#I absolutely need to know what that dynamic was like

[trashytracktales]

being on your profile while ovulating IS NOT GOOD. NOT GOOD.

btw i completely agree with youuuu on lando being both a tease and a softdom at the same time !!! and can we talk about how he LOVES giving instructions and PRAISE when things go the way he wants???? he’d be flooding you with “good girl” all over. i’m just sure of it. he does it all the time. and validation??? he wants to be recognized!!! he wants to be praised. And the “slow and hard” from the youtube video with AngryGinge and Fifa !!! he just loves to voice out what he wants and get it!!

thank you for coming to my ted talk my god someone pls shut me up. please.

🎀 OH, YES GOOD. YOU'RE JUST A GIRL 🎀

Don’t even get me started on slow and hard, that phrase has lived rent-free in my brain for months now. I’ll be sitting in complete silence, minding my own business, only to randomly hear it echoing in the back of my head in the middle of the day. I’m haunted.

But yes, let's talk about how perfectly he fits into that dynamic. I can see Lando's eyes flickering with pride every time you do exactly what he asks, like your obedience is his personal victory. And the way he’d also need validation? GUYS! It’s not optional. He’d absolutely crave hearing you gasp his name, telling him how good he makes you feel (tbf, who wouldn't?) But if you don’t? Well, there’s that teasing streak again — he’s pausing, making you beg for him to continue, just so he can remind you who’s in charge. The audacity smh ✋🏻😒

At the same time, I feel like with Lando, giving instructions isn’t just about control, though. He wants to guide you, praise you, own every little reaction. And you just know that after completely wrecking you, he’d wear the most self-satisfied grin, pulling you into his chest like, I told you I’d make you feel good, didn’t I?

*sigh* Lando... when I catch you, Lando...

Someone should shut us both up at this point (they can't 😛).

[flwrkid14]

Sleeping beauty!Tim au but make it angsty

Red Robin gets hit with a spell that makes him sleep and no one is able to wake him up. The wizard villain of the week disappeared after hitting Tim with it and only by the grace of God and Red Hood's speed was he caught before he tumbled off the damn roof.

The batfam think it'll be an easy fix, Bruce gets Zatanna to show up... Except...

Bruce: Why did it not work?

Zatanna: it's one of those fickle sleep spells that can only be broken by true love's kiss. Luckily, it doesn't have to be a romantic kiss or one on the lips, as long as it's from someone who truly loves Red Robin.

Bruce: So why is he not awake?

Zatanna: The fickle thing about this particular spell is that for it to break, Red Robin has to believe that the person who kissed him truly loves him.

Cue all the angst and heartbreak and self reflection as the batfam realize, after each of them tries to wake Tim, that their brother genuinely thinks they don't love him.

Eventually it's Kon who manages to wake Tim up with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

In the aftermath, Tim doesn't know how to deal with the way the batfam are looking at him like he broke their hearts or the way Bruce looks uncomfortably on the verge of tears.

Thank you so much for the ask!!—this is such a deliciously angsty concept, and I can’t get over how much it says about the Batfamily and their emotional blind spots.

It’s so painfully them, isn’t it? The Batfamily, who love so fiercely but are absolutely terrible at showing it in ways that matter. They’re all so busy with their missions, their duty, their endless fight to keep Gotham and each other safe, that they don’t stop to think about how their love is perceived. They assume it’s obvious in the way they watch each other’s backs or show up when it counts. But Tim? Tim’s spent so long in the shadows, convincing himself he’s just a cog in the machine, that he doesn’t see any of that as love.

And now they’re standing there, one by one, trying and failing to wake him up. It’s not just frustrating—it’s devastating. Because the truth they’ve all been avoiding is staring them in the face: Tim doesn’t believe they love him. And maybe, deep down, they know why. Every harsh word, every time they brushed him off because there was a bigger crisis, every moment they assumed Tim was fine because he didn’t say otherwise—it’s all coming back to haunt them now.

Jason probably storms off first, pretending it doesn’t bother him, but the guilt is eating him alive. Dick, who prides himself on being the emotional glue of the family, is visibly shaken—because how could he miss this? How could he fail Tim like this? And Bruce, oh, Bruce—he’s silent, but you can see the way his hands tremble, the way his jaw tightens. He’s spent years thinking his actions spoke louder than words, and now he’s realizing he might’ve been wrong.

And when Kon finally wakes Tim up? It’s not just a relief—it’s a wake-up call. Kon, who loves Tim so plainly and without hesitation, didn’t have to fight through layers of doubt or miscommunication. His love was clear, and Tim believed it without question. The Batfamily can’t say the same, and it hurts.

But what really gets me is the aftermath. Tim, sitting there, bewildered and uncomfortable as the Batfamily stares at him with those shattered, guilty expressions. To him, it doesn’t make sense—he’s fine, the mission’s done, so why are they acting like he’s the one who needs fixing? And when Bruce finally asks, voice quiet and cracking, “Why didn’t you believe us?” Tim doesn’t know how to answer. Because in his mind, it wasn’t a question of love—it was a question of worth.

It’s such a raw, painful exploration of the Batfamily’s dynamic. They love each other deeply, but they’re so bad at saying it, at showing it in ways that the other person can feel. And Tim? Tim’s just been waiting, quietly, for proof he didn’t think would ever come.

This is such a beautifully tragic setup, and I love how it forces them all to face what they’ve been avoiding. If you—or anyone—writes this, I would absolutely love to read it!! The emotional fallout alone would be worth its weight in tears!

[grimaldiapologist]

Hi, my freeranged and appropriately enriched audience. I need to talk about something real big bad and I think I've already ended all of my friendships for this reason, so I'm doing it here instead.

This scene? After Colosseum?

There's so many things going on in this scene, and for the love of everything that is holy, in order to talk about any of it, I've clipped Macrinus out of the picture because he doesn't exist.

I'll start with the fact that, while these two are described as somewhat pathologically paranoid, this is the first day we see them living through that gives them significant reason to be worried. Most days, they seem to coast by being both terminally naïve and endlessly isolationist in terms of their company, focusing solely on each other and themselves, particularly their hedonistic pursuits, while assuming that everybody they surround themselves with loves them, for whatever reason. Everything is going great for them as far as they're perceiving it. They don't know the audiences are not cheering for them - they take every cheer as if it was aimed at them. Presenting Acacius at the Colosseum for the first day of the games? They receive no applause beyond what the audience is already dishing out upon their introductions. But producing Marcus Acacius has the audience heated, and these two somehow think that's for them. They're idiots. Morons. They're so stuck in their own delusions of grandeur that yes, while they do recognise they're in Rome and Roman emperors have a terrible tendency to catch a blade, they don't seem to be actually living that reality at all.

What we know from the script is, however, that they have never truly known stability or safety: his whole life, Geta has been shielding Caracalla from their father's explosive anger. Caracalla, presumably, has witnessed this if nothing else, though I'm curious about that golden tooth within this context. I'm sure he's caught some inbetween there, too, because Geta can only afford so much shield from a grown man. And they've never had any protection from any of that. Nobody would stand up to an emperor to protect a prince; they were his rightful property. He could do with his boys whatever he pleased, and Geta's sole duty has been, it seems, not to survive, but ensure that his brother does. His pain has never mattered. His rights, needs, wants, wishes have never mattered. Caracalla's have.

I'm sure they used to be at each other's throats like the wolf pups that they are when they were younger. But what you can see with them in their early adulthood is that this is something that does not apply anymore. They'll hurt anybody else, particularly anyone they perceive as hostile to them, and most often it's done just for fun and pleasure. This makes Caracalla's fetish for watching violence particularly interesting - what with the complex relationship kinks and fetishes can often have with prior trauma, feelings of powerlessness, and attempts to regain control - but that's for a wholly different meta there. What I'm getting at is that it's always others they inflict cruelty upon, and enjoy, but never each other; there is an absolute dynamic between them, it's them against the world, them for one another. Geta's first duty is to protect Caracalla, and Caracalla trusts him implicitly. At least before this scene.

While script!Geta has less patience for his brother than Quinn's Geta does, there is never any doubt there who and what his priority is. Caracalla comes first to him. So, it's safe to say that with Dondus screaming, when he flings his water in Caracalla's face, it's never with the intent of hitting him. I have sensory issues and I'll be the first to admit I've thrown things when my processing threshold is violently crossed and it's something you just don't second-guess, like someone hitting your knee joint with a hammer. But regardless of intent, the consequences are so very interesting. And I'm sure Caracalla, even, knows that this wasn't intentional. Dear gods though, look at his reaction.

This is the face of someone telling you you have crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed.

And, for the sake of my sanity, I need to make sure everybody understands that Caracalla's way to emphasise just how much things have broken here is to say absolutely nothing, leave the room, and go cry under a table. Terrifying. But I digress; what is terrifying is Geta, after this has happened.

This is the face of a man who has crossed a boundary of his own, and it has quite little to do with the previous. Yes, Caracalla is angry at him, and there will be consequences in some form. Again, for now, the consequences are that he's chosen to become inconsolable and hide under furniture, likely much as he did when their father had his rages. But Geta, for the first time in his life, broke out of his role of a protector, and the one to be beaten.

He's realised that Caracalla is not untouchable. And for ages, he doesn't move, because his whole world has shaken here; and what he does then to justify his actions is blame his brother for them. Caracalla did absolutely nothing to earn what he did to him, but it's now his fault, for being so unstable. A liability. How could Caracalla make him do this to him, truly.

This evening, Geta's been brought face to face with his reality: he is not loved. He is not untouchable. While he can mandate the word of gods, he is not, himself, regarded as a god. Not like he deserves. Not like he should be. He's suffered so much - but he is a great man, and he knows this. He's not stupid, and he's a conqueror, albeit from his comfortable seat at home. But he deserves better.

And what, pray, is standing in the way? What is holding him back? His brother is. Caracalla, who is always embarrassing him. Who is his first and last responsibility each day and each night, who needs him to watch his every move, to keep him safe not only from the world but from himself and his own instability, his insanity, his unpredictable actions. Without Caracalla, Geta could be focusing on being an emperor. He could be achieving so much more than he is, if he wasn't his brother's constant, eternal keeper, his babysitter, his court jester. And he deserves more, doesn't he? He deserves to be remembered.

So, let Macrinus (who doesn't exist as you can see from the screenshots) handle Caracalla this time. Geta has an empire to think of.

And this, this is what interests me about this scene more than anything. For Caracalla's part, things seem at a glance much more benign, though no less broken: the one thing he took as certain as air has fallen apart - that his brother would always stand for him first, and would never lay a finger on him to hurt him. His brother, who bled for him, protected him from their father, and has ever since looked after him, elevated him to the highest status, aside from some... minor symptoms of hubris, of course. But while all of this hurts him, deeply, fundamentally, it isn't enough to make him immediately see Geta as his enemy.

And I can't stop asking - should he? Should he now regard Geta as his enemy? His whole world is collapsing. It's from this very moment onwards (yes, this one, specifically) that he begins to show symptoms of acute psychosis: delusions, paranoia, severe lapses in reality, memory, and continuity. He doesn't look like he sleeps either, but of course, other factors come into play with that part. (And gods know I don't blame him for that.)

Geta was his foundation, his bedrock. They were in this together, whatever happened. Yes, they bicker, but they've always known how that goes: Geta's patience is endless with Caracalla, and Caracalla's thirst for violence is not turned towards him, even at its worst. Geta has no issues turning his back to Caracalla in the state that he is while the man is wielding a sword and doing god knows what with it in the background. Not for one second does Geta flinch when coming between Caracalla, his sword, and a man he's already condemned to die, because Caracalla would never harm him, either.

But after this? After the first blow, however small? What then?

I'm just asking questions here. This could lead onto the next subject - the way Caracalla's whole demeanor changes when he inflicts the first wound on his brother and finds that he bleeds just the same - but I'm keeping that to me for now.

[comicaurora]

hi red!! just listened to the newest episode of the ospod and i have one question: did you and magenta enjoy sonic three??

TREMENDOUSLY

(spoilers below)

Maria playing a soft acoustic cover of Live And Learn on the guitar was Incredible

We both lost it when Sonic looked directly at the camera and quoted "talk about a low-budget flight!" word for word

Almost every Sonic vs Shadow scene in the trailer was from the very first action scene in the movie, which was absolutely the way to do it. They didn't spoil anything important AND they didn't drag out the opener.

That first action scene was KILLER. They hit every single beat they needed to establish exactly who Shadow was.

The pacing overall was fantastic. When Blue and I watched sonic 1 and 2, we concluded that sonic 2 had More Fun Stuff, but sonic 1 was far more tightly paced. I think sonic 3 got back to the pacing of sonic 1 - not an ounce of fat on there.

CHAO GARDEN TOURIST TRAP

Magenta called the movie cowards for not letting the GUN soldier actually shoot Maria

Extremely elegant way to take Tom and the ancillary humans out of commission and motivate Sonic to have his obligatory "I must go alone and Take Vengeance" darkest hour, BUT I really respected how they let Knuckles choose to back off and trust him, even if narratively we know Sonic is making the wrong choice. My boy Knux got a shockingly good showing this movie, considering all he really had to do was get worf'd to prove how badass Shadow is. They do some careful work making sure he still feels like a powerhouse even though he's outclassed by both super hedgehogs.

Making Shadow's motivation in this movie raw, fresh, suicidal grief was absolutely the right call, because that makes this whole Destroy The Earth thing the equivalent of an extremely understandable but short-lived temper tantrum caused by "from my POV my best friend died in my arms like YESTERDAY" and that means it feels like he could conceivably be talked out of with a little empathy and compassion, which is exactly what Sonic gives him, after the COOLEST FUCKING FIGHT SCENE I'VE EVER SEEN

This Sonic is cleanly growing from a good-hearted kid into exactly the kind of relentlessly compassionate paragon hero they're portraying him as in the IDW comics and it is Rad As Hell

And on the flip side, making Gerald's villain motivation slow and calculated and locked in over the course of fifty deliberate years was a very clever way to convince us that Shadow just needed kindness and a good example, but Gerald had made his choice and could absolutely not be redeemed.

"You're no Maria" is cold as ice and I'm still thinking about it days later

everyone's acting like Robotnik's dead but my man was wearing a nanotech suit that could turn into anything like if they want him back he'll be back

excited for Shadow to just Turn Up at some point in the future during a risky fight scene and for literally only Sonic to be happy to see him, As Their Dynamic Should Be

Magenta really likes Metal Sonic as a character so hopefully he's not just relegated to Interchangeable Army Of Minions status forever

A M Y

I predict that in Sonic 4 we will get Silver as the main first-half-of-the-movie misled villain and Shadow WILL reintroduce himself into the plot by kicking Silver in the back of the head and I WILL lose my mind

[bioethicists]

Do you have any thoughts on the idea of enablers? I'm struggling to find anything online analyzing the idea, rather than just chastising people for like, giving an alcoholic loved one money.

i do! i wrote a course paper about it once lol. gonna bullet point my thoughts for ease

first of all, i want to both point out that the concepts of enabling/codependency are deeply shitty + originate from toxic, abstinence-only spaces-- that being said, there is absolutely a painful dynamic that can crop up in relationships with ppl who are chaotically using which sometimes takes the form of: giving more than you can/want to give without receiving anything in return, burning yourself out trying to 'save' someone, breaking your own boundaries for another person, doing whatever another person asks without question even when doing that thing makes you feel bad, + more

personally i believe that codependency + by extension, "enabling", has caught on due to the total lack of infrastructure or public resources for ppl in chaotic use, alongside prohibition which tells us that all 'illicit' drug use is inherently bad. obsession with individual responsibility ensures that we treat ppl in chaotic use as irresponsible (but perhaps Sick, Helpless) ppl who need to Choose to Get Better (which will happen if they Hit Rock Bottom). except rock bottom doesn't usually produce healing + with today's toxic drug supply, they're liable to fucking die on the way down.

as someone who has loved + does love many ppl who use drugs to various degrees of danger + someone who absolutely fit(s) the definition of a "codependent" or "enabler" in many ways (sometimes proudly, sometimes in ways i want to change): what matters is, are you breaking your own boundaries for this person? are you giving them things then resenting them when they don't receive them in the way you expected (e.g paying for rehab, then they leave)? are you refusing to hold them accountable for mistreating you bcuz they 'can't help it' or 'that's not them; it's the drugs'? are you expending massive amounts of resources you don't have on someone who doesn't want those resources? are you acquiescing to every request for resources, even when those requests are clearly shortsighted or unfair? do you have a vision of how your loved one Should live + are you harming yourself trying to actualize it?

some examples of boundaries i have which help with this, some of which might be considered enabling lol: i won't give money if i expect it back; if i give you money, i've already accepted i may never see it again. i won't use a substance with someone if they have a recent history of using it chaotically. i won't offer a substance to someone much younger than me if i know that it isn't already part of their regular substance patterns. i probably won't offer a substance with high dependency potential to someone if i know that it isn't already part of their regular substance patterns. i will make requests for my loved ones to be a certain level of sober at certain key moments (e.g driving me somewhere, an event, to be emotionally present with me).

there are a lot more + i have a lot more to say abt this + have been considering writing an essay abt this actually but i hope this helps!

[soft-pine]

@angelsdean: #i think cas is good at cutting thru the bullshit and just saying things succinctly (and often bluntly)#and i think he's a good listener and is also someone dean himself actually chooses to open up to#and often WANTS to talk to (unlike w/ sam)#but yea he's not giving dean a therapy session. cas is not the wise all-knowing master of emotion#it's all actually very new to him! he's still getting the hang of human stuff!#and sam. well. he's mr. projection and deflection boy#and pretty bad at his own emotional processing#and should in no way be giving out advice let alone playing Perfect Therapist (and often Queer Expert) Sam#like obvs ppl can write what they want forever and do as they please in fanworks#but when ppl conflate this specific tropey depiction of them w/ canon it gets annoying#bc they very much are not like that in canon

@ilarual: #they are all deeply traumatized people with a shit ton of issues#and they all NEED the space and security to be able to heal and grow#but that doesn't mean that ANY of them are equipped to be each other's live-in therapist#Cas is more emotionally intelligent than he gives himself credit for but he's not a particularly verbose communicator#likewise while Dean is absolutely a safe person for Cas to open up to it's not his responsibility to be Cas's therapist#in fact your partner is probably the absolute WORST person to try to play informal therapist#and the less said about Sam in the therapizing your family conversation the better

@shallowseeker: #cuts through bullshit#also good at communicating without fluff which is what dean tends to appreciate#a lack of artifice

@indistarlight: #he's very blunt which helps dean as its the opposite of literary fictional reference word vomit mixed with vulnerability encased in bravado#but his biggest speeches are all literally when he thinks he'll be too dead to deal with the aftermath#he is very good at showing empathy and care when he's present tho! which i think dean appreciates despite how much it disarms him

@im-some-lionheart: #also Dean is canonically the one out of the three of them who most often initiates emotional conversations..#It don't mean Sam and Cas wouldn't ask him about his feelings but rather that it's most likely Dean's gonna ask THEM first#also what I love about dean and cas' heart to hearts is that it's almost always a variation of:#Cas: how are you#Dean: fan fucking tastic#cas: doubt#dean: ok I'm not fine I'm actually crumbling#cas: *offers support in the form of a killer one-liner or a shared moment of comfortable silence*#Top tier chef's kiss dynamic 👌🏻#which is why fics where they have long open and honest conversations about their feelings always take me out of the story#I'm sorry but it's not just that he would not say that (and he wouldn't)#it's that he wouldn't say ALL OF THAT. These are emotionally stunned and deeply traumatized “straight” (allegedly) Men#have you ever TRIED to talk to a man about his own emotions????#that entire conversation needs to be filled with short sentences tense silences and half said stuff

i think the confession made people forget cas is not really a consistent verbal communicator/processor.

i just dont know if like the verbose and florid speech he'd held in for years and finally spilled on his deathbed is like the best roadmap for how he'd communicate on a random wednesday....

[finchly-tintinnabulation]

- Foster Fail -

OCs: Parker Brown (baseline), Battle-Brother Mikhail (Dark Angel), Blood Claw Kári (Space Wolf). Brother-Sergeant Perseus (Ultramarine) and Battle-Brother Celeborn (Lamenter) are mentioned but don't appear yet

Tags: Space Marine Husbandry (Sentience), found family dynamics that will be elaborated on, fluffy self indulgent nonsense, Space Wolf is big doggy, gay ass space marines

This idea wormed its way into my brain after binge reading @kit-williams's Space Marine Husbandry stuff, though what I've written may not exactly be compliant with the established lore in terms of bonds. Idk I'm a silly guy who likes nontraditional found family,, ty to @daily-shenanigans784 for the beta and to my beloved Blood Angels fan for giving a seal of approval lol

The Chorus: @thisuserislilsilly

- - -

“I just don’t see myself taking on any Blood Angels in the future.” 

“Really?” The new case worker tipped her head to Parker, clutching her clipboard and giving him a bemused look over the cafe table.

“Don’t get me wrong, my friend has a beautiful Sanguinary flock with a dreadnought they absolutely adore, so I can see the appeal. It’s more of a lifestyle thing.” Licking his lips, he brushed the last crumbs of pastry from his fingers, crumpling up his napkin to discard on his empty plate.

“You say that like you don’t have a Lamenter roosting in your barn, Mr. Brown. Clearly you know how to keep ‘em.” She tittered. Speaking to another baseline was certainly a change of pace from Ankesh, the Salamander he’d corresponded with the last few years, but so far he had no complaints about Lorraine.

Parker scoffed. “Celeborn and Percy are a bonded pair, I had no say in the matter.” Well, that wasn’t entirely true, but it was hard to imagine life without the Lamenter these days.

“Oh, Perseus? Your Ultramarine?” Lorraine’s bleach blonde hair swished as she glanced down at her clipboard.

“Mhm.”

She peered over the top of her forms, expression quizzical as he took a final swig of his coffee. “I thought you and him were bonded.”

“Hm? Why’s that?” With a raised brow, he wiped his lips on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“Well, I’ve never seen a solitary marine follow a baseline without one before.” Her round eyes bored into him, seeking answers like she could drill them out with a stare. Okay, maybe there was something he could complain about. Way too much eye contact.

“Dunno about any of that, but Percy’s family, no matter how you slice it.” Shrugging, Parker tried to find a spot on Lorraine’s nose he could look at more comfortably.

“How long have you been…?”

“Seven years.” He stated before her inquisitive silence could stretch too long. “I’m 23, be 24 in the spring.”

Beaming, her round eyes grew even wider. “No wonder you’re the local loyalist foster, if you’ve been working with Astartes for so long.” 

“Working is a strong word.” Chuckling, Parker couldn’t help but be reminded of days crawling out his bedroom window only to be scruffed by a scowling Ultramarine. “Speaking of, you bring the file?” 

“Sure thing.” Flipping past what he assumed to be his foster record, Lorraine unclipped a few papers from the stack on her clipboard, passing them across the table as he pushed his glasses up his nose. 

In the interest of skimming the whole document, Parker removed the paperclip holding the stack together and picked out the important details. Battle-Brother Mikhail, Primaris, loyalist. His brow furrowed. Dark Angel. First-time foster. “...No brothers-in-arms with this one, Lori?”

“Nope! You said you wanted to take it easy for the holidays, so I figured you’d only want one on your hands.” Lorraine grinned, seemingly oblivious to the migraine already brewing.

Fostering the rough cases of loyalist Astartes was Parker’s bread and butter, and it was partially because he had gotten quite good at tuning into their needs. Loyalists might have seemed easier than Chaos marines or Renegades, but that was only on the surface, as they could become just as unruly and sullen. Potentially violent.

 A great many fosters that had gone through Pinkman Ranch, and the most common were those poorly adjusted to the second millennium, either through recent arrival or homes that couldn’t provide for their needs. An industrious and well behaved Ultramarine or a beautiful and artistic Blood Angel could very easily become agitated and restless with someone who expected an easy foray into the benefits of having a space marine in the household. His father had taught him that the hard way.

“You’ve worked with Dark Angels before, right?” The case worker piped up, snapping Parker out of his contemplation.

“Yup. A pair of them, last year.” He mused, remembering that they were… hard to motivate. For lack of a better word, space marines with hobbies often adjusted better to a time without the strife they were built for, giving them passions to pursue. Dark Angels ran on piety and persecution as their duties, which proved to be incredibly difficult to get past. “They aren’t exactly big talkers.”

“Which makes them perfect for a nice quiet vacation!” Lorraine forged ahead, nodding eagerly.

“Mhm.” Quiet was exactly what he was worried about. Years of familiarity had cracked Percy’s shell, Celeborn was forthcoming with his needs and had Percy to advocate, and Kári wore his emotions as plainly as wearing his armor. Without a battle-brother for support, to ease his way into a new worldview, fostering a Dark Angel could be tricky and delicate work.

“My only question is how you think your Space Wolf might interact with him.”

“Kári listens to his pack. He knows to back off.” The concern was how the foster would react to his squad, not the other way around. The Blood Claw could be rambunctious, but Parker worried how such an insular marine would warm up, especially if he was out of commission for a bit and unable to stand between them. However, that wasn’t something Lorraine needed to know about.

“Anything else you wanted to ask? I assume you already know how to contact the local base.”

Parker dragged a hand through his hair, staring down at the small photo of the Primaris attached to the document. Serious but slim face, dark hair, a proud but haunted look in his eye. Of course he could always decline, but… this was part of why he started fostering after all. Percy would always be there if things got out of hand. 

“Nope, I think we’re good to go.” He paperclipped the file back together and handed it back across the table to Lorraine. “I assume you’ll send him by tomorrow?”

-

In the cold grey light of early morning, frost covered grass crunched beneath boots and sabatons alike, padding along the fence of the property. For someone so big, Parker was continuously impressed by how quiet an enormous stack of muscle and armor like a space marine could move so quietly, the Dark Angel having fallen into step behind him. 

“Just so we understand each other, you’re here to adjust, so I only have one big rule. Stay on the property, don’t go running off into the woods.” Parker looked sidelong over the barbed wire at the dense thicket of blue spruce blanketing the mountainside. “Rocky Mountain National Park is pretty damn big, so there’s plenty of room for war bands and renegades and the like, but you can’t go running after them while I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you. Understood?”

Looking back at the marine, Parker waited for some indication of understanding, thankfully receiving a nod. 

“Great. You can run off and hunt once we’re done, though if you can’t stand being idle that long, there’s plenty to do around here.” He smiled at the impassable helmet, hoping the Astartes felt welcome behind it. Mikhail hadn’t said a word since the local base had dropped him off, but Parker had to admit to himself he didn’t expect much else. 

“Most of the profitable work is seasonal thanks to the livestock we keep, the sheep get sheared in the spring, and we harvest honey from the bees in summer and fall, but upkeep is year round. There’s also the chickens up by the house, but they’re more like pets, and we eat the eggs more than we sell them.” Meandering towards the barn, Parker chattered away, a soft pride in his chest as he talked about what had become the last few years of his life. 

It wasn’t long before he was intercepted, a behemoth in grey armor rising from where he’d been sitting amongst the flock of sheep and jogging over with a sharp toothed grin. 

“This our fresh blood, PB?” Kári crowded into Parker’s space as usual, grabbing the baseline by the underarms and scooping him up for a hug in greeting. Though the armor was cold in the winter air, his body glove and skin radiated heat, and without his helmet Parker had free rein to run his hand through the Space Wolf’s short auburn curls. 

Parker chuckled. “Be nice, there’s no need to call him that. Kári, this is Battle-Brother Mikhail. Mikhail, Blood Claw Kári.” Twisting in the affectionate marine’s grip, he turned to smile encouragingly at Mikhail, gesturing as best he could for introductions. 

“No need to keep your helmet on, cousin. Let me see that pretty face of yours.” The Space Wolf teased, expression wolfishly playful as he nosed Parker’s cheek, ruffling his hair with warm puffs of breath. 

“Be nice, I said.” Parker groused, righting his glasses as Kári’s nuzzling had knocked them askew. “You don’t need to if you don’t want to, Brother Mikhail.”

Silent through their exchange, Parker half expected the Dark Angel to ignore Kári, but to his surprise after a moment of stillness Mikhail reached up. With a hiss of a releasing seal, his helm was removed and magnetized to his hip. 

The printed black and white thumbnail image on his file did him no justice. Wavy black hair hung down to the man’s jaw, framing oddly wide green eyes and high cheekbones. He, much like Kári, had a look of youth almost uncharacteristic of the Adeptus Astartes, but with a pale face rather than the Space Wolf’s freckled and suntanned one. 

Kári whistled appreciatively. “Oh, you are pretty! Why don’t you waste some time with me tending the sheep?“ Parker was ready to scold him when Mikhail defied his expectations once again and looked shy. A blushing Astartes was truly a sight to behold, and the baseline had to consciously keep his mouth shut so as to not gape at him. 

“That which does not serve the Emperor’s will is not anything praiseworthy.” Mikhail muttered, voice soft but oddly robotic. Blinking, Parker stared at the Dark Angel for a long moment before covering his mouth with a hand, almost certain that laughing would be seen as disrespectful.

“Seeing as he isn’t here to impose that will, I wouldn’t concern yourself.” Tipping his head at the other marine, Kári spoke flippantly. Already pushing buttons. Mikhail’s brow furrowed into a frown. 

“What he means to say,” Parker quickly interjected, “Is that nobody can find your Emperor in our time. Humanity is not united under him like in yours, so… he’s not exactly leading anything here. At the moment.”

Jaw working, Mikhail’s lips twisted as he seemed to think for a long moment, perhaps coming up with a retort as he stared intently at the baseline. It was what Parker often feared working with loyalists; they only knew to be His weapons. However, there was no way of knowing what Mikhail thought, as he once again fell silent with a brief nod of understanding. 

“How about we head back to the house? Percy and Celeborn are still baking?” Uneasy but relieved for the time being, Parker steered the conversation away from the Astartes’s past (future?) and patted Kári’s gorget in a request to be put down that was quickly obliged. 

“Lead the way.” Kári pressed his nose to the baseline’s mousy brown hair one last time before letting him go, and Parker started the trek back to the farmhouse, the two space marines following behind like a pair of very large, armored ducklings. 

[feng-shui71]

soo since i love your content i wanna ask more ask's muhahaha>:D in all seriousness, how is Jordan's relationship with Chris (or the other S.T.A.R.S members in that case) like i figured that Chris wont be glad after finding out his traitor of an captain is married to his friend/comrade

Ohhh!!! I love asks like these yes yes

Formatted in headcanons because I didn’t feel like writing paragraphs, just thinking of it is giving me a headache. Includes every single S.T.A.R.S. member from Alpha and Bravo team, the rest is under the cut. The lesser known members don’t have a lot of information though and some of them are a bit short because I didn’t know what else to write.

ALPHA TEAM

Albert Wesker:

Not going to put much on these two and their dynamic since I can’t shut the fuck up about them but I’ll drop a few S.T.A.R.S. era tidbits.

Married, however nobody on the force knows except for Irons, Barry and Jordan’s twin, Jaiden. Irons is their employer so he’s obligated to know, and he’s not stupid he could see it. However with Barry, Jordan accidentally let it slip one time and had to make that man swear to secrecy. He regularly teases the two about it.

Guy does NOT play favourites at all which pisses Jordan off. He’s actually way harder on her than the rest of S.T.A.R.S. and expects the best from her, god forbid she hands in a report past the deadline because he’s going to be very pissed. Very firm believer in keeping work and personal life seperate.

When he’s stressed he likes to call her into his office, blinds shut and sunglasses taken off as he holds her. Face buried in the crook of her neck to try to ease the aching migraine that seeningly never goes away. Probably because you got 2 jobs bro.

Speaking of his office they fuck in there all the time sorry

Wesker initially never intended to harm Jordan during the mansion incident and originally was going to try to keep her away from his plans until they were carried out, taking her with him. This obviously failed and Jordan caught onto his true nature because of that one Umbrella researchers photo, confronting him in his lab. Chris was supposed to see those, to confront him, not her. It was foolish of him to bring her. To improvise, he shot her instead and was planning to bring her body with him, infecting her with Progenitor to ensure her safety + turn her into a superhuman like him. Unfortunately the surviving S.T.A.R.S. crew brought her with them so he couldn’t even do that. (Sorry if this bit is wonky, I’m still working on their Re1 lore)

Friendship scale is womp womp an 8/10. Wesker lies far too much to her and manipulates Jordan regularly, scale is nowhere near a 10/10 because of it. Don't get me wrong they have good chemistry and love eachother but y'neow, it's Wesker. No relationship with him is exempt from being toxic.

Chris Redfield:

They’re pretty close I think, she appreciates Chris’ rebellious spirit and honestly just sees a lot of her younger self in him. Chris thinks she’s cool, like an older sister or “girl next door” type and has no clue why a prude like Wesker is so close with her. Little does he know ..

He definitely pisses her off a ton though LMAO he’s so stupid.

I think sometimes it gets a little awkward because she’s like .. 11 years older than him. So some of the dumb shit he says goes over her head and some of the dumb shit she says makes him cringe a little. They get along nonetheless.

“You like Billie Holiday?”

“.. Oh, yeah, yeah sure I love him!”

“… Dude..”

Wesker ABSOLUTELY despises their relationship and does not like how close Chris is to her. He barely voices it, however a common thing he does is bring up negative things about Chris in hopes to deter her from interacting with him. Yeah, he’s controlling. Jordan does get weirded out if, say for example, he brings up a misogynistic remark that Chris said, but she gets over it after a day.

A lot of common interests, they both love Queen! I like to think that if either of them need a smoke they go to eachother since they’re both avid smokers. Smoked weed on the job one time and Wesker had to hose them both down because the office reeked of Alaskan Thunder Fuck.

I think after the Arklay Incident Chris was suspicious of Jordan because of her affiliation with Wesker however this skepticism dies down after he realizes she was also a victim of Wesker’s plans. (cough.. cough. shot.) Alongside this, Jordan vehemently denied knowing anything regarding Wesker’s double life and shared Chris’ intense feelings of resentment and hatred towards the man after Arklay. Chris is sympathetic of Jordan, she felt used and disgusted with herself considering how long she’d been with him, how much of it all was a lie? she fell in love with a facade, a fake constructed persona, hell, did he even love her? spends a lot of his time comforting her and keeping her company because of it.

This sympathy doesn’t last for long though, after Re4 and especially post-Re5 this guy is so sick of her ass for going back to Wesker time after time, he understands Jordan loves him to the point of it being unconditional, which is why she always runs back to him but come onnnn. Girl if you don’t get your ass back here I will smack the shit out of you. Their relationship is definitely strained at this point, tons of resentment between the two. I cover Chris’ feelings about this in this ask.

You guys got a friend where they have a toxic relationship and always go to you for advice but never listen? you tell them the exact same thing every time but don’t go through with it anyway? Yeah that’s Jordan to Chris. She’s the problem here.

"I miss him"

"Shut the fuck up"

They love eachother though.

Jordan thinks Re8 Chris is cute but you will never get this out of her ever especially since she feels guilty about Wesker’s death still. He is rolling over in that volcano everytime that thought crosses her mind. She will never act on this though, widowed Jordan is real.

Friendship scale sat at a 9/10 during Re1. Anything beyond Re4 is extremely strained and sits at a 6/10. Too much resentment.

Jill Valentine:

Uhmmm definitely not as close as Barry and Chris however they are friends, yeah. Her, Jordan and Rebecca stick together at RPD since they’re all women, they try to look out for eachother and talk to one another often. Jordan is definitely close to Jill than she is Rebecca though.

Jordan sees Jill as a bad ass little sister that needs to get her ass whooped sometimes, however Jill doesn’t make Jordan mad to the point of crashing out unlike someone. (Chris) It’s kind of just a mild annoyance like she’ll sigh really heavy if Jill does something stupid.

They definitely gossip a ton though, Jill pulls Jordan aside and rants about whatever is on her mind at the moment, whether it be a guy or something Chris did earlier that day. Literally world’s biggest haters god forbid you wear a terrible outfit around them they are pointing and laughing at you to the point of snorting and wheezing. Brad is a common victim.

She is definitely super sus of Jordan and Wesker and thinks they’re friends with benefits, interrogates Jordan on it regularly and asks her why she’s so close with the Captain. This is a mild accusation though I think Jordan gets flack regularly at the office because of her affiliation with Wesker, a common one is that she “slept to the top hence her position at S.T.A.R.S”

Uhhhmm besides that though I think their friendship is mainly confined to RPD, I don’t think they go out a ton besides the S.T.A.R.S. troupes occasional bar runs. I think either her or Annette would be Jordan’s girl best friends but i’m not sure !

Their friendship is pretty good! I'd say it's around a 7/10

Barry Burton:

These two have the cops from Superbad dynamic. Barry is the Seth Rogan cop and Jordan is the Bill Hader cop. You can't tell me Barry doesn't have the Seth Rogan laugh because he does I mean just look at him. (Jackie and Jordan have this exact same dynamic too)

Cue these two doing donuts in an empty parking lot in their cruiser.

God forbid you catch either of them hungry I think both of them could clear a buffet in like 30 mins tops and they would still be starving. Barry brought her a whole rack of ribs one time while he was barbecuing and it moved her to tears. These two are fat as hell sorry.

Speaking of food I think Barry invites her and their family over when he’s throwing anything, Wesker would rather not but Jordan convinces him every single time. Guy just wants to go home but is forced to be social for hours, I think Barry and the rest of the neighborhood dads kidnap him though and keep Wesker with them, he has no idea what to talk about until cars are brought up and he uses the opportunity to brag about the Porsche he splurged on.

Hands down Jordan’s best friend from S.T.A.R.S. (if we aren’t including Jaiden, Wesker or Silna’s OC, Jackie)

Due to their closeless I think their children are close too. Mainly Junior and Moira, both rebellious little shits who resent their fathers, perfect combo.

Friendship scale sits at a 9/10. Practically family.

Joseph Frost:

Not as close as Jaiden is to him but yeah they’re cool I think.

Honestly I think the Forest, Chris and Joseph trio are all cool with Jordan and Jaiden since all of them are mischievous shitheads who like to cause trouble and have fun while on the job. Jordan doesn’t really join them as often as Jaiden does though. Irons HATES all of them with a passion

“Are you wearing a durag?”

“???? No???”

I think if they got into an argument it’d be the worst thing ever to deal with, both Joseph and Jordan are crashouts due to their temper so they’d 100% be at eachothers throats trying to kill each other. Joseph throws a paper airplane at Jordan’s head, Jordan retaliates by picking up one of the tables in the breakroom and hurling it at the poor guy’s head. Fortunately, Jordan has Wesker to ground her so this doesn’t happen a lot.

Also another reason as to why they never really fought is because they both have that very chipper, humorous and optimistic attitude.

I remember seeing somewhere that his nickname was “Frosty”, I like to think it’s because both Jordan and Joseph’s nicknames were “Joe” within the team so to avoid confusion, Joseph was coined the nickname “Frosty” and Jordan was “Jords”.

6/10 friendship, they're cool with eachother but she flocks more towards the other S.T.A.R.S. members.

Brad Vickers:

Mannnn he is the Family Guy Meg of the friendgroup god bless his soul Jordan thinks it’s funny to make fun of him LMAO

I think she’s like.. okay with him but I don’t think they’re friends, more of acquaintances if anything. Some of the shit he says pisses her off and honestly I don't think he's too fond of her either, she's mean.

I think she’s wayyy more nicer to him than Jaiden is though this guy is a fucking bully. Brad catches strays in every single argument.

Jaiden: “Bro I’m literally prime Michael Jordan like 91 MJ.”

Jordan: “Nah you’re more like Celtics Shaq”

Jaiden: “Shut up, not even, but you know who is? Brad.”

Brad: “Oh…”

Poor guy gets peer pressured to do shit. Like hey Brad!! go lick that pile of white dog shit. Or like hey Brad !! eat this handful of 300 mg edibles that’ll leave you seeing demons. This guy is always like what.. why me ??? until money is mentioned and he jumps on the opportunity. Easy 60 dollars.

The making fun of Brad jokes have to be funny though otherwise Jordan is just going to stare at you

Like there’s a point.

She respects the fact that he works such a profession with an attitude like his, the fact that he can overcome his cowardice in order to pull a job off. Not a lot of people can do that.

Friendship sits at like a 5/10, poor guy just wants to live in peace.

BRAVO TEAM

Enrico Marini:

Another guy who’s super sus of Wesker and Jordan’s relationship. Like his feelings towards Chris and Barry, I think he was scared that she’d take his position as second in command as well. One of the few guys that conspired that Jordan “slept her way into S.T.A.R.S.”

Besides that though I think they’re on good terms. They’re acquaintances at most I feel, really the only thing that keeps them together is the fact that they’re both close friends with Barry and are part of the same team.

Okay so I think this guy is half Hispanic (Maybe Ecuador) and half Italian, hence the Marini last name. Just wanted to throw that out there sorry he is not white he has a little bit of spice.

I think they spar often when Wesker isn’t in the office, gee I wonder where he went.

Again, this is another individual where Jaiden would be closer to them rather than Jordan, they mainly just coexist. I like to think Jaiden is Enrico's right hand man and helps keep Enrico's attitude optimistic in such a profession, nobody has a clue as to how Enrico is so patient with this guy.

Friendship scale sits at a 3, their friendship is strictly professional however they're on good terms, he just gets uhh, envious.

Rebecca Chambers:

Oh my sweet baby Rebecca I love you

Definitely calls her “Bex” or “Becca” as nicknames.

They're both basketball lovers so they definitely play every so often, I like to think when they take their 15, these two, Jaiden, and a few other S.T.A.R.S. members join them for a few games of ball. Rebecca is capable of some nasty crossovers, absolute demon on the court.

Jaiden accidentally posterized her so bad to where she fell face first once and the entire team was fuming at him LMAO sorry he will not pass up on the opportunity to flex. Other than that he's like an uncle to her.

Similar to Jaiden, Jordan assumes a motherly role towards Rebecca and feels inclined to look after her, especially since she's so young and naive, she knows people like to take advantage of girls like that, the world is corrupt and she'd rather not have Rebeca be affected by it. Jordan knows how it feels to be creeped on and it's disgusting, if Rebecca was ever a victim to that Jordan wouldn't be able to forgive herself.

Before Alpha Team was dispatched to investigate the Spencer Mansion, I think Jordan was terrified that something would happen to her specifically (Besides worrying about Jaiden), Jaiden and the rest of Bravo are more than capable of protecting themselves, however Rebecca is a medic with not a lot of combat experience, hence her concern.

Friendship scale is at a 6/10! I'd say they're friends yes but not that close.

Richard Aiken:

Again, another guy she's acquintances with at most.

She thinks he's really sweet though, pretty nice guy. Very appreciative of how protective he is over Rebecca as well, we all love Becca here.

Felt really bad for his girlfriend, Bridgette, after his death. Jordan thought their relationship was really sweet and super cute, seeing another woman so heartbroken over their lovers death made her feel worse.

Friendship scale sits at a 3/10, she doesn't really know him but they do have mutual respect.

Edward Dewey:

Okay there's not a lot known about this guy in general so this'll be short.

Jordan calls him "Speddie Eddie" she thinks it's funny LMAO

Since dance is a hobby they both share I think they like to indulge in it their spare-time, I can see this big guy b-boying, yeah. It's not a thing that's done often though.

She thinks he's very sweet! nicest member on S.T.A.R.S. by far, I think he was the first person on Bravo team she befriended because of it.

Friendship is 5/10. Sweet guy, but he's just an acquaintance.

Forest Speyer:

This fucking guy

Out of all her homeboys he pisses her off the most by far but I think besides Chris and Barry, Forest's one of her favourites. I like to think he's the worst out of the Chris, Joseph and Forest trio I mean just look at him.

This guy is sooo fucking cocky oh my god, they hangout at the shooting range pretty often because that's literally the only thing Forest is willing to do because he's so good at it. Rubs it in Jordan's face everytime, pretty sizeable ratio going 34-20.

She has to call Chris over to humble him every single time

Him and Jaiden's combined ego is horrible they are both extremely insufferable.

I have a feeling this guy is extremely funny though, like snorting and wheezing levels, humour is a characteristic that Jordan loves so I think that's what draws these two together. Common interests in general like tattoos, I think they both like Ed Hardy.

Friendship scale is around uhmm probably like a 7-8/10. They're pretty friendly with one another and she thinks his cocky attitude is a bit charming, albeit annoying.

Kenneth J. Sullivan:

Ehhh

Not that close but this guy is cool

He seems really nonchalant I think she'd go to him for advice and wisdom considering he's the oldest S.T.A.R.S. member

Ball-ups with him are insane he will drop the deepest statement/speech ever and then act like everything is normal.

Okay considering Jordan's a Filipino and one of our martial arts is knife fighting (One of his strengths) I think they'd spar together often so she could hone her skill since she's kinda meh at it. Helps her with posture and getting accustomed to the ice-pick grip.

Kind of hard on her, he's a perfectionist.

Friendship scale is like uhmm, a 4/10. They're cool but they wouldn't go out of their way to seek eachother out

[gfanlocalcryptid]

JIST FINISHED MALEVOLENT SEASON 4

I really loved this season, from Scratch to Oscar, from Marie to Daniel. All these new characters added a new depth to the story and new entertaining dynamics between them.

Kayne absolutely terrorizes me. And what unsettled me the most is that... He's like us. At first I thought that Arthur was like the listeners, blind and only aware of certain things, but we all really are Kayne. We have our obsessions, the characters we don't like and our favorites.

We, like him, are here just for entertainment. We too feel powerful over the characters (think about the episode polls) and we only care about the story. We are Kayne. And it's terrifying.

The Butcher really went from being my favorite character to being fucking dead in the span of 40 minutes. I love him, when we found out he was with Noel and started singing and fighting side by side with him I started giggling and kicking my feet. He was written amazingly and I hope he comes back. Some could suggest that his story is over, but I love him so much!

And poor Noel 😭 I went from not caring for him at all to being devastated by his fate. I really hope he's in Spain.

Another genial thing tied with Kayne being some sort of omnipotent editor is that he decides everybody's fate based on what he finds funnier, and I guess that's the reason why Wallace and Yellow are bound together and stuck in the Dreamlands. I'm 100% sure they will come back.

I'm also Yellow's #1 defender, I hope we see more of him, while Wallace... I was with Arthur about that one.

Finally we know what John's deal with Kayne was (it was worse than I imagined) and I know this will probably worsen John and Arthur's relationship, but I hope that Arthur will understand. I'm honestly not that angry with John, just a little hurt, and I believe now more than ever that he really cares about Arthur.

He was not lying, his love for Arthur saved him.

Some questions still remain: who is the black haired woman who is probably an ancient one as well, how was John bound to that book, why did The KiY's cult have those prophecies about Arthur, will The Order of the Falling Star still have an important role or is that solved, and last but not least, will Anna Stanczyk still manage to elude the narrative?

PS: and what did Oscar write in that letter? This and more questions will be answered later, because I finished listening to the last episode at 3 am, it's now 3:30 and I need to wake up at 7!

[msilwrites]

Papa Bear Material Ch 11 (Captain Price Fic) - The First Time (SMUT, MDNI) Chapter 1   Chapter 1 (Shorter Version) 

Chapter 2  Chapter 3   Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6   Chapter 7   Chapter 8  Chapter 9 Chapter 10

@darkangel4121@teenagellamaangel@madzzz0797@callsignferal@marmaladespread02 @poohkie90 @wizzdot @kurt-cockaine @massivescissorsthingperson @madsothree @azkza @noonespecial475 @jaeirwin14 and to everyone else I wasn’t able to tag (I tried typing the username it would not give the line that its tagged which makes me also unable to tag you (Waaah!!)) —thank you so much for sticking with me and reading along! Your support means a lot, and it’s been awesome seeing some of you follow along from the beginning. 💕 This chapter can absolutely be read as a standalone, as the dynamic between the characters has already been established and is pretty clear by now. So, feel free to dive right into this one without worry—everything you need to know about their relationship is already pretty obvious! 😉

A/N: After the Captain has finally wrapped you around his finger, you’ve been exclusively dating for months. And now? You’ve fallen hard. John? Well, he's just as bad—if not worse. Possessive, protective, delightfully ridiculous in his affection, and utterly smitten with you. When he asks you to be his partner, you can’t help but say yes. It’s everything you’ve been waiting for—for him to make it official.

And let’s be real; you know what that means, right? The intimacy? Oh, it came in full force. And let's just say, Captain Price? He didn’t hold back. He shocked you—in the best way possible—with everything he is... and everything he’s about to show you. 😏🔥

This is the last chapter for this series—this part—because the Captain has officially won you over and now he’s taking you! Woohoo! Saving the best for last, of course.

Smut warning: MDNI!

Moving forward, the story will continue as one-shots, but don’t worry—I’ll put together a masterpost to help you follow the timeline easily. So, you can jump in and out whenever you’d like!

(If you’re feeling a bit impatient and want to skip ahead to the action, go ahead and scroll down to the steamy bits—no judgment here! But just a heads-up, I wrote this with a slow build-up on purpose. I wanted the tension to simmer and the moment to hit just right when it finally comes together. So, if you stick with the pacing, I promise the payoff will be worth it. Oh, and the sex scene? It’s a little long, so there’s plenty to dive into when you get there. 😏)

----------

The question came unexpectedly, just as you were both enjoying dinner at a cosy restaurant, the low hum of conversation around you blending with the clink of glasses. You were sipping on a bottle of beer when he turned to you, that familiar smitten smile dancing on his lips, his blue eyes filled with warmth and mischief. He leaned back slightly in his chair, the edge of his voice taking on a teasing, raspy tone.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” he began, clearly amused by whatever thought had crossed his mind, “you seem to like me enough—well, at least I think so, or you wouldn’t keep showing up, right?” He grinned, clearly proud of himself. “What do you say, love? Want to make this official with me?”

You nearly choked on your beer, laughter bubbling up from your chest as you tried to steady the bottle. “You really think I’d keep showing up if I didn’t like you?” you teased, eyes sparkling with amusement.

He raised an eyebrow, that playful glint in his eyes deepening. “I dunno, maybe it’s the eye candy,” he said with a cheeky grin. “I mean, no need to go to a gallery for a muse when you’ve got this walking, talking masterpiece right here. Makes life so much easier, don’t you think?”

That audacity. The sheer confidence of this man had you laughing so hard, you almost spat out your beer. You shook your head, trying to suppress your laughter, but his smug expression only made it worse.

“Alright, alright,” you said, finally catching your breath. “Yes, John. Let’s make this relationship official.”

He grinned wider, and there it was—that satisfied look of a man who knew he’d just won the best prize.

“Well, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He said with a wink, his voice dropping to a softer, more serious tone. “You’re mine now, love. Officially.”

And with that, the evening felt a little sweeter, the air between you two charged with something more than just the fun of the moment. It was a promise.

---------

He walked you home that night, his arm draped comfortably over your shoulders, his imposing frame radiating warmth as he guided you toward your flat. You, in turn, wrapped your arm around his waist, savouring the familiar sensation of his solid presence beside you. His grin was wide and easy, matching the relaxed rhythm of your steps.

When you reached the elevator, your heart quickened. You’d both been dancing around this moment for a while now, and you could feel the tension building between you. But as you reached your door, he kissed you. Deeply. The kind of kiss that left your knees weak and your breath ragged. His lips were hungry, but there was a restraint, a subtle control in his touch that kept you both from going further.

He pulled back, his breath heavy but steady as he looked at you, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Not yet,” he said softly, his voice thick with understanding. “Not now. I want to make sure you're ready first, not rushing anything.” His tone was warm, full of consideration. He wasn’t forcing anything; he was waiting for you, knowing that when the moment came, it would be worth the patience.

You could hear the quiet confidence in his words, and despite the heat simmering between you, it felt right. He was taking his time, respecting the space between you, and you couldn’t help but admire him even more for it.

He kissed your hand gently before turning toward the elevator lobby, leaving your flat’s hallway behind. You stood there for a moment, sighing dreamily as the warmth of the evening lingered, then stepped back inside your place, unable to shake the smile from your face.

----------

By the weekend, something had shifted. Everything was official now, and it showed. John had dropped the restraint he’d been holding onto, and instead, he was... well, touchier. He couldn’t seem to stop stealing kisses, and his hands wandered with a confidence that had you laughing and batting him away. He didn’t even try to hide how much he enjoyed it. You weren’t complaining—you’d been ready for this.

When he took you back to his house, it felt like stepping into a warm hug. His place had this easy charm to it—clean but lived-in, with a cosy, rustic feel that made you want to sink right in. For someone with his background, it was unexpected. It felt like a safe little hideaway, just the two of you.

(John Price's Cottage Home) As you crossed the threshold, something in the air shifted. You didn’t need him to say it—you already knew exactly where this was going.

John crouched by the cast-iron fireplace, carefully arranging the logs before striking a match and coaxing the flames to life. The warm glow began to spill into the room, softening the edges of the rustic space and wrapping it in a golden comfort.

“Do you want tea?” he asked, glancing back at you. His voice was calm, grounding, as if sensing the nerves bubbling just beneath your surface. “Make yourself comfortable,” he added with a nod toward the cosy furniture.

“Sure, thank you,” you replied, offering him a small smile as you settled into the plush armchair.

It was the first time you’d been here as his partner. John had brought you to his home before, but this time was different—more intimate, more charged. You couldn’t ignore the tension thrumming quietly between you. You knew what was likely to come next, and the thought sent a cascade of conflicting emotions through you.

Sex.

Your fingers fidgeted lightly against the fabric of the chair. Could he really live up to it? You doubted it, not because of him but because of your own tangled past. You’d set your expectations low—safer that way. If you were honest, you weren’t sure you even remembered how to be truly intimate with someone anymore.

Technically, you were a virgin. All you’d ever allowed yourself was the illusion of closeness: keeping everything surface-level and out of fear. Fear of pregnancy, fear of repercussions from a family whose religious rigidity had been unyielding. The price for any perceived misstep back then would have been severe, and so you’d crafted an armour of restraint and avoidance. Even in those early, misguided attempts to hold onto love through sex, you’d only found pain—used, abused, and left to pick up the pieces of your battered self-esteem.

Eventually, you reached a breaking point. Therapy helped you heal and gave you the strength to start over. Since then, you chose celibacy, locking that part of your life away. It had been over a decade now, so long that you barely remembered what it felt like to be touched or to let go. Did it even feel good back then? Did it ever feel right? The memories had faded, becoming more distant over time.

Now, sitting here, a small chuckle escaped you—a mixture of nerves and disbelief. It wasn’t just the emotional weight of it all; you weren’t even sure if you’d remember how to be good at it. Could you even keep up? you thought with a wry smile.

A plan started to form in the back of your mind, simple and safe: focus on him. Maybe you’d just rely on what you did know—pleasure him with your mouth and your hands. Throw in a bit of creativity and a little showmanship, and it might be enough to let the moment pass without diving too deeply into uncharted waters. You tried to reassure yourself, though the thought of your jaw aching afterward wasn’t exactly comforting.

The fire crackled softly in the background, filling the quiet space between your thoughts. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel that John would see through it all—that he’d sense there was more to this moment than you were letting on.

"Love?" A deep, raspy voice, accompanied by strong hands on your shoulder, pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up to find John, holding a steaming cup of tea.

"Ah, yes, thank you, John..." you smiled.

He made his way around and settled on the couch next to the armchair where you sat.

You reached into your bag and pulled out a small sample bottle of whisky—one you’d bottled yourself. The amber liquid swirled inside as you handed it to John with a playful smile. “Thought you might like to try this,” you said, your eyes glinting.

John raised an eyebrow, eyeing the bottle. “You’ve got good taste when it comes to spirits, don’t you?” He sounded impressed. “Glad to have an expert—and a collector—around. When did you start drinking like this?”

You chuckled, accepting the compliment with a grin. “Funny story… I was about twenty, maybe twenty-one. A friend from my SCO19 unit gave me this small bottle as a gift. I didn’t know much about whisky back then. I was just happy to get a gift.”

John leaned in, waiting for the rest of the story.

“I caught a nasty cold, sore throat, the works,” you went on, laughing at the memory. “I was miserable, sitting in my flat with this bottle. Didn’t think much of it, so I took a sip. And, well…” You paused for effect. “It was like drinking smoke. I ended up coughing up phlegm like I was trying to hack up my lungs.”

John burst into laughter, shaking his head. “Bloody hell, that’s one way to start.”

You shrugged, still smiling. “Yeah, not the usual introduction to whisky, but hey, it worked.”

You quickly added, “Sorry for the gross story,” though you were still laughing.

John laughed harder, his deep chuckle filling the room. “I didn’t expect that, but I like it.”

The laughter faded, leaving a comfortable silence. The tension had lifted, and it felt like the two of you were settling into a new, easier kind of closeness.

The conversation shifted towards dinner, and John glanced over with a raised eyebrow. "So, where do you want to go for dinner tonight?"

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "Dinner? We just had lunch, John. Shouldn’t we be talking about other things?"

John’s lips curled into a playful smirk as he arched an eyebrow. "Other things, like what? Teatime? Aye, we could do that. So, what do you want for tea, Y/N?"

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head in amusement. "No, I meant... what were we supposed to do?"

John’s expression softened, his teasing gaze giving way to something warmer. "Not when you’re not comfortable yet," he said gently, but with a firmness that made you pause.

You shook your head, a confident smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "But I am!" you protested, your voice carrying more certainty now. "I came here ready. I’ve had myself medically checked out," you added, locking eyes with him. "I even bought different sizes of condoms, just in case."

John’s laughter erupted, deep and genuine, his eyes glinting with admiration—and something darker. "Bloody hell, you really came prepared," he said, his voice low, a trace of amusement mixed with a hint of something more intense.

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. "Would you prefer to be underprepared?" you teased, arching a brow.

John grinned, his body leaning in closer as the air between you thickened with a palpable heat. "No, love. But I didn’t think you’d be so... thorough," he chuckled, his hand brushing against yours in a subtle but deliberate gesture.

You met his gaze with a sly smile, daring him without a word. "You’ve got to be ready for anything, right?"

He nodded in agreement, a knowing look in his eyes. "Aye, absolutely," he said, his voice low. Then, with a playful glint, he suddenly pointed off to the side. "Oh, look, Y/N. Do you see that?"

You followed his gaze instinctively, but before you could register what he was pointing at, John closed the distance between you in an instant. You barely had time to react before his hands cupped your face, his touch warm and surprisingly tender. His lips met yours, soft and gentle, a kiss that was more like a quiet promise than anything urgent.

John pulled back just enough to press another kiss to the corner of your mouth, then one to your cheek, and another to your forehead. Each kiss was light, teasing, and sweet—nothing charged, just the quiet rhythm of affection that left you breathless in the best way.

You didn’t need to say anything; the moment felt perfect as it was, a gentle connection that spoke louder than words ever could.

You set your tea cup down with a playful smile, then swatted John lightly, a mischievous glint in your eyes. Before he could react, you shove him onto the couch nearby, sliding over to straddle him with a grin.

John chuckled, his hands resting on your hips as you both leaned in, kissing and teasing each other with soft nips and playful murmurs. The air between you both was warm, charged with a kind of lazy intimacy.

Pulling back slightly, John smirked, his eyes full of amusement. “We could spend the whole afternoon like this, you know. I wouldn’t mind.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I mind,” you teased, and without warning, you pulled your turtleneck sweater over your head, revealing the black camisole underneath.

Your camisole followed next, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. Your curves revealed in a way that catches John off guard. He's always seen you in loose, shapeless clothes—who knew what you were hiding underneath? Your full figure surprises him, and there's a flicker of appreciation in his eyes.

You then begin working on his shirt, gradually unbuttoning it and pushing the material away to expose his sexy muscular physique. His skin is dotted with tattoos and scars, each telling a tale you want to learn more about. You lean back slightly, taking a moment to admire the view before continuing. Your fingers work on his belt, unbuckling it, then move to his pants, unbuttoning them with a deliberate slowness that makes the air between you crackle with tension.

Suddenly, John's large hands grip your wrists, his touch firm yet gentle. "Are you absolutely sure?" he asks, his voice laced with concern and a hint of something more.

You nod, a playful grin spreading across your face. You quickly slip his belt out of its loops, throwing it aside, then unzip his pants and draw them down.

His erection is clearly visible as it presses up against his boxer's material. You swallow as you take in the scene and realize how enormous he is. You have a brief moment of uncertainty as you consider how you're going to swallow him, but you immediately dismiss it. You can't help but laugh at the thought, and a few jaw aches are a minor price to pay. What better way to get a sore jaw than this?

John laughs, delight and excitement shining in his eyes. He teases, "I never really thought of you as aggressive," pointing to the way you've taken control and stripped him with such ease and confidence.

You slowly pull down his boxers, revealing his full thickness and length. You pause, your eyes lingering longer than you intended. His size, now fully exposed, is a vision of raw, masculine beauty—a 'monster' cock, thick, throbbing, veiny, and incredibly long. It's even longer than your head. Can this really fit in your mouth? You shake off the thought, determined to push through.

"John, sit up," you command, pulling him up. He obeys quickly, and you guide him to lean back against the backrest of the couch.

"Y/N, you don't have to do this if you—" he starts, seeing the hesitation in your eyes. But you silence him, sliding off the couch and kneeling in front of him. You grip his massive cock with your small hands, beginning to lick the tip while tugging and playing with his large balls.

He tilts his head back and groans, savoring the sensation and pleasure you're giving him. But you're not done yet.

You lift your breasts, wrapping his cock between them, and press them tightly together. The friction as you move your breasts up and down against his length, combined with your licking, nipping, and sucking, drives him wild. All he can do is watch you, grit his teeth, groan, and breathe heavily, completely at your mercy.

Wanting to push it further, you attempt to deep throat him, starting with half of his thick length already down your throat. Damn, he's big. You begin a steady bobbing motion, gradually taking him deeper and deeper. He tries to push you away, not wanting you to struggle, but you swat his hand aside, determined. Finally, you manage to take him fully, your mouth moving up and down his length slowly at first. Your mouth, jaw, and throat adjust to the stretch, and you pick up the pace.

John is a gasping, groaning mess, watching you intently. He restrains himself, his hand gently holding your hair as he gazes at your face, completely enthralled by the incredible blowjob you're giving him.

You feel his cock twitch in your throat, a sign he's close. Your eyes lock onto his as you continue to pleasure him, unyielding.

"Wait... wait... Y/N, stop, or I might just cum..." he pleads, trying to push you away, his hands gripping your shoulders.

But you're stubborn and relentless. You want to see this sexy man come undone.

You increase your speed, bobbing up and down his length, taking him deep into your throat. He can't push you off—the pleasure and your determination make it impossible.

"Y/N, wait... stop, I'm gonna cum soon if you keep this up..." he struggles to say, but you persist, unwavering.

He grips the nearby throw pillow with one hand, the other tangled in your hair. His hips buck uncontrollably against your mouth. With a primal groan, he climaxes, releasing down your throat. You swallow every drop, willingly. He gasps, catching his breath from the intense blowjob.

You release him with a pop, strings of saliva connecting your mouth to his cock. You lick your lips, a satisfied smirk playing on your face. "You're such a tasty treat, John," you purr.

He sharply sighs, still writhing and catching his breath, his gaze fixed on you.

You lean your head against his muscular thighs, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you gaze at John. He's sweaty and panting, his glistening muscles defining every contour of his body. It's a sight that's incredibly sexy to you.

You wish you could do more, but you know you've done your job well. You've given John immense pleasure, brought him to orgasm, and swallowed every drop. That should be enough to leave him spent, at least for a while.

But you're wrong. The moment John's eyes meet yours again, his strong arms lift you from your knees, pinning you down on the couch. He kisses you passionately, a bruising kiss that leaves you breathless. His hands knead your soft, full breasts, sending waves of pleasure through you. He trails kisses down your cheeks, jaw, neck, and collarbone, lingering on your breasts, nipping and licking like a man starved.

He swiftly unzips your midi skirt, pulling it down and tossing it aside along with the rest of your clothes, leaving you in just your leggings. In his haste, he accidentally tears them as he slips them off you.

"John!" you protest.

"I'm sorry, love, I'll get you another one," he murmurs, before capturing your lips again. He then hooks his fingers into your panties, sliding them down your legs to reveal your damp, eager core. A grin spreads across his face as he takes in the sight. You gulp, anticipating what's to come.

He buries his face between your legs, his tongue, mouth, and fingers working expertly on your clitoris. The sensation is overwhelming, and you melt in no time, panting and biting down on the nearby throw pillow to ground yourself as pleasure consumes you. John feasts on you like a hungry man, his tongue circling and flicking your clit with precision. He curves a finger inside you, pressing firmly against your G-spot, intensifying the sensation. The dual stimulation is almost too much to bear. You try to squirm away, the pleasure bordering on overwhelming, but John's strong grasp on your hips keeps you firmly in place. You have no choice but to surrender to the intense waves of ecstasy crashing over you, your body trembling with each skilled touch.

Your hips start to buck involuntarily against John's face, your body writhing as you lose control, soaring towards your climax.

"Joh-John... I'm... I'm gonna cum..." you manage to gasp out.

"Mmmm, then cum," he rasps against your clitoris, the vibration of his voice sending another jolt of pleasure through you.

You've never been eaten like this before—every sensitive spot attacked with precision. Pleasure and heat spread throughout your body, building to an intensity you can barely contain. You shake and buck uncontrollably faster against his face, your body on the verge of explosion.

John sits up, his tongue lapping at the juices around his mouth, his stare dark and laced with desire and longing. You bite your lip, unsure of how to react to the erotic display of him savoring your taste like it's the most delicious thing he's ever had. Your eyes widen as you notice he's hard again, his glistening cock erect and ready. You can't believe he's recovered so quickly after the intense release from the deep throat you gave him earlier.

"Now, I'm going to have you," he growls, his voice thick with lust.

Before you can even respond, he effortlessly swings you over his broad shoulder and carries you upstairs to his bedroom, your surprised gasps filling the air. He throws you onto his bed, your laughter echoing as he kicks the door closed. Grinning, he climbs on top of you, his imposing muscular frame covering yours.

He peppers sweet kisses on your cheek, the corners of your mouth, your jaw, and your neck, moving back and forth as his large hand plays with your breast, squeezing and kneading. He whispers dirty sweet nothings in your ear, "You taste so fucking good, love. I can't wait to be inside you, feeling you clench around me."

"J-John, can you get the lube downstairs?" you struggle to let out.

"Hmmm? What for? We can make you nice and wet naturally," he teases, his fingers finding your sensitive, swollen clitoris, circling it gently.

"Aaah!" you squeak, swatting his arm away, still sensitive and giggling. You turn your back to him, pressing against his chest and closing your legs. John, not having any of it, pulls you by the waist and kisses your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin.

"John, come on, we're gonna need that lube..." you ask again, as he continues his ministrations.

"What for? I'll just make you wetter, hmmm?" he teases, nipping the skin below your earlobe, a sensitive spot that makes you giggle and turn back around to swat him.

"John," you say, lighthearted but a little exasperated. "Listen to me... I am technically a virgin... I know you're already in the mood, and wouldn't want to waste time prepping to pop my cherry." You laugh, comfortable sharing this with him because he's proven himself to be a safe and trustworthy partner.

"What do you mean?" he asks, looking at you with a mix of shock and curiosity. The revelation that his partner is technically virgin, despite the incredible blowjob and the intimate moments you shared downstairs, catches him off guard.

"I need that lube, so you can have a good time while you take me at my back entrance... and yes, I mean anally. My back isn't exactly 'virgin'..." you admit sheepishly.

John gets up and stares at you intensely after that revelation, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. The thought of you giving this part of yourself to him, of being the first to have you completely, makes him feel primal. His face darkens with desire as he leans back in and kisses you passionately.

He whispers, "This pussy is mine, love. Mine to take, mine to pleasure, mine to claim. I'll be your first, your last, and your only. I'll make sure of it."

"You look so fucking beautiful, love, all undone like this. I can't wait to finally take you. I'll keep getting you wet until the sheets are soaked and you're ready to take me."

"Don't be silly, John, just take the lube downstairs," you say, struggling and gasping as he pleasures you with his large, long digits. "You're horny, no need to take your time."

He grins, his eyes gleaming with lust and admiration. "Watch me, love. Seeing you like this, losing yourself, is such a beautiful thing. I'll make sure you enjoy every second of it."

John pleasures you relentlessly, his fingers expertly rubbing your swollen clitoris in a slow circular motion before increasing the speed as you near climax. His other hand plays with your breast, squeezing and rubbing your nipple, adding to the pleasure and making you writhe. When you cum, he alternates, inserting two fingers into your entrance and curling them to find your sensitive spot, while his thumb rubs your clitoris again, pushing you further. You end up squirting and writhing against him, gasping and squeaking. John loves the display and repeats the process, playing you like an instrument, attacking your most sensitive spots repeatedly and relentlessly. Your body writhes, your eyes roll back, and your tongue lolls out.

"John... please... just fuck me..." you pant, overstimulated.

"Mmmm... let's get you wetter..." he whispers naughtily, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine.

"What do you mean wetter? My legs are wet, I've soaked the sheets! Ahhhh!!" you gasp.

John maneuvers you to face him and pushes you back down onto the duvet, taking in the sight of your sweaty, panting body. He bites his lip, the sight of you dripping with sweat and desire is incredibly sexy. He can't help but lean down and capture your lips in a long, passionate kiss. He trails his mouth from the corner of your lips to your cheeks, to your jaw, neck, collarbone, chest, and then to your breasts, where he sucks and nips at both nipples, squeezing them playfully. He continues down to your abdomen and then slides down to your wet, soaking core, where he playfully kisses your swollen clitoris.

Your eyes, which had been closed, open wide as you are overstimulated and sensitive. You quickly move your body and hips away from John's face.

"No, John, I just came!!" you protest, struggling to move backward against the duvet.

But John pulls your legs back to him and begins eating you out once again, his hands playing with your breasts. In a few seconds, you are a gasping, writhing mess, squirming against the duvet, your hips moving against John's mouth. You can't hold eye contact long with John, who is below, looking at you, watching your reaction as he eats you out. His blue eyes are too intense for you, knowing you'll cum again fast if you look long enough. The sensation is overwhelming, and you lose yourself in the pleasure, your body trembling with each skilled touch.

You feel the pressure building again, your body tensing as John's tongue and fingers work their magic. You can't hold back any longer, your body convulsing as another orgasm rips through you. You cry out, your voice a mix of pleasure and desperation.

"John!! Please, just take me, please!!" you beg, your body shaking with the force of your release. Your pleas are urgent, your need for him overwhelming. The intensity of your orgasm leaves you breathless, your body limp and satisfied, yet craving more of him.

John's gaze travels from your face down to your core, a playful grin spreading across his lips. "Hmmm? Still not wet enough..." he says cheekily, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"John!!" you let out, in protest. " Either let me have a moment, or I might just pass out," you say, your voice a mix of desperation and playfulness.

"Hmmm, I think you can take a few more... you know, before you pass out," he says playfully, teasing you with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

You sigh exasperatedly and grab a nearby pillow, throwing it at John. He catches it with a laugh and leans in to pepper your face with kisses, making you giggle despite your frustration.

His playful demeanor shifts as he grasps your chin gently but firmly, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. His other hand finds your breast, squeezing and teasing your nipple, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You gasp into his mouth, but the sound is silenced by his tongue exploring yours, claiming every inch of you.

John's pelvis presses against your wet, sensitive core, his hard cock rubbing against you with a deliberate, tantalizing rhythm. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can't help but let out a soft moan, muffled by his relentless kiss. Your body responds instinctively, arching against him, craving more of his touch.

His kiss deepens, his tongue dancing with yours in a primal, hungry dance. His hand on your breast continues its torturous teasing, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You can feel the heat building between your legs, your body aching for more.

John's cock rubs against your clitoris with increasing urgency, the friction sending waves of ecstasy through your body. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate to feel more of him. Your hips move in sync with his, your body begging for the release only he can provide.

You break the kiss, panting and gasping for air, your eyes locked onto his. The intensity in his gaze is overwhelming, a mix of lust, desire, and something deeper, something primal.

"Please, John, just fuck me already..." you beg weakly, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

John gives you a playful look, as if reconsidering. "Hmmm, but you're not wet enough yet," he teases, his voice laced with mischief.

You sigh exasperatedly, "Please, John, I need you..."

He sighs softly and leans down for a tender kiss before positioning the tip of his cock at your entrance. Slowly, he begins to sheath himself inside you. His length is thick and long, and he moves with careful consideration, worried about hurting you. You gasp at the slight, sharp stretching pain, despite your wetness, as he pushes in slowly.

He is trying to be considerate, knowing it's technically your first time being taken vaginally.

"Tell me if it's painful, I'll stop..." he murmurs, his voice filled with concern.

"Just push forward, John! Don't mind me," you say, gritting your teeth, your hands gripping his arms tightly, not letting him move back.

He slowly pushes in, his thumb rubbing your clitoris in slow circular motions to alleviate some of the pain. The dual sensation of his cock filling you and his thumb on your clitoris sends waves of pleasure through your body, mixing with the slight discomfort.

"John, no, mmmphh, don't rub, no, no, aaaahhh!!" you cry out, coming undone again, your legs shaking as his length moves a few inches deeper. "Jooohhnnn..." you whine, swatting his arm, but he chuckles and leans down for another kiss, moving deeper and deeper.

When he is finally all the way in, deep inside you, stretching you out, you gasp and pant, the sensation overwhelming. It's tight even for him, despite your wetness. John refuses to move, allowing you to get used to his size. He continues to rub your clitoris repeatedly, making you cum again, your body writhing beneath him as you adjust to his size stretching you out.

After a while, with a kiss, he pulls his pelvis back, his length retracting from your walls, only to push forward again, making you gasp. Your body is prepped and completely ready, the sensation of him moving inside you sending waves of pleasure through every nerve.

And so, he finally takes you, relentlessly, passionately. His pelvis moves tirelessly, his hips thrusting to please you. Your moans are muffled by his kisses, his weight pressing against you as he slides in and out of your warm, tight walls.

A knot forms in your womb, a pleasure unlike anything you've ever felt, building stronger and stronger. "J-John..." you struggle to let out, feeling yourself soar towards a powerful climax, something you've never experienced before.

John increases his speed, both his hands cupping your cheeks, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. His blue eyes, intense and filled with desire, make you weak in the knees and send a surge of pleasure through your stomach. You feel as if you're about to explode.

"You feel so fucking good, love," he growls, his voice low and husky. "Your tight little pussy is gripping me so perfectly. I want to feel you come all over my cock."

The pleasure builds up in your body, intensifying with each thrust. You can feel the heat spreading through your core, your muscles tensing as you climb higher and higher. John's relentless pace sends you spiraling, your body writhing beneath him, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Your eyes roll back, your chest heaving as you surrender to the overwhelming sensation. You squirm against John, your hips bucking wildly, meeting his every thrust. The room fills with the sound of your moans and the wet, slapping noise of your bodies coming together.

John leans down, capturing your mouth in a passionate, searing kiss. He swallows your panting breaths, his tongue dancing with yours, claiming every gasp and moan. His hands grip your cheeks, holding you firmly as he kisses you deeply, his body moving in sync with yours.

Your orgasm crashes over you, waves of ecstasy pulsing through your body. You cry out into his mouth, your voice muffled by his kiss. Your body convulses, your inner walls clenching around his cock, gripping him tightly as you ride out your climax.

John groans, the sensation of your orgasm pushing him to the edge. He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your ear. "Fuck, love, you feel incredible," he rasps, his voice thick with lust. He continues to move, his hips thrusting, drawing out your pleasure, prolonging your ecstasy.

Your body shakes, your nerves tingling with the intensity of your release. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his back, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. You can feel his cock throbbing inside you, his own release imminent.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours. The intensity in his gaze is overwhelming—a mix of lust, desire, and something deeper, something primal. You can see the strain in his face, the effort it takes for him to hold back, to make this moment last.

"John..." you whisper, your voice breathless, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You reach up, cupping his face, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks. You can feel the tension in his jaw, the heat of his skin.

He leans into your touch, his eyes softening slightly. "You're so beautiful, love," he murmurs, his voice filled with wonder and adoration. He kisses you again, softly this time, his lips gentle against yours.

As your orgasm subsides, John slows his movements, allowing your body to recover from the intense pleasure. He continues to press soft, gentle kisses to your lips, your cheeks, and your forehead, his touch tender and caring.

"Shh, love, just relax," he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth and affection. He brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, his fingers tracing the contours of your cheek. "You're so beautiful, you know that?" he whispers, his eyes locked onto yours, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Your body begins to relax, your muscles uncoiling as you bask in the afterglow of your climax. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close, your breaths coming in sync. His body is still pressed against yours, his cock still inside you, but he remains still, allowing you to set the pace.

He peppers sweet kisses on your neck, your collarbone, your shoulders, his lips gentle against your skin. You can feel his heart beating against your chest, the steady rhythm soothing and comforting. His hands roam your body, not with urgency, but with reverence, tracing the curves of your hips, your waist, your breasts.

"That was... incredible," you whisper, your voice breathless, your body still tingling with the remnants of your ecstasy.

After a few minutes of breathing time, you feel ready for more. You pull back slightly, your eyes meeting his. "John," you whisper, your voice filled with renewed desire. "I want you to cum too. I want to feel you."

He pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. A soft smile plays on his lips, and then he's kissing you again, his body beginning to move with yours once more.

The passion between you reignites, and John begins to move his pelvis again, sliding in and out of you at a steady pace. He peppers your face with tender kisses, his lips gentle against your skin. Your eyes flutter closed, your hands wrapped tightly around him, holding him close as you lose yourself in the sensation.

There's no hurry in his movements, no rushed desperation. Instead, he takes his time, savoring you, cherishing every moment. His thrusts are deep and deliberate, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. He kisses your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, his touch tender and loving.

Your body responds to his, your hips rising to meet his thrusts. You can feel the pleasure building again, your muscles tensing as you climb higher and higher. His cock fills you completely, stretching you, the sensation intense and overwhelming.

He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your ear. "You feel so good, love," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "I want to feel you come with me."

Your body shivers at his words, your nerves tingling with anticipation. You can feel his cock throbbing inside you, his own release imminent. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, desperate to feel him come undone.

His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent. Your bodies move together, the room filled with the sound of your panting breaths and the wet, slapping noise of your bodies coming together. The pleasure builds and builds, your body tensing, your muscles coiling tightly.

"John," you gasp, your voice a breathless whisper. "I'm so close..."

He leans back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours. The intensity in his gaze is overwhelming, a mix of lust, desire, and something deeper, something primal.

John maintains a steady, slightly increased pace, his movements deliberate and controlled. His forehead rests against yours, his lips capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss. As he retracts, he whispers sweet nothings against your lips, his voice a low, husky murmur.

"I want to feel you come undone, love," he breathes, his pelvis continuing to move in a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure through your body. "Let go with me."

Your body responds to his every touch, your hips rising to meet his thrusts. You're close, just as you said earlier, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your toes curling with anticipation. The sensation is overwhelming, your muscles tensing as you climb higher and higher.

"John... John!!! Joohn!!!" you cry out, your voice a breathless, desperate plea as you reach your climax. Your body convulses, writhing against him, your inner walls clenching around his cock. The intensity of your orgasm sends shivers down your spine, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

John follows soon after, a primal growl escaping his lips as he releases inside you. His lips and head press against your cheek, inhaling your scent, kissing and nipping your skin. His body shudders with the force of his own climax, his breath hot against your ear.

You both pant heavily, your bodies slick with sweat, your hearts pounding in unison. John's weight presses against you, his body still covering yours. He holds your waist firmly, and in a fluid motion, flips you both over, so that you're now lying on top of him, his body supporting yours.

The room is filled with the sound of your breathing, the air thick with the scent of your combined arousal. You lie there, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your shared climax, your limbs entwined, feeling deeply connected to each other.

----------

You wake up that evening, your body deliciously sore and sated after spending the entire afternoon making love. After that intense climax, you both went for another round just half an hour later. This time, John's restraint was gone, his movements more urgent and passionate.

You climaxed repeatedly, each time more intense than the last, your body writhing and squirting with each wave of pleasure. The duvet beneath you was soaked, showing just how intense your shared passion had been. John, with a hint of sadistic pleasure, loved watching you lose yourself completely.

This continued until you both reached your final, explosive climax. Exhausted and overwhelmed, you passed out almost immediately, your body limp but deeply satisfied. The room is quiet now, the air still thick with the scent of your combined arousal, as you lie there, basking in the afterglow of your shared ecstasy.

John lies asleep beside you, his breath deep and even. You can't help but smile softly as you take in his peaceful form. Gently, you slip out of his warm embrace and the cocoon of the duvet, the cool air of the room prickling your skin. The evening sky outside is a canvas of purple, orange, and blue, painting a serene backdrop to your movements.

Your body aches pleasantly as you make your way out of the room, each step a reminder of the passionate hours spent with John. The house is quiet, the air chilled with the winter season. You gather your discarded clothes, a small smile playing on your lips as you see the state of them—a torn camisole strap, leggings, and knickers strewn aside in the heat of the moment.

Careful not to wake John, you tiptoe downstairs to the first-floor bathroom. The warm spray of the shower is a welcome relief, washing away the remnants of your passionate encounter. As you clean yourself, you notice the marks John left on your body—little reminders of his intensity. You sigh, a mix of exasperation and satisfaction, thankful for the concealing layers of winter clothing.

Your thoughts drift back to your first time with John. The memory of the pleasure sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but smile at the recollection. Finishing your shower, you step out, dry off, and slip into comfortable loose pants and a cozy turtleneck sweater.

Feeling refreshed and content, you make your way to John's rustic kitchen, ready to prepare a warm dinner to cap off the perfect day.

As you're cooking dinner, you hear hurried footsteps followed by John's voice calling out for you.

"Mmm? I'm in the kitchen, John!" you respond, hearing his sigh of relief.

A few seconds later, he enters the kitchen, his eyes softening as he sees you. He walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. He inhales deeply, taking in your fresh scent, his breath warm against your neck.

"I thought you ran away," he murmurs, a hint of concern in his voice.

You turn slightly to look at him, a playful smile on your lips. "Why would I run away? It's freezing outside, and thanks to you, my legs are weak and sore. I can barely walk, let alone make a run for it."

He chuckles, his grip tightening around you. "Well, maybe you finally realized I'm too much to handle and decided to make a run for the hills. Can't say I blame you; I can be a lot."

You grin, poking him playfully in the chest. "You're right about that. I'm completely worn out, thanks to you."

He laughs, a teasing glint in his eyes. "And yet, I plan to subject you to it all over again. But first," he says, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "dinner smells amazing. Almost as good as you."

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile. "Well, you need to freshen up first. I won't have you eating dinner naked."

He leans in, his voice a low rumble. "Who says I need clothes to enjoy a good meal?"

You sigh exasperatedly, turning off the stove. "Out, John. You're not allowed in the kitchen until you're fresh and dressed." You playfully push him out, laughing as he feigns protest.

Later, John returns, freshly showered and dressed, finding the dining table already set with care. He helps you put the finishing touches on the meal, his hands brushing yours as you work together in a comfortable rhythm. The room fills with the warmth of the food and the soft glow of each other's company.

Dinner is a cozy affair, the clinking of glasses and the hum of quiet conversation creating an intimate atmosphere. After the meal, you both clean up the plates and utensils side by side, the simple domesticity of the moment bringing a contented smile to his face.

As the evening wears on, John's earlier promise lingers in the air. With a playful smirk, he takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom. True to his word, he subjects you to another round of intense pleasure, leaving you both breathless and deeply satisfied. You collapse into each other's arms, the world outside forgotten, as you laugh softly and say, "Well, I guess I can handle a little too much after all."

John grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Challenge accepted. Let's see how much you can really handle." And with that, he pulls you close, ready for another round. A/N:

Sorry for the delay, everyone! I know this chapter took a while, but I wanted to make sure it came out just right. It’s been through its fair share of rewrites, but I hope the end result is worth it!

This is the final chapter for this series. The story will continue in the form of one-shots moving forward, but don’t worry—I’ll be putting together a masterpost to help you follow the timeline.

And, of course, I hope you enjoyed your first time with the Captain! (HAHAHAHA!!) Now go hydrate or something—you’ve earned it. 😏

Also, a quick shoutout: the house described in this chapter is inspired by @eleu22's moodboard for John Price’s home. I saw it, loved it, agreed with it, and then tried to create a house and an interior based on that using The Sims 4. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! 🎮✨

[sturniololuv08]

On The Eleventh Day Of Nickmas...

Day 11 of Juno's 12 Days Of Nickmas (Day 12 will be TONIGHT)

Nick felt a weird sense of guilt after what he had done yesterday afternoon. He spent the rest of the day in his room, avoiding Matt and Chris. They were already too involved with his personal life, and he was actually afraid they would guess what he had done just by making eye contact with him. He balled up his dirty sheets and threw them in the corner of his room, saying he would do them in the morning when no one would catch him. It was the morning, so he grabbed his sheets and went downstairs. He froze, absolutely mortified by the sight he saw. Matt and Chris were awake and in the kitchen. So he panicked, thinking they would put the puzzle pieces together. But that wasn't all; as if to add to the extra embarrassment, Jared and his sister were also in the kitchen.

"Nick, you're up." Jared looked a little more energized seeing his best friend.

"You're here." Nick tilted his head and shifted his weight on his feet.

"Yeah, Matt invited us over early so we could bake and help set up for tonight." Bri smiled eye level at Matt.

"Nice." Nick was trying to play nonchalantly.

"Doing laundry?" Chris asked with a brow raised.

"Yeah. Haven't washed these in a while. I just forgot since we've been out of town." He praised himself for sounding so natural. He made his way over to the washer and dryer and shoved the sheets in, making sure no one could see the crusty spot.

"You gonna help us? We are making sugar cookies right now." Jared appeared right next to Nick. He looked up into the green eyes he envisioned and again felt the pang of guilt.

"Yeah, gimme a second." He added the soap to the washer and started it. He came back out into the kitchen and saw the mess everyone was happy to be making. Matt was flirting openly with Bri while rolling out dough that had already been made while Jared and Chris were playfully fighting about stirring the next batch. Nick sighed at the scene. He needed to act normal. The only problem; he wasn't entirely sure what normal was around Jared anymore.

"Nick, you wanna start a third batch?" Jared stopped harassing Chris and turned his attention to Nick. He was having fun poking Chris' nerves but would rather give his attention to Nick. Once his sister got into town, they settled in for the night. The next day they spent all their time gift shopping because Bri didn't want to show up today without presents for the boys hosting. It was Christmas Eve, and the triplets were having a small LA Christmas party. Their house wasn't big, but with a little bit of setting up, it would still be a good time. While shopping, Bri did her usual sisterly thing and started asking Jared about Nick. Jared, at first, was dodgey, but then halfway through 20 questions, he gave up and gushed. He told his sister everything anyway, so getting her opinion wouldn't hurt.

Jared being able to talk about Nick freely opened up his eyes and mind to his best friend being more. He wasn't sure how their dynamic would change if they got into a relationship. He also was unsure if he wanted to test that boundary. He loved his friendship with Nick. It was random and fast but also comfortable and genuine. Bri, of course, urged Jared to go for it. She has always wanted to see her brother happy, and even though Matt frequently stole her attention, she wasn't blind to the chemistry her brother had with his best friend.

"A third? How many people are coming?" Nick questioned.

"I don't know Chris invited everyone." Chris was the socialite of the three, so he probably invited a good number of people.

"Like 30 people?" Chris was reading the back of a box for his next move.

"30 people in our house? Are you fucking insane?" Matt lifted his head to join the conversation.

"Only half RSVPed." He made a face that told everyone to calm down. "Most people are with their families." He had a point.

"What if, like, no one showed up?" Bri started giggling at the thought.

"We'd have a lot of cookies to eat." Chris laughed.

"Are we only making cookies?" Nick interjected to see the whole plan.

"No, we got a list." Matt handed him the food prep list. He scanned over it and realized it was mainly easy finger foods. The morning quickly turned into the afternoon. The house was flipped upside down and ready for anyone to attend the holiday party.

"Looks great." Jared stood slightly behind Nick. Nick thought he was talking about the living room he was staring at. They had slightly decorated more and moved the furniture around to optimize the number of people it could hold. Jared was talking about Nick. He had been checking him out all day. Jared's heart would flutter whenever Nick and Chris would get into a war with the dough mix. Nick laughing and spending time with his brothers made Jared happy. He could see how genuine of a person Nick was behind the scenes of their videos. He was always clipped to seem a little meaner or disinterested in his brothers with his dry humor, but Jared saw the bits between the pieces not edited out. He saw Nick.

"Yeah, we got like an hour before people should be here."

"We should tal -"

"Where are we putting the present?" Bri's arms were full.

"Let me help you," Nick ran to assist her. He heard Jared but wanted to avoid it. After his secret session, he was afraid to talk to Jared about anything related to that. He wanted to have a good Christmas Eve and pretend nothing was going on as best he could.

"Thank you." She handed the boxes to Nick.

"Presents?" Matt raised a brow.

"I wanted to get you guys some stuff, so yesterday we went shopping," Nick noted. That's what Jared did all day since he didn't message him once. Nick knew he was with his sister, so he wasn't worried or anything like that, but he did wish for a single text of some sort the whole day.

"Bri, you didn't have to!" Chris side-hugged and shook her.

"Any friends of my brother's are friends of mine." She nodded matter-of-factly.

"That's so sweet, babe." Matt let it slip off his tongue. Everyone immediately looked at him. "Bri." He fumbled to fix his mistake.

"Yeah, Bri," Nick said sarcastically as he tucked presents underneath the tree they decorated haphazardly. Glances were exchanged.

"I'm going to go play Fort with Justin while we wait." Chris checked his phone for the time.

"Can I join?" Matt asked. He and Chris dipped out, leaving the kitchen a mess. Bri followed Matt into his room without a word.

"I guess I'll clean up." Nick huffed. He started loading the sticky baking dishes into the washer. He felt pressure behind him. He turned his head and saw Jared right up against him.

"I'll help you." He smiled softly. Nick was frozen. He immediately felt his body flushing with heat.

"Okay, " he whispered, unable to move. Jared wrapped his arms around Nick from behind and started rinsing dishes. Nick was stuck between Jared and the counter.

"I'd be able to get more done if I had more room," Nick said sassy.

"Does this bother you?" Jared challenged Nick. He pressed a little harder.

"N... n... no." Nick stuttered. He felt himself press against the counter, already feeling the pressure in his groin growing.

"What about this?" Jared used his height to his advantage and dipped his head low to kiss the nape of his friend's neck. Nick involuntarily tilted it to the side.

"No." He bit his lip. He still stood in place, unsure of what to do. He could stop everything, but his words already confirmed his desire. "What if someone walks in?" Nick wondered who could pop in at any moment.

"Just tell me to stop." Jared ran his fingertips over Nick's hipbone line, leaving goosebumps behind their trail. He lingered just underneath Nick's belly button. "Stop?" he questioned. Jared wanted to hear Nick say it was what he wanted, partially for consent reasons but mainly because he wanted Nick to want him back.

"No." Nick moaned out. Jared slowly moved down Nick's happy trail, tickling the hair that led him right to where he wanted to be. Nick grabbed the counter tightly. Jared's hand felt so much better than his own. It was taking everything in him not to start bucking wildly into the counter's edge. Jared wasn't entirely in the clear, either. He was slowly growing himself. Nick wanting him gave him tingles, and the excitement he felt at the idea of touching Nick's cock for the first time was burning in his own. He slowly wrapped his fingers around Nick. They let out a small moan at the same time. Jared started chuckling. "What?" Nick flushed red.

"You must want me bad?" Jared teased with his words and his fingers running over Nick's tip. Nick tilted his head down and gripped the counter with a low hiss leaving his lips.

"Yeah." Nick removed Jared's hand from his waistband and used it to tug him up the stairs to his room. Jared wasn't prepared for this action, so he followed aimlessly. Nick slammed the door shut and tossed Jared to the bed.

"Damn, Nick." Jared smiled with lust swirling in his eyes. He wasn't sure what was about to happen.

"You want me too." Jared couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement. Nick straddled Jared's lap and cupped his neck. He smashed their lips together roughly. After yesterday afternoon, Nick craved more Jared. He knew it was silly to want more of someone you never had, but Jared didn't seem to have any protest. Jared did not have any protest. He was all in and ready to go as far as Nick would let him. Jared's hands moved up and down Nick's sides over the fabric of his shirt. Nick had some underlying self-conscious tendencies and wasn't ready to take his shirt off. He had changed in front of Jared countless times but not with the mindset of it being seen as attractive by his best friend.

"Are we just friends?" Jared, being older, has had past experiences where he'd been intimate with friends, some of whom he stayed friends with and others with whom the friendship was ruined. He didn't want either of those to happen with Nick.

"No." Nick finally admitted it out loud. He dove back in to continue kissing Jared. By this point, Jared was packed in his sweats and needed relief. He lifted his hips with Nick on his lap, never breaking their kiss, and pulled his sweat to his mid-thigh. Nick was now able to rub himself back and forth on his exposed skin, giving Jared the friction he had been hoping for. Jared leaned back on his elbows and let his head fall. "Oh, yeah?" Nick smirked, realizing how much pleasure he was able to cause. He wanted to press this further, but he was nervous. He had been intimate with guys before, but something about Jared was unique. He kept grinding on him, watching his face wince with gratification. "Are you going to cum for me?" Nick asked.

"Uh-huh." Jared opened his bright green eyes and looked at Nick. It was just how he imagined it yesterday. Nick felt his pulsating penis throb one final time before busting. He didn't stop grinding on Jared's bare skin. He decided he wanted to be bold and surprise him. He stopped moving, and Jared's eyes shot open again to ask the question his mouth couldn't form. Nick gripped Jared's length in his hand. He subconsciously compared it to his own and noted Jared was smaller in width than him. He started pumping up and down fast. "Oh Fuck." Jared exclaimed out loud. He wasn't quiet.

"Cum for me," Nick commanded. His tone wasn't dominant but more so pleady. Jared lost his control and released all over Nick's hand. A few spurts released and came back down on his stomach and shirt, but he didn't care.

"Fuck. Nick." Jared bit his lip and rolled his head backward again. He started to see little stars as his vision blurred. Nick stayed sitting on top of him.

"Hey, Jared - " They turned around to see Bri in the doorway.

"Shit." Nick leaped off of her brother. Jared tucked himself away so she hopefully wouldn't see anything.

"Woah, I'm sorry." She covered her face. "I... Never mind." She sputtered and left, closing the door behind her.

"Well, shit." Nick stood up and felt his own sticky substance in his pants. He started stripping.

"What?" Jared was sure his sister didn't care because she advocated for her brother's happiness.

"I mean, she saw us." Nick was flustered. His face was red from being caught and a pleasure high.

"Yeah." Jared chuckled, lying on the bed still covered in his own cum.

"She is going to tell Matt." Nick was upset about it. Other than saying whether they liked someone or not, the brothers had a line they didn't cross, and that was talking about anything overly intimate.

"And?" Jared wasn't getting it. He was excited to be linked to Nick in any way. Nick huffed. "Not everything has to be doomsday." Jared smiled at him. Nick was still uncomfortable with the idea of his brother knowing more about his personal life than he wanted to share.

"I guess you're right. Who knows, she may not say anything." Nick was trying to keep positive.

"Oh, she is telling Matt." Jared shot him down. He knew his sister well enough to know Matt was hearing everything right now.

"People are here!" Chris's voice boomed through the skinny house. They changed clothes, which was going to be evident to Bri and Matt no matter the lie they could come up with to cover it up. As they descended the stairs, all eyes were on them—Chris' eyes were oblivious, Bri and Matt knew, and now Tara and Larray were in the mix.

"Nicky!" Tara snatched him up quickly.

"Let's party!" Chris hollered. Bri molded into the group flawlessly, but Jared struggled with who to talk to and what to talk to. Nick was doing his best to introduce him around the room that was filling up but after it got full enough they were no longer in each others proximity. Jared felt like Nick was avoiding him since they had been caught. He didn't understand why it was such a big deal for Nick. He also wanted to address their "not just friends" mini-conversation. Was it true, or was it just said in the heat of the moment? Jared felt stupid that this 21-year-old kid was making his head spin, but he couldn't get enough.

This ons is a little late: 1- It's the longest Nickmas I've written. 2- I wasn't quite sure its direction... But tonight I know EXACTLY what's going to happen so be PREPARED.

Taglist: @trevorsgodmother @strnilolover @chrissbug333 @kirby0strombolli @abbilmao @ksturnz @marrykisskilled @thenickgirl

[persephoneprice]

It’s so fascinating to me that Festus Creed had liked (or at least tolerated) Sejanus (to an extent). Obviously, I don’t think they were friends per se but it intrigues me that they were at least friendly to some degree.

I would absolutely love to see what their interactions would have been like pre-hunger games.

Give me Festus Creed and Sejanus Plinth being partnered for a project, talking about their father’s businesses, discussing a homework assignment, or their future plans.

Give me some sort of positive interactions between Festus Creed and the other academy students that aren’t Coriolanus.

Give me anything.

[moeblob]

OC !

[uncanny-tranny]

At this point, gender nonconformity is about what the person says their experience is.

If a woman with a beard or a man with lipstick and a mustache says they're gender nonconforming, then they are! If a woman with short hair or a man with long hair says they aren't, they aren't! And that's not even getting into the awesome nonbinary, abinary, genderqueer, intersex, and general genderfuckery that may both be and not be conforming.

So much of what is even considered gender conforming or gender nonconforming is based on a world of exclusion. When we start defining one's conformity with whether they fit into white cishetero perisex standards or not, we play into the idea that there's only a very narrow window of what is considered worthy of time and thought.

[shannonsketches]

He said "Fuck this shit, I'm out" I'm crying. Toriyama's Vegeta was so top shelf 🤌

(From Neko Majin Z Chapter 5!)

[quillkiller]

having so many university au rosier twins thoughts