#took ages but I think they turned out great

[gattsuru]

As far as I know, none of them have any equivalent of the Long Night of the Soul (aka 'sort of permanent annoying low-grade bipolar disorder'), but I'm really skeptical of any analysis or discussion that treats any practice as an unalloyed good. Even stuff that people don't think of as mental practices has some benefits and tradeoffs if you do it long enough and seriously enough.

For a 'mainstream' example, the memory palace technique is one of the most well-attested mental practices for recall around with a long pedigree, readily reinvented, and it's great for handling things like file systems or groups of disjoint configuration files. Using and relying on it really heavily in a high school math context, however, made it very difficult for me to get in the practice of understanding and deriving critical formula. Things have tradeoffs; even tools that have free still make alternative tool development harder.

The only one from the above list that I've actually tried is therianthropy, and that was before the community got driven mostly off the public internet, so I can't tell if there's been many major changes in the practice since the WereWeb days.

At least as I saw it and saw others attempt it at the time, the core practice for therianthropy held that certain meditative exercises could encourage different looks at the world, different prioritization of senses, certain types of dreams, or sensory phenomena like a phantom sense for physical features that the practitioner never had. Most took some spiritual or religious component or 'explanation' for why some people found this interesting enough to try, and I wouldn't be surprised if that made things more effective, but a lot of it seemed to work for me without any religious or spiritual belief.

Which is kinda the trouble. Most skeptics of this sorta stuff focus on it being completely made up, and that's not entirely unreasonable, since a lot of this sorta new age stuff is at best borrowing respectability from other traditions in the same sense that English borrows words from other languages -- badly and without understanding the full picture. But the other aspect is that even if they do what is claimed, that's not some unadulterated good.

'Give yourself a phantom sense for a tail or wiggly ears' probably seems actively uncomfortable to normal people! Intentionally triggering it feels kinda nice, as someone who was trying, but literally a decade later it can still happen unintentionally in ways that range from the awkward to the uncomfortable. Does this mean therians are selecting from the people who'd want that, or do therians self-modify to 'want' it, or something weirder?

The meditative exercises themselves have some costs in addition to the time commitment, especially where 'mentally go through actions that seem like iconic behaviors for you' might involve behaviors that aren't ideal for humans to actually do. There was a common criticism back in the werewolf.com days that therians tended to want to emulate the pretty or iconic bits of animal behavior rather than the goofy ones like sniffing butts (which, uh, kinda funny given how many therian have turned out to be gay or bi), but a lot of iconic animal behaviors are still not built for human psychology or physiology. I'm not going to claim that the meditative practice of imagining the animal staring into me is the only reason I have trouble with eye contact, but it was not an unusual problem at the time.

Quadrobics is a common enough thing that non-therian furries joke about it, but it's almost universal as a temptation among therians. And outside of the social weirdness if you ever do it in public -- and some parts of it stop seeming like weird things to therians -- older therian and furries having it (or prosthetics) absolutely wreck their ankles is a serious, if stupid, concern.

Tulpas, especially in the 2000s-2008 time period, were generally broken into more instrumental frameworks, ranging from actually-this-is-just-mental-exercises to griftery-it's-magick. There was a lot of contemporaneous concern that this would have some sort of mental upkeep cost, where once a tulpa or personality was developed it would take up brain power that wouldn't be available to the normal personality, but this seems about as well-tested as any fringe (or tbf not-fringe) social science gets, and no one's been able to show any measurable effect.

((The griftery-it's-magick side [cw: not good idea to mess with even if you don't believe it] made some promises that would be really really scary if anyone believed in them -- do you really want to rewire your subconcious to act in ways to do whatever is necessary to achieve a goal? because that sounds a lot like making yourself into a sociopath -- but afaict no one actually believes it.))

The version popularized by 4channers and MLP (cfe III here) is more like a variant of writer's syndrome, where characters start taking on a life of their own, and sometimes the mask is useful to consider. This does genuinely seem like it has some uses, where people end up a lot more willing or able to natively consider viewpoints or decisions that they wouldn't want or be willing to consider before, but it's not nearly as fancy.

A lot of tulpa-focused communities report benefits, though afaict they haven't been substantiated with any sort of time component necessary to hint at causation or even correlation. Other surveys give personality trait values that are less ideal, again with the no time component issue.

On the other hand, these communities do regularly describe increasing issues with attention and focus (in an 'absent-minded professor' sense, not a DID sense), and my own interactions with people cultivating tulpas tend to support it as something that they gained rather than something they came into the community already having. Which isn't too surprising, if the goal is supposed to be literally having conversations with yourself at length!

... and which is pretty Not Good if you don't like that sorta thing. I don't think I've heard of a tulpamancer unable to shut down or shut up a tulpa, but there's definitely been a number who found themselves arguing with themselves a lot. Would drive me nuts.

Multiplicity (or the plural community?), I'm only really indirectly familiar with due to its prevalence in certain parts of the modded Minecraft community. I think they'd consider multiplicity itself an inherent state, and cultivation and integration the mental practice(s), but I dunno if I understand or can understand the matter well enough to handle it.

The lies to children version I got was to consider it as kinda tulpas++; either intentional, unintentional, or trauma-caused development of unusually complex personalities (even by tulpamancer standards).

But even assuming all of this is true, it's got some pretty significant costs. Agnes Nitt and Perdita in Maskerade have some benefits to being what they are, but it doesn't make either of them happier, and that follows to most nonfictional people trying it. Even in highly plural-focused communities with specialized software supporting them, simple conversation can be hard! QuiltMC's got a lot of software and social technology set up to make it hard to accidentally mistake one personality for another, but even there it still happens; in the real world, I'd assume it's a pretty constant thing. There are simple time and energy tradeoffs.

That might be unavoidable for people who didn't intent to end up plural, but some of them specifically work for it, and the end result is a mixed bag by its own advocates. That's not as exciting as giving yourself actual DID, as a lot of critics worry about, but it's a lot more honest.

losing my shit at this

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Nowhere Land

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: A handsome stranger comes into your workplace and makes you rethink your life choices.

A/N: Sebastian Stan, the man that you are...

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

This what you wanted. Boring and plain. So tired of the hustle and bustle, the pressures from family, from society. This is why you decided to uproot your life and move to the small town of Chastity. A large portion of the population being people over the age of fifty. You're probably one of the youngest people in town until one of families of the residents comes through to visit.

You do see the appeal of the small town. Everyone knows everyone and they all give a sense of warm familiarity, but, of course, are weary of strangers.

It took them a few weeks to warm up to you when you first moved there.

Now, they treat you as one of their own.

_______________________________

You're wiping down a table when the bell above the door rings.

"Welcome, take any empty seat you'd like!" you holler before looking up at the new customer.

You freeze when your eyes fall upon a handsome man. He's donning a disheveled tuxedo. His hair looks like he ran his fingers through it a million times and he's donning a five o'clock shadow.

His piercing blue eyes stare back at yours and he nods, He proceeds to take a seat at the far, opposite end of the diner.

Lunch rush just ended and the other server working today, Adell, is taking a smoke break. So that means you have to take the man's order.

You stroll up to him, and hand him a menu, "Anything to drink?"

"A black coffee, please."

You nod and let the man peruse the menu. You go behind the counter, grabbing a mug, and pour the guy his coffee.

You come back, setting the mug down, "Need a few more minutes?"

"I'll just take the BLT with fries."

You scribble his order into your notepad and without looking up, you ask, "Did you wanna add a soup or salad with it for an extra five dollars?"

"Nah, I'm good, thanks." He hands you the menu, which you accept.

You pause, "Sorry, but I gotta ask...are you a runaway groom?"

The man looks at you wide-eyed and confused, "Huh?"

You shrug and gesture to his outfit, "Your suit is all disheveled and you look distressed, so I figured you were a runaway groom. Left his bride at the altar kind of deal?"

The man looks down at his outfit and snorts, "Guess it does look that way, huh? But, uh, no. Had to travel for, uh, work. Flight got cancelled and couldn't wait, so I'm just passing through for some rest."

You pout a little, "How boring. Shame. Would've made a great story to tell some of my usuals here."

The handsome man chuckles and softly smiles at you, "Sorry to disappoint." He holds out his hand, "I'm Bucky."

You take his hand and shake it, "Nice to meet you, Bucky. I'm Y/N. Hope you enjoy your short time in Chastity."

"Thanks," with that, you leave him to his cup of coffee.

______________________________

Adell's come back from her break and she immediately fans herself after getting a look at Bucky, "If only if I was a little younger..." she says which has you giggling.

"He says he's not a runaway groom, but he very much looks like one, dontcha think?"

"Well, if he needs a bride," Adell nudges at you jokingly before handing you Bucky's order.

You chuckle as you walk away to serve Bucky's meal, "Here ya go. Did you need anything else?"

"I'm good, thanks," he gives you a nod and you turn to head back behind the counter.

You and Adell continue to chat while Bucky eats. Occasionally, you'll glance at him in case he may need anything, but other than that, you let him be.

"You should ask him out for a drink or something," Adell suggests as you both sip your own cups of coffee, enjoying the lull in work.

You snort into your mug and shake your head, "Absolutely not. Guy like him is definitely already taken. Might as well not embarrass myself."

Adell lightly slaps your shoulder, "Oh come on! Doesn't hurt. The worst he can say is no! You're probably never going to see him again, so what's the harm?"

You sigh, "Maybe. We'll see."

You hear footsteps approaching so you turn. You give Bucky a soft smile, "Oh sorry! Did you need something?"

He slides his empty plate and cup to you, "I'm actually finished."

"No dessert?"

He chuckles, "Tempting, but no. I should really get some sleep before I have to head out early in the morning."

"Of course," you say in understanding.

He hands you some bills and mumbles, "Keep the change, and thanks."

"Thank you as well. Enjoy the rest of your short time in Chastity," you give him a small wave and watch as he exits the diner.

You hear Adell tsking behind you, "Chicken."

You laugh and shake your head while you put the money in the cash register and put the remaining change in your apron.

______________________

The sun is starting to set when your shift ends, the warmth going along with it.

You zip-up your hoodie to protect you from the chill as you head down the road towards the neighborhood of mobile homes where you reside.

As you're walking down the road, the setting sun casting a golden ray upon you, you hear a car roll by. You don't pay attention to it until it stops and reverses. It stops at you and the window rolls down, "You okay?" You see Bucky peering at you through the window. He's changed out of his suit. He now dons a black t-shirt that hugs his bice-wait. One of this arms is made out of metal?

"Y/N?" he says your name and asks again, "Are you okay? Do you need a ride?"

"Oh, uh, no. I'm good. I just live in that neighborhood there," you point to the mobile homes up ahead, "I always walk to work and from work when the weather permits." You continue your walk and Bucky follows in a slow roll.

"You sure? I'm headed in that direction anyway to the bar-"

"The Gold Anchor or The Garage?"

"Uh, Gold Anchor. Guy at the motel says it's the best of the two?"

You snort, "That guy was probably Travis and he doesn't know shit about which bar is the best because he only likes to drink lukewarm Coors."

Bucky's brows shoot up in surprise and he smirks amusement, "Soooo I shouldn't go to the Golden Anchor?" He occassionally glances at the road to make sure he won't hit anyone, even if he's going at such a slow pace.

"I've only lived here for almost two years, but I can safely say that The Garage is the better bar." You keep your eyes ahead to the path towards your neighborhood.

Bucky then stops the car, causing you to pause in your step. He leans over and opens the passenger door, "Come with me then."

It's your turn to look surprised, "Huh?"

He shrugs, "Come have a drink with me. I don't feel like drinking alone and I'll cover your drinks. Win-win situation."

You take a moment to weigh out your options. You either go home alone to eat leftovers and watch Netflix or go to a bar with this hot stranger.

"Alright. Why not?" you say with a shrug and you hop into his car, closing the door behind you.

_____________________________

"So you're not a local," Bucky states as he gives a nod of thanks to Luis, the bartender and owner of The Garage.

You shake your head after sipping your own drink, "Moved here two years ago. Was tired of living in the city, working a job I hated, dating a guy that didn't really love me, and hearing my family constantly badger me about settling down now."

Bucky whistles, "Yeah, that sounds like a lot. So out of all places, why here?"

"It's in the middle of nowhere. The only rush I need to deal with is lunch rush and even then, it's not overwhelming. I enjoy the close knit of this community. Everyone cares about each other, they look out for one another."

"And you enjoy your job?"

"It's easy and it pays the bills. Living here isn't super expensive either. And no one cares if you have the latest car or newest phone or trends. We're all just living life."

Bucky sighs and begins to stare at the perspiration on his beer bottle, "Sounds nice, actually. My job is a lot too, but I don't have the luxury to quit and move to Nowhere Land."

"Got a wife and family that depend on you?" you ask with a playful snort, but you're also trying to find out a little more about him.

He chuckles, "No, more like a clingy cat and an even clingier best friend."

You perk up at the mention of a cat, "What's your cat's name and do you have pictures?"

Bucky immediately pulls out his phone and opens his album which is mostly pictures of a white cat, "Here she is. That's Alpine. Found her as a kitten in an alley by my place. Couldn't leave her there so I took her in. Planned on bringing her to the shelter, but I instantly fell in love with her." He swipes through various photos of the white cat. Some of her sleeping, some of her chilling on his shoulder, and others of her on a motorcycle.

"She likes riding with you?"

Bucky beams with pride, "Loves it. I even got her her own goggles and helmet. I have a backpack for her to hang out in while I ride around."

"She's adorable. I want a pet, but not sure if I'm ready for that kind of commitment yet."

He nods in understanding, "Taking care of a pet can be a lot, but they provide a lot of comfort, love, and companionship."

"I'll get one eventually. Maybe soon."

You two fall into a comfortable silence. Music plays in the background from the jukebox. There's a lull of chatter among some of the patrons, but nothing that makes you want to eavesdrop.

So you direct your attention back to Bucky, "So what is that you exactly do?"

"I, uh, work for the government."

"So let me guess, everything is classified and you can't tell me a thing?"

"Yup."

"Do you know Captain America?"

He snorts, "I do, actually."

"Impressive."

Bucky clears his throat, "So you really don't know who I am?"

You slowly shake your head, "Nooo...should I? I mean, you kind of look familiar, but it's probably because I saw you in my dreams," you slip in that little pick up line and it causes Bucky to breakout into laughter.

"That was very impressive and very cute of you."

"Thanks, I try," you give him a nonchalant shrug, "But seriously, I don't think I know who you are. Are you going to tell me?"

He looks away and thinks for moment. He hums and then responds, "Nah. I don't think so."

"Well alright," you hold your drink up, "To anonymity."

"Cheers to that," Bucky says with a grin and clinks his glass against yours.

___________________

You two spend three hours at the bar, drinking and chatting. True to his word, Bucky covered your drinks, as well as the order of fries you ordered.

With more alcohol in your system, you were bold enough to invite him back to yours, but he declined.

He drove you back to yours and walked you to your door only to make sure you got inside safely.

You thanked him for the drinks and wished him well.

You fell asleep and dreamt of riding on a motorcycle with a white cat clinging to your shoulder. Your arms wrapped around a strong and handsome man.

If you couldn't see Bucky again, at least you could see him in your dreams.

[mydogatemymotivation]

I kind of think that people focus a little too much on the Lasat Merc that Kallus mentioned in the Honorable Ones. I get it, because it's an interesting scene that Kallus describes but I think focusing on the mercenary himself is, like, not the point. I don't know whether he worked for Saw long term and was a partisan himself, or if he was just a hired gun because Saw needed some extra muscle, but him staying hidden and kind of shrouded in mystery is just so much better for Kallus.

First of all, focusing on the merc makes what happened to Kallus kind of fall to the wayside, it takes the focus off of him almost entirely. I do think that it makes sense from Kallus' pov because I think he fixates on the mercenary after the fact, maybe as a way to cope, but there was a lot more going on with him specifically.

He was the only survivor, for one. No matter what side someone was on, surviving that situation is traumatizing. Especially with the calculated way Kallus described it (we also have to remember that he may be something of an unreliable narrator here, he's traumatized and biased). I remember watching The Pianist which was, unfortunately, a great movie (I say unfortunately because it's a Roman Polanski film, and I had no idea about the allegations at the time) (I watched it for class and wrote a paper about it, WWII movie) but there's a scene in it where there are people who are laid on the ground face down and shot in the back of the head one-by-one, except the last one because the soldiers clip runs out. So he takes the time, standing above this guy, to reload his gun, then shoots. Even just as a film scene that shit stuck with me. You can't tell me that living through that and not knowing whether or not the gun was going to turn on you wouldn't be the reason you have nightmares for the rest of your life. You can debate about motivations and the partisans all you want, but it doesn't change the fact that living through that means you're never sleeping through the night again.

Kallus also says that he couldn't move. I don't know if he was pinned down, or if he was in shock, but I always took it to mean some kind of injury. Something like an incomplete paralysis, nerve damage to his spine, that causes temporary paralysis. Long recovery time, surgeries, physical and/or occupational therapy, etc.

He would've been a very young boy, trying to do good (even if he was misguided), injured, unable to move, watching all the boys his age die one-by-one, waiting for his turn, being the only survivor, the medical trauma, the physical pain - that mercenary doesn't need to be evil to make this properly traumatizing for Kallus. He could be a completely neutral actor.

Second of all, Kallus' anger at the mercenary is exaggerated. He's angry at himself. A lot of people I think ask the question of "how did Kallus stay with the Empire after what happened on Lasan?" Honestly, I think the answer is denial. There's no way to deny what happened on Lasan, but there is a way to bury your head in the sand. Not ask questions, assume that there was some grand plan you're just unaware of and that if you knew all the details then everything would make sense, put more trust in the people you definitely shouldn't be trusting, and find someone else to blame. Basically, double, even triple, down, because if you don't then everything you've done is for nothing. He takes his anger out on Zeb and clings to this narrative about this mercenary to try and throw together some explanation he can get behind mentally. Also keep in mind that Lasan happened like, two years or so before the beginning of the show. So as little time as Zeb has had to deal with what happened to his home, Kallus also has had two years of mental spiraling to try and tie himself into knots to justify what happened, and he only seemed to get crueler and angrier in that time frame (that random stormtrooper he kicked to death??). It wasn't until he was able to talk to someone about what happened (and I don't imagine talk therapy is encouraged in the Empire) that he was able to come back around. Kallus only lasted three, maybe three and a half years after Lasan before he finally couldn't take it and left (and, maybe it's just me, but I don't really count his time under Vader. You do what Vader says in order to survive)(but that could completely be my perspective). But all the while, every time he fought Zeb, he was fighting that mercenary and himself.

The mercenary left him alive because 1) he just flat out didn't see him, 2) Kallus was so badly injured he thought Kallus was dead, 3) Kallus was the only one without a helmet and the mercenary saw a young boy. We never see this mercenary. I don't know if he died, or if he left the partisans after deciding he didn't like Gererra's tactics, or if he was a hired gun whose job was done. Either way, I don't think Kallus should ever see him again. I don't know if I have the words to explain why (sorry if I repeat myself, but I'm trying to put words to my thoughts) but somehow Kallus' ability to let this issue go, in my mind, is directly tied to his ability to heal from the Empire. I don't necessarily think that this is a thread he needs to chase, or an issue he needs closure on. His lingering resentment is petty and small compared to Zeb's capacity to forgive, and I think he would beat himself up for still feeling angry. His ability to close the door on this is directly related to his ability to accept Zeb's forgiveness. When people talk about the mercenary, I just, I feel like, they're missing what the mercenary is for Kallus. And in real life I could understand wanting answers about something that happened to you, but in this instance, narratively, the mercenary is left unnamed for a reason. This character is a catalyst or a shadow in Kallus' story, he's not meant to be examined for his own sake, he's meant to be examined for what he means to Kallus.

Idk hopefully this makes sense I should've gone to bed a while ago, this was just something I've had on my mind for a minute. (and as always, this isn't me trying to absolve Kallus of anything he did, just thinking, trying to understand him, etc., cuz he's interesting)

[daydreamgoddess14]

💫 For Your Consideration - Act 3 💫

actor!Bucky x fem!actress!Reader (no use of y/n, l/n, reader is not described in any great detail. I save that for the gowns 💃)

Warnings: Hollywood AU, language, internet nasties, flirty!Bucky, a little power imbalance, age-gap (Bucky is around 40, actress reader is closer to 30 or younger if you prefer 🤭)... more to be added later.

Bucky Barnes, the suave and talented leading man of the 'Winter Soldier' movie series, finds himself on the red carpet circuit during awards season with his latest film 'The Howling Commandos'. But the season takes an unexpected turn when he crosses paths with a mesmerizing newcomer - the actress who has become the talk of Tinseltown with her captivating performance in her most recent film. Sparks fly as they navigate silly season in Hollywood, with a spotlight on their every move will their chemistry ignite a real life romance?

Note: I used Daisy for these insta posts just because their chemistry was so great, and the pictures fit perfectly. She's just here for the ~vibes~, not as a descriptor.

Tagging: @winchestert101 •

< Prev Act | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Next Act >

NOVEMBER 2025

It was a small set with only a tight crew, so it was easy to pick out her voice amongst the group. She had her back turned, talking animatedly with someone from her studio. Her posture, her laugh, everything about her pulled him in like a magnet.

"You're staring," Sam’s voice broke through his thoughts.

Bucky shook his head and turned to look at his best friend with a glare, but Sam’s grin was too knowing.

"I’m not staring," he muttered, his face flushing.

"Right. Sure, just... looking intensely." Sam shook his head, still smirking. "You should just go talk to her."

Bucky turned his attention back to her. She hadn’t noticed him yet, but his heart still thudded in his chest.

“I don’t do this,” he muttered.

“You do today, buddy, that's the whole idea of the segment. And behave yourself, she's already nervous.” Sam slapped him on the back and headed in her direction, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Bucky exhaled slowly, trying to relax himself. He’d been in front of cameras more times than he could count, had done press junkets in five different time zones in the same week. But this felt… different.

When she finally turned, her eyes scanned the room, then landed on him.

The shift was immediate. The polite, professional smile she'd just given Sam faltered, just for a second, as recognition dawned. Then it curved into something more genuine. Something warm.

He raised a hand in greeting.

She hovered in the space between them, clearly debating whether or not to cross the studio floor and go to him.

He was surprised when she did.

“Hi,” she said, and her voice was a little breathless, like she hadn’t expected any of their surroundings to be real until now.

“Hi,” he echoed.

“It's nice to meet you,” she held out her hand and he took it.

“You too, properly this time.”

They sat in the two velvet seats angled toward each other, while production assistants moved the lighting, the table, shifted her chair a little more, adjusted the set dressings…

For a second, they were quiet while they were fussed over.

Then she grinned. “So… this is happening.”

He laughed, relaxing an inch. “This is happening.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do I get to tell you I’m a fan now, or should I wait until it’s being recorded?”

“Depends,” he said, leaning back. “Do I get to tell you I’ve seen your movie twice?”

Her eyes widened. “Twice?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about the chair,” he deadpanned.

She burst out laughing just as the producer called “Rolling in thirty seconds.”

You heard laughter before you realised he'd arrived, you'd had your back to the door talking with a publicist from the studio.

They were lovely, and calming, but you couldn't help wishing you had Dani or Lulu around for moral support.

They could read your emotions and fears from a single breath.

When Sam Wilson, the man whose laughter you'd heard, gently placed a hand on your shoulder as he walked past, and smiled warmly, you turned to see Bucky in the doorway.

He looked just as composed as you remembered from the festival, though this time… there was something else. A softness around the eyes, maybe. The faintest smile tugging at his mouth as he spotted you.

Oh.

He was more handsome up close than you remembered. That wasn’t entirely fair.

“Nice to meet you,” you managed, your voice steadier than you felt as you stepped forward and held out your hand.

“You too, properly this time.” He said, his palm was warm against yours.

You were still recovering from the feel of it when the producer’s voice called out final cues.

As you both sat down, the lights flicked brighter and people milled around you.

It felt like you needed to get it off your chest, the fact that you were a fan, that you enjoyed his movies.

“Do I get to tell you I’m a fan now, or should I wait until it’s being recorded?” You asked cautiously, tucking your hair behind your ear.

You couldn't believe it when he said he'd seen your movie twice. Once, yes, you'd seen him there with your own eyes, but twice?

“Couldn’t stop thinking about the chair,” he told you calmly just as the director called rolling in thirty.

The sound of your laughter filled the set, the red light on the camera blinked on.

And just like that, it began.

“So, how’s playing Sally Bowles been for you?” He asked, leaning forward slightly, genuinely interested. More interested than he probably should be.

“Well, it’s a challenge,” she admitted, her body settling into the chair like she was finally letting herself breathe. “It’s so much more than just the party girl act. You have to balance the darkness and the energy, but also stay grounded enough to play a woman who is truly struggling with addiction and self-worth. There’s a quote I think about a lot by another Sally: ‘The contradiction of playing Sally Bowles is you have to be sober, rested, well fed and hydrated to play a drunk, addicted party girl.’”

He smiled, something catching in his chest. The way she spoke about her work, there was no performance in it. She meant every word. “That makes perfect sense,” he said. “Sounds like all of my prep.”

“Yeah? Hydration is the key, right?” She grinned.

That grin knocked something loose in him.

“So what drew you to The Commandos?” She asked, tilting her head. “Other than the obvious chance to play the brooding leader?”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “That was pretty high on the list. No, I liked that it didn’t let the character off easy. He’s messy, broken. Still trying to be good. That kind of struggle… it’s human.” He paused, then looked at her, really, looked at her. “Same with your Sally.”

She paused, just for a moment, and then nodded.

“Yeah. People think Sally’s all glamour, but there’s this slow erosion underneath. You can’t fake that. You have to build it in piece by piece. You had a guy that was already on his knees -”

“And I had to build him back up, piece by piece,” he echoed, feeling the words settle somewhere deep. She got it. Not just the performance, him.

“You made it feel like Sally didn’t know she was falling apart,” he added, softer this time. “That was the most devastating part.”

“Thank you,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat quickly, like she was trying to shake off the weight of his compliment.

He wanted to say something else. Something funny, maybe, to let her breathe again.

“What about you?” She asked before he could, “you’ve done so many action-heavy things, do you ever just want to sit in a room and cry on cue?”

“I mean, I basically did that on set anyway,” he said with a smirk. “They just edited it out.”

She laughed again, and he couldn’t help but lean in closer, drawn in by the sound.

“Yeah. I like work that cracks something open,” he admitted. “Makes you feel a little exposed. You can tell when you’re in the room with someone doing that.”

“Like you were saying before, messy and human,” she nodded.

“Exactly,” he murmured, his eyes not leaving her face.

As the interview moved on, he found himself wanting to just listen to everything she had to say.

He usually hated interviews and talking about himself, but she seemed so open and curious, he wanted to mirror her.

“So, how did you end up working with Yelena Belova? She’s amazing,” she held her hands up in awe.

“She just called, out of the blue, said, “I wrote this with you in mind.” Which is either really flattering or really threatening,” he started eagerly.

“Or both,” she added.

“Or both. She has such a clear vision, and the way she directs people is incredible. It's made me really appreciate the creative process from a new perspective. I couldn’t say no. She's sharp. Fierce. Kinda terrifying in the best way… I've got a friend for life in Yelena. How about you? How did you end up swapping a stage for a movie set?”

“I guess this film was kind of an extension of where I already was, I’d been doing musicals on stage, and this just... happened completely by chance.”

“That old chestnut,” he rolled his eyes in jest and she reached out to swat him gently.

“It's true,” she insisted. “When I auditioned for this role, I wasn’t even on the list. I’d got my times mixed up, showed up at the wrong place. The stagehand shoved me on without checking anything. If he had, he would’ve sent me away… I was meant to be there. Otherwise I never would’ve gotten this role.”

He sat back in his seat with a soft smile.

“Haven't told anyone that before,” she blushed.

“And now you're here. Fate, huh?”

“Fate.” She whispered.

You were suddenly fully aware of his eyes on you. It felt like he was seeing straight through you, right to your bones. The air between you was taut.

“Fate,” you echoed, barely audibly, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

Bucky cleared his throat, the corner of his mouth twitching. “So... can I ask how you feel about being immortalised by that poster?”

Your jaw dropped as you were momentarily caught off guard by the shift from intense to relaxed, then let out a laugh. “Well… it's weird because my face isn't exactly the main focus of our movie poster.”

Bucky grinned, settling back into his chair like he’d been waiting for the joke. “Really? I hadn't noticed.”

“Is that so?” You dared.

“Yeah, like I said earlier, I was taken in by the carpentry, to be honest.”

“You studied it, then?”

“Purely for research. I’m very thorough when it comes to furniture.”

“Well, if you know anyone that needs a chair model, my rates are negotiable.”

“I’ll talk to my agent,” he smirked. “That chair’s been living rent-free in my brain ever since.”

You couldn't help your grin widening at his comment. “Wow. Must’ve been some impressive craftsmanship.”

“It really was. Clean lines. Great structure. Memorable silhouette.”

“Memorable, hmm?” You pinched your lips together in an effort to hide just how amusing you found him.

“Unforgettable, actually.”

“You’re a lot more dangerous than you look,” you said, half-laughing as you settled deeper into your chair.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? That so?”

You nodded. “You’re funny, you’re sharp… people should be warned.”

“I’ll put it in my bio.”

Your smile lingered as you looked down at your lap. “Honestly? I was terrified to do this interview.”

He looked genuinely surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. You’ve got that super cool guy, intense stare, probably hates small talk kind of reputation.” You shrugged, sitting back in your chair.

“I do hate small talk,” he agreed with a smile.

“I knew it.” Your laughed before adding, “You’re way more fun than I expected.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he warned, “I’ve got a brand to maintain.”

“Ahh, too late! I’m screenshotting every joke for future blackmail,” you giggled.

“Guess I’ll have to keep being funny, then.”

He smiled like it was a promise.

You vaguely heard the crew calling wrap, but neither of you moved.

He glanced over as a technician leaned in to unhook his mic, and you stood, brushing your hands down your skirt, suddenly aware of his eyes still on you.

“It was really nice talking to you,” you said, your voice lower now, a little softer. It felt strange, trying to close the distance with words after talking non-stop for two hours.

“Yeah. You too.”

His gaze hadn’t dropped. It didn’t waver.

You hesitated, then stepped closer, heart racing. “I feel like... we’ve earned a hug?”

His mouth curved, his smile giving you butterflies. “More than earned.”

He pulled you into his arms, and for a second, the ground under your feet slipped sideways. He was solid warmth. His steady breath lingered against your ear, a contrast to your own shaky exhale, he had one large hand low on your back, the other pressing just firmly enough to make you forget how to stand.

You didn’t mean to linger. But you did.

So did he.

When you finally pulled back, your fingertips skimmed his arm a second too long, like they didn’t want to let go. He looked at you and you felt his gaze trap you, like a spark catching the hem of something flammable.

Someone called your name. You turned your head reluctantly.

And when you looked back at him, it was with a smile you couldn’t quite contain.

Bucky stepped outside into the fading light, the buzz of the interview still vibrating under his skin. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake the ridiculous grin tugging at his mouth.

She’d surprised him. Undone him, a little.

It wasn’t just the way she looked, though, sure, that didn’t hurt, but it was the way she talked. The way she held her ground, made him laugh, made him feel like maybe he wasn’t so closed off after all.

They were supposed to be promoting their films. Instead, he’d spent most of the interview feeling like he was on a date.

He could hear Sam in his ear; “You should just go talk to her.”

He had. And now he didn’t want any of it to end.

His thumb hovered over Instagram. Her profile was already pulled up.

He didn’t even remember doing that.

His jaw flexed.

Her laugh still echoed in his ears, real and effortless. God, he hadn’t expected her to be funny. It messed with his head a little, how fast she’d gone from “the girl from the festival” to someone he couldn’t stop trying to impress.

Sam was waiting in the hallway, scrolling through something on his phone. “You gonna ask her out or just write sonnets about her in your Notes app?”

Bucky shoved him lightly. “Shut up.”

“Bucky-thinks-he’s-slick-but-he’s-smitten,” Sam’s singsong voice followed him down the corridor toward the exit.

But Bucky’s heart was thudding louder than Sam’s teasing.

She was unexpected.

Sharp, grounded, warm. And more than that… interested. Maybe?

And he already wanted more.

He wondered what the appropriate amount of time was to wait before sending her a message.

What did normal people do?

He didn’t do this. Didn’t date, didn’t flirt. Barely socialised.

He finished his movies, promoted them when he was told to, and then disappeared back to quiet routines and the safety of anonymity.

But The Howling Commandos was different.

It was already generating as much buzz as his Winter Soldier series ever had, maybe more… but this wasn’t just popcorn cinema. This was the first time his name had been mentioned in conjunction with awards season.

And to campaign? To be in with a shot?

He had to step out of his comfort zone.

Maybe that started with a DM.

He mulled it over for a day or two.

Then the promotional clips dropped.

And because the studios had money to make and investors and fans to please… They started with a clip of the hug.

He knew it had reached a fever pitch when Sam sent him a TikTok with the caption “That’s not an interview, that’s foreplay.”

He read Sam's accompanying message and gritted his teeth, speaking his own reply into existence, “this is all out of context and you know it.”

He scrolled past another fancam titled ‘I fear we are in our enemies to friends to lovers to Academy Award-winning power couple era.’

He shut the app. Opened it again ten seconds later.

This was ridiculous. He’d done movies with Oscar winners, shared red carpets with people he grew up watching.

But she was the one he couldn’t stop thinking about.

He watched it all unfold, his heart bouncing off the walls of his chest, but he still hadn’t messaged.

It wasn’t just the hug, or the interview.

It was everything.

He stared at her profile photo in his DMs.

Typed a message. Deleted it.

Typed again.

hey, was great meeting you yesterday. you did great, it was the most fun I’ve had in an interview in a long time. BB

You watched the promo clips drop from a hotel room.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner. You were curled under the duvet, your phone held inches from your face, the screen cast a pale blue glow over you.

There’s ship names, screengrabs, slowed-down footage of you both, memes, headlines… So many headlines.

“Interview Chemistry Sends Fans into a Frenzy”, “Cabaret Queen and Commandos Star: Something Brewing?”

You curled further into bed, feeling more overwhelmed with each flick of your thumb.

Twitter was a war zone.

Your name was trending. His name was trending.

Every clip of the interview had already been dissected, subtitled, turned into thirsty little edits that made your stomach flip with secondhand embarrassment.

“the way he LOOKS at her???”

“they’re already married in my mind”

You dropped the phone to your chest, breathing out slowly.

It had all felt so real in the moment. You weren’t performing. You’d forgotten about the cameras halfway through, forgotten about the entire world watching.

And now you had to wonder - you couldn't not - was he performing? Was he playing up to the camera? Knowing it would generate… this?

Every time you refreshed, there were a hundred more posts.

Edits. Threads. Think pieces.

Some were calling it PR genius.

Some were calling it love at first sight.

You had to laugh at that one.

It was just an interview. Two people talking.

You'd had coffee dates with less eye contact.

And yet...

You watched another clip, muted.

The moment right after you'd teased him, when he looked at you like he knew things he wasn’t supposed to.

Your stomach flipped, traitorous and warm.

You opened Twitter again and switched to the Trending page.

Big mistake.

It sent you spiraling.

Should you have said less? More? Did you come across too eager? Was it that obvious that you liked him?

The internet certainly thought so.

You watched clips of the interview stitched next to slowed-down footage of the hug.

That only sent you further downwards.

How long would it be before the comments turned? Before you were portrayed as desperate? Fake? Scheming?

It wouldn't be the first time.

You locked your phone, tossed it to the other side of the bed like it had burned you.

Tried to breathe.

Tried not to care.

Your chest felt tight, your heart raced.

You needed your dad.

He'd pick you back up, with a hug, a large gin and his famous lemon drizzle cake.

Across the bed, a notification lit up your screen.

Followed by a buzz against the soft sheets.

You sighed, expecting another alert, another headline.

But it was a message. From him.

You stared at it.

Read it twice. Three times.

Your stomach twisted, then swooped.

Ok.

Ok.

You weren’t going to read into it.

You picked the phone up like it might bite, thumbs hovering uselessly.

What were you even supposed to say?

Thanks? You too?

God, you were an adult. A professional. Get it together.

You typed a reply.

Deleted it.

Tried again.

Sent.

Regretted.

Immediately locked your phone again and buried your face in the duvet.

You didn't expect a reply, but there was another buzz.

He called you doll.

Who were you kidding, he probably called everyone doll.

You replied again, another response that absolved him of any need to reply.

You set your phone down slowly and stared at the ceiling with a stupid smile.

You were in so much trouble.

God help you if he replied again.

God help you if he didn't.

[the-nwah-embassy]

Alright, long ass thing under the cut, because who cares. But yeah, there are a lot of reasons I personally think that remaking Morrowind is a terrible fucking idea.

For starters, because not everything needs a cash-grabby new release/remake, especially when the studio has proven it has utterly lost the magic that made the initial games great. Look at the blandness that is Starfield. The cookie-cutter 'rpg' that is so soulless that even Sithis doesn't want it. It's just the latest fad in gaming to remake an old successful title whenever you need a little extra cash, and it's getting old. Fast.

Imo, Morrowind is just fine how it is. Hell, I'd argue that Oblivion is just fine how it is. I can see why people want a remaster, sure. The games are aged and sure as hell show that age, sure, but part of its aging is it has a complexity and nuance to it from way back when that most game studios can't/won't touch these days because everything has to be totally user friendly for the casual gamer to enjoy. And there's nothing wrong with user friendly! It's totally fine!--for some games. But others, like Morrowind, it literally sucks clean the soul of the game and leaves a husk.

In the same vein of your logic, you could also just not play Morrowind if you don't like it as is. Just because some people don't like it or the way it was made doesn't mean it needs to be remade to try and snag them into playing it again. It's like making Dark Souls/Elden Ring with an easy mode, or redoing Portal for people who don't like puzzle games. Not all games are for all people, and they don't need to be.

That's part of why games are so milquetoast and watered down these days-- because every game is trying to cater to every single person in the market to make the most amount of money possible. They aren't made with passion or love like so many of them were back in the day. The shitty capitalistic studios want everyone as a demographic, so in the end, the result is that no one truly is. Wide as an ocean, deep as a puddle. And don't confuse that with them caring about you and your opinions on games-- it's literally nothing but an attempt to get your money.

Look, I understand what you're saying. But remaking Morrowind is playing with fire (no Dunmer pun intended.) There's a litany of problems that comes with remaking older games like that, beyond even inviting new discourse.

For example, the lore of Skyrim and the reality of the game are vastly different because they wanted it to appeal to a regular 'fantasy' audience without having all of the strange, alien nature of Morrowind that might alienate potential players. As such, Morrowind, as it is, is 'unfriendly' and would need to have the edges shaved down and softened to achieve their sales goal and to even make back the money it took to remake it. Every remake is a risk, and companies minimize that risk by any means necessary. The integrity of their IPs mean nothing to them. Just look at the Fable reboot (RIP Lionhead.)

Morrowind is hostile at the best of times, and that's part of why it's so beloved. It's unique! It's alien! It's strange! And it's so damn hostile! You are an outlander in a hostile land that doesn't want you there! You aren't treated like a stud from the second mission like you are in Skyrim! You aren't the Hero of Kvatch, and it isn't an honour to meet you! These people do not like you, and you still have to save them. Even then, a lot of them still won't fucking like you! You are their reincarnated Lord, and they still show you no damn respect! You are hardened and disrespected and assaulted and insulted at every turn! The people want you dead! The creatures want you dead! The fucking landscape wants you dead! You contract a deadly disease and people won't even speak to you! You dare to become a vampire, and you're literally locked out of 90 percent of the game! People from different houses will threaten to kill you for so much as joining another house! Divayth Fyr! Crassius Curio! The Corprus refugees! The blight storms! Everything wants you dead! And when you kill back? The thread of prophecy has been unraveled and you've doomed the world! Reload, idiot!

Studios just don't make games like it anymore because they don't appeal to a broader audience. If they remake it, they would need to make that money back, and to do that, they'd need to gut a lot of it to make it more friendly and less 'archaic' to the modern player.

The lore, the land, the people, all of it would need to be completely redone and 'revamped'-- Skyrim-ized. I love Skyrim, and I think it's a great game for what it is, but there is no arguing that it's dumbed down from Morrowind exponentially. Shit like Morrowind hasn't been made in a while because it's complicated and frustrating to play (the combat system, the lack of 'convenient' fast travel, the journal entries rather than quest markers, some of the ridiculous shit like that Bosmer in Mournhold who will ask you for gold until you refuse and then utterly obliterate you next time you run into him, etc.) Remaking it in the same style would appeal to only a small demographic of people (the original players who still play enough to want to purchase it), which equals no money. They would need to broaden that range by 'modernizing' the game.

There's also the gigantic matter of contentious content in the modern age. The 'culture war' bullshit would cause Bethesda such a headache that they'd likely just remove any polarizing content all together-- which literally includes the main quest. Now, removing hideously awful things from older games can be a very good thing (when said things are unabashedly racist, outdated, offensive, etc.) But with Morrowind, many of these topics are literally the life's blood of the game itself. Your character develops a morality system based on what they see and experience, and can actively act against these things. It shows you how wrong these things are, rather than the game shouting it at you. There's nuance and precision to it. You are shown suffering and hatred and the worst parts of humanity (mer-anity? Merdom?), and then you are free to act on it. There are slaves you can free, bastards you can kill, and customs you can rail against. However, you can also choose to act for these things. It's an open game. You play how you choose.

The quest with the poor Khajiiti woman who was forced to swallow drugs and her slavers/captors ask you to deliver her somewhere for transport, for example. Sure, you can do just that and deliver her to her gruesome death, or you can abscond with her and deliver her to freedom instead. You get to pick. How do you think Beth would handle this quest in 2025? Without getting called 'woke'? Without someone calling it preaching?

The big bad guy you spend the entire game fighting against is literally a Dunmer supremacist who wants to forcefully kill/remove all foreigners from 'his' land and 'restore greatness to Resdayn.' You don't see how that might be a little bit of an issue in the modern day? Why that might upset the pissbabies who 'want to make things great again? a-hem a-hem' It would be considered 'woke' nowadays, which is a powderkeg of poor publicity for a studio (when the studio is fuckin' dumb enough to give a singular shit what anyone who unironically uses the word 'woke' as an insult might think) and that means poor reception, which means poor sales, which means no money. At the end of the day, all the studio cares about anymore is money, so they'll give up their moral backbone and make it blasé and less polarizing so as not to upset the 'make things great again' bitch-baby crowd in the hopes that they'll buy it.

(Honestly, Morrowind gave rise to some of the most annoying people on the planet. People who only play it because 'haha funney Dunmer slavery simulator game where farmtools are hahahah so funney racism™' and I do not want to see this shit again. I do not have the fucking strength.)

Anyways, If you're going to play Morrowind, I think you should play it the way the original creators intended. It's perfect as it is, flaws and all. I don't think it needs to be dumbed down and stylized in a modern way, because at best, it wouldn't add anything and at worst, it would literally gut it. The game is beloved for a reason. I totally understand why someone would think that a remake is a good idea (and honestly, if I thought for a single second that they would stay true to the game, I might even be for it) but I know they won't. All it takes is a single look at modern Bethesda to know they won't.

I totally get what you're saying. I do. I think that in an ideal world, a remake would be so cool. But we don't live in an ideal world. We live in this shitty one where remaking Morrowind is the worst thing I can think of happening to the poor game. I think leaving well enough alone is the best way. I totally respect your opinion. Please respect mine.

On a side note, you can look to game franchises like Grand Theft Auto, that when they remade them, they completely removed the ability to buy the old ones. I would sure as shit hope Bethesda is smarter than that, but it's always a possibility.

In wake of the Oblivion remake, I keep seeing people ask for Morrowind to be remastered next, and I am so sorry y'all, but that would literally be the worst thing that could physically happen to the game, and to me personally.

[heartkade]

egg kids :]

[hinamie]

green

[twilight-zoned-out]

Things I noticed about The Great Gatsby that might help put the book in perspective:

-It takes place during Prohibition. Although the book is constantly filled with people drinking, the making and selling of alcohol was technically illegal and had been since 1920.

(Note: this is also why everyone gets mad at Daisy when she wants mint julep when they get to the hotel. Unless they smuggle in alcohol from home, it’s a ridiculous thing to ask.)

-1920′s humor included absurdism and wit, which combined humor and intelligence or ‘sharp’ intelligence. Daisy makes witty comments throughout the book. When she talks about Ferdie in a ridiculous way and Nick continues the conversation as if he thinks she is being serious, they are essentially joking with each other in the conventional way of the period.

-Nick is older than Tom, Daisy, and Jordan. He is not only an outsider in terms of location and wealth, but in terms of a (slightly) older culture looking in on the newer generation. When Nick leaves Jordan with the comment that he is “5 years too old to lie to [himself] and call it honor,” his insult carries extra weight because he is saying she is too young to mature herself enough for a reasonable conversation.

-It takes place after World War I, during a time when the US aggressively pursued an isolationist stance. The US did not want to become involved in any overseas wars. Most of the main characters in the book served in some way during World War I. 

(Note: This story was written before Germany began to loom as a threat in the years before World War II. When Nick calls the deaths at Gatsby’s mansion a Holocaust, it did not have the same connotation it has today.)

[edits made]

[revvethasmythh]

OH also i actually utilized photomode for once in my life and look at this sick ass picture i took

[mywritersmind]

LITTLE SISTERS ARE UNKNOWINGLY GREAT MATCH MAKERS - KA12

summary : Girlhood is meeting a younger girl in a bathroom and giving her a friendship bracelet. You happen to get lucky when that little girls introduces you to the youngest driver on the grid.

listen up : no warnings!

words : 1212 (wow that’s crazy)

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“I like your dress.” A little girl says, her voice confident and clearly italian. I smile at her in the mirror before pulling my hands away from the sink and grabbing a towel.

I turn fully to her, her eyes big and brown, looking up at me in awe, “Thank you!” I throw the towel away as she smiles softly, “I like your headphones.” She's in white pants and a black jacket, the bright pink headphones around her neck.

She looks down when I say it, “Bit stupid.”

I shake my head as she backs away from the sink, “Never!” I reach into my purse and pull out my little earplugs that are in a clear case. She smiles at this.

I turn back to the mirror again, fixing my hair and applying my lipgloss. My eyes wander to the small girl who still resides next to me, looking at herself in the mirror and swiping on chapstick.

“You’re a mercedes fan?” I say.

She nods eagerly, pushing her lip balm into her pocket and touching her hat. “It’s my brother's team!” I smile at her enthusiasm, “Are you?”

“Not particularly…” As in George Rusell makes me uneasy and Kimi Antonelli is making me feel unaccomplished since we’re the same age. “I root for Mclaren.”

She seems a bit sad at this, but nods nonetheless. “Do you want a friendship bracelet?” I ask just before she goes to leave. She’s absolutely adorable and definitely a new friend (one i’ll probably never see again) but still, I take one of the beaded bracelets off my wrist and hand it to her.

It says, VROOM, with a tiny beaded F1 car that took me a whole hour to figure out how to make. “Wow!”

I stand up straighter, “I’m Y/n!”

“Maggie.” She says her name quick, her eyes unmoving from her wrist, the bracelet a tad too big. She finally looks up at me again when we both go to leave, “Thank you!”

We walk into the public area, the paddock not crowded for the first time all day, “I’m glad you like it.” I’m too focused on her little eyes lighting up to notice that a guy is staring at us. He pushes off the wall, walking towards us in a far too familiar way. Holy shit.

Maggie says something in italian.

She says something in italian directed to the guy.

The guy who also happens to be Kimi Antonelli.

Kimi smiles at the girl as it all dawns on me. Oh fuck. When she said, ‘it’s my brother's team’ she didn’t just mean that he supports them. She meant he drives for them!

He tugs at her hat so it goes over her eyes as she groans and elbows him, “No wonder you took so long, making friends?”

Maggie nods, saying something in Italian and raising her wrist so Kimi can see her bracelet. He nods, probably not interested but he smiles at her.

Then he smiles at me.

“Did you make it yourself?” His accent is smooth yet his demeanor is still boyish.

I laugh awkwardly, “Uh yeah, sorry I didn’t make any Mercedes ones.” He shrugs it off.

“Black and teal gets boring!” Maggie cuts in, still admiring her bracelet under Kimi’s arm, “I like pink!” Kimi and I look at eachother, smiling at the younger girls' excitement. She clearly gets distracted when she sees an older woman, promptly running away and yelling, “Mama!”

Kimi laughs, not making a move to leave, “I think this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to her all weekend.” He slips his hands into his pockets, smiling at me. Christ he’s cute.

“Honestly she’s made my weekend.” I swipe a piece of hair from my face, “I’m sure she was more excited about her brother’s big F1 debut than a bracelet.” I scoff as he laughs.

“I don’t know…” He looks at Maggie, her hair bobbing up and down as she shows their mom her new jewelry. “Show her pink and she sort of gravitates…”

I smile, “Is she an Alpine fan then?”

He shakes his head, still smiling shyly, “I won’t let that happen.” When I don’t say anything, he sways, “Are you? An Alpine fan, I mean…”

I shake my head, looking down at my light pink dress, “Nah… just hate wearing bright orange.”

He nods, “Oh! I’m Kimi, by the way.”

I hold back a grin, “I know… I’m Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/n.” I think my heart skips a beat when he says my name, “Thanks for being so nice to my sister.”

“No problem, she’s adorable!”

Maggie comes up to us again, “Could you teach me how to make one?”

Kimi raises a brow, “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t just carry beads with her, Mag.”

I blush, “Actually… I do, and I can totally try!”

She runs off again, leaving Kimi and I, “She’s really sweet, though she might not want my help with the beads… I made one and gave up like two hours in.”

He laughs, “She referred to you as ‘pretty girl’ when she told me you gave her a bracelet, so I'm pretty sure she already loves you no matter if you can recreate it or not.” I laugh a bit when he says this, my cheeks are probably already red.

“I remember being like that with every older girl I encountered.” It’s true, every little girl I see I just want to cry because of how much I loved being that young.

“Yeah well she’s got good instincts.” his tongue runs over his bottom lip, “How old are you?”

“Eighteen… you know, my mom found out you were driving this year and made me get a job!” He’s laughing harder now.

“Shit… I'm sorry. What were you forced into?”

“Well, it’s not bad.” I shrug, “I intern at McLaren actually. My mom’s a driver manager.” His eyebrows go up, nodding at my words.

“So you get to travel with the drivers?” He looks almost… hopeful.

I nod, “Basically. I want to work in F1 media so it’s hopefully getting me used to my future.”

“That’s really cool.” Honestly if it were any other teenage boy saying that, I wouldn’t believe him. But something about Kimi Antonelli tells me that he doesn’t half ass anything, even his words.

“Yeah…” I bite my lip, swaying on my feet.

“Hey! Um before you go…” He pulls out his phone, “Can I get your number?” I raise a brow instinctively, “For Maggie!” I try not to frown, taking the phone and typing in my number and name, “And maybe… for dinner sometime? I fly to China right after this.”

I bite back a smile, “That’d be fun, I go straight there after the race.”

I think he’s… blushing? “Right. Well uh… maybe I can convince you that black and teal are right for you.”

“If you take me out and try to convert me from papaya, I will never let you forget it!” I threaten as he starts walking away backwards.

“Yeah I'm planning on that, pretty.” He bites his lip, nodding and leaving. I roll my eyes and walk away, my cheeks pink and my smile wide.

[marlynnofmany]

In the interest of not derailing this already-long-and-awesome thread, here are some more details! (Paging @sparrows-corner and any other interested parties.)

So in my first semester of college, I took an Intro to Psychology class. I didn't expect anything special; it was just one of those general education courses that everybody was supposed to take at some point. But it turned out amazing.

What the general public didn't know at that point was someone in the college administration had screwed up and forgotten to assign a teacher to this class. Until a week before class. When several students emailed to ask why that detail was missing in the online listing.

The administration panicked, scrambled for someone-anyone-omg-who-can-drop-everything-and-teach-this-class. They called recently-graduated owners of Masters Degrees in teaching.

They found Sandy.

She was qualified and available, and much older than the average recent grad, with the confidence to go with it. This was still a daunting task, though, and she agreed on one condition: that she team-teach the class with a friend of hers who was still working on finishing his degree.

Having no other choice and seeing no real problem with this, the administration agreed. And thus was born the most glorious educational comedy act in my entire academic career. The two of them were a delight. They knew all the stuff they needed to teach, and they knew a great deal more, and they delivered lectures in a way that had everyone paying eager attention. It was great.

This friend, by the way, was awesome in his own right. While Sandy was a curly-haired white lady around middle age, Wayne was a black guy who (1) dressed in impeccable suits and (2) had cerebral palsy.

I think a lot of 18-year-old minds were quietly enlightened about a few things just from watching these two banter back and forth, one with joints more wobbly than the other. Wayne told a memorable anecdote at one point about stopping by a grocery store in sweat pants instead of his usual classy wear. The cashier asked some gentle question about what he spent his time on, assuming that he had some sort of carer following him around. The expression on her face when he told her that he taught college was one I'll never forget, and I didn't even see it.

Anyways, at the end of this semester, the two teachers asked a few of us smart kids if we wanted to be TAs (teaching assistants) for the next semester. Since most of us had already become friends during the make-a-group-and-discuss-things portions of the class, this sounded like a party that would look good on our records later. And it really was.

I TA'd for that class a few times in a row, with my buddies and the two very cool teachers. We met up outside of class for holiday parties and everything.

And, since this was during the time the Lord of the Rings trilogy was first coming out in theaters, we all dressed up in costume and went to an early screening together.

Wayne drove. His handicap placard meant we got to park at the front, which was pretty awesome.

Now, I'd met people before who knew more LotR lore than I did, but they all paled in comparison to Sandy. As I said in the notes on that other post, she shared some stories of her youth with us. When she was fourteen, she ran away to join a hippie commune. She already knew fluent elvish, and she used that to help the commune's drug-runners stay out of the clutches of the cops, by translating their drug notes into a language the cops couldn't read. With a start like that, it was unsurprising that she still knew elvish now, along with all sorts of fascinating deep lore.

She had a limited edition book that looked shockingly expensive. She made beeswax candles for all the TAs as holiday gifts, with our names written on them in elvish. I still have mine somewhere.

I haven't heard from any of these lovely people in a long time, since college moves on and so does life, but I will treasure those memories forever. I hope Sandy and Wayne and the others are doing well. They deserve the best.

[thechrochetarchives]

Finished Gerry!

Turns out earrings make great tiny pin badges. Also I couldn’t think of a way to give him tattoos so I just painted an eye on his top

Here he is with Jon - I didn’t realise how short I made him until I took this picture

And with Michael of course because in the process of making these I’ve inevitably become a doorkeay shipper

Figuring out how to give him roots took ages but he wasn’t to tricky apart from that, I think he turned out really cute. Agnes Montague next! 🔥

TMA crochet characters

[cmdrfupa]

Kento took a step forward when he notices that his blonde hair is slowly getting to a pale silver. The roots shining as he intently stares at the first few streaks in the mirror. A slight frown of surprise crosses his face as he runs his fingers through it, almost trying to see if they are real, contemplating the significance of this unexpected change.

“Remember we’ve got 2 potential homebuyers coming today after 3. Did you want to move anything around before then?” You spoke gently as you walked towards the bathroom noticing Kento look at himself. “Ken?”

His strict and rigid lifestyle had shaped his existence for years, but this moment marked a stark contrast to the strict regimen he's lived by. It's as if his hair was reflecting the toll of the pressure and stress he's endured.

It's a jarring sight, a symbol of the transformation he's undergoing.

“Did you notice these? The grays?”

You reached up, catching the close shave of his undercut and smile at his reflection. “We’re on each other practically every 2 seconds. Of course I noticed.”

“And you said nothing?” Eyebrow raised, Kento turned to you and kissed your palm. “Big fan of old man Kento?”

“Pffft, please.” The chuckle you let out was a slice of life to him. “I thought you were hot when you were 26 and I still think you’re hot at 44. You’re becoming a silver fox.”

He laughed but he was completely preoccupied by this new found piece of himself.

He was aging.

“Stop thinking, baby.”

“I’m not, honey.”

You squint. “Let me reiterate. Stop overthinking.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist from the side, resting your head on his chest. “When did we get to this point? I qualify for silver fox status after what feels like we just finished school.”

You bring your fingers up the back of his head and gently graze his scalp. “Years of wisdom and achievement via your roots. I have a few of my own sprouting at the center of my head. You’ve conquered a lot in life. I think it looks great on you.”

These hints of aging didn’t represent a loss of youth, but rather a testament to the years of life he'd lived and survived. Evidence of a journey filled with memories and growth. He starts to see the gray hair not as a symbol of decline, but as a badge of honor, a mark of the wisdom and resilience he's gained along the way. He kissed your cheek and lifted you up.

“A house, putting a kid through college, buying property on the beach,” He helped you onto the bathroom counter and smiled. “The grays are like a trophy.”

“A trophy, exactly, Mr. Nanami. Though I feel like we are missing a big key factor here.”

“Hm? What’s that?”

You leaned in, gently kissing his jawline. “You’re totally a DILF now. I have the hottest dad in this city.”

[cherryyluvs]

Late Night Confessions

late night calls and movie nights with you slowly turn into something more.

It started with late night calls. They were innocent, Mark would call you after a long night of fighting villains or finishing his part time in Burger Mart. Just to hear that sweet voice of yours before bed.

“You ever just sit on your roof at 2am and think about how weird life is?” He said one night, voice laced with exhaustion and fondness.

“Mark it’s 2 am.” You whined sleepily. Burying yourself deeper into your blankets. “And you're still wearing your suit, aren't you?”

“… Maybe,” He admitted, a sheepish chuckle slipping through the phone. “But if i take it off now, that means i have to get up and shower and i'm way too comfy talking to you.”

You groaned, rolling onto your side. “You're the worst”

“And yet, you're still on the phone with me.” He teased

You rolled your eyes but the smile on your face was undeniable. The calls became a routine after that. He would call you when he was tired, when he was happy, when he wanted to just hear your voice. And honestly? You didn't mind one bit.

Then came the movie nights, they started as a casual thing. Just two best friends hanging out and binge watching cheesy action films or terrible romcoms while demolishing a ridiculous amount of popcorn.

Tonight, though something felt.. Different.

You were both sprawled out on his couch, snuggled up next to Mark, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket that was his but you'd stolen it ages ago. And a ridiculous superhero movie playing in the background, but neither of you were paying attention. Your head was resting against Mark’s shoulder, and at some point he hesitantly draped an arm around you.

You pretended to not notice the way his heart was racing. “Okay but tell me why this guy just threw a whole car at the villain instead of, i don't know? Punching him?” Mark muttered, trying to focus on anything but the fact that you were curled up against him. You giggled, feeling his voice vibrate through his chest.

“I don't know invincible, maybe you should take notes.” He groaned, tilting his head back against the couch, “Don't remind me. I get that enough of that from william” You hummed in amusement, snuggling a little closer.

Mark stiffened for a moment before relaxing. He wanted to say something but every time he worked up the courage, the words were stuck in his throat.

Now or never.

He took a deep breath. “Hey uh, can i tell you something?”

“Hmm?” you replied, eyes half lidded from the warmth and comfort. His throat went dry. This was not how he pictured confessing, he had a whole plan! Flowers maybe. But with your head leaning against his shoulder, he couldn't think straight.

God why am I like this?

“I, uh like you. A lot! Like more than just friends kind of like you.” You froze, looking at his face, he was so red. Like, cartoon tomato face red.

“Mark..”

“And i know that was super awkward, and i totally just ruined the movie night but i had to say it befor-”

“Mark.”

He gulped. “Yeah?” You smiled, soft and mischievous. “Just kiss me already.”

His breath hitched, eyes wide as you reached the collar of his shirt and pulled him down. The moment your lips met, he melted. Completely.

Every late night call, every lingerie glance, every accidental touch , it all led to this.

Judging by the way you were smiling against his lips, you'd been waiting for this just as much as he had. The warmth of his lips , nervous but eager. It was all so sweet.

When you finally pulled away, his face was still red and grinning like an absolute idiot. “So… does this mean I can finally stop pretending I don't stare at you when you laugh?” You snorted, swatting his chest.

“You stare at me? Mark!”

“Hey! That's unfair. You can't just exist and be this cute. It's distracting !” He huffed, burying his face in your shoulder.

You couldn't stop the giggle that bubbled up. “Well, if it makes you feel better i also stare at you too.”

Mark smiled “Great. So we've both been embarrassing this whole time.”

“Yup” you said, popping the ‘p’ with a smile. “But now we get to be embarrassing together.” He beamed at you, eyes soft and full of something deep. “Yeah. I like the sound of that.”

You settled back into the couch, Mark pulling you more closer and you knew. This was only the start.

[sematarygirls]

Okay but he’d fuck you so hard when they lose the Super Bowl after you spends an hour gloating about the eagles handing their asses to them!

i saw this request and started giggling and kicking my feet omg. anon, i owe you my first born child. you are a GENIUS! (although, fair warning, i'm not great at writing smut. i hope this is okay <3) not proofread

cw: unprotected p in v, rough sex, mean rafe, slapping, degradation

Football tended to be a touchy subject between you and Rafe. Where you were a diehard Eagles fan, he wouldn't be caught dead rooting for them. After the Chiefs narrowly beat out the Eagles in the 2023 Super Bowl, Rafe wouldn't shut up for weeks about how "trash" the Eagles were. It drove you absolutely insane.

That's why, when the Eagles absolutely kicked ass this Super Bowl in a rematch against the Chiefs, beating them out at a whopping 40-22, you thought it was your well-deserved right to rub it in Rafe's face, much to his dismay.

One thing about Rafe is that gloating is only okay when he does it—much like a lot of other things (he's a very hypocritical guy), hence his growing anger when you wouldn't stop talking about how the Chiefs absolutely threw the game with all their fumbles, making jokes the whole time about how it seemed like they weren't even playing.

Another thing about Rafe? He tended to get violent when he was angry. With other people, this meant he'd kick their asses, but with you, it meant you were in for a long night of rough fucking to make him feel better and put you in your place for your "bratty attitude."

Though, if you tried to point out the hypocrisy with him finding your actions annoying when he had done the exact same two years prior, he would only get more annoyed and very, very defensive.

You'd learned at a very early stage in your relationship that some battles were not worth fighting with Rafe, and besides, you kind of liked it when he was all rough with you, manhandling and degrading you deliciously.

"Not so mouthy now, huh?" He taunted, pounding into you from behind. Each thrust pushed you forward a little bit, your face burying further into the pillows as you moaned. A sharp slap to your ass had you gasping, the pain sending a jolt of pleasure to your core that had you practically gushing around Rafe's thick length. You didn't know how long you'd been going at this with him, but he hadn't let you cum, nor had he let up the brutal pace.

"Look at you," he sneered. "Can't even think of anything to say back to me, huh? Thought you were gonna gloat all night about how the Eagles won." His words were cruel and biting, revealing the depth of his anger, which wasn't about the football game. It was more so about being challenged, his ego hurt after talking such a big game about how the Chiefs were going to dominate.

You couldn't form a coherent sentence. Your brain turned to mush as the only thing you could focus on were his rough hands on you and his length stretching your velvety walls. You could practically feel each ridge and vein of his cock as it slid back and forth, his tip nudging your cervix roughly with each pass.

"What happened to that smart mouth, huh?" He mocked. "Your dumb little brain's too desperate for cock, huh, bunny," he cooed, his tone patronizing as he continued to pound into you with rough strokes, making your back arch and eyes roll back.

He was so mean, but you loved it.

He was right. You couldn't respond to him anymore. You had lost your ability to form a single word, dumbed down to a mess of please sounds as he hit that sweet spot inside of you so perfectly. He took that as a victory, seeing it as proof that you knew your place. He loved it when you whimpered underneath him, completely at his mercy. "Look who's behaving now. You're lucky you're so pretty, honey," he continued, enjoying this little game of his. "Otherwise, I wouldn't put up with such a bratty mouth."

"Fuuuuuck," he groaned, giving your ass another sharp smack before his hands found your hips again, his grip bordering on painful. "And this fuckin' love this pussy. Fuckin' perfect, baby."

He was getting close. You could tell by the way his pace started to falter, and his words switched from degrading to praising. One hand slipped down to your clit, rubbing firm circles. Even when he was pissed, he still tried to make you cum first.

It didn't take much more effort on his part. Your thighs were already trembling, desperate for release from the moment he'd thrown you onto the bed and ripped your clothes off.

"You're gonna be a good girl now, huh? You're gonna stop being such a pain in the ass, aren't you?" He questioned, punctuating each question with a thrust. "No more running your mouth and riling me up, right?"

"Uh huh," you whined pathetically, needy and desperate to cum.

He knew he had you right where he wanted you, all pliant and begging. "Yeah, you gonna stop talking back, huh? You can be a good little bunny for me, can't you?" He cooed, his words sounding a little bit less harsh. He was enjoying having you like this, completely at his mercy.

All you could muster was a weak nod, your fingers gripping the sheets and mouth parted in ecstacy as you reached your peak, blinding pleasure overtaking your body as your walls clamped down around his cock.

"That's it, baby, just like that," he groaned, pumping a few more times before pushing deep inside you and releasing spurts of hot, sticky cum into your eager cunt.

[dollfacefantasy]

SNOW ON THE GLASS ♡

pairing: dilf!leon kennedy x fem!reader x milf!ada wong

summary: you love your job as the kennedys nanny. it's fairly easy and pays great. plus you may have a tiny crush on your bosses. but as it turns out, they may reciprocate that feeling more than you know.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, mild dubcon, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), daddy kink, mommy kink, intoxication/intox kink, breeding kink, praise kink, age gap (late 30s, early 20s)

a/n: birthday gift for my wonderful bestie @explorevenus!! i love you so so much <3 also also also, imagine them both at their re6 ages, i just couldn't find any pics of re6 ada i liked sue me 😔

Little white flakes of snow landed one after another on the clear pane of glass in front of your face. You chewed your bottom lip while watching the flurries compile on the window, and in-turn, your car parked in the driveway.

Behind you, a pair of sharp heels clacked against the tile floor as the owner of said driveway returned to the room. Ada stepped through the archway and down the half-step to approach you by the front door. Laying a gentle hand on your shoulder, she smiled when you turned to look at her.

“Here’s your check, sweetheart,” she said, bringing a small rectangular paper to brush against your fingertips.

“Thank you,” you replied as you took it from her. Your eyes immediately made their way back to the storm outside that grew worse by the second.

She followed your gaze, her palm staying in place on your shoulder. Unlike you, Ada’s face remained composed. She wasn’t worried in the slightest. She’d known this storm was coming. It was an integral part of her plan for tonight.

But despite her internal calmness, she furrowed her dark brows and injected some worry into her tone.

“It’s getting bad out there. That snow is just piling up,” she proclaimed, “There’s no way you should be driving in weather like that.”

Reluctantly, you nodded. Your thoughts had been reaching the same conclusion. You were just hesitant to voice them because after a long day of work, you yearned for the comfort of your apartment. It was finally the weekend, and your plush bed and soft sheets called to you. You’d been dreaming of the quiet between those walls all day. The privacy to do whatever you wanted that you didn’t have when you were here for most hours of the week. 

Make no mistake, you loved your job as the Kennedys full-time nanny, but regardless of your enjoyment, it was still work that required a lot of attention and labor. Their daughter was the sweetest child you’d ever met; however, carting her to and from dance class and kindergarten along with making her food, playing with her, and putting her down for naps piled up on you.

“Maybe if I leave now, I can make it…” you thought aloud.

“Oh please. Honey, you live across town. You’d have to take the highway, and people drive crazy as is. I should know, my husband is one of them,” she joked.

Your brows raised at the mention of Leon. You hadn’t even thought about how your other employer would get home tonight. You looked over your shoulder at her again. “Do you think he’ll be ok? It’s coming down really hard out there,” you said.

“Oh he’ll be fine,” she waved off, “His friend is giving him a ride home tonight. I’m sure they’ll make it in one piece.”

Releasing a small breath of relief, you nodded again.

“It’s really no problem if you stay,” she continued, “We have the guest room all set up. It has a bathroom attached, so you’d have total privacy. And I wouldn’t make you watch Christina or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh no,” you reassured, “It’s not that, don’t worry. I just don’t want to be a burden on you and Mr. Kennedy.”

“You’re never a burden on us. With all you do for Christina, you’re practically part of the family. I wouldn’t want you driving off and getting into an accident just because you didn’t want to impose. I’m sure you know that we have more than enough space in this house,” she said and ran her hand over your bicep down to your wrist. Her manicured nails scraped over your skin, eliciting a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

You felt a simmer of heat in your chest upon hearing those kind words coming from her painted lips. That combined with the teasing touch had your heart pumping a little faster in your chest. It was something you rarely thought about, but maybe, just maybe, a tiny part of why you enjoyed this job so much was because both of your employers looked like reoccuring stars in people’s wet dreams all over the world.

“Thank you. I would really appreciate it,” you answered, your prior trepidation dissolving under the heat of her gaze. You slid your check into your purse and then placed the bag back down on the end table by the door.

She smirked, though she tried to make it appear as an earnest smile. Of course, Ada sensed the little crush you had on her and her husband. It wasn’t hard to tell given the way you preened in the face of the slightest of compliments or gave them the look a puppy would give its owner whenever they praised you for your hard work.

“Great,” she said, “Come with me. I’ll put on some dinner. We’ll get you fed and then I’ll show you to your room and be out of your hair for the night.”

Her slender fingers clasped around your hand, guiding you back through that archway and towards the kitchen. The two of you passed by a few family portraits and expensive paintings before reaching your destination - the luxurious kitchen that probably held a value higher than all the money you’d made in your life.

You could fit about six of your kitchens in this one. That would be another nice thing about staying here for the night, getting to use the high end items they had stocked rather than the odds and ends you owned.

She led you across the gray marble floors over to the spacious island, all but sitting you down on one of the stools.

“You just relax for a few minutes, and I’ll work on the food,” she said.

You took your seat, not willing to protest her hospitality further. Your eyes scanned around the kitchen you’d become so familiar with over the last year. She walked into the pantry for a couple seconds, returning with a box and some small containers before setting them on the counter.

“You like pasta?” she asked.

“Who doesn’t?” you responded.

She let out a small laugh at that. “No wonder Leon likes you so much. A girl after his own heart.”

Your heart fluttered at the idea that Mr. Kennedy liked you. Before hearing that, you didn’t suspect he had any problems with you. In fact, he let you know all the time that he was pleased with your performance and couldn’t ask for anyone better to take care of Christina. But appreciating you and liking you were two separate things, the latter of which gave you that warm feeling in your stomach.

In the corner of the counters, Ada bent down to grab a pot. Your eyes went with her, dragging along her figure to where her form-fitting black slacks covered the swell of her ass. As soon as you realized you were staring, you averted your gaze. You pushed out any further thoughts about how her red blouse was probably unbuttoned at the top, allowing a clear view of her breasts down the front of the shirt.

She stood back up with the pot in hand and filled it with some water. Tapping the electric stove to life, she put it on to boil. You watched as she poured some oil in the water and then grabbed a pan to put on for what you assumed would be the sauce.

With both pieces heating up, she moved to the cabinets up above. She reached for the one next to the section that held all of Christina’s dishes, her sippy cups and princess plates. The cupboard you took from most of the time you were here.

Instead of grabbing a Little Mermaid themed piece of tupperware, her hand retrieved two wine glasses. She spun around to face you and brought the fragile items over to the island. After placing them in front of you, she stepped into a nearby alcove, the place you knew they kept all the liquor.

She came back with a nice bottle, something more rich than you’d ever drink on your own. Popping it open, she went to pour, but you interrupted.

“I don’t really need any,” you said with a timid smile.

While you weren’t a prude about drinking under other circumstances, Ada was still your boss. Being under any kind of influence around her held a risk you didn’t find worth taking.

She just smirked at you though, not making any effort to conceal it this time.

“C’mon, loosen up a bit,” she coaxed, “You’re not on the clock. You’ve been working all week, even later today since I was late. Take it as my apology.”

“You don’t have to apologize. You paid me for the overtime,” you replied.

“Still. Keeping you longer than expected on short notice is inconsiderate,” she said. 

She rounded the counter with the bottle and your glass in hand. Upon reaching you, she set the glass down directly in front of you with the bottle beside it. The proximity left no room for hesitation. One of her hands came up, brushing across the back of your neck to rest on your shoulder like it had earlier.

“You’re not saying no because you think this is some sort of test, do you? Because I wouldn’t bother with something like that, sweetheart. I was young once too,” she told you. You swore she was leaning in closer as her voice became more of a purr next to your ear, but you didn’t dare look. “I know how good a drink can feel after a long week. You’re human. My husband and I don’t expect you to be a child-friendly saint even when you’re not working,” she continued.

Her fingers rubbed miniscule circles on the cloth of your top. You still didn’t think it was the best idea to drink around your boss, but Ada had never given you a reason not to trust her. It was quite the opposite. Most days, the Kennedys seemed too good to be true.

You knew they were human. Occasionally while speaking to you, they’d slip in a jab about the other or allude to some sort of marital problem that sprouted up after years of being together. They’d make mistakes like coming home late or forgetting to tell you that Christina’s dance lesson had been canceled until you were already on the way there.

But when it came to their relationships with you, they were absolute dreams. They gave you expensive gifts for your birthday and Christmas. Paid you above what was the standard for nannies in this area. Talked to you like someone they were interested in rather than a person they were forced to interact with. And hell, now they were offering up their home to you when you needed it.

“Alright. If it’s ok with you,” you agreed.

“That’s what I like to hear,” she said and tilted the bottle towards your glass.

Deep red liquid spilled into the curved dish. She wasn’t shy with how much she gave you, that was for sure. You could already smell that heady aroma swirling around the air.

“You can have as much as you’d like. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, we want you to feel at home here with us,” she said.

Before she walked away, her hand swept down your back, stroking it with a domineering, almost maternal sort of affection. It sent another round of chills through your body. You reached for the wine glass and gripped the stem hard. It was probably for the best that she and her husband weren’t actually around for most of your work here if this was how you reacted to a simple touch.

You brought the glass to your lips and sipped some of the liquid as she poured her own. After taking down some of the drink to numb your responsive nerves, you set it down again. You didn’t want to over-indulge.

“I really do feel at home here. I wasn’t saying no because I’m not comfortable with you. I just really care about what you and Mr. Kennedy think of me. I wouldn’t want you thinking you hired someone irresponsible to watch over your daughter,” you explained. What was left unspoken was that you didn’t want either of them thinking you were trashy in your own right either.

She nodded and stirred the bubbling sauce on the stove. She had to stop herself from saying I know. “That’s good. But you don’t need to worry so much. Both me and my husband think very highly of you,” she said instead.

A rush coursed through you upon hearing that. You smiled and raised your glass again, ingesting some more of the intoxicating liquid.

She watched out of the corner of her eye. It was a struggle to keep quiet and not fawn over how adorable you looked when you got all giddy. She kept her attention on dinner though, adding the noodles when the water reached a boil and spicing the sauce.

There was nothing she needed to say right now. She’d just be quiet and let you nurse that drink. It wasn’t that she needed the alcohol for what she wanted to do tonight. She could probably seduce you right now without much effort if she so desired. But tonight had been well-planned out, and for all the effort she put into it, she was gonna get everything she wanted out of it.

Ada had wanted you since the day they hired you. She could still remember the cute little outfit you wore on that Sunday you showed up for your interview. A nice plaid skirt with a dark sweater up top. Objectively modest but still attractive enough to garner attention. You’d been so polite, sitting with your ankles crossed and perfect posture. She could tell you were fighting off nerves with each answer you gave her and Leon. You were only the second candidate they’d met with, but Ada dismissed any other option before you’d even said your goodbyes.

That craving for you only became more intense over the last month or so. She’d had enough of coming home to you passed out on the couch, all sprawled out and vulnerable but not being able to take advantage. She was sick of only feeling grazes of the silken nature of your skin as she caught you before and after your shift.

That was why she calculated everything for tonight down to the minute. It would go off without a hitch. This wasn’t one of Leon’s missions that stumbled along and almost collapsed at multiple points before barely reaching the correct target. No, she’d thought this through.

By the end of the night, she would have you in the palms of her and Leon’s hands. She’d known this snow storm was coming, and she’d intentionally stayed a little later at work so that she’d be home by the time it was already raging outside and you’d put Christina to bed. She’d have the guest room for you, but you wouldn’t have any of your own belongings, which meant she’d have chances to lure you into her territory. She’d get you all peaceful and pliant by giving you a nice dinner and a fair amount of drinks. Everything would play out just like she intended it to.

She longed to see you at a baser state without any of your usual modesty impeding on your desires. She wanted you all giggling and cute, falling into her arms and spreading your legs without even being asked. You would love it. She just had to show you that.

She hummed to herself at a low volume while finishing up the food. Combining the curled pasta with the creamy sauce, she scooped two helpings onto each plate and made her way over to you with the dishes.

The two of you sat at the island, eating and drinking and talking. The conversation started on Christina but moved around to your personal life and her job among other subjects. She made sure to top off your wine whenever it got close to being empty.

“I know this job must keep you pretty busy, but do you do anything outside of it?” she eventually asked, “Maybe school or some other interests taking up your time?”

“Um… well,” you answered, “I tried out school for a while, and it wasn’t really the best fit for me… I messed around with some other things, and you know how that goes.”

A little laugh slipped from your lips. Your words were definitely more free-flowing than usual.

“Well there’s nothing wrong with taking things day by day,” she replied with a warm smile. She took a sip of her own drink before continuing her point. “You’re still young. You could stumble on something you don’t even know about right now.”

“Exactly!” you responded, all too excited to have someone agree with you, “That’s exactly how I feel. Like you know, this job. I feel like I won the lottery with you guys most days I’m here.”

“That makes me so happy to hear,” she said.

“It’s the truth. Ugh, the kids I babysat in high school were nightmares. And their parents barely paid me anything. I wasn’t even allowed to eat the food at the house. It was horrible. But you guys, you’re perfect I swear. Christina is so sweet and funny and smart. And this house is great. And you and Mr. Kennedy, you two… you’re like dreams,” you rambled.

“Really?” she asked with mild amusement. She set her drink down and leaned forward on her forearms.

The way your eyes widened and your lips parted, you looked like a little fish upon realizing how your last statement sounded. “I just mean you guys are like so great to work for. My favorite job I’ve ever had for sure,” you added.

She reached out, laying her smooth hand on your wrist. “That’s so sweet of you, honey. You’re great to have around too. Much better than our last nanny,” she said, “She always had some complaint about something, and her hours never ended up being consistent. Plus, she wasn’t as cute as you.”

The statement struck you like a bolt of lightning. You were sure your eyes widened to the size of gold medals. Heat oozed up from your chest into your face. This honestly felt like a dream. In reality, you were supposed to think your boss was hot. You were supposed to thirst after them, pine for moments of reciprocation that would never actually happen. But one just did.

“Oh, thank you,” you shrugged, an involuntary smile pulling at your mouth.

A low, knowing laugh echoed from her without her lips ever breaking that calculated smile. Ada’s rich eyes stayed on yours, not letting you get a reprieve from eye contact that lasted longer than a handful of seconds. Her fingertips massaged little circles onto your wrist as you spoke. The light touches felt like the tips of sparklers against your skin. Each one sent tingling warmth up your arm down to your belly.

“Oh come on, don’t look so nervous,” she said, “You must get compliments like that all the time. You’re a very pretty girl.”

Again, you shrugged. “I guess,” you answered. The weight of her attention pressed on you, causing your gaze to lower to your lap.

She didn’t let you get away though. One of her hands ventured up to cup your jaw and pull your face upright. Her fingers lingered there as she stared at you. The curled, the flat backs of her knuckles smoothing across your cheek.

“Do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?” she asked.

Your pulse thundered in your ears. You shook your head no.

She hummed in response. Her fingers continued exploring the expanse of your cheek before dropping to lie on your shoulder.

“That’s good. No need to tie yourself to one person at your age. Though you do deserve someone to take care of you,” she said.

That dull heat in your stomach had long outgrown something so mild. It festered into full arousal by this point, a need hot and pulsating between your thighs. You bit your lip. It was all you could do to keep yourself from squirming in an attempt to grind on the stool.

“I can take care of myself,” you said, though the tone of your voice alone called the truth of that claim into question.

She laughed softly, the sound light and condescending. Her hand glided back and forth along your shoulder in short strokes.

“I’m sure you can, sweet girl. But you shouldn’t have to. You spend all week caring for someone else. You deserve to relax in your free time and have someone take over,” she said.

A visible shiver ran through you. Your teeth dug into the inside of your lip harder as you looked at her now.

“That does sound kind of nice,” you agreed.

She nodded along and brought her hand back to your face. One set of her nails lightly scraped along the frame of it, trailing down after to stroke your jaw. The sensation was enough to make your eyes flutter and send another small burst of desire through you.

“Of course it does,” she said, “You work so hard. You shouldn’t have to go home and cook or do dishes or laundry. You’re probably so tired by the time you get there.”

A hazy sigh puffed out from your mouth. “Yeah sometimes,” you confirmed.

“Mhm. Poor baby,” she cooed, “Someone should be there, letting you rest, doting on you like the precious thing you are.”

Now you felt as though you were glowing. Your breaths came in deep, lifting your chest up and down with each breath. A lazy, blissful smile sat on your features as your dreamy gaze fixated on her. Everything really was starting to feel like a dream. If you weren’t so captivated, you might have tried pinching yourself.

She chuckled at the expression before standing up. Her palms swept down to your shoulders again.

“You look tired, honey. We should probably get you some clothes to sleep in and then send you off to bed,” she said.

“Sounds good to me,” you said and started to rise from the stool yourself.

“Perfect. Just finish this off for me, sweetheart,” she said and lifted your glass to your hand again. It was nearly empty, but it couldn’t hurt having you drink a few drops more.

Denying her didn’t even occur to you in this condition. You brought the drink to your lips and swallowed the remainder while she cleared the counter of other dishes. 

In the blink of an eye, she was back at your side. One of her arms slipped around your waist while the other held your shoulder.

“Good girl,” she praised, “Come with me.”

Again, you followed the order without a trace of resistance. You walked alongside her down the path you had come. This time around you leaned into her for support. Your head felt cloudy. A sense of dizziness pervaded every movement you made. She watched with pure satisfaction as she led you to the hall.

“There you go. We’re almost there,” she cooed as if you didn’t know the layout of the house.

You passed the front door and turned into the area that held the doors to one of the bathrooms and the office space. At the end of the small corridor, she opened up the double doors that led into her and Leon’s room. Despite being here five days a week, you rarely ever went in here. You could use one hand to count the number of occasions in which you ever needed to cross this threshold.

The decor was much darker than the rest of the house. Shades of gray morphed into dark black in here. Obsidian drapes framed the window, separated at the moment to let the moon shine through. All the furniture was crafted in deep tones of wood. The rug sprawled across the floor was nearly pitch black, spare the thin red designs sewn throughout.

You took it all in as if it was brand new to you. She paid your curiosity no mind and sat you down on the edge of her bed.

“Stay here for me. I’ll go find you something that fits you,” she said, running her hand over your head as if you were a prized pet.

You obeyed like one, not moving as she stepped away and into the walk in closet in the corner of the room. Your palms spread out on the bedding. The plush comforter tickled your fingers. It had to be one of the softest things you’d ever felt. Much different than the ratty old throw blankets you had on your bed back home.

A sigh seeped from your lips, and you found yourself laying back against the luxurious surface. You spread your arms out as though you were making angel wings in the snow outside. What would it be like to come home to this every night? To work hard all day and then be able to really relax in a place like this? To unwind with each one of your bosses at your side tending to you?

As these thoughts danced through your mind, you felt a hand grasp your thigh. You popped your head up to find Ada before you again, a couple pieces of clothing draped over her arm.

“Don’t fall asleep on me yet,” she teased.

“I wasn’t. Sorry. Your bed is just like really comfy,” you said with a small giggle as you sat up.

“Isn’t it? We just got this one last year. Leon loved our old one, but I just find this one so much easier to sink into,” she agreed.

“Mhm. For sure,” you said, nodding your head up and down with too much enthusiasm for the subject.

That didn’t matter though. Ada didn’t think she could find one thing wrong with you right now if she tried. Beside you, she laid out the few things she’d taken from the closet.

“I wasn’t really sure what type of clothes you liked to sleep in or what you would fit so I brought a few for you to choose from,” she said.

With a gentle hand, she directed your attention to the outfits on the mattress. There were two, and they looked like night and day. Two opposites with no neutral middle. 

The one on the left consisted of a small black camisole, one that had to belong to Ada. A pair of silky, navy blue shorts sat with them, another find from her side of the wardrobe. Next to those two was a large gray sweatshirt and some flannel pajama pants, probably her husband’s if you had to guess.

Your eyes lingered on each. It appeared as though you were taking your time to decide, but really you just couldn’t stop trying to picture the clothing on their owners’ bodies. You imagined Ada’s soft curves covered by the thin cloth, her smooth thighs emerging from the shiny fabric of the shorts. Images of Leon flickered in your head too, the sleeves of that shirt rolled up to his elbows and leaving his forearms exposed. The plaid pajama pants hanging low on his hips and giving you a nice view of his v-line.

While you stared at your options, she angled herself behind you, lifting one knee onto the bed. Her hands landed upon your shoulders to gently massage.

“Pick whatever you want. It’s totally up to you. You can take one or the other or combine the two. Maybe layer a bit since it’s so cold,” she whispered. She had leaned in right next to your ear. Her lips brushed your skin with every word.

It took everything you had not to whimper for more from her. Under normal circumstances, you would be squirming out of your skin, stuttering and awkwardly trying to justify her affection for you. But right now, you leaned back into it, letting the warmth flow through you.

She smiled and snaked her arms around your body, holding you tight against her. “I’ll have to buy you some clothes to keep here in case this ever happens again. We’ll keep a cute little wardrobe for you in the guest room, so you can stay whenever you like,” she added.

That pulled another giggle out of you along with growing the lazy smile on your face. “I’ll take both of these,” you finally decided and pulled the two tops toward yourself. You messily bundled both pieces into your lap.

“Great. But you still need some pants, sweetheart,” she teased.

“But I don’t like sleeping in pants,” you said and looked up at her with earnest eyes.

She reveled in your thoughtless confession but played it cool. “Are you sure? The bed upstairs has a lot of blankets and the heat should be on, but I wouldn’t want you getting cold,” she offered.

You shook your head. “I’ll be ok, but thank you,” you answered.

Standing up, you swayed on your feet a little. She rose from the bed herself and moved the rejected pairs of pants to the dresser nearby. When she turned to you and caught the wobbly nature of your stance, she moved in like a viper through tall grass and grabbed you by the elbow.

“Why don’t you just change in here? You know that way if you don’t like anything you won’t have to stumble up and down the stairs. Plus you can just leave your clothes here, and I’ll put them in the wash in the morning,” she said, making the offer as if it was based on a genuine desire to help you.

You blinked at her. “Like… change in here? In the bedroom?” you checked.

She nodded, her fingers gliding up your arm. “Mhm. We’re both girls, honey. No need to be shy. I’ll even turn around if you want me to,” she said in a way that somehow soothed you and set your whole body on fire.

You felt like a fireworks show was going off in your stomach. The adrenaline rushing through your veins made you light-headed, and the wine probably didn’t help. You couldn’t think of a reason to say no.

“Alright,” you agreed with a heavy breath.

“Good girl,” she praised with a squeeze to your shoulder.

You felt your clit throb between your legs. At this point, you knew you’d probably have to rub one out as soon as you reached the privacy of the guest room.

Turning around, you dropped the two shirts back on the bed. Without much hesitation, you started to undress. Your shirt was first to go. You tucked your fingers beneath the hem and peeled it off.

Ada’s gaze focused completely on you as she saw the soft skin of your back completely exposed. This was the most important part of the night. If she messed up here, all of it would have been for nothing. She hadn’t planned out every minute movement she would make, but she could think on her feet. This would work.

She headed over near the closet entrance again but didn’t venture inside. She stood right outside in front of the full length mirror, a seemingly reasonable position where she was sure you’d be able to see her if you turned around.

Bending down, she unbuckled her heels and then kicked them to the side. She undid her slacks next and shimmied them off to pool around her ankles.

You heard the rustling of the fabric and the clicks of unfastening. It didn’t register in your mind what they would be coming from until you glanced over your shoulder and spotted her. Your jaw fell open while your eyes bulged from their sockets. You were pretty sure you stopped breathing in the middle of removing your bra.

She stood there as if nothing about this was odd. Her fingers worked on undoing the buttons on her blouse, parting the two sides and revealing a sliver of her skin. Her legs were already out in the open, all for your eyes to see.

In the reflection of the mirror in front of her, she caught your wide-eyed stare. She spun around to face you head on. She unhooked the last button. Her shirt fell open, allowing you to see her flesh from her navel to her collar bone. Underneath the blouse, she still had on a lacy bra and matching panties.

Not missing a beat, she just chuckled and walked closer. “Did you get stuck, honey? Need some help?” she asked.

She approached your frozen form and brought her hands to your shoulders where your bra straps sat. Using her nimble fingers, she guided the thin pieces down your arms. The entire garment fell away and dropped to the floor in front of you.

“There you go. Let mommy help you,” she whispered.

This time you actually couldn’t tell if the words were real or imagined. They’d been so hushed, so faint, but you would swear on anything that you felt them fan over your neck.

She moved to your jeans next, flicking the button open and tugging the zipper loose. The denim crumpled under the force of her hands shoving them down. You stepped out of each pant leg before she kicked them aside along with your bra.

Her hands came to rest on your hips for a moment before gliding up your sides. They smoothed over your curves like streams of warm water. You felt the gentle pressure move from your sides around to your tummy. She was only teasing you right now. Her touches felt good, but they didn’t explore anywhere that would give you true pleasure.

“You have such soft skin,” she cooed.

“Thank you,” you hummed, preening under her touch.

“So tender and pretty. Perfectly smooth,” she whispered.

You were already melting under her hands, but she knew she could go further. She ducked in and kissed your neck. You moaned at the feeling, at her hot mouth latching onto your skin. She laid a few more there after to follow.

“Mmm, so sweet too,” she hummed.

You whimpered and let your head fall back onto her shoulder, leaving more of your neck accessible to her lips. She took advantage. Leaning in, she licked a stripe over your pulse and followed the trail of saliva with a series of kisses. Her teeth scraped across the sensitive flesh.

“A-ada…” you sighed.

“I’m right here, sweet baby,” she purred, “Does that feel good?”

“Mhm,” you whimpered.

“I bet it does. You’re so sensitive, aren’t you? Jumping under every touch. I was like that at your age too,” she teased.

Her hands broke the little patterns they’d been tracing into your stomach to float upward. One by one they each landed on your breasts. Her palms cupped the mounds and gave them a gentle squeeze.

“You have such a gorgeous body,” she said as she nuzzled the space behind your ear, “You’re so shy. So precious. Running around my house like a skittish little puppy.”

No words of protest or denial made their way out of you. It felt good to bask in her attention, to know that she saw you as something so delicate.

“I think I’m starting to understand why though,” she teased.

Her fingers went to your pebbled nipples, pulling and tweaking the sensitive nubs. You mewled and squirmed in her grasp.

“Mommy,” you whined, not caring if she had actually been the one to say it first.

“Mhm. Look at you, already calling me mommy. You were thinking about this, weren’t you baby? You’ve been wanting mommy to take care of you?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, not being coy about it.

She grinned against your neck before turning you around. Once you could see her, she displayed a much more seductive expression. “Let mommy take care of you then,” she said.

With caring hands, she guided you onto the bed and laid you against a mountain of the pillows near the headboard. She crawled above you, looking down at you like a panther that had just caught its next meal.

“Let me have a taste of those lips. See if they're as soft as the rest of you,” she murmured before lowering herself.

She connected her mouth to yours. Her lips engulfed your own in a kiss, her tongue teasing you. You reciprocated. Your lips parted as you moaned, granting her access. She didn’t waste any time. Her breaths came out heavier as she focused herself entirely on you.

As her mouth worked on you above, her hands continued roaming your body below. She groped your hips and explored your thighs. You gasped softly at the mix of sensations, rolling your hips up against nothing.

“So impatient, baby,” she breathed as she pulled back, “You act like such a good girl all the time, but I bet that leaves you so desperate, huh?”

“Mhm,” you whimpered.

She nodded and moved down to your neck again. Her mouth trailed over the skin with little pecks and soft sucks. The idea of leaving marks tempted her, but that could come later. She didn’t intend on this being her only time with you.

You felt her kisses migrate across your throat to your collarbone and down to the valley between your breasts. Her tongue played there for a moment, drawing out the moments before she would give you your first real taste of relief.

“Mommy, please,” you tried, eyes fluttering.

“So demanding,” she cooed. She moved her mouth to the right though and wrapped her lips around your nipple.

You arched your back off the bed and breathed out a whiny sigh. The tip of her tongue swirled around the bud. She laved at it, applying the perfect amount of pressure to get you squirming. Her hands massaged your waist in the meantime. She would make sure you felt good all over.

Your legs shifted around at the tingling building between your thighs. You craved some friction so badly, but she was still fixated on your chest. Her mouth released your nipple and planted one more kiss on it before she moved to the other and gave it the same treatment.

It got the same pleasured reaction out of you that only increased when one of her hands came up to toy with the sensitive peak that already experienced her mouth. You mewled without shame, digging her heels into the mattress.

She finally let it go as she had the other one, with a wet pop. Her eyes flitted up to you, taking in your breathless expression. After a couple seconds, she started kissing down your belly. She scooted herself down between your legs.

“You’re so needy,” she cooed, “No one’s taken care of you in so long. It’s left you aching.”

Her fingers ghosted over your thin panties, the ribbed fabric nowhere near as luxurious as hers. You watched her eyes follow her hands. The dark irises locked on your center. Her thumb traced the length of your cunt, grazing over your clit down to your leaking entrance. A nice wet patch began forming on the seat of your panties.

“That’s ok though. No one else could take care of you like mommy can. You’d be wasting your time.”

Your eyelids felt heavy as you watched her tug your panties off, drooping with the weight of your lust. You felt the cool air hit the glistening folds between your legs as soon as your lower half was free of the thin covering.

“So wet for me already,” she said, “That’s my good girl. Always so eager to please.”

She didn’t waste time teasing. Why would she? After months of coveting, she finally had you within her grasp, ready for the taking. She gripped your thighs and dove in, flattening her tongue against your soaked core. With a broad stroke, her tongue dragged over the slick flesh.

You mewled in response. A soft gasp accompanied the sound. She spotted your fingers gripping the bedding. So responsive from the simplest of touches. You were going to be fun.

She attacked your clit next. First, she treated it with little flicks of her tongue. Quick and repetitive, it stroked the tiny bud until you let out a pretty whine. She then latched her lips on, sucking on your pulsing bundle of nerves.

All the thoughts in your head melted away. The only thing you could do at this point was babble out a small collection of words including “mommy” and “please more.”

She got into it. All her focus trained on you. This was what she had been dreaming of for a year after all. Ever since she saw you in that little plaid skirt. She’d have to have you wear it again one of these days so she could eat you out under it.

Your thighs squeezed around her head as she lapped at your entrance. It felt good, a more dull kind of bliss than what she’d brought you before, but still good. She didn’t mind the pressure from your legs. Her nails dug into your tender flesh and kept you right in place to continue on with her task.

You trembled and twitched with the ecstasy coursing through you. Your eyes rolled back, your vision going out for a second. It felt as though your head was engulfed by drowsy clouds straight from the heavens. The few people you had been with before never made you feel like this.

Your head had lolled back for a moment in the throes of carnal pleasure. When your vision started to return, you brought it back up to look at her again. Only she didn’t catch your attention this time.

Instead your pupils landed on the shadowy figure at the double doors you had entered through.

You practically jumped out of your skin before you realized who it was. She felt you startle and briefly looked over her shoulder before returning her attention to your pussy. The person stepped forward, allowing moonlight to cast over their figure and show their face.

Leon.

“It sounds like you broke her already,” he said as he approached the bed. Making his way to your pair, he ended up standing beside you. His eyes scanned over your nude body, drinking in every inch of your figure.

“I told you I’d have her nice and warmed up by the time you came home,” she replied, shooting him a smile from the crux of your thighs.

Their words flew over your head. You couldn’t really hear them with how fast your heart was beating. God, how could you have been so stupid? You totally forgot about Leon until this very moment. Apparently, a few drinks was all it took to let your pussy take control. All you had been thinking about for the last half hour was how badly you wanted Ada, how beautiful she looked laying in front of you, devouring you whole. The fact that she was married with a husband completely slipped your mind.

“Mr. Kennedy, I’m so sorry. I- um- We just-” you stammered, incapable of coming up with any sort of defense for your actions.

But he didn’t look mad. He sat down beside your shoulder, gazing down at you with some sort of affection in his eyes.

“I think I’ve told you before that I prefer when you call me Leon, sweetheart,” he told you, petting your head.

Biting your lip, you leaned into the touch. Your eyes looked so sweet gazing up at him as you did. He felt his blood beginning to flow South in response. His hand continued stroking over your scalp before moving to your shoulder, feeling your soft skin beneath his fingers.

“She’s been such a good girl for mommy,” Ada praised from below before rubbing your clit rapidly with her middle and index finger. The quick motion drew a whiny moan from you, only adding to Leon’s arousal.

His eyes flicked between you and his wife. “You didn’t give her too much to drink, did you?” he asked.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “She only had a few. What do you take me for?”

“Well she looks a little out of it. I just thought I’d check. My mistake,” he said, rubbing your cheek with his thumb absentmindedly.

She laughed softly at that. “You know I’m good with my mouth, darling. I don’t need any help getting her to look like that.”

You whimpered as she reattached her mouth to your cunt. Turning your head, you squished your face against his thigh. Your hips bucked. You could feel your release building up, the urge to let go flourishing inside you. Your noises became more high pitched, more needy. He looked down at you with something resembling curiosity with a trace of adoration.

“That feel good, baby? Not too much for you?” he asked.

“N- no, feels- mmph! Feels good,” you choked out between labored breaths. The hand closer to him flew up to grab at his thigh. Your digits dug into the material of his pants as another whine erupted from you.

He swapped his leg for his hand, letting you squeeze his palm as hard as you wanted.

“That’s it. Good girl. Hold daddy’s hand. I’ve got you,” he hummed.

Ada let her hand take over again and brought her head up to watch the two of you.

“Are you close, honey?” she asked.

“Mhm,” you responded instantly.

“Good. I want you to cum for me, ok? Cum for mommy and daddy. We’re gonna get you all nice and wet before you take daddy’s cock,” she said with the sweetest smile on her face in contrast to her dirty words.

You jolted at the prospect. A sharp breath tore through you right before your orgasm did. Your body shook and convulsed, arching and rolling as if you were possessed. Vaguely, you could hear both of their voices. You couldn’t make out the exact words, but the tones were that of praise.

The world around you faded away as you came on her fingers. Your chest puffed up and down with heavy breaths, and your head went limp against Leon’s leg.

Moments later as you began to come down, you felt him shift your weight onto the pillows. His presence receded and more hushed words filled the room. You heard fabric crinkling and a belt hitting the floor.

The mattress dipped as he climbed back on. Your eyes cracked open in time to see him kneeling between your legs. His hands rested on your bent knees, fingers caressing your skin. 

Your eyes swept over one of the bodies you’d been imagining in recent months. You could see the few veins that marked his forearms and biceps. He was still muscular despite getting older, but he had begun to fill out a little with some softer flesh. Brown hair dusted the skin from his navel down to a thicker patch of it at the base of his cock.

Meanwhile, Ada landed by your side. You took a breath, and her scent overwhelmed you in place of Leon’s. Her curves pressed up against you. Your head rested against the cushion of her breasts while you could feel the smoothness of her belly against your arm.

She kissed the crown of your head, nestling her nose against your hair. “You ready for daddy, baby? I know he’s ready for you,” she whispered.

You nodded, watching Leon as he gave his cock a few tugs. His eyes remained soft even in the midst of his desire.

While Leon wasn’t the one who’d hatched this plan to get you here, that didn’t mean he was oblivious to your beauty. There was a reason he’d agreed to this in the first place. He’d become just as enamored with you in the same time his wife did. He couldn’t help it. Even though he knew it was such a cliche at his age, he couldn’t stop himself from lusting after the babysitter.

He was only human. It was only natural for his eyes to linger on your waist when you squatted down to say goodbye to his daughter. The flutter in his stomach when you hugged him from the side a few times was just a matter of instinct. It wasn’t his fault the sound of your laughter nearly had him drooling or that the sight of you carrying his child to the car made him weak in the knees.

At least that’s what he told himself. That it was just a harmless crush. Something he’d never act on or get to experience anywhere other than the little scenarios that played in his head while he jerked off in the shower.

But then he found out his wife had an interest in you too. Your name came up during an intimate moment of their own. Between kisses, Ada asked him what he thought of you. He had pulled back, confused by the sudden question (and slightly nervous that he’d have to discuss you while already half-hard).

“Uh… she’s good. Christina likes her. She’s sweet, responsible, hardworking. Little shy, but I’m sure that’s just when we’re around,” he’d shrugged.

“Not like that,” she’d rolled her eyes and leaned back in to kiss his neck, “What do you think of her? She’s young, pretty, looks at you like you hung the stars. Don’t tell me you’ve never had a little babysitter fantasy before, darling.”

At first he’d thought it was a test. He denied it, proclaiming that was wrong. He only had interest in his wife, and you were just trying to do your job. The fact that you were easy on the eyes meant nothing to him. He didn’t care about your sparkling eyes or soft lips or nice curves. He didn’t notice the sweet sound of your voice or any of your cute little mannerisms. Pffft. No way.

“That’s a shame. Because I think she’s beautiful. She’s just so sweet and cute, and she doesn’t even know. The only place she could look any better is lying between us. And you know she’d be so sensitive to every little touch. She’d whimper like a little puppy,” she whispered against his skin.

In that moment, all his guilt had zapped away. He groaned at her words, accepting them without hesitation. There was no jealousy on his end, absolutely no discomfort at the idea of his wife lusting for someone else. Not when that someone else was you.

Because it meant that he got to have you like he did right now, spread out before him all blissed out and pretty. He guided his length to your entrance and dragged the tip over your folds. It glided through your wetness, nudging your clit before falling back down.

“You sure you’re ready, princess?” he asked.

“Mhm. Pretty please,” you affirmed, natural puppy dog eyes on display.

“Look at you. So polite,” he mumbled.

He prodded the head at your entrance, popping it inside. For a few moments, that was all that entered you. He let you adjust to the intrusion and let himself get used to the vise-like clamp of your velvety walls. The few seconds were necessary if he didn’t want to humiliate himself by blowing his load in less than a minute.

After that time though, he began easing it inside of you inch by inch. You whined at the light stretch. Ada stroked your arm with one hand and caressed the swell of your breasts with the other.

“That’s right, honey. You’re taking him so well,” she crooned.

“Fuck, she’s tight,” Leon grunted.

Ada grinned at that before looking at you again. “Are you squeezing daddy nice and tight? Showing him where to go?” she teased.

You moaned and nodded while Leon groaned and shut his eyes. Ada kissed your cheek as her husband bottomed out. Her hand fell to your stomach, rubbing over it. He leaned forward. His palm pressed down next to you on the mattress to keep his balance. He hovered above you, blue eyes looking down with lidded awe.

Pulling his hips back, he rocked them forward again right after. He dragged his pelvis away and then brought it right back, flush against your core. You whimpered with each movement. The satisfying slide sent warmth through you each time.

“Atta girl. Taking it so well, just like mommy said,” he mumbled.

Now he pumped his hips with more dedication. He increased his speed. Exploratory moves became deliberate strokes. Leon settled into a rhythm. He swiveled his hips and angled the way he pistoned them based on the little noises you’d make and the expressions that took over your face. He paid close attention to it all, wanting to learn what you liked, what made you feel good.

Ada continued moving her hands along your form. One moment she played with your nipples, the next she held your hips, after that she pulled your knees up further. It was dizzying trying to keep up.

“Our sweet girl,” she cooed in your ear, “Precious baby. Maybe this should be your new job. You’re good at your other one, but I think we’d like having you all to ourselves.”

Leon groaned again, his head hanging forward. Although the words had been directed at you, they had just as much of an effect on him.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, baby?” he asked, “Sitting around and looking pretty. Letting us spoil you like you deserve”

“You know she would. Do you even have to ask?” Ada said, “She’d love it. Spending the day kneeling between your legs while you work, using that mouth of hers whenever you want.”

“She could spend some with you too. Sit on your lap and let you play with her with one hand while typing with the other,”  he offered in return.

“And then one day, if she’s really good, maybe daddy will breed that cute little pussy and fuck a baby into her,” she whispered.

Leon’s hips snapped against you hard as you turned to eye her. The words broke you out of the spell his cock had you under before.

“What?” you asked.

She chuckled and cupped your jaw, giving you a patronizing kiss.

“What, sweetheart? You’d like that wouldn’t you? It’d make mommy and daddy so happy, you giving us another baby,” she said.

Your head spun at the idea. You blinked and sputtered. In your right, rational mind, you’d put a pause to this. But with a few drinks in you and one orgasm already under your belt, the idea didn’t sound all too bad. It’s not like you were gonna sign a contract or something. They weren’t even asking you to agree to anything right now. But just imagining it…

“You’d look so pretty, babydoll. Your hips all rounded out, all those curves nice and full, that cute stomach swollen with our baby,” Leon sighed.

Imagining it was in fact fun you decided. Your pussy clenched around him again before relaxing. You heard Ada moan softly beside you. Glancing over, you could see her fingers moving beneath her panties, working herself to the edge alongside you.

“You’d love it, honey. You’re made for it. And we’d take such good care of you, make sure you had everything you could want,” he added.

“Mmmm… daddy,” you babbled, unable to voice the full extent of your enthusiasm.

“Uh huh. Daddy’s right here. I’m gonna fill you up. You’re first little taste, yeah? I’ll get you nice and full so you know how it feels,” he moaned.

His bicep flexed as he continued to pound into you. Over and over, he slammed into your cunt. Ada continued moaning beside your ear. Her own noises were growing more desperate. You could feel her hips rocking up to meet her own touch.

“Daddy gonna- gonna- ah- gonna cum,” you whimpered.

“Go ahead, pumpkin,” he grunted, “Cum for daddy. Let me see my pretty girl let go.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You let release wash over you in a smooth wave. Your body writhed and twitched below his. You squirmed atop the blankets, letting your muscles melt into the plush comfort of them.

Next to you, Ada reached the high too. Watching you fall apart was the final straw in her own resolve. She bucked her hips and nuzzled into your throat while crumbling under the bliss of release.

Leon was the last one to join the club. He fucked you through your euphoria while approaching his own. When he finally hit it, a strangled moan burst from him. He fell forward against you, burying his face in the side of your neck not occupied by his wife. His hands gripped your hips and held them in place as he rolled his pelvis against your ass like a dog in heat. He fucked rope after rope of hot cum into you.

By the time he pulled out, you were nice and full just like he said you would be.

You were also undeniably sleepy. Your eyes were all but shut, and your body was curling up as though you were ready for a nap.

He stretched his arm out and pulled you against his side to rest. His other hand rubbed down your body, tenderly coasting over your soft skin.

“Such a good girl for us. You were so good,” he murmured, “Our sweet baby.”

Ada scooted near your back, her hand joining Leon’s in soothing you.

“Don’t keep her all to yourself,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes. “You had her to yourself hours before I got here,” he dismissed.

She smirked and pecked his lips before looking down at you. Leaning in, she nuzzled your ear. “Sleep now, baby. You need the rest. Daddy will carry you to bed in a little bit,” she whispered.

Like before, you didn’t need any convincing. Your muscles relaxed as they got comfortable and pulled the blankets into place. You let yourself drift off between their two bodies while the storm raged on outside. Your mind slipped into dreamland, letting reality melt away for a little while.