#like it might just be fluid man idk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gutsby · 2 months ago

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Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.

Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk

Word count: 4.7k

He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.

Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:

‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’

Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.

But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:

“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”

And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.

Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.

If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.

With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.

Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.

No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.

Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.

Where the FUCK was his cum?

In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.

He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.

“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”

But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.

You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.

“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.

Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

“How come?”

“‘Cause I said.”

How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.

“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.

But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.

Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.

He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.

He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:

“Jo-el—”

“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.

“Push?”

“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”

You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.

Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.

And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.

At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.

You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.

He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.

You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.

Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.

“Joel, what’s—”

“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”

Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.

“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”

Well, fuck.

Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.

“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.

An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.

“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”

You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.

“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.

You’re old.

Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.

“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”

You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?

For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.

Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.

“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”

What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.

He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.

“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”

You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.

Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.

Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—

“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.

“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.

Joel carried on without a hitch.

“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”

You nodded along, not hearing a word.

“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”

Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.

“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”

That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:

“My own age?”

Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.

You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.

“What?”

Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.

“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”

Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’

And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.

This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.

“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.

No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.

Smiling a little, too.

“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.

“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”

Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.

“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”

You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.

“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”

“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”

Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.

“Baby…”

To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.

Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.

You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.

It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.

Feels nice.

Tastes alright, too.

You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.

“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”

Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.

And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.

“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.

Joel cursed under his breath.

“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”

“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”

As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again

“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “��don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”

In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.

He communicated as much by moving to pull out.

You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.

“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”

Of course, it had been Joel.

Always, always him—the only one, in fact.

Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:

‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’

He couldn’t.

Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.

But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.

“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.

“I do.”

In fact, he loved it.

“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?

Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.

Idiocy.

“Just once?” Joel croaked.

Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.

“Just one?” you murmured back.

He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.

“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.

“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.

Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.

“One?” Joel panted. Confused.

He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.

“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.

Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.

“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”

The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.

In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”

Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.

“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”

Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.

To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.

“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Let the neighbors talk.

Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:

“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.

The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.

Something to stick.

“Please say it, baby.”

Someone to call yours.

“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.

A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.

“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”

As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”

“Ri— right there. Right there.”

Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.

It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.

Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it

“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”

He kissed the tip of yours.

“Hope they get this.”

He kissed either one of your cheeks.

“These too.”

You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.

The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.

Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.

There it is.

#IN CONCLUSION……….WE MAKIN BABIES #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us fic

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sinnaminsuga · 9 months ago

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𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖉𝖏𝖆𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖙 - sub!hyunjin x sub!reader x dom!chan

wc: 2,804

cw: hyunjin is a slut, so is the reader, chan likes it that way. SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: while shooting the red lights mv chan noticed something about hyunjin and now he's got a theory he wants to test, he just needs your help.

a/n: was literally plagued with visions of overstimulating hyunjin and making him cry soooo this is what i ended up with. oops. also if there are any spelling errors pls don't tell me bc ive read this trash so many times trying to work it all out and if i have to re-read it again i might go blind.

sw: dirty talk, daddy kink, unprotected sex (pls be smarter than that), bondage, threesome, some gay shit, breeding, blowjobs, lingerie, deepthroating, general toughness, waxing poetic about hyunjins beautiful face. idk probably more but im bad at this shit.

hwang hyunjin is beautiful. its a well documented fact, no ifs ands or buts about it. he has the kind of face ancient civilizations would have gone to war for. old world dynasties would have been reduced to rubble over a face like his. hwang hyunjin is the kind of beautiful where it almost hurts to look at him. it makes you question your belief in a higher power because, how could there possibly be any room for debate on if there is a God when there is simply no other reasonable explanation for how a devine creature like him came to exist on this earth? so with all that being said, there's no way he could get any more beautiful. or so you thought.

it had always been your assumption that there was no possible way he could look any more stunning than he naturally does; but your mind was changed the minute you saw the lithe expanses of his smooth milky skin held captive by blood red ropes. you felt an astounding amount of pride as your eyes bore witness to his soft flesh being pulled tight by the coarse material; the blood under his skin rushing to the surface where the ropes were knotted artfully over his collarbone, across his abdomen, splayed over his pelvis, looped around his upper thighs and finally circling the base of his dick. and you had worked hard to make sure the knots around his wrists and ankles were comfortable yet sturdy before attaching them to each bedpost.

you had taken your instructions very seriously, as the man giving them to you from edge of the bed, wouldn't allow any of this to continue if either of you were to disobey his direct orders, and dear god you would rather die than see this endeavor be cut short.

you admired your handiwork a bit more before the rumbling of a particular voice hit your ears.

“how do you feel baby? is this what you wanted? y/n did a good job huh? you look so pretty.” chan spoke softly to hyunjin, absentmindedly petting his head. hyunjin looked up at his leader and nodded, unsure if he could speak without whining as the ropes pulled across his body with every move.

“yeah i knew you'd like this. the whole time we were shooting “red lights” i saw you ya know? the way your breathing got shallow when the staff chained you up. the way your eyes glazed over when they gave you instructions to pull against your restraints. god, standing above you on that bed, watching you writhe below me was a sight to see. my good boy just wanted to be tied up and used huh?” chan said to him, his finger hooked under hyunjin's chin forcing his head up to look him in the eyes. a whimper forced its way out of him as his hips instinctually bucked and the the sensation of the ropes took over.

you couldn't drag your eyes away from his lower body. the sharp angle of his hipbones jutting up to the ceiling as his cock drooled uncontrollably, the fluid flowing from his tip dribbling down to darken the rope wrapped snugly around the base of him. without even thinking you reached out and wrapped your hand around his shaft, you were just so overwhelmed with the desire to touch him. the feeling was unexpected and the sound that punched its way out of hyunjin's chest was glorious. his body attempted to curl in on itself but the ropes kept him firmly in place. you watched the range of emotions flicker over his face in rapid succession; surprise at your initial touch, pleasure from finally being granted a little stimulation, sensitivity from being denied his pleasure for so long, shock when he remembered the restraints keeping him spread open, frustration at not being able to move, and finally acceptance as he gave in to the languid stroking you were doing. he continued to toss as the pleasure took over, thrashing wildly against the mattress and moaning into the pillow.

hyunjin's noises were reduced to whimpers as chan’s hand squeezed around his jaw, directing hyunjin to look him in the eyes. “shhh baby boy, y/n is gonna make you feel good okay? you'll let her do that, won’t you? you'll lay there and take what i let her give you, understood? words please, jinnie.” chan cooed. “yes daddy. i'll be good for you, for her too i promise. i'll be your perfect boy just like always, i promise, please! god just please keep touching me!” hyunjin choked out, making chan grin. he leapt up from where he was perched on the edge of the bed and rounded the corner until he was standing behind you. you repressed a shudder as chan’s hand slid up your back, tracing over your spine and occasionally tripping over the straps of the lingerie set you were wearing. his hand glided up into your hair with ease until his palm cradled the base of your skull, then suddenly he locked his fingers to grab your hair firmly by the roots and pulled you upright so your back was against his chest as he angled your head to the left exposing the expanse of your neck. the suddenness of his movements caused you to lose your grip on hyunjin’s dick and he cried out from the loss of contact, his hips frantically bucking into the air in a fruitless attempt to find friction.

chan hummed as his lips made contact with the skin of your neck and continued as he licked, nipped, and sucked at your flesh. he hooked his chin over your shoulder as his right hand charted a course down your abdomen to the apex of your thighs where the pads of his thick fingers rubbed over your damp slit. when you could finally manage to pry your lids open, you locked eyes with hyunjin. he was practically panting watching chan devour your throat and palm your pussy. “so pretty y/n, y’look so pretty. like a dream. want to paint you one day, just like that.” he whispered. hyunjin's words and gaze coupled with chan's wandering hands and skilled mouth were almost enough to send you over the edge.

“now here’s what's next my loves. y/n, you're going to get on your knees, lean down on your elbows and suck hyunjin's pretty dick right into the back of your throat okay? i want you to take him as far as you can, and quickly. do not stop until i tell you to. not if he begs, not if he cries, not if he screams. got it?” you nodded as well as you could with his left hand still in your hair. chan released you and you quickly got into the position he had described, gently grabbing hold of hyunjin's cock. “i’m sorry jinnie, but you know i have to.” you quipped right before you took him into your mouth and as far into your throat as you could manage. the garbled noise that ripped its way out of hyunjin's throat threw you into over drive as you bobbed your head and sucked him like your life depended on it. he was groaning deeply and his limbs were flailing the best they could in his current predicament. his back arched up off the mattress so beautifully you wished chan would take a photo.

“fuck, fuck, FUCK. jesus chri- oh my god! y/n, sweetheart slow down- PLEASE! oh fuck i can- i can feel- fucking fuck. i can feel your throat squeezing me so tight!” hyunjin wailed throwing his head back, the veins in his neck becoming more prominent as he grit his teeth.

suddenly chan’s hand made its way to your pussy again and you gasped around the thickness embedded in your throat causing hyunjin to hiss.

“crotchless panties angel? so proud of you. always so prepared for daddy huh? know just what i like.” chan muttered from behind you. you heard the telltale jingle of his belt being opened and the zipper being lowered on his jeans. he had already removed his shirt earlier so he was naked quickly, and he wasted no time before rubbing the head of his dick along your weeping folds.

“now i'm going to fuck you nice and deep the way you like and i want you to keep sucking my good boy okay?” chan said but before you could respond he shoved himself into you in one swift thrust. chan was not small in girth or length for that matter but the stretch you felt every time he fucked you open was delicious. you couldn't help but moan around the cock in your mouth which in turn caused hyunjin to scream at the unexpected vibration. chan’s laugh that followed was dark and proud, thrilled that he held so much power and that you both let him use it.

“fuuuuck sweet girl this cunt is always so fucking tight huh? doesn't matter how many times i fuck you or let someone else fuck you, you always snap right back. god i love being inside you.” chan growled as his hands gripped your hips and held you steady as he pummeled his way in and out of your slippery hole. the whole time he was fucking you, you were being forced onto hyunjin's cock as well, every moan muffled by the thickness battering your throat.

“hyunjin is y/n a good cocksucker? hmm? you think? you think she's better than you were?” chan taunted him as he drove himself inside you over and over again. “remember when we had our first one on one meeting? just me and you alone in the studio? i said 'hyunjin if you really are serious and want to stay in this group i need one thing from you’ do you remember that? i do.” you could hear the grin in his voice even if you couldn't see him. hyunjin groaned and mumbled what sounded like a yes. “i also remember how fast you sank to your knees and scrambled to try and open my belt. you thought i wanted you to suck me off to stay in the band. and you were so willing to give me whatever i wanted. all i was going to ask you for was your loyalty and your honesty in all things. but you offered up that pretty mouth quick as a bitch and who was i to say no?” chan laughed at the memory as he threw a foot up onto the bed to change the angle he was fucking into you from so he was now nailing your gspot on every thrust.

“y-yes i remember. ‘course i do. i knew w-what you were gonna ask me because felix told me beforehand what you were going to ask, what you asked a-all of them. i just- fuck yes keep sucking y/n im so close. i jus’ wanted you so bad i thought if i tried and y-you didn't want me back it would just be an easily brushed off m-misunderstanding.” hyunjin whined, his hands balled up into fists, knuckles white.

“y/n suck him dry. now.” chan ordered and you sucked harder pulling a squeal out of hyunjin. “go on sweet boy. go ahead and cum. you earned it.” chan encouraged as he delivered a heavy smack to your ass. your muffled yelp was the final straw and hyunjin came hard into your mouth, his body attempting to lurch off the bed. you swallowed everything down and pulled off of him, replacing your mouth with your hand. as chan continued to ram into you, you mirrored his thrusts with the fist wrapped tightly around hyunjin's still hard cock.

“stop stop stop please! god please i can- i can't take it! it's too sensitive please!” hyunjin cried. “yes you can baby. you can take it. trust me.” chan cooed. feeling bold you leaned forward once again and sucked hyunjin's tip harshly while lashing the tip of your tongue over his slit.

“FUCK! no no no no it's too m- too much. stop stop stop!” hyunjin continued to wail. he was begging you to relent but he also didn't use his safeword so you knew he didnt really want it to stop. the sound was like music to chan's ears and the rhythmic clenching of your cunt around him propelled him quickly toward his own orgasm.

“i'm gonna cum in you okay baby? gonna breed this pretty pussy, stuff it full of my cum. that what you want? yeah it is isn't it?” chan rambled and you moaned out a “yes please daddy” right before he exploded inside you. your hand around hyunjin never stopped moving and he was crying now. big fat tears rolling down his cheeks from the overstimulation.

chan pulled out of you and watched your hole flutter, pushing out his seed. he murmured a string of praises as he watched the glistening fluid drip out of you. you looked over your shoulder at him, jutting your lower lip out.

“daddy i didn't get to cum yet. can i?” you asked.

“go ahead baby. make yourself cum.” chan said with a wave of his hand and an evil grin etched on his face. you grinned right back before scrambling up hyunjin's body and straddling him.

“wh-what are you doing? oh...oh no. no no no. please it's so sensitive it's so so sensitive y/n i can't!” hyunjin hiccuped, tears still flowing. you leaned forward and ran your tongue up his cheek, lapping up the briny liquid seeping from his eyes. then you whispered “oh jinnie, don't you want me to feel good too? i worked so hard after all.” you reached behind you and positioned his tip at your entrance before effortlessly sliding down onto him. you moaned as he filled you and he once again thrashed against the ropes wrapped around him. you started to ride him in earnest, aching for your own release at this point. the man beneath you was mumbling incoherently about how good your pussy feels and how badly he wants to come again. chan sauntered over and perched next to hyunjin again, reaching out to pet his head and pepper his face with kisses.

“i’m gonna cum, fuck i'm gonna cum!” you cried as you worked yourself over hyunjin’s dick and used one hand to furiously rub your clit.

“daddy shes squeezing me so hard i don't think i ca- can get out. can i cum inside?” hyunjin pleaded with chan. “of course you can baby, right sweetheart? you want jinnie’s cum inside you don't you?” you just nodded in response. “my girl loves to be creampied you never have to ask. just go ahead baby boy.” chan explained. you drove yourself down onto hyunjin twice more and then you were cumming, mouth dropping open as your inner walls milked him for all he was worth. hyunjin spasmed beneath you as he came and came and came inside you. he wasn't speaking anymore, just making these stunted little sounds as his body shook with the aftershocks of his second orgasm.

chan had begun to untie the ropes as you slowly lifted yourself off of hyunjin. you whispered praise to him as he has hummed, completely fucked out and boneless beneath you.

“shhh it's okay sweetheart. you did so good for us baby. we’re gonna put you to bed now okay?” chan murmured to the man shaking in the bed. hyunjin managed to croak out an “uh-huh” in response. you grabbed a bottle of lotion from nearby and began to work it into the reddened skin all over him where the ropes had been, while chan wiped down hyunjin's groin with a warm cloth. you hummed a tune you knew hyunjin loved and his eyes fluttered shut, a tiny smile making its way to his face.

after everything was put away and the room was right again, chan crawled into the bed to spoon hyunjin’s half asleep form while you crawled in the other side to press yourself to hyunjin's still somewhat heaving chest. you pulled the blanket up high and tucked yourself into his warm skin and he wound an arm around your waist. chan's hand rested on hyunjin's hip, squeezing the flesh there every so often.

being here felt so right, so natural, so easy. loving these two was as easy as breathing. you couldn't believe it had taken this long to get here but now that you had, you weren't letting them go. before your eyes fell closed you heard the sound of chan's lips kissing along hyunjin's shoulder before he whispered “rest now my loves. because i have big plans for you tomorrow.”

THE END

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girlbossagenda · 16 days ago

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baeeeee advice on crushes? school is coming up and i know there’s bound to be one fine man in class 👩🏽‍💻

ADVICE ON CRUSHES THAT ONLY CUPID WUOLD KNOW / HOW TO WIN YOUR CRUSH’S HEART

Hi gorgeous, how lovely! It's been a while since I gave actual love advice that does not regard my besties boyfriend ahaha, so you want a fine man? I got you.

୨୧ signature fragrances and pheromones ୨୧

I love fragrances, and do a lot of research regarding them, I found out about pheromones and I suggest you to try them out, words on the street some people swear that they work(some don’t), you can find them on etsy, I always suggest to take a look at the reviews!

Make sure to always smell in a certain way or generally to smell good, avoid overpowering smells, go for re-applicable or lighter smells, for this is suggest layering or using just a body mist, seeming like an hygenical person makes people gravitate towards you more, also idk why but I always get stuck on feminine scents

୨୧ take care of your hair ୨୧

I feel like this is really important, try to play around with hairstyles or to have a signature one, here's why they both benefit you:

if you switch up hairstyles you keep it fresh, and you can attract curiosity and you knind of understand what looks good on you and you can be more fluid which attracts more people

if you keep a signature hairstyle you're more recognizable, do it enogh to get associated to it, it adds an it factor!

୨୧ Create a signature style ୨୧

I suggest you to check my “how to be pretty when you’re feeling lazy” guide

Now why is having a signature style at school so important? You’re just more recognizable! It’s easier also to stand out in an environment where everyone wears grey sweatpants(looking like they totally gave up on themself😭) and hoodies with air 1

୨୧ Partecipate in class ୨୧

Don’t lose focus on your studies, show that you’re hardworking and smart! Also it’s easier to focus on romance when you know you’re grades are in place, it feels less stressful and you might get approached easily for when it comes to study help or maybe you can find yourself a smart nerdy handsome man that wants to go on study dates with you!

୨୧ Have a signature space ୨୧

Have a spot where people can find you or that they associate with you, you might as well not be there everyday, but be consistent, when you do this you might notice people are going and try to get that place, that’s because it’s an easy way to be notice, “who’s that girl that always sit/eat/hangouts there?”

Now this are the tips that come in my mind! Also a really important one is to improve your communication skills, it will be helpful! And remember focus first on yourself, then on men, that’s all gorg💕

xoxo

-𝓐

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fasolabean · 1 month ago

Text

warninggg this is a long one ,,,

(Okay so I started writing this uhhh vent before more posts on the n//fts appeared later so plz keep that in mind hah)

So I haven’t been too active on here for the past month – a bit personal start, but I’ve moved to a different country whooo!!!! (its terrifying) (my brains been involved in fandom stuff as usual but physically I wasn’t lmao).

But I wanted to talk ab the n//ft (censoring bc idk ab bots here) thing bc while some people on here provided some great context and threads, most of the talk has happened on twitter. So like. Since it was first confirmed what the raffle thing was I was veryyyy disappointed, especially bc K has made fun of this very thing on stage previously. And like yea, the nature of what hes doing is different than the n//ft crypt0 scams, since the cost of the paywalled content is set and not fluid and the raffle thing was free to enter, and I know there have been threads about the website not being the worst on twitter (link) (edit: now here on tumblr too). But still man. Both of these could’ve been done on either an independent website or through stuff like youtube members or patreon. Or hell, even just on the merch store? Like buy a promo code that buys you access to the material?

Also like I get that this was probably a contract that would be rly hard if not impossible to terminate. STILL though, I wish we just got an even short thing like “hi sorry I wasn’t aware this is gonna be a one time thing we’re not doing it again”. I don’t mind extra content being paywalled personally, I know some people do, but I just really wish it wasn’t don’t with that technology. And yes, I also now know it’s a safer way to handle shit like that but I just cant see this excuse being used for commercial use? Like maybe I can see why I could be made to use it for like idk an important document, but a raffle ticket? Nah

I also, ugh. Felt weird about mikke in the team since the winter. This whole thing seems to be – at least to a large extent – either done or influenced by him, judging by even the fact that the europass thingy webpage has oy photomikke marked (no im not buying it but i did look around curiosity was stronger). Also the previous thing that had made me go hmmm about käärijä as a brand was the bnb, which now seems to be ran entirely by mikke and his wife. Like stick to your photos man? That being said tho, Jere IS an adult and he IS the face of this brand. If he doesn’t think hes qualified to make business decisions all by himself (which I get, this shit is hard), nothing is stopping him really from getting a professional to help him with those things. And if there IS something stopping him then hey man I think you should go to the press with that lol. From any interviews ive seen or read, you can feel he feels this responsibility to keep his friends and family that initially helped him afloat. But I wish he understood that not letting people who in the end are not professional about business and PR and having them stick to their own thing does not have to mean cutting them off.

But now I just wanna share a thought that to some might seem like me defending him – which, in case you didn’t get I am very much not lmao. The thing is, im really glad the fandom is able to call him out on a shitty thing – like a bad baaad business decision. You can like somebody’s art, hell you can even like the public person they are, while not agreeing with everything what they do. What annoys me though, is that apart of the kä fandom, he is also often talked about (usually negatively) in the wider esc fandom. Over the past week I’ve seen multiple threads on twitter from people that rarely ever mention him about this. That would’ve been like, not that much of a deal (though sometimes it really got… engagement bait-y) but the amount of bodyshaming and shaming of his fans that comes up with every valid criticism is making me wanna pull my hair out.

Especially cause he’s neither the first finnish esc-related artist to do that (Robin and Cyan Kicks are mentioned on the kollekt website) nor is he the first esc artist of his influence to do it either. Last year Loreen and Alessandra have released n//fts last year, and Loreen did a very similar raffle a couple months ago. Now I wanna be very clear: I don’t want this to be like. Cancelling these people, that would be so hypocritical of me. I also don’t want this to be like a fandom war like oh youre mad he did xyz?? Well THIS and THIS person did THAT!!1! I’m just merely annoyed that these people doing essentially the same thing went with no echo at all, but now I’ve seen us (the fandom) be literally called the r slur and the most vile things being said about jere and, for some reason, his appearance???

Idk man. I really try to make it clear im not trying to excuse his decisions and I think being angry and/or disappointed at him is absolutely understandable. Im just angry that every single time he fucks up, every single time he makes a mistake, my timeline is filled with a wave of people rejoicing in it. I know he’s a controversial figure, he’s been one since day one, but I just wish he’s gotten the same amount of shit his peers do for the same actions? And this happens every time, and each time im like “well ig I can see why hes so bad when it comes to criticism”. Because imagine doing a thing that your peers have done with no/minimal criticism and then the moment you try it out you get people calling your fans slurs and commenting how stupid you are. Like ngl id also think any criticism was hate lmao.

Again I wanna be very VERY clear im very critical ab what he chose to do. I wish he took some responsibility – and hope he maybe does, at some point in the future. This year has been a whole lot of bad business decisions for the käärijä brand in my eyes, and I hope he can actually see where its gone wrong and do something about it, both for his and our sake. I am also happy to see fellow fans who are able to call out their fave. But man I am TIRED of him just getting all the shit (from people who very visibly fans are not)?? And now I have the proof that it is comparably more than other people and not just my bias towards him because wdym there’s been at least 4 esc artists, 2 of which more famous than him, and 2 umk artists doing exactly the same thing with almost no echo??

TLDR (thishasover1kwordsfuckshit); I wish he did better, simply. I kinda cling to some hope that maybe hey finally this time he will see that criticism can be constructive. I think this is still a level of fucking up that you can like, come back from. Pity it’s connected to the eurotour since kinda souring my excitement ab my first concert in a new country a bit :(

#käärijä #idk this is like lowkey a vent and a summary of everything i said to my friend recently #i promise ill post some photos of yarn boy seeing belgium and the netherlands soon cause yea ofc hes with me rn #to lighten the mood #the last few points were building up in me for like over a year but this was truly a confirmation tho i wish it wasnt in such circumstances #also you can disagree with literally every single point that im making but id ask to just be respectful we're in this together after all

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years ago

Note

Do you write nsfw fics? If so could you write a Price x Reader based off the song “Guys My Age” by Hey Violet please and thank you :)

Lustful Gold and a Crimson-Stained Tongue

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: It was supposed to be simple -- an intel Op. in some Russian Arms Dealer's mansion. Hell, you were actually looking forward to it, especially with the way John was undressing you with his eyes. You hoped that the red silk dress you had gotten made it through the night. (18+)

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings: Attempted SA, NSFW, Porn with Plot, smut, angst, fluff, praise kink, blood kink (?) (Not really but Idk), saliva, lots of fluids, P in V, dry humping, age gap

A/N: This is literally a virgin writing smut for the first time so it's legally obligated to be cringe -- but thank you for giving me the opportunity (I've crossed a line that I can't go back over). I took a bit of creative liberty with the request, so it's slightly different than what you might expect. Anyways, enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

“Tilt your head to the side for me, Love,” John mutters, eyebrows turned in as he holds a black earpiece in his fingers before placing the device into where you would need it delicately; making sure it wouldn’t fall out, “There we are.”

“John,” You scoff softly, “You’re holding me like I’m going to be crucified and not just going to a dinner party to get intel.”

“What kind of man would I be if I didn’t worry about my girl?” He raises a brow, taking a step back from where he had you tight up against his chest, “A piss poor one, I’d say.”

You stifle a laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides as your cheeks heat with love and gratitude. It felt good to be suffocated by his careful nature – even if that didn’t really sound appealing. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Now,” John crosses his arms, nodding his head as the black beanie on his head lightly tilts at the action, “Let me see you, Sweetheart.”

“What, do you want me to do a spin too, you pervert?” You were dressed to the nines, gold gleaming around your neck and wrists, elaborate braids twisting part of your hair to rest in a bun while the rest falls to shroud the black device that lies dormant in your right ear. It’ll come to life shortly – when you finally make your way to the mission sight; the location was some rich asshole’s mansion.

No doubt the party you were going to was nothing more than an excuse to boost the target’s ego with grand displays of money and sultry attendants. It sounded positively enticing, you thought – though, John was making it quite difficult to want to leave with how he was undressing you with his eyes.

Around your body, a tight-fitting red silk dress hugged you just right, accenting everything good about you and showing off enough to entice anyone with a functioning brain. Fuck, the way it wrapped your hips made even you drool; the dripping neckline was perfectly eye-catching as well. John had told you that you looked like a goddess before you had even put it on, but he seemed to want to say more when he watched you slip into it smoothly, the practiced fluidity in your bones helping you move sensually.

The man had been laying naked on the hotel bed with nothing more than a thin bed sheet wrapped around his sculpted pelvis, the rest of the fabric hanging off the side and pooling on the floor. A cigar had been held loosely in his lips, and when you turned to ask his opinion, he nearly dropped it with the way his mouth had opened.

Your ego had taken a steep incline as the Captain’s pupils had dilated, turning that shade of storm blue as dark as the shadows outside the window. Unconsciously, you had rubbed your thighs together to stop the pooling heat that beings to form as his lower half jerked instinctually from the bed. You weren’t even sure he noticed his physical reaction.

“Fuck,” John mutters in front of you, bringing you back to the present. He lets his eyes trail slowly, “Doll, I’d bloody pay you to do anything you want to me.” A smirk filters from your lips.

“You really like the dress, don’t you, hm?”

He doesn’t hesitate, “Yeah, lie of the century, that is,” You raise a brow, confusion leaking into your beating pulse as he saunters closer with a sway in his alluring hips. The packs and objects on his black combat vest press into your upper stomach as he leans into you, carefully shoving you back into the body-length mirror attached to the wall. John leans close, his breath fanning over the hot skin of your exposed neck; the rouge of your painted lips open as your lungs tighten with expectation. You want desperately to shove him back into bed and rip his damn gear off. Or maybe just let him fuck you with it on, really…you lusted over that shit, “I bloody fucken’ love it.”

His lips find your pulse point, moving the gold necklace farther up your skin with his nose, causing your head to slam back into the mirror with a muffled thump. John chuckles as you eagerly open your neck to him more, glancing at your face from the side. Your heart was beating like a lion’s, being able to be seen through the thin silk.

“Eager, are we? I thought I had tired you out not an hour ago?”

You had, You had wanted to say, but only a needy whimper falls from your lips as his teeth graze your skin. The ache from your prior activities was set deep into your thighs and lower body, making a promise to cause hell when you have to walk in heels soon.

But, God, did you love it.

Your hand weaves its way under John’s black athletic shirt, finding the tight available skin and digging your red acrylic nails over it. You force the man forward, his deep-chested grunt leading to a full-body shiver not a second later. Something hard and solid presses into your abdomen and you look up at him with half-lidded eyes, panting as a trail of saliva follows John as he pulls back from your neck to watch you.

“Who’s eager now, Captain?” John’s hands snap to your thighs, smirking as he’s dragging one to his waist. You lick your lips as he presses deeply into you with his clothed erection, making the heat in your core burst into a raging fire at the stiffness, a slick feeling coating your panties. Your thigh comes to rest on his waistline, and he holds it there with an iron hand.

“John,” You whimper as he begins to move you, lightly rocking back and forth as your hips jerk to meet his.

“Fuck,” He groans, pressing his forehead to your own as he grips your waist tight with his free hand. The man pulls your thigh into him with every thrust, fingers digging so hard the skin is already indented, “If only you could see yourself, Love,” A low whimper enters the air, muffled when John connects his lips with yours with heavy open-mouth kisses as his beard rubs over your flesh. The both of you move in sync, using the other to get off as quickly and as cleanly as possible in the limited time. The zipper of his pants connects with your bundle of nerves, making you moan and writhe against him like a bitch in heat. John pulls back to grunt into your mouth as his hips press you farther into the mirror with a particularly hard thrust once more, making sure to hit that spot again. Always so attentive. Your back arches as you keen breathily, hands roaming his abdomen and digging into the muscle there to ground yourself as you rut. The slick in your panties drips down your free leg in a disgustingly pleasurable tear, “Fucken’ perfect in that dress.”

That’s when there’s a knock on the door.

Snapping out of your hazes, you both whip back to stare at each other with wide eyes before your heads turn to the door. The fire stills, pauses, unsure if you both should continue. You want to. Your breasts are pressed tightly to John’s chest, and every breath makes you want the Captain to grip them in his hands and squeeze.

“...You two had better be decent!” Gaz’s voice wafts in from under the crack, making both of your eyes widen comedically, “The rest of us had to plug earbuds in to drown out the sounds from an hour ago. Honestly…the pair of you can’t go a few bloody minutes without fucking?”

Your face heats, twin scorching suns taking home over your cheeks. Immediately, all thoughts of lust are shut off like being doused with a bucket of cold water.

Still leaning into you, John groans, leading his body to vibrate perfectly. You stifle a needy whine as your hips rock once more, slick beginning to uncomfortably drip to the side of your knee. You would have to change your underwear before you left. And redo your makeup.

“Fuck off, Sergeant, before I come out there.”

“I’d rather you don’t come anywhere, Sir.” Slapping a hand over your mouth you try to stifle the loud bark of laughter that finds the air, the shadow under the door slinks off with a finishing call of, “Laswell said five minutes before we leave, yeah?!”

Your chest vibrates with humor, head lightly meeting John’s chest as he lowers your thigh and lets you place your foot on the ground. Laughing, you feel the man’s arms wrap around your body pulling you to gently sway back and forth.

“Damn the boy,” Price mutters into your head, “Should put him on desk duty for a month for that.”

“Oh, come on,” You respond, pulling back to look at him with a smile as your eyes light, “That was funny.”

“Hm,” he rests his bearded chin on your forehead, the small bristles getting caught in some of your baby hairs as he lays a gentle kiss on your skin.

You both stay like that for a minute or two, content as you listen to the heavy beating of each other’s hearts and the slight pants of air falling from your lips. The lustful heat was dead, and in its place duty grew.

It was time to get to work.

—

“Price?” You tilt your head to the side, slipping the gold and diamond earrings on as you whisper into the earpiece, “What are the chances that I can steal some of the appetizers and stuff them into my handbag?”

“I’d say less than probable, Love.” Layered behind John’s amused voice, Laswell pipes up, the sound of shifting bodies letting you know that many people were waiting on you to exit the Limo. You had no idea how they could see you but were put at ease that they were able to.

“You’ll have plenty of time to eat later, Bravo 1-6, no need to worry. Let’s just focus on the mission for now.” You pouted as Kate spoke, newly applied lipstick pulling at your skin as you moved your hands away from your ears and fixed your strands of hair. Under you, the leather seats of the vehicle are insanely comfortable.

“You guys are no fun.” Sighing, your hands stop their fiddling, falling to your lap as you huff, “If the silverware is gold plaited you bet your ass I’m shoving it down my bra – and I don’t care how much you complain, I’m taking it.”

Just as you stop plotting your mini heist, the car door to your right opens with a pop, snapping your thoughts back to the task at hand.

A tall Doorman your age is on the outside, dressed in a handsome black suit and red bowtie as the chilled night air seeps into the car. He holds out a hand to you, and after a second of hesitation, you plaster an innocent smile on your face; eyelids fluttering prettily. It was shocking how fast you could change your outward attitude.

“Oh,” You purr, head tilting, “Such a gentleman. Thank you, Sweetheart.” Placing your hand in his, your jewelry jangles as the Doorman helps you out of the car, carefully gripping your hand in his own gloved one.

“Erm…I-Invitation, Ma’am.” He mutters, face amusingly red as he stares at you; unable to make eye contact for more than three seconds. He drops his hand but leaves it outstretched as you take a step away from the vehicle.

You smirk.

“Of course,” Flicking your tiny handbag open with nimble fingers, your hand delves inside. The smooth surface of a stamped envelope connects with your searching digits, but your knuckles tantalizingly brush the tiny knife sewn into the lining of your bag. With a giggle, you grab the invitation and hold it out. In your grip, it’s held loosely between your pointer and middle finger. You tilt your head as he takes it.

“I’ve heard Mr. Bogdanov throws the most wonderful events – when I’d been told, I forced my father to get me an invitation to the next. Can you believe he almost denied me?” Bringing a hand to your mouth, you cover the convincing laugh that meets the chilled air politely, “Insanity! As if I could miss this!”

God, You think to yourself, this is humiliating. John and the others always get the fun jobs.

“Yes, Ma’am,” The Doorman, “Mr. Bogdanov is always happy to see new faces on his estate. Especially ones as beautiful as yours.”

Your earpiece crackles for a moment, and you swore you heard John mutter, “Muppet,” into your earlobe.

Stifling a violent snort, you shuffle your heeled feet.

“Oh,” You watch the Doorman check the invitation, flicking it open and checking the signature on the bottom with flushed cheeks as he blatantly moves to stare at your clothed breasts, “Flatterer.”

“You’re all good, Ma’am,” He clears his throat, shakily handing you back the paper, “Enjoy your night.”

Snatching the invitation, you smile his way before walking up the red-carpeted stairs ahead, hearing muttered conversations flowing out into the night. You try not to ogle at the humongous house that the Target has, multiple stories and windows larger than a damn tree coupled with white paint. The front garden alone was the size of multiple football fields.

“...This place is definitely in that ‘World's Top Ten Biggest Houses’ video online.”

Gaz’s voice chuckles through the line, making your lip quirk.

“I think I’ve seen that one before!”

“The both of you are chaos incarnate.”

“Damn right, Laswell,” You murmur, eyebrows furrowing at the radio silence from John. He was usually hyping you up by now, whispering in that husky voice to leave you flustered. It was your favorite part of these missions – his grumble in your head leaving your lungs heaving and cheeks hot.

So this attitude was very confusing, to say the least, but you can’t dwell on it. The front doors open as you walk up to them; butlers waiting outside for the guests – all excellently dressed.

Their eyes boggle out of their heads when they see you, and skurry to make sure you don’t have to wait outside any longer.

“Thank you, boys,” You sing, waving a hand as you saunter past, enjoying the attention but wishing it was from someone else.

This would have been so much more fun if John was here. He would have made jokes about everyone's outfits with me.

Your chest tightens, and you frown. Something was wrong with your Captain, you knew it. Not able to handle it any longer as your heels click over marble and the laughs and sounds of conversation get closer, you speak.

“John,” You clutch your handbag, eyes flickering back and forth, “You with me?”

“...Sorry, Bravo 1-6,” Kate’s voice is not the one you want to hear right now, “Price said he had to step out for a moment.”

“What–?!”

“Ahh, and who might this be,” Sputtering, the sudden deep Russian voice to your side makes you reel, head snapping to the side, “Such a stunning woman…unfortunately, it seems I don’t know your name, лисичка.”

“A-Allegra Bayley, daughter of Braylon Bayley,” You find yourself answering with the fake name and family you had been given hours earlier, “and who might you…” Trailing off, your eyes widen slowly. Staring at the sharply dressed man two times bigger than a bear, with muscles so large the suit nearly looks like it’ll rip, you feel your hands get sweaty; you grip your handbag tighter. He’s so tall you have to tilt your head up to see his face.

You wish you hadn’t.

Not that the gargantuan stranger wasn’t handsome - in a rugged sort of criminal type of way because his nose had been obviously broken multiple times – it's that you had seen his dead eyes before: staring back at you from the confines of a manila folder Laswell had slid over to you two weeks ago. The Target.

Kazimir Bogdanov, Your heart picks up speed, pulsing like a rabbit’s behind its fur – only you had no fur. The only thing over you was a thin dress of flowing silk and gold jewelry. The tiny knife in your bag wouldn’t do much against him. Suddenly, you desperately wanted John’s thick leather jacket and beanie to cover your skin; confidence slowly leaking because of the glint in Bogdanov’s icy eyes.

No…you just wanted John; his heavy presence behind you, like a watchdog ready to strike at any threat to come near you, only held back by a thin shred of decency that develops in your presence. You wanted him to be there to back you up, but with tight shoulders, you knew he wasn’t – only open-air and the scent of expensive perfume and money encompassed you.

You were on your own.

Kazimir is a weapons dealer with ties to multiple foreign terror organizations throughout the entire world – playing every side and never coming out physically covered in blood because of business. Metaphorically speaking, the man was drowning in crimson.

The number of deaths he had caused was astronomical and rising by the day.

“Mr. Bogdanov,” A sweet smile slips to your lips, but your heart tells you to run. You had expected time to get the layout of the mansion, mingle, and get used to the environment. Hell, you still needed to figure out where the food was! You’d barely gotten through the giant fucking doors! This wasn't good.

The earpiece picks up a sharp inhale from the line, bodies shifting, and a muffled call to someone.

“It’s a pleasure. Please,” You frown, shaking your head and waving an arm, “Forgive my incompetence. The majesty of your estate…well…It’s blinded me. I’m utterly entranced.”

“You said you were Braylon Bayley’s daughter, yes?” Kazimir murmurs, fixing the red tie around his neck with ringed fingers as thick as branches, “I remember he had sons,” Narrowing his eyes, you try your best not to panic, “but he never mentioned a daughter to me.”

“Oh, You know how fathers are. The bastard kept me from everyone,” You reply lightly leaning forward and bringing two hands to the side of your lips, “Business, you know. Tricky stuff.”

“Hm,” The Russian grunts, and his biceps tense for a moment. He watches you like a piece of meat, eyes trailing up and down as he smirks. The various scars over his face twist, “Mr. Bayley has been incredibly generous this year with his erm, donations…I can’t think of a better way to repay him than to entertain his lovely лисичка for the night. Please, accompany me.”

You blink innocently and pull your lips back into a naive smile, imagining John giving you that look instead and letting heat flood your cheeks as a result.

“I’d love nothing more.”

He talks about taking you to a lounge, walking with your hand in the crook of his arm as you pass envious onlookers that burn you with their eyes and sneers. You try not to look so nervous but can’t help the way your heart pounds. The jewelry on your wrists and neck glint as if to try and comfort you; offering winks with their tiny diamond eyes.

As if it were so easy to turn off all of your emotions and be as numb as gold.

Maybe this had been a mistake.

The earpiece crackles, “Get him to talk about his latest deal,” Laswell murmurs to you, “I want details; you can’t leave until he mentions his buyer.”

“Or if you feel like you’ve been burned,” Gaz pipes in and you hear a rustle of fabric, “Your safety is the highest priority, Ma’am. Don’t jeopardize it just for the mission,” Then, jokingly, “The Captain would wring my neck.”

He’d do more than that, You want to answer, but hold your tongue, only sighing as you pass a grand table filled with amazing-looking food. Studying it longingly, Kazimir hurries you past with a comment on how ravishing you look in red – even going so far as to say it's his favorite color. It doesn’t really surprise you.

You want John to tell you you would be okay, but his voice never filters through the wavelengths, never graces your ears like an intimate murmur. Only cruel static.

It only serves to make you more anxious.

Where is my John, You wonder, but can’t dwell on the twisting feeling in your gut before you’re brought to a couch in the corner of the main room, a small group of mingling guests glancing you over before smirking and sending whispers to their dates, Why did I agree to this?

“I must say, Mr. Bogdanov,” You sit when the man holds out a hand for you, motioning you to the soft velvet cushions, “I am quite impressed with the scale of your extravagance. So many rooms so beautifully decorated and furnished. I can’t help but wonder if my father’s donations to your business may be put to use in other places.”

Grinning to show you partially thought it was a poor attempt at conversation, he takes a seat right beside you, body heat making your skin crawl. Kazimir had placed his frame closer to yours than you would have expected. Shifting yourself slightly away, your opposite arm hits the wooden armrest with a dull thud.

The guests leave the room.

When the Russian talks you feel the vibrations of his voice from where he keeps contact with you.

I want John’s leather jacket, You tell yourself this once more before you scratch at your neck. Afterward, you disguise the nervous gesture with the outward appearance that you were fixing your hair. Feeling slick sweat dribbling down your spine, you can’t help but wonder if you had just walked into a monster den without a sword.

“I assure you,” Kazimir murmurs, sliding a hand over the back of the couch and leaning his body into yours, pressing you into the armrest with his vile build, “All investments are going exactly where your father instructed, лисичка. I’m simply the middle man, you understand, yes?”

He laughs, and you swallow the bile in your throat. You attempt a small smile, though, your eyes certainly give you away, not to mention the tension in your body.

Get the job done, Your fingers shake, and you clutch them over your handbag in your lap to try and get them to stop, Get it done and leave. You’ll be fine. It’s gonna be alright.

But his hand was touching your shoulder now, slipping over the straps of the silk dress you had loved. You want to throw up.

In your ear the device jolts to life, your name uttered and nearly missed by Gaz, who begins to plead with Laswell. They undoubtedly know what’s going on. They’re not stupid to Kazimir’s ways with women.

“..Tell her to get the hell out of there! Move in or something – let me kill the bastard myself, Kate!”

“We can’t move in,” Laswell sounds concerned, “We don’t have anyone else on the inside right now – and we need to know where the weapons are being distributed from.”

“Bullshit! We’ll figure it out another time!”

You don’t need to be a genius to know the answer to that comment. There wouldn’t be a ‘next time.’ Hundreds of people could be dead in a day if you don’t find out where Bogdanov’s current stock from your ‘father’ is being sold.

“I can’t help but wonder,” You clear your throat, pushing aside your discomfort and leaning into the man’s hold, letting loose a girlish giggle as you flicker your eyelashes up at him. Just pretend, “Where is it that you’re sending your product? My father never told me and I hate being left out of the loop. He’s such a stickler for me never being involved in the family business.”

Before this moment you hadn’t realized that Kazimir Bogdanov was barely older than yourself. He wasn’t an old man at all, nor was he John’s age. The Russian was perhaps only one or two years your senior.

He looked down at you with dilated pupils, staring at your visible skin and the red off your lips. Bogdanov’s tongue flicks at the side of his mouth.

“Any why would I tell you that, Little Allegra Bayley? It is not ideal to discuss work at a party – you should drink, eat…partake in more carnal pleasures.” His finger traces your shoulder blades, creating small circles.

“Because I want you too,” You smirk, whispering the words out with a slow sigh, “Because I asked so nicely to such a handsomely dangerous man like yourself?”

“Hm,” He murmurs, caught like a rat in a trap. His file had been right.

He had a horrible idea that women couldn’t be involved in a line of work such as his – be smart enough to play his game. He underestimates the lengths you would go to bring him to his grave.

Kazimir is hanging off your skin like a man starved, gripping your flesh with his large hands. Like a blood-drowned mouse in a golden trap made of jeweled teeth and a diamond snare.

“I’m a snoop,” You soften your features, “My old man’s activities are…exciting to me. And I have a right to know, don’t I?” You flutter your eyelashes, putting on a pout.

Your heart was nearly breaking your ribcage open, the bones feeling like they were flaring out like birds wings.

“Лисичка,” Bogdanov leans in so close you could smell his musk, the breath playing off his lips, “Already prying me for information into family business. Not very innocent, are you?” He pauses, eyes lowering to your body pressed against him. He shifts his leg, watching your body move in reaction. He spills, “I believe the products were sold to a woman named Valdana Rojanić in Montenegro. Nasty stuff she plans to do – but it’s not my war, no?”

“Bravo 1-6, get the hell out of there,” Laswell barks down the line, causing you to flinch as the immediate sound of someone else shouting over the line finds your ear.

“What in the bloody hell do you mean she’s already talking to him?!”

“John…” You mutter out loud, eyes blinking as a breath of fresh air enters your lungs at the noise of rushing feet and hands sliding across a table harshly.

“What was that?” Kazimir’s eyebrows crease, face pulling back into a snarl, “Who is–”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Bogdanov, but I really have to use your restroom,” Tilting your head in a display of pure regret, you stutter, “I hate to embarrass myself like this, but I have a horribly small bladder.”

You try not to cringe at the blatant lie.

Kazimir pulls back with a dark face, and you stand to shaky feet quickly, clutching your handbag in such a grip the fabric indents.

You make it about four steps before a hand latches onto your forearm, making you suck in a sharp breath as John’s perfectly gravelly voice wafts from the earpiece, oblivious to your panicked pulse and wide eyes.

“Love,” His voice seems breathless as another hand snaps over your mouth to muffle a shout of alarm, “I’m so fucken’ sorry. One word and I’ll blow cover and come get you myself, eh?” A pause and a nervous chuckle, and you can’t respond because you’re bringing an elbow up behind you, snapping it into the Russian’s spleen with a violent blow. Except his arm doesn’t let go, “…Love?” You unclasp your handbag with one hand as black dots swim in your vision. John knows you best – you’d never not respond to him on a mission like this, even if you were angry, “Love…! Shit, Laswell, she’s burned! Sergeant – you’re on me! I want that Muppet’s house on lockdown, now!

—

You sit on your hotel room floor covered in blood. Not your own, of course, but with the way you were shaking, you would think it was.

The locked door handle jiggles, and your eyes slowly travel to it – mind sluggish and still trying to process what had happened. You had killed Kazimir Bogdanov; shoved your tiny knife deep into the sinuses of his neck and felt the spray of his Carotid Artery’s blood splatter your nose and cheeks.

This shouldn’t be getting to you – how many men and women have you killed in your career? Hundreds…no, thousands. It shouldn’t affect you anymore. It doesn’t.

Kazimir was a bad man, You try to reason with yourself as you watch the doorknob once more move back and forth, he deserved what he got. No one will be sad over his death.

So why were tears running down your face? Dribbling to the carpet like little bullets of your own self-loathing? It wasn’t because of the Russian, you knew.

“Doll…?” John’s soft voice comes from under the door, his boots making shadows in the hallway light as they shuffle. His knuckles lightly wrap against the barrier separating him from you, “You still in there? Can you open the door for me?”

You stare at the woodgrain of the door, making patterns and finding faces in the dark lines. Bringing a hand up to your face, you swipe at your tears, only serving to spread the blood into long streaks up your cheeks.

John speaks your name, clearing his throat, “Please, I…I need you to open the door, Sweetheart. I’ve gotta make this right.”

His voice prompts you to move your shaking legs, standing and feeling the silk of your dress caress you like a second skin. You don’t want to wear it anymore, but you don’t have the energy to take it off by yourself.

Padding over to the door, your hand lays heavy on the lock, studying the red stains on your hands as they leave trails on the copper metal. You can hear John’s breath on the other side of the thin wood, the sound of his hand meeting the back of his neck, running over the flesh. He did that when he was nervous, a small tick you had been fortunate enough to learn over the years you two had been together. You knew him like a bird knew the sky, flew along the headwinds of his mind with sturdy wings without fear of divebombing; the two of you worked so well as a pair many already thought you were married.

There was one thing you could know even when you were reduced to this. John loved you; you loved John.

You flick the lock and hear the defending click as a deep silence covers the room. But the tall man outside the door waited for you to open the barrier between the two of you, even though you knew his heart was racing to break it down. Grabbing the knob, you slowly twist until the door draws back, only half of your face visible from the hallway.

John’s face immediately comes into view, a black beanie over his head and still in his dark tactical gear, the black undershirt absorbing all the light that met it. His small blue eyes are creased, and when his gaze travels the gore on your face he frowns deeply, fingers twitching at his sides.

You blink at him when he calmly takes a single step forward, grabbing onto the door frame. He doesn’t ask how you are, but the man was just about the smartest person you’ve ever known. He knows you’re not okay.

“Let’s get all that off you, eh, Love?” John nods his head at you, beard pulling as he tries to give you a small smile to mask the obvious concern at the blankness of your eyes, “Get my girl cleaned up.”

He scans your body, looking for injuries, and you’re brought back to the events in the car that had transpired not fifteen minutes earlier.

You had yelled at him, still dripping in blood as the car peeled out of the estate even as John was frantically moving his hands over your body, checking for open wounds. His eyes had been wild, and he took you throwing your anger at him with a stiff face, looking at the deep bruising over your forearm and the red of your neck seriously. His eyebrows had furrowed as rage swelled. Ripping your hand away from him you screamed with shaking limbs, where the hell were you?!

You were never mad about fucking Kazimir Bogdanov or what he did to you, you were mad that John – your lover and best friend – had left you alone. You had told him before, that on missions like these, you wanted him on the line the entire time; not only for the company but because he gave you a sense of safety in the way he spoke to you that you couldn’t give yourself. Not when everyone was looking at you like a slice of dessert.

John hadn’t been able to meet your eyes the entire ride back, and when you had locked yourself in the hotel room he had offered a small, “Doll…I…” Before you had slammed the door in his face.

Now, though, it felt good to feel his hand on your shoulder, lightly pulling you back into the room as he murmured softly into the air. He let you sit on the bed, guiding you as your bare feet stumble for a moment before your backside hits a soft mattress. You wished you could go back to the time before the mission – when John had laid with you under the covers and trailed his fingertips over your heated skin, your legs wrapped around his tapered waistline as he hit all the right spots and whispered dirty paise in your ears.

Good girl, He had grunted into your neck, panting and biting into the sweaty skin like a feral animal, leaving you sobbing with pleasure, His beard had burned so delightfully as it ravaged your skin, leaving it pulsing. Your body was trying desperately to move in tandem with John’s own devastating pace; hips instinctually trembling to meet his slick-stained pelvis, dripping from previous rounds, look at you, eh, trying so hard to keep up. Keep me in that cunt of yours. My good fucken’ girl. S-so good.

Blinking away the heat that grows in your navel, you shift, noticing John had gone off and returned with a wet rag from the bathroom; his tactical vest was off, and leaning on the bed on the floor. You hadn’t even seen him take it off. Hitting it with your toe lightly, you make it fall sideways with a muffled thump and a clinking of metal.

John attempts a chuckle as he stops ahead of you, crouching down and placing his hands in the middle of his open legs as his elbows rest on his knees. He takes a deep breath in.

“Not a fan, Sweetheart? I can move it farther if you want?”

“Where were you,” You whisper, voice hoarse. Pulling the fraying ends of your strength together you look up at him, “I needed you there with me for this…You disappeared, John.”

You just wanted to understand; just wanted the tightness of your chest to go away.

Your Captain stares up at you for a moment before he blinks, tilting his head to look to the side; away from you. A flash of red-hot guilt overtook his ocean-blue orbs as you see him glare at the side table like he could set the wood alight with his repressed hatred for himself.

“I’m sorry, Love. Don’t…don’t think any less of me, eh?” He chokes out, chest jerking with a humorless grunt, and his face turns back to you. Pausing, you find embarrassment heating his bearded cheeks, eyes unable to meet yours. John takes your hands in his own, bringing the rag up to begin peeling away the dried blood around your palms, “It’s…ah, It’s not an excuse, I know, but I…”

“John?” You murmur, bringing a hand up from his grip in concern to tilt his head. You hold a finger under his chin, liking the way his coarse beard itches you as you prompt him to stare you in the eyes. This was unlike him – John was never… embarrassed. Not like this at least, “What happened?”

John clenches his jaw, taking his hand not holding the rag, and carefully grabbing your digits before bringing them to his lips and holding them there. He lays a gentle kiss before he starts, uttering softly his secret into your skin.

“I just realized that maybe you would be better off with someone who wasn’t…” He trails, “...Someone who could treat you better. Give you what you want.”

What, your face must show your genuine confusion because John lets a tiny smile flicker over his lips before he goes back to cleaning your hand, Where had this come from.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Your eyebrows crease, shivering as the rag goes up to your elbow, caressing the sensitive skin and drawing the large man closer to you as his heat sinks into you. His chest brushes your leg, leading you to move your limbs apart and under his armpits to rest your feet on his hip bones. The muscles of his toned thighs tense as you brush over them, and he sends you a glance.

His eyes soften.

“Someone more your age, Love.”

You immediately huff incredulously, not even realizing that you had come out of your stupor at the baffling comment from the man you loved more than anything.

My John? Insecure about himself? Your face twists, is this because of the people who were at the party? No, you can’t have that. Not your beloved Captain.

Grumbling with genuine denial, you grab John’s hairy cheeks, dragging him to you so swiftly that he grunts in surprise; eyes flashing with those flecks of sea glass. Your legs wrap around his back, locking at the ankles, and you feel his broad body flex and writhe as his hands immediately snap to your hips, dropping the rag to the floor with a wet thwap.

John gazes up at you with blown-wide eyes, mouth slightly open as the beanie on his head bounces at the action.

In his gargantuan hands he bunches the silk of your dress which is now shoved all the way up to your waist; creasing it, and you suck in a sharp breath as his beating heart is pressed directly into the fabric of your panties. Your nerves get set alight, heat building to a steady simmer in your gut that makes your thighs flex and your pupils dilate until little of the color is visible.

You bring John’s face up to yours, twiddling your fingers into his beard and running your thumbs back and forth over his cheeks. He swallows thickly as you lean down, stopping just as your lips are able to brush over his own. You keep your eyes locked on his as you growl out.

“Any why would I want anyone that wasn’t you?” Your eyebrow raises as John gapes up at you, “Do you think anyone would be able to make me feel the way you do? The Doorman? The Butlers?” You scoff, and John licks his lips as his grip on your waist tightens. You know he wants to drag you to him, but you want him to wait, “All they did was ogle at my breasts and skin like horny teenagers,” John grunts, eyes flashing dangerously, and his heart is beating so fast in his peck that you roll your hips against his available body, gold jewelry shimmering in the dimed overhead light. The man responds by breathing out a shaky sigh, content with the feeling of you rutting on him. You knew it turned him on, though his bulge was hidden by the frame of the bed below you.

“Do you want to know something, John,” You mutter over his lips, and he hums, chest vibrating perfectly as you suck down a whimper through red-painted lips. He smirks, “Guys my age just don’t know how to treat me like you do. They can’t make me feel like this with just a fucking look.”

John slides one hand down to your parted legs as the other goes to the small of your back, gliding over silk sensually and maintaining eye contact as you both pant into each other. Your hands tighten over his cheeks as his sturdy digits delve into the space between the two of you before they finally press against the drowned fabric of your panties. You had already leaked through them.

He hisses in a breath, and before you can even realize what’s happening, your legs are being gripped tightly, and your back hits the mattress as a gasp escapes you.

“Little Minx,” John manhandles your body, pulling you to him as you let him peel the dress father up your body, pooling just above the swell of your breasts. Your hands grip the sheets as your Captain keeps your legs wrapped around him. He stands.

“John,” You whimper as he grips the edge of his athletic shirt with a heavy hand, ripping it off like the article of clothing offended him. His hat falls with the black fabric to the floor as the broad frame of his chiseled abs comes into view, pale skin marred with scars and burns. The sharp ‘v’ of his pelvis makes you constrict around nothing, “I...”

“Tell me what you want, Love,” He grinds his tented cargo pants against your core, one of his large palms coming down to grip your breasts under the silk as the other plays with the band of your underwear, “Speak to me.”

“I-I’m all bloody,” You moan when his hand grips you tighter, already sensitive skin now feeling like a live wire. His hips continue to rut against you, and tension is pleasurably building as he hits that bundle of nerves every time. Your chest rises and falls swiftly as your eyes flutter.

John chuckles deeply, shaking his head. Already so worked up.

“Oh, Love, I’ve fucked you covered in worse. I’ll clean you up just fine…make sure every trace of another man is completely erased from your skin – from your mind,” He bends over you, hand trailing down your abdomen to meet where he grinds into you. He presses into your covered clit with his thumb, rolling in small circles. You gasp, back arching up into him as ecstasy makes your legs tighten. One of your hands snaps up to John’s hair, running through the locks and tugging at the roots. He shivers, his mouth near the skin of your collarbone, “Until all that’s left behind is me.”

His tongue licks a stripe from the junction of your neck up to your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back as you cry out loudly; the callouses of his fingers hit you just right – the pace perfect as he ramps up your pleasure. Your pussy desperately tightens around nothing, leaking like a faucet with need. Your Captain grips the sheets just beside your head, making sure he doesn’t accidentally crush you with his gargantuan frame. If he asked you would let him.

“Fucken’ beautiful,” John groans, “Fucken’ taste bloody good, Sweetheart…fuck.”

He laps at your skin, leaving trails of saliva all along your neck, cleaning the blood away before moving to your face. He stares at you with a deeply feral look as the coil in your core builds, red hot and making your skin shine with a sheen of desperate sweat. Your thighs quiver as the wetness of your slit makes the fabric of your panties stick uncomfortably to your skin. The flesh of your face scrunches, and your head is loosely rocked up and down from the constant movement of your boyfriend’s hard hips and thumb.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, You think, digging your nails into his scalp and tugging.

“Don’t stop,” You whine, “So close.”

“That’s right,” John’s tongue flies over the corner of your lip, making you want to cry at how you want to kiss him right now – but he's already moved onto your cheek, licking long stripes. When the man has his mind set on something, he’s not going to stop until it’s completed. The heat gets hotter, and your eyes snap closed eyebrows pulling in, “Yeah, come on, Love, come on. That’s it.”

He presses his thumb harder, moving it faster to chase that prize at the end of the road, watching in satisfaction as your body responds so perfectly to his every whim; hips moving erratically. You desperately try and meet his pace and, for the most part, achieve your goal, only sputtering when the tense minutes ware on and it all comes crashing down.

Your thin line of sanity breaks, and with a final heavy tug on John's hair that leaves him lowly groaning into your ear and muttering praises, your breath comes out in tight pants as light erupts behind your eyelids. You tense and feel your pussy gush with nothing inside of you, just your Captain’s steady rocking serving as an anchor as you feel your mind go blank with unrestrained pleasure.

“John!” You gasp, just as the man cleans the blood off your nose bridge as you arch violently against his sturdy chest, shaking, “Oh, fuck.”

“There she is,” Hands go to your chin, moving your jaw as your mouth remains open and releasing puffs of air. Your eyes open half-lidded as his finger works you through your high, “There’s my girl. Look at me, Sweetheart. Hm, did so good for me.”

“John,” You whimper, looking up into the sheen of pride that shines in his eyes; legs vibrating as his fingers move from your clit to your hip. The other leg, now tingling and pleasure numb, falls to the mattress with half of it hanging off. John digs tightly into your skin, leaving beautiful bruises behind for you to admire tomorrow, “Please I need you in me. Wanna make you feel good.”

“Hm,” He smashes his lips to yours, teeth clacking together, unable to restrain himself when you have that blissed-out look coating your expression, and you reciprocate as his painfully large erection still digs into you; his cargo pants stained with your fluids in a large wet splotch. Your free hand shakily slides to his belt buckle, tugging uselessly at the metal until John takes notice and tilts his head back, “Just a minute, Princess, so needy for me already?”

“Always,” You gasp, kissing the corner of his mouth breathlessly, “You treat me so well, John, always make me feel so good.” Tilting his head farther up with a nail, you feel his breath still, held in his chest as you leave love bites all along the part where his shoulder and neck meet, “You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

He melts into you before hastily going down to undo his belt buckle with one hand, allowing you to continue your work of marking him as his hips begin once more to careen into you with instinctual pleasure. Nearly crying from the sharp sense of overstimulation, you let the glossiness coat your eyes but still want more from him, even if it made you go dumb.

Sliding your hands all over his back and digging into the delicious muscles with your nails, you only pause your ministrations when his pants fall to the floor with a thump of fabric; his boxers following. Pulling back, you let your head hit the mattress as John drops the leg he was holding and you splay your hands above your head, letting the chill of your jewelry ground you as you take in the sight above you.

Every time you and John had sex it felt like you were taking him for the first time, the size of him stretching you so perfectly it didn’t take much for you to be reduced to a whimpering mess. It was even better when you were on top of him, straddling his hips and feeling his hands holding you in place as he plants his feet and thrusts up into you; hitting that perfect spongy spot and kissing your cervix.

Staring at him, heat flows to your face, and your lower legs nearly fall together until John’s hands snap to them, forcing them open once more. On his tense stomach, his large cock leaks down onto itself, but he hardly seems to notice. Your heart pounds in your ribcage.

“Don’t hide from me,” He mutters your name, fingers leaving goosebumps behind as they trail to your panties. John plays with the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, leaving you pouting as the seconds drag on. But he just watches you, running his digits over the come that stains the garment and leaks from your hole to the bed sheets.

“What’d I do to deserve you, eh?” John grunts as you make a sound in the back of your throat, “What’d I do to deserve this?”

He grabs your wrecked panties and slowly drags them to your ankles, letting them fall off to the floor to make a pile with his own clothes. Sucking in a breath, you feel the chill of the room meet your now-visible pussy. John’s eyes darken with lust, and one of his hands goes to lightly start pumping his cock at the sight of liquid falling out of you. His eyebrows pull in with concentration.

“Y-you don’t have to deserve me, John,” You whisper, watching in awe as his muscles tense as he jerks himself off at the sight of you; keeping eye contact with those blown orbs. One of your hands slides over your clovered breasts and down over your abdomen, finding your own slick folds before splaying them. Masking a whimper at your sensitivity, your eyelashes flutter as John’s jaw clenches at the visual, “I g-gave myself to you because I love you. You know that…Ah.”

Growling, your Captain snaps a hand to wrap around your wrist before you can begin to rock your hips and weakly fuck yourself at the sight of his leaking cock-head.

“Easy, Love,” He groans, running a thumb over his tip, “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

John’s hand leaves his cock, going to land on your other hand’s wrist as he pulls you to a sitting position. You release a squeak as you almost faceplant into his abdomen.

“J-John?” Muttering with wide eyes, your heart jerks as his hands weave under your knees, the other spanning the back of your shoulders. He picks you up and tosses you up into the middle of the bed, making you squeal and release a set of giggles as you land softly onto the mattress. Your body bounces, hair partially blocking your view before you swipe it from your face.

John chuckles, placing a knee on the side of the bed before moving up and crawling forward, coming to trap you under his body as he places his massive weight against you. Hating the silk barrier between your bodies, you smile and move one of your fingers to clasp the zipper in the back.

“Let me,” The man mutters, laying a soft kiss on your lips before his large hands move behind you, grabbing the metal and dragging it down.

You arch your back to help.

When he reaches the end, he pulls the fabric and your bra over your head; he leaves the jewelry on your body with only a lick of his lips and a glance to tell you he enjoyed the way it stood out on your skin. His cock twitches. John drops the silk to the floor and slots his hips inside the space of your thighs.

“Hm,” He breathes over your flaming cheeks, and you go to wrap your arms around his neck in anticipation, “Not right.”

He flips you over so you straddle his lower body, and immediately the impression of his cock is on your folds, leaving you moaning with want and heat as he leans against the headboard with a smirk. You swallow, seeing the way John watches with a tilted head.

“Fuck, you feel good,” You mutter, moving one hand down to grasp him as the other lands on his chest. You run your fingers over the pre-come staining the shaft and spread it around, angling him as he groans ahead of you. His thick fingers weave through your hair, forcing your head upwards as he starts leaving savage kisses over your neck; biting and making you grip him tighter with a moan, “So big. The perfect cock for splitting me open. No one else could take me like you can.”

“Shit,” John shakes, fingers digging into your side, “So nice to me, Love.” Your hand lines him up with your pussy, moving the tip around your hole before letting yourself begin to sink down.

He fills you inch by inch, and you feel the ache in your hips as you bring your lip to your mouth, biting down to silence the loud sounds that are trying to escape from you. Stuttering, John’s teeth sink into the skin behind your ear as you bottom out a heavy minute later, both of your chests banging against each other as you gasp for breath. The trimmed hair over his pelvis is just as coarse as his beard, leaving you itching to move. Maybe you can ride his face after this – get that perfect beard burn in between your thighs.

“Feel so fucken’ good round me, Sweetheart,” John grunts, not able to stop the light roll of his hips as he moves his lips to yours, sealing them with an open-mouth kiss that leaves saliva dripping down between the two of you to where you’re joined, splattering over his abs, “But I need you to move, yeah?”

So tight, You notice how you’re gripping John’s cock inside you like a vice, stretching so satisfyingly around him that you have to look down to see it for yourself. Your gaze flickers to see with a pleasure-drunk sheen; eyes widening. You find John stuffed so beautifully inside you that you have to restrain yourself from coming at the sight of it, engorged member spreading you open as your slick glistens at the base, How did he even fit?

Your walls flutter in arousal, feeling filled so completely and seeing the bulge in your stomach.

“Fucken’ bloody hell,” John whimpers, head tilting back to slam into the headboard harshly. He fills his chest with air, and before you have a chance to adjust his hips snap up, leaving you yammering in surprise; a loud whine leaves you breathless and falling into his chest for support.

He hits that spot without even trying, moving your body up as he plants his feet and uses you like a fuck-toy. Sweat drips down his nose. Your jewelry clinks together, giving you something else to hear besides the sound of slapping skin and fluids squelching as John pounds into you.

You chant your Captain’s name as you feel one of his hands travel to your clit, flicking it while the other controls your movement. Up and down. The bed creaks as you arch, mind losing all function as your nails drag down John's chest, leaving deep red claw marks behind.

“No one else makes you feel like this, huh,” John growls, his eyes traveling your disheveled frame as he sends a particularly heavy thrust up into you that kisses your cervix. You writhe as he continues, mouth open and letting him do whatever he wants to you, “No one can make you this cock-dumb, can they? No, my good girl needs me to treat her right, is that it?”

His jaw clenches, and he spreads his thighs even wider, making your own respond in turn and letting him hit even deeper.

“Answer me, Love. Come on,” John snaps his hand over your ass, and the resounding sound of the contact makes you tighten around him as your slick paints his abdomen with a clear sheen, “Can’t have you goin’ already on me. Haven’t even gotten to the good part.”

Your eyes roll back for a moment, head limp. You don’t even care who can hear you at the moment as your sounds bounce off the walls before fingers go around your jaw, forcing your head up to stare directly into John’s beautiful blues. His pace slows torturously and you gasp in desperation.

“Answer me.”

“No one!” You yell, eyes wet and glossy, “No one, John! F-fill me up, please,” You whine, words slurring as your body pointlessly shivers; tears track down your face as you beg, “Need your c-come in me. Please, Captain. Feels so good with your cock hitting me just right, paint my insides with your come, please!”

The sounds you were making were downright pornographic, and you swore you heard someone banging on the walls to try and shut the two of you up.

Not that that made you both slow down.

“Gonna leave you dripping with me, Love,” John’s fast pace returns, becoming erratic, hips slamming into your own becoming almost too much with his hand returning to circle your clit. You whine with overstimulation, legs trying fruitlessly to close as that coil builds violently once more, “Won’t be able to bloody walk tomorrow after I’m done with you. Fuck, just how you like it. Gonna leave you drooling, yeah?”

“Yeah…yeah…yeah,” You pant, heart pounding as John’s cock curves up into your womb, “love being cock-drunk ‘cause of you, C-captain.”

“Good girl, that’s right.” Your walls tighten one last time, and as John connects his lips with yours the line snaps as you come on his cock, gushing as he guides you through your orgasm with his still pistoning hips. The sound of the wet thrusting nearly makes you pass out, and as you released a high-pitched keen into your lover's mouth, he does the same.

“Bloody Fucken’...!”

Your own pleasure had triggered his, and with a few sloppy thrusts later, his seed is coating your insides white with a chest-rumbling groan. You feel the combined fluids slide between the ring you two had made as you fit together, pooling to corrupt both of your flesh. But that was alright -- it simply becomes even easier to fuck like that.

John ruts into you still, cock softening even as it seems he could go more rounds. But today had been long. You sit pleasure-drunk on his chest as your body is moved back and forth by those soft, slick, thrusts, your own hips casually rocking as drool falls from the corner of your mouth. Your eyes had gained a faraway look to them.

Your nerves sing with satisfaction, your womb feeling full and dripping with his seed. Nothing made you feel this good; made your legs feel so numb and shakey.

“You alright, Love?” John pants, beard coming to scratch your temple as he whispers in your ear, “didn’t go too hard on you, I hope.”

You smirk, moving your head to kiss his chest, licking over the purple and blue bruises you had given him. He sucks in a breath, and inside of you his cock twitches; your abused walls clenching.

“I’m fine.” You let out a sigh, sucking in greedy breaths right after, “But I think the others might hate us tomorrow. Someone was banging on the wall a while ago.”

John lays a kiss on the side of your head, catching a drop of sweat on his lips as your fucked-out eyes go to look up at him.

“Then they’re really going to like what I do to you next.”

#john price x reader #john price #captain john price #john price x you #mw #call of duty mw2 #mw2 2022 #cod mw22 #cod x you #cod x reader #cod #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell #female reader #x reader smut #cod smut #mw2

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madsmilfelsen · 5 months ago

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I think Rust is neat and all but what drew me in was his HANDS. Idk how to explain it, but something about the way he holds things and articulates makes me just. Stare at them. Like I just Know he has rough hands

alright babe, you want to talk about his hands, let’s talk about his hands via timeline

Obviously living in the bush of Alaska requires a lot of manual labor to survive, skin rubbing raw inside leather gloves, blisters from splitting wood, scars from his knife slipping on salmon (v real, I used to filet 500 salmon a summer and baby…. yew, my left hand has gotten nicked more than once— Travis and Rust had a fish camp on the Copper River, probably across the bridge from Chitna and a touch north, and lived way up river between Slana and Nabesna bc I’m making all this up right now and I said so) etc etc so his hands well worn before he got out, moved back to Texas and meets Claire snared by his weirdo allure and bizarre way of handling things— Sophia comes along and I bet he was washing his hands like a maniac, dry as fuck, probably worried his rough hands might make her fussy so held her with her little swaddling blankets at first (compensated with A LOT of skin to skin time but that’s a different ask), carefully petting her hair with just the tips of his fingers, down the bridge of her nose to make her go to sleep. Sophia loved his hands (like mother like daughter fr) could be occupied when he took her fishing by just letting her sit in his lap to play with his fingers, try on his wedding ring, ask why his nails are shorter than mommy’s or why they aren’t soft like mommy’s, map his calluses, trace the lines of his palms until he set a hook and watched him reel in dinner.

(Addition) hol up, hear me out— Sophia rooting around his bare chest and pacified with the curl of his knuckle, Sophia teething and gnawing on his fingers, Sophia learning to walk with her soft pudgy hands in his, Sophia squealing and giggling as he tickles her round lil tummy, Sophia’s only sitting still to get her hair brushed but only for daddy— Rust’s hands becoming the most abused part of his body after she’s gone

Crash era— this man does not give a shit about his hands, the most treatment they get is when he taped them together after breaking a finger, had a punching bag for obvious reasons and beat the shit out of it no gloves no tape constantly bruised. Not a stranger to working with mechanics (in Alaska, Travis would make sure he could keep his equipment running— boat engines, four wheeler oil changes, changing snow mobile tracks etc) and probably took his bike apart and put it back together just to make sure he could be Authentic, different calluses with new tools, divots in his skin lost to the unforgiving scraping bite of metal, hissing when he gets transmission fluid in his split knuckles

1995– habitual hand washing returns, dry as hell, his wrists probably crack and bleed in the winter (very very very rarely is annoyed enough to actual do something about it, probably had to bleed on one of his files— he’d use Johnson and Johnson baby lotion becuase that’s he only shit he knew, definitely drunk cried about it at least once, before sucking it up and swtiching to Vaseline), pull up bars give calluses at the base of the fingers/tops of the palms, just does calisthenics because who the fuck wants to buy equipment. Does all the upkeep on his truck (and thinking about it, this would be the first time he’d be like Alone alone in a long while, no handlers, no Iron Crusaders, no backstory upkeep, no dad, no wife, probably takes truck parts inside and cleans them on his kitchen counter because no one is there to say what the fuck are you doing— “we don’t mind being alone” okay Okay sure honey) Makes it worse by the talcum powder in his rubber gloves or licking his fingers to go through case files or staying too long in the dry archives where he can’t smoke so probably tapping his mouth, rubbing circles on his knuckles with his thumb or running it along his nails— don’t know what flavor of adhd that man has a strangle hold on but he can’t sit entirely still, fingers moving with the bits of his mind that aren’t occupied to keep himself from distraction, pretending he didn’t lose his patience with his fatherhood.

2002– Laurie :) home girl said that’s enough! Probably got recommendations from surgeons and plys him tins of hand salve, he doesn’t like the greasy feeling, but his girl is askin’ he won’t say no babey!

2012– full circle, back to them Alaskan fishing boat hands, type of hands that snag fabric (my husband isn’t a mechanic but does work with his hands and I can’t wear silk around him) and hair gets caught on, the man does not own a brush, finger combs his hair once a week and puts that shit in a hair tie, done with it.

#you didn’t ask for any of this but my first cup of coffee was really good #answered #rust cohle

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dr-tonytonychopper · 9 months ago

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top 4 strongest benders of each element and top 4 most powerful nonbenders bc ur all WRONG

avatar not included bc THATS A GIVEN

fire

iroh: i think a lot of people just give strongest to azula or ozai bc of their feats and power but personally i think it’s iroh because he’s more level headed than azula and more carefree than ozai which i believe is what makes firebending

azula: she’s a beast but by the end of the series and in the comics she’s not the most mentally stable person y’know. we see it all the time in both shows aang got scared he lost the little firebending he has, zuko loses his way, mako is scared and can’t bend with one of his arms, as bad as it is if she doesn’t get better she’s gonna have to face the consequences.

ozai: most of ozai’s feats come from being calculated not his actual abilities and the only people i remember him fighting are actually 13 and 12 so…..

MAKO: WE SEE MAKO DO EVERYTHING IROH CAN DO IN SMALLER FEATS AND SUDDENLY HES THE WORST THERE EVER WAS. in all seriousness makos precision and quick reflexes make him a great bender. also in republic city hustle he’s already mastered lighting bending at 15 making him younger than both ozai and iroh who mastered it as adults and don’t bring up zuko

air

jinora: her connection to the spirits and mastering airbending at 11 makes her a great airbender

tenzin: molly whooped zaheer

zaheer: got molly whooped by a 50 year old bald man

kai or bumi: they’re fast learners idk

water

katara: katara becomes a master over the course of the year and shows great skill with not only with traditional bending but with healing and blood bending.

ming hua: she has no arms idk what to tell you idk how she does it

tonraq: MOLLY WHOOPED ZAHEER

eska and desna: they’re fast benders and have impeccable battle chemistry that no one can beat

earth(might ruffle some feathers)

toph: created her own bending style and becomes a master at the age of 12. has some intense battle chemistry with everyone from team avatar and has some impressive moments.

lin: was taught by and trained by toph and is an impressive metal bender. she doesn’t have as many impressive moments as everyone else and because of her age and already being a master we don’t really see her grow as a bender but more as a person

kuvira: an immovable object meets an unstoppable force. kuvira is a lot like lin in the sense as her growth is more focused on growing as a person and not on growing as a bender like everyone else her only downside is her lack of care. she sacrifices everything to take over republic city and is her greatest weakness.

bolin: this is what i think will make some people mad. bolin is an entirely self taught lavabender and just like mako his precision and accuracy makes him a great earth bender. Bolin and Mako’s fluid and untraditional styles of bending makes them great benders because everyone else we see are traditionally trained

nonbenders

ty lee

suki

mai

sokka and don’t even bring up asami

avatar

korra

kyoshi

aang

#legend of korra #korra #mako #bolin #asami sato #avatar the last airbender #aang #katara #sokka #toph beifong #zuko #azula #kyoshi #jinora #tenzin #lok kai #bumi #mai #ty lee #tonraq

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ohtransarchon · 7 months ago

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Thoughts on top surgery; two months post op

Hi hi, I am almost two months post op now- soo basically 2 months. I have a weird gender, I'm sure many can relate so I want to give some reassurance for anyone out there who maybe struggled like I did. I they ever stumble upon this :)

So hi! I struggled for a while with "do I really want this" and people around me (not counting my supportive friends) like my family and such kept pushing that narrative, I was once told I should wait 10 more years before I got top surgery, and that sucked to hear because I've been wanting this since I was 16 and now I was 20- was I really supposed to waste my twenties on "making sure" I really wanted this? That was upsetting.

Ultimately I didn't listen. The person who said that to me is a cishet person anyways, she wouldn't really know how I was struggling to begin with. So in December of 2023 I finally got tired of the struggle and made an "impulsive" call to the clinic, got my consultation and come march I get my surgery! Seven weeks later, here I am.

If you're looking for advice here is what I have; Come to terms with regret, I decided to do this "unsure" because you can't truly be 100% sure of things in life, but you can't sit still either- you can't wait forever. That was something I was stuck with so to let myself move forward I accepted that regret might be something I'll face in the future. There might come a day where I realize "oh, now I miss having boobs" and that's alright! I'm not saying I was really unsure about actually doing the surgery, I really wanted to of course!

I just faced that you never know what might happen in the future and I shouldn't wait around for it. :]

uhh and this one goes out for anyone with a size difference like me (yes I know breast are usually not symmetrical)

So I had a very uneven chest. My right side was pretty normal but my left side looked more like a man with gynecomastia would- as such my surgery results are a little uneven- AND THAT'S FINE! A lot of people feel so bad for me for the unevenness :') it makes me feel bad, makes me feel like I've been messed up. So many people said my surgeon was incompetent but I don't think so, he's been doing this for almost as long as I've been alive and I think he did great with what he had and I'm grateful :)

And also, I'm flat now and I honestly couldn't be happier!

I feel normal. and I feel great :)

(little side note; there is fluid build up/fat on the side that's lower down currently so it'll probably look a little better once I get that fixed) but yeah, I'll probably be a little uneven unless I realize I reaaaally want to get surgery to be symetrical idk, I'm flat and happy and those are my thoughts :)

#transgender #transmasc #trans #trans ftm #top surgery #nonbinary #trans pride #transmaculine

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candy-ac3 · 4 months ago

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I wish I was born a boy

Not in the transgender sense but in a way where it feels idk like I was meant to you know? Because maybe then I’d be more confident with myself. Maybe then I’d be what my parents wanted. Maybe it wouldn’t feel like I’m trespassing on a idk style I guess. I know who I am, I know I’m gender-fluid and don’t identify just as a male, but at the same time it feels like the best way to describe myself.

Idk man is their a term for like sometimes somewhat masc but at the same time as masc also fem (okay femboy) and sometimes nonbinary? Getting to the point where I might just have to come up with a whole new gender term I guess to label myself as lol

#darken talks #lgbtqia #lgbtq #lgbt pride #lgbtq community #genderfluid

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microfeelings · 7 months ago

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Yeah I'm sharing them now because if I decide to wait to pass them digitally I will ✨never do it✨

Spiderverse x One Piece AU!

A little something that started as an exercise in character design and then I got a little bit into it lmao

I did design the rest of the East Blue Crew but uh... they were kinda ugly/boring, I put more effort into these two because they're the 💕favs💕

Info, kinda. Honestly I don't have a lot thought out its mostly random ideas that mushed together sort of resemble a well put together au, just like everything I do <3

Nami:

- Spider-Woman of her universe, while her design isn't exactly original I really liked using her orange and blue colors. She has the spider logo on her back because she hates spiders and hates looking at them lmao

- In her universe, her best friend Usopp died when she failed to save him (kinda her "Gwen Stacy" but he was just a friend)

- Has electricity powers, her spidey senses are also really in tune with the climate for some reason

- She has a staff (not pictured) she fights with, and also uses the environment to her favor, not the biggest fan of fighting hand to hand because (compared to other Spider-people) shes not as physically strong

- Has a few enemies and nemesis that she fights, Arlong being the most important/strong one

- She's actually quite happy to know other Spider-people, tho she was kinda shocked when she saw Usopp... It was awkard for both of them...

Usopp:

- The first Spider-man in his world, there are some things of his design I would change (mainly the sweatband, I would change the colors), but I'm actually quite happy with his design. Where does his nose go with the mask on? The same place Hobbie's hair goes, idk..

- In his universe, his best friend Nami died, Usopp failing to protect her

- Uncanny precision with his webfluids, also figths using the environment

- Unfortunately isn't a well received Spider-man 😔, gets complaints about destruction of property or how he's "pretty coward for a superhero"

- Really would rather focus on saving civilians from natural disasters, as he's also not as physically strong (compared to other Spider-people), but it seems every weirdo on the block decided they really need to beat this teenager up, so he also has some enemies...

- Super excited about meeting other Spider-people and finally being able to share life experiences with them, and then met Nami, or Spider-Woman Nami and it was awkard and uncomfortable (but they became besties, bittersweet moment)

Extra stuff from the rest of the East Blue Crew:

- Luffy's spiderman name is Spider-King and the rest of the Spidermans where like "I can't decide if that's the best or the worst name I've ever heard...". Well Usopp thinks it's kinda cool, and wishes he had chosen a cooler name for himself, might be too late for a new signature 🤔, Nami and Sanji think it's stupid, Zoro is undecided

- Sanji does not have a spider logo, even tho his name is Spider-man because he hates spiders

- Zoro is the second Spider-man from his universe, the first one being Kuina, she died and he took her place

- Sanji has fire inmunity

- Zoro carries like 5 extra pockets of web fluids cause he takes "longer routes" (he gets lost a lot)

#my art #one piece #nami #usopp #god usopp #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #and i dont know what else to tag. i never got around to making the rest of the crew :(#because the next one was chopper and I had zero (0) ideas on what to do with him lmaoo #i guess he could be a reindeer bitten by a radioactive spider??? and he talks... But I also wanna make him human? 🤷‍♀️#just know if I do ever get to designing the rest robin will be the coolest #also will the rest of the ebc see the light of day? ehhh probably not? maybe zoro.. hes the least ugly 😔#luffy ended up too generic and sanji ended up too 'waiter' lmao #i didnt put much of namis backstory because hers is very similar to gwen in spiderverse and thats kinda boring but idk what to change 🤔#usopps backstory is his mom is still not dead but in a hospital and he lies to her saying he personally knows spiderman #but she knows 😔 and she worries #anyways. I dont have any plans with this au lmao. it was just for the drawings 😭 (that i did last year)#if anyone likes the idea and wants to expand or just run with it they have my full permission 🤷‍♀️#also wow. ignore my ugly ass handwriting dkdkkfk i promise it looks better nowadays (no one cares. no ones even looking at it. still)

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genderfluid-info-blog · 3 months ago

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Hello! For the most part I've mostly felt like a girl my whole life. Even tho I wasn't a girly girl. But last month I got an androgynous haircut because I wanted to look androgynous. I wanted to bring out my masculine side. I have feminine traits and masculine traits. I took a gender rolls quiz to see how I fit in society and it told me I was androgynous and I agreed that for me. I found the term androgyne which I really like. But up until last month I mostly felt like a girl. But I've always felt this way. I follow this guy who's a bigender femboy on Facebook and I think he's so cool. I'm jealous of him. And then within the past few days I've decided that I wanted to be one of those people that looked like a girl one day and a boy the next. I decided that if I was a shapeshifter I would change my gender all the time. I wand people to be confused and wonder if I'm a boy or a girl. Like I don't want to be a man but I'd like to be a goth guy sometimes. Or at least look like one. Can I call myself genderfluid if I plan on changing my appearance from time to time? I feel like waking up and deciding what gender I'm going to be that day is such a girl thing to do. Fucking things up is just very girl of me. Idk it's weird. I've never felt like this before so I feel like I'm trying to be something I'm not. But thinking of myself looking like a goth guy sometimes and a goth girl the other half of the time just seems so cool to me. I want to be a cool person. Can I call myself genderfluid?

Hi, that depends! It definitely sounds like your gender expression/presentation is very fluid, but gender is not an external thing :)

Gender expression: the way you present yourself/your gender and the way you want other people to perceive your gender -> this includes clothing, accessoires, haircuts, pronouns etc

The way you want to present yourself and others to perceive you and refer to you is part of your gender presentation. (I have another ask where I go more in depth about this here). For some people, their gender aligns with their gender presentation, but this is not always the case (the label for this is gender-nonconforming).

So, I think what you need to ask yourself is this: "Is my gender also fluid, or is only my gender expression fluid?"

Since the label genderfluid solely refers to the internal gender :) So I guess, do you only want to look like a goth guy sometimes and a goth girl other times, or do you want to be one?

Btw, you mentioned this as a "girl thing" etc and I just want to add that you can be genderfluid and static at the same time! Genderfluid is a very broad label, and if your gender only fluctuates partially that's also valid! Some genderfluid people are also always connected to manhood and/or womanhood or masculinity and/or femininity regardless of the changes in their gender, maybe that's something that applies to you too? There are also genderfluid girls and genderfluid boys so maybe that might be worth looking into for you as well :)

Either way, you're more than welcome on this blog, I wish you good luck on your gender journey and a lot of gender euphoria <3

#asks #genderfluid #nonbinary #transgender #lgbtq #lgbtq+#lgbtqia #lgbtqia+#gender expression

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nomsfaultau · 21 days ago

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Dumbest question ever but what are the pros and cons of being in a relationship with any of the sbi crew because I. Genuinely don't know how to choose without practicality and whatnot wkdjkwalwk

I'm incredibly aroace so take all this with a grain of salt. Also this is so very specifically my scp au and is just for the bit. But from what I can tell:

Tubbo

Pro: Free honey. Can fly to get up to the top shelf. Plus they're a buy 1 get 3. Of the Hive members, Rhodes was straight up in a successful marriage for like 40 years, so they know how to do long term commitment and love. He can talk you out of jail. Rosalind has been deemed psychically and personality ‘hot’ by the discord and there are not a lot of women options if you like those.

Con: Well Jasmine is a precious baby, so sometimes that isn't your spouse depending on who is fronting. Also. I imagine having a partner who is a husk filled with honey is not always ideal. Such as during a bear attack.

Philza

Pro: Literally this post if you want malewife scp Philza propaganda. His whole thing is undying dedication to someone. Can preform bridal carries no matter what. Best option on s’more night. Very warm hugs. Muscles if you like those. Conveniently gender/sex fluid for personal preferences (might take a few years tho). Remembers you for all eternity.

Cons: will murder anyone who inconveniences you. Unless that is a pro for you. Also has no life except waiting for you to get home, loser.

The Blade

Pro: Big. Strong. Fluffy. Very fluffy. If you’re a furry, there you go. Like imagine just sinking into his fur and disappearing. Can instantly embarrass anyone you don’t like in any type of challenge.

Cons: no board game night. Will win any argument with you. Is the least romantically inclined of the group by a lot (not that anyone is cause again aroace writer). Cannot fit inside most houses.

Wilbur

Pro: 100% Tumblr sexyman archetype. You could fix him. Okay ignore the fact you could say that about all of them. Height difference no matter what, sharp teeth, tentacles.

Cons: Afraid of commitment. Might eat you, unless that is a pro for you. Refuses to sleep near anyone. Human racist. Will eat out of the dumpster.

Tommy

Pro: Extremely loyal. He would die for you. Also the easiest of the lot to get into human society. Can get your enemies to pick a fight with a bear.

Cons: Just can't hold hands with that man. Or touch him at all. Leaves residue everywhere and ruins blankets.

Plus like, personalities or something maybe idk

#i ran out of motiation rip i tried tho #sbi #sbi au #dsmp #sbi scp au #mcyt #tommyinnit #technoblade #philza #tubbo #fault au #scp philza #scp tommy #scp technoblade #scp tubbo #scp wilbur #something to nom on

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gravitywonagain · 6 months ago

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so i plotted a thing in the shower the other day... idk if i'll write it or not, but i thought it might be fun to share :)

~ working title: Villains in my Mind Doing Time ~

lwj is a detective who only works cold cases (for Reasons that will come up somewhere in the narrative, probably). he’s almost a year and a half into his latest case when he gets a call from a maximum security prison. they say an inmate there has info on his case and wants to share it. lwj is, understandably, a bit skeptical — especially when he sees the 35 year-old inmate who is supposed to have info on his 50 year-old cold case — but he figures he can check the info after and something is better than the nothing he currently has, even if it does send him on a wild goose chase.

wwx, when lwj meets him, is handsome and well spoken, if a bit angry and… kinda weird? but that’s okay. all of these things are workable. so lwj sits down and — after a rather odd tangent about the sensory experiences of murder, some nonsense about being a medium but only for serial killers, and rambling regrets about starting with the most recent cases because it would have been much easier to prove he wasn't involved in murders he wasn't alive for yet — gets what he came for: the name of the murderer.

(wwx is actually a ghost magnet, of a kind. he attracts serial killers, like, from wherever. idk if his mind is the manifestation of some level of hell through which serial killers atone for their sins or something, i honestly have not thought this that far through, so just bear with me, here.)

lwj takes this info home to follow up on and finds that it’s both more and less than he was hoping for. the name wwx gave him is of a man who was close to the family, certainly, but who was dismissed as a suspect after his first interview. nothing particularly ties him to the case, yet he was also not a man who was discussed in the news where wwx might have stumbled upon his name. there is, lwj finds, some merit to the idea that this person killed at the very least lwj’s victim and in all likelihood — and if wwx is to be believed — several more people.

however none of this information is actionable. it is at best circumstantial, at worst some nonsense accusation from a man who is serving life in maximum security. and the man in question has been dead for several years leaving no living family behind.

lwj goes back to the prison.

wwx is pleased to see him again and even more so to learn that lwj actually believes him and wants to hear more. he shares what he knows, but mostly what he has is a head full of memories that are very difficult to get down on paper. he draws some things, but what lwj really needs, he realizes, is to actually go to the scene, go into all the evidence, speak with family and friends of the victim, etc. all of this will be easier and more fluid if he can just take wwx with him so that he doesn’t have to act as some intermediary between the evidence and the supposed ghost.

lwj still isn’t quite convinced he’s not being taken for a ride, but he’s willing to take the risk of letting wwx out on heavily supervised furlough for a better shot at finally cracking this case and giving the family some peace.

wwx agrees to go on the very strict condition that he be returned to the prison that night. lwj of course agrees to this — that was definitely already the plan — and off they go.

during the first outing, the two are able to get a little bit deeper into the mystery, but they are both quite aware that what they are looking for is going to have been long buried and many people are dead, don’t remember, or don’t want to remember. this is going to take more than one furlough. but, as wwx did not attempt to escape or harm anyone (nobody really expected him to, he’s been a model inmate despite the crazy talk and night terrors for years now), the warden agrees to let lwj take him out again and again.

it’s on the third outing that they run into some trouble and have to spend a night away from home. wwx is intensely worried, but they are able to find a solution with the local municipal jail, borrowing a cell for the night for wwx to sleep in while lwj sleeps at an inn. everything is fine. lwj, out of curiosity, asks the municipal jail for the video of wwx at night and finds out that wwx has horrible nightmares, screaming and flailing in his sleep. this follows if what wwx tells him about hosting the ghosts of serial killers is true, but it also follows if wwx actually has a violent past that he is atoning for in prison. they manage to get a bit more info the next day, but are sure to make it back to the prison that night.

unfortunately, the next bit of information is set to take them much farther away from the city. they will need to road trip out to a pretty small town to meet up with someone, taking multiple days just to get out there, and will probably need to stay multiple days to get the info they need. initially, wwx is adamant that lwj can do this one on his own. lwj, however, has grown to rely on wwx’s unique insight into this case and manages to convince him to come along.

they make a plan, calling up all the jails on their way out there to ensure that they can borrow a cell for the night — not allowing wwx to sleep with anyone else in the room. of course, on their way out there, one of the jails fills up for the night and they have to improvise. they book two rooms at an inn and wwx convinces lwj to restrain him, tie him to the bed — sadly, for non-sexy purposes — and to bar all the exits he can. this is not a foolproof plan… but it works. wwx and lwj both have a rough night of it, but wwx doesn’t escape, doesn’t hurt anyone, and doesn’t hurt himself (too badly). they decide this is an acceptable backup solution, should the need arise again.

the need definitely arises again.

one of the reasons they are out here in this remote area is because the person they are tracking down is slated to attend an art festival nearby. the town hosting the festival is small enough that the draw is not huge, but robust enough to handle the influx of tourism for the next few days. this also means that, when the jail inevitably fills up on their last night in town, lwj and wwx have to share lwj’s reserved room. of course there’s only one bed, this is fanfiction.

so lwj ties wwx to the bed. at this point, he’s mostly sure that wwx at the very least knows things about this case that he shouldn’t be able to know. he’s open to some sort of medium-ship, though uncertain as to what that might mean, entirely. and he is pretty sure that wwx has been requesting such specific sleeping arrangements because he is worried about keeping lwj awake with his night terrors. lwj accepts a bad night’s sleep in return for literally any sleep — they got what they came for but it’s been a long few days — and decides he’s going to sleep in the same room as a bound wwx.

the thing about security cameras in police stations and municipal jails is that they are in black and white.

lwj wakes to a room bathed in a soft red glow and fingers wrapped tightly around his throat. the voice coming from wwx is not the one lwj is familiar with after days and days spent working together, spent talking in the car, over lunch, on the phone. it is deep and guttural, then high and sweet, then laughing and manic. all the while wwx’s body seems to fight itself — not quite strangling lwj, but not quite letting him go either.

luckily, lwj is a strong dude. he manages to break free and subdue wwx. the red fades from wwx’s eyes as soon as they blink open again and wwx shrinks in on himself so deeply lwj isn’t sure he’ll ever find him again.

slowly, painstakingly, lwj is able to coax wwx into the same car as him so they can drive back. wwx is quiet and subdued the entire time, eyes flashing to the bruising around lwj’s neck so much he considers stopping to buy a turtleneck despite the summer heat. each stop goes more or less as planned, though one of the jails has to move some people around to accommodate, and they are clearly less than pleased to do so, but wwx plays up the crazy criminal affect and they make it work.

they’re maybe an hour away from home when wwx suddenly jerks in his seat, eyes rolling back in his head — fully white, not glowing red — and trembling like a leaf. lwj pulls off the road, uncertain.

when wwx gasps back to himself a minute or two later, he’s agitated, urgent. he insists that lwj turn the car around. another killer just died, he says, and this time he’s not too late. the killer died unexpectedly and left some victims alive. he never gets this kind of chance, he says, to make a difference, to actually save someone.

they’re close, is the thing. close to the city, close to finishing lwj’s case. and lwj, fresh off being strangled by a possibly possessed wwx, isn’t the most inclined to veer off the path that will lead him first to his very comfortable bed and second to possibly closing his case. and there’s the niggling fear that wwx, having felt freedom and now being very close to the end of it again, has created a ruse that he will use to ultimately escape.

but wwx is very convincing. and, lwj realizes, he trusts him.

lwj turns the car around and heads in the direction wwx leads him. and wwx is right. they get to the compound just in time to save a young girl from starving alone where she’d been kept. the local police ask questions and wwx ends up almost on the hook for this again, but his whereabouts have been very accounted for over the span of time the crimes were taking place. it looks like he might be charged with accessory again, but given that he was instrumental in saving someone, the local police are fine releasing him back to the prison. they know where to find him, after all.

but, of course, they now have to spend a night in a hotel on the way home.

this time, both of them contend with the added factor that is a combination of the sexual tension between them too long unresolved and the adrenaline high of rushing off to save a life and succeeding. lwj hasn’t been this close to action in a long time, and now (?) is when we learn that he had himself relegated to cold cases and only cold cases because his last imminent case saw him hesitating to fire just long enough to get the victim killed, then opening fire on the suspect in retribution. wwx shares that nobody had ever trusted him like this before, not even his foster parents who had him committed to a mental hospital at fourteen.

and with that kind of day, how can they not have sex about it? it’s sweet and intimate and both of them confess things that the other probably doesn’t believe, but under the cover of night, everything feels like a dream. they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

when lwj wakes, wwx is gone—

just kidding, he’s just freaking out in a corner because he actually slept all night for once and what the fuck does that even mean???

they make it back home — wwx to prison and lwj to his apartment. lwj settles the case, finally able to tell a nephew who killed his uncle and give that family some long awaited closure. wwx settles back in prison, chafing a bit at the loss of freedom and at the loss of time spent with lwj, but pleased he’s been able to make some difference for once. or even twice.

then the prison gets a call from lwj. lwj and wwx smile at each other over the table at which they first met, and lwj lays out several folders while wwx closes his eyes to listen to the voices in his head.

#wangxian #mdzs #cql #fanfiction #modern au #ish? probably? in my head this is set in like the 1970's or 80's or something. doesn't have to be tho #what's the tumblr equivalent of a threadfic?#my writing #my nonsense #acab but we're treating this a bit more like setting souls to rest because cold cases #when they solve the case the murderer gets to move on in the reincarnation cycle or something #the cold case is for sure jgy and the nies #the hot? case? is xy and the girl is a'qing #wwx's head is a detour on the way to the bridge and meng po's soup or something?? i really haven't thought this that far thru #why did i set this up like a serial tv show begging for another season? nobody knows. certainly not me.#vimmdt

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