won’t you tell me what you’re thinking of?”) resulting in his sweet but awkward follow up (“Would you be an outlaw for my love?”) His final lines redeem him in terms of his integrity and honor, even as they suggest that he’ s losing his opportunity with her in the process: “If it’ s no then I can go/ I won’ t make you.” The final “Ooo-hoo” that Chilton utters is a real killer, tinged as it is with the sting of implied refusal.

Over the decades there have been some fine cover versions of this classic, with brilliant and diverse artists like Garbage, Wilco, and Elliott Smith taking their turns, among many others. But they’d likely all agree they were playing for second behind Chilton’s one-of-a-kind, haunting performance. “Thirteen” is as good as it gets for those looking to relive that moment when life is still rife with possibilities but love seems stubbornly impossible.

Music critic Simon Robinson rates it as Big Star's best song and one of the most important of 1972, praising the "catchy melody and jangly guitars that perfectly capture the carefree and optimistic spirit of youth" and the "simple yet poignant" lyrics that evoke the "experience of teenage romance and heartbreak."

[hunterssm00n]

Nature of the Beast

Yandere! Stalker! Soldier 76 au

It's only natural to free the animal...

*cw include stalking, yandere behavior, obsession, talks of abduction, and cliffhanger*

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

hunterssm00n © All rights reserved by me. I do not allow this work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

He’s watching me.

I know he’s there. I don’t need to see him to be sure; I can sense his presence, just like I know he can sense mine. It sounds dramatic as hell, but it’s like we’re connected, somehow. He knows me, just like I know him, intrinsically and without any other explanation. Even though we’ve only known each other a short time, that’s how it is.

He’s always watching. I can barely walk down the street or turn a corner without feeling his gaze on me.

I feel it especially now, sitting in my car outside of my apartment complex. It was a constant game; can I make it into the safety of the doors of my building before he catches me? He hadn't been so bold as to enter my home, yet. My one safe place, though I don't doubt at all that he has watched my windows from his own safe space in the shadows. He also hasn't seriously attempted to capture me, either, but every day I know he is growing more and more impatient. Every day, I wonder if this will be the day that he finally snaps; the day he finally decides to just go for it. 

What will he do to me once he finally catches me? I have no idea. As much as I don't want to admit it, I am drawn to him, as well. Who is he? What is it about me that has him so damn obsessed? 

What does he truly want from me?

The fact that this has been my nightly ritual for the past few weeks is almost inhumane. Is this how animals feel when they’re being hunted? I dart through the parking lot like a scared rabbit, and I know the wolf is watching; waiting for the perfect moment to attack. 

My breath comes out in quick puffs as I run quickly but carefully across the slick pavement, practically feeling his hot breath on the back of my neck.

Almost there. I cuss inwardly at my landlord for giving me one of the farthest parking spots away from the complex - telling me it’s because I’m young and spry! 

Somewhere nearby a car alarm goes off, and my steps falter as I whip my head around to see where the noise is coming from. 

That’s a mistake. 

He’s on me in an instant, his warmth engulfing me. I sense it even before he grabs me, and he does so with a full body capture that has my breath whooshing out of my chest as he tightly pulls me back against his hard body. One large hand comes up to cover my mouth, and the moment I feel his arms wrap around me, I seize up, fight or flight kicking in overdrive, and I begin struggling in his too strong grip, but to no avail. My cry of surprise is muffled by his gloved palm, his big hand practically engulfing the lower half of my face, and I lurch in his arms to try and throw him off balance. I am no match for him. He's too... everything. Too strong, too fast, too prepared for this.

And I know now that he has me exactly where he wants me. 

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

this is an excerpt from what will be a full length story on ao3 - link will be provided soon

I do not own the song ‘Nature of the Beast' by My Darkest Days. The above pictures are from pinterest and there’s a link attached to the original post.

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Could I get #64 with Bridget from Guilty Gear please?

P.S. I swear I wasn’t camping your page •^•

A pleasure to have you, and my first Bridget request! I love this silly British girl so much.

And don't worry, I totally 100% believe you! Definitely! Without a doubt!

NOW! YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND!

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Look! I finally got that trick to work!” Bridget exclaimed as she burst into the main room of the guild and grabbed you by the collar to drag you outside.

After all, she wasn’t allowed to use her Yo-yo’s inside anymore after her last “Incident”, still hard to believe that the God Killing Flame Of Corruption was nearly put in the ground by a girl with Yo-Yo’s as opposed to any of the thousand other things that it could’ve been.

Still, no one could stay angry with her for long, even Mr. Bad Guy didn’t stay unhappy with her for too long.

That being said, you did have to wonder why in the world she always wanted to show her new tricks to you.

You, of course weren’t going to say anything about that, Bridget is considered one of the prettiest and most popular Bounty Hunters alive right now for a reason after all, and oddly the one with the biggest fan club, but the question was still floating around in your head.

Oh, it looks like the two of you were coming to a stop.

Wait, where was Roger?

“Alright! Let's go! Roger, you're up!” Bridget exclaimed as she pointed her hand into the air in the shape of a finger gun and twirled around 

You were then tackled by a very large, very possessed stuffed bear.

“Wha-! Roger? Bridget!? HUH! WHAT’S GOING ON!”

“What’s going on is that you have a bounty on your head that I intend to collect!” Bridget said with a smile.

“What! A Bounty!? I don’t even have an overdue parking ticket! How do I have a bounty!” you screamed in your head.

“Yup! A bounty! It's a real big one too!” Bridget said as she reached behind herself and pulled out what was most definitely not official Bounty Hunter Guild stationary.

In fact it looked like a piece of spare paper that Bridget had gone to great lengths to make as paradoxically Bounty Hunter worthy and as completely unprofessional as possible.

It could almost be described as art due to how fine the line between both were.

Bridget then shoved said paper into your face.

It had a picture of you glued to the front and rather fine handwriting on it that read.

“Criminal wanted for thievery: Reward For Capture 100,000,000 World Dollars -Or- A Date With The Criminal.”

It took you quite a bit longer than you would like to admit to realize what this was.

Bridget, The Bridget, was asking you on a date.

Well… ain't that a kick to the head?

You let out a sigh before “Bridget, you know there are less dramatic ways to ask someone out right?”

“Yup! But I want to make myself memorable!” Bridget said with a laugh.

“Someone as beautiful as you wouldn’t have to worry about that.” You told her with a deadpan look.

It took Bridget quite a bit longer than she would like to admit to realize what you just said to her.

[epicocat]

I realized i haven’t been giving any GunplUpdates to the, like, 3 people that care, so I’ll just do a quick review of the nine kits I’ve built since the Zeong

Real Grade Sazabi

Probably one of the best RG kits I’ve built so far, at least in recent memory. It’s big, it’s articulate, it’s detailed, I love it!

High Grade Gundam NT-1, AKA Gundam Alex

This one was certainly an older kit. It builds the same as any other HG RX clone, and absolutely needs panel lining with all the molded details (good thing I picked up a pen recently). However, despite all its limitations, the HG Gundam Alex turned out better than I expected, and poses quite nicely!

I’m not at all biased because we have the same name :P

High Grade Mobile Doll May (Gundam Base Color)

This is probably my first official step into the Mecha Masume genre of model kits, but not my first girlpla (I’ve built the Figure Rise Sulleta Mercury the Artery Gear Fusion Guard Spider Feidy kit [highly recommend] before either of them). I doubt I‘ll end up buying anything more scandalous than this, I really don’t care for the half naked robot girls of Frame Arm Girls or Megami Device.

That all being said, this was a really fun kit! It was my first run with waterslide decals, and I think they turned out… mostly ok. The articulation is really good, the sculpting is well detailed (especially in the areas meant for other fans) and I just like kits that come with stands.

I will say, i do not and will not understand the appeal of battle stilettos (it’s hard to see in the pic but her feet are basically pointed straight down in the heels she’s wearing)

Sakura’s Edge

Another of my few non Bandai kits, Sakura comes from the Armored Puppet line of kits from Number 57. It’s another 1/24th scale kit, which means she is very very smol. Her most stand out feature is her third giant buster-arm, capable of wielding a sword twice her height. The bright pink, gold, and white go really well together, and she just looks really nice! Unfortunately her armor is more of an afterthought from the creators, as some parts need to be filed and trimmed excessively to get them to fit (I was in a VC with a friend, he can testify I was almost brought down by the shoes), and other parts just sit loose, ready to pop right off after the slightest tap, touch, or pinch.

30 Minute Missions Spinatia (Commando Type)

This kit was my intro to 30MM and I wish I bought more of them sooner! It was a cheap impulse purchase from a “local” hobby store I was checking out and it was a really enjoyable experience! It was simple and relatively fast (I failed the mission, it took me an hour), but using all the extra parts and mixing and matching equipment was so fun to play around with and experiment with what looks cool, something I hope to see more of as I build more Hexa Gear kits. In the meantime though, I have a 30 Minute Custom to plan >:3c

Transparent SD Gundam and Char’s Zaku II

I dont own many SD kits, and I think these are some more I’ll snag more of as I shop around. They’re simple and cute! They’re both Cross Silhouettes, but only the Zaku came with the CS frame, so the Gundam is just really squat and even more chibi in comparison. Overall not much to write home about, but still fun!

High Grade Gundam Maxter

The only red white and blue I’ll ever stand for

That being said, this was a really great kit! It’s a shame it’s P-Bandai limited, along with Gundam Rose. It absolutely needs panel lining for its literal abs of steel and face, but it still looks quite nice. It’s very articulate and it was hard to pick just one photo that truly sums up the insanity of Gundam Maxter, perfectly captured in gunpla form. It comes with everything seen in the picture, along with its flying surfboard shield, guns, and an effect part for its bursting machinegun punch. It is such a great kit, and comes with enough ham to justify its $30 price tag, despite the fact that Maxter is in fact very small.

High Grade Messer F-01

I love The messer’s design. It feels like a true successor to the Zaku series of suits. I know canonically it’s built off of the Sazabi, but it’s design is 100% Zaku. It’s got that respirator like mouthpiece, and the spiky asymmetric shoulder armor. Is just so cool! And did I mention this things size yet? It, like it’s predecessor are big boys, snd both stand almost as tall as many master grade gunpla in my collection. Overall an amazing kit!

[darlingshane]

the bet

Griff x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 1,2k

Summary: You should know better than to bet against your boyfriend, Griff. You fall for it every time without missing a beat, no matter the consequences.

Content/Warnings: explicit, smut, betting, making out, fingering, overstimulation, handcuffs, squirting.

A/N: This was made for Wet Wednesday @bernthirst-events, and was mostly inspired by this picture.

– Read below or at AO3.

As a general rule, you try not to bet against your boyfriend Griff. He's a sore loser and a smug winner and, no matter the outcome, you always end up regretting playing his games.

Tonight the stakes are high, however, and you really couldn't let this opportunity pass cause If you win he has to remove the horrendous teardrop tattoo off his face that you cannot stand looking at; and if he wins, he gets to pick your next tattoo.

There's absolutely no doubt that you have this in the bag, because the bet consists in whoever comes first during sex— loses.

History can tell that, with a few exceptions, out of all the times you've fucked 98% of those Griff has always reached climax first. You know exactly what he likes, and you just have to use all your charms and dirty tricks to get him there quickly.

For starters, you indulge him for a moment and let him pick up a sharpie to draw the design he wants you to ink directly on his chosen spot, your ass, if he wins.

After laying on your front, he straddles the back of your thighs, and pushes the elastic of your pink panties to the side, exposing your butt cheek. Right on that space, he traces a heart with an arrow and a ‘G’ for Griff inside the heart shape.

You stand up for a moment to take a look at your temporary tattoo in the mirror. There's no chance in hell you're having that permanently inked on your skin, so you better bring your A game.

So going back to bed, you take off your shirt as you crawl over his lower half until you're completely lying on top of him, and start making out casually, lowering his defenses while slightly waving your hips against his crotch, only covered by a pair of boxer briefs.

His rough fingers slide under the waistband of your underwear, molding your ass to the shape of his big hands, pressing you harder against him.

Keeping your focus on the prize, you disregard his bulge growing bigger between your legs, and keep exploring his mouth for a while, giving him just enough to crave more and more. When he’s fully hard, you pull back, straighten your torso and tap his lips with your index finger before running your finger nails down his chest.

As you mark his skin, taming the beast, he heavily exhales and twitches underneath you. It works every time. He grunts louder when you do it one more time, and lean forward to use your tongue on his nipple. Aware of how wildly turns him on, you trace the small circumference with just the tip of your tongue before using your teeth to nibble gently.

“You’re so dirty,” he grumbles as your mouth travels across his clean-shaven chest to the other nipple.

You let out a small chuckle, sticking your tongue out to draw the shape of that hard peak resting on top of his toned pectoral. You flick it, lick it, and bite a little harder this time.

“So fucking dirty,” he keeps protesting, but the erection tucked against your core tells you how much he’s enjoying that.

“Yeah? You don’t like my methods, hotshot?” biting your lower lip, you pull back, and brace your palms on his abdomen, waving your hips sensually against his.

“I like’em alright. Just don’t complain when I use my tricks on you.”

“Tricks? You don’t have any tricks,” you scoff.

“We’ll see about that. C’mere, baby,” he licks his lips as his eyes viciously roam all over your body before pulling you down to your former position on top of him.

One of his hands cradles the back of your head, as he captures your lips with such force that almost knocks all the air out of you. Then, you feel his arms locking around you as he swiftly shifts your body, so you’re the one laying on your back instead.

In that position, he’s the one in charge now driving his hips against your pussy with nothing but wicked perversion, as he eagerly defiles your mouth. Your panties get soaked in seconds, and it’s just the perfect opportunity for him to use that as a distraction. Getting lost in the dizzying swirling of his tongue, you fall right into his trap like an idiot and don't even register at all when he grabs your wrists and brings them over your head to cuff them to the headboard. It’s when you hear the metal closing that you break the kiss and tilt your head back to see your hands tied to the bars.

“What the hell are you doing?” you complain, trying to yank your hands free while he swiftly slips your underwear off you.

His lips turn into the most devilish of grins you have ever seen, “showing you my tricks, baby.”

Your brow creases as he brings the delicate fabric of your panties up to his nose, lewdly humming as he inhales your scent, “hmm, you always smell so beautiful.”

Then he tosses them away and soothes the plane of your thighs with his palms, parting your legs before having two of his thick fingers shoved into your opening.

“Griff… this wasn’t on the rules,” you moan, trying to kick him, but he uses his free hand and one of his legs to keep you from doing so.

“What rules? You didn’t say anything about rules,” his fingers working you with a hard steady pace, “you said, and I quote– anything goes.”

“You’re a fucking jerk, Griffin!” you cry out as your back arches, when his thumb starts rubbing harshly on your clit.

“Look at you, so desperate already. You thought you could own me, huh? That’s cute.” He laughs like the asshole that he is.

“Shut up,” you mutter under your breath as his fingers keep sinfully fucking you, unwavering, going in and out, caressing your walls, pressing in your g-spot, collecting your slick, and building your orgasm quickly.

“You want me to stop? Say it and you lose. Last more than five minutes, and maybe I’ll let you win.”

“Start counting, asshole,” you utter between clenched teeth, accepting his challenge.

Maybe you were too cocky earlier. Right now– you’re doomed. It’s too much to hold and all you wanna do is burst, but you try clenching every muscle for as long as you can until every inch of your body aches.

When you reach a point where you feel you’re going to pee over his hand, you can only squirm and curse at his name as he stops rubbing your overly sensitive clit, and doubles down, putting all his power on pressing on that sweet spot inside to free that orgasm from the prison that is your lower abdomen.

The obscene wet sounds that come from your cunt being vehemently finger-fucked fill the room, along with the unbridled sounds of lust that fall from your mouth. He then releases your leg and presses his other hand on your mound to quicken the process until you completely fall apart and all your fluids gush out unexpectedly, squirting all over his hand and arm and the sheets beneath your body as you're taken by a torrent of pleasure that courses through every cell of your body, elevating you to a higher ground.

He might have won the bet, but you clearly take a victory on basking in that intoxicating buzz as you come down from your high, knowing that there’s no chance you’re fucking him tonight now for playing that dirty.

[simslegacy5083]

Today's (10/28/2024) Episode: Game, Developed

After Noemi and Luigi helped Skye deal with his new diagnoses it was finally time for them to celebrate a big personal milestone of their own.

“Well today’s the day, are you ready?” Noemi asked her husband “Honestly, yes and no” he replied, “its amazing to think that this dream of mine is coming true, but I’m terrified that its going to be a flop. I’d hate to go down in history as a failure.” Especially considering what I sacrificed to get here he thought to himself, gently making a fist under the table with his “bum” right hand.

“I highly doubt its going to fail” she said “I know I’m biased but, seriously, Watcher Tales is good. Now let’s go get ready for the launch party!”

“What should I wear!?” Luigi mused nervously as they entered the bedroom “I want to look professional, but grounded, put together but not overdressed. It’s tough.”

Noemi bit her tongue to keep from laughing. She walked up behind him and placed a hand firmly on his lower back. “I can help you find the perfect outfit” she whispered in his ear, “but before we get you dressed up, maybe getting undressed would help calm both our nerves…”

Luigi pulled her in, surrendering to her hungry kisses. It wasn’t the best woohoo they’d ever had, but when they emerged a few minutes later he couldn’t deny he was feeling calmer “Now my butt is sore” he groused, grinning “but it was totally worth it. Let’s do this thing!”

The Watcher Tales launch party was being held in Del Sol Valley and sponsored by UnorthoBox, one of the largest gaming console manufacturers in the nation. The game would be launching for both PC and, exclusively, on the new UnorthoBox 2 gaming system for console.

Exiting the teleporter just outside the conference center where the event was being held Luigi fired up Yoshi to capture some footage of the launch party. Grabbing Noemi’s hand, he took a deep breath and headed inside where his friends, family, and fans were all eagerly awaiting their arrival.

Luigi took his place in front of a wall of pictures featuring high-res images captured from the game itself, while Noemi settled nearby at a small table offering hard copies and digital codes of Watcher Tales for purchase.

Luigi was in his element, his natural cheerful enthusiasm on full display as talked up his “masterpiece”. He kept Noemi busy, sending a constant stream of fans and gamers to her table to buy first release copies of their game.

Luigi and his wife weren’t the only ones working hard to make the launch party a raging success.

Rather than hiring an unknown sim of questionable skill to man the bar Luigi had asked his grandpa Don to do the honors, and he’d gladly agreed.

Nearby Denton and Cullen were streaming a demonstration of Watcher Tales primary multiplayer features to their fans. Across the room a long rows of PCs had been setup, giving sims attending the release party a chance to “try before you buy”. Many of Luigi’s friends and family had settled there to show their support and see the game he couldn’t stop talking about.

Noemi was thrilled with how quickly copies of the game were selling, but as the afternoon wore on, she found herself feeling a bit overwhelmed.

Shutting her eyes for a moment in between customers, she suddenly heard the familiar and oh so welcome voice of her friend Amaya. “How you holding up pretty momma? The girls and I just arrived, and our kids are out back playing with your little one.”

“Honestly, I could use a break” Noemi told her. “The launch is going great, but this crowd is a bit too much for me.”

“Say no more!” Amaya replied, gesturing for her to rise “I sell nectar from the ranch every weekend at the market in Eco Harbor; I can handle hocking Hot Stuff’s pride and joy for a bit. Go give your boy a kiss and say hello to the ladies.” Noemi sighed with relief, heading out to sunny, quiet, playground.

Luigi merely chuckled when he noticed that his old flame had relieved his wife at the sales table. The meet and greet line shut down shortly after that and when one of his favorite songs started playing on the stereo system Luigi decided to give his fans a little show to thank them for coming.

“My fellow gamers” he announced “you inspired Watcher Tales, and your support means the world. I hope you’ll help me end this party in style!”

He found a small patch of open floor and began an impromptu dance party, gesturing for everyone to join him. As he danced along with the other happy sims celebrating the game’s launch, he silently hoped he’d find as much success as he’d enjoyed that day in the days to come.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[howdoyousleep3]

Oh, I love the prompt lists idea! Maybe #26 on the sweet list, creating art inspired by them, with Stevie Baby and Daddy James?

Or whatever pairing you want, I'll love it either way!

Thanks for helping me procrastinate at work 😄😄

Steve's palms begin to sweat.

"It's...I know I took some liberties in going as far as...as hanging them up in your office, but—"

"Hush."

James' voice is barely above a whisper, but it silences Steve in an instant. He's never getting James another present, not a gift that is entirely a surprise. It wasn't worth the hassle, it wasn't worth going behind James' back and getting Natasha's help. It wasn't worth this moment, where James stands in front of the four drawings, critiquing them.

"Everyone out," James says then, not taking his eyes off of his work. Steve glances up from the floor and watches as Natasha and James' secretary, Darcy, look over at him in surprise. While Darcy's eyes remain on him, full of sympathy, Natasha's shoot to James'.

"Джеймс, не будь так строг с ребенком. Это особенное, он—"

"вне," James says then, louder this time and with a wave of his hand. Steve doesn't know that word and he can't decipher that tone. He shrugs his shoulders at Darcy and looks back down at the floor. He wipes his hands on his jeans, wrings his fingers rather roughly right after.

Fuck, he completely misread the situation. How did this happen? He really thought Daddy would—

"Steven," James murmurs, steps slow and purposeful and in his direction. "Sweet boy..."

He doesn't respond, can't with that tone of voice, that one that makes him break and break hard. It tells him right away he hasn't done anything wrong, that he's done the right thing.

Hands reach for him with a grip that is intense, that is knowing, that brings with it the reassurance he needs. A hand under his chin, tipping it up, and then both big, capable hands cupping his neck. Daddy kisses him with his eyes open, eyes the color of a summer storm, brewing and moody, so very James.

"You are...so fucking perfect."

Oh...oh no.

"You are— no, look at me— you're everything. Look at what you've done for me, Steven. Look at this. You drew these for me, you finally did it. How did I get so lucky, bein' your Daddy? Huh?"

The relief he feels is immeasurable. The pleasure Daddy's praise brings him washes over him and his mind in one large wave, warm and satisfying. With it goes his self-doubt, his anxieties, his worries. In its place comes the deepest feeling of love and worthiness. And just the tiniest amount of shame for even thinking that James wouldn't like his present.

This time when Daddy kisses him, it's with obvious and mounting emotion.

"Tell me about them, tell me, baby," James whispers against his lips, not bothering to turn around and look at the art itself, hands still cupping Steve's neck. Steve whimpers.

"That...that one on the left is the picture I took off...off the coast of Lake C-Como last summer, the one you had as your...your lockscreen for a while."

James kisses him.

"Mhmm..."

"And the...the one on the far right is from...from a picture I took from in front of the fire at the cabin."

"Mmm, we love that cabin, don't we?" James asks, nipping at Steve's bottom lip. He whimpers again and chooses not to answer since it's such an obvious one.

"The umm...the second one is that selfie I took when I set the...the camera up on the beach in Mexico..."

"And...?"

This one.

This one is the one that Steve is reluctantly most proud of. He's never drawn himself, a self portrait, but he knows it's the one that Daddy would want the most. And it does look quite good, Steve capturing his disheveled, marked up body tangled in the bedsheets perfectly.

"Tell me about that one," James demands, pushy as he damn near growls his command out. Steve swallows, pursing his lips against Daddy's.

"That's me," he whispers, as if James doesn't know. He wants to hear it anyway. "That's me, a...a picture I took after you left for work one...one morning. I used my umm...my tripod."

"I love you," James tells him after a few beats of silence. "I love you so fucking much."

Steve smiles as he lets himself be pulled into another set of passionate, wet kisses, as he lets himself enjoy them in full now that the surprise has been shared and explained.

"Happy Birthday, Daddy..."

[ultraericthered]

When some fool interjects onto one of my posts (responding to someone else) about Disney's Wish discourse:

Okay. Just for clarification. I am an English major and I am only a semester away from having an associates. Breaking down movies and books is a hobby and a past time. So here are my thoughts.

Oh, so immediately this "clarification" doesn't sound very humble.

Without a doubt whether or not you consider this to be good or bad is opinion. It's debatable. I personally fall on the side of not liking it. I see why people can like it and I'm not gonna dox people for liking it. It's definitely one of those movies where you could "theoretically" like and enjoy despite it's multitude of flaws.

Wow, this is a mature, civil, level-headed and reasonable tone to take, and for a rational statement! You almost never see that on social media! I'll give this good sir or miss props for that. Will it last?

The plot was overall basic and uninspired.

Unfortunately yes, it absolutely was. Not one of the film's stronger qualities, I'm afraid, and with such a solid, captivating premise too!

What I mean by this is this... The plot was a carbon copy of other ideas and thoughts previously done from their other works. While this is not necessarily a bad thing, for this movie it brings it down BECAUSE it relies too heavily on them.

✓Sweet dreamy eye protagonist who is so sweet that everybody loves her

✓ talking animal side kick who provides comedic relief

✓wishing on a star

✓ female leading crying on an inanimate object because something didn't go her way

✓evil villain

✓magic saving the day

Nice checklist. Again, nothing too disagreeable so far....

These are all not necessarily bad. In fact these are good ideas to have. We have seen them before. AND THAT'S THE PROBLEM

Oh no. Is this Doug Walker argument really rearing its ugly head? A work of art or entertainment is allowed to derive from earlier made works of art or entertainment as sources of inspiration and creative intake but are not permitted to straight up repeat ideas, scenarios, plot beats and character archetypes "we have all seen before" in other works, at least not without "adding anything new of its own"?

Call me crazy, but I think Disney was heavily considering not only children born in the late 2010s, but also the current 2020s-born generation when putting this picture together. A bunch of youngsters who might've not once seen anything like what's featured in this movie before in their early years, which would make this their first big exposure to Disney animated fairy tales just as the animated fairy tales of old were the first exposure to children of those films' eras. Because every time a type of story is retold and ideas are recycled into that story could be someone's first time. That is a fact of life.

I understand that uniquemess and originality are hard to come by nowadays. I'm a writer and original ideas are the hardest to find. What you have to do is take those old ideas and make them new. What Disney did was not make these old tired tropes their own, they rehashed them and expected us to go, "Oh! That's just like this movie!"

It makes the movie lose its own voice. This movie is too wrapped up in references and tropes they've used before to try and capture nostalgia, that wonder they used to have. What made those movies so special was the heart and care that went into them. This is Disney's 100 anniversary, but instead it feels like Disney's catch 100 references to when we were a better and a more creative studio.

This would be speaking to the side of the movie that was NOT geared towards the kids, however. The side of the movie that, because it's a celebratory centennial milestone event, caters to longtime hardcore Disney fans who will immediately get all the references, recognize the homages and callbacks, spot all the little Easter Eggs thrown all over the film. I've said before that I do not believe Disney should've put so much attention and effort into this side of the movie compared to the original story, especially when they made Once Upon A Studio to better serve the centennial celeberation purposes, and that they did so was a huge mistake, being easily the movie's biggest handicap.

Why is this bad? Well don't I have the answer for you!

Alrighty then, thanks again for the honesty!

They HAD a beautiful story!! The idea and premise for this movie is probably my favorite thing but the execution from a professional and eye is awful! You cannot look at this movie and tell me that it is the Mona Lisa when it is nothing but a carbon Copy of what once was.

No disagreement there. I pray this fellow's not seen the concept art and all the information floating around about what we might've had.

It was done in a manner that was so half hearted and so clearly a cash grab they practically insult themselves. The plot was predictable and falls flat.

I love how the second sentence reads like a non sequitur to the first. I've heard the "half-hearted, cynical and desperate cash grab" accusations and I don't quite think they're accurate. I think this was a production that began with a lot of heart and care put into what everyone was designing and realizing in order to make a worthy new original Disney fairy tale for the 100th year mark, but ended with micro-managing corporate stooges "doctoring" the scripting, the scoring, the pacing (via editing), and the overall presentation of the work to turn out something safe and crowd-pleasing that hits off as much Disney quota as possible. Again, for the 100th year mark. And so what we ended up with was what I've called a "beautiful mess."

The villain was interesting at first! He was giving me a similar two sidedness as Frollo and then the back track his character by throwing in an evil maguffin to make him evil because it is clear to anyone who knows basic plot structure that it was rushed and they didn't know what else to do to progress the story. WE COULD HAVE HAD ANOTHER FROLLO WITH HIM, BUT WE GOT A HALF HEARTED GASTON!

This is starting to ramble, but I'll try to make sense of it. For one thing, I do not think Magnifico was ever at any point of the film's development set to be like "another Frollo". His core influences clearly come from Queen Grimhilde, Maleficent, Gaston, and Jafar. And the evil maguffin was not "thrown in to make him evil" - the tome of forbidden dark magic was set up as a Chekov's Gun earlier in the picture because it was what would be A: what would make Magnifico such a formidable threat to everyone, and B: what would serve as the catalyst for Magnifico to break his bonds of well-meaning rationale and discard the mask of mental and moral soundness. The prompt for him to turn to it was very rushed, yes, and his backstory and motivations behind his possessiveness, paranoia, and iron-fisted tendencies needed to be better set up and conveyed prior to this turn. I will not dispute that. But Magnifico, both in his own character arc and in how his spiral into villainy progresses the story, is so much more than "half hearted Gaston", and it really ain't nothing to do with "knowing basic plot structure" or whatever pretentious rhetoric is being used as criticism here.

Speaking of Gaston: You mentioned that The king being shoehorned in as a villain was like saying Gaston was shoehorned. I have an explanation for this. The reason why...

Yeah? What's the reason why?

Now I hope I don't loose you here. This will get a little difficult...

WHAT'S THE REASON WHY? GET ON WITH IT!

In order to PROPERLY set up a character, this goes for Asha too (more on her later), you have to set up their character and what they are about in the first 5-10 minutes they are on screen. In the movie what we are told is that the king is noble and loves his people. There was no shadow of a doubt if this. And then as the movie progresses, specifically at the 30 minute mark it is revealed that oh hoho he is a narcissist and is obsessed with himself. The way they did this was out of the blue and off putting. It came out of nowhere. There was no build up. It was a sweet song about the wishes and then BAM I'm a narcissist who cares about no one but myself. That 180 came so fast they did not even prep themselves for it. It felt like this was a last minute idea.

Well, King Magnifico was noble in regards to his ideology and his aspiration to see his kingdom continue to prosper while also being the one to safeguard the most precious wishes of the hearts of his subjects. And he loved his people...so long as they loved him, gave him constant appraisal and attention and undying devotion, and remained the good little dreamless drones he wanted them to be. Noble intentions can give way to indulgence in one's darker qualities and impulses if "the ends will justify the means" is subscribed to, and not all love is unconditional love. I have heard the complaints that Magnifico's unveiling plays out like a Twist Villain and that he was likely not intended to be really evil but they changed him last minute to pander to the "bring back traditional Disney Villains!" fan crowd. And I personally find it bollocks when the simpler answer is that King Magnifico is a corrupt, narcissistic manipulator with a God Complex whose benevolence is illusionary and whose wish-keeping system is an oppressive, dishonest, self-benefitting sham. Was the execution of the idea notably off in terms of the pace it moved at? Absolutely. This does not make Magnifico any lesser a villain, at least not to me.

Don't get me wrong, I love Asha.

This is a lie. There doesn't seem to be any "love" for anything in this movie coming from you.

She is sweet and funny, but she is poorly written.

Not only have I not argued that, I have actually stated as much!

We are not shown why she is sweet or why she is caring. We are told.

So we're just told that she's sweet rather than seeing her being so get shown, yet you like her for being sweet and funny? Which is it?

With her fatal flaw, caring too much, she is told this is her fatal flaw. The movie doesn't trust us enough for us to figure out her fatal flaw. And it doesn't even really show us that she cares too much to begin with.

Uh, yes it does. Her interactions with her mother and how far she's willing to go for her grandfather Sabino and how quickly she gets to being protective and cherishing of Star show us this. Like, if Sabino really is 100 years old and gave Magnifico his wish when he came of age years ago, that is years and years and years of life that Asha was not around to witness, as she hadn't been born yet. So you'd forgive her if she didn't invest all that much in getting Sabino's wish granted at last because she doesn't know her grandfather all that well as the gap between how long he's been alive and how long she's been alive is so huge, yet her heart cares so much about him and the idea of his wish being granted to him before he passes away that it becomes a fixation to her. She'd been spared lots of trouble and heartache had she cared less.

There are so many unexplained why's, to her it makes my head spin. Why does she care? Why does she want to be an Apprentice?

She wants to be an Apprentice so that she can be close to the king and the wishes he keeps, learn the inner workings of the system, and ensure that the king grants wishes to those she feels ought to have their hearts desires granted and their dreams realized. And this brings us to another flaw of hers that I wish the movie itself took time to notice and actually address as being such - well meaning or not, Asha was hoping that being in Magnifico's favor would get Magnifico to allow her to push for nepotism in regards to Sabino. It ended up backfiring and unveiling the king's darker nature, but it also unvelied something about Asha that the movie then sadly paid no mind to.

Why is she sweet? Why is she the way she is? Is it cause she is naturally that way like snow white? Was she raised to be that way? Or did she have a rough upbringing that made her this way? We don't know. That's the bottom line.

This movie has so many analytical flaws that I physically do not have the time nor the words to accurately explain to you why this movie is technically bad. But I doubt you care to even consider my points and come up with a half baked response.

Aaaand there's the condescending attitude you were holding back! Aaah, color me so disappointed! The "I cannot accurately convey in words how technically bad this movie is" is a cop-out, but one I'll let slide as it gets you off my back. But that other part? I DID consider your points and have in fact agreed with a few of them, and even ones I disagreed with I can see why you'd think that way about those matters. Yet you pre-emptively say "half baked response?" Sheesh!

I bid you a due. I'm gonna go watch an actually good movie.

"An actually good movie". There's another tacky, needless potshot.

Also, you fool. You absolute buffoon. It's "adieu", not "a due!"

[magpie-trinkets]

Hi and welcome to another episode of Pictures At Hard Very Looking! We left the last installment with the music sheet being almost consumed, with the theory that the machine was, in fact, a timer, and that something mysterious was capturing our characters' attention. Something is bound to happen sooner or later.

In fact, it has run out, in this new frame. There's no music sheet any more, only the holes remain. I am not sure about the utility these holes serve, but they are evenly distributed in a pattern of pairs, and all have the same width. Normally one would associate holes and music with string or wind instruments– in this case, a string instrument, as there is no way to cover those holes with a hand, nor there is any sort of mechanism to cover them. Violins and guitars, while they do have holes, they don't have THAT many, I don't think? There could be a string mechanism hidden within the machine, but we have yet to see it. Therefore, these holes could play a different role: decoration or structural. After all, a thing with holes in them weighs less¹. I had thought of the possibility that the paper was punctured through the holes, but the tiny holes didn't match with the position of the big ones.

More importantly, time is up. The sheet has run out. What will happen? Was the puzzle solved in time?

The Blue Lady and the Pumpkin Man stand now before the machine– the lady is looking at the machine, possibly aware that the sheet has finished playing. Does she know what it is? Has she resolved the puzzle? It seems like, in the half-an-hour-ish they had, some of the characters elected not to move. The Pumpkin Man is sitting on the steps, and he doesn't even acknowledge the machine's progress. Has he given up? The line of his shoulders and the fact he hasn't turned, or engaged the lady in conversation, indicates that he doesn't have much interest in the developments. Or that's what I'm reading in this frame, which could be incredibly wrong². None of them seem alarmed, so it seems all worry and panic was on my part. Everyone is weirdly calm about all of this.

There seems to be a ruler on the other side of the machine, too. And that metal thing, below the pumpkin adornment... Can this thing rotate? Curious and efficient! We can see the holes and hat seems to be... no... it cannot be...

Marco is standing up, backpack on and ready. He seems more restless than the others, as the last time we saw him, as far as I remember, he was seated on the other half of the room. The Pretty Lady is still sitting, her knuckles on her jaw, and seems to not have moved at all. She is as calm as ever. It seems that now that the time is over, we're watching the characters react or wait for something. It seems fortuitous that our trio has returned just when the sheet was about to end...

THERE'S MORE ON THE BACK????? OH NO.... DO THEY KNOW THERE IS MORE?

It's really hard to see, but this new music sheet is also filled with holes, and it ends with the same notes! I remember that ninoni nonino noninino! Could this be a copy? The same song? An alternate version?

But no, it can't possibly flip... If it did, the bottom part would end up and vice versa. Moreover, there's a system of gears and mechanical parts on the left side that seems to aid a sort of rotation. Could it be the same rotation that is sucking the sheet down? Then why does one get consumed, and the other doesn't? I thought I had this thing figured out, but now there are even more questions on top of the unanswered ones!

Also, there seems to be a continuity error? In the last frame, we saw that Marco and the Pretty Lady were close together, but in this new frame,

The lady is there, but Marco isn't. Generic models now litter the seats, and there is a tall, balding man without a hat that sits close but not quite in the same spot. The Pretty Lady is in the correct seat, the fourth one, but Marco has just... disappeared. I doubt he had the time to hide in the moment between frames– while he was indeed standing, he seemed to be quite paralised. If he chose to step forward we should be able to see him, but we don't.

The frame shifts from left to right, showing the rather empty theatre. The Blue Lady is nowhere to be seen, either, despite being shown to be close to the machine, a bit to the side. She did have time to move down, however, so her disappeareance is easily explained. Apart from the Pretty Lady, I can't see any familiar faces. The Pumpkin Man, Red Ribbon Lady, the Layton-shaped Object, Luke and Jenis should be obscured from the frame by the machine.

The frame changes to show us a part of the audience. While the two ladies and the green gentleman seem happy and in awe, moved by something– the puzzle? The music? That Mysterious Shit?(?) Captain Guy and the gentleman on the far back do seem rather... sad. Melancholy. Thoughtful, introspective. What could be happening that is making them react so? The music, I would guess– maybe for some it's a beautiful tune, while for others it's nostalgic in not a good way? Brings up bad memories, or good memories tinged by grief... The sort of song that played all the time and that you associate with a time long gone... Like the fossils...

Marco reappears from the aether and begins to move! He takes a step down the stairs, hands firmly grabbing onto the backpack. It's difficult to see his reaction to the machine's ending as his mouth is covered by his glorious moustache, and his eyes and eyebrows are partially covered by his glasses (also the eyes are. dots.) but he seems unmoved. I think he's determined to solve this, to find answers. His attire does make him look like an explorer, more than an opera goer: almost everyone is wearing a suit or a fancy dress, except for the Layton-shaped Object, Luke and Marco (and the creepy kid). We know the Layton-shaped Object was invited to this theatre that just so happens to have puzzles and artifacts– could Marco have a similar motivation to be here? He could enjoy the opera, I'm not saying he doesn't, but his design hints at a more hands-on hobby. His boots are practical for stepping in puddles and mud; his green pants look like hard jeans; his green shirt has various pockets, even in the sleeves, and it's short sleeved, certainly something serving a more practical end: the short sleeves make arm movement more free than a constricting dress shirt; his hat looks like its primary function is to protect his eyes and head from the sun than to be a pretty hat, like a top hat; and his backpack is fucking massive. It's probably filled with a lot of shit that aids in his hobby, whatever that may be: hiking, exploring, fishing, something outdoorsy. He clearly thought it necessary to carry all those implements to the Eternal Diva opera, even though they aren't needed at the moment. I theorise that he has a mysterious interest in the Eternal Diva showing, or the Crown Petone itself, and that this Situation has thrown a wrench in his plans. Maybe he was planning to go camping on the countryside after this! Poor guy!³

Oh! Ozro sits there, eyes closed and eyebrows pulled tense– he doesn't seem to like the ending either. He looks solemn. He still sits on the Detragan's bench, so he probably hasn't moved in all the minutes that passed. There seems to be someone behind him, but I am not sure...⁴ I jest. The creepy kid still stands facing the Detragan, really close to it in fact, but she isn't playing it. Her left hand is on her side, and while her right hand is not visible, if she were playing, more people would be looking at her? Instead, no one has repared on her, but maybe perhaps Ozro, who seems to be ignoring her? It is interesting that the film is introducing her now in a full frame instead of being hinted at in the background – this does imply that she, too hasn't moved from her place. Ozro and the creepy kid have stuck together, and apparently they aren't the talkative type.

I have reached the image limit, so I'll have to expedite this: the frame that follows the previous one is very similar to the one originally reblogged, so I'll analyse that last one instead; this one, however, is really fucking interesting, holy shit.

SO. The Descolers have appeared again!!! I don't think it's a coincidence that, now that the machine is done, the Descolers have elected to make their presence known. It seems like they gave the surviving passengers thirty minutes to solve the puzzle or roam freely around the theatre, but now that the time is up, they will act again. Their intention is unclear at the moment⁵. These are only three Descolers, and none of them carry anything that could be deemed a weapon. It should be fairly easy to win in a fight using the crowd that's left: 3 versus 5 or more people. But I understand the wariness and fear. These Descolers are a mystery, and there is an unknown number of them. Even if there are only three here, there could be more behind that door, and they could be hidden anywhere. They have already proven to be in control of the situation, and their motives are also unknown. They are very organised, in contrast to the panicked passengers, and they could even be trained in combat! Besides, hurting them might damage their chances to get out of here unscathed.

The three Descolers wear identical masks, white with a sort of beak for a nose and two triangular shapes for the cheekbones. The white colour, alongside the elevation by the temples, makes the design look like a skull, which is associated with evil or nefarious intentions. Their uniform consist on black clothing and a grey vest with some dark tones in the sleeves and shoulders. Now, colour theory indicates that red symbolises love and passion, so there's nothing evil about that! They wear what I like to call Mickey Mouse gloves, which are white gloves with two thingies on the back of the hand. This gloves protect the hands and serve to conceal fingerprints. Their chin is covered by a black cloth, which I suppose is part of a entire hood covering their head. There are two triangular protuberances that I don't know what they are, but they are there.

They seem to be stopping the passengers from crossing that door (beautiful wood). This suggests that the passengers aren't free to roam everywhere, of course. The Descolers must have parts of the ship under control, especially the "staff only" sections.

As for the frame originally reblogged, we can see five people: three men, one lady, and one person cut off the frame. They all look tense and scared of the Descolers, which is natural. Broccoli Lady holds her hands close to her chest; the Bald Man looks really confused, and the two visible men have their fists clenched in indignation. It seems like this group of people doesn't know each other, and haven't communicated beyond the shared wish to "get the fuck out of here".

So, big things happening! The time is up, people are moving or waiting for something to occur; the Descolers have appeared again! Their actions present an interesting puzzle. Why did they let them free for half an hour? Why have they waited that long? What were they doing in the meantime? Why are they now coming out? And what are they going to do next? What a cliffhanger.

¹. Clay bricks have holes in them for this reason, as far as I understand.

². Despite all the words and sentences I routinely use, I still have no idea of what the fuck is happening.

³. The Eternal Diva, or; Marco's Not Good, Very Bad Day, or; I Went To Dover To Spend My Vacation But I Ended Up Kidnapped In This Giant Ship?! My Vacation Is Ruined!

⁴. Get it? Because she is creepy and spooky? Like a ghost? A ghost child like in a lot of horror movies? Get it? You could make a creepy pasta out of this. "I think my version of the Eternal Diva is wrong? Halfway into the movie there appeared this character that seemed to have murderous intentions, but when I commented it on the forums, no one believed me? I tried taking a screenshot but the image was corrupted..."

⁵. My current theory is that they left time for people to solve the puzzle and now that time is up they're going to "kill" the ones who didn't solve it? A sort of fucked up elimination game.

[adamwatchesmovies]

Point Break (1991)

I don’t believe in bad premises, only in bad executions. Point Break is a perfect example. When you hear the premise, it sounds ridiculous but the movie itself is so good you feel like a fool for doubting it. Exciting, fun and surprisingly well written - particularly during its unusually deep conclusion - this is the kind of movie you become obsessed with.

Undercover FBI agent Johnny Utah (Keanu Reeves) is investigating a string of robberies. His partner, agent Angelo Pappas (Gary Busey), believes a team of surfers is responsible. While compiling a list of suspects, Johnny falls in love with Tyler Endicott (Lori Petty) and befriends a gang of surfers led by the charismatic Bodhi (Patrick Swayze). The complex relationship that develops seeps into every aspect of Johnny’s life, eventually threatening his job.

This buddy-cop action crime thriller takes you way by surprise. At 122 minutes it might be a tad long (maybe by 5 minutes) but along the way, it gives you so much. There are many laughs as Johnny and Pappas set out to prove the latter’s scoffed-at theory of criminal surfers. You’ll have a hard time holding back your chuckles as Johnny walks into his office board in hand to explain himself to his superior. Then, the film takes an entirely different tone when all signs point to the theory being true. There are “action” scenes as Johnny learns to surf and becomes embroiled in Body and his friends' extreme lifestyle. Then there are traditional action scenes as Johnny must pull out his gun while his fellow officers lay siege upon a house full of suspects who will do anything to avoid capture. This big, exciting confrontation leads to a moment of extreme tension, the kind in which guns - and therefore a quick, easy death - have been discarded. All that remains is the sort of dirty hand-to-hand combat that sure to leave you with a mangled face and broken bones. In any other film, this would be the climax. Here, we're just getting started.

Superbly directed by Kathryn Bigelow, Point Break, the stakes just keep getting higher and higher because of the characters. As a study of a law enforcer’s growing obsession, this is fascinating stuff. While it’s playing you’re simply concerned with the moment, enthralled by the death-defying stunts and possible ramifications the characters face. Once the dust settles, your brain catches up and makes sense of what just happened. Only then do you realize just how insane Johnny had to be to go to the lengths he did. You wonder if - should he even manage to get the “Ex Presidents” gang - he will emerge unscathed.

The conclusion is particularly strong. We’ve spent this whole time seeing the relationship between Johnny and Body develop. You like these characters despite their faults. You want them to redeem themselves, or at the very least to learn something. That would be a nice conclusion but this picture refuses to be nice. Instead of giving you the finale you want, it gives you the one you deserve. It might leave you shaking, slightly bewildered but deep down, you knew it was going to happen the way it did. You held out hope against all odds. Why? Because the movie got you, it got into your head and knew what it was doing.

I had always dismissed Point Break as the kind of film people looked back fondly upon solely due to nostalgia. Those who have seen the original The Fast and the Furious may find the film’s plot a little familiar but this film, written by Rick King and W. Peter Iliff reaches a higher level of sophistication. The characters are written several layers deeper than we’re used to seeing. Even without them, you’d still have great action, many memorable - and frequently hilarious - moments as well as a strong performance by Swayze. (On DVD, January 5, 2019)

[randomshyperson]

High School Sweethearts - Cheerleader!Wanda x Reader [Kinktober]

Summary: The new student captures your attention completely. She's perfect and she's everything you ever wanted.

Warnings: hints of corruption/innocence kink, first kiss, first time, virgin!Wanda, smut, teasing, some edging, fingering, strap-on use, top!reader, high school au | Words: 6.923k

A/N-> My first time writing something of this kink be kind. I'm absorbing the latest episode of She-Hulk yet, someone needs to send Jen hugs.

Kinktober Collection | General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

It was Kate who told you about the new students.

It was Tuesday, and the school was full of burbs all over the hall. You were late and a little irritated because you had argued with your father on the way - Steve Rogers could be many things, and stubborn was most of them. - and so you weren't the least bit interested in the daily gossip that your colleagues might have.

Still, Kate was one of your favorite people and she was so sweet that you didn't have the heart to ignore her attempts to get close during her freshman year, and now, she was a sophomore and you were graduating, and even though you weren't in the same classes, you were inseparable. 

"I hear they're the mayor's kids, and Y/N, you have to see, the two of them look like they stepped off a magazine cover." She excitedly narrates her encounter with the new students in the cafeteria. "If they weren't wearing their Avengers High uniforms, I would have mistaken them for models, I swear."

You chuckle, finishing picking up your books and closing your locker.

"Be careful not to drool too much, Bishop. Or your girlfriend will get jealous." You tease, but Kate doesn't laugh, assuming a momentarily fearful expression and looking around to see if Yelena wasn't somewhere listening in on the conversation.

The reaction only makes you laugh harder.

It takes three periods before you finally see the new students. By then, you have heard half the school talking about them, and you know they are twins, and yes, really the mayor's children because Darcy Lewis shows you a picture on her cell phone with the whole family landing in the local paper.

"They're cute, but it's no big deal." You mutter to Kate after looking at the photo, and she and Darcy share a nasal laugh.

"You'll change your mind when you see them in person." Your friend says, looking forward again because Professor Harkness has just entered the room.

Darcy puts her cell phone away, and you sigh, "I highly doubt it, I study with the most beautiful girls in the world, I'm not easy to impress. " You compliment them charmingly and Darcy and Kate laugh softly, rolling their eyes in good humor.

It's not a lie what you said, yet when between the penultimate and last period, a lost-looking girl bumps into you in the hallway, you are momentarily speechless at the greenish irises in front of you.

"Sorry, I didn't see you." She mutters in apology, stooping to grab the book she has knocked over and return it to you.

As you pick it up, you don't let go. "But I did see you. You're the new girl, right?" 

She smiles in surprise, hugging her own notebook. "Yeah, that's me. I'm Wanda. We just moved here from New York-"

You raise a hand in the air and Wanda falls silent in confusion, but you smile gently.

"Why don't you tell me that, and whatever you want, over coffee?"

She blushes very hard, opening her mouth a few times before giving a shy laugh. "S-sure, I like coffee."

You move closer and take out the pen attached to her notebook. You take the cap off with your teeth, and Wanda watches the item with hot cheeks the entire time you are pulling out a sheet of paper and writing your number in her notebook.

As you return the pen, you smile at her. "Don't forget to text, I'm dying to know the end of your story." You tell her, offering a gentle nod before leaving.

Wanda sighs loudly, leaning her back on the lockers. A silly smile fills her face, and she stands for a good few minutes trying to understand what just happened and why her legs are so shaky. 

–//–

You go out for coffee after class on Thursday, and for thirty whole minutes, you try not to stare at the legs exposed by her cheer skirt.

Wanda is so beautiful it hurts, and her near cluelessness only makes her more attractive.

You clear your throat quietly because she is a really very interesting person and you want to know more about her.

You learn that she was born in Sokovia - which explains her delightful accent that distracts you with every word - and that she moved to New York when her parents divorced. She is the younger twin, but not the sister, as her father has another girl named Lorna who is in middle school. It is also Wanda's first time attending school, and when she says this you widen your eyes slightly.

"Are you kidding me?" You question pushing the coffee creamer with your straw, she laughs lightly.

"No, I swear." She assures you humorously, mimicking your movements without realizing it in her own drink. "My dad is the overprotective type, and Pietro and I have been homeschooled all our lives. But it's senior year and somehow we managed to convince him that it was an important experience. Pietro wants a scholarship for athletics and I, well, I'd like to do cinema."

You smile. "So you like movies?"

Her face lights up even more. "I love movies! I know it's a very competitive industry, but my dream is to work as a film director! I love writing stories, and it would be so amazing to bring them to the screen and... I'm boring you, aren't I?" she interrupts, her cheeks a little red. "Sorry, I get too excited-"

"No, you're not." You interrupt her, "I like hearing you talk, go ahead."

Wanda blushes, even more, lowering her embarrassed gaze to her own lap before smiling shyly.

She tells you more about her dream of being a filmmaker, and about her family not liking the idea of her not pursuing a more secure career, and you make a point of encouraging her to do what she likes and not what others think is right, and Wanda is so flustered she hardly knows how to thank you.

You realize that it is getting late, and if you don't come back now, your father will probably find a new problem to discuss, so you tell Wanda that you have to go. She seems sad about this ending, and yet is still too shy to call you out on anything else. When she builds up the courage to do so, you think your heart won't hold out from all the cuteness.

"We could... I don't know, have tea? Or soda?" She invites clumsily, and you laugh softly just enough to make the redness of her cheeks worse.

Finishing putting on your jacket, you retort:

"I have a better idea, filmmaker girl. Want to go over to the house for Netflix&Chill?" 

It's a test or a joke with real intent, and Wanda falls right in. 

"Of course! I have like a dozen recommendations, and we could watch something by Kubrick or maybe Burton..."

You bite your lip, you're the one who fell. For her, and it was in the blink of an eye.

"Sure, Wanda, any movie you want." That's what you answer, deciding to keep the not going to be much-watching part to yourself.

–//–

Wanda lived on the edge of Westview, which meant that you could use the subway. But part of you wanted to impress her, so when Bucky let you use his motorcycle, you didn't miss your chance.

"Don't scratch it." He repeated the instructions, the key at face height. You raised your hand to take it, and he lifted the item a little further. "And what's our deal?"

You rolled your eyes. "Three hours out of the house for you to have a date night with my father. I could sue you for the trauma." You joked making him laugh before you managed to steal the key.

"Just text me when you're on your way. And please-"

"No scratches." You completed with an impatient sigh.

While your stepfather had his date night with your dad - whom you were avoiding as much as possible mainly because the deadline for sending admission letters was coming up and you had no idea what you were going to do and didn't want him pressing ideas on you - you made your way across town to see Wanda Maximoff and her stupidly adorable face.

Just as you imagined, she was excited by your arrival on the motorcycle, equally so from Pietro who started asking you questions as soon as you properly introduced yourself, but you noticed that Wanda's father was not too happy.

"You must be Y/N." He said as soon as Wanda guided you to the fancy balcony like all the rest of the house and the well-molded garden.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Maximoff." You spoke, which made him chuckle slightly.

"Actually it's Lehnsherr, Maximoff is their mother's maiden name." He clarified, and you feigned interest, nodding softly. 

"Papa, Y/N, and I are going to watch a movie in my room." Said the girl - She was wearing a long sweatshirt and shorts that disappeared with the garment covering it, and you were having a hard time trying to not imagine what it would be like to slide your hand under there. 

Erik looked you up and down as if he could read all your naughty intentions at once.

"Open door always, Wanda." He warned with his arms crossed, and Wanda chuckled confusedly, pulling you by the hand toward her bedroom.

You heard Erik ask Pietro questions about you, but your gaze was more attentive to the movement of Wanda's hips leading upstairs.

"Your house is quite beautiful, Wanda." You comment once she leads you into the bedroom. "Not as beautiful as the owner, of course."

She giggles embarrassed at the compliment, and you take the opportunity to kick the door discreetly shut. "Come sit here, I've set everything up for us."

She did, you could see the laptop, the drinks, and the popcorn. A proper movie session with Wanda in her fancy room, and you sighed lightly as you took off your shoes and jacket to sit on the bed next to her.

"What movie did you pick for us, pretty girl?" Your compliments were visually making her flustered, but she still said nothing, adjusting herself on the bed to reach for her laptop. "I was thinking of watching some classic, so I've sorted out some options for us."

She showed you a list that made you smile warmly. All the movies were good, but none had what you wanted to do with Wanda.

"I have a better suggestion, and I'm sure you've never seen this one." You told her as you moved the laptop to your own lap to search. She tried to peek, and you pulled away with a laugh. "No peeking, it's a surprise."

She laughed, shaking her head but holding herself in place. " All right."

"You're Jewish, right?" Your question surprised her a little, but she murmured in agreement the next second. You noticed many things on the way to her room, including the Jewish items that filled the blanks in your head about what you knew about the girl next to you. "Another reason for you to love this movie."

"So mysterious." She murmured humorously getting a soft chuckle from you. Once you had chosen and the start credits began to roll, Wanda bit her lip curiously. "What's it about?"

You crossed your ankles together. "Temptation." 

Wanda looked at you. "What?"

"Watch the movie, movie girl." You retorted amused and she chuckled softly before turning her attention back to the screen.

For the first few minutes of Disobedience, Wanda was a little upset. The story is sad in its complexity, and dealt with the fanatical religious obsession of a Jewish community and the harm to the protagonists' freedom. And at first, she didn't catch what the film was really about.

She thought it was sweet that you had brought a movie about her family's religion until the first kissing scene made her cheeks blush.

"Oh, they were a couple..." The words escape you before she can count them, and you lick your lips to contain your own anxiety.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Your whisper is curious in totality, and Wanda laughs in confusion, taking her gaze off the screen.

"What? No, of course not." She retorts, turning her attention back to the film. " They are sweet. I mean, the story is sad as hell, but they're sweet."

You smile, a relief filling your chest. You are about to make a comment when the door opens, and the moody figure of Erik appears.

"I told you I wanted the door open." He reminisces as Wanda pauses the movie.

"Sorry, papa, it must have closed with the wind." She half-heartedly clarifies, and you bite your tongue to hold back the impatient sigh of having your moment interrupted. 

"I have a dinner with the Congress people now, I just came to say good night, dear. And please don't delay Miss Rogers' stay here too long, driving late at night is dangerous."

You are about to say you will go as soon as the movie is over when Wanda comments:

"She could sleep here." And Erik hesitates just as you do. Wanda swallows dryly. "If you want to, of course. What if it's okay with you, papa?"

You have trouble hiding your smile, and Erik looks ready to make up an excuse when his cell phone rings. He sighs impatiently.

"Sure, we have a guest room. Good night to you." He says before answering the phone and leaving the room, talking about work until his voice fades from the distance.

Wanda leaves the movie paused, a confused expression on her face.

"He's acting so weird. This bed is big enough, why would I put you on the other side of the house?"

You stare at her and give an impressed laugh when you realize that Wanda simply doesn't know why.

"Wanda, your father doesn't want me to sleep in the same bed as you."

She frowns in confusion, "Why?"

You tilt your head. "He thinks we're going to fu-"

"Hey, I'm going at Quill's, can you cover for me if Dad asks for me when he gets back from his fancy dinner?" Pietro interrupts your speech as he enters the room, already holding the keys to the white pickup truck you've seen him drive a few times to school. Wanda blinks away from your intense gaze, a bit flustered.

"S-sure, Pietro, good night." She says very quickly, and the other looks between you and her with a suggestive expression.

"You two behave yourselves, huh? Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He teases, and Wanda grimaces. You chuckle.

"Sure thing, mary jane." You retort without hesitation and Pietro stops smiling at that instant. Wanda doesn't understand and probably doesn't know that Pietro smokes pot behind the gyms, and so before she can question the nickname, Pietro is muttering goodbye as he leaves the room.

"What was that...?" She asks but you shake your head, giving the movie a play.

"Let's keep watching, it's getting to the best part." Wanda sighs a little as you adjust and stay close enough for her to smell your perfume completely, effectively taking all attention away from the movie.

But she had to pay attention when the first moans started. In an instant, her cheeks burned, and Wanda tried to look as cool about it as she could.

You were tapping your fingers on your stomach, completely at ease with the intimate scene playing out on the screen in front of you, and it is impossible for Wanda to do the same.

Once she shifts uncomfortably, and you notice her clenching her thighs, you sigh.

"How was your first kiss?" Your question almost makes her choke, but Wanda is thankful that at least she has an excuse to look away from the movie's sex scene.

"Hum, I've never..."

"Really?" You cut her off gently, adjusting your weight on her arm to face her, and Wanda feels very nervous about all the attention. She nods, and you smile. "It's really hard to believe you didn't have a line of suitors."

Wanda chuckles embarrassedly, shaking her head. "Well, I don't know many people, you know? It's not like I had classmates studying at home. And when I wasn't studying, I was at some officional event, being my dad's perfect little girl."

The hidden bitterness in her sentence made you raise an eyebrow softly, the interest burning in your mind. 

"I know the feeling, my father is a military man and loves to keep up appearances." You say, quietly closing the laptop in Wanda's lap. "But unlike you, I do whatever it takes to annoy him."

"Very naughty of you." She mutters half breathlessly because you are leaning over her suddenly. But it's only to put the closed laptop on the nightstand, and once you notice the way Wanda is blushing and breathing out of rhythm, a smile forms on your face.

"Wanda, I would like to be your first kiss." You whisper to her, and instead of pulling away, you rest a hand on the side of her head. "If you want that of course."

She chokes softly but nods almost frantically. "Yeah... I'd like that."

"Let's start with lesson one then. Close your bedroom door." You guide low against her lips, using every mental control to pull yourself away from her. Wanda gasps, but quickly moves in shaky steps off the bed to the bedroom door, and you hide a smile as you tuck yourself into her bed.

She surprises you a little when with trembling fingers, she locks the door.

"Just... for precaution." She clarifies embarrassed about the look on your face, but you just shrug.

"I'm not complaining." You tease. "Come here."

Wanda swallows dryly and wastes no time in obeying, walking back to the bed. She sits down a little further in front of you, and you hold out your hand for her to take, and once she does, you pull her gently to sit on your lap.

Wanda is trembling with nervousness, and her skin is warm to the touch. You lick your lips, trying to control yourself and not grab her right there and kiss and fuck her until she can't remember her own name, and it takes a lot of willpower when she looks so good all over you.

"You've never really kissed anyone, not even a small peck?" You ask sweetly, bringing your hand to her cheek for her to look at you. When she denies it with her head, you move closer. "Give me a peck then." She does so on the spot, and it's quick as expected, but it turns her cheeks into tomatoes. You smile, "Again. Longer this time."

She sighs, but nods and breaks the distance, pressing her lips over yours. 

Instead of letting go, you place your hand on her cheek and kiss her back firmly, eliciting a surprised and affected sigh in return. She opens her mouth to breathe, and you slide your tongue inside.

Wanda makes a noise with her throat, moving restlessly in your lap but you guide the kiss until she gets used to the sensation and soon her breathless sighs sound like gasping pleas, her hands move to your shoulders and she tries to deepen.

Everything in her body begs for more - more of your hands, squeezing her waist, more of your tongue sucking hers, and more of you, everywhere you can touch. She feels hot and bothered, and it is as new and fantastic as it is overwhelming.

You kiss her until she starts to move her hips impatiently against your thigh, and then you know you have to stop now or you won't be able to pull it off later. The way your heart speeds up when she looks at you with puffy lips and dark eyes once the kiss is over only confirms this.

"Is everything okay?" Wanda speaks first, her voice shaky and husky, her face inches from yours.

You take a deep breath, offering her a small smile.

"Sure, I should just go home." You say, and you are already moving her off of you in the next moment, missing the other's confused look. 

Once you have your shoes on, Wanda can't contain her concern.

"I...I did it wrong didn't I?" 

You frown, turning to her as you put on your jacket. Wanda looks down at her own lap. 

"You didn't do anything wrong, Wanda." You tell her, moving closer again to the end of the bed. "Listen." You say gesturing to her ear, and she is confused for just a second.

Next, she can hear her father outside the house, car noises, and something that sounds like complaints about a canceled dinner.

She looks at you again, and you are already kneeling on the bed to reach for her face.

"I'm just trying to keep you out of trouble." You explain as you caress her cheek. "I can't risk you getting grounded in this fancy mansion when I want to keep taking you out."

Her gaze glows hopeful. "You do?"

You smile, leaning in to kiss her intensely for a moment. "Of course I do." You assure her once you break the kiss, your gaze darkening afterward. "And I also want to come to your room, lie on your bed, and elicit all the delicious sounds you make when I kiss you."

Wanda chokes softly, leaning in to break the distance again, but you haven't offered her more than a peck, earning a grumble in return. "When are you going to kiss me again? For real."

"When do you want to?" you challenge back, and despite the pink of your cheeks, Wanda doesn't hesitate.

"Now."

You chuckle, pulling away. You open the door just before Erik comes up the stairs, and he grimaces, but you are already leaving the room. Before you do, you turn and offer a wink to Wanda, who once she is left in the room alone, sinks her face into her pillows, trying to make her heart stop beating so fast.

–//–

You wanted to take things slow with Wanda because in your experience, too fast burns and wears out at the same speed.

It is, however, quite difficult to keep your eyes off her.

Especially when she looks so irresistible in her cheer uniform.

"You're drooling." Yelena sneers beside you under the bleachers as you both skip chemistry class so she can smoke away from any teacher's attention.

"I definitely am." You retort without any concern, your gaze focused on the brunette from meters away. Yelena laughs dryly, taking a long drag on her cigarette. 

"When are you going to make it official?"

"Why, so we can end up like Nat and Carol, fighting about the damn weather." You retort half impatiently, and Yelena hesitates a moment. She puffs smoke before answering.

"Carol cheated on Nat." She declares, and you gasp in surprise, looking at your friend with wide eyes. She shrugs her shoulders. "It was with a girl from State, at last year's championship. Nat tried to forgive her, but it''s been the same since summer. They're not fighting because of the weather, they're fighting because they're lying to each other."

You bite your tongue, turning your gaze back to Wanda in the field. She looks beautiful and giggles excitedly with her teammates when she gets her steps right.

"That doesn't make me feel confident about your suggestion, Lena." You murmur to her, and Yelena laughs lightly, taking one last drag before throwing the cigarette on the ground. 

"Not every relationship sucks, Y/N." She begins. "Not everyone gets divorced like your parents, and not everyone cheats like my sister's girlfriend. Just look at me and Kate. I fucking love her, and I can't wait for us to be living in the same apartment."

You smile small. "I never said I loved anyone."

Yelena rolls her eyes, laughing softly. "It's in your face. And look where you are, simping over her while skipping class instead of doing anything else."

It's your turn to roll your eyes, a soft pink filling your cheek at being caught. "Shut up or I'll tell Kate you're looking for a place without her help."

Yelena laughs, "And I'll tell Maximoff that you're a stalker."

You grunt impatiently, leaving muttering that the field is a free-for-all, and missing the way Wanda looks through the rails to where you were sitting before.

As the weeks went by, and with the clear yet casual involvement between you, it was obvious to everyone how much influence you had in each other's lives.

You started showing up to more classes, and Wanda stole your leather jacket for her and learned to say no to her father when you learned to show up at family dinners.

She borrowed your clothes with the excuse that they smelled like you, and you brought home her classic DVDs almost every weekend.

And there was also a matching set of hickeys on your necks.

"Wanda, your father looks ready to blow up this car." You reminded her with a breathless giggle against her lips - because she insisted that you kiss her properly - before you dropped her off at home. She grunted impatiently, grabbing your chin so that you would take your attention away from the man with his arms crossed in the driveway, and focus on the girl sitting in the car seat gifted by your father after you said you had sent admission letters to colleges not so far from Wanda.

"I want to ask you something." She says, kissing you again briefly. "Do you want to sleep over at my place this weekend?"

You hum, kissing her again before retorting, "Is it some special occasion?"

She smiles, shaking her head. "Just missing you. And... it's the race finals weekend, so Dad and Pietro are traveling and we'll have the house to ourselves."

You choke softly, caught by surprise that it is Wanda suggesting such a thing. But she seems genuinely naive about it, waiting for your response. 

"Hmm, and what would we do with the house to ourselves...?" You tease, rubbing your nose against hers and Wanda chuckles shyly, one hand going up to your neck.

"I suppose whatever we want." She replies, and you smile before kissing her again, this time goodbye.

–//–

It seemed to take a lifetime, but the weekend finally arrived.

Wanda doesn't know why she was so nervous. You had been alone before, between classes, at movie screenings, at snack bars, or bowling alleys.

But then she remembered the feeling of your lips pressing against hers, the panting whispers that made her skin itch, and the way her knees gave way when your hands got bold and she guessed she knew very well why.

She prepares a typical movie session, all the food, and comfy pillows, and you praise her for her dedication before pressing her against the bedroom door.

Wanda loves those hungry kisses - they heat up her body like a furnace, and always leave her wanting more. And today you seem willing to give her as much as she needs.

Your mouth parted from hers only to trail along her jaw, marking your way down and Wanda already panting, threw her head back against the wood, shivering under your rough touch around her body.

"I drove all the way down here thinking about kissing you, princess." You confess huskily against her ear, and Wanda blushes heavily, a low moan escaping her throat. "You're making me crazy, Wanda. I can't stop thinking about you."

"I think about you too." She confesses equally affected, only to gasp when you press a knee between her legs and everything burns, and she can't control the sounds that escape from there, not when you move your hands to her waist and make her grind against your thigh next. "Oh. That feels so nice..." She whimpers overwhelmed by the sensations, and you gently bite the sensitive spot on her neck.

"If you want something, you're going to have to ask for it." You whisper, and Wanda moans in response, her nails digging into your arms.

"Please, Y/N. I just need...you to touch me." She tries with her cheeks burning as much as the rest of her body, her hips never failing against your thigh and making you shiver.

"I'm all over you, pretty girl." You tease back, meeting her gaze and swallowing Wanda's breathless moans with your mouth with each movement of her hips. "Unless you want me to touch you somewhere else..."

"You know I want to." She retorts naughtily, and to that, you bite her lip, a gentle tug that makes her choke on a moan.

"Don't be a smart-ass." You warn, sliding a hand to her thigh to pull it up, and the adjustment makes Wanda see stars. "You can't even tell me to fuck your pussy."

She whimpers at the teasing, closing her eyes and throwing her forehead against your shoulder. You laugh smugly as the wetness begins to stain your pants.

"Baby, please..." She whimpers again, urging her body against you. Her hips are out of rhythm, and the covered stimulation is delicious, but still not enough. She just needs some kind of push that you seem to know what it is and won't grant her. 

Instead of answering her, you grab her neck and kiss her hard, adjusting your body to hers until Wanda feels a hardness and jerks up with a surprised, affected squeal.

"It's a gift that I bought especially for you. if you're ready for it, of course." You clarify breathlessly, and she nods immediately, interlacing her hands behind your neck. But you kiss her slowly now and move your other hand down to lift Wanda between the door and your lap so that she now grinds directly against the strap instead of your thigh. She gasps in a whimper, meeting your eyes again as you break the kiss. " Fuck, you're so close and I haven't even touched you yet."

You were absolutely right. The knot in Wanda's belly was ready to explode at any moment, and when you slid your hand down to open your zipper, and the fake cock slipped out, the new pressure made Wanda growl hornily, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

You didn't penetrate her, letting her grind her covered intimacy against the toy until the moisture was enough to wet it. By now Wanda was jerking, holding you by the shoulders as you moved your hips against her. The strap pressed against her clit, sliding in a torturous back and forth over her covered pussy, and you seemed to be having the time of your life driving her to the brink of insanity with that tease.

"Y/N-fuck-I want-need it... inside-ah" She tried, delirious with anticipation, ever so close, and you panted softly in her ear.

"I love it when you cuss, it's so hot." You praise, slowing down and making Wanda moan loudly, her clit throbbing. "If you can ask me what you want, I'll do it."

Wanda whimpers affectedly, her cheeks blushing again. She is almost building up courage when you curse in her ear trapped in your own pleasure, and she is cumming instead of saying anything.

It is an overwhelming pleasure, almost terrifying her. She grabs you to keep from falling to the floor, dripping onto her panties. You grunt as you realize what has just happened and only give Wanda time to stop shaking before you get down on your knees.

"Babe, what are you...?" She falls silent as she chokes on her own breath, throwing her head back hard as her hips try to escape from your hands that hold her just for that. You press your nose against her covered intimacy, sniffing with a loud groan as Wanda whimpers. You don't give her time to complain before you move a hand to push the fabric away and sink your tongue into her.

Wanda practically screams, and you groan as you taste her. You fuck her messily, hungrily as you take your tongue between the folds of her pussy, pushing deep and then shallow to make her twitch, and when you suck on her clit she brings a hand to her hair.

"Oh-OH-blyat', tak khorosho!" Wanda gasps, and you groan as you hear her cursing in another language. It just encourages you to keep going, and this time, you won't stop until you get it out of her again. 

It didn't take long - Wanda was sensitive and you only had to slide your tongue inside and suck her clit a few times for her to spill into your mouth with a long moan, her nails digging into your scalp. You moaned too, delighting in her taste and licking her clean before making your way up again.

"That was..." She tries breathlessly, her eyes lazy, and you smile, kissing her and making her grunt for her own taste before turning into a surprised yelp when you take her by the thighs and lift her onto your lap.

"We're not done, pretty girl." You clarify between kisses on the way to the bed. When you place Wanda on the mattress, her hair spreads across the pillow and she stares at you with dark eyes, her chest heaving. You pause, momentarily speechless as you realize how much you care for her.

"Everything okay?" She asks at your hesitation, and you smile immediately, nodding and moving closer to kiss her with intensity. Wanda melts, trying to pull you up but you gently push her by the shoulders.

She thinks to question, but your hand traces its way between her thighs and any question becomes an affected whimper.

"The toy is small, but I still need to stretch you with my fingers." You whisper with a naturalness that doesn't match the way Wanda blushes heavily. She merely nods, shivering under your fingers scratching and teasing around the inner part of her thighs. "You'll tell me if it hurts, won't you, pretty girl?"

She nods frantically, choking softly. "Y-yes, but please, just..." The teasing was driving her insane, your fingers only touching around, never where she desperately needed it. "Please, Y/N, touch me."

You shushed her gently, kissing the corner of her mouth and then her jaw, and when you got to her neck and started sucking on the sensitive spots that made her squirm on the bed, your fingers find her intimacy and penetrated her.

Wanda whimpered, closing her eyes tightly to the invasion. One at first, and then you slid out, and when you came back, two sank into her and she bit your shoulder.

"Tell me when you're ready." You whispered into her neck, moving your thumb to stimulate her clitoris, and Wanda throbbed beneath you. After two orgasms, she was really quite sensitive, but that only made it better. "Wands?"

She sighed, opening her eyes to find your worried ones. Instead of answering, she brought one hand to your cheek and another to the wrist connected between you. She brought your lips together at the same time she moved her hips, and you took the cue, sliding your fingers out and then in to find a rhythm.

Wanda whimpered once you got it, with each thrust she gasped at the kiss becoming harder to return, but once you felt her close again, you stopped.

She grunted confused and annoyed, but you adjusted before she could say anything, and any complaint broke down into an affected moan as you lined up the strap on her and sank in at once.

"Ah, I knew you could take it, pretty girl." You praised her, in a slow rhythm against her as Wanda squirmed and dug her nails into your back, desperate for more. "Damn, you look so beautiful now."

Wanda's moans mingled with the sounds of the thrusts inside her, the wetness of her pussy creating a delicious friction. You firmed your hands on her waist, pushing deeper, and she arched her back, ready to fall over the edge. You fell over her, hugging her and kissing the skin of her exposed collarbone, and Wanda whimpered, moaning under you.

She let out a little squeal, and her body tensed and you gasped against her neck as you came too, your juices mixing and dripping down her thighs.

You stood there for a moment, just breathing against each other as you calmed from your climax, and you smiled as you felt Wanda draw patterns on your back.

Unhurriedly, you moved off her, biting your lips at the image of the soaked toy and the sigh that left her lips as she felt empty before you pulled away.

Wanda looks at you expectantly at once, missing your body on top of her.

"Where are you going?" She asks in a half-hoarse voice, but you smile, now standing in front of the bed, you begin to remove your pants.

"You came three times and we didn't even get to take our clothes off. I'm kind of impressed."  You humorously clarify, and Wanda giggles shyly, biting her lips as you take off your clothes in front of her. "How would you like to take a shower with me? And then, lend me something comfy so we can watch the movie you've picked up?"

She finds it incredible, honestly, but once you are completely naked in front of her, Wanda can only sigh and move closer again. She brings a hand to your neck and kisses you hard.

"Later. Now, I want you to do that thing with your tongue again." She asks with a sigh and well, it's not like you're going to complain.

–//–

You awoke to rays of sunlight on your face and a warm feeling on the tip of your stomach.

"Wands...oh...don't stop that." Your natural instinct was to call out to her, but it turned into something like a moan and a sigh as you felt the pleasure electrify your whole body at once. Wanda smiled against you, looking up at you as her hands held your thighs open for her. You squirmed on the mattress, barely finding time to grab her hair before you cum hard on her tongue. "Fuck, baby, that was amazing."

She giggles softly against you, kissing your thighs before moving up your body until she finds your mouth again. It takes a moment for you to recover from the orgasm and wake up properly, but when you do, your hands go around her and you spin Wanda around on the bed, getting on top quickly as she smiles.

"You're a fast learner." You comment against her jaw, tracing kisses downward. "I don't think I've ever cum so fast before..."

But suddenly, Wanda tenses and your hand guides your face back to her.

"I don't want to think about it." She says almost irritated, and you frown in confusion, "You with other people."

A smile breaks on your lips. " Hmm, is that right?"

But Wanda doesn't smile, sliding her legs between yours to switch positions and push you on your back on the bed, straddling your lap the next minute. Her hands at the side of your head, and her hair makes a curtain between your faces.

"I want you to be mine, Y/N. As I am yours." She whispers hoarsely, her gaze intense on yours. You blink impressed but are smiling.

"And who says I'm not already?" You challenge back, moving your hands to her hips and enjoying the feel of her intimacy against your thigh. Her breasts look incredible like this too, covered only by the half-open shirt of yours that she must have stolen during the night.  

Wanda studies your face as she risks, "You never made us official, I thought..."

You bring a hand to her cheek as she lowers her head in shame. "Wands, and who says labels are the only thing that makes us official?"

Wanda shrugs, looking away, "I don't know, it's just that the cheer girls have their partners, and they're always talking about going to college together or buying apartments and-"

You straighten up, sitting up and pulling her closer.

"We'll do all that if that's what you want." You tell her with sincerity. "We'll go to NYU together, and rent an apartment. And I'll buy you a shiny ring so everyone will know we're together."

Wanda smiles, blushing as she wraps her arms around you.

"But what do you want?"

You smile warmly, brushing your nose against hers. "Sweetheart, I just want you." You retort caressing her skin. "I don't care about social norms, I just want to be able to kiss and wake up with you every day. If you want a ring, let's buy a ring. If you want to meet me in secret so as not to upset your father, I'll accept that too."

Wanda chuckles softly, pecking your jaw and then your lips.

"There's no way I'm keeping you a secret, you're the best thing that ever happened to me." She confesses and you kiss her, again and again until she starts to heat up on you, breathless whispers leaving her lips with each kiss. 

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me too, Wands." You retort to her before deepening the next kiss, and this time, you don't stop.

[milfgyuu]

Old Fashioned [M] Pairing: Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader Tags: 3.8k, married!au, parent!au, romance, fluff, humor, softish smut Summary: Mingyu balances being a doting husband and father all while preparing a special night in for your eighth anniversary.

Warnings: Sexually Explicit Content 18+, unprotected sex (mxf), romantic sex?, this is pretty mild but it is descriptive so minors DNI, this is overall pretty fluffy, some post-baby body talk, language maybe, a glass of wine, i think that covers it. 

“What in the-”

A tiny voice captures your attention and you look down, directly into the sparkling eyes of your daughter who’s tugging on your pant leg as you walk through the front door. 

“Hi, mommy!”

“Baby,��� You smooth a hand over her head, still glancing around the room. “What have you guys been up to?”

Minhee bounces on her tiptoes with excitement, clapping her tiny hands. “Daddy says it’s your...um...anni-vers- er...um,” She purses her lips and thinks hard, not noticing the way you’re watching her with absolute adoration in your eyes. “Daddy said it was a special day and I got to help him make dinner!”

She jumps as she tells you about helping in the kitchen and you reach down to scoop her up, kissing her little round cheek. “Well, dinner must be delicious if you made it! Did you help him decorate the living room too?”

Your daughter sighs in exasperation, “I got to let the balloons go up,” She points toward the ceiling which is indeed filled with pretty lilac balloons, “But when I was stickin’ the hearts on stuff I wanted to put one on Soojin and Daddy said no because she’s too little.”

You giggle at the look on her face and vividly picture the interaction in your head. Your poor husband was outnumbered with the women in the house between you and your two daughters. You’re sure Minhee spent a good portion of the decorating sporting a pout she no doubt inherited from her father. 

If the goal was making your heart swell painfully in your chest, they had done a wonderful job. There are little paper cut-out hearts stuck all over the walls and furniture, candles lit warmly around the room, and massive bouquets of white and lilac roses on every surface. 

“Minhee, did you find your bear? Grandma will be here soo- Oh!” 

In the eight years since you’d tripped and hopelessly fallen in love with your husband, there have been several times where you’ve felt like you’re falling all over again and right now is one of those times. 

Mingyu’s not wearing anything special, in fact, he was probably wearing those pajama pants yesterday and his white t-shirt has a distinct milk stain on the left shoulder but he looks perfect. His hair is messy, haplessly pushed back and still falling in his eyes, blocked by the thick frames of his glasses. 

Soojin, your five month old daughter is passed out like a sack of potatoes over his right shoulder and he balances her effortlessly with one big hand. There’s no doubt he’s been at that for hours because Soojin is a daddy’s girl who doesn’t like to be put down and Mingyu is an absolute push over for his girls. 

He smiles softly, prettily pointed canines illuminated in the warm lighting. “You’re home earlier than I thought,” He says, walking over and wrapping his free arm around your waist. 

He leans in for a kiss and Minhee giggles as he does so. Little Soojin barely budges, only sucking in a short breath and jostling when you press your lips to the top of her head softly. You pull back just far enough to set Minhee down and she runs to her room, probably completing the task of finding that teddy bear like her father asked. He snickers to himself when she bolts from the room and you can only assume it’s not the first time he’d asked. 

“Happy anniversary beautiful,” Mingyu grins, leaning in for another kiss you give up without question. “Dinner is still in the oven and your mom will be here soon to pick up the kids.”

You look at him in surprise and he just smiles in return. “You mean…?”

“That we will have the whole house to ourselves for the night? Yes, ma’am,” He winks, obviously very proud of his surprise. 

Having Mingyu all to yourself in an empty house for the first time since bringing the baby home seems too good to be true and yet, the doorbell rings and reality sets in. You barely take one step forward before Minhee comes tearing through the house shouting, “Grandmmmmaaaa!”

Soojin’s head lifts off of Mingyu’s shoulder, eyes still closed, a puddle of drool on his shirt where her perfect pout rested. You try not to laugh but the sound still carries through as you take her from your husband so he can attempt to beat your oldest to the door to let your mother in. 

The baby blinks her big beautiful eyes at you a few times, parting her lips in a big yawn. Her tiny fists kneed into your shirt, a big smile working it’s way onto her lips as she processes being back in her momma’s arms. She might love her daddy but he doesn’t have the goods like you do. “Already hungry, aren’t you sweet girl?”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Your mother’s voice floats through the room and you turn to greet her, Minhee already nestled in her arms. 

“Hey, Mom,” You smile, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Thank you for taking the kids, I had no idea Mingyu had planned all this.”

Your mom grins at your husband over her shoulder and he steps up to her side, chuckling as she reaches up and pinches his cheek. “I expect nothing less from my darling son-in-law.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You scoff playfully, “We know he’s your favorite.”

Minhee furrows her brows and looks at your mother curiously. “Grandma,” She says very seriously, “I thought I was your favorite?”

You all chuckle and your mother answers your daughter with a soft smile. “You’re my favorite little treasure!”

The answer is good enough in her book so Minhee grins and rests her head under her grandma’s chin, sticking her little tongue out at Mingyu who feigns offense dramatically. Soojin’s hands tug at your shirt harder and you shift her over to your other hip. Both Mingyu and your mother look at you and you smile sheepishly, “I’m sure Gyu packed milk and bottles but if you have a minute, I’d like to go feed her before you leave.”

Your mother smiles, “Of course, honey. Go spend a little time together. I’ll keep track of this one and Mingyu, honey,” She eyes him, picking up on the stained clothing, “Why don’t you go...freshen up.”

Mingyu snorts before leaning down to kiss the top of her head, “Thanks, Mom.”

Soojin nurses for about twenty minutes or so and you help your mom load up both kids in her car, kissing your girls about a dozen times each before watching the minivan back out of the driveway and off down the road. It’s tough, that initial bout of separation. 

Back inside the house you lock up and turn to find Mingyu coming down the stairs looking...ridiculously well put together and it’s probably safe to say you drool a little. Once clad in old pajama pants and a crusty t-shirt, he now looks like he’s ready to head off to a five star restaurant to wine and dine the absolute shit out of you. The homemade dinner says otherwise and you eye him curiously. 

“I still clean up pretty well,” He smirks, “Don’t you think?”

Long black slacks, crisp white button down shirt neatly rolled to the elbows, hair styled perfectly as if he hadn’t been running his hands through it all day. And the expensive cologne wafting off of him. God, this is how you ended up with two kids. You weren’t ready for a third. 

“I think you could wear a cardboard box and I’d marry you all over again.”

He closed the distance between you and plants a hot kiss on your lips. “I did lay a dress out on the bed for you,” He says cheekily, “It’s not white though.”

“You’ve really thought this out, haven’t you?”

“Give me some credit, baby. Your husband is a master surprise planner,” He winks down at you, “Now, go get dressed while I set the table.”

He spins you swiftly toward your room, slapping your ass and shocking the shit out of you as he does so. Master surprise planner indeed.

The dress is Mingyu’s favorite. 

You also have not worn this one post-baby and you're thinking he’s probably about to lose his ‘Master Planner’ title already. As usual, you don’t give yourself enough credit and the dress actually looks really nice on you. Perhaps you fill it out a little more than you used to and you can’t stop smoothing it down on your way to the kitchen after fixing your hair and applying a little perfume but Mingyu’s jaw drops and some of that insecurity melts away. 

“I am the luckiest bastard on the planet,” He grins, eyeing that tight red dress from where it ends at mid thigh all the way up to your chest and back down again.

You snort, waving him off as you take in how nice everything looks. 

The kitchen is spotless, not a bottle drying rack in sight. There are candles lit at various points in the room and a few more at the kitchen table, two plates already filled with all your favorite foods and even a glass of red wine. You look up at him curiously and he’s already making his way over, pulling out your chair. 

“Even breastfeeding, it’s ok to have a small glass of wine, per your doctor, and the mom group on Facebook.”

“Thank you, milk professionals,” You sigh, taking a seat and grabbing the stem of your wine glass. You tip back the contents in one go and Mingyu blinks, replacing it with water. 

“Long day, baby?”

Mingyu comes around the table and takes a seat, digging into his plate while you finish your bite. “No, it was fine,” You chuckle after swallowing your food, “Forgive me if I’m eager to uhh...get through dinner.”

The heat in your gaze is far from unfamiliar to your husband and he blushes profusely, “Oh.”

You smirk, “Yeah...oh. That word exactly, my love.”

His eye brow flicks up in amusement and he takes another bite, easily double the size of the last. His forearms are bare and you smile suddenly, pushing away from the table in search of your purse by the door. Mingyu waits patiently for you to return and when you do, you brandish a long rectangular gift box from behind your back. 

“Happy Anniversary!” You tell him, setting the box in front of him and kissing his temple before returning to your seat. 

He eyes you curiously and opens the box, a broad smile surfacing when he sees the beautiful new watch you’d picked out for him. A few weeks back, Minhee was trying to ‘help’ clean the bathroom and accidentally knocked his old one right into the toilet. You’d even tried taking it to a watch repair shop but no luck. It was a goner. 

“Waterproof?” He asks with a smirk and you laugh, confirming that it most definitely was. 

“Thank you, babe. I love it,” He pouts out his bottom lip because he wants to kiss you but there is a whole damned table in the way. “Your present is in the bedroom.”

You raise your brow suggestively and he laughs, “That’s not what I meant.”

“You mean you didn’t get me your dick in a box?”

Your poor husband nearly chokes on his drink with the compulsory laugh that forces its way out. He’s so used to you guys whispering your inappropriate jokes to one another because of the kids but hearing you say it loud and proud makes it ten times funnier. 

Dick in a box. Heh. Classic. 

“It’s tacky to gift you something you already own, babe,” he drains his glass, smirking at the way your nose scrunches up at his corny line. 

You both stare down at your empty plates and meet eyes across the table.

“These can wait.”

“Yep.”

Mingyu’s chair flies out from underneath him and yours tips backwards as you barrel toward one another. Your bodies collide in the middle of the dining room, fingers undoing buttons, tugging at zippers. Mingyu’s shirt gets stuck on the last button and he tears it apart. One single button isn’t going to hold him back. 

Your dress almost catches on your hair but it’s soon on the floor in a pile along with your bra and his shirt. His belt buckle makes a loud noise when it hits the tabletop but the sound that falls from your lips is louder when his teeth nip at your bare shoulder, pulling you hard against his body by the grip he’s got on your ass. 

“Let’s fuck right here,” he breathes against your lips, “...don’t wanna wait.”

He doesn’t actually give you the chance to answer before he backs you up against the edge of the table and dips his hand down the front of your underwear.  His fingers make quick work of you, watching you fall apart with a smile. Then, as if he suddenly realized he had the time to take all of your clothes off, he stops abruptly to strip you completely. 

When you have kids, especially little ones, sex is few and far between. A lot of the time it’s rushed, mostly clothed, stifled in silence and you’ve both become sort of accustomed to that fast paced fling. It’s only when the kids are out of the house that you have time to stop and really appreciate each other but it takes a minute to realize you don’t have to move a mile a minute. 

“Have I mentioned lately,” he pants into your neck, hand back to its original place, “How much I love seeing you naked.”

Your lips part with a breathy laugh, “This body has seen better days but I appreciate the sentiment.”

Mingyu’s eyes narrow and he stops to look down at you. His wife. Mother of his beautiful babies. Soulmate with a fantastic sense of humor and gorgeous glow that has remained untouched since the day you both met. 

He picks you up and places you gently on your back atop the dining table with a half-hearted glare. “There will be no baby mama body slander in this house. You were, are, and always will be the sexiest woman I've laid eyes on. So, shut up.”

The last bit makes you snort but it’s punctuated with a heedy moan when his heavy cock nestles between your folds. He’s all too pleased with the long sigh you let out, hands kneading and squeezing your thighs as he pushes back and forth, coating himself in your slick like the overgrown heathen he is. 

When he finally sinks home he falls forward, hands supporting his weight against the table. Slowly, a smirk spreads over his lips. “You sure you don’t want another one?”

You’re still breastfeeding the last. Your eyes narrow, “I’ll kill you.”

You’re also on birth control. He can dream, but he’d better keep it to himself until Soojin is out of diapers at the very least. 

“You love me,” he argues, “You love me so…much.”

Ugh, cocky. He’s so hot.

He emphasizes the words with each thrust of his hips, jolting your body forward on the table, and his hands encase your waist, effectively pinning you down. Just the sheer size of him is enough to light your body on fire but he knows how to use it too and that is always your undoing. 

It’s a slow and steady build, one that he’s perfected over the years. Mingyu makes it a point to map out your body, to continually study it because he knows it won’t always be the same. You won’t always be the same. People grow, change, their needs might not match what you were previously used to and Mingyu makes sure he doesn't miss a single beat. He pays attention to every whimper, every trail of raised skin, every pulse. 

He knows you inside and out, even when your body begins to feel foreign to yourself after bringing two beautiful babies into this world. Your husband takes care to help you re-discover what you feel you’ve lost along the way. 

It’s an oddly tender line of thought when you’re literally being fucked over the dining room table but emotional stability is still on the fritz and so when you moan out the words, ‘I love you’, your husband grins - cheeks pinching tight with flooded adoration. 

“I love you too,” he murmurs, smoothing his hand down your thigh, “Let me take you upstairs.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, “Dining table sex: Very hot and spur of the moment. I’m totally fine!”

Mingyu huffs out a laugh and scoops you off the table's surface and into his arms. “I’m not,” he explains softly, carrying you toward the staircase, “I want to make love to my wife, in our bed. Call me old fashioned.”

You tighten your arms around his neck and press a kiss to his cheek, “I’m okay with old fashioned.”

The hallway light filters into your bedroom, projecting shadows along the wall. Mingyu’s body covers yours beneath the sheets, thrusting into you fluidly as airy moans leave your lips and float up to the ceiling. His hands are reverent on your skin, lips even more so when they touch your throat, your shoulder, your raised hands. 

He folds his fingers between your own, pressing them into the pillows above your head. It’s a heady feeling being so full…of love, joy, of him. He fills the gaps of self doubt until you’re overflowing, until you’re glowing and radiant again in your own eyes. Mingyu makes you love yourself almost as much as he loves you and in turn, you try your hardest to give that back to him. 

Mingyu is your everything but he is also just a man. He’s a man who works hard to provide for his family, to raise his daughters with compassion and kindness, to support you in all things. He would gladly empty himself to fill your wells and so you spill a little bit back into his, filling him with that same love that keeps you both going.

Your hands slide over his strong back, appreciating every taut muscle that he uses to carry your girls around each day. You kiss his hands that are sometimes dried and calloused from cooking or cleaning or building things from scratch. You kiss him over and over, breathing life and love into his very lungs until it makes you both a little dizzy. It’s overwhelming and intense when you both climax, pressed hard against one another, unwillingly to part even for a moment. 

Mingyu’s breathing is heavy, his chest pinning you into the bed until he realizes he should probably roll off of you but the second he moves you tighten your arms around his shoulders and press another kiss to his jaw. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Mingyu smirks, eyes dipping from yours to your lips and back, “Thought I might be a little heavy.”

You shake your head and he smiles softly, meeting your lips in a slow, unhurried kiss. To just lay here, holding him, kissing him…not having to worry if the baby cries or Minhee will come knocking to crawl into bed between you. It’s time to savor. 

“I’m not done with you just yet,” you tell him between lazy kisses and he grins, nipping at your lower lip.

“I am all yours until lunch time tomorrow,” he snickers, “I only packed enough milk for breakfast…figured you would want the girls back as soon as we woke up anyway.”

“You know me so well,” you laugh, running your fingers through his hair, “I guess that means we’ll just have to use our time wisely, won’t we?”

Like a giant dog with renewed energy he bounces to his hands and knees above you, the obnoxious shifting of the mattress making you laugh. “I totally forgot to give you your anniversary gift!”

You’re too late reaching out to stop him from jumping out of bed but the sight of his naked backside speed walking toward the closet makes you snort and sit up against the pillows patiently. Without fail, Mingyu comes back and leaps onto the mattress, once again bouncing you like a piece of popcorn into the air. He grins and holds out a small box, “Open it.”

He places the box in your hand and watches every movement of your fingers untying the small red ribbon, pulling the top off, and then the inevitable gasp of surprise. In the box, upon velvet, sits a gold bracelet with several charms. You already have an inkling but when you meet his eyes, he grins proudly, “I designed it,” he confirms, “With help of course but I- yeah…”

He scoots up next to you and points to each charm, “This one has gems to match the bouquet you carried at our wedding. This is-”

“The cactus you bought me for our six month anniversary!” you finish with a broad smile and he nods in excitement. 

“Yeah! And then these two are for the girls, obviously, it has their birthstones and birth dates engraved,” he gently lifts the bracelet and pulls the clasp apart to show you how your wedding date is engraved there as well, “What do you think?”

“It’s really beautiful, Gyu,” you take the box and set it carefully upon the side table, “And it’s special. You put so much time and thought into this. Thank you so much, honey.”

Mingyu accepts your kiss and pulls you into his arms, “I left a little extra space for you know…other life events. We can add to it anytime…”

You look up at him in disbelief, “You were serious about the big family thing, huh?”

Mingyu shrugs, his bare chest moving beneath your back, “We make really really pretty babies.”

This is a man who memorizes his daughter’s ballet routines to help her practice at home. The same one who will walk around the grocery store with one child strapped to his front and another on his back like tactical wear. He loves being a dad, especially a girl dad. You supposed another couldn’t hurt….

You pause mid-thought, “Kim Mingyu! How dare you make me think thoughts!”

He quickly rolls you onto your back, pinning both hands above your head, “I can make you think no thoughts if you’d like.”

You scrunch your nose as if you might protest but he swoops down and shuts you up with another kiss and doesn’t let up until you’re putty in his hands once more. He drops another kiss and pulls back smiling, “Happy anniversary, baby.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and tug his back down to you, lips mere inches from where you’d like to keep them all night, “Happy anniversary.”

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