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beomie3 · 7 months ago

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night lounge - cbg

☆ summary: the nights spent at your favorite night lounge are everything you could ever need. until one night, you stumble upon a man that makes you rethink.

☆ wc: roughly 4k

☆ content: slow burn smut, beomgyu is a gentleman in a jazz band, light bondage (he uses his tie to fasten your wrists), light drinking, cursing, unprotected, lots of kissing :p, fluffy ending, he’s dominant in this <3

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your favorite late-night lounge lies hidden in the underground of a ritzy hotel amidst the city; candlelit and cozy, black silk sofas and a bar equipped with all the drinks for a perfect night.

it'd been your nighttime getaway ever since you discovered it accidentally one night. you haven't found a place quite as unique as it.

you just can't get over the smooth jazz band that plays in it's designated corner every saturday night at sundown when you arrive. the blend is perfect to the ear; smooth saxophone, soft drums, pretty piano, and sometimes a bassist who would join in at midnight and play well into 3 a.m. which is usually when you decide you're satisfied with your night and head home. which to be frank, it's hard to decide when to leave when it's your comfort place. it simply couldn't get better.

or so you thought.

you sat at the usual velvet barstool under the star-shaped chandelier, taking in the ambiance of the dreamy lounge as always. the subtle murmur of guests and clinks of glasses filling the room, dim with dainty light fixtures and flicker of candles in small glass jars at every table.

dried flowers, fairy lights, and classical paintings adorned the walls in such a beautiful way that made you feel nostalgic. like a museum in paris had been turned into a swanky hangout.

if you could describe the place in one word it would be; classy. no, elegant. no.. dreamy. there were just so many attributes to describe your favorite place, you couldn't begin to put your finger on one.

the peace you felt here while sipping red wine or a cocktail while listening to the smooth blend of instruments from the live ensemble was unmatched to any other place ever, like your own little neverland that you escaped to at nightfall.

the bartender you knew well had just placed a tall glass of chardonnay in front of you, setting tonight's mood as you relax under the liquid's musky yet enjoyable flavor.

cozying into the velvet seat, you shifted your attention back to the band, also paying mind to the people subtly beginning to fill the lounge as the night commenced; observing different groups of friends or couples who entered in intricate outfits, most faces familiar to you. admittedly, people watching was a pastime you fairly enjoyed.

but suddenly there appeared the face of a man you had yet to see, noticing his tall figure immediately as he came down the steps with a certain presence that radiated nothing but confidence and poise.

maybe it was the all-black suit he wore or the way his feathered ebony hair parted over his eyes in such a way that made you stare, following his every step into the warm glow of the lounge.

you wondered if he'd come here all along, or if he was simply a figment of your imagination after only two sips of your glass.

he's here for the same reason as you, it seems, as he briskly makes his way over to the bar.

noticing his approach you try your best to disregard him, acting as if you hadn't just watched his entire procession into the lounge.

"anyone sitting here, miss?" a sudden deep and breathy voice calls out from beside you, a dull pang at your stomach when you turn towards the man and realize how much more handsome he is up close. the way the dim light encapsulates his face, noticing the subtle gloss over his skin.

"you." you keep your wits about you, noticing the way the corner of his lip tugs upward when he nods toward you. swiftly taking the seat.

you turn and face the jazz ensemble again, tongue in cheek as you can feel his warmth beside you, trying your best to seem unfazed by his presence.

although your eyes are on the band, your ears are keen to his thick voice as he orders; a gin martini on the rocks and a side of lime, please. oh and put the jazz band on my tab while you're at it.

you nearly whip your head around at the sound of his request to put the jazz band on his tab. regardless, there were only four members but still...you were in shock and mostly intrigued. it isn't an act of kindness you'd usually hear at the bar.

the waiter gets to work on his drink and your eyes drift to him like a magnet drawn to metal; his mystery, you just wanted to freeze time and observe him.

once your eyes were on him you just couldn't resist the question that lingered on the tip of your tongue.

"do you know the jazz band?" you circle the rim of your glass with a finger, his chocolate eyes immediately boarding into yours along with all of his attention.

"i do. or else there wouldn't be one," his smile slowly grows as yours does, sipping his drink as it arrives. keeping his eyes on you all the while. he's only spoken two sentences to you but you swear there is something about his aura you just can't get enough of.

although he kept his response short and sweet, you put two and two together and concluded that he founded the band or something of the sort. either way, you just couldn't take your eyes off of him.

"well then today is my lucky day," you bring your glass to your lips and he lets out a deep chuckle, setting his glass down with a smirk at you. eyes still glued to his while he briefly looks away to set his glass down, you try taking him all in; the tiny freckle on his cheek, the silver ring in his earlobe, his long eyelashes. he was almost unreal.

"choi beomgyu," he holds a hand out to you, impressed with how much of a gentleman he's been in not even the five minutes you'd spoken to him. sad how low your expectations were after how many royal douchebags you'd come across at this bar.

you state your name in response, taking his warm hand and resisting the urge to smile too big when he slightly bows his head toward you, eyes never leaving yours as he gently shakes your hand.

that wasn't until he brought the back of your hand to his lips like a prince to a princess, that your heart nearly beat out of your chest; simply carried away by his charm. you’d never been greeted this way.

"i take it you enjoy my band," he slowly releases your hand. "rare to see someone just sit. listen. enjoy the music." he slightly reclines, bringing his glass back to his plump lips with those deep brown eyes on you.

"saturday nights are always my favorite." you nod, slightly reclining in your seat too, mimicking his body language.

"i know." his smile slightly grows behind the rim of his glass, wondering how the hell he knows if you'd never met him in your life.

"and how is it that you know that?" you slightly tilt your head, crossing your legs toward him and narrowing your eyes in await for a response.

"velvet chair at the end of the bar under the star-shaped chandelier. it's your seat. how could i not know where the most beautiful woman in this place sits?"

you're good at not showing how flustered you are; legs tightly crossed together, cheek caught in between your teeth, biting back the biggest damn smile.

"saturday nights are my favorite too," he looks over at the band and it isn't until he makes a bass-playing gesture with his fingers that the puzzle pieces click.

he's the bassist that comes on the stage when the lights go dark at midnight with only candles and fairy lights left to illuminate the room as people slow dance. you thought his silhouette might have looked familiar when he came down the stairs, considering that was all you ever knew of him.

he chuckles at your reaction to it finally clicking within you, truly appreciating your deep love for his performances, as no one usually cares much.

you and choi beomgyu continued chatting the night away, and he can see deep in your eyes that you're passionate about what you talk about. he loved finding out that the girl he always keeps his eye on when he's on stage secretly always admired him and his work.

when the bartender comes around with refills, beomgyu only orders water, finding it rather refreshing that a man can control himself and find satisfaction in only one drink as you usually do.

at midnight when the lights dim, beomgyu leads you hand in hand to the front row of the stage, getting to watch his performance front and center. he loves seeing you so close, usually having to deal with watching you from afar when you sat at the bar.

he performs dried flower, your favorite song preformed by the band. you watch his fingers caress the strings, long and dainty, pretty fingers. clad in expensive rings. wrist dangling with dainty charm bracelets. he has a certain class that is hard to find in men, and you feel yourself falling for him every passing second.

hes so passionate when he plays; eyebrows slightly furrowed as he instinctively plucks every note just perfectly. you’re also keen to every woman staring at him when his solo comes, whispering and giggling amongst one another. you grin.

after, he steps down and joins you in the crowd, asking for your hand and the two of you slow dance to the soft jazz, your head in his chest as he carefully steps with you. he smells of soft cashmere, and that’s the last thing you take note of before you’ve fallen completely head over heels.

the lights dim a bit more, his face barely lit by the candles but you can still see the sparkle in his eyes. his gaze is soft, yet intense and your heart stops as his face inches closer.

before you know it, your lips are touching what feels like velvet pillows; his lips. your heart races, blood rushing to your face and he pulls you closer, feeling his chest press against yours.

his sweet kiss lingers on your lips. you must have a sweet tooth, because you’re craving more.

“how about we get out of here?” his eyes are so intense on yours, realizing your fingers had interlaced into his long ago as you slow danced.

your eyes say it all; both of your body language says it all. you can practically feel your body heat radiating through your silk dress. cheeks flushed as he guides you through the crowd and out into the cool night air.

the taxi ride to his place is tense as you sit hip to hip, his fingers tracing your palm and you can’t seem to take your eyes off of one another. the taxi driver is the only thing keeping him from saying some not so appropriate things out loud, so instead he whispers them in your ear and you’re a giggling mess.

his high rise apartment is classy like him; low lighting and wooden accents, a baby grand piano in the corner under a chandelier, record player and a vinyl collection. an array of basses and guitars adorning the living room. it reminds you of the lounge, in fact; classical paintings and candles and dried flowers on the dining room table.

the tension only builds and builds, until it snaps.

he does so much as put a record on and offer you a glass of wine before your lips are on each other’s again. messy makeout, fingers intertwined in hair. his fingers precisely unbuttoning his suit before sliding under your silk dress.

the two of you stumble toward his king bed and you help him loosen his tie but he ushers your hand away, swiftly removing it from himself.

you fall backwards on his bed, feeling the silk sheets fluff up around you, cold against your boiling skin. he stands between your legs, pulling you toward the edge of the bed toward him with hands hooked underneath your thighs.

“hands above your head,” his voice is husky, eyes dark as he towers over you. dark brown hair messy and fluffed over his forehead.

his demand makes you twice as soaked and you swear a puddle has formed between your legs. you do as he says, feeling the cold air waft against the sensitive skin of your under arms and you’re pelted with goosebumps.

“good girl,” his voice is low, eyes dark. his cock twitches in his pants as you had done what he said, leaning down to hold your hands in place. your eyes widen when he uses his black tie to begin tying your hands together above your head.

“is this okay?” he focuses intensely into your eyes as he makes several concise knots, his voice tender and genuine as you bite your lip. it’s more than okay.

“mhmm,” you moan into his lips as he kisses you, pressing his hips against your clothed heat, legs spread, wrapping around his torso.

you didn’t know what to expect from this choi beomgyu guy, but you could tell he was amazing in bed since the moment you met. he’s had you on edge, turned on since the moment he spoke. he really knows how to turn you the fuck on.

you’re completely out of control now, your wrists fastened tightly together by his tie but you love the feeling more than you ever expected.

he starts slow but increasingly gets more feral. starting by kissing your neck softly, he slips your silk dress off and blood rushes straight to his dick.

you’re wearing a lace bra, extremely see through so that he can see that your nipples are hard and poking out him. but what makes him nearly salivate; you’re not wearing any underwear.

well, you were wearing underwear earlier tonight at first arriving to the lounge, but you’d taken them off somewhere along the night.

“check your pocket,” you eyed the front pocket of his suit jacket and when he stuck his hand in it to discover a pair of lacy underwear, his tongue darts to wet his lips. he fought the urge to absolutely fuck the shit out of you right here right now.

“such a sneaky girl, hm?” he cocks his head to the side, the hint of a sly grin on his lips as he slides his suit jacket off, leaving him only his white button up shirt, yet it’s unbuttoned so that you can see his bare chest and torso peeking through. he pushes the sleeves up and runs his fingers through his feathered hair to expose his forehead briefly. he’s so unbelievably sexy.

his hands are a bit rougher on you now, gripping the fat of your hips as he tongue kisses you, so messy and wet and hot. trailing his lips all over your chest, he bites your nipples softly through the lace and it feels so fucking good. he makes a mess of his spit, kissing your body until his reaches your bare pussy, already drenched for him.

“already so fucking wet and i haven’t even done anything,” he groans at the sight of your wetness dribbling out and onto his sheets. he really can’t believe his eyes at how soaked you are, can’t stop thinking of how good you’re going to feel when he fucks you.

his lips are level with your lower ones and he stares up at you through fluffed bangs over his thick brows. you anticipate what his tongue will feel like inside of you, shuddering when his hot breath wafts against you. you’re so sensitive.

he supports your thighs with his hands, setting each of your feet to rest on the tops of his shoulders. you’re spread wide open for him so that he has the best view of your entirety.

he hasn’t even fucking done anything and you moan out, a deep chuckle rumbling in his throat. just the air exuded from his nose when he breathes brushes against your clit and stimulates it.

his tongue finally traces over your bud and you whip your head back onto his memory foam mattress. you can’t do this; no, there’s far too much pleasure. you’d never been this sensitive with anyone in your life. you'd never been this turned on by anything.

when his lips attach to your clit and suck, your hands shoot into his soft hair, grabbing handfuls of it as you whimper loudly; slurping sounds and moans echoing throughout his bedroom. your sounds egg him on; cock twitching violently in his pants with every single one of your sweet sounds.

when he inserts two long fingers into you and curls them up to your g-spot, it’s over for you. it only takes about four strokes of his fingers until you’re spasming, fluttering intensely around his fingers and grinding yourself into his face. his moans vibrate against you. no one had ever made you finish this fast.

“god beomgyu you’re- so fucking good-,” you huff out of breath between words, heavy head thrown back, chest heaving. his ego is stroked yet again.

the recovery from your orgasm is fast as he is quick to kiss you, need prevalent in his veins as you feel fire in him with the way his lips devour yours.

you clench around nothing, squeezing his arms tightly as nervous shudders course through your veins. you need him.

“choi beomgyu,” you whisper against his lips and his hungry eyes board into yours, lips puffy and glossy; he’s looks way too hot right now. you lean up to whisper in his ear.

“fuck me,” your voice is quiet, desperate. hot breath seeping down his neck. he is done for. he's kept his composure this long. but there is always a point where he absolutely loses it.

he can’t wait any longer, swiftly unbuckling his belt and dropping his perfectly ironed black trousers down to his knees along with his boxers.

when his cock springs out, it slaps up against his abdomen with a heavy thud and your eyes widen. he’s got a big fucking dick. your throat bobs as you swallow down a bundle of nerves.

“holy shit,” you say under your breath but he hears you; dark smirk spreading across his lips. he looks down at himself, spreading the ooze of precum around his tip; a darkened pink shade with all of the blood flowing up to it.

since the moment you saw him walk through the door at the lounge tonight, you’ve wanted to fuck him. but the moment he saw you for the first time; oh he’s been wanting to fuck you for months.

"what was that darling?" he leans down to look into your eyes, tender touch against your cheek as he snakes a hand around your thigh and pulls it up so that your knee is up against your chest.

"hm?" his lips are inches away from yours, eyes dark and flicking down to your lips and back up into your eyes repeatedly. he throws your leg over his shoulder.

your heart strums against your ribs as you're anxious to take him, yet you can't wait.

"you can take me, right gorgeous?" he tilts his head and you can't process how beautiful he looks right now; soft, chandelier lights of his bedroom reflect from his big, brown doe-shaped eyes. your mauve lipstick smeared across his lips and chin. hair tousled back, revealing his perfect eyebrows and forehead. the sheen of sweat glimmering from his skin.

"i can take you," a small grin is on your lips as you fiddle with the end of his tie around your wrists, realizing that having your hands tied above your head has made you way more sensitive than normal.

looking down at the space in between the two of you, he rubs the tip of his cock up and down your folds, causing you to shudder. he places small kisses to your knee, as it's resting by his cheek.

you suck air through your teeth when you feel a slight stretch as he guides himself into you, going slow enough to get you adjusted to his tip. you keep your eyes locked as he slides the rest in little by little, moans growing louder as the stretch intensifies. looking down, you realize he's only half-way in and you look up at him, lip caught between his teeth.

the stretch is so intense, but not as intense as his eyes on yours, searching deep into your soul. his hands come up to fiddle with the knot of his tie around your hands, suddenly feeling it loosen and your hands are free. immediately, they fly into his hair, thumbs soft over the sides of his face. he untied them for this exact reason; to feel your intoxicating touch all over him.

suddenly, you feel his hips meet the back of your thigh, and that's when you know he's all the way in. your mouth is agape as he slowly begins moving in an out of you, crashing your lips back to his as the skin of his thighs begins to slap against yours.

his hands are busy on you; one palming your tits as the other hooked under your thigh to keep your leg situated atop his shoulder.

taking him raw feels so wrong but so right; the edge of his tip feels fantastic against your g-spot, thick veins massaging you just right. your arousal leaves a milky white ring around the base of his cock as he slams into you. he collects some, bringing it to your mouth, followed by crashing his lips to yours again so that you can both taste it together.

“you feel so fucking amazing,” he breaks the kiss to speak to you, followed by a moan as he slams as deep as he can into you. you’ve ajusted well at the is point that the pain has turned into pleasure. his soft whimpers in your ear were enough to make you even wetter, easing the process of being stretched out.

he shuts his eyes as you’re sucking him i’m so perfectly, so turned on by the squelch of your pussy every time he enters you. he fights back the urge to cum, but it’s so hard with how beautiful you look right now.

your face is contorted in pleasure, hair sprawled out all over his bed, shimmery sheen on your skin from a mixture of sweat, tits bouncing with every slam of his hips.

“god you’re taking it so well,” he groans against your neck, lifting your other thigh so that both of your legs are swung over his shoulders. he’s impressed by your flexibility as his chest is pressed against yours, realizing just how far he is leaned down against you.

his hips are rhythmic against yours, grinding himself into you, a good tactic to stimulate your clit with this pelvis. it’s like he’s a professional.

his name along with a mixture of curses leave your lips in drawn out moans as your nails dig into his back, the sound of his name nearly drives him insane and he fucks you harder.

you feel the familiar ache in your core with every thrust, and he already knows you’re close because of how much tighter you’ve become around him.

he’s a moaning mess, deep voice like honey in your ear as you suck him in even tighter now. he reaches down to thumb at your clit and you’re right there, right on the edge.

“harder beomgyu, fuck me harder!” you bite down on his shoulder, his hips slamming at a pace so fast that his bed is creaking so loud. your moans probably audible from outside his apartment at this point.

“you gonna cum for me? yeah? cum all over my cock sweetheart c’mon,” his voice is loud yet deep and husky. his eyebrows are furrowed together in pleasure, sweat dripping from his neck and onto your chest.

the slapping of skin is so loud now, and he gives you three precise thrusts before you completely combust.

your sporadic moans are not what tells him you’ve just finished, it’s the absolutely insane convulsions that he feels inside you, fluttering around him at what feels like 200 miles per hour.

it’s enough to push him right over the edge in an ínstense orgasm. he pulls out immediately, busting all over your tummy and angling it to get some on your chest and face. milky white all over you, and there’s a lot too.

he’s so god damn vocal as he cums, his head thrown back so that you can see his addams apple in full glory, bobbing up and down as he moans.

you wipe your chin of his cum and lick your fingers clean, addicted to his salty-sweet taste.

he looks so exhausted as his chest heaves, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. but he doesn’t lay down on the bed just yet; instead he walks to his bathroom, getting a towel to clean you up first like the gentleman he is.

he wipes his fluids off of you with a warm wash rag, tender eyes on your skin as he softly cleanses you. there is a soft quietness about the room, not awkward, soothing actually.

he helps you under his silk sheets once you’re all cleaned up and he snuggles under with you, propping his head up on his hand as he rubs small circles on your shoulder.

“i look forward to seeing you at every show,” his voice is soft, a tender smile on his lips. you love how calm he is, how respectful, how tranquil. almost like he’s healing something deep within you.

“always,” you smile in return. you talked about anything and everything, in love with the way his eyes were attentive to you, keen to every single thing you had to say.

finding his hand under the sheets, you fiddle with his fingers, imagining all the things the future has in store for the two of you. you just knew this was the start of something special.

you hear the record player in his living room echoing with your favorite song, dried flower.

“can i have this dance?” he squeezes your hand under the sheets, smiling. and although you’re both tired, you each slip on a robe and walk hand in hand to his candle-lit living room.

it feels like you’re meant to do this with him, like you’ve done it together before in a past life.

you thought nights at your favorite lounge were everything you could ever need. but that wasn’t true. because tonight, meeting the love of your life proved you wrong in every single way.

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note: here is a gyu fic!! tysm for continuing to support my works while i've been gone. i'm currently vising japan and i've been here for a few months :) i'm happy to announce i'm working on a tokyo part 3 for those who enjoyed tokyo and the sequel!!! i plan on releasing more fics in the mean time. i hope you enjoyed this one<3

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withercrown · 9 days ago

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The worst thing about the reductive argument about whether Vander and Silco are "brothers" is that everyone involved misrepresents what that word actually means, and as a historian I have had enough.

"Brothers" is not meant to evoke either actual brothers (they are just simply not brothers, either by blood or adoption) or brothers-in-arms (this is a militaristic concept which is not appropriate imo).

The kind of 'brotherhood' they share is specifically revolutionary/national brotherhood.

The French flavoring of the show—everything from the graffiti to the architecture of Piltover (it's just Paris, guys) to the revolutionary imagery—is one of the things I love most about Arcane. Fortiche is a French studio. They wove their own history and culture into their work.

What's the single most famous phrase associated with the French Revolution?

"Liberté, égalité, fraternité".

This motto was popularized by Robespierre in a speech he gave in 1790. It encapsulated the spirit of the French Revolution so completely that it became institutionalized as the national motto of France to this day. The concept of brotherhood in an explicitly French revolutionary setting is not ambiguous and we are not going to pretend that it is.

"Men of all countries are brothers, he who oppresses one nation declares himself the enemy of all." -Maximilien Robespierre, speech delivered April 24, 1793

During the Revolutionary period, it was the feeling of belonging to a common struggle among the people of France, all together, united as brothers, by their beliefs and their nationality: This struggle was led internally in France against the absolute monarchy, which had to be toppled. Source: France Diplomacy, Liberty – Equality – Fraternity

We have got to start thinking about why the creators might want to emphasize the revolutionary brotherhood between Silco and Vander so strongly. Fraternité was arguably the most actively dangerous part of the triad:

Fraternité was sometimes styled as “fraternité ou la mort” — “brotherhood or death.” This “you’re with us or you’re against us” mentality, cloaked in the ideals of freedom and enlightenment, would go on to fuel one of the bloodiest episodes in France’s history: the Reign of Terror. Source: Liberté, égalité, fraternité: French Political History and THE PLAGUE

Fraternity is not a toothless concept. This isn't about picking a brother and a sister and maybe a mommy and a daddy. This led directly to the beheading of the King and Queen of France and their son, and to a political slaughter severe enough to be named the Reign of Terror by historians. 30,000 people died, 17,000 by execution. These guys were not messing around. Again: this is France's (and Haiti's) motto today. You can go to France right now and see this all over their buildings and monuments.

Vander and Silco diverged on this point. When they speak to one another, they use the past tense. You were my brother. They no longer see each other as being part of the same vision. They no longer interpret brotherhood in a way that includes one another.

Fraternité ou la mort is practically a thesis statement for Silco's character. He lives and dies on his sense of brotherhood—and in fact, choosing his daughter over Zaun and his sense of revolutionary brotherhood directly and almost immediately results in his death.

(Not so incidentally, in making the choice of Jinx over Zaun, he refers to Vander as brother again, as their visions have finally come back into alignment.)

(they're both still wrong tho)

It's not enough to say they were brothers-in-arms. It's also not textually supported to say they were siblings. Their relationship to one another was defined through their commitment to Zaun, and their relationship with the fraternity promised by that dream.

I think there is a broad scope for valid interpretations of their relationship, btw—from revolutionary brothers to best friends to boyfriends. I am just so tired of seeing the same points repeated ad nauseam about the word 'brother' when it isn't really ambiguous at all what was intended, and learning that information is just France 101.

#arcane #silco #vander #zaundads #vanco #PLEASE LEARN ABOUT THE REVOLUTION #IT'S SO INTERESTING GUYS #I'M BEGGING YOU #NOT BROTHERS NOT QUITE BROTHERS-IN-ARMS #BUT A THIRD THING #THAT FRANKLY ISN'T SECRET AT ALL

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jjkeremika · 10 months ago

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perverted thoughts

pussy eaters (eren, levi, reiner, armin)

AoT men that desperately want to remember what you taste like.

eren jaeger

eren was an absolute whiner. he’s very vocal about how it’s practically a punishment, not letting him lick and taste you every day. it’s the first thing he asked for in the morning, running his long veiny fingers up and down the soft skin of your thighs as his pleading eyes settle just below your belly button, his lips parting and jaw locking as he intensely eyes the one spot of your body.

the pout lived on his face as his bottom lip jutted out and he rounded his eyes. the same begging expression he wore every other morning, when he pleaded for an energizing taste, when he argued that you just couldn’t look and smell the way you did and expect him not to want to lick you raw.

but that was the problem. eren always got too carried away. he’d wrap your thighs around his neck and dig his sharp fingernails into the skin to plant them solid, and he’d hastily lick and suckle and bite for as long as he wanted, until you were red and sore and the area was overstimulating and you were desperately scrambling away and eren’s large hands were dangerously pulling you back.

he was demanding, but more needy, practically getting on his knees and setting his nose just above your clit so he can smell you as he begs to have you, his hands starting to claw at your thighs as you push his face away. “fucking hell, baby,” he’d haughtily sigh, a high-pitched whine gurgling from the depths of his lungs, “s’not fucking fair, you know.”

eren would capture you between his chest and the walls, hold you still by your wrists over your head as his lips would ever so closely hover over your skin. “c’mon, baby, please, i never ask,” he’d lie through drooling teeth, his fingers caressing at the skin between your shirt and pants, “just one fucking taste, that’s all, i swear.”

levi ackerman

the light sweat and scorching heat felt like a spotlight directly on his back. felt like everyone watching as levi stared at the wet spot on the sheets, as he thought about the way liquid poured around his fingers and right out of you this morning like an aggressively leaky faucet.

each time levi stuffed his fingers inside you a little more forcefully, like if he tilted at the right angle and jutted in at the right speed the liquid would almost be forced back inside, encapsulated by his fingers and providing him the perfect, warm basin to lick from, not a single drop spared from his tongue.

but you were running out of time this morning and his fingers lingered too long, had enough energy to be finger and eye fucked before your alarm was blaring and levi’s morning fantasy was ripped away.

and now he stood shamefully staring at the wet spot you created, the one that hadn’t dried because the room hadn’t warmed beyond morning chill. he touched it, let the cool wetness spread at his fingertip as he remembered how hot you felt when your muscles enveloped his digits, as he considered if temperature really added to the flavor, or just the experience.

he rested on his knees as he crawled over the shadow of your body, pushed down on the spot with his knuckle and felt the liquid crawling to his skin. he licked his lips, felt the drool slide off his thin bottom lip and watched it join the stain. levi touched his cheek to the mattress, felt himself go cross-eyed just to keep fixated on the spot your eagerness left behind, closed his eyes to the image of your lower half rutting onto his hand, loudly moaning for more as the noises of your hips meeting his hand echoed and joined.

“mmf, fuck,” levi groaned to himself, his nose inching closer to the stain and his tongue starting to drip with an unprecedented neediness, his erection throbbing against his jeans as the thought of touching his tongue to your clit raced into his mind. he was rubbing against his hand, felt the grip on his mind crumble as the one in the sheets fisted. levi nosed closer, felt the hot wave of embarrassment as he touched his teeth to the sheets, let his mouth cover the stain.

the cold caused a recoil, but the achingly familiar taste had levi’s teeth digging into the fabric and squeezing for more sweet remnants of you, frantically sniffing the sheets for your scent. he sucked on the sheets, his saliva deepening the stain, and the heat flushed his neck as he thought of you walking in on him, catching him in the gross act and chastising him, calling him impatient and lamenting him for his inability to wait, but the thoughts of you walking in transitioned into thoughts of you changing, and levi hastily sat upright as he thought of checking your hamper.

reiner braun

reiner outright felt like a pervert when the thought of your wet pussy gliding on his tongue popped into his head. the thought of you sat on top of his mouth like you’re claiming a rightful throne, his nose providing the perfect tilt and leverage to grind back on his tongue, made his brain tingle, and he liked the visual of you rested back on his chin, letting the erotic fluid flow down his neck and throat and nourish a new beard.

the uncomfortable heat was easy to set aside when he was affronted with these thoughts in your home office, with the scent of you thickly hung in the air, with the knowledge that you sat on that chair.

with one quick glance to the door, reiner dropped to his knees, rested his arms along and shoved his face into the seat of the office chair, warm from the sun or from your cushion. he stifled a moan as he thought of how his face was now mere centimeters to where your ass was, and he could picture you walking in to sit down, not even realizing he’d placed his head there first.

his hand was already undoing the fastener on his jeans when the familiar heat washed over him and he thought of licking the chair, of tasting any and all remnant of you that could exist, of picking up on that imprint your curvy ass left behind.

the thought of staying there, leaving his face ready and presenting as your chair, got him hot and bothered, made his wrist flick twice as fast and he moaned from deep within his throat. reiner bit the seat and felt the awkward motion stagger up his jawline as he considered how pretty your thighs would look, collapsing on top of him, sitting so nicely on his cheeks, as the smell of you enveloped him, as the taste of you registered on his tongue, as all of you took over his senses.

armin arlet

his expansive imagination wasn’t always a virtue. when his mind drifted to the exposed skin near your clavicles, to the tasteful dip to your sternum and the ripples by your ribs, his shaded eyes and his smile became less than innocent.

armin was curious, an explorer by nature, and that curiosity extended to your body, understanding every dip and curve caused by a bone or a muscle, learning each landmark freckle and mole. you were an ever-changing story, with new scars and pores and spots that he imagined discovering and rediscovering.

he wanted to touch his tongue to each mark, like he were metaphorically planting a flag, claiming you as his own. he wanted to run his fingers along your skin, like his hands were sails and he was charting your ocean.

the saliva pooled in his mouth like a lake as armin thought of dipping between your legs, thought of letting his tongue skinny dip inside the natural reservoir. he stared at the grapefruit in front of him, thought of how you must taste sweetly similar, and picked it up hesitantly.

he brought it to his lips, let his curiosity get the better of him and poked his tongue out, licked daintily before repeating the stroke confidently the second time. he cautiously licked at the fruit, debated internally if he should squeeze some juice to simulate how he thought you’d respond, how he so eagerly hoped to find out.

armin could practically hear you calling his name as the juice stained his lips, the grin on his face almost overbearing and overwhelming him from the playful licking. he wrapped his other arm around his neck, played into the illusion of you pulling him in, let himself pretend you tasted so bitterly sweet.

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bananababblegigglemuffin · 3 months ago

Note

A fic where Logan wakes up with a morning wood and wakes the reader up because of it would be cool, fr

Hey sorry I’d have responded directly but I was asleep…. Ok alright that sounds AMAZING! I’m gonna do one with worst(my best)!logan and you’re basically his girlfriend in this, I imagine you being curvy in this, ps not skinny…

Note: This is my take on what happened after the entire multiverse saving, Logan found a girl at the ice cream store while deadpool was with him and now here you are sleeping besides him after a long night of dancing

KINKTOBER DAY 2: MORNIN WOOD with d&w Logan

It was a sunny afternoon and deadpool was tired and hot af, so he dragged along wolverine to the ice cream parlor nearby. "Do I really have to go with you?" Logan said in unreaping defiance. "Yes how else are we going to get you to socialize, you raccoon" deadpool said. Wolvie grunted in annoyance and eventually gave in.

At the parlor, deadpool went on a frenzy, he tried almost every flavor twice and ended up buying the confetti cake icecream on a cone. Logan didn't try any flavor he ended up directly purchasing the rum and raisin. "Is this your first time at this orgy?" deadpool questioned, "Actually yes" logan answered. Just as Wade licked away the icecream and Logan bit his, he was encapsulated by this beautiful goddess, i.e. you.

"Oh MY GAWD, you panda, you want to ask her out don't you?" Wade began his sugar crash. "I'll be back" Logan said. He approached you but wade suddenly interrupted and placed himself right between the two of you. "Ma'am this is Logan he's a sex slash love depraved baby boy who's just gone through a bit of a mass divorce, would you by any chance be interested in a bit of dancing tonight, and i mean seriously-" Logan enveloped Wade's mouth with his hand "Hey, i'm logan would you-" you enveloped his mouth likewise and said "yes baby boy" with a flirtatious giggle.

That brings you to this morning. Logan woke up with an intense musky pain in his groin, he angled on his shoulder to see what was wrong, His cock was rock-fucking-hard. He tried to sleep ignoring it but he just couldn't with you sleeping right in front of him in those grey sleep-leggings and the compression tank top. You breasts cascaded by the orange morning glow. Logan gently ran his finger across your cheeks down to your breasts and kissed you lips, in fact i would've said he drank those luscious lips of yours that talk to him about everything.

"Babe are you up? I need you so bad right now" he helplessly groans in a whisper. You wake up and flutter your naughty eyes at him, aww is my sweetheart a bit turned on, you went down to the boxers he was wearing and WHOAA HELL-OO. That THAT was not a 'little' turned on. He moaned as you cupped the bulge, begging to be let out of his tight boxers. "Yea baby i want you to relax because now i'm going to take care of it." you began taking off your leggings and he pulled down your top to reveal your breasts as you took off his boxers and positioned on top of his muscular thighs. the curtain was slightly open and so your entire figure bathed in the orange morning sunshine, this just turned him so. fucking. on. You began licking his tip and he groaned "Sweetheart please don't be a tease... are you not turned on? Need me to fix that?" jhe questioned and just reached down to run his pointer through your folds, discovering you were wetter than (I want to say mary puppins' tongue but) the Niagara falls. "Seems to me that that's not the problem bub" he said proudly.

As soon as you positioned his tip at your folds he couldn't control. He got on top of you making sure he doesnt crush you and relentlessly began to thrust "AAUEUHHH BABY! FUCK FUCK THAT THAT's Amazingg MMMHH" Logan screams as you moan in pleasure kissing him "Your doing so good for me hon" you let him know with great difficulty because this was the most enjoyable sex you had ever had.

After just a few minutes none of you can handle it anymore "YeA cum for me, Darlin' " Logan grunts.

You both cum together and he rests his head in the nook of your neck, heavily breathing, you stroke his cowlicks and wrap your legs around him, he kisses you and moves away "No, Lo stay were are you going" You beg, "Wait and watch babe" Logan gets lower, kisses your inner thigh making you shiver and he begans licking your clit already overstimulated by his balls banging on it. He inserts his tongue into you, making you cum on his face. "FUCK LO, aaaueghhh i'm- I'm_ mmmhmmhm " you couldn't help but let out the tears, It was so fucking good. "BABY BABE LO LO LO, I have to- I have to squirt" You pleaded "Go on honey give daddy all that deliciousness, i'm so thirsty" Logan said. You let it all out and he couldn't help but groan as you came and squirted at the same time, his grunts resonated through you making you ecstatic. He licked you clean, got a washcloth and cleaned you right after which he took you into the shower, you lay on his chest as he turned on the hot water, kissing your forehead and stroking your wet locks, "I love you, you know that?" Logan said. "I love you more than anything Lo"

"The sheet are a mess" you said embarrassingly "I would frame these sheets my love" logan said as though a fact. "Ummm, you want me to go?" you ask "Are you coo coo? I'm not letting my perfect little goddess go anywhere, especially not right now, you're going to spend the whole day with me, and you can wear my clothes don't worry 'bout that sweetheart" Logan said whilst spreading his arms out motioning you and hugging you

End

Authors note: SOrry girlies for the end i got a bit carried away listening to casual by chapelle roan, but Logan is a delicious baby, i personally loved this... hope you all tell me if you like it, if not what can i improve? have a good to all the goddesses out there

AGAIN BABES REQUESTS ARE OPEN

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d3n1r · 5 months ago

Text

the taste of you

kento nanami x fempov reader - MDNI 🔞

(content warning: 18+ NSFW, female pronouns and genitalia, sweat kink? is that a thing? LIGHT SOMNO / waking up to sexual advancements.)

(this is slow just like the time it took me to write it)

Kento had felt so terrible for not installing the AC in your shared bedroom sooner. Work had been so terribly busy for both of you, and by the time the evening came, there was nothing him or you wanted more than to sleep.

Granted, the windows were open and the fan was on, but it hardly mattered at the times you actually woke up. At night, the room was blistering from the heat of the day, and by morning, the sun had started cooking the room already.

But you weren't one to complain, no. Never complaining about any of Kento's promises- because even if it took him a while, he would keep them. Your perfect husband. The fact that he knew you weren't mad made him feel even worse.

Kento awoke before you each day- he was an early riser, while you were a night owl. It was lucky enough that your jobs made room for that in your schedules as well, letting him go to work bright and early and you able to rest for as long as you want before clocking in.

He sat up in the bed, not needing to peel away from you much to begin with because of the heat. It was already something over 70 degrees in there, and in your sleep, you had sprawled out, wearing a tank top that had drifted up along with a pair of panties. Even one of your socks had gone missing in the night- he thought it was adorable. You were adorable.

You had given him permission to wake you up to his dick in you a long time ago. The idea of him needing you so badly he couldn't wait for you to wake up was arousing. And while he had been hesitant at first, he came to understand the appeal when you'd squirm on his tongue sleepily and moan his name half-conscious.

Kento hummed in admiration seeing your nude body splayed before him, soft and practically glistening in the morning light. Subconsciously his hand went to cup your cheek, a warm smile on his lips that matched the heat of the room. His other hand trailed along your abdomen, relishing in the feeling of your plush skin beneath his fingertips.

Then his honey brown eyes widened. Slowly, a small bead of sweat rolled from the peak of your breast to the valley between them, threatening to continue a path down your abdomen to your stomach. It was encapsulating, and he felt himself frozen amidst the heat of the sun, which made you seem to glow to him. You were already so perfect, now covered in a light sheen of sweat.

Your body was so pretty and cute. He couldn't restrain himself from settling his hands gently on your sides, gripping them lightly as he leaned down closer, practically hovering over you. You had a scent that was so utterly you, intoxicating. Here you were in your sleep, your body trying to cool you off in your otherwise peaceful slumber to no avail.

But not to worry. Kento would help his ethereal wife since he had so unfairly forgotten about the AC. His eyes traced along the shimmering peaks of your chest, and before he could think any longer his tongue darted from his mouth, licking gently at the sensitive, but flat bud of your breast as you slept.

He almost moaned- you tasted a bit salty, but still utterly you. He could even taste the sun on your skin as it beamed upon your perfect body under him.

"Fuck, my love," Kento whispered, before wrapping his lips around your nipple, sucking and licking away the heated flavor of your skin, his hand going to circle your other nipple, the soft dampness of your skin allowing the pads of his fingers to trace your skin with ease.

He slowly released your breast from his mouth, admiring how the peak of it hardened in the warm air in contrast to his hot tongue that had just been pressing against it. Kento smiled in satisfaction, leaning to do the same to your other nipple, before his gaze turned.

That damn bead of sweat that had made him so feral in the first place.

It slowly started to roll down your abdomen as you breathed, and before Kento knew what he was doing, his tongue had caught it, licking a stripe up your skin to copy the roll of perspiration's original path.

Fuck, he was so hooked on you. Your sounds, your taste, the feeling of your soft skin- he could hardly think, drunk off of merely worshipping your body. Before he knew it, he was kissing along your body, his hands gently kneading the softness of your waist.

It was only his low moan that he couldn't contain as he pulled down your panties, seeing the sight of your wet core (he knew it was from the heat, it'd be unrealistic to imagine he'd made you wet in your sleep, right?) that made you start to stir, your hand moving to find his head at your pelvis. Your sleepy fingers threaded through his hair, your half asleep mind registering the feeling of Kento in your hand and happy he was there, and that was all.

Kento hummed, knowing he was playing with fire. He could wake you up, and you'd be groggy, but he'd be sure to reward you. You'd have no time to think about how hot it was without the AC if you woke up to his tongue soothing your clit.

With two long digits he spread your folds, his tongue flicking along the area around your swollen, warm nub. He was trying to get a rise from you, to stir you further, and it worked, your fingers curling in his hair like an involuntary flex.

"Ken, wh-" Your shaky, drowsy voice was cut off by a whine leaving your lips, his own lips having wrapped around the sensitive bud between your legs.

"Good morning, my love," He mumbled against your warmth, his tongue snaking between your folds, which made you shudder. "Did you sleep well?"

If it was any other morning, you'd have mumbled some groggy nonsense about the lack of AC having woken you up, but the heat clinging to your body right now felt much more pleasant. Just as Kento intended.

"Mm, yeah, f-fine," You retorted breathily, your back arching a bit for him as Kento eased a finger into your slit, the digit curling and flexing to ease you into the feeling.

He smiled- it was always his smile, the way his lips curled up and his eyes crinkled that made your heart skip a beat and flutter- along with another part of you fluttering around his now two fingers unraveling you.

"That's good, darling." Kento murmured happily, pressing a kiss to your clit as though it was the most normal mundane thing to do in that moment. You sighed, feeling your body heat up further, but not from the temperature of the room. At least, not entirely from that- not when he was making you feel so spoiled and pampered, his beautiful girl.

Your husband always made sure you woke up feeling your best. Even if he had forgotten to install the air conditioning again- was it on purpose?

... part two??

HELP I DREAMT ABOUT THIS INSPIRED BY THE FACT THAT ITS SO HOT OUT AND I DIDNT HAVE MY AC YET-

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nights-at-crystarium · 3 months ago

Text

Fragments - episodes 47-52 author notes

You can find similar breakdown posts on older episodes in my pinned!

Time to recap the first proper wolgraha miniarc. See what you might’ve missed, or simply enjoy the extra content in form of my rambling.

47 stands out as a bit disconnected, floaty, introspective episode fully focusing on Exarch’s pov. I’ve scattered some breadcrumbs for him throughout the entire comic, time to pick those up. He may be an oblivious fool in certain moments, but I believe he wouldn’t keep insisting on staying deaf and blind when evidence’s shoved in his face. So, this moment of recollection and rethinking marks the start of the canon divergence, all of his future actions are colored by this.

Vivi has a dire effect on some people even without trying to manipulate them.

The composition forms a star here :3c

This panel should make their likeness even more obvious, they’re mirror reflections, albeit deliciously twisted ones. Also, the V sign is literally something that Vivi. Just. Does.

Exarch's heard from Vivi himself that they might be the same, Urianger literally tells him to go to a mirror and ponder, but when he does, and tries to look a bit more like he imagines Vivi, he can't stand what he sees in the mirror. They still aren't the same in his heart of hearts, even if reality itself tries to prove otherwise.

Hidden Angst Time! I can only hope that most readers are familiar with the flashback bubbles by now, and that this panel reads as it should: Feo Ul embraces Exarch while pointing out that they’re also being ostracized by their kind. Though the ultimate fae wisdom lies in accepting something the way it is, and just not caring too much.

More under the cut~

*rewinds all the way back to episode 1* hehe

“Does a hero have to be happy about his job” is one of my personal fav lines so far, I think it hits hard, pointing not only at Vivi, but at Exarch as well, and the visual supports it. I think this encapsulates Exarch’s ideology.

Exarch’s GASP could be interpreted as saying GASP out loud, which only makes it funnier.

Vivi carefully plans his entrance in order to make the atmosphere less formal. Approaching normally just wouldn’t do it. Also he just feels relaxed and safe to be silly. Remember how lowkey he was since his arrival to the First? His behavior all but contradicted what I said and showed about him in the ARR arc and outside of the comic.

Well, that’s in the past now. He’s finished assessing the situation and concluded that it’s okay to be more himself.

Feo Ul's upset that Exarch used his “radar” to detect Vivi’s ambush while they’d just used a similar ability to make sure that no emet-selchs are around.

If you catch a flirty vibe from Vivi in this episode, you're correct.

Vivi when he's remotely interested in a man:

My flavor of lampshading the obvious exposition dump. Oh Exarch, you asked for this, no take-backsies.

Another few hard-hitting questions from Exarch. It's easy to gloss over these, but if you slow down and think, it's decent angst material. Has anyone ever been concerned about Vivi's feelings, or was it more convenient to look away, even if intently, even if both sides knew they're better off not talking about that, for there's indeed no wol replacement. What good does acknowledging the situation if you can’t change it.

This's Vivi's memory, thus he appears small against the looming forms of the world leaders. Rigid, formal, impersonal. Raha's memories of the Ironworks seem to have a different vibe, despite all the parallels of the duty imposed by the world on one special guy. Also yeah I do wanna make my own version of the 8UC timeline and characters someday, for now these are just random characters that I consider as placeholders. And the dunmeshi cameo x’D

Yes, he mocks the people that he's saved. He's VERY frustrated with his job.

I offer you a fun game: spot all the mannerisms that make Vivi and Emet so alike. I genuinely never thought about this until this year, while this scene's pretty damn old, i.e. Vivi's always been like this, it precedes my Emet brainrot.

I swear that this line also was there before my Emet brainrot, but now it makes for a hilarious kind of foreshadowing.

You could already tell how "fit" he is for solving trolley problems.

This’s his “oops I talked too much shit” face.

The way Exarch just quietly TURNS and LOOKS at Vivi cracks me up. Don't undermine the tone with random jokes, dammit. But is this random? I’ve already analyzed this moment somewhere but for the sake of keeping important things in one place: they wrestle for control here. Exarch winds up for something serious, while Vivi wants to steer the convo towards more casual. It does somewhat lower the tension, though Exarch doesn’t relinquish his lead in the convo.

This doesn’t save him from becoming Frank forever from here on.

This miniarc’s rich with raw, hard-hitting words, so I’ll bring this up again.

We’re finally getting the explanation and context for a lot of previous episodes:

And the following episodes only help driving this point home. Vivi already sees the First as a viable escape from the Source with all of its shitty people and endless problems.

"This's why I... enjoy my time away from the Source": even at this seemingly high level of trust between them Vivi won't openly tell Exarch about his plans to stay here, a variable he doesn't want to become a risk.

Yes, he does an entirely calculated and strategic flop. A literal thirst trap.

Meme provided by my discord server:

Vivi casts provoke, it's..... not effective

^ This’s one of my personal fav exarchs I’ve ever drawn DADDY PLS

A panel that everyone loved to bits :>

I pair angst with other flavors to make it fun and non-repetitive. It's not "boohoo I can never kiss my hero, the world will end if I do, I'm so aggravated with myself", it's the hooded Exarch (duty) being mad at the unhooded Exarch (human), and delivering the same notion in a fun exchange. You can't help but laugh at the comical chibi violence, at the same time you acknowledge that it's a pretty fucked up act of suppressing one's innate human desires.

It's not a date, they just sit and talk <- the water in which Exarch is being slowly boiled.

I rarely talk about the visuals, but here I intended to make it look like a magical moment frozen in time. It's immersive, whimsical, full of color and movement. Despite the perceived warmth, the composition splits them apart, they're alone together. It’s still Raha’s pov, Vivi doesn’t seem to have any fond memories of the Source at all, we only hear about the past from his current jaded self.

An in-universe acknowledgment of the ARR arc lasting only 11 episodes x’D Though it’s all by design, it was meaningful only to Raha, while being a forgettable blip in time for Vivi.

Episode 52 opens with.... *drumroll*

NIP SLIP

I lovingly rendered that nip and I’ll make you look at it.

Ibuprofen meme would be the first thing that comes to mind, but consider the better/worse caption: "come to daddy". In all seriousness though, it’s a cool panel that I wanted to appreciate again. This IS Vivi’s pov.

The grimy beaten up Vivi creates questions that are answered in episode 53, which is yet to be released publicly at the moment of writing this. Some episodes, like 52-53 and 42-43, come in pairs that only make sense together due to the non-linear storytelling.

Yes this’s Aymeric, no I won’t say anything else :’> One thing that’s worth noting is the face Vivi makes here. And the distant, emotionless tone with which he recalls the moment of his own near-death.

Lemme spell it out even more plainly: Vivi romanticizes the moment he almost died. Exarch just happened to be present in that moment, and Vivi latched on to him as someone who would grant him escape, freedom, peace.

“A kindly wizard from fairytales”. I regret to inform you that we have two delusional fucks on our hands. Both see each other as some kinda dreamt up, idealized, mythical figures.

This miniarc isn’t over yet, but I’m wrapping up the recap here. Thanks for reading till the end~

#ffxiv #vivien rell #crystal exarch #g'raha tia #wolgraha #wol x g'raha tia #ffxiv: fragments #fragment ii: new world old friend #fragments talk

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markrosewater · 2 months ago

Note

I think you made a great point about Universes Beyond from a design standpoint and true in my experience playing the cards. I've played Hobbits vs Sauron regularly and had a blast. I have a Lara Croft Commander deck that is one of my favorites. Captain America looks both fun and flavorfully perfect. Throw and Catch is a perfect encapsulation of how he functions in comics.

But as a person satisfied by the design, I still can't help but feel uncomfortable. A lot of this is a premium product, limited in it's release and distributed in a way that makes players getting it difficult. Most people don't know Lara Croft exists and won't know the fun of bringing Legendary Artifacts and Lands back with her.

It also just feels like too many cards. A lot of people had already been complaining about too many set releases before Universes Beyond ramped up, and this is just adding to it. Too many sets and cards to keep up with. And it's expensive. Personally, if Magic went back down in set releases and had 1 universe beyond a year, it wouldn't feel like too much.

The design team is killing it with these cards. You have to read so much negativity that I do want to make clear I'm loving most of what is being designed. Even the cards in Universes not for me I can recognize cool mechanical and flavorful design. The parts that dissatisfy me are the parts you and the design team are not involved in. Too much and too expensive. Thank you for reading and keep up the good work.

One point that I think has been missed is that 2025 has less overall product releases than 2024. Here's what released in 2024:

Ravnica Remastered

Murders at Karlov Manor

Fallout

Outlaws of Thunder Junction

Modern Horizons III

Assassin's Creed

Bloomburrow

Duskmourn

Foundations

That's nine new product releases, eight with new card designs (Ravnica Remastered was all reprints), and eight that were booster releases (Fallout was just Commander decks).

Here's what we're releasing in 2025 (and this is it, we announced everything):

Innistrad Remastered

Aetherdrift

Tarkir Dragonstorm

Final Fantasy

Edge of Eternities

Spider-Man

Unannounced Universes Beyond product

Note: Foundations continues to be on sale, but with the same content it had in 2024

That's seven new product releases, six with new card designs (Innsitrad Remastered is all reprints), and seven that are booster releases.

That's two less new releases, two less new products with new content, and one less new booster release.

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sweetcherryharry · 8 months ago

Text

lunch

based on the song 'lunch' by billie eilish.

pairing: harry styles x reader

from the first moment i listened to the song i NEEDED to write something based on it. tbh it wasn't edited, so sorry if there are mistakes. hope u enjoy!

(masterlist)

I could eat that girl for lunch Yeah, she dances on my tongue Tastes like she might be the one And I could never get enough

The bustling energy of the party swirled around Harry, a kaleidoscope of laughter, music, and conversations. Yet, his gaze remained fixed on Y/N across the room. She stood amidst a circle of friends, her vibrant laughter ringing out like a melody that cut through the noise.

His eyes traced the elegant curve of her neck, the way her hair cascaded over her shoulders like a silken waterfall. She gestured animatedly as she spoke, her hands painting vivid pictures in the air. The way her eyes sparkled with amusement, the genuine joy radiating from her every inch of skin, made his heart quicken.

"I could eat that girl for lunch," he murmured to himself, the phrase echoing a sentiment far deeper than the words implied. It wasn't a physical hunger, but a craving for the essence of her – the wit, the warmth, the intoxicating energy that drew him like a moth to a flame.

The thought of Y/N danced on his tongue, a symphony of flavors that he yearned to savor. She was sunshine and spice, a tantalizing mix of sweetness and intellect that left him wanting more. Each encounter with her, each shared laugh and stolen glance, was a morsel that only fueled his appetite.

As he watched her toss her head back in laughter, a sudden realization struck him. Tastes like she might be the one. The thought resonated within him, a profound truth that he couldn't ignore. It wasn't a fleeting infatuation or a surface-level attraction. It was a soul-deep connection, a recognition that he had stumbled upon something rare and precious.

Their friendship had blossomed over time, a tapestry woven with shared jokes, heartfelt conversations, and unspoken understanding. Yet, from the very first moment their eyes met, Harry knew there was something extraordinary about Y/N. She possessed a magnetism that pulled him in, a captivating aura that left him utterly spellbound.

A slow smile spread across his face, a warmth blooming in his chest. And I could never get enough. The words whispered through his mind, a mantra that encapsulated his desire to delve deeper, to explore every facet of Y/N's being. The thought of spending more time with her, of unraveling the layers of her heart and mind, filled him with an exhilarating sense of anticipation.

I could buy her so much stuff It's a craving, not a crush, huh "Call me when you're there" Said, "I bought you somethin' rare And I left it under 'Claire'"

Harry found himself constantly thinking of ways to make her smile, to surprise her with little gifts and tokens of affection. It wasn't just a fleeting infatuation; his feelings for Y/N had blossomed into something deeper, more profound.

One afternoon, while browsing a vintage market, he stumbled upon a delicate silver locket engraved with intricate floral patterns. It was a piece of exquisite craftsmanship, a rare find that whispered of timeless elegance. He knew instantly that it was meant for Y/N. The locket seemed to embody her essence - delicate yet strong, beautiful yet unassuming.

With a surge of excitement, he purchased the locket and carefully placed it in a velvet-lined box. He imagined Y/N's eyes lighting up as she opened it, the surprise and joy radiating from her face. The thought of her reaction filled him with a warmth that spread through his chest.

He couldn't wait to give it to her, but he wanted the moment to be special, away from prying eyes and flashing cameras. So, he decided to leave it at her favorite coffee shop, tucked under the name 'Claire'—a playful code they had developed in the early days of their friendship to protect Y/N's privacy from the ever-present media. It was a secret only they shared, a testament to their unique bond.

Dialing her number, he waited for her to answer, his heart pounding with anticipation.

"Hey, Harry!" Y/N's cheerful voice filled his ear, instantly calming his nerves. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to let you know I'm thinking of you," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of mystery, hoping to pique her curiosity. "And, oh… I might have left you a little something special at our usual spot."

"Really?" Y/N's voice rose with excitement. "What is it?"

"You'll have to find out for yourself," Harry said with a chuckle, enjoying the anticipation in her voice. "Let me know when you get there."

He could practically hear the smile in her voice as she replied, "I'm already on my way!"

As Harry hung up, he couldn't help but grin. The thought of surprising Y/N, of giving her something that reflected his deep affection for her, filled him with a warm glow. This was more than just a crush; it was a craving, one that he knew would never go away.

So now, she's comin' up the stairs So I'm pullin' up a chair And I'm puttin' up my hair

A light knock on his apartment door pulled Harry out of his reverie. A wave of anticipation washed over him as he crossed the room, his heart beating a little faster. He took a deep breath, composing himself before opening the door.

There stood Y/N, her face flushed with excitement, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You wouldn't believe what I just found at the coffee shop," she exclaimed, holding up the velvet box.

"Oh really?" Harry feigned surprise, a playful smirk on his lips. He stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. "Come in, tell me all about it."

As Y/N walked into the apartment, Harry's eyes followed her every move, admiring the way she effortlessly filled the space with her energy. He felt a surge of warmth and affection, a longing to make this moment perfect for her.

"So," he said, pulling out a chair for her at the small dining table, "what did you find?"

Y/N eagerly opened the box, revealing the delicate silver locket. Her eyes widened with delight as she traced the intricate patterns with her fingertip. "Harry, it's beautiful," she breathed, her voice filled with awe.

"I'm glad you like it," Harry replied, his heart swelling with happiness at her reaction. He wanted nothing more than to see her smile like that, to be the reason behind her joy.

"I love it," Y/N corrected him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "It's the most thoughtful gift I've ever received."

As she reached for the locket to fasten it around her neck, Harry noticed a few strands of her hair falling loose from her ponytail. Without thinking, he gently tucked them behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her skin for a moment longer than necessary.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes locking with his. A moment of shared understanding passed between them, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken emotions that hung in the air.

Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he realized that this was more than just friendship, more than a mere crush. It was something deeper, something undeniable. He wanted to be the one to make her smile, to cherish her, to be her safe haven in a chaotic world. And as he gazed into her eyes, he knew that he would do everything in his power to make that happen.

Baby, I think you were made for me Somebody write down the recipe Been tryin' hard not to overeat You're just so sweet

Weeks had passed since the night of the locket, and the once unspoken feelings between Harry and Y/N had evolved into a palpable tension that hung in the air whenever they were together. Their friendship remained strong, but an undercurrent of longing and desire pulsed beneath the surface.

The pair –along with their group of friends– were illuminated by the dim lights of the bar, a lively mix of laughter, clinking glasses, and the rhythmic pulse of music washing over them. Harry leaned against the bar, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand, his gaze fixed on Y/N right next to him. She was close, their knees occasionally brushing against each other, sending sparks of electricity through him.

"Baby, I think you were made for me," Harry finally blurted out, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. The alcohol had emboldened him, giving him the courage to voice the sentiment that had been echoing in his mind for months.

Y/N turned to face him, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. The playful banter on her lips faded as she met his gaze, a flicker of recognition dancing in her eyes.

"Very funny," she retorted, her voice barely a whisper above the din of the bar, though her tone wasn't as lighthearted as her words suggested.

Harry leaned in closer, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. "Who said anything funny? I didn't." His voice was low and husky, sending a shiver down her spine.

A moment of silence hung between them, the air thick with unspoken desires. The music seemed to fade into the background as their world narrowed to just the two of them, their bodies mere inches apart.

"Why would you say that?" Y/N finally asked, her voice barely a whisper. "That I'm made for you —I mean?"

Harry's hand found hers on the bar, his fingers intertwining with hers. He took a deep breath, the warmth of the whiskey emboldening him further. "Because it's true," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I think we both know it."

He paused, his thumb gently caressing her hand. "We fit together, Y/N," he continued, his eyes searching hers for a sign of reciprocation. "In a way that I've never experienced with anyone else."

Y/N's heart hammered in her chest. She had felt it too, the undeniable connection that sparked between them every time they were together. The way their laughter intertwined, the way their thoughts seemed to align effortlessly, the way their silences were never uncomfortable but filled with an understanding that transcended words.

"I...I don't know what to say," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "But I do understand what you mean– I also feel like you're meant for me."

A wave of relief washed over Harry, his heart swelling with happiness. He squeezed her hand, a silent reassurance that he understood her unspoken feelings. "You don't have to say anything," he whispered back, his eyes filled with love and adoration.

At that moment, words were unnecessary. Their shared gaze spoke volumes, a silent symphony of affection and desire. Harry leaned in, closing the distance between them. His lips met hers in a tentative, tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with longing, a culmination of months of unspoken desires and a shared understanding that had deepened with each stolen glance and whispered conversation.

The kiss was electric, sending shivers down their spines. It was a moment of pure bliss, a confirmation of the undeniable connection that had drawn them together from the very beginning. As they pulled apart, their eyes met again, filled with a newfound understanding and a shared secret that only they knew.

"Finally!" one of their friends cheered from across the table, breaking the spell that had momentarily enveloped them.

Harry and Y/N turned towards the sound, their cheeks flushed with embarrassment and a shared secret. A wave of laughter erupted from their drunk group of friends, a joyful celebration of the love that had finally blossomed between them.

I'll run a shower for you like you want Clothеs on the counter for you, try 'em on If I'm allowеd, I'll help you take 'em off Huh

As the night went on, the air between them grew thick with unspoken desire. Every stolen glance, every accidental touch, ignited a spark that threatened to consume them both.

"Stay with me tonight?" Harry whispered, his voice husky with desire as he leaned in closer.

Y/N's eyes met his, a silent question in their depths. A smile tugged at her lips as she nodded, her heart pounding with anticipation. While she had been to Harry's apartment many times before, it had always been as friends, platonic. This time felt different.

With a final lingering kiss, they reluctantly rose from their seats, their hands intertwined as they made their way towards the exit. The world outside seemed hazy and distant, their focus solely on the promise of intimacy that awaited them in the quiet sanctuary of Harry's apartment.

As they stepped inside, Harry kicked the door closed behind them. He turned to Y/N, and without a word, they melted into each other's embrace. His hands found her waist, pulling her close as his lips met hers in a passionate kiss. Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair, her body responding to his touch with a fervor that surprised even her.

They moved as one, their kisses growing deeper and more intense as the pent-up desire between them finally found an outlet. The world narrowed down to the taste of him, the feel of his hands on her skin, the sound of their breaths mingling in the quiet apartment.

But as Harry's hands began to roam lower, Y/N gently pulled away, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of desire and hesitation. "Harry," she whispered, her voice breathless, "maybe we should slow down."

He looked into her eyes, understanding dawning on his own. He nodded, a tender smile gracing his lips. "Of course," he murmured, his thumb gently tracing the outline of her lips. "Whatever you want."

The tension in the room shifted, morphing from fiery passion to a gentle intimacy. They stood there for a moment, their foreheads resting against each other, breathing in unison. The unspoken understanding between them deepened, a silent promise of a night filled with love and tenderness, a night where they could explore each other's souls as well as their bodies.

"I'll run a shower for you like you want," he offered, his voice barely a whisper, a gesture of care and intimacy.

Y/N nodded, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of shyness and excitement. The anticipation hung in the air, thick and sweet.

Harry led her to his bathroom, turning on the shower and adjusting the water temperature to her liking. He laid out a fluffy towel and a set of his clean clothes on the counter, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Clothes on the counter for you, try 'em on," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And if I'm allowed, I'll help you take 'em off."

Y/N laughed softly, her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue. "We'll see," she teased, her eyes locking with his, the air between them crackling with electricity. The night was young, and the possibilities were endless.

She's takin' pictures in the mirror Oh my God, her skin's so clear Tell her, "Bring that over here" You need a seat? I'll volunteer Now she's smilin' ear to ear She's the headlights, I'm the deer

A warm glow from the bathroom light spilled into the hallway, illuminating Y/N as she emerged, wrapped in a towel. Her damp hair curled around her shoulders, her skin luminous in the soft light.

Harry's breath caught in his throat, marveling at her natural beauty. He longed to reach out and touch her, to trace the delicate curve of her skin with his fingertips.

But more than that, Oh, I just wanna get her off, he thought, the primal urge surging through him like a tidal wave.

Y/N caught his gaze in the mirror, a sultry smile playing on her lips. She let the towel drop, revealing her silhouette against the soft glow. "What do you think?" she purred, her voice husky with invitation.

Harry's eyes darkened with desire. "Come over here," he commanded, his voice low . He patted the edge of the bed, a silent invitation for her to join him.

Y/N walked towards him, her movements slow and deliberate, each step a tantalizing promise. She perched on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving his.

"Need a seat?" Harry offered, his voice thick with anticipation. "I'll volunteer."

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken desire. Y/N's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "I think I'd rather have you."

Harry's smile widened, a predator's gleam in his eyes. "And you shall," he murmured, his hand reaching out to caress the side of her face.

Their eyes met, and in that moment, all pretense vanished. The air crackled with electricity, their connection undeniable. Y/N was the headlights, blinding him with her beauty and allure. And Harry was the deer, caught in her irresistible pull, ready to surrender to the passion that consumed them both.

I've said it all before, but I'll say it again I'm interested in more than just bein' your friend I don't wanna break it, just want it to bend Do you know how to bend?

"I've said it all before in other words, but I'll say it again," Harry began, his voice low and husky, "I'm interested in more than just being your friend."

His eyes searched hers, a hint of vulnerability flickering beneath the desire. "I don't want to break what we have," he continued, his hand cupping her cheek. "I just want it to bend, to evolve into something more."

He paused, his gaze unwavering. "Do you know how to bend?" he asked, his voice a soft whisper.

Y/N's heart fluttered in her chest. She knew exactly what he meant. The question wasn't just about physical intimacy; it was about their relationship, their connection, their willingness to take a leap of faith together.

A soft smile bloomed on Y/N's lips, her eyes filled with a warmth that mirrored his own. "I think I do," she whispered back, her voice barely audible.

With a shared look of understanding, their lips met once again, their kiss deeper and more passionate this time. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken truths and a mutual desire to explore the uncharted territory of their relationship.

Harry's arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as their bodies melted together. Their kiss was a symphony of longing and desire, a dance of lips and tongues that ignited a fire within them both.

Time seemed to slow down as they explored each other's mouths, savoring the taste of forbidden fruit. Harry's hands roamed over Y/N's back, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

Y/N tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as their kiss deepened. She felt a sense of liberation, a freedom to express the emotions she had held back for so long.

He knew it was just a hunch, but as he held her in his arms and had her taste dancing on his tongue, he knew just one thing; she is the one.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harrystyles #harry imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles series #famous!harry

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renegadeguild · 9 months ago

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Edible Book Day 2024

the appetizers

A Commonplace Snack by Daemonluna

A collection of tropes and other ephemera, rendered in nori and rice paper. Sewn with a glass sweet potato noodle, ornamented with cilantro and lime.

This is how we roll (bamboo slips) by anonymous

This is the first book I have made since joining Renegade. I didn't think I'd get to make books and eat them too.

The (Not Actually) Matzah Plague Board Book by Noodle and Noodle's Auntie

10 Plagues by Noodle and Noodle's Auntie. Illustration by Noodle and Noodle's Auntie. Writing and Binding by Noodle. Materials: Gluten Free Matzo Substitute, fruit roll ups, fruit by the foot, sour belts, licorice, fruit rolls, sour sticks, cumin, water.

a fluffy breaduation by Sandy Kitty Bindery

i do not regret anything... except maybe the dentist bills ;)

Pancake Scroll by Zhalfirin

This was a lot easier than I had anticipated. A bit bland because I wasn't sure what I'd do the painting with and therefore didn't season the batter. It goes really well with a side of salmon and soy sauce though.

the mains

the iron chef secret ingredient was lasers by Lark

lasers are friends not food.

6/10, at least I chose turkey this year.

The Count of Monte Cristo by Thunder (Dragon's Thunder Press)

This was my first book bind ever. The case is French toast. The 2 signatures are each made of 3 omelet folios, and they're sewn with mozzarella string cheese strands. The end pages are each a slice of prosciutto, and they're pasted in with raspberry fruit syrup. Finally, the titling was done with black icing.

Sandwiches (And Books) Are Beautiful by Velvetwastaken

The ‘book’ ultimately failed to be readable as such due to a betrayal by the onion binding. But it tasted amazing, and thus I think still encapsulated the spirit of edible book day: good books are meant to be devoured.

and of course… … the desserts!

Mistakes were Marbled by anonymous

I baked a strawberry cake with buttercream icing. The buttercream set a bit too quickly for the marbled effect to work, and attempts to fix it caused structural damage, resulting in ... this. I would like half-points for retaining good flavor, despite appearances.

Brandy Snaps by Lottie

Brandy snaps for the pages, strawberry laces for thread. Complete with two weaver’s knots to tie the strawberry laces together

Book Cookies by six

Sadly not fully functional books - the cases are rigid sugar cookies baked into various open forms. The pages are edible wafer paper marked up here and there w/ an edible ink pen and the frosting quite tasty! Experimented with two different sizes and various page configurations. Fed some of them to various Renegade members. There were no fatalities.

Titles are overrated by Zhalfirin

I'm still baffled this turned out the way it did.

It's a delicious little baumkuchen chonker (app. A6 in size and about 6cm thick) cased in chocolate powdered marzipan.

Don't forget to vote for your favorite! And check out last year's winners here.

#edible book day #fanbinding #bookbinding #renegade guild #renegade events

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alexanderwales · 5 months ago

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I think that the first time I noticed an established company spicing up their product line was with Mountain Dew Code Red. I was in 9th grade (around 14 years old) and me and my friends went wild for it. Then they came out with Mountain Dew Livewire as a limited edition flavor for the summer, and I thought "they can't keep getting away with this", and then immediately bought some. It was a mainstay of our D&D nights.

To some extent, I think brands doing these weird things is just novelty injection, attempting to get some market share back. Most of the combinations won't last, since they're just not good enough, but people will see these variants in the store, and they'll say "hot damn, what's that like, I have to try it".

To a lesser extent, I'll claim that this has some element of postmodernism. There's something of parody and pastiche, a way that Reese's Puffs stuffed Reese's Cups are self-referential in concept if not in flavor.

Anyway, I was at the gas station, and came across this:

Is this not a perfect encapsulation of the modern consumer era? Is this not art? Don't you look at this and think "yes, this is the end of history, there is no further evolution past this point, only remixes of remixes, brands copulating with each other and giving birth to transient products that will fly off the shelves and then be forgotten fifteen minutes later".

I think the thing that got me most, as I stood there in the store staring at this freshly-stocked bag of onion (flavored) rings was that there's no actual ramen pictured, only the cup that ramen comes in, ramen signified by a familiar piece of styrofoam.

I felt an almost civic duty to buy them. I haven't eaten them yet, but whether they're good or not is sort of beside the point.

#marketing #funyuns #the elusive funyuns tag

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dtfpeta · 1 year ago

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Domesticity with Price...

(a/n: yes I want to make my lover a home cooked meal. yes I want him to wrap his arms around me while I cook. also I was this close to putting nsfw but I may just make a part two)

tags: husband!price, fluff, mentions of pregnancy, f!reader

Word Count: 1.8k __________

Price who comes home to his doting wife standing in front of the stove. A roaring pot of boiling water being salted by your delicate hands which form a harsh pinch on the granules before releasing them into the porcelain dish.

He watches from the door as you slowly canter your hips, humming along to the soft melody of Al Green from your distant record player. His cheeks contort with a smile when he hears your abysmal attempt to recall the lyrics. Startling you out of your unaware serenade when his hands catch in the fabric of your dress to wrap around your waist.

"Smells good." He comments regarding the dish. His face is buried in the side of your neck, breathing in the scent of garlic, rosemary, and other spices that coat the house in its aroma. Your own fragrance of vanilla overwhelms his senses as he sighs into the crook of your neck.

"It's not nice to sneak up on someone like that..." You chastise, knowing the irony that lies in your statement being as stealth is not something your husband is unaccustomed to. "Could've burned myself." You add, half-heartedly scolding and rolling your eyes as his arms tighten their purchase on your hips.

On the stove lies a pot boiling with its now added component of rigatoni. To its side is a sizzling pan that has been providing the house with its encapsulating smell. John eyes the skillet. The melted butter works to caramelize the now translucent onions coated in sparse flakes of red pepper and rosemary. A wooden spatula wielded in your hand stirs the minced garlic cloves, doing your best to prevent their quick to burn nature.

Price loves your cooking and you love to cook for him. Seeing as his face melts into bliss when he tastes what magic you have cast on something as simple as a chicken pot pie. Or the way his eyes bulge when you reveal that a dish he has been scarfing down like a starved dog over the past several months contains mushrooms.

Ever since that day, he has not once argued about an ingredient in your cooking. Even as he eyes the tomato sauce being added to the pan, knowing he is going to suffer a severe case of heartburn but almost welcoming it, as he knows it will accompany an array of flavors he will be holding up his plate for more of.

"M'sorry love." He relishes. "Been looking forward to this all day. N' watching you from the door just made me miss ya' even more."

You scoff at his cheesy comment, placing your left hand to rest on his forearm that is draped around you as your right stirs at the still hard noodles.

You lay your utensil down and lean back into his embrace. Closing your eyes as you feel your bodies link together like a puzzle. One piece being a head taller than the other, but fitting together nonetheless. You sway with your husband to the tempo of the song playing in the background. His body is warm against your back, being stripped of his tactical gear and left in a black cotton shirt tucked into the waist of his same toned cargo pants, the legs of which are folded above his combat boots.

"How was work?" You ask, eyes still closed and body entangled in him. He regards your question with a low hum, feet lightly stepping side to side.

"Hm, the usual. Told some of the boys we could treat em' to dinner sometime. Be nice to get together, maybe show you off a lil'?"

He lightly pinches at your sides while pulling you closer to him. The scruff of his beard dances against your skin as he attacks your neck in quickly scattered kisses.

"John!" You laugh while attempting to distance yourself from his assault. Only to be swiftly turned around where you find his blue eyes smiling fondly at you. The warm tinted light from a nearby lamp casts soft shadows on the crows feet that crinkle near his eyes. The edges of his smile lines sharpening the more he beams at you.

There's not a place on Earth he would rather be.

For the longest, he distanced himself from love. Only finding that unachievable compromises would be asked of him, and due to his work, he was never able to fulfill those wishes. It only put a strain on his and his partners' relationship. He learned to deal with the lack of intimate companionship over the years. Just having the bond of his brothers in arms till he would return to his empty flat and scrounge up whatever microwaveable dish hadn't gone freezer burnt or remnants of leftovers left in his barren refrigerator. Until he met someone he could incorporate into the unpredictable schedule of his life.

The first time you cooked for him he was floored. Joking about how he'd have to hire you as his personal chef and saying how he could only dream of coming home to this every week. You had brought the ingredients to his apartment, insisting that you would treat him to a hot meal if he helped you, which he gladly agreed to. He stood slicing carrots and celery while you stirred a pot of chicken stock, placing sprigs of thyme and bay leaves into the broth as the chicken roasted in the oven, soon to be shredded and added to the pot. Said pot being three times bigger than your head.

"You trying to feed the whole squadron?" He'd teased. To which you only responded with a light snicker, knowing that in making such a large portion would provide him with leftovers for the rest of the week-and then some.

Several years later you now stood in your shared home, a simple wedding band adorning the both of you two's hands. Price's socks litter the shared space until you have to reprimand him to pick them up. Him responding with his own accusations of how you frequently leave your bra on the couch as well as your adversity to keep your hair ties in one place. What can you say, it's just more convenient when they're around the house.

The two of you's cleaning habits aren't the only thing that could use work though. The decorations are an obvious clash of one person who enhances the space with homely, comforting pieces, and another who has a hard time letting go of secondhand artifacts. And after Price's constant defense of his 'live laugh love' banner hanging on the wall of the kitchen, you began to give in to the cliché relic.

A more than familiar tune begins to play from the record player.

"Oh my God" Price's teeth shine through his grin as he picks up on the melody as well. It's the song you shared your first dance together to.

His coordinated hands move to your hips, your own responding by wrapping around his neck. You gaze up at him. The quickening of your heart makes its frequent appearance as he looks down at you. The butterflies you feel every time you look at him have yet to diminish their strength over the years. Even as you heard stories of the dreaded period following the honeymoon phase where couples do nothing but bicker, your heart remained the same.

The only thing you can focus on is his hickory-toned voice humming to the lyrics of the track. The vibration rumbles through his chest, making its way to your ear resting upon him. He sways with your body against his until you are replicating the dance from that night. Since that night he has always made it apparent you were his first priority. He protects and serves you, as you have brought a peace to his life he didn't think was possible.

"Y'know on my way home," he began "saw this woman with her kid. Maybe 5 years old. He was sitting on a bench while she was on the ground tying his shoe. He was swinging his leg, reading some comic book to her. Poor lasses feet barely touched the ground!" He lets out a breathy laugh before pausing for a moment. "Just got me thinking."

"About?"

"Bein' a dad." He stated, kissing the temple of your face. "Making you a mum."

You smiled into his chest. John knew you wanted kids, and he did too. The time just never found itself convenient. And even now there are uncertainties, but the knowledge you have that John would be an excellent father left you planting seedlings of the idea in his head when you had the chance. Passing by a pair of cute baby shoes in the store. The ring of adolescent laughter when you'd visit the aquarium. Or even a dress you would buy, waiting for your husband to compliment it before mentioning the garment worked as a maternity piece too.

Something had been pulling at his paternal strings lately, however. He yearned to fill the house with the both of your makings. Leaving your marks in its foundation. Whether that be with the rug you both haggled for at the flea market. The broken spring of your living room couch, product of an intense wrestling match between you two. (In which both parties were considered victorious by the end.) Or the poolhouse-toned blue paint that made its acquaintance on the crown molding of your bedroom wall. (Also caused by some spout of play fighting or whatever attempt Price had to get his hands on you.)

You leaned back to search his face, only finding a look of great fondness pulling at his features. Your palms came to cradle the sides of his face before a smile stretched on your own.

"Yeah. I think I'd like that." You brought his lips to yours, embracing him in a tender touch as you laughed into the kiss. Your hold on one another tightened. Knowing that Price was ready to take such a giant step now made you giddy as you imagined him holding his future child, playing make-believe with them, and cleaning up their bumps and bruises from playing in the yard.

"Can't believe you're saying yes to a baby before a dog, John." You both laughed before you turned your head at the smell of burnt garlic.

"Shit!" You quickly grabbed a wooden spoon to stir at the red mixture before turning the stove off.

"Don't tell me you lost your touch already, sweetheart?"

"You were distracting me." You declare, pointing your spatula at the towering man. "Just get the bowls from the cabinet and set the table, yeah?"

"Of course, hun." He mocked.

You glared a burning look into the back of his before he did as instructed, your temper cooling as you poured the pot of soft noodles into a strainer.

You and John were able to turn a house into your home. Soon the floor and walls would be sheathed in memories of your family. One of the first being your dinner of a burnt tomato rigatoni pasta.

#call of duty #john price #captain price x reader #price x reader #john price x reader #price mw2

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