#it literally goes against everything i believe in lol

[rafesbangs]

was literally just reading all your work and you write so well!! new fav blog fr, i was wondering (if you're interested) if we could have some rafe x kook bestf!reader fluff, angst kinda one-shot story? thank youuu !! <3

thank you soso much ml !! ofc ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

req! 𝜗𝜚 kook!reader sneaks out to a boneyard kegger, & bsf!rafe gets pretty protective.

c!w; fluff ! for once, bsf!rafe, soft!rafe, possessiveness, overprotective guy friend, icky males, drinking, a brief physical fight, tiny mention of blood, mostly very fluffy with a tinge of angst ! notes; i can't believe this is my first fluff work lol ! i kinda wrote loads oopsie, i hope you enjoy <3

you sneak out of your house, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards. the night air is cool against your skin as you walk through the empty streets, the buzz of the kegger ahead growing louder with each step. it’s just past midnight when you reach the boneyard, the ground is uneven, the sand mixing with beer-stained grass, and the smell of salty air mingles with the faint scent of weed and sweat.

you grab a red solo cup from the keg, its warmth feeling strange against your fingers. your eyes scan the crowd, taking in the sight of everyone laughing, shouting, and dancing—people you mostly know but can never remember their names the next day. you slip into the chaos, easing into conversations, letting the alcohol dull the edges of the night. everything’s blurry, but in a good way, like you can finally breathe.

“hey,” a voice says, way too close to your ear. you turn, finding some random boy—a touron, probably. his blue eyes are too wide, his grin a little too eager. “you’re cute. want a drink?”

you arch an eyebrow, taking a small step back. “no, thanks. i've got one,” you say, trying to keep your tone light. you’re not interested, but you don’t want to be rude.

he doesn’t get the hint. instead, he takes a half-step toward you, leaning in as though he’s trying to get into your personal space. “oh come on, don’t be like that. one drink won’t hurt.”

you cross your arms and take another step back, annoyance creeping up your spine. “i said no, okay?”

he just laughs like it’s some kind of game, and that’s when you start to feel the frustration bubble up. you don’t want to make a scene, but it’s clear this guy doesn’t know how to take a hint. every time you move away, he follows.

“seriously, i’m not interested,” you snap, voice growing more annoyed. “go find someone else.”

the boy’s smile falters, but his hand comes out to touch your arm, a move that feels more possessive than friendly. before you can even say anything else, a shadow cuts through the crowd, and you hear a familiar voice bark, “hey, man, leave her alone.”

you glance over, relief flooding you when you see rafe, your best friend, pushing through the crowd, eyes narrowed and jaw tight. his presence has always been a kind of shield for you, and this time, it’s no different.

the touron boy looks up at rafe, sizing him up like he’s about to say something smart, but rafe doesn’t wait. he steps closer, his voice colder than you’ve ever heard it. “i said, leave her the hell alone.”

the tourist smirks. “or what?”

before you can even blink, rafe’s already moved. his fist connects with the touron's jaw, knocking the boy off balance, and the crowd around you steps back, forming a ring. it’s over before you can process what’s happening—a punch here, a shove there, and the guy crumbles. rafe doesn’t stop. another hit to the stomach, and the touron goes down, blood trickling from his lip.

you’re frozen for a moment, shock settling in your chest, but when rafe finally steps back, you see the blood smeared across his knuckles and the red pooling around his nose. it’s not much, but it’s enough to make your heart stop for a second.

“oh my god, rafe,” you rush to him, your hands hovering at his shoulders as you try to figure out what to do. “are you okay? your nose…”

he swipes at it with the back of his hand, but it only makes it worse. his eyes narrow, his face flushed with anger, but his voice is rough, like he’s trying to convince himself he’s fine. “yeah, i’m fine. it’s just a scratch.”

“rafe…” you trail off, frustration mixing with your worry. you want to help, but he’s already brushing you off, turning his back to you to walk away.

“let’s get out of here,” he mutters, walking toward the edge of the party. you follow, watching him, unsure of what to say. your stomach twists, unsure whether to be relieved that it’s over or angry that he’s hurt, again, because of you.

the two of you make your way down the beach, the sounds of the party growing distant behind you. it’s too quiet, and you can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.

“you shouldn’t have done that,” you say finally, breaking the silence. you’re still angry, but your voice cracks with worry. “you didn’t have to get into that fight. you could’ve just-”

“and you shouldn’t have snuck out in the middle of the night to get drunk at a kegger alone!” rafe snaps, his voice rougher than usual, and you flinch at the bite in his words. “what the hell were you thinking? you know i worry about you.”

you swallow hard, the sting of his anger hitting you like a slap. “i didn’t mean to… i wasn’t trying to-”

“you’re reckless,” he interrupts, throwing his hands up in frustration, and you step back, feeling the weight of it settle deep in your chest. his words cut through you, sharper than you want to admit, and you stare at the sand beneath your feet.

“i’m sorry,” you say quietly, your voice small now, “i didn’t mean to make you worry. i didn’t-”

rafe stops walking and turns to face you, the moonlight catching the blood on his hands and the jagged split on his knuckles. he looks at you for a long moment, his expression softening just a little.

“it’s not just that,” he mutters, the words barely above a whisper. “i care about you. i don’t want anything to happen to you.”

you feel your chest tighten, your heart fluttering unexpectedly. you step closer to him, unsure of what to say, but then your arms are around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“'m sorry rafe. thank you f'caring, so much about me” you whisper into his shirt, the words soft, sincere. you feel the tension in his body for a moment, like he’s not sure what to do with this closeness, but then he wraps his arms around you too, just a little hesitantly at first, before he holds you tightly.

“don’t thank me,” he mutters, his voice breaking a little. “i’m just... doing what you deserve.”

but when you pull back to look at him, his eyes are full of something else, something that feels a little more vulnerable. you reach up, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, and that’s when you see a tear, slipping down his cheek, a quiet, unexpected crack in his facade.

“rafe…” your voice trembles. “what’s wrong?”

he swallows hard, avoiding your gaze. “it’s just… no one ever thanks me for caring. they just expect me to always be the one looking out for everyone else, but no one ever... gives a damn about me.”

you blink, heart catching in your throat. “that’s not true,” you say, pulling him back in closer, holding him tighter. “i care. i always care.”

he sniffles, his shoulders shaking just slightly as he pulls away, his expression softening but still strained. “dad doesn’t love me 's much as he loves sarah. he’s always telling me how proud he is of her. he- he never says it t'me. and i try so hard. i do everything f'him, everything to make him proud. 'm just invisible to him”

the weight of his words hits you like a punch to the gut, and you squeeze him tighter, not knowing what else to say. “’m so sorry, rafe,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. “i can’t imagine what that must feel like. but you’re not invisible t'me. you never will be.”

his breath hitches, and then, finally, he lets go. tears slip down his face now, the kind he’s always kept hidden. you hold him as he breaks down, your arms around him, offering what little comfort you can.

you both sit there in the sand for a long time, the sound of the ocean surrounding you, the night stretching on like a long, quiet exhale. finally, rafe pulls back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“thanks for being here,” he says, voice still rough, but softer than before. “for… f'caring.”

you smile at him, your heart full. “always, rafe. i’m always here for you.”

when you finally sneak back to your house, you help him up to your room. in the soft glow of your bedroom light, you clean the blood off his hands, gently tending to his wounds. rafe watches you, the affection in his eyes evident as he gazes at you with a softness you don’t see often.

“y'always so damn careful with me,” he murmurs, his voice full of something unspoken.

“'ts because i care,” you whisper, holding his hand in yours, feeling the warmth between you that has always been there.

[queennai714]

Ok, I love music and I would be lying if I said there was any kind of song I actually dislike, but I will admit I have been getting kinda tired of cheesy love/breakup songs, especially the ones the radio decides they need to play on loop, and I have a bit of a distaste for country, despite the numerous exceptions

However...

"Breakeven" by The Script?

ABSOLUTE BANGER

EVERYTHING INSIDE ME TELLS ME I SHOULDN'T LIKE THIS SONG AS MUCH AS I DO BUT IT GOES SO HARD

IVE BEEN LISTENING TO IT ON LOOP FOR LIKE AN HOUR AND I STILL LOSE MY MIND EVERYTIME THAT CHORUS HITS

🎶💃"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WHEN THE BEST PART OF ME WAS ALWAYS YOU AND, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY WHEN I'M ALL CHOKED UP AND YOU'RE OK!?"💃🎶

[seiwas]

@soumies

Megumi for knife to the throat but the blade can't seem to cut this weird sexual tension we've got going on

you're the only one that's holding me down, megumi fushiguro ;

pairing megumi fushiguro x f!reader word count 1.3k synopsis pressing a blade to your ex-fiance's throat, and other loving, tender moments content contains exes still in love, slight angst

Staring directly into someone’s face is such an intimate act. 

You don’t realize this fact until you’re straddling Megumi’s annoyingly slim waist, the glint of your blade against his throat causing the sunlight to beam right into your eye. 

Everyone claims that Megumi Fushiguro is the ultimate pretty boy. Mai claims that his bone structure is undefeated and that any sane girl would commit atrocious crimes against humanity to get lashes as nice as his natural ones. Momo says that she’s never seen a shade of blue eyes as pretty as Megumi’s (her only frame of reference, by the way, happen to be her own bug-eyes and Satoru Gojo’s, whose eyes are so freakishly, eerily icy blue that you’re thankful he wears the blindfold twenty-four/seven). Even Miwa, who is too busy trying to earn a living, can take the time to admit that Megumi Fushiguro is the exact type of person the ancient Greeks model gods after. 

You want to blame their admiration of Megumi on the fact that thanks to their attendance at the Kyoto school, interactions with cute boys were few and far between. Todo’s fine, if you’re into loudmouths who could also pose as the poster boy for steroids — or, even better, those clickbait ads on shady websites that tell you if you take this magical pill, in three days, you can be as shredded as him! Noritoshi is so stiff and aloof that no one can view him as hot. Mechamaru is a fucking robot. 

So, the bar for the Kyoto girls’ rating of attractiveness is damn near hell. You examine Megumi’s face and eagerly search for a flaw to hold against him. There’s a faint, barely noticeable scar above his lips. It blends into his skin seamlessly, and you think your eyes could be tricking you. However, you latch onto this scar. Megumi Fushiguro is not the perfect specimen, you think smugly. 

“Let me go,” he snaps. “If anyone’s acting under the effects of the curse, it’s you.”

“You’re not exactly in the position to be ordering me around,” you point out. You have one hand pressed against his chest to steady yourself, the other gripping the knife. 

“Clearly you still consider me a threat.” His eyes flicker downwards, even though he can’t possibly see his hands. They’re bound behind his back, his cursed energy sealed from the specialized handcuffs you managed to lock on him. The last thing you needed was for him to sic his wild animals on you. 

“Maybe I just like this position.” 

A momentary truce forms when you don’t tease him for his cheeks turning pink, and he pretends not to notice that when you realize your accidental underlying innuendo, your grip on the dagger loosens considerably. 

Megumi is fully aware that your bark and your bite are on the same level of batshit insane. He figures this is just how all women sorcerers have to be in order to survive this environment. If you say you’re going to slit his throat at the first sign of him being compromised by a curse, he can trust that you would keep your word. 

You didn’t threaten him, though. Instead, when the curse nearly got a good touch on him, you had screamed out his name. You let the curse get away in favor of tackling him to the ground, and the frenzied look on your face as you searched him for any sign of possession makes his insides twist and heat rise to his cheeks and paint the tips of his ears a flushed pink. 

For a second, it still felt like you cared about him. 

Then, you slapped those restrictive cuffs on him and got on top, as a means to restrain him. He had frozen up when he realized how close your bodies are, how he can feel the warmth from you traveling and enveloping his own body. 

This is bad, Megumi realizes. Not because the curse got to him — it didn’t. It’s bad that his heart still goes pitter-patter every time you’re near, and that he’s hyper aware of the way your body fits nicely and neatly against his own. He knows that it’s wrong to be feeling this way, to want to savor every last scrap of you that he can get. The jujutsu world is small. Nearly everyone knows about the broken engagement between you two. Having the both of you paired up for a mission, especially since your territories are so far from each other, is a sick and twisted joke. 

The curse thrives on couples, intertwining itself with its victim and twisting their host’s love into hatred. There’s been a recurring theme of lovers murdering their significant others. The more love in their heart, the stronger the curse’s manipulation. 

It just goes to show that too much love is a fucking burden, a curse in and of itself. You know that it is, because if it came down to it, if Megumi were truly compromised and wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t have it in you to kill him first. 

“I told you, I haven’t been hit by the curse.” 

“How can I know that this isn't just a trick? You’ve always been good at self-restraint and hiding yourself from me.” The comment is petty, all things considered. In the end, when Megumi asked you if breaking off the engagement was what you truly wanted, you remained expressionless and impassive. We can’t ever go back to the way things were. There’s no point in not breaking it off. 

He scoffs. “Don’t you think I’d kill myself the minute I felt something in me shift?”

You know Megumi. He doesn’t say things just to say them. He means it, every word, and you don’t know why, but it makes the part of you that longs for him — the part of you that is always in a constant state of wanting him, needing him — intensify. Multiply. Takes over your whole entire system until you are reduced to a being whose hunger can only be satiated by Megumi. 

“Idiot. You always go to the extremes.” You opt for saying this, instead of commenting on the fact that Megumi is very much implying that he would rather end his own life rather than take yours. 

“Do you really think I’d ever want to hurt you?” And suddenly, you realize that the two of you are no longer discussing the current matter at hand. Like with all things that involve the both of you, the root of the problem always leads back to your engagement. He was meant to be the one you married, and then he refused the Zenin name, refused most of the traditional jujutsu society, and when it came down to his freedom or you, he—

—gave you the option to choose. 

Him or comfort. Him or safety. Him or family. 

You didn’t realize it at the time, but all choices lead to him. He is the one you are most comfortable with, he is the one who would die to keep you safe, he is the one who you could see yourself creating a happy family with. As happy as a family can be in this fucked up society. 

He hurt you, but it was you who handed him the blade. You, who took his wrist and guided it straight to your heart. Just looking at him right now reopens that old wound. 

“The curse can only change you if there’s love to destroy.” You point out.

“I know.” He says. “Lucky that it didn’t get to me. It would have ended badly for the both of us.”

[glamourscat]

heyy, would you possibly do dick and / or jason nsfw alphabets??👀

JASON TODD NSFW ALPHABET

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aftercare with Jason is perhaps even more intense than sex. It’s quiet at the start, his hand is reaching for you. Gently caressing your hip, then your belly and your stomach. Soaking in the quietness of the moment as you calm down from the adrenaline of the moment. His caresses would turn into soft kisses and mutual praises, perhaps a warm bubble bath too.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I would say for his thighs. Despite having a complicated relationship with and what his body has turned into, I think, he would truly enjoy his thighs. Especially seeing you riding them.

On his partner, everything. No, I am not exaggerating. He is the type to lose absolutely all. I do believe he has an aesthetic attraction more prone towards muscular and plus size individuals. Belly, thighs, boobs you name it. He is on it lol

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I truly believe he has a breeding kink and i have nothing else to add

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

…. Hear me out… pegging. LISTEN, I feel when he truly has found his partner all barriers come down. There's nothing more he wants than to be in love and to share his love equally back. He wants to feel safe and once he is secure enough rest assured he won't be shy with his needs and wants. PLS his pretty noises while his eyes roll back? Praising him? Damn it

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very experienced but is an eager and fast learner 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Good old missionary but especially a fan of cowgirl and doggy

G = Goofy (are they more serious at the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Not at first. The first few times, and a while after that, he will be pretty serious. Maybe even intense for how emotional the moment is. But as time goes by he would soften up, not to crack jokes, but a few giggles and laughs would for sure come through

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I would say he has some hair. I hc that after the pit his hair grows faster than normal ish, or at least, faster than they used to. He has a happy trail and moderate hair down there that he keeps cut but not completely shaved off

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Struggles with intense emotions but when he manages to work with them, rather than against them, his hopeless romantic side comes out. Expect deep yet soft thrusts, moans that make your shine tingle, kisses that leave you breathless and at least 4 mind blowing orgasms

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I don’t see him as the type to need it constantly. I feel it would be more or so a “hmm i haven't done it in a while and now thinking about it made me horny lets do it”

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Like i have said pegging, also praise– heavy on this one– biting, breeding kink, edging and not sure if there's a name for it, but i think he would be into being obnoxiously loud with the intent of being heard especially if he is feeling extra spicy

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bed or shower/bath

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. just you. But i feel he would also get off when you two are having friendly back and forth banter/challenges

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that can hurt the both of you and restrain on him

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He is a giver, he will literally eat you out like a starved man. But, there’s also something he can’t deny, about you, on your knees giving the most sloppy bj he has ever received it keeps him going

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

A mix. Mostly slow and deep, with a few hard thrusts. Extremely sensual on other occasions. Mostly, he will keep a pace stable enough to make you moan his name so many times your throat will be sore after

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not a fan

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Nope, i can’t see him being a big risk taker. Sure, he likes to keep things interesting as he runs on adrenaline– but that's in his vigilante life. In his private life he wants nothing but comfort

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Yeah, a few lol. There would be breaks in between, a snack or two. You two talking, and in a way it almost feels like an aftercare in itself

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He wouldn’t necessarily own some but if you do, then once you move in together they become of the both of you. Especially vibrators or dildos, I feel he would be a fan of watching you taking care of yourself before he starts… or, hear me out, gifting you a dildo that resembles his dick in shape, size and girth.. Custom made? Maybe… 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A TEASE. It’s funny yeah, until you do it back and all of the sudden he is turned into the most whiny, moaning mess you have ever seen

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not very loud, at start. A few grunts, maybe some moans will escape here and there. As the relationship progresses though, he will grow bolder. Unashamed of his moans as he keeps thrusts in you. Praising you mixed with some filthy words in between

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

After the first time you two had sex he cried, in fact, he cried while he came. It just happened. Maybe it was the wave of emotions, maybe it was how intense everything felt. But he did. He hid his face in your neck, pampering it with kisses as he tried to hide his teary eyes. But when you eventually noticed, he couldn't help but cry a bit more. Now, you two laugh about it, even though it’s something that still embarasses him to this day 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

When erected it can reach 7 inches solid. Veiny, thick. Have I mentioned the happy trail already? 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not astronomical. He will feel the need every so often, but he won’t be on you 24/7. In fact I can see him going for weeks without it. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not fast. After aftercare and making sure you’re fine, talking, a snack and waiting for you to fall asleep; he will stay awake a while longer. Allowing himself to soak in this feeling of contentment, safety and peace. His eyes linger on your naked, sleepy form beside him and with a last kiss to your head he will fall asleep hugging you tightly against his body. 

[prettyboykatsuki]

I NEED YOU EXCITED, I DON'T WANNA FIGHT IT | Y. OKKOTSU

✵ tags ; established relationship, friends to lovers, afab +fem!reader, forward!reader, back and forth power dynamics, dry-humping, hickies / marking, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, riding. fingering, dirty talk, 18+

✵ wc ; 7.3k (good lord)

✵ a/n ; written with my beloved @princess-okkotsu in mind!! i hope i did your boy justice </3 and thank u for everything literally wouldn't have passed chem w/o you

so not used to have such little warnings on a fic. lol. title is from fire and desire by drake.

✵ synopsis ; yuta wants to do right by you which is why he's so determined to take your relationship slowly. well, he tries too, anyway.

Yuta Okkotsu is a believer of doing things the right way. 

He repeats this to himself like a mantra as he hangs out alone in your bedroom. He closes his eyes, elbows resting on the little table, face buried in his palms. Maybe it’s closer to a form of manifestation - like if he says it with enough hooplah it will mean something more than a jumble of words and syllables. 

He must clarify that he is trying to do the right thing right now. He is trying so very hard to do the right thing because Yuta Okkotsu wants to remain righteous where possible. 

It’s part of his job as a sorcerer, now well into his 20’s and more conscious of the world around him. He’s strong enough to put his money where his mouth is and experienced enough to know that trying to maintain some ethical code is part of staying alive in this business. 

And it’s not that Yuta considers himself particularly upright. His friends and colleagues often tell him that he’s a bit unhinged and hard to get a read on. His morals might not always align with greater society, but he never does something that goes against his own beliefs. A lot of which can be summarized quite easily ; anything to defend his comrades.

It really is so important for Yuta to try and be civil in these aspects. Lest he fall into something truly dark. Even he knows what he’s capable of, at least a little. 

That’s why he’s left with no choice than burying all of his thoughts of you and using every ounce of energy he has to suppress it as deep as it can go 

You know, with all the love that’s influenced his life and all of the years he’s spent  learning to be less timid - none of it seems to matter when it comes down to you and him. The logistics of a relationship and the idea of one are two very different things. When it comes to your relationship, he’s been keen in adhering to his strict timeline of milestones. First date, first hand-holding, first deep kiss. It’s a matter of honoring you - because before being boyfriend and girlfriend, you were Yuta’s comrade and companion. Before your relationship status, you're his cherished and valued person. 

So because he’s chivalrous. Because he’s romantic. Because he cares about you. 

And also because the sheer  magnitude of his desires for you perpetually leaves him in a state of distress and disarray. It’s all of the above, all at the same time. And sometimes it leaves him a little overwhelmed. 

He barely manages in his daily life but this? This is torturous. 

Being in your bedroom unprompted is destroying every ounce of self-restraint he’s built through these last three months. He’s made it through your relentless bullying without giving into his Earthly desires.

It’s just too ideal in a way, being in here. Everything feels like you. There’s pictures of your friends and family around the room. Everything has your scent. Your clothes are littered on the floor and hung over the back of your desk-chair. It’s so you and Yuta loves you and he’s not going to survive being in here despite it all.

It’s embarrassing. Yuta is not the timid teenager he once was. But for all the ways he’s good at standing his ground, his demeanor is all but worthless when it comes down to you.

You’re a few years his senior and you’ve always been a slippery character. He’s enriched by your curiosity of the world. You’re a researcher and archivist of cursed information, coming out of the Kyoto branch. You have plenty of accolades and always manage to teach him something new and come out of difficult things on top. 

Mostly, Yuta recognizes all of the good in your heart. He really thinks very highly of you.

There was an obvious passion for your work that Yuta was endeared by in the initial stages of your relationship. Plus you were easy to talk to. You’ve been a good friend to Yuta for years now, ever since you called on him to do some research on him and Rika. And, as the years passed you became closer until one night it hit him that his feelings of admiration were a little closer to something like love. 

And with big, wet tears in his eyes (and a fair bit of liquor in his system) he blubbered about his feelings for you. He isn’t sure what reaction he was expecting at the time. You were happy which was great, but there was also something so lax about it all. Yuta remembers it so vividly. The way you waltzed up to him, tucked some hair behind his ears and kissed him gingerly with all the confidence in the world. Like it mattered but it didn’t. Like nothing could be more obvious than your feelings for each other. 

“I’m pretty crazy about you too, Okkotsu-san.” 

After asking if that meant you were dating like the bumbling, lovesick fool he is - you officially began going out as a couple. And at first, it was smooth sailing. It wasn’t too different from your usual hangouts.

Eventually though, you had pointed out that it doesn’t really feel like you were dating. Suggested that maybe sleeping together would help break the ice a little. That was what started this moral dilemma. 

Being honest, it wasn’t like Yuta hadn’t considered it. What thoughts he cooked up while alone in the sanctity of his bedroom is between him and the heavens only. It was just the way you suggested it. You saying it made it all feel so real. And Yuta wasn’t sure how to deal with that. He wants to cherish you so much that he felt like he couldn’t consider your offer too lightly. 

And he told you as much, hand in yours and red-faced to which you only blew some hair out of his eyes and laughed. A simple okay, a nod, and a kiss.

Of course, if everything had been smooth sailing this would be a different thing altogether. While Yuta had declined sleeping with you too soon, you had absolutely no plans to make his life easy. He’s not sure how much of it is on purpose. Knowing you, probably a lot. You’re a smart girl, after all.

So all of your bending over and tongue kissing before going home and selfies that just border on boudoir are probably very purposeful. But he’s endured it all. He should cherish you more. He’s been determined to not give in. 

The fact he’s all but ready to blow his load over just being in your room makes him feel pathetic. And maybe he is, a little. But only for you. 

Yuta likes to think of himself as a collected individual. Really.  He knows being this worked up over something as innocuous as his girlfriends room is ridiculous. He knows he’s being ridiculous.

But he really, really wants to uphold his beliefs here. So he’s stiff, sitting with his hands clasped and holding it together just barely. 

He practically jumps out of his skin when you return to your room with a tray of refreshments. 

“Woah, Yuta. You okay?”

He turns around to look at you. A mistake, apparently. His eyes land on the sight of your bare legs before he forces himself to meet your eyes. You’re so pretty to him. Always so beautiful without any effort. 

“Huh? Yeah. Sorry, just got lost in thought.”

You put the tray down on the table in front of him before sitting on the edge of your bed - facing him. The distance between you is minimal. You reach out to pet the top of his head with the palm of your hand, scratching his jaw tenderly. Yuta feels loved by the touch. 

“You sure? Looks like you saw a ghost.”

Your genuine worry makes his spine feel like it’ll melt. He puts his hands over yours, rubbing his cheek against your palm.

“Promise I’m okay. Just—it's nothing serious.” 

“Mm. Even if it’s nothing serious, I wanna know what stuff you’re worried about, ‘kay? So tell me if you want.”

He feels unsteady but so happy. 

“Thank you, my love.”

“Yeah, of course. You wanna keep sitting on the floor or…?”

The minute you ask him, he feels the hair stand up on his neck. 

“The bed…?”

You give him a look of confusion before you break out into a knowing grin.

“Oh, I forgot. I mean to remain chaste, my liege. Just wanna cuddle a bit.”

“Are you making fun of me?” He asks, not masking the pout in his voice. 

You tilt your head to one side, leaning  back on your palms. 

“A little,” You say mischievously, shrugging “I’m used to your lifestyle of celibacy.” 

He frowns at you. “It’s not like that, I just want to—“

“I just want to cherish you because I love you and want you for more than sex yadda yadda yadda. I know. And I respect your wishes even if I think it’s silly.” You say, taking the words right out of his mouth. His frown deepens.

“It’s not silly to me.” He says, almost petulantly. At this, you grab his face in your hands which catches him off-guard. You knock your forehead against his, bent over to do it. 

“I know that too, you dummy. The point is that I’m not trying to get in your pants right now.”

He can’t help but smile, pulling away to kiss at your wrist. You giggle. 

“Well, what do you want?”

“To be wrapped up in each other like otters.”

“So romantic.”

“Right? So get up here.” 

He gives in sooner rather than later. You scoot till your back is along the wall next to your bed and Yuta wastes no more time in joining you. Your bed is crazy comfortable. Just laying it in makes him want to fall asleep almost immediately. He gets cozy  before directing his gaze to you in front of him. He feels like he’s gonna throw up and the only thing that’ll come out is his heart. You give him a look of amusement. 

“Enjoying the view?” You tease. He laughs, leaning forward to tuck his face into your neck.

“Yeah. Smells like you,” 

“So cute.” 

“Don’t know how to feel about being called cute.” He says honestly. He peers up at you and you’re giggling and he can feel his heart rate sky-rocket. You twirl a piece of his hair around your index finger. 

“You’re cute and cool and handsome. Better?” 

“Yeah. Yes.” 

“Mm,” You respond. He looks at you as your expression drifts off somewhere. He can’t take his eyes away from your face “Sorry you had to stay over.” 

“It’s fine. It’d be a shame if you didn’t get anything to look over while we were there. If you make any breakthroughs, it’d be good for Gojo-sensei.” 

“You still call him that even though you graduated so many years ago?”

He flushes slightly. 

“Force of habit. My point stands.” 

“Mhm. Thanks for being so supportive. I didn’t think it was that late, y’know? I would’ve tried to hurry if I knew,” You say thoughtfully “But I like having you over.” 

He gives you a once over as he pulls away, eyes flitting to your lips. You give him a small grin. 

“Kiss me.” 

He looks at you apologetically. 

“That’s not fair. We can’t kiss? Making out doesn’t count as intimate relations, Yuta.” 

“Okay, but it can lead to them.” 

“If it’s that serious, I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

“Wait, no.” 

“Then kiss me.” 

He sighs. 

“Just kissing, okay?” 

“Okay, you monk.” 

He laughs at the comment before pressing his lips to yours tenderly. You have no such intent of leaving it that way - your hand on immediately on the nape of his neck. The softness of your tongue makes Yuta feel like there’s fizz in his head - like the water inside of him is seltzer. He thought you would at least try to give him some mercy. 

He probably shouldn’t expect that from his favorite girl. He pulls away, out of breath. A little line of saliva breaks off between you. Your grin is eye-catching, like glass in the sun. Yuta wouldn’t mind burning in the magnitude of your light. 

“Just kissing,” He emphasizes, trying to be firm. You hum, hand on his cheek. You rub your thumb on his lip tenderly, looking at him square in the eyes. He’s stronger than this, he swears. 

“We are just kissing though?” 

“Baby.” He frowns. A laugh bubbles up from your stomach and he’s so entranced by it he nearly forgets what he’s trying to convince you of. 

“Since when is making out too naughty? Teenagers do stuff like that, Yuta. We’re grown-ups.” 

“That’s the whole problem.” He says back in faux exasperation. You look like you’re going to kiss him again, but you lean into his ear instead. Your breath is warm and ticklish against his skin. 

“Yuta,” You murmur with such clear intent he feels himself break down under the weight “Can’t we have sex, hm?” 

Blood rushes down to his dick so fast he’s embarrassed. He stares at you as you pull away, a look  in your eyes that makes him want to collapse. Of course he does. He wants to have so much sex with you so often it’s starting to drive him up a wall. Is there anyone in the world other than him masochistic enough to turn down the offer? He’s doubtful to say the least. 

“I want to,” He admits. You beam and nod. Your hand slides down to squeeze his waist. He swallows thickly. 

“Yeah? Then why can’t we?” 

“I just..don’t want to rush things,” He replies with as much conviction as he possibly can. The sincerity must reach you because you soften a little “We’ve known each other for a long time. And it was already hard to get here. I just want to make sure it’s right.” 

“You’re so thoughtful,” You murmur to him, running over his hip bone with your thumb “And that makes you really sexy, you know?” 

“What if it gets all messed up?” 

“Our relationship is stronger than that, yeah. It can withstand a handjob.” 

He groans at your vulgarity before laughing. 

“I’m being serious!” 

“I know and that’s so sweet of you. But I really, really don’t think it’ll be that bad if we have sex. We might fuck like rabbits for a few days but that’s not really the end of the world.” 

He feels heat creep up his next as you nuzzle your nose against his, whispering softly. 

“And doesn’t that sound nice? Cooped up in this little room, fucking each others brains out. Just you and me.” 

He feels his dick steel against his will. He looks at you seriously, a fire in his expression. 

“You’re being unfair.”  

“Who, me? Never. I’m just telling you what I think.” 

He groans in complaint. Is this the right thing to do? He doesn’t think so. But it’s not like he doesn’t want to. He really, really wants to have sex and there’s never been such a perfect opportunity. You’re a little too good at turning him on and he’s a little too pent up to think about it more clearly. It feels like the only thing he can think about, a side-effect of this whole conundrum. There is a right way to go about this and he can’t say for certain yours isn’t the one. 

Plus the vivid picture you’ve painted of the two of you fucking in a room for hours is making his whole body burn up with lust. Fuck, the things he could do to you in all that time without it ever being enough. 

Yuta didn’t know he was aching for you so badly until he was this close to having you. 

“Baby,” He can feel how deep his voice is getting. It’s taking all of his strength to keep it in. 

“How do you want me? Tell me. You’ve been thinking about me right?”

“Always,” He confesses, staring at you without any restraint “Always thinking of you.”  

“Doing what?”

Oh. This is… 

Oh.

“I’ve never seen you naked.”

“Then you daydream about seeing me naked? How tame.” 

“It’s more than that, it’s—I want to make you feel good. You’re so good to me. And I wanna…”

You stare at him. You’re so cheeky. 

“You wanna?”

“Want you to feel good. But because of me. All because of me.”

A wave of heat passes through him. He looks at you and you look...different. You look turned on, fingers carding through his hair. Right now all Yuta can think about is how much he wants. A word with so much weight behind it he can hardly keep up. God doesn’t Yuta want you more than he’s ever wanted anything. 

The room feels like it’s hotter than it was a few seconds last. A thick tension spreads over everything like jam. Yuta is too dazed to do anything. He can only watch as you sit up. You guide him to lay on his back and climb on top of him with ease. Your thighs feel warm and soft as you straddled him, taking his hands to put them on your waist.

He slides them up underneath your shirt lightly, enough to feel the warmth of your skin on his calloused fingers. Your eyes lock as you lean forward the slightest bit, caging Yuta in with your hand next to his head. 

“So possessive,” You tease, seeing right through him like you usually do. He really is. He thought he was a little better at hiding it “Already all yours, Yuta.” 

That makes his dick twitch. You must feel it because you laugh at him about it and his hands grip even tighter. He’s gonna lose his mind, being swept up by you so easily. He’s gotten so used to forfeiting restraint. Always goes in head first because that’s how cowards have to learn to fight. But he’s forgotten how to hold back. How to suppress. 

Right now, he feels like an animal. He feels like a restless hound dog, straining against the spiked collar he’s tried to keep himself in place. What does that make you, he wonders? 

In an attempt at transparency, he looks at you and says “I want you so much.”

And your reply is about all the permission he needs. 

“Then take me,” 

Yuta heeds your words and takes. It’s easy to flip you both over from where you are. He mumbles an apology as you yelp in surprise - and he hopes you’ll forgive him for his impatience. He’s been picturing this for months now. He knows what he wants, and that’s you on your back with him on top of you - making you feel so fucking good you can’t stand it. He slots his legs between yours, hovering over you as your bodies press into each other. 

You wrap your arms around Yutas neck with ease and he leans in to kiss you passionately. Despite where you are, it’s clear you're helping set the pace. Yuta is eager to follow. It starts off slow enough but when you pull away once, you're opening your mouth enough to let him in deeper. You stick your tongue out and Yuta follows suit. Everything is so hot he feels like it’ll burn, and you taste like mint toothpaste. He likes swapping spit with you like this, the messy way the drool runs down his chin and yours like you can’t get enough for each other. 

He has no idea how long you stay like that. Just kissing is a dangerous game. The nip of your mouth and the press of your incisors in his lower lip leave him shuddering. His hard cock is pressed against your abdomen, and he can’t help himself but hump into the soft plush of your tummy. Even through the stiff material of his jeans he can feel you. 

He quivers and whimpers into your mouth but you swallow the noise with delight. Your fingers find themself at the nape of his hand reaching up, tugging at the root. You pull away to give him a chance to breathe. He sounds pathetic, he knows it, but fuck he can’t hold it in anymore. Your voice is cool and collected yet rich and heady. It feels like a salve to his raw nerves, calming to him. He closes his eyes and humps into you and everything feels like it’ll disappear. Yuta just wants to give into his base needs. He wants to be all yours as much as he wants you to be all his and everything is so tangled up in his mind. 

“That feel good, Yuta?” 

“Y-yeah. Yes. Oh, yes.” 

You giggle at him a little and Yuta looks up at you. Look at the swell of your lips and the flush and sheen on your skin. Too much, too much, too much. 

But not enough at the same time, he rubs his cock against you again, harder. 

“So pent up,” You comment smoothly and Yuta groans in agreement “Why don’t I help you a little?” 

Unsure of what you mean, he stares at you hazily. You push him off, making him stand to his knees and he watches you as your hands come to the ends of your shirt. You pull it off over your head and toss it somewhere. You have nothing on underneath. His mouth dries out almost completely. Bare skin of your shoulders and the curve of your neck and your chest so open. Your nipples are hard against the cool air, standing to attention.

Your b0dy is so much sexier than he could’ve conjured up in his head. The real thing doesn’t even compare, and the way you move as you take off the rest is so fucking mesmerizing. Yuta watches you take off your pants next -  you put your legs up to slide them off. 

There’s not a single part of you that Yuta doesn’t want to claim for himself. He traces the outline of your legs, the bend of your knee and the arch of your foot. He should worship you, after all - he was right for trying to restrain it before. If he had this in the beginning, he’s afraid of what kind of person he might become. He’s scared of it even now.

 Yuta is of course the type of man to get sick on his own devotion. He’s always been like that. That’s what the rings on his hands always mean. He wants to make himself sick on you. 

Nothing could be more intense than just watching you undress, he doesn't think. You toss your shorts somewhere, but leave your panties on. Yuta still has his clothes on. The only barrier between you now is a thin layer of cotton. There’s a damp spot on it. He can’t stop his hand from reaching out, pressing into it with his thumb as gently as he can. You gasp. His eyes go wide. 

“It’s okay,” You assure, a smile on your face “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

He hums, dumbstruck, and smooths his thumb over the seam. There’s something salacious about the boundary itself. The material that’s keeping him from just taking you. 

“C-can you leave them on..? For a bit?” He asks. You blink twice. Even if you’re confused, there’s not any judgment. Yuta really does love you. 

“Uh-huh. If you want me too,”  

You give him the floor this time, Yuta thinks. He takes his shirt off too. He doesn’t take his jeans off completely, though. Only unzips them, pushing them down past his boxers to give him some breathing room. And with that he’s back on top of you. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips but moves down towards your jaw. The little fluttery sigh that leaves you makes everything close in around him. Like it’s only you two in the entire world. He leaves them down your neck, down your collarbone and sternum. Warm open mouth kisses trying all over every inch of you. 

His hands shake as he reaches out for your chest. You chuckle and reach for him. Guide them to squeeze your tits firm, a cheeky look in your eye. He tries to take more confidence in it now. Gropes the fat between his fingers, palms over your nipples in appreciation. He’s entranced by it, pushing them together and teasing the hardened buds with the pads of his fingers.

“So pretty,” He mumbles, mostly to himself “You’re so pretty,” 

“You’re pretty too, Yuta.” 

He can feel a blush crawl up his skin. He ducks his head down to take your nipples into his mouth. You let out a soft moan of pleasure that encourages him to suck harder on one and use his fingers to tease you where his mouth can’t reach. Your sighs are shaky and you're gently losing your composure.

 He wants to shatter you completely. 

He grabs your thighs and encourages you to wrap your legs around his waist. And you do with his guidance, a well of desire about to burst within him. He adjusts until his cock is snug against your clothed cunt. A broken oh, leaves your lips and Yuta humps into you, shifting until he hits the sweet spot. Your voice sounds again, pitchy and melodic like a wind chime and that’s when Yuta knows he has it. 

He has you right where he wants you now. Bodies pressed into each other and so involved, so together. Yuta can feel you everywhere. He’s always been in sync with you but every notch is turned to ten. The shallow rise and fall of your stomach, the slightest tenseness in your spine that melt away when he gives you a little attention. He has you in his grasp but he wants to hold onto you tighter. He feels like he’s been struck by lightning, the way his nerves are revved up.

He focuses on where your lower bodies meet, tongue poked between his lips and furrow in his brow. Drives his clothed, hard cock against your cunt, catching the crown into your clit until you’re shaking underneath him. There’s something so primal about it that Yuta can’t take it. He can’t think clearly anymore, lost in the feeling of dull pleasure. If it feels so good like this, being inside you might be too much. You’re both naked mostly except for where you both need each other. So close in proximity that Yuta can hear each of your short pants. Erratic and almost thoughtlessly driven by one single thing, pleasing you. Feeling each other, all wrapped up together. There’s something romantic about the mutual desperation. 

Drawing out those moans as he sucks at your tits, making you feel how hard he is. How pent up and needy and fucking horny he is all for you. 

Just humping your soft, sweet little cunt through your panties makes Yuta want to risk everything he’s got. The push and pull of too much and  not enough at the same time.  It’s so fucking euphoric. Your fabric keeps wetter and wetter, and Yuta doesn’t know if it’s you or him - his pre-cum dribbling through his boxers. Mixing together so that there’s less friction than there should be, material all soaked through and tacky. 

He can feel your pussy pulse and tremble. Your spine goes stiff and Yuta pulls away to look at you. You’re beautiful. You’re on edge, in complete bliss and so fucking beautiful. 

“Oh, oh, Yuta - shit, like that. G-gonna, gonna,” 

He doesn’t know what overtakes him, but he babbles on pulling away. 

“Cum for me, please—fuck, baby, p-please, need it,” 

You cum the first time just like that. For Yuta, humping each other like two lovesick teenagers. All for him you get all broken. He can’t help but burn the image of you underneath in his head forever. He needs to see it all again. 

“Oh, that felt so fucking good,” The praise feels like it’s being injected into his bloodstream“You make me feel sho good,” 

The slight slur in your words and praise all together makes him too happy. He kisses you, sloppy and lovedrunk, tongues touching and teeth chattering. 

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” Yuta says with as much conviction as any one man could have. You laugh so loud it makes him smile. “I don’t wish well for anyone you dated before me.”  And you laugh again even louder. 

“You sound polite even when you’re threatening people.”  You say with nothing but affection. Yuta wants more. He wants you. Even with this quiet lull, he’s thinking about how he can get you to cum again. 

He nudges his nose to your cheek, kissing the corner of your mouth before he talks. 

“I want you to do it again,” He states, slow and steady, trying to feel out your willingness “And then I want to fuck you,”

“Wanna fuck me after you make me a mess?” You say, much more bluntly than he has. You’re not wrong “Are you a sadist after all, Yuta?”

“You look good when you’re messy. ‘s not my fault.” He replies, a little bite to his words. This delights you to the point he's proud. He does his best not to look uncool and this one time he’s succeeded. 

“Make a mess of me, Yuta,” You encourage, probably because you know he needs it. And he does “I want it.” 

“Yeah,” Comes his reply, as he pulls himself off of you “Me too,” 

The pace slows down now. The room smells of sex and Yuta can still feel the blood rushing in his ears but nothing so frantic. He lays you back, your legs undoing from behind him and resting. Yuta kisses your sternum first, a wave of emotion running through him. He puts his hands on your sides, sliding them down to meet your hips and squeezing tight. 

He kisses his down your body like it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. He can feel you curl in above him - not completely. But you seem a little astonished, and he'd be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel like he accomplished something. He works his way lower slowly, rubbing small circles into your skin as often as he can. Caressing you and committing your body to memory. He wants you to feel him as much as he’s feeling you, to feel his touch. The tension in the air is strengthened by his silence. 

If he were saying anything it’d be something like this. Like can you feel it? how much i love you? or i want all of you. Things he can’t often muster up the strength to say. He’s good with his words but not good enough to communicate all of it so bluntly. Yuta is brave in areas other than love. Sometimes your adoration makes all the words clog in his throat. This is better for him, the physicality brings him peace of mind. 

He likes how you feel. Your skin is much softer when he compares it to his, feels so different and more plush and comfortable. Yuta likes taking you in his hands and kneading the skin gently enough to relax you. Lower and lower, a trail of wet marks until he’s close to your clothed cunt. He stares at the sticky material, kissing it feather light before redirecting his attention to your thighs. 

He starts again, at the bend of your knee - and works his way inward. He’s rougher now, taking time to mark up your inner thigh with precision. Yuta can’t help himself, placing kisses in the last places his teeth bit you. He does it again and again, up along one thigh and then moving to the other until you’re covered in them. 

You’re trembling with anticipation. A sense of contentment washes over Yuta as his breath fans over your cunt, so completely soaked the fabrics a different color. His tongue runs over the material, a shameless moan of pleasure leaving his mouth. You arch your back, hands reaching to take root in his hair. The sensation of tension on his scalp makes his cock twitch. It’s salty and a little bitter, the mix of his pre-cum and yours altogether. Yuta goes to do it again anyway. The mess of it gets him excited, unconsciously rubbing into the sheets underneath him. 

“O-oh, Yuta.” 

He shivers, hands planing over the tops of your thighs as he brings him down close to him. 

“Yeah, yeah baby. Just me and you,” 

A soft laugh leaves your mouth. Yuta can feel how worked up you are. You’re quiet and tense. Some part of him wants to leave you like that waiting, but the other part of him wants to give you everything you’ve ever asked for. He gives into the latter, because that’s what he wants more. Rolls the fabric off of your legs with a deep sigh, a pleased hum. He loves the way you smell, the scent of sex and arousal mixed with the fancy soaps you keep in your bathroom. Your pussy is as pretty as you are, a sheen of arousal all along your slit. Your clit peeks through, swelled from need. Yuta kisses it without thinking. 

He starts slow. Lays his tongue flat against the seam of your cunt before dragging it up. The taste of you covers his mouth, tangy and slightly sweet - Yuta can’t get enough of you. He moans in appreciation, repeating the gesture as he pulls your pussy close. His nose bumps into your sex. He peers up at you with his lashes. You’re so pretty it makes him want to please. He repeats this over and over - licking at your clit with enthusiasm. Your clit is hard and needy, throbbing against the soft, smooth muscle of his tongue as he gains a sort of rhythm. He gauges your reaction when he tries something new, adding pressure until you’re squirming underneath him. When you start growing noisier, Yuta knows he’s hit the right pace. 

And he stays like that, your pussy soaking his mouth and chin. He adjusts himself slightly, rubbing his fingers between your folds. You let out a soft oh above him, making him want to laugh. He keeps at it, his fingers sliding far enough to tease your entrance. Your hole is twitching without him having done much at all, his middle finger teasing and prodding. 

“Don’t t-tease so much,”  You pant. 

Yuta nearly blows his load listening to you talk like that. He didn’t think you could be so cute. He listens though, pushing his middle finger into you with ease. It doesn’t take too much effort. Your insides are so incredibly wet for him. Your walls are so soft and inviting, syrupy to the touch. Yuta loves feeling them. He gives you time to adjust to the new sensation, fucking in and out slow enough that the tension melts. He gets knuckle deep with his middle finger and when it doesn’t seem like you’re tense anymore - he goes and adds another. 

He does both in tandem - and there’s a period where it’s all a bunch of sensation for you. Eventually it stops being just a feeling, turns into pleasure. He curls his fingers up against you hard, rubbing the soft and spongy area and he can feel you practically lurch forward. Your spine arches, mouth dropped open in a soft ‘o’. Another feeling of pride spreads through his chest, his whole body. He wants you to let go again just like this. While he fingers your weepy cunt and with your clit in his mouth - he wants to see how far he can push. How wet you can get before he ever gets inside. 

Yuta isn’t one for competition or ego. He’s always been easy-going. But something about you being underneath him like this, moaning for him like this - makes him feel like he should put in a little more effort to prove himself. He wants to make you feel so good, wants to see your composure break down steadily. He wants you praise him for it, to fuck each other like animals in the thereafter of your second orgasm. He pushes towards that goal steadfastly, and soon enough your body catches up with him. 

Yuta can practically feel your stomach tighten. You let out a noise, a string of mismatched syllables like a warning. Yuta only hums in encouragement, keeping his pace exactly the same. Feeling it is incredible. His fingers can feel the way your walls tighten up so hard and the tremors of the aftermath. 

Your back curves in a C as you cum, hard for him and he can feel it. He can feel you cum. He can see you, see the pleasure crash into you like a tidal wave. A second. Yuta made you cum twice in a row and he’s already itching to do it a third. 

You practically pry him off as you ride the wave of your high. You sigh deeply, and Yuta licks his fingers. He waits for your adoration, pleased to receive as you pull him up for a kiss. 

“You’re so fucking good, Yuta,” You say and Yuta feels his resolve crumble. He needs to fuck you immediately “So, so good to me baby.” 

He whimpers into your mouth. “I need you.”

You laugh breathlessly, your hand reaching between your bodies to squeeze his cock. Yuta shudders and you giggle to yourself. 

“Yeah. Bet you’re feeling pent up, Yuta. How about I treat you this time? That okay?” 

“Treat me?” 

“By riding you,” You say, smiling at him. He gets chills from the offer “You want that?” 

“Oh. Oh, fuck - please. Please?” 

You smile at him. 

“Lay on your back, sweet boy.” 

Sweet boy. He swallows thickly but does as you say. Lays back and watches you climb over him a second time tonight - this time with a much more obvious intent. He can’t stop thinking about how gorgeous he finds you - no matter how many times he sees you, it’s not easy to get used to. 

You sit up on his lap, naked and beautiful, your hangs tugging down his boxers just enough to free his cock. He hisses at the sensation of air, then moans because your hand squeezed around the shaft. Yuta watches, bewitched, by how you spit into the palm of your hands and let it drip down onto his cock. You stroke until he’s covered in it, saliva making a mess of him. When he’s all wet, you scoot forward just slightly. A hand ends up on his chest as you pull your hips up. 

Guiding the tip to your hole, you sink down on Yuta finally. He can only recognize loosely that there’s no condoms to be seen but he doesn’t find it in himself to care. There’s a slight sensation of tension that quickly gives away to nothing but slick, white-hot pleasure. You feel amazing. It’s not like anything he’s ever felt in his entire life and each time you drop down another inch - he’s biting his cheek trying not to cum immediately. That’d be such a waste, even if you’ve promised to fuck like rabbits - Yuta wants to make this last long. 

You lower yourself steadily until all of him is inside. Your expression is slightly pinched, and your whole body trembles before you finally seem comfortable. You lean forward, your hand next to Yuta’s head as you look at him. 

“Cum when you feel like you need to, ‘kay?” 

Yuta just swallows. 

Before he gets a chance to adjust to the feeling, you pick your hips and slam them back down on his cock without breaking a sweat. Yuta nearly screams, his hands immediately shooting to your hips to try and slow you down. You give him a wry grin, He almost wants to plead for your mercy. 

“Want me to go slower?” 

“Please be nice.” 

You giggle but heed his request. Repeating the motion but slower as promised, you rock yourself steadily onto Yuta’s cock. The pace is controlled and smooth, a rhythmic pass of your hips over and over. Your insides feel like they’ll melt him completely, make him liquid from the inside out. You’re picturesque riding him, tits bouncing and leaned forward enough that Yuta can see the concentration on your face. He watches you find your own pleasure in it too - somewhere half-way between grinding and bouncing that makes you look so good. He feels so incredible like this. 

He moves his hands so they’re grabbing your ass and only moves with you slightly. Not enough to change the pace, but to meet you. The room is filled with the sound of skin hitting skin - a tacky smack as your bounces hard enough to hit Yutas thighs. Something about is so vulgar, but something about is so sensual. He can feel every nerve in his body standing on edge. Your hand moves gently between your bodies to tease your clit as you ride and Yuta can’t help but be impressed by your stamina. He feels so spoiled. Feels so mind-numbingly good he wants to go brain dead while you drain for everything he’s got. 

Your expression is blissed out as you hit your stride, absolutely debauched. He can feel you again, another rush of arousal. He’s getting better at telling when you’re close. Your pussy is so sloppy all for him, because of him. So messy that it’s dripping down his cock onto his balls, all over the sheets underneath you. He can feel you clench in anticipation - the sudden spasming in the build up. 

“Gonna cum again and I want you cum right after me, yeah baby? Can you do that?” 

Yuta groans. 

“Pleasepleaseplease.” Is all he can make out. You laugh, breathy. Your pace is still the same as you rub your clit. The third time you cum is less intense. It’s a shorter wave, a softer sort of orgasm that seems to ease you more than it does anything else. Even still, you clench around his cock hard - getting so much wetter than you were a minute ago. 

It’s in the tremors that Yuta finally feels in touch with himself again. He loses himself completely. Finally giving into the sensation that’s been drowning him, He feels it in his entire lower body. Every atom of him finally catching up to the high of the release. It’s so intense when he opens his mouth nothing comes out. His eyes shoot open then go back closed. The coil in his stomach loosens more slowly at first than all at once, like a car crash. When Yuta finally cums he sees nothing but white stars in his vision. He can’t scream, can’t speak - so he holds onto you tight and finishes to the sound of your gentle coaxing. Your voice is shot hoarse as you coo to him.

“That’s it baby, cum for me. That’s it, there you go.” Echoes around in his head. Cum spurts out of him, thick and hot in your walls and he doesn’t even try to pull out as he goes completely limp underneath you. 

When he opens his eyes back up again, you're both just as ragged as each other. Yuta can’t stop himself from laughing. He hugs you tight to his chest as you lay on top of him - naked bodies and tangled limbs. 

“I love you,” Yuta says blearily. You laugh. 

“I love you too, Yuta.” 

__ 

After you and Yuta manage the energy to shower, you find yourselves back in bed. It’s late when you’re finally ready to sleep, being in the same positions you were before. Only this time with new sheets. 

Yuta lets you into his arms, wrapping them around you as you nuzzle into his chest. 

“So. Was it worth breaking your rules?” 

Yuta can’t help but break out into laughter at your question. He nods his head, a flush on his expression. 

“Yeah. Yeah it was.” 

[ivymarquis]

Happiness is a Butterfly

It's been literal months since I read @ceilidho's divorce AU and guess what it is still rattling around in my brain because it is just scrumptious.

This is what I vanished to work on lol

Pairing| John Price x F!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 10.6k Kinks/Content/Warnings| 3rd person reader, Post Divorce John Price x Wife!Reader, Attempting to co parent, John is obnoxiously agreeable until he no longer wants to be, there is the s l i g h t e s t mention where reader is worried John might snap but he doesn't scout's honor, squirting, unprotected PiV, blow job, face sitting, unplanned pregnancy, childbirth, reproductive coercion if you squint, baby trapping if you squint, it is a lil dubby because John doesn't do anything behind Reader's back but he steamrolls the fuck out of her into getting what he wants lmao

The words choke in her throat like they don’t want to leave. 

Maybe that’s a higher power giving her just one last out to change her mind- to not say the four words that will upend the lives of everyone in the household.

She can barely bring herself to look at him. 

In the decade they’ve been married his temper has never been something she’s been afraid of, but in that moment it is all she can think about; every headline she’s ever read of a soldier snapping and killing his wife and children floating in her mind like a neon sign flashing danger. 

She’s never feared his temper but she’s also never croaked out the words I want a divorce to him before either. 

Her arms cross over her body as her gaze settles a bit off to the side of him. Everything about her body language is closed off and cagey as he looks up from his desk- no doubt having been mentally preparing for another round of come to bed, love - in a minute darling, almost done only to be caught off guard by the actual request.

He doesn’t answer her as he sits back in his chair, looking at her.

She chooses now to choke out the words because she really doesn’t think she has it in her to say the words with him standing. He’s sitting- still imposing as ever even if he’s always been magnanimous around the house- and she’s on the other side of the room avoiding eye contact.

He stands, still silent as the grave, before walking towards her in slow, measured steps and coming to a halt right in front of her. The ground has become absolutely fascinating as she refuses to meet his gaze.

As his hand raises she imperceptibly starts to shift, but absolutely nothing escapes John’s notice. “Don’t,” he starts before clearing his throat, his tone softer as he speaks again, “Don’t do that. You know me better than that.”

This time she doesn’t move as he goes to cup her face- takes her chin in hand and forces her head up. “Look me in the eye and say it again.”

It takes a moment for her to scrape together her nerves, eyes picking up off the floor to meet his. She’s not sure entirely what she expected but she thinks she assumed there’d be more of a reaction. He’s watching her- thinking- as she stumbles over the words.

Doubt twists in her gut as once again she squeaks out “I want a divorce.”

“Is there someone else?” he asks evenly.

“No! John I’d never-” It’s true; ever since he’d turned her head all those years ago she’s been blind where other men are concerned.

“Okay,” he soothes with his thumb against her cheek and she’s suddenly aware that this is probably not how this conversation should be going. “I believe you. Are you sure this is what you want?”

She’s been agonizing over this for months. She’s not even sure what gauntlet was thrown down to make her say enough is enough and have today be the day. Nothing spectacular has happened.

Maybe that’s reason enough. His job is always just the higher priority. While he always ensures his family is cared for while away, he drops everything for work in a way that simply isn’t reciprocated at home. Even when he’s physically here he spends so much time locked in this damn office he might as well be back at base.

Nothing has changed after begging and pleading and she is tired with a bone weary ache.

Are you sure this is what you want? Echos in her head while he awaits an answer.

“Yes.” No. “I’m so tired of being alone,” she confesses. “I’m tired of constantly having to beg you to be here even when you’re home. If I am going to be by myself raising the boys then I just need to be by myself.”

He doesn’t seem surprised by the words in the slightest. Probably because they’ve been having the same argument for years. This is not the first time she’s been frustrated with his job.

“Okay,” she can’t believe her ears with his easy acceptance. “If this is what you want, then okay.”

She sobs- alone- in their bed like the entire situation isn’t her fault, burying her face in the bedding to stifle herself from the kids. John’s gone.

Everything goes about as smoothly as it can. John doesn’t fight her on anything. With his schedule there’s no point in ironing out a visitation schedule through the courts. They agree to just work it out when they can, given how he can be called away at a moment’s notice.

They’re adults. They can handle this.

Once her nerves settle from the initial shock of actually saying the words to him, and she’s had a few days to think on his reaction, she decides she’s pissed.

The easy acceptance ruffles her feathers in a way she can’t put to words. She gave him a decade of her life, a home, three children- has kept everything running seamlessly while he jumped in and out of their lives to answer the call of duty and he didn’t even try to fight for her.

If he was being sullen or grouchy with her it would be easier to process everything- all the things set into motion that she started.

Perhaps she’s projecting. But he just acts like nothing is amiss as he comes by to pick up the boys or drop them off or just stop by to spend time with them.

She wakes up on the 15th and right on time she is awoken by a ding from her phone.

Perhaps, she thinks, it is a lapse in judgment to kick him out for not being around, given that she’s now cut into what already little time he has to spend with them. Isn’t that the focus of her argument? That it’s too difficult for the boys?

Their boys- three of them, each one a head taller than the last- are understandably devastated and struggling to deal with very big, very complex feelings that result in major meltdowns and fights. They blame her and they’re not wrong.

Then one day, when old habits die hard and she confides in John tearfully one day as he’s returned from his latest deployment to see them, while she can’t say it stops all together she can say there’s a marked improvement when they come back. 

What did he tell them?

Her phone dings on the 1st like it always does every other week and her agitation is palpable.

She doesn’t even need to look at the notification. 

John isn’t missing a beat this entire time and he’s driving her crazy. 

The notification is from the bank, of an entirely too large deposit to an account that only she has access to. John’s name is not on it and he can’t touch anything in it. 

He can however put money in it.

He is as steadfast and agreeable as always while stubborn enough to just bulldoze into getting his way.

She knows she should be grateful. That so many ex husbands abandon their children and former wives in favor of some shiny new girlfriend. That it would be so easy for him to throw her “if I'm going to be by myself then I'm going to be by myself” back in her face. 

Her career had been put on hold with the boys. When everyone was older and in school and didn’t need her so much the plan had been to go back. And then John had kept putting babies in her and the timeline got pushed further back with the subsequent births of their two youngest children. 

It would have been so easy for him to tell her to just figure it out herself, that this is what she wants and she can navigate life on her own just fine. 

Instead he deposits entirely too much money into an account he can’t access. 

She’s not sure why today is different, but she hits her limit and calls him. They’ve never actually spoken about his little transactions.

“You alright, then, love?” She remembers deciding to pick her battles and not harp that she’s not his love anymore. 

“What are you doing?”

There’s a brief pause.

“…I’m on base? About to take my lunch, actually. Maybe you can -“ she cuts him off before he can get any further. 

“I’m not calling to ask about your day and you know it,” she snaps irritably. “I’m asking about the deposit. What are you doing?”

John, once upon a time, used to tease about his spoiled, hot headed wife. She knows she is being the epitome of spoiled and ungrateful but come on- no one is this agreeable about a divorce. She doesn’t trust it. 

“I have no idea what you mean, love.” He assures her good naturedly. 

“You have no idea how several thousands have been deposited into my account?”

She wants to reach through the phone to strangle him when she hears that even tempered laugh of his. 

“I know how the money got deposited, love- I did it myself. I don’t know why you’re questioning my motives. We both know you haven’t worked outside the home in years- you need money to keep everything going.”

“John, it's too much. I know you know how much I spend in a month!”

He sighs. She can picture him sitting at his desk on base. Sprawled out in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation.” He responds evenly. “The plan wasn’t for you to go to work until the youngest one’s in school next year. You’ve been out of the market for years, I can only imagine an employer trying to use that to short change you.”

He lets out a sigh, and she feels something akin to guilt for freaking out on him.

John’s always been the one to make the best out of a shit situation. To try to steady the boat in the storm. Even when his own wife (ex wife) is the one making waves. 

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation,” he repeats. “I just want you to be able to raise the boys comfortably without worrying about making ends meet.”

The something coils tighter in her gut. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he assures her and once again she has to bite back a not your sweetheart anymore. 

“Now,” there’s the slightest shift to his tone and feels herself falling back into old habits again. As keyed in to him as a dog awaiting her master’s command. “What I was going to say earlier- I’m about to take my lunch. I would appreciate it if you could bring me the boys. I’d like to see them today.”

She can’t very well tell him no now can she?

The boys are her heart and soul but she sees them for exactly who they are- three rambunctious little spitfires always up to something. Good boys, but curious and mischievous. The curse of having smart children. 

Until they’re on base at least. All three are quiet as church mice, gathered behind their mother and peering at the soldiers from behind her skirt. 

She can’t truly correct the guards at the gate when they greet her as Mrs. Price- she hasn’t changed her name and isn’t sure if she’s going to. 

It’s not hers anymore, but it’s still her boys’ name and things are easier. She’d likely have to retrain herself to respond to her maiden name. 

The boys are hot on her heels until they stumble across John- as soon as he sees them, dropping a knee with open arms the trio are off like a shot as peals of “Daddy!!” fill the air. 

“You can just call me after you’ve finished lunch and I can come get them,” she states amicably, watching John as he wrangles the three of them. The sooner she can get out of here, the better off she’ll be (because God help her, watching him with their oldest two was how she ended up pregnant with the third, and watching him with them now just makes her yearn for something she no longer has any claim to).

Immediately the three boys are protesting, albeit not quite as vocally as they normally would.

“Mummy, no!” “Mum!” “But it’ll be fun!” the trio state their cases to varying degrees.

John shushes the three of them gently to keep them from winding up too much before turning to her. “Come on now, sweetheart, for old time’s sake, hm?”

Their little three stooges voice their approval of that idea, chiming in with various degrees of “Yeah!”

Ultimately it’s the desire to keep her children complacent that has her agreeing. She doesn’t want a scene.

Unfortunately, a (albeit mild) scene is what she ends up having anyway.

She knows (is hopeful, at least) that her oldest doesn’t mean anything by it while they’re waiting for their food and asks “So what time are we going to nana’s later?”

Her eyes snap to him about the same moment as John’s snaps to her, and she’s deliberately trying to avoid his gaze.

Why, oh why, could he not have asked either before or after lunch?

“We’ll probably get ready after we go back home.” she’s careful to keep her tone neutral.

“How fun,” Ah shit, she can hear the suspicion in John’s voice. “Any reason in particular, or just a fun weekend?”

“Just for the night. Mum’s picking us up tomorrow. Right Mum?”

The server chooses that moment to bring their food, which gives her a moment to figure out how the fuck she’s gonna weasle out of this conversation.

“Yes, I’ll come get you after breakfast.”

“Could have called me.”

“That didn’t seem appropriate. They’ll be fine with my mum.” Her gaze drops to her plate, knowing full well if she looks up that his eyes will lock on hers.

“Don’t see what’s inappropriate about me watching my own kids.”

It’s not that she’s happy to squabble with John where the kids have a front row seat, but there is a dark part of her that delights in watching him. He has been obnoxiously agreeable this entire time and the cracks are showing. It makes her feel like she’s dealing with another human being, because she knows she’s got her moments where she loses her mind during all of this and it’s beyond frustrating that he is so dauntless no matter the circumstances in every situation.

“It’s not-” Jesus, does she tell him? What does that conversation look like? “I have plans tonight.”

John is not a stupid man and she can see the moment he realizes she’s not planning a girl’s night out for herself.

That she hadn’t thought it appropriate to ask him to take the kids so she can go on a date with another man.

“I’m watching them,” he asserts before returning to his plate. 

“John-”

“I said I’m watching them,” his tone is softer, but leaves no room for argument. Conversation over.

There’s nothing wrong with her date. He is well mannered and polite, attentive when she speaks. No obvious red flags- he doesn’t dismiss her stories, doesn’t shirk back at the mention of her three children, isn’t rude to the server and isn’t texting on his phone opposed to actually engaging with her. 

There is nothing wrong with him and for an idle moment she pictures what her could have been like had she married a man like him instead of John. The 9-5, the set routine, the security and reliability of knowing that he is coming home at his regular time and he’ll be there for the boys various sports and activities. 

And yet all she can think of is John, who is sitting in their home, watching their children. Of the late night returns from deployment where they’d have their stolen alone time- quiet as church mice so as not to wake the boys who most assuredly would not be going back to sleep if they knew their father was home. 

Of the delighted squeals of their children when they come into the room to wake her for breakfast only to find him in bed like nothing was amiss. 

(And yes there was always the heartbreak that followed him walking out the door, the anxiety between phone calls that would brew until she once again could assess that he is alive and not dying blown to bits on the other side of the world)

There is nothing wrong with her date but he is not John, and that is an obstacle he will never be able to overcome.

She is safely deposited on her doorstep with polite pleasantries. She thinks he knows, has a kind smile and understanding eyes as she carefully tells him I’m sorry, I thought I was ready but I don’t think I am.

Someone will recognize him as a catch but John never let go of the hold on her heart. Someone will want this man but all she wants is John. 

It’s not as late as she thought it would be when she comes home- a fact that John immediately comments on when her eyes land on him while searching for him.

“Well that didn’t last long.” The air feels different from before she left home, and she stands stock still as he rises off the couch and strides towards her.

“I,” she starts and stops, choking on the words. Why the hell did she ever agree to letting him babysit again?

Yes he’s the father of her children and yes she wants him to spend time with them whenever possible but this is just so incredibly awkward for her. 

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again,” she finishes lamely. 

“I would imagine not, if the date ended that quickly. We were always out for hours, weren’t we sweetheart?”

She can’t quite get a read on him but the entire tone of the conversation is… odd. Hell, the entire conversation is odd. 

John is not one of her girlfriends for her to cheekily report back how her date went. He’s her ex husband for God’s sake. 

“We were,” she agrees amicably- mind spinning with memories of the various times they had stumbled into bed early in the morning, or crawled into the backseat of John’s car like horny teenagers or-

One moment her thoughts are full of the various times John had folded her up like a piece of paper, and the next she’s aware that he’s closed the distance between them while she’s distracted.

“Makes me wonder if that was your plan all along,” he ponders out loud. She squeaks in protest, rooted to the ground and not even attempting to put more space between them.

“Was it? Having me home with the kids while you were out with another man?” His tone holds far more warmth than one would expect of a man all but accusing his (ex) wife of being a hotwife. 

John’s hands grip at either side of her hips, thumbs rubbing in affectionate circles. She doesn’t quite know what to do with her own- she can feel the shift in the room. She hasn’t been with anyone since the last time they slept together, and there’s only so much fucking herself can due to take the edge off.

She can’t mimic the weight of a man’s body on top of hers- of his voice rumbling in her ears, the body heat radiating off of him as he coaxes one orgasm after another out of her.

She doesn’t want just a man though, in the broad scope of the term. It’s John. 

He stops stroking at her before making a few deliberate swipes. It dawns on her that he’s feeling at the seam of her lingerie set underneath her dress. 

“What’s this?” He asks, hands roaming and squeezing at her sides- possibly seeing if he can gauge which set is hidden away by feeling how the fabric wraps around her. 

It’s a new one. While she hadn’t been sure about sleeping with her date, the thought of wearing lingerie that at one point had been meant for John felt wrong. 

There’s a part of her willing to admit that at the rate things are going, he’s likely going to be christening this one also by the end of the night. 

“Were you planning on showing this to him?” John’s enjoying torturing her- dangling the man she wasn’t ever all that interested in just to bait her.

“No, I-,” she hadn’t really thought about it. There was no plan. She was going on a date, so she put on lingerie like she always has. 

Like she always did- for him. John would make a game of figuring out which set she had on.

“I just want you,” the truth bubbles out of her throat unbidden. 

John descends on her like a man starved- fingers digging into her hips with a grip that she knows is going to leave bruises later.

“Bed,” she mumbles between kisses. Given how John immediately starts herding her backwards towards the bedroom, he’s clearly on board with this plan. 

Once the door is shut, the pair cross the room before collapsing against the bed. 

Clothes are shed in a hurry, pried off with little regard as they’re shucked to the floor.

“This one looks lovely on you,” John murmurs in praise against her skin as he gropes at the lace adorning her body, dropping to his knees on the side of the bed. 

God has she missed this- missed him. The feeling is clearly mutual from the way he busies himself between her legs, lips peppering kisses across her inner thighs quickly while he makes his way towards the spot she wants him most, the gusset of her thong pulled aside.

Just as his breath is fanning over the core of her he pulls back slightly. Her thigh twitches in frustration, so close to finally having the nirvana of his tongue lapping at her only for him to have to be a tease.

“Has anyone else gotten a taste of this sweet cunt?” He asks, eyes on her with an intensity that has her squirming. 

“No! There hasn’t been- John, I swear I haven’t-“ she protests.

“I believe you,” he assures her. 

She probably should ask if the same could be said for him- for her own sake if nothing else. But she’s already made a slew of questionable decisions that haven’t gone the way she wants, and she errs on the side of not asking questions she doesn’t want an answer to.

Her eyes roll immediately once his mouth is on her. His hands grip at the underside of her thigh, holding them apart to give him unfettered access.

“John,” somehow she can’t quite wrap her mind around the fact that he’s got her back in their bed. Everything is novel and familiar at the same time, and she is overwhelmed by how easy it is to fall back into old habits. 

He pulls away just long enough to speak, “I missed you so much,” before going back to eating her out.

John is a man on a mission, and he is familiar enough with her body to know exactly how to get her where he wants her. He also knows all of her tells- God damn him. No sooner has he dragged her to the precipice of her orgasm does he sit back, content to let her dangle but stopping just shy of letting her finally topple over.

“Wh-why?” She whimpers, lust, anticipation and disappointment curling in her gut.

He’s so gentle with her when he takes her left hand in his own, thumb running over her knuckles in soothing movements.

“Where’s your ring, sweetheart?” his question is a non sequitur if she’s ever heard one, head spinning trying to catch up through the haze of pleasure she’d been drowning in just a moment ago.

“My ring?” She mimics more on reflex than anything else, mind still reeling to catch up.

“Yes, sweetheart, your ring.” He repeats, eyeline following hers as her gaze shifts to the jewelry box sitting on the vanity.

There’s no written standard on how long to keep your ring before getting rid of it, and she hadn’t been sure about it. Figured she could always get rid of it later- when it’s never a question of if she’s making the right decision. Even with the ink dried on the paperwork finalizing their divorce, the ring feels like the final nail in the coffin for their marriage.

So she put it in her jewelry box, where it is safe but out of mind and she could worry about it later.

She never thought for a second that ‘later’ would arrive in the form of her ex husband telling her “Go get it and bring it here.”

It’s a beautiful ring; everything she ever wanted growing up. The cut, the size, the setting- John did a lovely job when he picked it out all those years ago.

Gonna be an officer’s wife, sweetheart he’d told her after she’d accepted his proposal. Gotta look the part.

Surely no one can blame her for not gnashing at the bit to part with it?

She hesitates for a moment before ultimately deciding to just do as she’s told- John didn’t tell her to put it back on. So she holds it pinched between her thumb and pointer.

In an alternate dimension, where she’d gone back with her date and let him charm her out of her new lingerie, there would be some insecurity over her body. Bringing three tiny lives into the world takes its toll in the form of stretch marks and loose skin and some extra weight that just clings to her like a needy toddler- but any time John has seen her naked, he is as moon eyed as he was the first time all those years ago. Like he can’t quite believe his luck and he’s not entirely sure she’s real.

Tonight is no exception. As soon as she’s in arms reach his hands settle on her hips, pulling her closer to him.

“We’re going to lay some ground rules, and then I’m going to fuck you into the mattress. Am I clear, pet?” Warmth and affection roll off of his tone in waves despite his words. All she can do is nod dumbly.

“This,” John takes the ring from her before sliding it back on her finger,” stays where it belongs. Right here.”

He pulls her even closer- she has to crane her neck to look up at him. “There’s no more dates with other men. That stops tonight.”

Another easy acquiescence. She nods in agreement.

He spins her slowly, facing away from him and then pulling at her hips so she’s sitting on him. She starts to hover, holding herself up until he swats at the side of her ass. “Now is not the time to play with me,” he warns.

She settles, feeling the mattress dip underneath their combined weight. John clearly has a plan in mind as he guides her to spread her legs, a chill running up her spine as the air laps at her wet cunt. His erection presses heavy at her ass, trapped between his body and her own.

His left middle and ring finger tap at her lower lip and she opens her mouth on reflex. John doesn’t even need to tell her to suck, tongue laving over the thick digits automatically, the same way she would his cock.

“I’m not mad,” he whispers in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You tried and tried to tell me, and I didn’t take you seriously, did I?”

She can only assume that this is all rhetorical- that there’s no way he can expect an answer out of her considering she’s gagging on his fingers.

“As soon as you told me you wanted a divorce in my office, I knew what it was. You needed my attention, and I wasn’t listening. I don’t blame you. Hell, I practically forced your hand. So I’m not mad,” he reiterates.

“But you’ve got my full attention now, lovely- I can promise you that.” 

She twists as much as she’s able, watching John out of the corner of her eye while still sucking; her tongue tasting the metal of his ring as it ran along the base of it.

“We,” he pulls his fingers from her mouth, grinning when she chases his hand slightly, “are going to work this out. I love you, and I have no intention of letting another man raise my children.”

It would be easy to say the arousal dripping from her is left from when John’s mouth was on her, but that would be a lie. Him taking her in hand- literally-  and telling her he has no intention of letting her go is definitely doing it for her.

Wet fingers grab at her jaw and turn her head, making her melt into his hold as he kisses her. “There’s my good girl,” his voice is a rumbling timber purring in her ear.

She whines when those two fingers trace down her body- an appreciative squeeze of her breasts trailing to grope at her ass before finally slipping between her legs.

“John,” his name is a whimper against his lips as she wiggles in anticipation.

“So impatient,” he admonishes gently as he works his fingers inside of her.

Warmed by their body heat, his ring isn’t cold against her skin by any stretch of the imagination. If anything, it feels like a white hot branding iron everywhere he touches. That tonight is a reclamation as much as a reunion as he crooks his fingers inside of her.

It was easy to ignore the need that burned in her at night. She’d run herself ragged during the day chasing after children and keeping all her ducks in a row. With John gone, it was easy to shove the desire down and ignore it.

But oh now that he has her in his arms, fingers buried in her as he works her closer to her peak? She feels like she’s on fire. Greed burns at her insides, needing more. Nothing short of climbing inside of him would abate the desire roaring in her body.

Her hips cant in short motions, following the movement of his hand eagerly.

As reluctant as she is to stop kissing him, she can feel a crick in her neck starting to form from keeping her head turned for so long.

Her head lulls against his shoulder when his free hand slips under the lace of her bra and grips one nipple between his middle finger and thumb, his pointer finger teasing the hardened nub in a way he knows drives her absolutely insane.

“Oh my God,” she squeaks just a breath too loud, her hand immediately clamping over her mouth as John pinches her nipple just shy of pain in reprimand. “Not too loud,” he reminds her, mollified when she nods in acknowledgement.

He’s got her panting in need in record time, a small part of her suspicious that he’s going to stop her short of her climax again. The anxiety only serves to fuel the fire burning in her gut, giving the final push to tip her over the edge.

Apparently neither trust her ability to be quiet when her climax hits, because John’s hand abandons teasing her breast in favor of also making sure her cries are muffled. The other is soaked as she squirts, twitching and bucking in his hold.

“Need to shove your face in a pillow,” he comments dryly, a shit eating grin on his face as he takes in her blissed out expression.

He knows her inside and out; knows exactly how long she needs to recover before he’s tapping at her side and prompting her up. “Get on the bed and lay on your back.”

She complies immediately on shaky legs, standing to turn and crawling to the middle of the bed.

John is just as delicious now as he was over a decade ago, and her brain threatens to short circuit watching him crawl over top of her. There’s more grey hairs and fine lines creasing around his eyes, and her heart still thrums in her ribcage like a hummingbird.

She relaxes against the mattress, trusting entirely that John has everything handled. He positions her how he wants, settling between her legs and rubbing the tip of her cock against her wet entrance. 

“Please, John, I can’t wait anymore,” she begs, feeling like she’s about to lose her mind. The edge should be taken off considering John’s rather patiently gotten her off already once, and yet if anything it just makes her more frantic. As much as each swipe of his cock against her swollen clit sends tingles of pleasure up her spine, she’s gagging for him and running out of patience.

“You are a spoiled thing,” he admonishes good naturedly like he hasn’t made a habit of indulging her every whim and desire in the past decade up to and including getting a divorce.

“We might have our problems, sweetheart, but being able to fuck you right was never one of them, was it?” John teases as he lines himself up with her. She shakes her head in agreement. If she’s being truthful, that’s partially what had stayed her hand for as long as she had. The frustration with his work being so all consuming it was like his mistress had been a slow boil for quite some time. For years John would mollify her by fucking her into submission- and she has a sinking suspicion that their youngest was an attempt to get her to let up on the subject.

His generosity in the bedroom stems from equal parts wanting to please, and the pragmatic aspect that he is not a small man, and it’s usually easier for everyone involved if he gets her off before attempting penetration.

It’s like they haven’t missed a day- it takes a few thrusts to get her body to spread for him and then all the blood on John’s body dives south for the wet, warm cunt wrapping around his cock.

“This pretty cunt’s got me like a vice, sweetheart,” he praises, leaning down to kiss her.

“I missed you so much,” she whines into the kiss. “It feels so good.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he grunts against her neck, each clap of his hips against hers earning a whine. “You divine creature- got me wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

An entire relationship’s worth of orgasms makes it so she doesn’t begrudge him that he’s going to be a quick shot tonight. His earlier statement is correct- if there is one thing the man knows how to do, it’s fuck her within an inch of her life. He’s proven that time and time again.

If anything, given their time apart, it appeases some of her anxiety- he must not be getting any from anyone else if he’s already this close to finishing.

“Look at me,” he instructs and she complies immediately. One of his hands strokes her face while his other arm braces his weight above her. “Tell me you love me.”

Her answer is immediate. “I do! John, I love you. I love you so much!”

His hips come to a halt against hers as he grunts against her neck in pleasure. “My perfect girl,” he praises, hands stroking at her sides as he comes down from his high.

She’s so caught up in the lust of the situation that it takes a second for reality to come knocking on her door. “Shit! Pull out!” she tells him, trying to scramble out from underneath him.

“What?” In all their years, ‘pull out’ has never been one of the instructions. He complies even as his brows knit in confusion.

“I haven’t been keeping up with my birth control!” Despite John’s easy assurance that he can just stroll in and assert that they are going to work through things (and she does want to)- adding a new baby on top of their mess will not help get shit sorted out.

Once again, his unflappable attitude has its way of driving her absolutely insane. “Bit late for that, innit? You’ve already had 3 of mine, what’s one more at this point?”

“One more at this point is exactly the point!” she tries to reason.

“We did say a girl would be nice,” he reminds her.

“That was before we got a divorce!” she hisses, trying to be mindful of her volume lest she wake their children.

“That’s nothing but paperwork, pet. We can have it sorted by the time you’re due.” John can tell he’s truly gone and wound her up more than he meant with that, immediately shifting gears to try and settle her back down. 

“Okay, too much. I’m sorry. Come here,” he guides her to lay down, which she does albeit with a fair amount of suspicion. 

John wisely chooses not to agitate her further or do anything that could be considered pushing in his luck (like, say, pointing out that despite her protests about another baby, she’s not said a peep about the cum dripping from her).

Instead he draws her up into his arms, sticking his nose firmly in her hair.

For a long moment it’s quiet, nothing but the sound of their breathing in the late night.

It catches her off guard when the tears come unbidden. One moment she’s happily lazing in her (ex-turned-hopeful-once-more?) husband’s arms, and the next she’s sobbing uncontrollably.

They’ve been through enough that it shouldn’t embarrass her. For fuck’s sake, she’d vomited all over him during the birth of their second son. But she feels like an exposed livewire sobbing over nothing and without warning.

“What’s wrong?” John mumbles as he wakes half-way, pulling her closer to him and stroking her back to console her.

“I mucked everything up,” she chokes out, burrowing her face against his neck. “I didn’t even want this, I just didn’t know what else to do!”

He shushes her gently, petting at her in an attempt to calm her down. “I meant what I said, pet. I know things have to change, but at the end of the day it’s just papers. We’ll get everything fixed back in its proper place.”

She doesn’t remove herself from the spot on his neck she’s nestling against, but quiets down and eventually they both fall asleep once again.

When she wakes again, she feels far more level headed- although neediness eats away at her. It’s like her body is craving to make up for lost time for the months they’ve been apart.

She can’t help herself as one hand trails down the thick hair dusting his torso, pressing kisses against his neck. Even in his sleep John responds to her touch- pulls at her to be closer to him, huffing as his dick twitches in interest. 

It only takes a quick lick of her palm and a few strokes to have him stiffening in her hand.

The dried spend on the inside of her thighs is enough of a reminder, even if she’s feeling affectionate this morning, that she’s going to have to figure something out for her birth control. 

For the morning at least the answer to that is easy- still working her hand in slow motion up and down on his shaft she kisses a trail down his neck and working her way south.

The movement is enough to have John stirring with a sinful groan in the back of his throat.

“Well good morning, gorgeous,” he greets, voice clouding in sleep in a way that makes her just want to sit on his face.

Humming out an acknowledgement, she continues to work her way down his abdomen. She does give in to the impulse to nip at the base of his happy trail, delighting in how he sucks back away from her teeth only to push at her head immediately after.

“Bad girl,” he admonishes with no true venom in his voice “Keep those teeth to yourself, hm?” he advises with an affectionate swat to her ass.

Rather than crawling down him, she’s got herself angled perpendicular to him. All the better for him to pet her with one hand while the other encourages her to take him in her mouth.

The moan he makes as she bobs her head is sinful, and she presses her thighs together and shifts her hips to get whatever little bit of friction she can- an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by John.

“That pretty pussy of yours needs some attention, doesn’t it sweetheart?” he asks, a warm hand running down her spine and trailing across her ass until he starts to tease her.

She works with a sense of urgency, even with John taking his time playing with her. They should have another hour or so to themselves before the boys wake up, but they’re also no strangers to a mad scramble under the covers with an unplanned interruption.

“Fuck,” he bites out a curse, hips flexing underneath her. That’s all the encouragement she needs to redouble her efforts, the hand not supporting her weight wrapping around him and stroking to help get him there faster. Despite their years together she’d never quite been able to take all of him down her throat.

“Look at me,” and the eye contact is all it takes for her to feel him stiffening beneath her. “Gonna swallow for me, sweetheart? Yeah, that’s my good girl- keep those eyes on- fuck,” he grunts, his climax hitting.

She’s well versed in swallowing his seed as he cums- keeps up the suction even as his orgasm tapers off just to see how long it takes him to grab her by the hair and pry her off of him.

“Sit on my face. And don’t even think about fucking hovering,” John orders and she complies immediately. His teasing while she’d blown him leaves her a horribly needy mess- None of the pent up lust releasing yet, although anticipation has her scrambling back up the bed and straddling his face.

He pulls at her hips, locking a forearm around her like he wants to make sure she isn’t going to change her mind and start teasing him back.

And fuck does that man know exactly where to lick and suck to make her eyes roll. One of her hands gripping the headboard for dear life, the other one buries itself in John’s hair. He takes direction like a champ, following the not-so-subtle cues from her as she pulls him where she wants him.

“Please, please, please,” she babbles breathlessly as he gets her teetering over the edge, only to release his hair in favor of clamping her hand over her mouth as her orgasm washes over her.

Her legs are weak as he guides her back down before getting her on her back and kissing her until she’s breathless. As engrossing as their make out session is, neither one particularly cares that they can taste themself on the other.

Eventually the pair wear themselves out, calming down from their earlier romp and managing to get into the shower and cleaning up.

It’s only after they’ve escaped the pull of their marital bed, as the water washes the lust out of her system that the reality of the situation comes knocking again, insistent.

“I want this to work, John.” She wants to melt at the way his expression softens at her.

“I do too, sweetheart- you have no idea how much.” A sigh escapes her, already fearing that they’re back on their loop that’s been the routine for the past decade. “What’s that for, hm?” he inquires.

“I want this to work, John,” she repeats “but things have to change. I mean it.”

“ I know you do,” he assures her, reaching down to kiss her temple. “I believe you.”

She’s uncertain if her refusal to be mollified is her winding herself into a snit again, or because she’s justified in the knowledge that this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation.

Especially when his palm drops to hover over her belly.

“You can’t try to get me pregnant if you’re not retiring from the field, John,” she asserts. “I can handle the boys, I cannot handle a fourth baby by myself.”

And much like a kind stranger trying to lure a skittish stray dog into their car, John hums in agreement.

Retirement from the military as a whole, she knows, is far too much of an ask. John has spent his entire adult life serving and it will probably take a career ending injury to get him to agree to retire outright. However she’ll happily settle for him promoting high enough that he’s not one of the first people contacted when they need boots on the ground. She just wants her husband home. She’s paid her dues being the sweet housewife raising the kids alone while he plays hero on the other side of the world. He’s beyond capable of climbing the ranks to one that involves less clandestine missions and more paperwork, and it’s absolutely infuriating that he hasn’t.

(She knows it’s not entirely a blind devotion to country and crown and preventing acts of terrorism, and the fact that he enjoys fucking off to who-knows-where at the drop of a hat- never knowing where he’ll be 24 hours from now at any given time, and he doesn’t want to give that up yet. She tries not to think about it too hard though, otherwise she’ll melt down like chernobyl.)

The hot water runs out before John’s refractory period, which is a good thing for her sake because she’s a scatter brained mess right now. The man’s not 20 and she doesn’t begrudge him the time it takes to recuperate, but she’s swinging wildly between being sappy and sentimental and wanting back what she had, and knowing full well she needs to get a grip before she does something stupid like letting John talk her into trying for a girl.

By the time they dry off and dress there are three hungry boys who are in for quite the surprise to see their dad come morning. No doubt there had been a reasonable expectation that John would leave in the middle of the night after they went to bed.

John keeps the boys distracted and out of her hair as she gets their breakfast sorted. 

Before the divorce, the pair of them would go about their separate routines; making their morning caffeinated beverages of choice, idly commenting on the latest news headline, alternating getting things sorted for their children. 

Now John hovers. Like he’s not entirely certain if he wants her out of his sight. He wrangles the boys to their seats as she gets their food, but it’s like one eye is kept trained on her. 

Before the divorce, her children would make their protests- high pitch peals of ew! (The youngest, she suspects, merely imitating his older brothers who get a kick out of their parents' displeased stares) if they witnessed any displays of overt affection. While of course anything where they could see was kept G rated, once the boys thought something was funny they committed to the bit entirely. 

Now, while she’s distracted by John giving a chaste kiss to her temple and running his hands up and down the sides of her arm, she realizes that the boys are as silent as the grave. Three sets of owlish eyes watch them intently before comically making a big show of going back to their breakfast as they realize they’re caught.

“John,” she starts quietly, eyes watching the boys before shifting her attention back to her husba- ex-husband. “We really need to talk about this. Actually talk.” Not just fuck each other silly - she knows they’ll just slip back into old habits. They need ground rules. 

She knows how her husband works. If she can wrangle him into actually agreeing with a discussion, that is workable. John’s got his quirks and idiosyncrasies that she’s learned over the years. He won’t outright lie to her, he won’t go back on his word if he commits to something. But he will push and widdle and chip away at her to keep her compliant and happy enough to get off his dick (usually by putting her on his dick. Or mouth. Or hands. Or-

Anyway.)

“We will, sweetheart. Let’s just get through breakfast, hm?”

It is so familiar and yet still so different. The boys are running a mile a minute, eagerly soaking up the additional time with their father (the guilt gnaws at her- knows this could just be a normal morning. Had she either never divorced him, or kept him firmly away. This hemming and hawing that feels inevitable can not be good for the boys).

Screentime is a bit of a hot topic, but they need the boys content and quiet long enough for them to speak without interruptions. 

The eldest is a bit too old for the target demographic for Bluey, but his handheld console is enough to keep him entertained.

She can’t help but feel like her oldest boy and John are conspiring- John firmly telling him “Your mother and I need to have a little talk with no interuptions. You keep an eye on your brothers, got it?” only for the oldest to salute him with a “Yes, sir!” that has John grinning as he herds her towards his office with a hand low on her back.

The click of the door sliding shut is as loud as a gunshot.

“I know I pushed too far,” John begins. The pair of them stand in front of each other. “You kept asking for the same thing over and over again. I never thought you would actually leave, but I can’t say I was surprised when you asked for a divorce. You were trying, and I wasn’t listening. I meant what I said last night. I’m not mad.”

It…. stings. Knowing the truth the whole time- John thinking he can just wait her out. That he can lean on her despite her protests and eventually she’ll give up. But it’s a dull pain, considering it’s something she’s lived with for years. She’s well familiar with it. 

“So why? Why let it get that far. I know what you do is important. I know it’s selfish to ask you to give that up, but we’ve got three kids, John. You want a fourth! It is so hard to be the one who stays with them when you leave. They don’t grasp the situation. They just know that their dad’s gone and they miss you. And I cannot breathe when you are deployed and sent off to fuck-knows-where dealing with some of the most violent, dangerous groups on the planet. What if you don’t come home? How am I supposed to raise them without you?”

Sharp words coming from the same woman who kicked John out. But it’s the same story he’s been hearing for the better part of decade ever since their first was born. He can likely recite her speech from the heart at this point.

Like always, John is steadfast in the storm no matter how far into orbit she flies. He’s well acquainted with her whims, and knows just how easy it is to rile her up and yet also knows exactly how to bring her back down. 

At the moment her expression is similar to that of a wet hen’s.

“I didn’t think you’d leave.” It’s the truth and she knows it and it pisses her off. “I knew you weren’t happy with it, but overall we were happy with each other. I wasn’t cheating on you. I’m not a mean drunk. I might be absent at times but I’m not cruel. I keep you happy in bed. You want for nothing. The boys know I adore them. Every marriage has its problems. I thought we both understood that the nature of my job is ours.” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she reiterates, and she’s not sure if her voice warbles from how angry she is at the confirmation that he thought he could wait her out until he felt like retiring (or, more likely- she buries him), or at herself because she picked him and how mad can she be when he’s been honest about his work from the start.

There’s no clear cut villain. John is right. His job has weighed down on them since the beginning. In the beginning she thought she could handle it. But three children later and she’s begun to realize- far too late- that it’s so much. Subjecting them to something they never asked for because they were born into this schedule where John is beholden to Kate fucking Laswell more than his own family (peace and love to her- she’s great but she is the walking representation of everything they are struggling with in their marriage).

Her mind is a jumbling mess, like twine that’s interlocking and needing to unravel. There’s no clear cut path forward. She will go absolutely insane if things continue on the way they have been, but the time apart has shown her that she doesn’t really want to separate from John. No other man can even come close to him.

“So now what do we do?” she asks.

John steps closer to her, reaching to run his knuckles across her cheek in affection. “I want to come home, sweetheart.”

“It’s not that easy.”

She expects some sort of protest. Some sort of Yes it can be, and she’s not sure if she’s got the mental fortitude to continue holding her ground. But she knows that nothing will change if she lets up now. This is the moment where she either needs to throw in the towel, or maybe- just maybe there’s a chance.

They’ve made it this far. But she is so tired. She can’t go back but she’s got no idea what’s ahead or how long it will take to get there.

“I know. All I’m asking for is a chance.”

“It is your last one John, I swea-” She’s always hated that stupid fucking movie trope where the man shuts the woman up by kissing her. Yet here she is, her (fragile) attempt at a stern warning cut off as John snatches her up and pulls her to him.

After last night, one would think they’d gotten enough of each other to not be groping at each other like animals in heat.

Mother fucker he’s doing it again. He doesn’t fight as she pulls away, though those pretty blue eyes are blown showing where he would have been heading had she not stopped him.

“I mean it, John. You said you want this to work, but I need to see changes. You need to be home and not fucking off half away across the world at the drop of a hat. I need to be able to make plans and know that you will be here.”

“Anything, sweetheart. I just want my family back. I swear, I’m listening this time. I’ll figure it out.”

The lust has calmed from his eyes as he approaches again, making her look up at him. “You remember our little conversation from last night?” 

He looks as serious as a heart attack, and there was a lot said last night.

She’s taking too long to answer, as he continues unprompted. “I know you’re not going to sign the papers overnight, and I’m fine with that. But your ring stays on, and there are no more dates with other men. You are mine. You are not single, and I expect you to act like it, hm?”

The chaste kiss to her temple is a sharp juxtaposition to the severity of his tone. He certainly doesn’t need to tell her twice.

“I promise,” she assures him, seeing how the intensity drains out of him as he’s mollified by her words. “I know I don’t have a right to ask, but did you- was there-” the words choke as she stumbles over them. She can’t be mad. She’s got no right to- they are divorced, and he (was) single and free to do as he pleases. But the idea of John drowning his sorrows in another woman’s body makes her want to claw someone’s eyes out.

And she really should have asked before he fucked her without a condom, but hindsight is 20/20.

Despite her inability to get the words together in the right order, John seems to know her question. He pulls her close to him, tucking her under his chin.

“No, sweetheart. There was never anyone else.”

The knot in her gut unwinds a little bit. “I love you, John. I’m sorry it came to this.”

“We’ll fix it, sweetheart.”

For a moment they stand there in the quiet, but there was no telling what sort of trouble their little trio might get into if left alone for too long. When John unlocks and opens the door, they both raise an eyebrow at the sight of their youngest dashing off around the corner.

Like the three little troublemakers had tried to listen through the door (which they would not be able to do- because she has tried once or twice), and the youngest was too slow to keep up with his brothers who are perched on the couch for all the world like they never left it.

The older two try to play their hand at staying cool, although the youngest boy is giggling- enjoying his “game” of teaming up with his brothers to try and pull a fast one on their parents.

“Do you have to leave?” The question from their oldest is deliberate, and succeeds in distracting them from the fact that their kids were definitely trying to eavesdrop on a conversation not meant for young ears.

“Not today,” John answers, ignoring the sharp look she shoots his way.

It’s a delicate balancing act as they stumble through picking up the broken pieces of their marriage. John can’t prove that he’s controlling his work hours unless she lets him in the house, but does give him shit about not moving in too soon. She doesn’t want him getting comfortable or complacent and back sliding on his promise.

Of course, John gets his lick back. There had been a stern conversation about condoms until her birth control is in hand.

Only to find out at her appointment that they can’t give it to her because she’s pregnant.

Mother fucker. Damn that “one shot, one kill” motherfucker. Their one slip up was the only discrepancy since they have gotten back together- that has to be when she conceived. Why did she fall in love with a sniper?

John is ecstatic with the news, as are the boys. She feels like a wet, disgruntled hen.

The new baby throws a wrench in her plans, but she can’t quite find it in her to be too disappointed once the shock wears off. John had been set on another baby, chattering on and on about how he hopes it’s a girl. They would have had another baby at some point, it’s just a bit sooner than she was anticipating.

No doubt for the boys, the new baby is an assurance that their parents aren’t staying separated. In their simplistic view, that’s as good as ink drying on paper that they’re staying together.

At her scan when it’s revealed she’s carrying boy #4, John kisses her temple and tells her how happy he is.

The youngest daughter that he’s got his sights set on is shelved for the duration of her pregnancy, not another peep of it mentioned.

A girl would have been nice, but she’s well experienced with wrangling John Price’s sons, and no doubt this one will fall into the group just fine.

John’s got quite the track record of giving her pretty babies, which everyone praises and compliments when the little man finally makes his arrival.

When he is home (which has been substantially more, she has to admit), he’s an active and involved father who’s besotted by his children and happily splits night duty with his exhausted wife. Keeps the older boys in line and behaving.

She doesn’t sign anything until John has a signed transfer request. While he’ll still be working in counter terrorism, and still be very close with the 141, his job no longer mandates he ups and leaves at the drop of a hat.

They celebrate quietly. Friends and family have made their opinions known about the back and forth tentative future of their marriage (mostly a well intended shit or get off the pot), and they elect to drop the boys with John’s parents to have a weekend for themselves.

There are no lusty slip ups and everything is followed to the letter but she wants to kill John when he grins at her positive pregnancy test.

Everything can fail, it seems. John merely commenting “Maybe this one will be a girl”, showing his hand that he hasn’t quite given up his dreams of a youngest girl to round out their gaggle of boys.

She doesn’t want to know the gender this time around, which John grouses about but ultimately accepts.

When Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley promotes to a new rank, John is the one the man calls to ask him to participate in his ceremony.

She’s still in her second trimester, not quite teetering into her third just yet. John wants to bring the kids. If the third trimester exhaustion had stuck yet, she likely could have begged to be left out and he likely would have acquiesced. And the boys usually know better than to try anything when on base with John.

The day comes and she feels like a walking stereotype of an officer’s wife- gaggle of kids clinging to her skirt, the newest baby still clinging to her, and an unmistakable pregnancy bump.

“Cookin’ another boy in there, Mrs. Price?” Soap asks good naturedly while they’re waiting.

“Not quite sure,” she answers, eyes on her three more mobile kids making sure they’re settling in and behaving. “John’s been itching for a girl since before this one came,” she gestures to their youngest in her arms.

“Well, hopefully it’a girl then for yer sake- man’s gonna give ya a football team at this rate!” the Scot laughs, chortling at his own joke. There are times when she sometimes wonders how someone as charming as Johnny Mactavish got wrangled into clandestine counter terrorism missions, but then she remembers that as much as he can charm a bird from a tree, it’s comments like that that skirt just too comfortable that yes, he’s probably got a few screws loose. (She sometimes wonders about Kyle too, who is giving Johnny a “fucking really??” look, but can’t quite pin anything. The man is perfectly mild mannered and respectable, and she knows that their work can warp someone given enough time.)

“Hopefully so,” she answers amicably. While her pregnancy has been blessedly uneventful, she’s already over it and will be perfectly happy with this being her last.

Something tells her that John is going to get his wish, one way or another though.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

[akascow]

yet another JAYVIK post about the Butterfly Effect :3

also spoilers lol

So Hextech isn't invented in Ekko's alternate timeline, and I feel like since life seemed so much better without Hextech there can be a couple things to infer about alternate Jayce and, by association, our Jayce (and Viktor!) here:

this is a long one and my long posts never get notes but i promise its actually super interesting to think about so u should totally read through it 🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️🔥

1. (and also my favorite one bc its Very JayVik lmao) alternate Jayce never pursued Hextech after the explosion: maybe too guilty over killing someone (because we see alternate Vi died from that explosion during the kids' robbery), he does what Heimerdinger advises him to: fully admitting his crimes and not mentioning the arcane. And we can assume the academy burned all his studies too becauseeeeee…

Viktor never endorsed it. Assuming the admission of guilt theory is correct- Viktor never would’ve even known about the arcane in the first place, because Jayce would never mention it in the council room trial. Viktor would never know that the arcane can be used to help cure people, which we see is what piques his interest in the first place. And like, obviously Viktor wants to cure his leg and illness lol

Which means Viktor never interrupted Jayce's suicide attempt after the trial and Jayce probably goes through with killing himself, Viktor never went to check on him. It seems the compelling force behind Viktor’s interrupting in season 1 was initially from Jayce’s journal, which he picks up while browsing all the Hextech equipment they were planning to destroy. Viktor only really looks at the notes because he was interested in the arcane in the first place, which again, can't happen if Jayce never mentions it in the council room. 

Which is SO important to the plot and me that everything happened the exact way that it did for everything to succeed (which is quite literally the butterfly effect btw lmao). Because it shows how extremely important Jayce and Viktor’s partnership was to not only their own lives, but the entire future of Piltover, good or bad ie no hextech=no shimmer and peace between the cities, hextech= tons of shimmer, the corruption of the arcane, and the destruction of piltover.

Jayce needed someone there to believe in him, and that was Viktor: After the council disagrees with him, and he’s kicked out of the academy and banned from studying the arcane, he tries to find comfort with his mother. She’s the one who was saved using the arcane in the first place after all, so surely she’ll understand. But she tells him to give up on this dream, a dream he’s had almost his entire life. His own mother doesn’t believe in him.

He then goes to the Kiramman’s because “I'll find someone to believe in me,”  most likely assuming if they sponsored his studies in the first place, they would still support him after the trial. But they kick him out from the Kiramman household too, as well as forbid his and Caitlyn’s friendship. And with no one left, the very next scene we see of him is as he’s deciding to jump. 

The only thing that stops him is Viktor showing up. With an interest in the Hextech theory after he reads Jayce’s notes, Viktor wants to help Jayce make the Hextech a reality. Viktor believes in him, and he supports him. That interaction is what leads to their partnership forming, them sneaking back into the lab, grabbing the Hextech equipment and showing Mel and Heimerdinger that it was possible to create magic, and Mel's influence leading to the council’s support and the okay on continuing to develop Hextech together, projecting Piltover into success (and of course accelerating it into ruin, seen in s2. but I won’t get into that snowballing effect here because we’ll be here for hours)

Also, Viktor would be against Hextech if his first and only introduction to seeing it was as a tool to invoke harm (on a Zaunite especially). Which is what would drive Viktor away from investigating it, and before their theory ever even has the chance to get off the ground or evolve, it's already dead in the water for good because:

Something both of them, but especially Viktor, have been extremely against during the entire show was that their plans for Hextech WILL NOT be used as weapons to kill or harm, only to make lives better (especially in the undercity). Think about it: Viktor only adamantly opposed using the Hexcore AFTER it killed Skye.

The guilty conscience of accidentally killing another person with his own technology would not have helped Jayce’s mental state either lol. Like, think about the DIRECT PARALLEL in our timeline: where Viktor almost jumps and kills himself, after Skye's death, as a result of his tampering with the Hexcore, before Jayce interrupts him (ohhh their mirroring, it hurts me)

2. If not from jumping, then alternate Jayce was arrested or exiled… I mean like, he inadvertently killed a young Zaunite girl. That's a lot more consequential to his conscience, reputation, house name AND criminal record than just the building blowing up in our timeline. It’s pretty vague if anyone died in our timeline from it, I think the most that’s mentioned is some people were injured (“Was anyone hurt?” “A building was blown to bits, what do you think?”) so it would weigh heavier on Jayce’s shoulders if someone actually died in this timeline.

Also remember: he felt so guilty about accidentally killing a child with his hammer in s1, that he gave up entirely on trying to wipe out the production of Shimmer. Once he sees how his Hextech can be used against someone, he drops all his plans because "thats not what we created Hextech for"

From that theory, I'm assuming more-so that he was exiled though? Because Heimerdinger said he was in the alternate timeline for like 3 years and couldn't find Jayce, so I don't know... plus I feel like he would have found Jayce in jail if he was there lol.

And beforeeeee anyone yaps, ik Heimerdinger actually said he thinks Jayce ended up somewhere else, and never specifically stated that he "couldn't find Jayce". BUT from the end, since we see two Ekko's before he goes back to the main timeline, we can assume that the original person's mind inhabits the other's body so that there aren't like paradoxical two people in one place at the same time. 

SO theoretically, Heimerdinger actually does go looking for Jayce, and if he found the alternate timeline's Jayce, he probably would've mentioned it to Ekko when asked if Jayce was there too… right? I’m assuming he was hanging around Ekko for most of the 3 years that he was there, waiting for our Ekko to be projected into the alternate Ekko, because it's not like Heimerdinger just happened to show up right when our Ekko gets there, he might’ve assumed it would happen eventually. And when the alternate Ekko starts freaking out about being in the wrong universe, it's pretty clear that this is his Ekko now lol

But then why stick around Ekko and not Jayce? I guess he was currently closer to Ekko, calling him his current pupil, and given that he was the one who showed him the Firelights community and gave him hope. Plus I mean, Jayce literally voted him off the council from a disagreement over the Hexcore so there's some salt in the wound there lmao. Or maybe because Ekko is a lot younger and would not react as calmly or rationally as Jayce would (I'm assuming... idrk HAHA). You could argue that Heimerdinger was just visiting both of them back and forth, but again if he couldn't find any Jayce, then I think it would explain why he doesn’t mention any Jayce at all, and that's where this make the most sense, at least to me.

3. alternate Jayce also died in the explosion with Vi- When we see it in our timeline, he and Vi were the closest to the blast. If it killed Vi, it would’ve presumably killed Jayce too. And if he did die, then obviously Hextech would never be invented, reasons being: everything I just mentioned in the previous theories.. but like, even more simplified bc he wasn't there to begin with lol

I only say it's a weaker theory because Heimerdinger definitely would've seen a memorial for him (or at the very least a gravestone), given Jayce was in the Talis house and under the study of the Kiramman family, it was a pretty high status name compared to the average Piltovian citizen, and probably wouldn’t be silenced or brushed away… 

Although to counter that, I guess since everything in the over city is super status-y, maybe the Kiramman’s wouldn't want their name being tied with the death of two people, which is a similar but obviously more significant reason to why they kicked him out of their house in our timeline after the trial, his “name is no good now.” Plus we hear in the council trial from Ximena that the Talis family is a lower house too, and their voice doesn’t hold as much weight, so maybe it wouldn’t actually have that much mention? He hasn’t become the “Man of Progress” yet either since he’d never get to finish his studies…hmmmmm idk

also edit but some ppl just pointed this out to me that viktor likely died from his sickness bc he didnt have the hexcore to heal him and that makes me SAD !!!!

anyway thats all i have. if you made it this far i greatly appreciate you :3 🫶🏻 i love analyzing this show because OUGH the jayvik butterfly effect goes CRAZY HARD bc its both figurative with the theory and literal with the butterflies being in SO MUCH of their imagery UGHHHHH what the FUCKKKK

also some shameless self promos symbolism of viktor’s humanity and jayce's hallucinations analysis posts if u liked this one :3c

[beesfairlyland]

How to get you Desires instantly?...jk...just wanna talk about my take on 'void state'!!

First of all i hate the word void (not kinda hate hate...but the way ppl are obsessed over it... even i was once lol). After studying the concept of Non-Duality the way i used to see the void ...the way i used to put it on pedestal (i cringed😭) it all changed. I realised we are putting something on the pedestal to which we give the existence.

Void is nothing more than a state that exists because YOU give your awareness to it. Void is a state just like Bee(me) is a state that SELF created! There's nowhere to reach/enter.

Void is nothing but just to be aware of being unconscious. To be aware while this body sleeps.

Okayy I'll ask you to simply meditate....not to reach anywhere...not to enter void....not to get your desires.

Soo first get in comfortable position to meditate.

Now just focus on your breathing, let the thoughts pass by don't engage with them. Just watch them and keep your focus on breathing.

Slowly your mind will start to quieten. As your are observing all this happening. You'll know that you are just the observer of thoughts...you are not the thought....these thoughts ain't yours but of this unreal mind's.

This meditation is to just make you realise that you are the awareness behind these thoughts not the thought itself.

Continue focusing on the breathing. There will be a moment where the mind will become silent and that's when you are one with the awareness. That's the NON-DUAL STATE aka the void state.

This meditation is not to reach the non dual state.... it's to know that you are the observer doesn't matter if the mind goes silent or not. Just to experience who you are try this meditation with zero expectations. If mind got silent great!! But if it didn't then also greatt!!

Now the main problem/mistake that ppl do while meditating for the non-dual state(void state). They don't let the mind think itself....they think with the mind themselves. Didn't understand? Wait lemme explain....you don't let the mind wander or think on it's own instead you yourself start thinking....if i am doing it right, how much more time, it'll be happening soon bla bla.

Just only coz y'all 'try' the void to get your 'desires' that feeling makes you anxious. Getting everything all at once sounds too good to be true to the ego (tho you ALREADY have everything) soo it starts getting anxious and that's totally opposite of meditating.

When bloggers say 'void' is easy....IT ISSS. But this ego don't wanna believe it.

And no you really don't need to affirm, or do methods, listen to subliminals, need a void concept (lol wtf is even that), LITERALLY NOTHING. IT'S JUST A STATE THAT YOU BECOME AWARE OF!!

It's just you are aware of getting your 'desires' instantly... that's why you get your 'desires' instantly. Void ain't your purest form or something. It's just a state from which you can experience you being the awareness from the closest (or may be not).

Literally ppl have hyped it soo much that now it's toxic. I am not against the 'void state'. But the way ppl ruin their mental health by putting something like this on the pedestal....it shrinks my heart. Coz I've been thru that and i don't want y'all go thru the same phase of exhaustion.

Just know that it's just a made up state just like this ego is made up by the SELF. Nothing special at all!!

Hope i could convey what i wanted too!🫶🏻✨

-Love, bee💗🧚🏻‍♀️

[herefortheships]

Just rewatched Beetlejuice Beetlejuice again, and I have thoughts!

But this was my first time watching it while being a Betelgeuse x Lydia shipper, so there might be some unhinged shipper takes here. I'll leave my completely speculative, potentially emotionally-charged impressions under the "read more" cut, under the list.

A lot of what I'll mention here I already noticed after my first watch, but I hadn't written a post like this about my impressions after watching the movie, so I decided to put it all here.

Here it goes!

This movie NEEDED more Betelgeuse. I'm sorry, Michael, but you are kinda wrong. It's not like we need the movie to be all about Betelgeuse, but we needed at least five or ten more minutes with the ghost with the most.

The movie sprang to life whenever Delia was onscreen. The same can be said about Betelgeuse.

The chemistry between Michael Keaton and Winona Ryder was through the roof. All scenes between them were immaculate and precisely why we needed MORE Betelgeuse!

I didn't notice how slow the first half of the movie felt, until Betelgeuse shows up. The movie picks up the pace after the couples therapy scene.

Betelgeuse is crazy about Lydia, no doubt. Was he gonna try to kiss her when he said "come here" right before she yelled "home, home, home!"? I think he definitely was going to throw himself at her. Anyway, he had several chances to do that later and he didn't try anything, but he might have been more restrained not to scare her away again.

Betelgeuse always seems to be more careful around Lydia (about checking her out, touching her, etc). Is he shy about Lydia specifically? lol

We needed more interactions between these two, especially so Lydia could see Betelgeuse wasn't the scary demon she thought him to be. He's more of a self-serving, lovable a-hole with a perverted side, than an all out evil entity. (She still got to see he's not that bad through his actions in the movie, after he saves Astrid and goes above and beyond by also exposing Rory and sending Jeremy to hell lol, but we needed a little more conversation between the two. This would help Lydia process her trauma around Betelgeuse. (*I have a point about this particular thing below, under the cut). Also would have helped the audience see why Betelgeuse's motivation to marry Lydia had nothing to do with Delores and everything to do with how he feels about Lydia herself (he was already chasing Lydia before Delores came into the picture, and had been doing so for over 30 years, as he keeps her photo on his desk and hasn't moved it from there, as shown by the cobweb behind it. Betelgeuse is looking into that portrait literally every single day).

Delores could have been entirely removed from this movie and nothing would have changed. When she shows up and says "Betelgeuse is mine" she literally does nothing to Lydia, whose photo she had literally smashed minutes earlier. When faced with the real woman who she believes to be stealing her man, she doesn't attempt anything against her? That was weak writing.

Everything around Delores was weak writing, except for her backstory.

Lydia did not leave Winter River at the end of the movie. I think the bed she wakes up in after the nightmare is still in Winter River.

As a matter of fact, the nightmare/dream sequence starts when she's quitting her show. The music that denotes that this is a dream starts there. Lydia did not quit the show. She might later on (if there's a 3rd movie we'll know if she did quit), but by the end of this movie she did not quit. That was part of the dream.

Betelgeuse starts blowing up like a balloon before Lydia says his name three times. She's said it once and he started ballooning. So I confirm: he did this himself on purpose. This man is a drama king and this was his grand exit back into the afterlife. 😂

I had this strange vibe that Astrid was bullshitting when she said that by violating code 699 the marriage contract was null and void. The contract also burned when she mentioned it. If it was null and void by Betelgeuse's violation of the code, why is it that it only burned when Astrid mentioned it?

Betelgeuse was indeed in bed with Lydia at the end. Not only is she sleeping to one side of the bed, the pillow he was in was wrinkled like he'd been lying there, and we can also hear the echo of his laugh. This makes me believe that he's the one who put the dream in her mind. Maybe to get back at her for banishing him. (This is a headcanon though, but the fact stands: Betelgeuse was truly there).

Oh before I forget, Lydia did look sad/conflicted at the end after Betelgeuse blew up and vanished. We can't know exactly how she felt after her time with Betelgeuse in this movie because it ended before we had a moment with Lydia alone after everything was said and done. Her story doesn't wrap up, because after she says her goodbye to Delia, what we have with Lydia is the dream sequence. Then she wakes up next to Betelgeuse, and again, alone, but still we can hear Betelgeuse's laugh echoing in the room as Lydia looks half scared, half confused (her face is like "wtf??") as the final scene of the movie.

And now for the potentially unhinged fangirl takes and headcanons (mostly revolving around Betelgeuse and Lydia):

Lydia has always had unresolved feelings for/around Betelgeuse. These unresolved feelings, whatever they are, has not allowed Lydia's romantic relationships to progress. The movie presents these feelings as trauma, and I find that very interesting. Let's explore this one a bit:

Early in the movie when Lydia is talking to Astrid about death and Richard is mentioned, Lydia mentions that her relationship with Richard had ended long before he left and had his accident in the Amazon. Astrid also mentions later that his dad left after his relationship with her mom had ended (If I recall correctly, Astrid says it like "after they separated, my dad left").

Then, when Lydia is talking to Delia after she's seen the Betelgeuse ad that Astrid found in the attic, she starts talking to Delia about how she met Rory at a grief retreat dealing with the loss of Richard and some unresolved feelings. Notice how she said her relationship was over long before his death. Naturally she was grieving him, but what are these unresolved feelings about? Is there guilt involved due to... :

Later, when Lydia tells Rory about Betelgeuse, she goes about it this way: She reminds Rory about their couples therapist, and how he told her that until she faced this "thing" that she was holding back, her relationship with Rory was not going to evolve. This thing of course turns out to be Betelgeuse.

So this kinda confirms that Lydia has some unresolved feelings around Betelgeuse that are holding her romantic relationships back.

As I mentioned above, this is presented as trauma. Is it because of her experiences in the first movie? I don't think so for various reasons: She not only grew up surrounded by the love and care of the Maitlands, she also hasn't seen or heard Betelgeuse in years though she's felt his presence. She also appeared to be living happily at the end of the first movie. You can't present me a traumatized character in the sequel when you showed me this character to be completely fine at the end of the previous film. Lydia also mentions to Delia that her anxiety comes from seeing ghosts every day.

So her traumatic feelings about Betelgeuse stem from something inside her that she needs to face or she won't be able to move on. Keep in mind these are my interpretations and shouldn't be taken as fact! But I believe that Lydia's trauma stems from guilt about having feelings and attraction toward Betelgeuse (possibly since she was a teenager), someone who, in her own words, she is convinced is a "trickster demon".

She may have always been attracted to him, but she pushed it down ("held it back", using her own words). She probably worries that having these feelings makes her "wrong" in some form. That she is "dirty" or even "evil" herself. How can she feel an attraction to someone like Betelgeuse, who is not only scary-looking, but also did scary things to her family and once tried to force her to marry him? These are her conflicted thoughts.

Confronting these emotions is Lydia's true path to healing wholly, because she will be faced with her own darkness. And this is what she is vehemently avoiding by wanting Betelgeuse out of her life (whilst simultaneously wanting him in her life).

This is yet ANOTHER reason why we need a third film: Lydia needs to face her own feelings about Betelgeuse or else she will always be stuck in life. Her relationships will always fail because her heart belongs to someone else; to the one person (ghost) she refuses to give it to, not because of what she feels about him, but because of what having these feelings makes her feel about herself. Only facing this will Lydia be whole again.

That's interesting material for a third and final film, but again, just my headcanons and interpretations. These movies are mostly comedy, and so it's unlikely they will go into the deep stuff. But then again, this movie at times went surprisingly deep, despite being mostly bonkers comedy, so there is a chance they will explore deeper, darker themes in the final installment. Usually the final film in a series goes harder than the rest into the deeper and more nuanced themes.

[funkylilomen]

i have somewhat of a different interpretation about The Mind Electric

> It's less of a diss track and more of using Heart's tactics against him to get him to listen [while also still definitely being a diss track]

somewhat disorganized rant below the cut [also lots of my own interpretations of the album that may very well be inaccurate, so take everything with a grain of salt] :]

The Mind Electric has a bit of a different topic when it comes to Mind's songs/lyrics, to say the least. while Mind does jab at Heart a lot, he does often try to reason with the other in between insults. The Mind Electric has much less of trying to convince Heart to work with [or behind] him and instead focuses on.. insulting the shit out of them

this is extremely funny, but it seems somewhat abrupt and out of the blue for Mind [see what i did there?]. however, i have a.. semi-theory as to why he suddenly just goes off on Heart. he's playing into the other's tactics

and i don't mean that Heart is constantly baraging Mind with insults. in fact, compared to Mind, Heart very rarely verbally attacks the other head on. instead, Heart builds up this fantasy around themself that paints themself as completely innocent, whereas Mind is this irredeemable villain that wants nothing more than Heart's head on a platter. and while, yes Mind definitely isn't fond of Heart, from what we've seen and heard, he is at least somewhat willing to work with Heart—although his idea of "working" with them seems more for Heart to sit in the backseat and shut up while Mind is the one actually in control, but I digress. this fantasy that Heart builds is most clearly seen from both sides in The Heart Acoustic and Be Born

Throughout Mind's songs [Be Born especially], he is trying to reason with Heart and get them to understand his point of view. he tries to explain that he only wants the best for the person that they make up. but Heart either argues with or outright ignores Mind, holding fast to the facade that they built up—that Mind is the bad guy trying to hurt them, and Heart is the good guy trying to save them. they don't want to hear anything that goes against that. so all that Mind says just ends up hitting a brick wall. this might also be a reason as to why Mind sees Heart as childish [their stubborn nature and them "playing make believe" to a much more serious degree]

at the end of Storm and a Spring, Mind and Heart sing over each other, almost sounding like an argument. this is Mind's breaking point. here, he throws his hands up and pretty much goes, "Fine. You want to see me as the villain? I'll play the villain." cue The Mind Electric. this song serves two roles, in my view. One, the one I've been building up to: Mind is leaning into this role that Heart has forced him into in a last ditch effort to break through and actually get him to listen for once. that's why the song eases up at the end. the last few lines of the song are literally, "Though I seem harsh in all my assessments / We each seek a life lived in the light / Yet there lies our Heart, engulfed in resentment / Stubborn, pale akaryocyte." aka, "Although you see everything I do as cruel and unforgiving, I'm not trying to hurt us. I'm only trying to make things better, and yet YOU refuse to see that, no matter how much I try to tell you this. You're being stubborn and resentful with practically no reason other than to perpetuate your own lies."

The second reason is that Mind is beyond frustrated at this point. he has tried and failed so many times to talk to Heart and get them to see the truth. he's tired. he's fed up. he needs an outlet, so he takes this opportunity to air his grievances [this is what i meant by it still definitely being a diss track, lol]. not only is it a method [albeit a poorly thought out one] to get through to Heart, it's also an excuse to let out his frustrations

that's all from me. i have no clue how to end these so. yeah. please don't execute me :]

[oceanwithouthermoon]

saiki siblings rant from the drafts eight months ago ✨❤️

i find it really funny when people try to turn the tables and claim that KUSUO was abusive to KUSUKE 😭

i definitely think its unfair to put ALL the blame onto kusuke, i mean at their cores they are both just traumatized children after all !! kusuke holds way more fault than kusuo but in reality their parents are the ones who actually hold most of the blame. i mean even reading through this entire post, you cant come back and tell me their parents never couldve intervened. they were both unintentionally neglected by their parents and these are just the unfortunate results. BUT ANYWAY actually LOOKING at the saiki brothers fights from their perspective, just think about how it actually started and how it escalated

kusuke was obviously the one to START the rivalry, kusuo quite literally did nothing... kusuke was a hurting little child who felt inferior, so he decided that it was all kusuos fault, yk, for simply being born the way he is. and of course, they were both suffering, but kusuke literally just does not think about it from kusuo's perspective or consider that he was suffering too because, in HIS eyes, kusuo was inherently superior and therefore, who fucking cares what you say or do to him? he'll be fine! and physically, yeah, he IS fine! mentally? yeah no, hes not fine at all. kusuke doesnt realize how much he fucked with his brothers self-esteem from fucking childhood on. kusuo genuinely tried very hard to forget about kusuke, and the memory that stuck the most was kusuke calling him a monster. yea, kusuke was like.. ten at the time. but that doesnt mean it didnt stick with kusuo, and by the time they saw each other again, kusuke just expected kusuo to figure things would have changed since then ? without ever proving it, and proceeding to, on the contrary, prove time and time again through his actions that his way of thinking never changed, he still sees kusuo as a monster and has no respect for his autonomy.

but i mean all it really was at first was silly sibling fights like who can stand sitting in the hot springs the longest and who can eat the fastest.. these are completely normal sibling fights, like things me and my siblings would literally do when we were younger too..

but the next time chronologically that we see these two after this, it goes from those silly arguments to "im going to ruin your life against your wishes and take away everything you love against your will, try and stop me lolZ!"

like☠️ WHAT. people hate on kusuo for punching him during all that which is so silly because genuinely were you paying attention? first of all, kusuke thought the limiter would take more of kusuos powers away and his first instinct was to HIT HIM WITH A BASEBALL BAT. obviously kusuo hit him away, what the hell do you think YOU wouldve done in that situation? LOL.. and then he punched him all those other times he tried to take the trigger out which like... yea, i dont think that was right necessarily but are we really going to put the blame on a kid for hitting someone in AGGRAVATED SELF-DEFENSE? do you honestly believe that the average response to your brother trying to ruin your life would be to gently push him away or run(/teleport) away? no dude, youd wanna punch him too LMFAO

[papayafiles]

i have a draft from ages ago that goes "god i wish i could time travel ten years into the future to see how many world championships lando norris has won" but the more i think about it, the more i think that if i did, via some crazy scifi shenanigans, end up in the future, i would do everything possible to avoid finding out the wdc results. and it's the same reason watching a replay of a race where you already know the results never hits as hard as waking up at the crack of dawn to watch it through a laggy grainy livestream, frantically livetweeting or liveblogging every lock up and overtake, heart in your mouth, the rest of the world falling away, fully locked in on 60 laps of cars just vrooming around and around in loops. because a huge part of this sport is the anticipation, the hope and the faith and the possibility. the not knowing is painful, and the thought that my driver's entire career could pass without that coveted championship—that i could follow him for years into the future, and never get to watch our wildest dreams come true—literally haunts my nightmares. and i know it's a possibility—it happened to so many promising young drivers, due to circumstance or luck or timing or talent or skill or any combination of the above (see daniel ricciardo)—and i know that becoming a world champion is such a rarity, but despite all that, at this moment in time, i'm convinced that lando is a future world champion.

and i think that kind of belief, the whole i don't know where it came from or how i ended up here but i believe it so absolutely this is borderline religious, is a part of what makes being a sports fan so much fun. it's what makes this such a special, magical, incredible experience. getting into sports is the last thing i thought i'd do; i spent my entire childhood not really getting it, because if this is just a game, then why are people losing their heads over something that's not even real? and i have a whole separate monologue about exactly why i think sports are so compelling to so many, which i won't get into in full now, but one of the best parts of it all is getting to believe in something that much. having faith, holding faith, keeping faith over time: the odds are stacked against literally every athlete, because this whole career path is so treacherous and random and slippery; so many things could go wrong so fast, half a tenth of a second and it's all over, but i'm still here, and i believe in my driver always. that's been proven through his past results, obviously, but it's also: i chose him, or he chose me, or some cosmic combination of events occurred circa austria/silverstone 2023, and now i'm in this for life.

i honestly feel so bad for people who have never experienced this kind of fan(girl) experience—and really, i see it a lot, particularly with the whole internet irony epidemic we're in, people who make fun of fans of any celebrity for being sooo parasocial and cringey, for feeling such magnitude of emotion over someone we don't even know, who has no idea we exist, etc etc etc and it's like: i really don't think that's the point? of course the version of lando who lives rent free my head is different to the real 24 year old british adult man probably fast asleep in his monegasque bed rn. when i blog about him and i call him my little guy and my future world champion and my favorite person in the world, that's a version of him who exists in the gray space between the real person, his public media personality, the fervors of my f1/lando norris obsession, everything i've read or written about him, every image or video i've seen, every night i lay awake dreaming about him, etc. and that version of him is my guy. the experiences that led me to the place and the person i am now, one inextricable from the past year-and-a-half of living breathing and loving this sport so much all my friends know i'm a die-hard fan, is special and is mine and is more important than a simple "lol she thinks she knows this millionaire." i lay no claim to the man himself, but this experience, these emotions, this faith, this community and these memories—they're all mine.

one of these days i will watch him cross the finish line in abu dhabi in first place, and i will hear his uncontrollable screams of joy over the radio, the way his voice goes up higher when he's happy and his accent comes in stronger and he suddenly sounds young again, and he'll thank the team back at the factory and he'll thank will and he'll thank his parents and his siblings and his family, and i'll be sitting over my laptop in my lando hoodie sobbing into my hands, and he'll pull into that first place spot and climb out and stand on top of the car that brought him there, and he'll put his fists up in the sky and i'll watch him, and the entire grid will come around to hug and congratulate him, max and oscar and carlos and all the rest of the drivers who love a story and love a new champion and love him, and then he'll take off his helmet and his hair will be all crazy and there will be symmetric balaclava lines on his face, his ears will be flushed red, and he'll be smiling so big and wide, all wild, infectious joy, jenson or nico or hell even david coulthard will do the post-race interviews and they'll ask him how he feels and he'll respond with something that will be plastered on my twitter timeline and then i'll watch him raise the trophy on the podium with this sense of elated disbelief in my chest, and i'll log on here and say "is this real IS THIS REAL" and "i can't believe this is REAL" and "oh my god. oh my god this is actually happening THIS IS REAL MY DRIVER IS A WORLD CHAMPION" and the national anthem will play and he'll throw his head back still grinning and still happy all golden and glowing and radiant, having won it all, and i'll cancel all my plans to cry on the internet about it. it'll be miami 2024 all over again, but magnified and elevated on every single level. and i don't even want to time travel forward and find out for sure when that moment will come, because honestly, i'd rather not rob my future self of the unbelievable feeling when it finally hits, when lando norris world champion passes from the realm of daydreams and manifestations and uncertain tremulous maybes, to certainty, reality, the undeniable truth. to: this is the timeline we're in, and god am i glad, god is it the best one. all those years of waiting and hoping and dreaming and fearing, holding this so carefully in the palms of my hands as if it's a possibility i can make true, somehow, if i just think about it hard enough, delicately enough, cheering him on with everything i have, and now. and here. the champagne pop on the podium, the alchemy playing on repeat, he's getting sprayed from every direction, that ginormous world champion trophy, the shine of his reflection in the gold, the instagram post, the message of gratitude that i'll want to get tattooed onto my eyelids, the tribute video and his name engraved in the annals of history, the entire mtc roaring his name, grandstands of flouro rising to their feet, lando norris formula 1 driver race winner world champion, my guy forever. i want it all. i can't wait i can't wait i can't wait but i will, i'll wait as long as it takes, and this is real to me, to me it's already been written, i'm just waiting for that chapter to arrive. because it will.

[lestappenforever]

this is directed to you social-psychological anon (my goat <3)!!

you’re so right. max literally cares soooo much about what charles thinks of him. when anyone has anything bad to say about max, he doesn’t really care, has a short and cold response to it, or just laughs it off (if it’s someone he knows doesn’t mean it, like lando joking “max ruins everything”). point is he doesn’t really care that much. however, a few years ago an interviewer asked charles what was annoying about max and they made max respond to it, which is so weird but we roll anyways lol. charles goes “annoying? i don’t know. i guess he can say weird things to the media. but that’s okay, he has personality. personality is important.” (this isn’t an exact quote but it’s along the lines of what he said!). he barely even says anything bad, and he immediately compliments max right after. however, max got so upset about it. he immediately goes “I DON’T CARE WHAT HE THINKS!! >:(“ he took it much deeper than he usually does about not great comments toward him. whole country booing him? he doesn’t give a fuck. charles says a barely insulting (not even) comment? he takes that shot so personally 😭 it just shows how important charles’ opinion is to him. fascinating….

Social-psychological anon, another admirerer who shares their own wonderful insight to this analysis. ❤️

And I'd like to throw in my own two cents here, because there is absolutely something truly marvellous about how Max could not give less of a fuck about what other people think of him, no matter who it is. But with Charles? There is some deeprooted urge within him, a desperate desire for Charles' approval, that just gives him a whole other response to anything that may even be slightly interpreted as negative if it comes from Charles.

Your example with that video of Charles being asked if Max is annoying, and Max's clearly bothered response is excellent. Had that been anyone else — a reporter, another driver, literally anyone who is not Charles Marc Harvé Perceval Leclerc — he wouldn't even have batted an eye. Hell, he probably would have grinned as if whoever it was had just given him a massive compliment. But because it was Charles, and because Max for some reason decided that Charles was sort of insulting him (even when he absolutely was not — quite the contrary, the way I personally view it), just gives away just how much Charles' opinion of him means to him. And that is a huge deal, given how Max Emilian Verstappen is very well-known for not giving a flying fuck about what other people think of him.

I think a lot of this boils down to the fact that it's Charles. The guy Max has fought against for most of his racing life, the boy who grew up alongside him in karting, the guy his own father believed was predestined to fight him on track forever, even in F1. (Which is high fucking praise from Jos Verstappen.) Max and Charles have been tied together for as long as Max can remember, and for as long as they're both competing in the same league, Max will think of Charles as the rival to beat. He will think of Charles as the one driver on the grid with the biggest chance of giving him a proper fight, even when he so clearly can't.

Take this season, for example. We haven't gotten to see many battles between Max and Charles for obvious reasons (Ferrari being absolutely abysmal for most of the season), but the few times we have gotten to see it? Max will go fucking wheel-to-wheel with Charles as if they're both in the running of winning the WDC and the winner will be decided based on who comes out victorious out of that particular turn. It doesn't matter that Max knows that he's going to get past Charles. It doesn't matter that Max knows that Charles won't actually be able to fight him for a race win unless Max is starting from far back on the grid and Charles isn't. It doesn't matter that Max knows the car Charles is driving and the strategies his own team are throwing at him aren't up to par. None of that matters, because fighting Charles Leclerc and seeing him as his biggest rival is so deeply ingrained into Max's entire racing identity that he will treat every battle he gets against Charles as if it's a battle that will decide the title even if it fucking kills him.

And that right there? That deep-rooted respect and admiration for Charles? The same kind of deep-rooted respect and admiration Charles has for him? That connection that has taken them from "hating" each other in karting, to civil colleagues in F1, to an actual, genuine friendship that they so clearly both treasure incredibly dearly, as proven by the blatant shift in the vibe between them recently? That's the reason as to why Max, despite clearly not giving a flying fuck about what anyone else thinks of him, will always care about what Charles thinks of him. That's why Max goes to such extreme lengths to behave differently around Charles than he does with any of the other drivers, and why he treats Charles so differently from everyone else. Because not only does Max know and respect Charles' boundaries and his preferred way of being treated, but he wants to do it right. He wants to exist within the same space as Charles and do it well. He wants Charles to enjoy and look forward to their interactions as much as Max himself does. And to this day he craves that approval from Charles as much as he probably did when they were kids, but back then he was too hot-headed and stubborn to realize that the "hate" he felt towards Charles was actually nothing more than the excitement and slight fear of seeing such a massive part of yourself reflected in someone else — someone you were supposed to hate.

I've seen it mentioned so many times in different posts on Tumblr, but it's absolutely true what they say: Max is so much softer around Charles than he is around anyone else, and treats Charles with a sense of care I am yet to see with any of the other drivers. Which, to me, is such a testament to just how much he values Charles' opinion of him.

[l0vagrend]

What is "arcane" and what happened to Jayce and Viktor ? [+Ekko]

[ aka an arcane theory ramble based on League of Legends lore and what we know from the show ]

I. Runes

We know runes are powerful symbols and magical energy that is / was used by mages a long time ago, but was banished and forgotten by Piltover, because of the influence of Heimerdinger. Who saw what magic can do and how it can lead to ruin.

Jayce was saved by a mage and arcane/magical energy [hence the crystal in his wrist].

In the game's lore, there exist the most powerful runes, the World Runes. These runes are speculated to be the creator of everything in Runeterra. Everything came from these runes. However since they hold this enormous power, they are very dangerous and in wrong hands can cause ruin and destruction. Posessing just one rune, a fracture of a rune even, is enough to corrupt its wielder's mind. [khm Lord of the Rings].

I believe "arcane" aka magic, comes from these runes, and is present all over the land.

II. Ryze, the rune mage

In the game, a character named Ryze wields the task of collecting the World Runes to keep away from civilizations. He witnessed the runes destructive powers first hand during the Rune Wars. Where nations posessing just even one rune made them hungry for power.

Ryze binds each rune in a secret location far away from the eyes of others.

The Runes and arcane surrounding Ryze transformed his body, extended his life span. He went from a human looking mage to a purple rune mage. [Viktor is purple as well where his body made contact with the Hexcore]

III. In Legends of Runeterra

Legends of Runeterra is another Riot Games game revolving around the world of LoL. In it 5 shards of the World Runes are mentioned : shard of madness, shard of betrayal, shard of violence, shard of hope, shard of reverence. However there are at least 9 runes we know of from both Ryze's lore and Runeterra's.

So there is a possibility that a 6th Rune is present in the Arcane storyline.

IV. Hextech, artificial magic

Jayce created artificial arcane energy based on his experience with a mage. Hextech merges ancient magical powers with technology and machines.

HEX LITERALLY MEANS CURSE.

RUNETERRA HAS THE WORD RUNE IN IT.

But back to being normal !

V. Wild runes

Wild runes could mean that the original form of runes and arcane is present beyond the artifical machinery. It evolves and corrupts the environment around itself [see Victor's followers, the Hexgate, Ekko's tree].

VI. But where did Jayce go ?

I have 2 ideas for the whole Hexgate mind-fuckery. 1) its just arcane and runes related, 2) its arcane AND time related.

Its possible that the Wild Runes showed Jayce through visions the foreseeable future of the arcane corruption getting really out of hand [Victor and his followers changing in huge ways mentally not just physically].

But also Jayce himself got corrupted by the Wild Rune. His mind is all over the place.

His new LoL skin has a voice line that goes like :

"Unmade, made again. I never know how much of me is left."

Which could imply that he was changed in a much deeper level. I mean hell he looks fucked up and fused with arcane energy.

VII. What will happen with Viktor ?

He will lose his humanity fully and turn to machinery, become against humans and what makes them humans overall. I mean that is just canon LoL lore so its most likely to happen.

He will most likely be reconstructed, because his conciousness is still active and well in some kind of aether.

But also, in the intro we can see Jayce's hand is the one putting the mask on Viktor, he is the reason, like a butterfly effect that caused Viktor to become who he is, the Machine Herald.

[there is a highly likely possibility that LoL Viktor will receive a rework after Arcane to fit the canon]

VIII. What will happen to Ekko ?

In the game he has time related abilities, so it would fit that when he comes back he gains these abilities. Rewinding time will be useful thats for sure ! [Idk about Heimerdinger tho]

BUT this is all i could come up with so far and these are just thoughts and theories ! :]]

posts/videos that inspired me to make this : 1, 2, where did jayce go ?, the cataclysm, ryze cinematic explained

[toomuchracket]

PLS PLS PLS GIVE US POLLY KICKING D WORD MATTY IN THE SHIN LORE AHHHHHHHHHHH *that’s me screaming at the top of my lungs omg*

buckle up, babies, it's lore time.

basically, on tour, when there's no show on a sunday (or even if there is, you'll do this before or after), you and the girls (polly and gabi, and if charli and mrs mac and carly are around they'll join in) congregate in someone's room to drink wine and eat snacks and gossip and watch a movie. sunday sesh. and you all agree to make a point of continuing it after tour each week or every couple of weeks, just for a catch up, alternating whose house you're all meeting at. the first sunday after tour ends, it's your flat at 6pm. cute, nice, fun.

unfortunately for you, quite literally as soon as the plane landed back in london, you and matty sped back to yours and have been holed up in the flat doing nothing but fucking (catching up on all the sex that was impossible to have on a packed tour bus), so fervently that to be completely honest neither of you have any idea what day it is anymore. so, yes, as you can imagine, sunday comes around, and you're practically none the wiser.

anyway, you and your boyfriend order a takeaway for dinner. the intercom buzzes, and nobody speaks, so you figure it's the food. matty - shirtless, literally wearing grey sweatpants and nothing else - says "babe, you get the plates, i'll go to the door for the food", and you - wearing underwear and one of his t-shirts - agree.

the door goes. matty opens it and goes into a coughing fit. because, as you've probably guessed by now, it's not the food at all, it's the girls. all of them. and they look HORRIFIED. carly nearly drops the literal box of wine bottles in her arms in shock, but gabi grabs them before they hit the ground.

nobody really seems to know what to say, until matty decides to awkwardly lean against the doorframe in an attempt to be casual and asks "so... what are you doing here?" - charli folds her arms and says "you answer that question first, healy", and he's like "um. hanging out". polly squints at him (she doesn't have her glasses on) and says "is your face wet? why?", and matty literally cannot resist smirking and saying "you're really asking me that? they could revoke your lesbian card for that, mate"; she scoffs and kicks him in the shin like "don't be such a twat" (but she does it harder than she means to and he's genuinely like "ow! pol!"), while the rest of the girls start groaning in exasperation at him being crude like "oh my god, i can't believe she's fucking you" and "give me strength" and "well, the slut uniform makes sense now" lmao.

meanwhile, you're back in the flat wondering why matty's taking so long, so you pad into the hallway like "baby? everything alright?", and when you hear what is unmistakably mrs mac screech "baby? what the fuck?" you blanch as you realise what day it is and run to the door to save your boyfriend from the wrath of the girls. like, you stand in front of him protectively (he puts his arms around your waist it's very cute) and muster up a smile like "hi girls. forgot it was sunday. soz. how are things with you all?", and mrs mac is like "don't deflect, sweetheart - explain. now", and you sigh like "you'd better come in. matty, babe, could you wait for the food while i talk to them for a second?", and he says "of course, darling", and kisses your nose to further noises of disgust (and an "awww!" from carly lol) as the girls make a beeline for the living room.

anyway, you're like "can i have two seconds to make myself presentable?", and charli's like "absolutely not. spill" - you take a deep breath, and you tell them everything. i mean, not the d word stuff, but the rest of it; you're like "first of all, just to preface, because i know you all worry about me - it's serious. very. we're in love, guys", and despite themselves everyone smiles. gabi's like "how long have you been, y'know, a thing?", and when you're tell them that it's been like 7 months "but we wanted to wait until tour was over to say, so nobody thought it was like, i don't know, just a fling while we were away together, or that he was taking advantage of me" they're all like "jesus. alright".

matty comes back into the room just as polly says "you've seemed a lot happier on this leg of tour, to be honest. so has he, actually", and he giggles when you quip "yeah, well, it's nice having someone to fall asleep with in hotel rooms. and the other stuff that happens in there". mrs mac takes a long drink of wine and winces as matty snuggles in beside you and digs into idk chow mein or whatever, and she's like "the realisation that all of your sex stories were about matty... i feel a bit ill. i should not have asked for details about the hot tub. or the time i caught you having phone sex on the bus. or the time i heard you through the wall and you told me it was the best sex you'd ever had. christ"; matty's like "best sex you've ever had? aww, babe", and you roll your eyes while he kisses your head but you smile and kiss his hand. carly giggles like "you guys are actually really cute, you know. adam thinks so too" - matty sits up straight like "carly you did not tell the boys please tell me you didn't", and charli's like "of course we did. had it in the chat before your girlfriend even appeared. also they're on their way over, squizz and john and all, so i'd put some clothes on unless you want them to rip the piss out of you even more than they're already going to". you giggle while matty groans and trudges off to get a shirt and some leggings for you, and on his way back mrs mac corners him in the hallway and says "you know i love you, and i'm actually really glad you're happy and you're dating someone who's not a dick. but i love her just as much as i love you, and i promise you that if you ever hurt her, healy, i WILL castrate you with a pair of nail scissors. got it?"; he's like "jesus alright. but i won't hurt her, mate. she's it for me, really. gonna marry her one day. m'serious", and she beams like "oh, that's lovely. still. i'm keeping nail scissors in my bag from now on. just in case" lol. but yeah! that's how everyone finds out about you and matty lmao

[luna-rainbow]

"I don't ship T'Challa and Bucky".

Nor do I. You don't have to...

What do all close bonds have to result in ships anyway? There are other kinds of love than romantic/sexual and there are other kinds of bonds.

Why can't two characters have close emotional bonds without being romantically in love with each other? I say they can! I say we need more extremely close platonic/sibling- like relationships which do not involve who wants to sleep with whom.

Lol, sorry I am ranting. I love how you never pass up on a chance to shit on TFatWS though. It deserves it. Someone even theorized that the reason the scenes with the Wakandans are framed like that in the series is to insinuate Bucky betrayed them.

He would *never* have betrayed them. Bucky is not a betrayer. i'm not saying that to woobify him or because he's without flaw, but its just not in his nature to betray or backstab people. He's a protector by nature like you suggested. Not if he's able to exercize free choice and consent anyway. What he did as the Winter Soldier.. well can that even be counted as betrayal when it wasn't done of his free consent or choice?

Which all goes to show how little the writers of that series understood Bucky/just literally wanted to undermine and subvert everything about his established personality and nature. Why don't the writers just go ahead an kill him off already? Permanently this time. They clearly couldn't care less about his character at this point so they might as well. Just at least give him a heroic death....

Yeah, honestly Bucky breaking Zemo out isn’t my gripe, it’s that he’s not given a justification that matches his character. Say if the super soldiers were a threat to Wakanda, or even a direct threat to Sam (instead of them just doing their own thing and it’s really Sam and Bucky trying to stop their quest to provide vaccines for the refugees), and Zemo was once working closely with Nagel and had a direct line in, I would think that might be sufficient justification for Bucky to break Zemo out. As it stands it’s like three degrees of separation and it made no sense for Bucky to go that far, for something that had minimal returns.

I heard that Cap 4 will contain a scene where Isaiah becomes “possessed” in the manner of a brainwashed Winter Soldier and fights against Sam. I would be interested to see whether they treat that as Isaiah’s fault and something he needs to make amends for, or as something beyond his control and the fault of the person who controlled him — as it should be. Although, if they take the correct stance, given the writer is Spellman, I would question that divergent treatment of two similar characters. 

There is a subsection of series fans who believe any direct acknowledgment of Bucky’s extensive trauma or purporting he is a man with strong moral goodness is woobification. Pointing out that he is a good man who would not fucking do that is not what woobification is about.

I think there’s also a subsection of fans who prefer to characterise Bucky as morally ambiguous. It’s not the characterisation I see from movie canon, and I think it’s more in keeping with the comics Bucky who’s a very different character.