#so that the learning curve could be more developed

[cto10121]

Twilight Hot Take: Breaking Dawn Absolutely Needed To Be About Bella’s Pregnancy and Renesmee

Today’s meta is brought you to by:

So Clown OP and others of their ilk believe that Breaking Dawn could have had a different—and better—plot focusing on Bella’s immortal life and the Volturi threat. I’ll cover the reasons why this would not be satisfactory here, of course. But I also want to cover other potential alternative plots that would not be great either. This is because Breaking Dawn absolutely needed to be about Bella’s pregnancy and Renesmee.

Think about it. Without the Renesmee plot, what would BD be about in the first place? What internal or external conflicts would it center around that would tie into the main love story? The alternatives I can see are not especially satisfying.

Darthmouth After the Honeymoon?

After Bella and Edward had figured out how to be intimate, Bella voiced that, actually, she wouldn’t mind that semester of college Edward was eager for her to have after the honeymoon. Edward is predictably 🫠 about the fact that it was, indeed, sex all along that would make Bella defer her vampire life.

So Bella and Edward attend university. Cool. How long do you do think Bella would have gotten into trouble with her canonical danger magnet? A month? A week? Also, hanging around with a vampire inevitably attracts other vampires. And then there are the human dangers. Edward could handle those easily, but then we’d get a repeat of the themes of the earlier books—Edward saving Bella, argument over leaving Bella as a human, Bella learning more vampire/supernatural lore, etc. We couldn’t even have another love interest—unless this one, too, has supernatural powers to compete with Edward. We’d want to avoid all that needless repetition.

Best case scenario, Bedward’s college years are fine and nothing of interest happens. Worst case scenario, Bella could very well have been reinforced in her need to become a vampire, which, yeah, duh. The Volturi could still be a problem, certainly, but one easily resolved by just making Bella into a vampire, which was their demand anyway. No muss, no fuss, and thus no conflict.

Vampirism After Dartmouth?

Okay, forget Dartmouth. We could just have Bella being turned by Edward fresh off the honeymoon. We could have Bella struggling with her newborn bloodlust and maybe discovering how she could use her shield. This would be interesting enough; that sequence was compressed in BD proper. But even that conflict would not be enough for a whole book.

For one thing, it would not tie in to Bella and Edward’s relationship in a critical way. Edward no longer is stronger than Bella, and their relationship can finally be one of equals, leaving only some loose ends regarding Bella’s self control. The Barrier to their relationship would be completely gone, leaving nothing in its place. The Volturi can’t be the villains this time, since this is what they wanted in the first place.

The only external conflict would be the Quileute wolves, who could attack the Cullens for violating the treaty. At the beginning of BD, though, Sam was prepared to take the spirit of the treaty and not the letter of it (i.e., it was Bella’s informed decision) and leave the Cullens alone. Besides that, forcing a war between the two groups would not have been natural, considering their alliance in Eclipse. And needless to say, it would really have been bad writing on Meyer’s part to force these otherwise sympathetic characters to be full-throated antagonists.

A New Vampire Crime?

An obvious solution would be to replace Renesmee with another vampire crime Bella/Edward/Cullens are accused of, one that the Volturi would eagerly seize upon to justify defeating the Cullens. But which one?

Bella could slip and eat some humans, but the Cullens are very good at such cover-ups. We have seen the Volturi usually doesn’t bother with a couple of humans missing. Perhaps if Bella were really out of control, yes. But let’s face it, Bella is definitely the type to adjust well to vampire life and even have good control over her bloodlust in general (see: her aversion to blood in her human life). Adding some casualties would not change this base fact.

What about someone accusing the Cullens of creating newborns? The Volturi cleaned up the last batch, and Victoria and Riley are dead. They are not going to believe the Cullens would dip into newborn army creation. Maybe Maria comes back, goes to her old ways, and the Cullens get blamed for it?

I don’t know, but it’s all very unsatisfactory. At least Renesmee could plausibly be taken for an immortal child. The Volturi are corrupt, but they are still the police. They don’t intentionally start trouble; they always wait for an excuse.

Tanya Drama?

This actually has the most promise as an alternative plot. Yeah, I’m not joking.

Bella’s insecurities may not magically go away once she becomes a vampire. If, during Bella’s newborn struggle, Tanya tries to tempt Edward away, it would allow Bella to fight for her man, exactly like Edward did when Bella was pursued by Jacob. Bella could finally accept herself as worthy of Edward. Also, it would tie in to the Bella/Edward love story, which is really what this whole saga is about.

That said, Tanya is no Jacob. Edward would never go for her in any way or even be tempted. The prospect is only in Bella’s insecure little head. It would also do Tanya so damn dirty, and that’d be a shame, since she is the BAMF matriarch of her coven. Meyer not making her into a real love interest/obstacle was a great decision on her part, one the fans have sadly not given her credit for.

A New Villain?

I guess Meyer could have conjured up another external conflict the Cullens would have to battle, this time with Bella as a fighter.

The only positive thing about this plot would be that it’d show Vampire Bella in action, perhaps making some newborn mistakes, but saving the day in the end. She could develop her shield and everything. Maybe she could be the one to save Edward again. Fight for her man in a literal way, as it were.

But yeah, this would be dumb to conjure up this antagonist out of thin air. Maybe someone had a long-time grudge against Edward? Carlisle? It’s just way too late in the series to introduce a brand new antagonist. Meh.

Just Keep Renesmee FFS

Twilight is not a full-fledged fantasy. It’s a romance first, a coming-of-age tale second, and a fantasy a distant third. Anything that does not tie into the Bella/Edward star-crossed love story would be boring and irrelevant, and only antis who hate the icky romance would prefer it that way.

A high-risk pregnancy plot does tie into the love story, and yes, it’s more than just external conflict. Bella’s Cinderbella ways rear their ugly head yet again in her wanting to birth Renesmee at the risk of her life, while Edward almost succumbs to his self-loathing (he initially hates Renesmee not only because she is hurting Bella, but because it is his fault Bella is in danger of yet another monster like himself). They are able to resolve this conflict, thanks in large part to Jacob, interestingly enough.

And thanks to the immortal child misunderstanding, as well as her unique hybrid qualities, Renesmee also attracts danger. That’s why I am interested in a Renesmee book, if just because it gives Meyer a chance to explore hybrids and being in between species and even cultures—both its advantages and disadvantages.

For the bulk of the saga, Bella being human and Edward being a vampire were the main Barrier to their being together properly. In changing the plot of Breaking Dawn, you would 1) artificially lengthen Bella’s human years in order to keep the Barrier, thus repeating the first book or 2) changing Bella into a vampire and thus coming of agency and having an eternity of hot vampire sex. Either way, the series would experience a genre break, veering from paranormal Bildungsroman romance to just plain fantasy. And that would have truly been bad writing.

[ficsonpost-its]

reuniting with pitfighter!vi headcanons

cw: alcohol abuse, blood, general angst

‣ From the perspective of someone who knew Vi before The Incident, the stark change you see in her is downright shocking in a heart-breaking, tragic way. But at the same time, oddly predictable.

‣ This strong willed girl who loved so, so fiercely, who taught other downtrodden kids how to stand up for themselves, who would sooner punch first and ask questions later, was now reduced to a shell of her former self.

‣ You had heard news of a hot-and-ready new combatant in the underground pits deep in the heart of Zaun and something compelled you to check it out. Somehow, could it be her? After all this time?

‣ When you managed to find your way into one of these underground fighting rings (not a small feat at all) it took you a long time to actually recognise her, but when you did, your heart dropped.

‣ Had she dyed her hair? She blended in with the rest of the riff-raff with the dark hair, almost black, with barely a streak of her signature pink to be seen.

‣ There was an energy to her that you couldn't quite place, but it was nothing like the Vi you used to know as round-cheeked kids.

‣ Finding her after she won the fight was difficult, but you managed. Not recognising each other upon first glance was mutual at first, and then she heard your voice

‣ The way she stared at you was almost haunting. Really - she looked like she was seeing a ghost. She was in an awful state now that you were up close and taking in her features after so long.

‣ Her nose was crooked from being broken you dreaded to think how many times, and cuts and bruises were dotted about her face - obviously she still hadn't learned how to block properly, you allowed yourself the one humorous thought.

‣ Her lips were cracked, and a bloodied scab adorned the plump curve of the middle of her bottom lip, near to the now faint scar. Sure you had seen her lips chapped, had felt them at some point when there was a budding development between you both. Before life was upturned and you were ripped apart.

‣ You wondered why she had colored her hair the way she did. How hurt was she inside that she had to resort to a life like this? What had happened too her? You felt a pull, you wanted to make things right for her.

‣ There was something you could smell. A faint whiff. It was faint enough it could somewhat blend into your surroundings, but as you stepped hesitantly closer to your childhood squeeze, you could pinpoint the tell-tale smell of alcohol. How often was she drinking? Those that drank don't just dull pain, they dull and dumb down joy, self control and whatever personality they had too - they live in the cage of the primitive brain. Imagining Vi like that, imagining what drove her to this path in the first place, was almost too much to comprehend.

‣ There was a pause before she said your name, More like breathed it. Just like you she was in disbelief that you were here, in front of her, and very much real. It took you a few moments to respond.

‣ "It's me, Vi. I'm here."

sorry these are short!

[hitwiththefandomz]

Spitfire AU info dump!

So I finally got around to drawing my rottmnt au idea more, so here’s some details behind the dragons♡

The dragons are manifestations of “living ninpo” and act as an extension of the turtles.

For example the dragons are in tune with each of the guys emotions/ thoughts/ instincts/ and powers but can act independently as well

They can technically choose what size they want to be, but each has a natural size that feels comfortable to them (ex: Mikey’s dragon likes to be smaller while Raph’s prefer to be bulkier)

If the guys aren’t in tune with their ninpo or are still developing it, the connection to the dragon can be a little unsteady like dealing with a big cat.

Sometimes a dragon knows better about something or makes their own decisions/ has its own opinion/ takes its own actions.

Even though the dragons can be independent, they prefer to stick close to their turtle and remain near by.

The dragons are technically first connected to the boys through their mystic weapons, but as they all bond the dragons don’t need the weapons to be in use to stick around.

The dragons can make noise♪ little chirp and squeaks. But there isn’t really “spoken communication” between dragon and turtle. Conversations are made through sharing emotions/abstract colors+shapes/ images/ and expressions to mimic talking. So to a turtle it feels like a regular conversation but observers would understand nothing

The dragons can technically eat regular food even though they don’t need to. It would only really fizzle and dissolve once it is swallowed and quickly disappear.

Dragons can interact with physical objects (including people) when they wish to. It takes a little bit of concentration if a turtle is willing it, but with practice each of them can work on it

Opposite of holing stuff, the dragons can phase through things (and people) at will! They are naturally transparent and give off a little bit of a spirit vibe so it’s sort of natural they possess this ghostly ability. They naturally phase through objects so there might be a little bit of a learning curve for the concept of doors and privacy (^^;)

That’s all I have for my info dump! Thank you @paintedkinzy-88 for kicking me back into the dragon frenzy so I could actually get some work done for my au!

[emilys-bangs]

the end of beginning | e.p

Tags: bau!reader, fluff, no use of yn, s2 baby emily, a whole lotta yearning

Summary: In which Emily is new to the team and finds a friend in you. Requested here.

Word count: 1.2k

Emily has always felt out of place. 

In high school, in her mother’s lavish gatherings, in the sprawling estate that she’d eventually learned to call home. It’s never something she can help, though with gritted teeth she developed the art of blending in with fake smiles and perfectly crafted words. It’s a habit that stuck with her, one she’s never quite learned how to shake off even after all these years.

So it makes sense that she doesn’t fit in at her new job.

It works just fine with her. Emily has had a lifetime to get used to it; isolation had become her friend, the liquid movement of her following shadow more than often her only, constant, companion. Despite that, she had a small, lingering hope. That maybe coming back to DC would mean making herself a home, finding—if not friends—companions that she could be casual with, invite out for a round of drinks when the thick silence of her apartment was too much.

Hope was quickly snuffed out. Her boss only thinly veils his distrust, and the youngest—Reid—stares at her with accusing eyes. The rest of her coworkers are lukewarm, not quite yet interested in getting to know her; their gazes are more often than not tinged with condescension, as if they’re not sure she’s earned her place. It seems like everyone’s waiting for her to slip up, for Hotch to chew her out and pluck her from the neatly rounded group they’ve found themselves being, a well oiled machine that works perfectly in order without her.

Everyone, apparently, except you.

You and Garcia, that is, but the tech analyst’s influence is a lot less reassuring given that it’s behind phone calls and computer screens most of the time. But with you there with her—in the field, at your joint desks in the bullpen—things are more bearable. 

“Hey.” 

You’re whispering slightly as you slip into the vacant seat in front of her, fingers wrapped around a steaming mug.

Emily looks up at you. The dimmed lights of the jet reflect in your eyes, painting you in softer edges as you sit down across from her without waiting for an invitation. There’s an easiness to your movements, one that she would say is out of place considering how long you’ve known her. Still, warmth spreads to her icy fingertips, and she can’t help the small smile that pulls at her lips.

“Hi,” she says back, matching your tone. Other than the hum of the jet itself—and the rumble of distant snores she’s too far away to be bothered by—a soothing silence has settled across the cabin, and her voice doesn’t carry much farther than your seat. The smile that you return is friendly, a sight that she’s been slowly getting accustomed to these past few weeks.

She’s a little surprised when you don’t offer anything more to say. You simply lean back in your seat and take a sip from your mug, her eyes tracing the bop of your throat as you swallow and look down at the sudoku in your hand. Emily’s finger is still slotted inside her book; she’d automatically marked the page and shut the cover closed when you appeared, some subconscious mechanism turning in her head so that you get her full attention.

The revelation that you might simply want her company comes too late. 

You’re looking back up at her, your eyes meeting hers as a slow warmth runs beneath her icy skin. Emily should look back down; she has nothing to say, other than the blunt but genuine question of why are you here, but you give a small shrug and she’s enraptured, tracing the sheepish line of your pressed lips.

“Gideon’s snores get a little loud.” You say.

Emily’s surprised to hear her own laugh. It seems you are, too. A small movement draws your brows upward, but the curve of your mouth is distinctly pleased, your eyes brightening beneath the dim lights of the jet. The sound doesn’t last long—it’s low, soft, joined by your own laugh for a few brief seconds—but its effect carries tension from Emily’s shoulders, makes her slip her finger out of her book with a genuine smile.

“That they do,” she murmurs back, already familiar with the loud rumbles that have made their way through thin motel walls, occasionally piercing her already irregular sleep. The sleeves of her cardigan are pulled over her knuckles; she tugs them higher, seeking to cover the ice in her fingertips. 

“Are you cold?”

Maybe she is. Maybe the sound of your voice spills warmth down her veins. Emily doesn’t like admitting things, but her smile gives her away. It borders on shy, barely wide enough for her dimples to curve in her cheeks; she wishes she had a mug of her own to hide behind, but she has an inkling that hiding from you would be pointless.

In the end she shrugs.

You set your mug and sudoku down. “I’ll be right back.” 

She’s left staring at your empty seat, brows furrowing slightly as goosebumps break out on her skin. The jet really is ridiculously cold. And yet when you come back less than a minute later holding out a fuzzy blanket for her to take, she shakes her head.

“Oh, I can’t—”

“Please,” you insist. “I remember I forgot to layer up the first few times on here and I was miserable. Makes you stiff,” your lips twist into a smile, and you’re looking at her so earnestly that she submits.

“It does,” Emily says, this time accepting the blanket. You beam at her and she goes warm, though it has nothing to do with the fuzzy, light gray wool now draping over her lap. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Emily places her book on the table before effectively burying herself in your blanket. It’s warm and soft; when she brings it up over her shoulders, a faint scent of perfume nuzzles against her nose. Yours. In seconds, her hands grow warm. She chances a glance at you, a thank you almost tipping from her lips again—just to continue the conversation, hear your voice, when you do it for her.

“What does that say?” You’re peering at the worn cover of her book. The edges are curled, the spine broken. The margins are full of her loopy scrawl and unsteady underlines, more than a few pages dog eared.

Emily bites back a smile at the curious draw of your brows. “Les Liaisons Dangereuses.” The French slips effortlessly from her lips, smooth and curling. “The Dangerous Liaisons. It’s a French classic, one of my favorites. I could tell you about it,” her hand peeks out from the edge of the blanket and she fidgets with her hair, tucks it behind her ear, “if you’d like.”

You lean your elbows on the table, sudoku very much ignored as you peer at her with something like astonishment. A grin pulls at your lips and she’s suddenly overheating.

“I very much would, Agent Prentiss.”

“Emily.” 

“Emily.” You agree, tilting your head in a nod. “Tell me about Les Liaisons Dangereuses.” You butcher the title beyond belief. The displeased wrinkle of your nose says you know it, and butterflies erupt along Emily’s lungs.

She laughs, the beginnings of a blush staining her cheeks.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi @temilyrights @moonlight-simp 

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Platonic Yandere Demon Queen Headcannons (1)

Introduction | Part 2|

The Demon Queen is adamant that you drink from her even if you're a month off of weening

She just has to get that instinct out 

Constantly holding you against her monumental chest just like she did with her first

Unlike humans who have a nursery, demons make nests

A Soft comfortable place for her and her baby

Hers is in the deep dungeons of one of her many castles

Moving to an identical copy of her nest for wherever she feels like 

Currently, her nest is like a pod

Open and closed by a very specific spell 

The floor is a carpet of flower petals, soft, soothing, and place magically grown to keep fussy babies calm

And that’s what life’s like for you, if not in the soft chest of your new Mama

It’ll be weeks before she will actually part with you to attend her duties

Rarely does she deem any situation dire enough to leave her nest 

But when she does you’re in tow

Swaddled and likely sleeping she has a standing bassinet

Level and matching with her skull-covered throne

“Ah!”

“Yes, we’ll do the obvious thwing mwy lwove!”

“We’ll….proceed with the assassin plan?”

“YES IDIOT! Now go it smells like my baby needs a diaper change!”

Your Demon Queen Mama doesn’t care in the slightest that you’re a human

She loves how long it’s taking for you to grow just a little bit

Demon babes with their extra month in the womb spend less time getting older

Humans on the other hand have a more standard rate of growth

Which she quickly studies up on when she gets concerned that you aren’t speaking yet and can barely lift your head on your own

She proudly hold you in her arms as she speaks to her generals about your development

Her generals will often share there own knowledge about children in concern about hers

While she may scoff and wave them off 

Their concerns usually ignite something she was wondering about

“My Queen is a human babe supposed to not have teeth at this age? Perhaps they’ll need implants?”

“FOOLISH! My baby will need no such thing!”

“I see. Excuse me, my lady.”

“....Say (Y/n) will teeth somehow magically appear within here?”

“Ohhh! Baa!”

Other than the strong learning curve she adores her human baby and celebrates all your major milestones

Making sure to execute anyone who refuses you or even remotely doesn’t pretend to also be so proud

And the first that she does this to is her concubines

You didn’t think she just had this baby with some random 

No no no 

She has a total of three concubines, every now and then she’ll accept another for political purposes but it’s a known fact that they won’t last long

After all her three concubines are known as the three Reapers

One way or another making sure they are the only ones in the Queen’s bed

Something the Queen has always treasured

Loyalty with their entire being

From fear and love a volatile mix of both

The same that she has with you 

And who better to teach you about what to expect than them

She’s…cautious when it comes to you meeting them

While she can’t deny they were among the few who could be near her when she had her…..slump

She also knows their ruthlessness does not stop at rivals in love

anyone who threatens her reign, happiness, and goals they intervene 

Usually without her instruction

She worries they might do the same

But of course both scaring and exciting, the first concubine approaches first

“Oh my Queen! May I sit on the edge of your nest to see your precious baby?”

“You…may…”

She refuses to let her eldest concubine come much closer than that

Already bold to even enter the room, she’s suspicious of her

Her eldest concubine is Milune, gorgeous as she is soft

She’s the Queen’s go-to for comfort

Unbelievably soft in a world full of demons, the Queen adores the balance 

she thanks her human parents for that

“My Queen I’ve brought a specially crafted wunzie for your little one! Can they try it on?”

“They can…but I will inspect it first.”

“Of course!” 

The Queen does recall just how eager she was to help her craft her nest

Lovingly adding her unique magic to the protective spells around it

Recalling a discussion she had with her about being a mother herself

“If my Queen wished it I’d love to conceive for you! Or to handle the raising of the little one when you’re crushing all of humanity! Whatever you wish for your majesty!”

Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad of an idea to let her hold you….only once of course

“Ahh~! Look at you! Aren’t you a joy to behold!”

Milune is holding you up high and filling your face with kisses 

Making baby you laugh

The Queen is torn between happiness at her acceptance of you….and jealousy

Now beginning to master walking, she’s just sad you aren’t crawling only to her anymore

…but she figures its not that bad when she finds a gaggle of elven assassins dead bodies strewn all over the hallway

“They got far too close to the baby, my Queen! Plus the little one just got down for their nap!” 

She’s pretty sure your hearing isn’t that good but she doesn’t mind

In fact she thinks it’s great

Absolutely showering Milune in affection and more responsibility with you

“Oh little one! Come sit in mama Milune’s lap! While we watch your Mama massacre these insolent worms.”

Milune is delighted

As someone who grieved alongside the Queen, your existence brings her a similar joy

And what better way to honor her Queen and love by showering you in the same obsession her Queen adores

When she pretends that your her baby too you are

She’s certain she’d do anything for you and kill whoever she’s allied with to protect you

Including the concubines she’s made a pact with...

TBC...

[slut-and-falcon]

Wicked Fiyeraba Headcannons:

-Fiyero def sits on Elphaba’s lap

- they call each other Yero and Fae; after the Wicked Witch persona dies, they only go by Yero and Fae so less people will be able to tie them to the dead witch and the missing prince.

- one of Fiyero’s favorite activities is to have Elphaba read to him. He finds it very relaxing, and informative. (Fiyero has dyslexia and that why he doesn’t like reading himself- but dyslexia isn’t a diagnosis in Oz, it hasn’t been recogized)

- they take care of young orphaned Animals, and Fiyero got Elphaba an egg apron so she could put all the kittens/small Animals in the pockets while she was caretaking

- Fiyero likes to draw…he draws a lot of Elphaba (and the Animals, but mostly Elphaba)

- Fiyero likes to purchase Vinkun silk scarves for Elphaba. She uses some for practical embellments in her clothing- like as a belt, shawl or hair covering. Others she keeps as house clothes- like as a night shawl. There’s one though- black with red roses- that is only used during intimacy with Fiyero.

- Elphaba and Fiyero have really complex feelings about Glinda…she was Elphaba’s close and only friend for a while, but Fiyero helped Elphaba realize that Glinda treated her like crap (this is apart from not making the sacrifices to leave with Elphaba). Elphaba also had some romantic feelings towards Glinda, and does not know what to do with those feelings. Fiyero loved Glinda, but wasn’t in love with her. He is highly aware of her faults, but still misses her and feels bad for what happened. Both realize that Glinda was manipulated by the Wizard and Madam Morrible, but both also realize that only Glinda is responsible for Glinda’s actions. And can they forgive her for being an anti-Animal/Anti-Witch propaganda machine? For helping in orchestrating Nessa’s death, and creating a trap for Elphaba? They don’t know. Together, Elphaba and Fiyero write letters to Glinda that are then burned before being sent, allowing them to work through all of these feelings and trauma they have in relation to Glinda.

- Fiyero’s favorite thing todo to annoy Elphaba is to use her butt as a pillow. Elphaba hates it (but will tolerate it) and Fiyero loves it.

-Elphaba is very passionate about a lot of stuff, and has a habit of information dumping, even when it’s considered rude. Fiyero likes it, but has felt the need to coach Elphaba for when the time is appropriate to do so, after she accidentally offended Fiyero’s mother.

- Fiyero and Elphaba do the whole “3 taps means I Love You” thing

-Fiyero likes to comb/take care of Elphaba’s hair

- Fiyero is an addict, he got addicted to a ❄️-like ozian drug while in his rebellion/coping-with-being-royalty phase. He hasn’t always been completely honest with Elphaba about it, but he got clean when he joined the Gale Force. He still had carvings, especially with his chronic pain and stress, and he tries to be as honest as possible with Elphaba about his cravings. They both use 🍃 to deal with chronic pain and stress though, but in moderate amounts.

- After being tortured by the Gale Force- Fiyero develops Narceolpsey. It’s a learning curve for both him and Elphaba.

-Elphaba offered Fiyero an open relationship (not because she wanted one but because she thought he would be unhappy with just her, and the novelty would wear off). Fiyero refused (while he had been poly in the past, he refused because he knew Elphaba’s reasonings were based in her feeling inadequate and self conscious).

Hmm I’ll think of more

[boyardee-znuts]

‪‪❤︎‬ a birthday trend for a kpop idol gives you an idea on how to spoil [REDACTED] for his birthday ‪‪❤︎‬ [REDACTED] x fem reader ‪❤︎‬ wc: 5.1k ‪‪❤︎‬ content warning(s): nsfw, yandere, being observed (somewhat) without your knowledge, reader has a pretty prominent chest, more submissive leaning [REDACTED], one (1) kpop reference but not relevant to plot ❤︎‬ [REDACTED] is from 14 days with you being developed by cutiesigh ❤︎‬ mdni banner by cafekitsune

14 days with you is an 18+ game and is not suitable for minors. minors do not interact with the game and/or any fanfiction material posted here.

you’ve learned not to question some of [REDACTED]’s odd habits. 

sure, their quirks like installing cameras in your apartment and hacking into your devices so they could watch you at all points of the day was far from normal, but you’ve learned that [REDACTED] would never lay a hand on you or do anything that would make you unhappy.

you’re no psychology expert. there’s probably some explanation about why something so fucked up could become something so normal, but you’ve decided to cross that bridge when you get there.

at least, those are your thoughts as you lay back on your bed, absentmindedly scrolling through twitter. your eyes gloss over the camera at the top of your phone, and you can’t help but wonder if [REDACTED] is watching you from somewhere else. it’s kinda cute, to think that they’d be observing you with such rapt attention when you’re not doing anything special.

‘happy birthday, johnny!’ a tweet catches your attention. it’s not someone you follow, but it’s the picture of a pretty girl with a revealing top and what looks like a kpop star’s photocard shoved into the hem of her bra. you don’t pay it any mind until a similar tweet pops up from someone else, with a girl’s chest and a different idol’s photocard tucked up snugly against the swell of her breasts.

must be one of those newfangled internet trends. you kept up with them enough to be able to understand general internet lingo and memes, but it wasn’t like you were jumping at every opportunity to do it yourself. 

you’re about to scroll away and go back to wasting your afternoon away by filling your mind with brainrot and nonsensical memes when an idea pops into your head.

you might not feel strongly enough about a kpop idol to post pictures of their photocard in your boobs, but you do have a rather dedicated boyfriend that might appreciate it more than words could describe.

you like that thought. you grin to no one in particular as you swing your legs off of your bed and make your way to your wallet. [REDACTED] is no kpop idol and doesn’t have photocards of them, but you do have a polaroid picture you managed to wrangle out of them during one of your dates. 

you strip yourself out of your top and dig through your wardrobe to find a cute bra. it’s a small white lingerie number with little wing patterns sewn lovingly into the lace edges. [REDACTED] got it for you, mumbling about how it fit your “angel” nickname they gave you. you believe them, but you’re also pretty sure they got it for you because it also looks like wedding night lingerie. 

but it’s perfect for the occasion. you make sure your chest is pushed up perfectly within the lingerie bra, using your elbows to squeeze in from the sides to accentuate the curve of your breasts. you carefully wedge the polaroid of [REDACTED] up against your nipple, barely covering yourself up. you’re revealing so much of your chest, leaving very little to the imagination yet still hiding just enough to leave any viewer hanging.

satisfied with your set up, you angle your phone so that the camera can get a good, clear view of your chest and the picture of [REDACTED] snugly against your breasts. 

“hi, [REDACTED]. thought i’d do something special for you,” you whisper softly. you really hope they’re watching you, otherwise you’d feel stupid doing this for no reason. “it’s your birthday soon, isn’t it? why don’t you come over, and i’ll give you a real birthday treat. consider this a teaser.”

you blow an exaggerated kiss at the camera before you set your phone down and get comfortable again on your bed.

now, you wait.

…

…

…

[REDACTED] makes it to your apartment in eight minutes. you were keeping count. normally they make it over in ten, which means they were most definitely rushing to get to you. and their red cheeks and shortness of breath as they practically knock down your bedroom door only seems to be proof of that.

you bat your eyelashes and look at them as if you were unaware of your ministrations just now. “you made it here so quickly! i wasn’t expecting that.”

[REDACTED] doesn’t even respond. they stare straight at your face as if your words went into one ear and out the other. their widened, blue eyes snake down the curve of your nose and cheeks, down to your neck, before they settle on your exposed chest and the polaroid of themself still nestled against your breasts.

“oh, c’mon, sweetheart.” you pout dramatically. “i know you’re expecting a good time, and i’m more than happy to give it to you, but can’t you at least give me a greeting before we go at it like animals?”

[REDACTED] takes a step back to shove their forehead against their hands and take a moment to calm their wild mind. their eyes flutter shut for a split second as they suck in a deep breath. “sorry. i… i suppose i got distracted. y’looked really good… couldn’t help but run here as soon as y’flashed me with- with that.”

you bite back a pleased laugh at how flustered they sound. looks like they eagerly downed the bait that you set out for them. “i’m messing with you. i’m glad you liked it enough to come see me in person. i was worried that i was doing all this for nothing.”

“i wouldn’t miss out on you for the world,” they breathe. now with the formalities out of the way, they turn to you. there’s a dark shadow that falls on their eyes, staring at your form as if they’re scared to blink. like you’d disappear if they were to tear their eyes away from you. you don’t think you’ve ever seen [REDACTED] this shamelessly desperate. they stay a step away from you, not wanting to encroach on your little safe zone on your bed without permission.

you sit up and pat the spot right next to you, at the edge of the mattress. “loosen up! sit. i promised you a birthday treat, so i am here to deliver. i want to make this all about you, so don’t look so scared.”

[REDACTED] bites at their bottom lip, fiddling with the ends of their black hoodie. but they comply, shuffling from your doorway to your mattress, and they plop down unceremoniously next to you. the mattress creaks in protest with [REDACTED]’s added weight, but once they’re seated, you remove the polaroid in between your chest and set it safely aside somewhere else. done with that, you lean over to press a quick kiss to their cheek. 

you can see their pale face visibly color as you kiss up and down their cheeks. your lips trail over the outline of their jaw before moving towards their neck. you press a lingering kiss over their adam’s apple, and then you tug impatiently at the neckline of their black hoodie to try and reveal more of [REDACTED]’s skin to your wandering lips.

“mmgh- angel-,” they groan as you trace the outline of their sensitive collarbones. your kisses are getting more languid, messy, your spit lingering on their exposed skin. “kissing me there like that… y’know i’m sensitive right there…”

“i know,” you murmur into their body. you shift slightly, practically clinging onto the lanky hacker. “that’s why i’m kissing you here.”

you make exaggerated kissing noises, your teeth tracing against the delicate skin. [REDACTED] has their head fully thrown back, leaning backwards onto their arms. for someone so practiced in the art of acting and play-pretend, subtlety flew out the window when it came to you and your awful teasing. with their throat and collarbones bared fully to you, [REDACTED] couldn’t make it any more obvious that they wanted you to bite them—to mark them.

normally it’d be them gnawing and sucking all over your neck to mark you as theirs, but tonight, you want to smother [REDACTED] in all the love you have. your fingers trickle down their stomach before settling at their crotch, cupping the growing tent in their tight black ripped jeans. their breathing hitches in the back of their throat when your hand ghosts over their visible erection, and you let the sharp ends of your teeth just barely dig into the soft flesh of [REDACTED]’s neck.

“fuck-,” they keen pathetically. “you’re going to fucking kill me, angel.”

“and you’d like it,” you mumble into the side of their neck. “do you want me to keep going?”

they shudder noticeably against your body. they breathe out, “yes. fuck- yes. keep going.”

god, their needy voice makes your heart skip a beat. you fumble around for the zipper before slowly dragging it down, and [REDACTED] helps you as you sneak your hand into their boxers and maneuver their half-hard dick out. you want to grip at their cock and just yank at it until they’re cumming their brains out right into your hand, but you came into this battle with a different outcome in mind.

[REDACTED] trembles again, probably assuming that you’d start jerking them off slowly. you wait, like a wild animal in anticipation for the perfect moment to pounce, until they let out a shaky exhale and let their eyelids flutter shut gradually. good. they’re letting their guard down around you.

you part your lips, drawing closer to their throat. 

and with as much love and lust you can muster, you bite.

“-kgh!” they cry out, flinching against your body. they whimper and moan as your teeth sink into their flesh, making sure the force is deep enough to leave a visible bite mark into their skin. it’s hot, their neck feels hot against your mouth, and [REDACTED] unconsciously bucks their hips, trying to find something to rub up against as a masochistic wave of red hot pleasure flashes against their mind.

it’s only then that you pull away from them, grinning down at them as if you’ve gotten them right where you want them. and you do—they’re panting underneath you, pretty blue eyes glazed over with need, eyes half-lidded as their cock visibly twitches and leaks in between their spread thighs.

you trace your fingers over the reddening bite marks on their throat. you giggle to yourself, moving your fingertips into the shape of a heart. “consider that an appetizer. ready for the real deal, sweetheart?”

[REDACTED] grits their teeth at the condescendingly sweet purr of your words. your nickname goes straight to their boner. “you’re awful, angel. don’t stop.”

your smile only widens as you clamber off of them and find your place on the floor. you push against their already spread knees before wiggling in between [REDACTED]’s legs. you peer up at them with a coy look, and you tug down at the flimsy lingerie top until it’s just barely hanging onto the bottom of your breasts. [REDACTED] looks like they’ve been turned to stone, unable to tear their eyes off of your chest as they sit frozen, propped up like a statue.

like you did earlier towards your phone camera, you press up against the sides of your boobs with your arms and move your chest slightly so that your breasts jiggle right in front of [REDACTED]’s swollen cock. you carefully slot their dick against the valley of your breasts, engulfing their girth partly with your chest. their cock feels hot against your skin, and it jerks slightly against your boobs, a perfect dot of translucent pre-cum beading at their tip.

[REDACTED] looks like they might choke to death on their own spit. you use your hands to push up against your chest from the bottom, trying to get the fatty flesh to fully envelop their thickness. 

“happy birthday, [REDACTED],” you coo lovingly. “i saw a bunch of girls doing this online to celebrate their favorite pop star's birthday, and… well, i thought it’d be fitting for me to do it to celebrate you instead.”

“you’re awful,” [REDACTED] weakly repeats. “you know just what to do t’make me crazy over you.”

“that’s kind of the whole point,” you laugh. before the hacker can smartly get back at you, you move your chest and your hands, sliding their cock downwards into your boobs. you gingerly stroke at the bottom half of their cock, making sure to cup your boobs just right so that their tip peeks out from between your breasts and their sensitive shaft is hugged with all the milky goodness [REDACTED] could only dream of. 

you net yourself a beautifully strangled moan. the sound comes from somewhere deep inside of [REDACTED]’s coiling stomach, and their body stiffens and tenses as you continue moving up and down on their shaft. hentai characters and pornstars make this look so easy, but you move slowly so that you can conserve your energy. 

you squeeze suggestively at your chest, and [REDACTED] lets out another weak cry when they see you groping yourself while you stroke them off. everything is too sudden, too much for them to handle, between you kissing their collarbones and biting like a feral animal at their jugular, to sitting so pretty in between their thighs in the lingerie that they specifically picked out for you, you’ve set the perfect honeyed trap for them to die in. 

“fuck- angel- fuck, my cock feels like ‘t’s gonna explode-,” they’re bucking their hips pathetically against your chest, grinding against your boobs. the delicious friction has their mind reeling, their metal piercings dragging against the soft skin in between your breasts. this is so much better than creeping on you through a camera, furiously fisting at their cock until they’re cumming all over their floor and hand, so much better than the rubbery artificial pleasure of a fleshlight. [REDACTED] just knows this is going to haunt them for the rest of their life. they’re going to beat off to this until their own brain goes hazy and stupid, wake up with a raging boner and rutting against their mattress from embedding this scene and this pleasure so deep into their mind that it invades their dreams. 

“hah-,” their breathing is rapidly turning ragged, the focus in their eyes slipping. “yeah- move your tits like that- move ‘em f’me- jerk me off with them… mhm- squeeze me harder- make me feel good… fuck, doing so good all this just f’me…” 

your chest is so soft and so welcoming, and you’re looking at them with such a pleased look in your eyes that [REDACTED] thinks they might actually pass out from the sheer pleasure. their heart flutters and squeezes inside of their own chest, and heat swirls and thrashes against the inside of their stomach. their cock pulses and weeps shamelessly with pre-cum, and it only lubricates your boobs further.

“do you like it? you look like you’re having a fun time,” you egg them on. your heart is thundering, and your blood races in your ears. it feels so lewd, so wrong yet so right, to be cupping your boyfriend’s cock this closely to your chest, to your heart, and watching them squirm and fuck against your skin. 

“yes- love it,” they manage out. their voice trembles and shakes, and the sound of your boobs squelching around their cock makes them go even more lightheaded. “yeah- just like that- oh, fuck, angel… milking m’cock with your tits- doing something so naughty all f’me… hah- you’ll be the death of me.”

they’re too coherent for your liking. [REDACTED] has never been particularly shy about how much they get off of simply being around, being able to claim you as theirs, on sharing as much intimacy as they can possibly hoard. the base of their pleasure has always revolved around you, but that’s not what you’re here for tonight. 

today is about them. you need to strip them all the way down to your instincts, using your body as the perfect tool to reduce all of their mind games and turn the tables entirely onto them. it would be your perfect reward, to turn your calculating and cunning lover into their true self: a [REDACTED] so lost in you that they can’t think. 

“i’ve always wanted to make you feel good like this,” you muse to them. the cool metal of their dick piercings are starting to warm up, nuzzled perfectly in between their body heat and yours. their cock pulses as you keep talking, your words and voice the perfect aphrodisiac to [REDACTED]. you bat your eyelashes innocently again, the smile they love so much gracing your face like holy light. 

“so naughty…,” they hiss. “tell me what you’re thinking, then. what you’re feeling.”

“hm…,” you trail off, humming under your breath. “i feel your cock… duh. it’s so big… you’re always so big, but having you against my boobs makes it feel even bigger.”

“oh?” their voice trembles the slightest bit when you lean back to rub your nipples over their tip. “y’like that? enough to ‘always want’ to do this for me? jerk my big cock off with your tits?”

heat flares inside of your face, and you pout. you don’t bother responding properly to them. words would be wasted on them when actions would be much louder, and you envelop their cock fully with your tits again. [REDACTED] lets out a moan when they feel the sudden skin-to-skin contact, the soft plush flesh of your tits wrapping all around their shaft and engulfing them with a wave of warmth. 

something deep in their stomach lurches dangerously. they’re lucky you didn’t make them strip all the way, otherwise you’d have a front row view to how much they were struggling to keep it together. [REDACTED] blames it fully on the novelty of getting to fuck their cock in between your boobs. 

“so what if i do? you’re the one getting off to it. look at how hard you are,” you reply curtly. you move your chest in one languid stroke, and it instantly has [REDACTED] recoiling against your mattress frame. you let out a puff of air as if to cement your temporary victory over the smart-mouthed hacker. “i’m gonna make you cum on me. just you watch. let me take care of you today. it’s your special day.”

they laugh weakly, and the bittersweet sting of defeat lingers against the corners of their mouth. they can’t win against you today, not when you’re so determined. it makes them a little shy. every part of them has existed solely to make you happy, so the thought that you’d want to do something to make them happy instead is doing things to their brain.

“alright- do what you want, angel-,” they acquiesce pretty quickly. they could put up a better fight if they wanted to, but they’re nothing if not easily convinced by you. it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to lose themself completely in your presence, especially when you explicitly want them to. they let their head hang back for a second, and their hair slinks from their shoulders to their back. “fuck- yeah- like that… make me cum, angel… make my cock feel good. feels s’good already…”

you take that as your cue to move faster, more passionately. your movements are escalating slowly, moving and cupping your chest based on their reactions. they’re letting you take the lead, and you let their noises and expressions guide you. you try to focus on their sensitive tip, rubbing your boobs all over it before moving all the way from head to base. every time [REDACTED]’s hips move against yours, you morph into their rhythm. their once controlled breathing quickly melts away into short pants and groans, and they’re rutting all over your sternum like they can’t get enough friction against their needy cock. 

“still feeling good? hmmm? are you liking the way my boobs make you feel?” you quip the question both in earnest and to tease them. 

[REDACTED] nods, and they’re barely able to look at you in the face. “yes- s’fucking good… feels s’good to have your tits wrapped around me like that… you’re moving so much too, fuck-!!”

god, you love having this effect on them. it’s so satisfying to know that as scary and ruthless as they could be, you had them wrapped firmly around your little finger. or in this case, you had your breasts wrapped around them. same thing.

“what if i move like this? still feeling good?” you stroke them with more full-bodied motions, and you do your hardest to press as much of your torso as possible against their dripping length. [REDACTED] gives a throaty groan, almost sounding like a wounded animal as they gasp and grip onto the edge of your mattress for what little stability it offers them.

“if you move like that, i’ll- god, fuck, god, angel-,” their words slur together into a garbled mess. “your boobs feel the best- feels so good- doing so good f’me, making me feel so good… love them. love you s’much- you’re s’good to me- spoiling me so much…”

they’re starting to babble, your praise spilling from their mouth endlessly. their cock is so big and so thick in between your chest that you have to continually keep moving to make sure you’re spreading your love equally between their girthy inches. [REDACTED]’s balls tense up and strain against the underside of your chest, undoubtedly wanting nothing more than to spill their load all over your face and chest, to cover you with ropes of their pearly white cum so that there’s physical proof of their love on your body. 

“if you-,” they pant out, their words coming out in short and broken phrases, “if you keep moving like that- keep moving your tits around m’cock like that- i’ll cum- fuck…! i’ll cum all over your tits- your pretty tits- fuck… gonna cum on your fucking tits-”

“oh? do you want to do that? wanna cum all over my boobs? gonna rub your cock all over my boobs and them cum straight onto them? wanted it so bad that you practically kicked my bedroom door in so you could get me in between your legs to jerk your cock off with my tits?” you squeeze your boobs even tighter before loosening them up again, mimicking the pulsing of a wet hole wrapped tightly around their cock. you know you’re torturing them by the strangled moan that escapes them, their eyes already lost amidst the numbing pleasure gripping their head. 

they nod feebly, their head lolling on their neck. they swallow thickly, and their marked up adam’s apple bobs tantalizingly inside of their throat. “yes- want it. want it s’fucking bad, angel- wanna cover those pretty tits of yours with all my cum… fuck- just thinking about it makes me feel s’fucking crazy…!”

their cock throbs and pulses dangerously against your boobs as you move up and down. you can barely hear the wet sounds of your skin rubbing against their length, the repeated shlick-shlick-shlick noises echoing around the room. even the once-cool metal of their jacob’s ladder piercings feel warm rubbing against your chest, and with how much pre-cum is dripping from [REDACTED]’s length, it’s only a matter of time before they lose all control of themself and cum all over you as if they’re in heat. 

“y’feel how hard i am?” they’re drunk on how good you feel, how addictive your body is when up against theirs. they just can’t get enough of it, can’t get enough of you. they want to stay here forever, with you within arm’s reach, wallowing in your attention and affection like a lovesick puppy who’ll suffer without it. “‘t’s all ‘cause of you- you did this t’me- you made me go crazy, made me fall in love with you- now i can’t fucking control myself whenever you’re around… ‘m always wanting more of you- fuck! fuck- fuuuck…!”

you also can’t get enough of winding them down, peeling back their obsessive layers bit by bit until you’re left with a lovesick version of themself, one that would do anything for just a scrap of your time. your body, your time, your attention is so sweet to [REDACTED]’s blown out senses, and they know they’re no better than an addict chasing after their next dose, their next wonderful high. they don’t think they could ever get sick of you, not when you’re so willing to indulge every twisted part of their mind. 

“you’re so good t’me-,” they choke out, staring down at you with unfocused eyes. their eyes threaten to flutter shut, but they use all their willpower to keep their eyes open, wanting to drink up the sight in front of them for just a little bit longer. “always making me feel good… fuck- fuck, angel, what’d i do to deserve you? mm- ngh- feels like i can’t think straight whenever you’re around me- there’s s’much in my heart f’you…”

you’re really no better than them. you want to see it. you want to see them lose themself entirely in the pleasure you’re giving them. you want to cum uncontrollably over your chest. you want their semen to spill over and coat as much of your tits as possible, coating you all over with the reminder that everything you’re doing right now is in complete dedication. it’s a mark of love, and one that you can’t wait much longer for. 

“yeah? you like me that much?” you squeeze your boobs a bit further. “go ahead then. cum all you want. all over me, please.”

“‘m close, angel- c’mon, just a little more… a little more f’me, ‘nd that’s all i need,” they plead softly. your heart flutters inside of your chest, like the whisper of a chaste love rather than the obscene lewdity spread out in front of you. their thighs shake, and you can feel their balls straining against the curve of your underboob. “so close- ‘m so close to cumming…!” 

you know just the push they need to shove them over the edge. you cock your head and peer up at them with as much true affection you can bring up. their face is flushed, and you can see the effort it takes for them to maintain eye contact with you. so sweet, they have always been so sweet for you. 

“i love you, [REDACTED.]”

it’s not the first time you’ve told them this, and it sure won’t be the last. but the effect on [REDACTED] is immediate. a full body shudder consumes them, and the knot inside of their stomach shatters instantly. they���re cumming onto your chest with a barely coherent cry of your name. it feels like heat is eating them from the inside out, sparks of electric euphoria surging through their stomach and head, making their nerves short-circuit as their entire body seemingly drowns in pleasure. 

white ropes spurt out from their tip, and you’re bombarded with round after round of their sticky cum leaking out onto your chest. some of it even hits your chin, and you nearly flinch away as if to avoid it, before remembering your original goal and staying put in between their trembling legs. you let their cum coat you. 

their cum is hot. it burns at your body, and you wince. the heat feels like it’s seeping into the underlayers of your skin, characteristically of the very one who would act like they want to live in your own skin if it were possible. but at the same time, in some twisted way, it feels good to have their cum splayed out all over your chest. it’s the same kind of submissive pleasure that comes from being marked up, from proudly claiming the fact that you’re theirs. 

[REDACTED] doesn’t think they’ve ever came as hard as they did in that exact instant. their mind feels as if it’s been blown out to space, like the entire world has faded away into nothing. their blood roars in their ears, and they can hear their pulse hammering and thumping wildly inside of their chest. their limbs feel heavy and weak all at once, the high coursing all throughout their veins. being told that you love them is the killshot for [REDACTED]—it’s the only thing in this universe that could make them react as violently as they did. 

“you- you just-,” they can’t bring themself to finish their thought. their cock splurts out whatever’s left over out of their orgasm. their length softens against your chest, and you finally relax your tits so that they slide limply from between your boobs. 

you grin up at [REDACTED], who blinks feebly. you scoop up some of the semen that’s coating your chest and stick your tongue out to lick your fingers slowly, smacking your lips loudly. their salty taste spreads against the inside of your mouth, and your throat bobs as you swallow and take their cum down deep into your stomach. 

“mm… perfect.” you hum. your fingertips glide over the top of your chest, where most of their cum lingers, and you use your palms to grope at your boobs again. there’s a flash of something in [REDACTED]’s eyes when they see their cum gloss over your nipples, and you giggle at their reaction. “happy birthday. i know it wasn’t much… but i hope you liked it.”

it’s their turn to laugh. they sound like they can’t believe it, like the past few minutes were nothing more than a dream. “like it? i think that’s the understatement of the fucking century, angel.” 

you shrug continuing to lap shamelessly at whatever cum you can pick up with your hands. it feels so odd, to be chatting with them so casually while taking down tonguefuls of sticky semen, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. “like i said, it is your birthday. and i want you to be more selfish on your birthday.”

you know you’re practically signing off on your doom whenever you tell [REDACTED] that they can be more selfish with you. they raise an eyebrow, as if questioning how much they can take you up on that offer, but when you don’t budge at all, the slight curiosity on their face quickly turns into poorly restrained delight.

“if you insist, then i sure don’t have any other choice.” they lean towards you, and they reach a hand towards you to cup your face. their thumb drags along your bottom lip, remnants of their cum smearing against your skin under their touch.

“i’ll take you up on that, angel. i’ll be as selfish as i want on my special day. just for you.”

takashi murakami: and then x6 white

[canisalbus]

Oh, speaking of Vasco & Machete's voices, I always imagined machete as having either a very high and delicate voice or an uncharacteristically grave, low and regal voice, similar to how Jeremy Irons voices Scar in the original lion king. I personally like the grave voice idea much more, i find it at the same time a curve ball and somehow fitting of Machete

I think it's a little bit of both. Machete has a meticulously crafted work persona that is quite different from what he's like off the clock, you could say he has developed a distinct customer service voice. It's imperative that he comes across as professional, respectable and authoritative, so he has learned to use a lower register than he normally would, and keeps his tone cold, measured and impersonal. I'd say he sounds dignified and somewhat long-suffering, often with a tired, bitter creak. All in all he sustains this business facade quite well.

In private he's very soft-spoken and tends to have an underlying wounded, whimpery frailness to him. He practically never raises his voice but when sufficiently agitated, he becomes a fast and expressive talker and his pitch rises sharply. He doesn't sing (outside of conducting an occasional Mass, I suppose) but has a surprisingly light and airy laugh.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Stretch Marks

Aegon: He wouldn't care if someone he was with had stretch marks. He'd be too busy... enjoying you to really pay attention to them. After some time, he does enjoy it far more but still, to be honest, he wouldn't care if you had or didn't have them. I don’t think it'd even register with him.

Aemond: Stretch marks are a natural occurrence on a person's body, caused by skin stretching underneath pressure. He finds you are beautiful and he'd be thrilled to see you bearing the marks that testify to the many sacrifices you have made. He would have no problem with it if the person he loves was afflicted with stretch marks. He is not so shallow, that he would turn away one of the most beautiful creations the gods have brought into this world for something so inconsequential and natural.

Jacaerys: It is only a mark. Nothing more. A body is a beautiful thing, even if some scars are left behind. In truth, a person with marks on your body is as perfect as a person without them. Perhaps, with time. he would learn not to see them for the marks they are, but just another feature that makes you his.

Lucerys: If you developed stretch marks he wouldn’t be bothered by such a thing. They are a part of you, and he thinks your figure is beautiful with or without them.

Rhaenyra: I'll tell you what she'd think if she saw your stretch marks. She'd kiss them. She'd tell you that your body, flaws included, is perfect in her eyes. She'd worship you, because she is a lucky woman to be with you, and stretch marks don't make you any less beautiful.

Daemon: It does not make a difference to him. It would, all the same, be a testament to the person that he has decided to make his queen. It would be but a part of you, as all of you is part of you. He would not let something as insignificant as small scars bother him. In fact, he would even love such scars. It would show that no matter what happens, you are still beautiful in his eyes, and you are still his.

Alicent: She believes that stretch marks are an entirely natural part of the human experience. They are caused by a combination of factors, such as pregnancy, growth spurts, or simply due to natural body change. They should be seen as nothing more than simply that. Nothing about stretch marks is unattractive or unappealing in her eyes. In fact, it is quite the contrary. It shows the human experience and that beauty comes from flaws. She sees nothing wrong with them, and she doesn't believe anyone else should either which she makes clear as she shows pure adoration and kisses to those areas.

Helena: It’s hardly different. She would still feel the same. Stretch marks are natural. The only thing it signals is that you have matured. Grown. Changed. All very natural things. No person wants the same body as you had as a child, and she loves you all the same even developing a habit of running her fingers across your skin to relax her.

Harwin: Having a partner with stretch marks is an honor to him. He sees you as a strong and dedicated person if you have children, who have carried them into the world and given of your time and your body in service to your family. The stretch marks are not a defect, but rather a badge of courage and honor. They are the natural scars of something beautiful. He would not have his partner any other way.

Cregan: He sees no reason why it would make a difference. There is beauty in a person's curves. It shows him that you have no fear of eating and drinking. It is good to keep trim and in shape, but to have some extra curves on a person makes you more...pleasing to his eyes, one could say.

Criston: He would be remiss to ignore their presence. However, they are not cause for concern. They are signs of valor, not of weakness. He would comfort and assure you of his love and affection, which has never wavered. The scars tell of strength and commitment. They tell of a story worth hearing, and a person worth knowing or in his case bragging about.

[nasa]

Caution: Universe Work Ahead 🚧

We only have one universe. That’s usually plenty – it’s pretty big after all! But there are some things scientists can’t do with our real universe that they can do if they build new ones using computers.

The universes they create aren’t real, but they’re important tools to help us understand the cosmos. Two teams of scientists recently created a couple of these simulations to help us learn how our Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope sets out to unveil the universe’s distant past and give us a glimpse of possible futures.

Caution: you are now entering a cosmic construction zone (no hard hat required)!

This simulated Roman deep field image, containing hundreds of thousands of galaxies, represents just 1.3 percent of the synthetic survey, which is itself just one percent of Roman's planned survey. The full simulation is available here. The galaxies are color coded – redder ones are farther away, and whiter ones are nearer. The simulation showcases Roman’s power to conduct large, deep surveys and study the universe statistically in ways that aren’t possible with current telescopes.

One Roman simulation is helping scientists plan how to study cosmic evolution by teaming up with other telescopes, like the Vera C. Rubin Observatory. It’s based on galaxy and dark matter models combined with real data from other telescopes. It envisions a big patch of the sky Roman will survey when it launches by 2027. Scientists are exploring the simulation to make observation plans so Roman will help us learn as much as possible. It’s a sneak peek at what we could figure out about how and why our universe has changed dramatically across cosmic epochs.

This video begins by showing the most distant galaxies in the simulated deep field image in red. As it zooms out, layers of nearer (yellow and white) galaxies are added to the frame. By studying different cosmic epochs, Roman will be able to trace the universe's expansion history, study how galaxies developed over time, and much more.

As part of the real future survey, Roman will study the structure and evolution of the universe, map dark matter – an invisible substance detectable only by seeing its gravitational effects on visible matter – and discern between the leading theories that attempt to explain why the expansion of the universe is speeding up. It will do it by traveling back in time…well, sort of.

Seeing into the past

Looking way out into space is kind of like using a time machine. That’s because the light emitted by distant galaxies takes longer to reach us than light from ones that are nearby. When we look at farther galaxies, we see the universe as it was when their light was emitted. That can help us see billions of years into the past. Comparing what the universe was like at different ages will help astronomers piece together the way it has transformed over time.

This animation shows the type of science that astronomers will be able to do with future Roman deep field observations. The gravity of intervening galaxy clusters and dark matter can lens the light from farther objects, warping their appearance as shown in the animation. By studying the distorted light, astronomers can study elusive dark matter, which can only be measured indirectly through its gravitational effects on visible matter. As a bonus, this lensing also makes it easier to see the most distant galaxies whose light they magnify.

The simulation demonstrates how Roman will see even farther back in time thanks to natural magnifying glasses in space. Huge clusters of galaxies are so massive that they warp the fabric of space-time, kind of like how a bowling ball creates a well when placed on a trampoline. When light from more distant galaxies passes close to a galaxy cluster, it follows the curved space-time and bends around the cluster. That lenses the light, producing brighter, distorted images of the farther galaxies.

Roman will be sensitive enough to use this phenomenon to see how even small masses, like clumps of dark matter, warp the appearance of distant galaxies. That will help narrow down the candidates for what dark matter could be made of.

In this simulated view of the deep cosmos, each dot represents a galaxy. The three small squares show Hubble's field of view, and each reveals a different region of the synthetic universe. Roman will be able to quickly survey an area as large as the whole zoomed-out image, which will give us a glimpse of the universe’s largest structures.

Constructing the cosmos over billions of years

A separate simulation shows what Roman might expect to see across more than 10 billion years of cosmic history. It’s based on a galaxy formation model that represents our current understanding of how the universe works. That means that Roman can put that model to the test when it delivers real observations, since astronomers can compare what they expected to see with what’s really out there.

In this side view of the simulated universe, each dot represents a galaxy whose size and brightness corresponds to its mass. Slices from different epochs illustrate how Roman will be able to view the universe across cosmic history. Astronomers will use such observations to piece together how cosmic evolution led to the web-like structure we see today.

This simulation also shows how Roman will help us learn how extremely large structures in the cosmos were constructed over time. For hundreds of millions of years after the universe was born, it was filled with a sea of charged particles that was almost completely uniform. Today, billions of years later, there are galaxies and galaxy clusters glowing in clumps along invisible threads of dark matter that extend hundreds of millions of light-years. Vast “cosmic voids” are found in between all the shining strands.

Astronomers have connected some of the dots between the universe’s early days and today, but it’s been difficult to see the big picture. Roman’s broad view of space will help us quickly see the universe’s web-like structure for the first time. That’s something that would take Hubble or Webb decades to do! Scientists will also use Roman to view different slices of the universe and piece together all the snapshots in time. We’re looking forward to learning how the cosmos grew and developed to its present state and finding clues about its ultimate fate.

This image, containing millions of simulated galaxies strewn across space and time, shows the areas Hubble (white) and Roman (yellow) can capture in a single snapshot. It would take Hubble about 85 years to map the entire region shown in the image at the same depth, but Roman could do it in just 63 days. Roman’s larger view and fast survey speeds will unveil the evolving universe in ways that have never been possible before.

Roman will explore the cosmos as no telescope ever has before, combining a panoramic view of the universe with a vantage point in space. Each picture it sends back will let us see areas that are at least a hundred times larger than our Hubble or James Webb space telescopes can see at one time. Astronomers will study them to learn more about how galaxies were constructed, dark matter, and much more.

The simulations are much more than just pretty pictures – they’re important stepping stones that forecast what we can expect to see with Roman. We’ve never had a view like Roman’s before, so having a preview helps make sure we can make the most of this incredible mission when it launches.

Learn more about the exciting science this mission will investigate on Twitter and Facebook.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[wonton4rang]

Omg i have been binge reading all of your bnd imagines, and i was wondering if you could rate whose MTL to date a foreigner in bnd. Love you writing style, btw🫶🏽

omg hi hi :') tysm!! my pleasure 💜💜💜 thank you for giving me the chance 🫶💖

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

pairing: bnd x reader.

warnings: none? mentions of smut. (legal members only)

summary: bnd mtl (most to least) likely to date a foreign.

note: sorry for the delay!! i've been really busy at work :(

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

sungho; personally i feel like he would stay close to home so most likely korean or japanese, the last one is a foreign tho so yeah. i feel it would be mostly because of the language barrier and the distance. but i do see him falling for a foreign and then being so frustrated that he would go days without even laughing or talking more than the necessary because he's too busy thinking how tf is he going to get you if he doesn't speak your language and lives on the other side of the world :(

riwoo; sorry. i'm so sorry. the only way this man would fall for a foreign is if they are dance partners or have to work together on something and he feels WAY TOO attracted to you, like he would be drooling for you and would even start learning your language just so he could rizz you up properly :') but i feel he would go for koreans tho.

jaehyun; he makes me confused. i feel like he loves his asian girlies but he's also so open to anything and i've seen him openly checking out foreign fans on a crowd so i think he would just need to fall for you and most likely wouldn't mind if you are a foreign or not. he just has to like you and he'll work it out. plus, he's a high libido boy for me so bet he would be drawn to curves and big ass and boobs so that plays a role too.

taesan; i feel like he has a very specific type but at the same he doesn't. he honestly gives me some "if i like you, that's enough" vibes but also "you're 9/10 my type, which i don't know what it is yet, but it's not enough so i ain't fucking w u", and idek how that makes sense but basically i feel like he won't be paying enough attention to looks but more into personality so as long as you guys speak the same language (not just literally korean, also ideals) he's down for it.

leehan; you breath? he's on your neck. he doesn't mind AT ALL, but i do see him leaning more into an specific type, the bubbly yet shy one, idk if it makes sense but the typical girlie that's so kind and happy but also so easy to get blushed and so on. because trust me when i tell you leehan is heeseung's pupil when it comes to their flirty ass... the smirks??? he's so fucking you while calling you the prettiest names and you blush like a mad girl.

woonhak; honestly idk, i feel like he is yet to find it out himself. he's too young so it's hard to tell but so far he would stay with korean girls because he's not that "experienced", he doesn't know any foreign languages to that extend and South Korea is all he knows so yeah. he's on character development :')

so for me it'll be:

MOST.

leehan. again, he's into whatever breaths so yeah.

jaehyun. love is limitless <33

sungho. he's very open minded when it comes to love.

taesan. love prevails.

riwoo. not very into it but it could happen.

woonhak. let him finish highschool, thanks.

LEAST.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Okay for another rec. I know you are busy but I need to send you this before I forget it in like 20 minutes

Tangerine x reader smut and fluff?

You work with the Twins and over time you and tangerine develop a FWB sort of agreement. That is after missions and assignments you two always end up in a safe house where you blow some off some steam and come down from whatever hell you just went through.

After one smutty unwinding sesh, you can tell tangerine is still tense but exhausted. So without words you arrange yourself on one side of the bed and guise his heavy body to lie on you for a cuddle, you show him that it’s okay to be the little soon. You gently run you fingers through his hair and calm him down more eventually falling asleep. From then on, it’s rare and he won’t say it out loud but you know when he needs to to be held.

Im a sucker when guys are never used to that type of comfort. Never knew they can be the little spoon, or your weighted blanket. Like they are touch starved so when you show them that affection they are like WTF?! but melt into it.

frickin love LOVE love fics like this omg!! he so deserves it. thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

GIVE IN TO IT.

tangerine x implied fem!reader — fluff/ comfort

word count. 453

summary. he’s not used to being the one to receive affections, so you take it upon yourself to change that after noticing he looks down (paraphrasing from the ask)

Tangerine is very rarely the kind of guy that’s open about the way he feels, about what is actually going on in his head. He often brushes off concerns and questions, dismissing any kind worry as he felt it wasn’t worth the hassle.

You learnt rather quickly through your no strings attached agreement, that he’s almost reluctant about being the one to receive love and care, and that he’d much prefer being the one to give. And though you both promised nothing else would come of this situation – that it would strictly remain physical, you couldn’t help but want to be the reason to let down his guard. To let him absorb that love he ever so clearly needs.

Safe houses after missions were the prime spot in which you’d both let off some steam – delve into your purely physical relationship. 

But tonight, you could tell something was different with Tangerine.

After you both finished, he wasn’t like his usual self: he didn’t bring you in for a cuddle, he didn’t jump at the offer to clean you up, he didn’t paw at your hips – begging you to stay in his room for the night. He kind of just layed there, catching his breath, absentmindedly staring at the ceiling above.

It was a worrying sight really, and it wasn’t something you felt equipped to deal with. You’ve never had a chance to learn how to combat it before.

You knew he was tired, exhausted even. He looked as if something was weighing him down, like something was on his mind.

And so, you scooch into his side, slipping an arm under his neck – like you were repositioning him, silently instructing him to turn into you. At first, he’s rigid, almost reluctant to cave in. 

But when you hum softly, it only gives him that push he needs to give into the touch. He rolls over so he’s on his belly, half of his weight resting on your side – the other half on the mattress, his arm draping across your middle.

You envelop your arm around his head, palm soft and gentle as it grazes over his hair, like the act was solely to soothe him. You other wraps around his back, stroking up and down his smooth, bare back, following the curve of his spine.

He sighs faintly at the touch, a gentle blissed exhale telling you it was what he needed. He just needed to be held, even if he didn’t know it himself.

And as you lovingly stroke him to sleep, soothing and calming and winding him down – you knew you had just passed a line. Past a point of no return in your sexual agreement. 

Clearly, this was something more.       

[waltzingwithyourenemyattheball]

PICK A CARD: HOW WILL YOU MEET YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE?

Top Left: 111 ; Top Right: 222; Bottom: 333

Disclaimer:

Take what resonates and leave the rest.

The disclaimer in pinned post applies here too.

No one is allowed to copy my work under any circumstances.

DM for personal readings.

🥀111🥀

You could meet your partner through a woman, (be it a mother, friend) an expressive and creative woman. She could be a  neighbour, married women or someone who has light within them and the ability to spread light, a woman in love with life, could paint or do arts and crafts, could like sewing too. You guys could meet in some class/workshop you both are taking. One of you may not want to be here. You could meet at an art exhibition, museums, while shopping etc. Another possible location is at the park, where you run or jog. Either or both of you are into fitness, if not you will be at the time you meet them and will be taking care of yourself. Definitely at a public place, could be party where they are your friend’s friends, there is dancing, food and things fun, people will be taking among themselves. Happy positive energy, one of you likes to talk. Yes, I am seeing you’ll meet them when you are satisfied and fulfilled with how your life is going, could be 9 months from now. You could also meet them in march or May next year. You are confident, vibing, and they will show up suddenly when you least expect it. First meeting, they’ll notice you for a while before approaching you, they come across flirty, graceful, and put their best foot forward. Definitely a pleasant meeting. The meeting could end up being open-ended, like you may not have set a time to meet again, no one’s asked anyone out on a date, simply exchanged numbers/social media’s. You two might also end up going at the same bakery and meet again. They do have an offer for you but it will take some time before things become official. Don’t be disheartened, this is your future spouse so you guys definitely do end up together. 

Comment ‘111’ to claim.

🌸222🌸

In class, a learning institution, could have meet in school, colleges, coaching centres, any hobby classes you take etc, but you are definitely here to learn and practice. These could be online workshops/certificate classes as well. It took you blood sweat and tears to pay for this course, it is something you have wanted to do for a long time, you know you are good, naturally talented. I am getting Annabeth from Percy Jackson, those vibes. You could meet at a martial arts academy, or even the gym. He is the new guy. Again, someone struggled to get where they are today(at the point you meet them). I am getting the same messages again, learning centre, through teachers too. You might be in the same group/team for projects, paired up together every time. You both will learn together, grow together. You will learn giving people benefit of the doubt, and becoming soft, not always having your guard up. You will be passionate about what you are doing, love is not even on your mind and you’d rather just focus on something else but it will creep up on you slowly, like the sea touches the shore take a step back before merging again, during the course of time the lines will get blurry, from I had dinner with them because practice ran late to ‘Hey, you want to get dinner together?’ With no compulsion of any situation. Slowly you will reach out to them, it will morph into a friendship with a small crush to your partner for life, it’s a slow burn but it’s worth it. 

Comment ‘222’ to claim.

🌻333🌻

It will take a way for your union. Right now you need to develop into your authentic self, become more of yourself and express that. You feel unfulfilled and incomplete, you think finding a partner will solve all things, some of you are up and down the curve, on one day you literally can’t live without your soulmate and are dying for them to magically appear in your life to who cares? I just want to focus on me, my career, and money. There is  loneliness in your heart. I hear that your future spouse is not currently decided which is a good thing, the more you evolve, the more evolved person you will attract as your future spouse. You could meet them during grocery shopping, buy plants, getting your salary, when you are living the life you want to life like in an apartment with many plants, some art, mainly white with pops of color all around. I am seeing Europe for some of you. You could meet them after a life changing decision you took, it could be pack up your bags and move across the world. You will not be staying where you are right now that’s for sure. You are taking a chance on life and loving it. After this everything will start to get better, feel better. You are buying flowers for no reason and getting your chai/coffee, dressing up everyday. Everything is so colourful suddenly, that’s when you meet them. This is a new person, no toxic exes here. You literally are living your best life, laughing, hanging out with friends, genuine happiness, good bed time, someone who can’t wait to wake up to their new life, that is when you’ll know your future spouse is ready to come into your life and they ARE MATCHING YOUR ENERGY.  

Comment ‘333’ to claim.

-

EL TAROT

[lj-lephemstar]

Progress Checkup! (Nov. 2024) | Scratchin' Melodii Devlog

​​Hey again guys! Sorry if it's been a bit since the last devlog. With how much I've been up to, it sure feels like it!

Let's get right into it. For starters, the 3rd rival battle of Act 2 is complete! I'll likely be showing a gameplay preview of it sometime soon. This is the first song to use the new framework that I'll be using for all the other stages going forward, which also means I've had to spend the past couple weeks getting the previous songs working with this new system too... Did you know that in the demo builds, if I wanted to change something about the gameplay, I'd have to manually go back and change it for EACH individual song one by one? Well now, imagine all the songs had like a peace treaty to just share one good, clean, and organized system that I can easily tweak and add to as I please. So development is gonna be smoother than ever from here! This is how most games are SUPPOSED to work, but I was a liiittle too stupid to figure out how to do this until recently!

While I was moving Cream Cheese Icing over to this new system, I took the opportunity to make the chart a bit more beginner-friendly! For example, the first line went from this...

To just this!

As you can see, it has less notes, therefore it is less scary for new players. Believe it or not, I actually never intended for Cream Cheese Icing to be so difficult for new players in the first place! Naturally, being too good at my own game can make gauging the difficulty curve a bit tricky at times, but I think I'm figuring it out!​

You may have also noticed that the characters have new UI icons too! I felt like the old ones were too flat and boring, so I did a new take on them, aiming for more dynamic shapes and angles, not to mention how my art style's just kinda grown a bit in general since I last drew the icons. I also ended up leaving out the circles behind them. I was a little worried I was gonna run out of unique colors for all of them at some point, plus SOME of these guys can have really big hair and/or hats that pretty much just cover up the whole circle anyway. (hi rensa)

Speaking of artwork, here's a little look at some of the updated animation I've done for Stir & Mix! (Try to imagine it in not highly-compressed-gif-form. I promise it looks better in-game!)

When working on Stir & Mix related stuff, I can't help but feel a bit of a sense of dread knowing how people may react to it... Honestly, sometimes I kinda wish it never got as popular as it did in 2022. But hey, doing my own thing regardless of what's expected of me is the most Scratchin' Melodii thing I could do!

Speaking of which, Mia learned a ton of new stuff while doing the VOCALOID tuning for the last rival battle we worked on, so we might revisit Stir & Mix's vocals again at some point before release to give it even more style! (By the way, Mia and 2cada are the same person! Sorry if I refer to both names interchangeably! She's been the one doing all the VOCALOID tuning and vocal mixing for the game since 2023.)

Well, I think that's all for now! Here's another friendly reminder that there will NOT be anymore demos of the game. Any new content will be saved for the full game's release. I know I've said it before, but I probably won't stop saying it until people stop getting confused about it LOL. Thanks for reading!! I appreciate you. - LJ

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

WAIT I HAVE A THOUGHT! ok i have two i think it could turn into more but price using his military rank to either a) get someone to back off of sunshine!reader and marissa OR b) sunshine calls him captain during sex OR c) HE USES IT IN BOTH OF THOSE SITUATIONS IN THE SAME FIC 👀👀 …are those weird? idk but if you feel up to it this is a request for you to work your magic on this please and thank you

A/N: uhm, don't look at me nonnie, I got too carried away🫣

Rank me

Summary; As a Captain, Price has an air of authority not everyone does. One day when he returns from base, he finally makes you admit why you find that trait of his particular attractive 

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot 

Word count; 9.3k

Warnings; smut (18+, no minors please), captain!kink, vaginal fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, slight edging, d/s themes,

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

You sit opposite John, elbow resting against the armrest, head propped up by your fingers. He's seated in one of the two armchairs on the other side of your coffee table while you're sitting on your couch. A folder rests partly on the armrest of his seat and the unoccupied armchair beside him. A few more maps, although closed, were placed on the table. 

You're not nosy with John's work, so the seemingly inconspicuous folders aren't what's gotten your attention. The man reading through them does.

John's elbow relaxes on the armrest while his lower back is curved, sunken into his seat, legs spread with feet planted firmly on the ground. 

You'd tried to remind him of his posture, knowing he probably would complain about his back if he sat like that for too long. When you had, those blue eyes had flickered to yours with an appreciative look as he repositioned himself straight. However, he didn't last like that for long before slowly melting downwards again, retaking his 'I have a bad back but won't do anything about it pose'.

Although, as you now watch him working, it isn't a chide resting on your tongue.

John has returned to active duty, the past week being his first one back since he extended his issued downtime by a week after his most recent deployment, the one during late summer. You learned there's a big difference between active duty and deployed, never even coming close to either despite that martial course you took a few years back. The former meant you often were stationed on your home base, able to go back and forth home if you desired, much like ordinary work. The latter entailed 'a little field trip' as John worded it.

Today, John came to your place as soon as he got off from base, much like he'd done a few times during the week. 

You didn't fuss about spending less time with him than when he was on leave. Not only was it John's job, but there were no regulations for contacting him, so he called the days you didn't meet. Often, the description of his day was brief, only defined somewhat if anything varied from his typical routine. John was usually more interested in how you were and whether you'd done something interesting. If your day had been equally bland, he enjoyed just listening to whatever was on your mind. Today, however, no phone call replaced his absence.

You and John planned to spend the weekend together at your place, and much like he'd promised, he called you once on his way. But, rather than a simple heads-up, he also informed you he would bring some paperwork, his superiors pushing a last-minute request upon him as he was about to leave. You suspected he was permitted to leave base with the documents through his involvement in the 141, not solely because his response ideally -another word for required- would be reported back tonight. 

You've learned a great deal about how John likes to work, even if you've been fortunate to develop your relationship with him in a particularly deployment-free time window of his. 

He prefers keeping work and home separate, not wanting the two words to bleed together in favour of your relationship. John explained why when you didn't understand his frustration about bringing some work with him back home during your earlier call.

Deployments cut into your shared time as it fits, the two of you having to work around it rather than the other way around. Therefore, he intends to limit work to base to savour your time while on active duty or ahead of a leave. If that meant staying a day or so longer after returning from a mission where logistics needed to be taken care of, as he'd done during the summer and your first extended period apart, he said he would make that choice. And if there's an increased load of executive planning and paperwork due to an upcoming operation, his approach is the same.

He explained that, in the past, he'd very much blurred the lines, seeing how being alone and doing nothing for long periods left him restless. But with you in the picture, John tried to balance it. And just like that, you understood his dilemma tonight. He didn't want to make it a habit: filling the time he spent with you working.

You'd tried to compromise, not that you technically could, as he needed to finish his report no matter what. But, you tried to ease John's mind, telling him that sometimes it happened, just like it probably would for you. That was why you also proposed spending time in each other's company by working on your separate stuff, so he didn't feel like he took time away from you. 

For you, that was just fine. It had already been an informal workday for you, meaning no meetings and no contact with clients, simply organising stuff and getting ahead on projects for the upcoming week. Continuing with that for a bit longer was no problem.

Your sluggish day of labour was apparent, as you hadn't even changed out of your sleeping shirt. Neither had you scampered to get a pair of pants when John knocked on your door, favouring to simply greeting him as you were.

He'd been surprised at seeing your state of undressed, rather bare-legged with only underwear beneath his black t-shirt, one of those he left behind earlier during the week. 

Though not surprised like him, you were as delighted as all the other days he'd stopped by, spoiled rotten with seeing him dressed like this.

Like most days this week, that implied some getup per military standard. Today, John wore fitted cargo pants and an army sweater that got the quarter-zip open, offering a view of the tight-fitted shirt beneath it.

He'd greeted you in his same old fashion, a 'hello, love' as he stepped forward and over the threshold to meet you with a kiss. What followed, however, was a hummed 'can get used to bein' greeted like this' against your lips as he parted from you. 

He'd ushered you backwards to let him enter and hide you from any potential neighbours passing by your entrance to see your scantily clad figure.

You didn't object as he closed the door behind him and put down his bag before kneeling to unlace his heavy boots. Instead, your eyes had flittered over his haunched form as he rucked loose his laces before standing straight again, hooking the back of his shoes beneath his toes and stepping out of them. 

He'd followed you into your living room then, deciding to sit opposite you to avoid disturbing the corner you'd set up on the couch, where your computer and blue-light glasses waited. 

Currently, your laptop rests on a pillow in your lap. The glasses you'd invested in, purely because of the copious amount of time you spent before a screen through work, resting on the bridge of your nose. Yet, you're currently using neither as you should. 

The same black standby screen stares at you now as when you'd gone to greet John when he arrived two hours ago. And, your glasses don't serve their purpose of shielding your vision from electronic lights, concerning your attention is directed towards the burly figure of a man sitting so leisurely opposite you.

You hadn't seen John in his work clothes many times. Technically, you'd never seen him geared up and probably never would. So, the closest thing you would get was the standard dressing code he needed to adhere to on base. Up until this week, you'd barely even seen that.

Whereas now and for a few months ahead, the military would cling to him whenever he came around straight from work and spent the night, leaving in a similar-styled fashion in the morning concerning active duty often meant early mornings on base for John, either for a workout regime, meetings or supervising cadets. Between those instances, while unwinding with you, he changed into something more comfortable.

That was why your time of admiring John in these clothes was brief. And yet today, you got to indulge in one of the considerably fewer instances when he didn't immediately change after greeting you and borrowing your shower. In fact, this night was a total break in the routine.

Your eyes drop to the bag beside the armchair John occupies. 

He'd said he would take his usual post-work-freshening-up shower after finishing the most pressing report. But, he'd gotten stuck in the typical workflow that was difficult to break, reaching for another map of documents rather than the bag resting by his feet. Maybe you should've reminded him, but you didn't. 

The honourable reason? You didn't want to disturb John when noting the pile of documents to read had staggered to a measly two compared to the stack he'd brought. The selfish reason making your attention stray considerably more than his laser-focused one? You wanted to savour his appearance a bit longer. 

You knew the visible neckline of the shirt beneath his sweater teased about what was underneath, namely a compression shirt fitted to accentuate John's muscled torso rather than hide it, a sight drool-worthy by itself. But the jumper wasn't a villain for hiding it. In your opinion, it added to it, making the blue-eyed man appear even broader than he already was, as if he could envelop you simply with his frame, tucking you within the expanse of his shoulders. 

Despite how John managed to look so good in clothes produced for durability rather than fashion, it wasn't necessarily the clothes making you unable to rip your eyes off of him.

As always, your eyes drag over John's body until your gaze latches onto the embroiders littered over the sweater. 

On the upper part of his chest, in an easily read, nothing fancy, standard military font, the precise writing of Price is visible. The lettering, placed square in sight on his right pectoral, stands out in a lighter blue text rather than the dark navy composing the sweater. On the opposite side, in the same-letter style, SAS. Sewn onto the right arm of his jumper is a badge-like British flag, so his unit's emblem. Symbols stating his rank also adorn his clothing, marks that your civilian eye probably wouldn't be able to interpret if you didn't already know he was a Captain.

That is why you like seeing John in his work attire. 

The air around him changes. His typical calm stoicism tenfolds, acting as a reminder that his presence demands respect. 

It wasn't a shift that screamed for attention, not hollered as a command to notice. You believe it's because it simply blends with John's personality at home so well. Either his work-life had engrained it into his DNA, so it always was a part of him no matter where he went. Or those traits had always been his fortes, even before serving in the military. You didn't know for sure which was correct. 

Nonetheless, John's calm, secure and disciplined persona reached new heights. He looked like a man in charge. 

It was almost mortifying how affected you got when he dressed like this. And yet, it was just something about John in dark blue or army green attires, with his rank so underwhelmingly stated but so evidently sensed, that made a part of you quiver in excitement.

Yeah, that Captain John Price was a weakness of yours was clear as fucking day.

"You doing good over there, Captain?" Blue eyes shift from the papers he held over his lap to meet your gaze. 

You always revel in how swiftly his attention shifts to you when you use his rank. You didn't do it often. After all, at home, he wasn't Captain. But sometimes, even you used the alias. 

"Mm, all good, love". John's answer was slow, eyes flickering over you before nodding, his eyes falling to the paper before him again.

"The Captain fancying a cup of tea?" 

This time, John didn't move his head. He only glanced up, almost watching you through his eyebrows. "Wouldn't mind". The reply was short, his voice rough. Not grumpy, annoyed or anything like that. Simply profound.

You flash him a smile, pushing your computer aside and setting your glasses on the keyboard. As you stand from the couch, you stretch your legs. 

You catch John's eyes lowering and you bet he didn't abstain from trailing them down your bare legs as you jostle the tingles out of them. Smiling to yourself, you head into the kitchen.

Fine, sometimes you may use his rank solely for his reaction. 

You argue he shouldn't react like that. It's understandable he barely reacts to it when the boys of 141 use it just as much as his government name when addressing him. He must be used to it. So sure, surprise could be the reason in your instance. At the same time, it shouldn't, regarding it holds no value, no substance, when you use his rank.

Still, you've noticed it seemingly carries some weight.

The most common reaction you'd gathered was how swiftly you earned his attention. Nearly every time, you suppressed a grin at how it worked like clockwork. A sharp flicker of his eyes, gaze intense. You've also noticed how his head cock, eyes seemingly searching yours before they often slipped down your figure as he returned to whatever had his attention previously. And then it was how John eventually answered you. Sometimes, he cleared his throat before speaking, others not. Both choices provide a reply of comparable nature. Without exceptions, his voice was deep. 

John's smokey, baritone voice was always pleasant to listen to. There were no edges, even though he wasn't afraid to remain silent between his sentences. And when he filled those with the occasional hum, a purr threatened to spill from your lips to how the low cord melted like liquid gold into your ears. And yet, his voice usually became gruffer when he spoke as a Captain in a professional setting. 

You'd registered it when he once had taken a phone-call to book a time for a meeting with someone named Laswell or when he reprimanded one of the guys in a borderline-serious manner when you met them at a pub during one of their parallel leaves. The firmness in those deeply spoken sentences wasn't present when you dropped a 'Captain' while talking to him. 

But there was something else. Something under your skin just begging you to consider it's awfully close to a particular lustful drawl of John's. The one you regard as utterly and painfully arousing. If not for the truth, then for your lustful desires.

You lean against the counter as you wait for the water to boil, arms crossed over your chest. 

Facing the living room, you watch the only fascinating thing there. 

John just about placed the stack of papers he'd been reading back into its corresponding map, leaning forward to position it on top of the rest. Leaning back again, you notice how he sighs from the quick movement of his chest while opening the last lacklustre folder beside him. Leaving it open, John takes out the reports by gripping its stapled corner, swiftly picking up the reading again. As he does, he notches his thumb beneath his jaw, index finger swiping back and forth over his lower lip, brows pulling together. 

If not for the kettle signalling it's ready, you would've gotten stuck there, rooted in place as you take in the sight of the incredibly handsome man, your handsome man, so engrossed in his work. 

Preparing your respective beverages is easy. The task is something you've done countless times by now. So, within minutes, you're heading towards the seating arrangement with your respective mugs.

John notices your presence before his attention shifts to you, noticeable from how he pulls his stretched-out leg back towards him so you can step between his seat and the coffee table. Yet those blues flicker to you with an appreciative look right before you turn to settle his cup of tea on the tabletop. 

You set the mug down momentarily, reaching for a protective coaster. Placing the circular piece of wood close to the cup, you rearrange it to rest atop it instead. 

That could've been it. You could've just wandered back to your seat, either in an attempt to work or admire the view again. But no.

"There you go, Captain". You shift to face John with an innocent smile, gesturing to the cup from where steam curls upwards, filling the closest proximity of air with a spicy but soft scent of herbs. His hand has fallen from his jaw. Now, it rests on top of the folder at the armrest as he gazes at you, blues-eyes truly observing you. 

You don't know why the seemingly innocent eye contact makes you squirm. But from how John watches you, a feverish sensation rushes through your body, heating you from the inside under the scrutiny of his gaze.

The concoction of having John dressed like he is, watching you as he does and your lecherous imagination does wonders to lighten your belly on fire. You bite your lip, about to return to your seat, when John sits up, abruptly halting your attempt.

The swift thought of 'he's reaching for his mug' is wiped away immediately as he instead reaches for you. 

He circles the back of your neck with his big hand and tugs you down enough to meet him in a kiss. A soft, surprised noise vibrates against his lips, your eyes widening in reaction to his unexpected action, as opposed to his, which slips close.

"Such a darlin' to me, you know that?" John hums the word against your lips. And even if you like doing these small things for him because you see how much he enjoys them, your breath hitches, making John's eyes flutter open. 

When meeting your still wide-eyed expression, his lips bow upwards beneath his beard before his hand falls from your neck. This time, he reaches for the mug. 

As you straighten, your cup clutched against your stomach, John slouches backwards again.

"It's nothing", you reply to the man who looks too fucking indecent for still being fully dressed from the way his thighs fall outwards.

"It's everythin'", John insists. Your heart makes a dangerous leap as his baritone voice travels straight down. 

The way he's watching you doesn't help at fucking all as you feel a surging need to squeeze your legs together, something that would be embarrassingly noticeable from John's position. 

Rather than answering, mouth incredibly dry all of a sudden, you only return his appreciation with a small smile.

That his eyes follow you when you head back to your seat is apparent, your heart continuing its elevated rhythm with each step you take and his attention on your back. But when you sit down, facing him again, he's back to reading, the mug resting against his thigh.

Much like John, you should go back to work. But you don't need to look at your computer to know your last sliver of motivation has disappeared. Your attention undividedly on something else entirely.

You shuffle in your seat, one leg bent and resting on the cushioned seat beneath you, the other pulled close to your body with your foot planted on the couch. It makes you lean slightly to the side and the pillows you'd stacked for a makeshift edge towards the couch's middle.

Unable not to, your eyes flitter over John's form as you nurse your drink. 

His legs spread wide, trapping your gaze to glide over his crotch more than once, especially as he readjusts his position, hips doing that slight upwards jut as he makes himself more comfortable. You also follow his action of occasionally raising the mug to his mouth, his eyes never leaving the paper as he does. 

You watch as he sets down the documents on his leg to switch to the next side with the same hand, not desiring to go through the action of leaning forward, putting down the cup of tea, only to retrieve it to situate himself again.

Eyes remaining on the cup, you remark how John's big hand wraps around it, having no trouble encasing more than half of it. You compare it to how you hold your cup. One hand grabs the ear while your other hand curves along the opposing side.

When he raises the mug to his mouth, you follow the move, gaze lingering on his face even though he lowers it not soon after. 

You map the line of his beard, the purse of his lips, and how his eyes move from the left to the right as he follows the sentences on the paper.

And then, John's eyes flicker upwards, catching your blatant staring. Amusement flickers to life in those blues when you don't even try to play it off before he adverts his gaze down to the paper. 

"You're starin', love". John remarks. The cup of tea is brought to his lips as his attention remains on the document.

"Just enjoying the view", you shrug. Not untrue. 

John's brows arch. Not much later, as if wanting to finish a sentence, his head tilts upwards to look at you. "That so?"

"Mhm", you flash him a brief smile before you raise your mug to your lips, sipping its contents. His eyes narrow briefly. 

Even though you can't think of anything odd in your reaction, John apparently does. 

"Is there somethin' more?"

Your heart jumps. "No, you're free to continue working", you try deflecting John's attempt at making you explain what's on your mind. Apparently, you only succeeded in catching his attention more.

"I'm done". John states, making your brows jump and eyes flicker downwards, not having noticed he was on the last page of a considerably thinner stack of papers, unlike the previous ones. 

"Weren't you instructed to report back?" Your gaze shifts back to his face.

"Taken some notes. I'll send a mail later before goin' to bed". John replies promptly, meanwhile restoring the papers in their proper order. As he places the stack back in its map and drops it on top of the other finished ones on the table, he speaks. "Now I want to hear about what you're tip-toein' around 'cause it doesn't seem like nothin'". 

"No, really, it's nothing important". 

John cocks his head, brows raising in a silent inquiry.

You refuse to believe it's the 'men in uniform' curse amongst civilians. You know that's not the case, seeing how you don't find all soldiers good-looking just because, only John. Even so, you detest the thought of seeming disrespectful, fearing you reduced his career path to a mere point of attraction. It was one thing allowing it to fuel your imagination. But to admit it aloud? To John? Yeah, no.

You reach for the case of your glasses, popping it open with ease and inserting the specs. Placing them on top of your now closed laptop, you scoop them up and stand, about to discard the items in your bedroom.

The action was not impulsive. You always put your device on charge once John arrives. Today, it understandably changed to when he finished the reports he'd brought. Yet you didn't get that far, stopped unexpectedly by his voice.

"Sit". Your body stalls, brows raising. When you don't do as John says, his head cocks, fingers rapping against the armrest as he motions to the seat you just stood from with a nod. This time, you follow his request. "Talk to me, love. What's on your mind?"

Your fingers clutch your computer briefly before you reluctantly set it down on your coffee table. You sip your tea, searching for your words.

Upon your silence, stalling, an urging 'hm?' stems from John.

"I just, you know, think you look good today".

"Do I look any different today than otherwise?" He inquires. You don't think he means to interrogate you, but it feels just like that from how he watches you closely from his seat. It makes you squirm, raising your mug to your lips again before you answer.

"Well, you got those on".

John hums softly, a sound of acknowledgement. And, ever as keen, he figures out what your haphazard motions to his attire imply. "You like the clothes". It's more of a statement than a question, but you give him a nod anyway.

"They look good on you".

"That's what got you so worked up?"

"I'm not-"

"You are", he muses, cutting off your sentence as he leans forward, forearms resting on his knees as he places his mug on the coaster. "Those glasses you're religiously stubborn about using have been more off your face than not despite that laptop of yours being right in front of your face", he points out. 

Your brows pull together, lips parting as a protest isn't far away. But John beats you to it.

"No need denyin', I've noticed you starin' at me more than that screen of yours. Then we can't forge 'bout your teasin'".

This time, your brows genuinely furrow. "I haven't teased you?".

His head tilts to the side. "No? Could think I never left base with how much you've used my rank tonight, love". 

Oh, oh. John thinks your use of his rank is teasing. So it must mean something different when you use it. Not just in your imagination, then. Regardless of discovering this, you don't know how to react to John's admittance. You still feel like a mouse being toyed with by a cat.

He watches you expectantly as if waiting for you to speak up. Instead, your fingers only rap against your mug before raising it again.

You tip your cup, yet no liquid reaches your lips. Your eyes flicker downwards as you lower it, noticing its emptiness. 

The nervous sips you'd taken off your tea have apparently drained it quicker than you anticipated. 

Much like a mouse making a break for it each time the cat releases it, you don't hesitate to stand and head into the kitchen to discard your mug, seizing the chance to escape John's heavy gaze and probing for enough time you don't fumble for an answer.

What you don't expect is the footsteps following you into the kitchen. But you should've. The cat never lets its prey get too far away.

Naturally, you look over your shoulder.

John moves so assuredly. There's a slight sway to his hips, strides not hurried despite covering the same distance as you in a much more rapid fashion. Confidence, he oozes it from the very way he carries himself.

There's no denying that such a mass moving with such practised ease is on the verge of terrifying. But the thrill harbours an indisputable excitement, especially as your eyes briefly meet John's blue ones, calm but bright with intrigue.

You turn forward as you reach the kitchen counter, putting your mug in the sink, attempting to hide how he affects you. But believing you could hide from an elite soldier in plain sight is foolish. 

The hairs on your neck stand when John steps up behind you.

He sets his mug beside yours before his hands settle on the counter. With one hand at either side of you, his shoulders haunch to eclipse yours, making your heart thump in your chest.

"Indulge me. What about the clothes you like so much it got you behavin' like this?" 

"Uhm-". Your thoughts screech to a halt as you flail for something to say. Admitting just how much John in these clothes affects you brushes on mortifying. "The way it fits you, I guess", you settle on in the end.

"You guess?". John repeats close to your ear.

Pride and a certain level of amusement roll off of him in waves, seeping right through your back, worming itself to your front only to nestle in your chest. Rather than installing the same emotions in you, they fuel your desire and jittery nerves.

"Love?" He gently encourages you to detail your answer, causing you to bite your inner cheek, rolling the meat between your molars. You may be tentative to admit your inner thoughts. But, it's still John with his incredibly calm and soothing self that puts you at ease and finally makes you relent.

"They just make you feel stronger, more authoritative-"

"Authoritative?" If you would've faced John, his inquisitive look would've met you. And yet, you don't even need to, feeling it burn into the side of your head as his ducked head angles towards you. You see it out of your peripheral, how he gazes at you, but you persistently stare directly forward as you give him a slight nod.

You swallow, worrying that you overstepped as you tried explaining the indecent thoughts wrecking your brain without spewing their true nature as blatantly as they arise. 

Assuming that's the reason for John's momentary silence, he surprises you when he finally speaks.

"You know, love", he hums, airy and amused. Your eyes drop, following his hands as they trail up the stone counter until they settle on top of yours. His fingers worms in between your slender ones. "I have noticed how remarkably much you've been staring, how handsy you've been when I come home like this". 

Body lightening on fire, a warm rush sweeps through you, the sound of blood suddenly pounding noticeably in your ears as you duck your head. Had you? You hadn't even thought so.

"Nothing to fluster about".

"Well, I do", you bite back, but there's no venom to your words, only embarrassment that you hadn't hidden your desire well enough, even if it was to an elite soldier you'd lost to. The mouse would forever lose to the cat.

"Why?"

"Because it's wrong, John. Just because you fit too bloody good dressed like a Captain, it shouldn't turn me on this fucking much". Thank god you're not looking at him. You would've sunken through the floor.

"I remember you mentioned somethin' like that the night we met". 

"I said that you suit being a Captain, not that it turns me on". John's exhale borders on a groan and your brows knit together when you catch it.

"Remember you called me that as well". John brushes past the admittance in your sentence as if it's nothing. "Caught me off-guard the first time". He nudges your head from the side, hands tightening over yours. 

"Why?" You breathe, realising his voice has dropped into a husky depth. It only did that when his arousal stirred, which sparked your curiosity enough to repress your humiliation.

"Sounded so wrong from you, a civvie callin' me by rank. But I couldn't deny I liked it". John's face falls into your neck, placing a kiss beneath your ear as he drops a fraction of his weight against your back. Still, it's enough to cage you to the counter and feel his hardening cock against your rear. Your eyes widen. "And then you said it while I was stuffin' that cunt of yours. Bloody hell, I almost lost my head when you called me Captain all stunningly dishevelled beneath me". A surprised gasp rips from your throat at John's words curl along the shell of your ear while he shoves his growing erection against you.

"What are you saying?" Your chest heaves at the end of your sentence as John rubs himself against the plush swell of your ass from behind. 

"I'm tellin' you, despite how wrong it is, that I like when you call me Captain". He husks into your ear, using your wording from earlier. 

John steadily grinds against you, pressing you further into the counter's edge. Instinctually, you arch against him, but one of his hands swiftly grabs your hip, forcing you down. 

"Love, I wanna try somethin' out", he hums. "Tell me if it gets too much. Understood?" There's no hesitancy in John's voice, only an alluring reassurance and passion that pikes your interest.

"Yeah, alright". 

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, John, I understand". You whine, curiosity eating you from the inside, yet he only tsks at you.

"You know what to call me". You inhale sharply. Fuck, could he be talking about? He is. You swallow, mind reeling as you realise John's alluding to something you've only entertained as fantasy. And yet, his rank solely remains a heavy, dirty thought. "Come on, love, know you want to". 

You swallow, eyes wide and staring forward. John must sense your hesitancy as his hand rucks the shirt you're wearing upwards, baring your ass. Attempting to coax you, he shoves his bulge straight into your scantily covered pussy.

"I want you to say it, m'not goin' any further until you do. Both of us must want this". That does the trick. You wouldn't pass up on this chance.

"C-Captain".

"Whole sentence, love".

"I understand, Captain".

"Good girl". He praises you. "Now, you'll take what I give".

"Oh", you breathe out as a violent shiver runs down your spine and the muscles attaching to the back of your head quiver. 

John's not only igniting something so perfectly inside your body. He also flips a switch in your head with his commanding voice, precisely the one that made his authoritative nature as a Captain so attractive. 

"From your reaction, it seems you don't mind bein' ordered around". John breathes into your ear. "Is that correct?"

"Don't mind". 

The man behind you releases a hum as he tests your reply by nudging his foot against your right ankle. You can feel him smirk at how you react, widening your stance one foot at a time without any resistance. Even when John presses himself against your back and continues forward by bending over you until you're flat against the kitchen counter, you don't resist him.  

"So pliant, aren't you?" One of his hands releases yours, yet you continue pressing it against the stone. His fingers trail up your now bent arm, over your shoulder and along the curve of your body until his fingers curl around your waist.

You nod swiftly, only catching the faintest reflection of the movement even though your cheek rests against the polished stone surface. He chuckles at your hasty reply, the sound cracking up the length of your spine.

"Mhm, stay like that now". John instructs, standing straight with a squeeze to your hand that, up until now, remained intertwined with his.  

His fingers run along your clothed spine until it reaches your bared lower vertebral, then your ass until it dips between your legs from behind, pressing into the seam of your underwear.

"Fuckin' hell, you've gotten this wet already? So desperate for your Captain, eh?" You whimper as he pushes against the damp fabric, the material pressing into your folds. 

"Yes, John-Captain!" You correct yourself as he slaps your pussy upon the slip-up. The tap of his palm doesn't hurt but acts as a reminder. Nevertheless, it sends a jolt of pleasure up your spine, making you squirm.

"Two rules, love", he remarks. "One, for now, it's Captain. Two, if you don't keep still, I'll stop touchin' you, leavin' you all pent up, just like this, right here", he makes clear. As if daring you to obey, a gentle test calculating how much you really want this, his thumb shallowly probes against your core. Your eyes snap shut, teeth digging into your bottom lip, a forced exhale escaping your lungs as you concentrate on not rocking backwards while fabricating a reply.

"Y-yes, Captain".

As if content with your words and actions, John steps away. Despite the loss of contact, you remain in your position. 

Your pulse thrums as you listen to John, picking up on the shift of clothes and the sound of a zipper. Your anticipation skyrockets as he doesn't hurry his movements, taking his sweet time before he touches you again. When he does, he pulls down your panties until the elastic band digs into the middle of your thighs.

A shuddering breath escapes your lungs when nothing separates John's fingers from your exposed wetness. He runs two fingers up and down almost leisurely until one digit firmly pushes against your clit in a circular sweep. The sudden attention to your throbbing bundle of nerves sends neurons flying.

You don't even know on what scientific level it's possible to stop an involuntary reaction, but just as you feel your lower back muscles tightening, you slam the flatness of your palm against the counter with a 'shit' as you try.

You wouldn't count it as moving, but you did twitch upon the surprising pressure against your clit. And as John pulls away, placing his hand on the small of your back, you whine in defeat, knowing he caught it too.

"What was that?". 

"Nothing, nothing, please, Captain, I'll be good". You don't even realise what you say yourself as you plead with John. He couldn't leave you there. You would possibly explode.

He only tuts, hand pressing firmer against your spine. Your heart drops for a second until he speaks. "I'll let you of this once".

"Thank you". John groans behind you, curse breathed beneath his breath as his character breaks for a moment, caught off guard by your rushed response. It's not long, but it's a reminder that it's still John behind you.

A swift pressure change against your spine indicates he's gathered himself again before he picks up where he left off.

His finger starts trailing up and down your folds again, but you remain in your position in spite of how your legs quiver in want, a desire for more. 

Your wet, sopping, John's digit coated swiftly in your slick as he teases you.

He toys back and forth before his finger slips down. This time you've already braced yourself when he circles your clit. You force yourself to hold still as you whine at the contact, wanting nothing more than to rock backwards.

Noticing your struggle and stubbornness, John's free hand grabs your hip, kneading the flash with gentle squeezes. "Mhm, just like that, love, doin' so good for me".

His baritone rolls over your back, making you shudder, skin knotting with goosebumps. He never once stops the slow movement of his finger, causing you to clench around nothing continuously, especially as he starts flicking the tip of his finger.

You press your forehead against the counter upon the small, sharp jolts of electricity firing pleasure through your nervous system. But it's so fleeting it doesn't have an opportunity to build into anything damning as John pulls away from your clit, falling back to running his digit along your folds.

John stays clear from your throbbing bundle of nerves, rotating his hand as he teasingly concentrates more and more attention on your entrance. You release an anticipated breath as he brushes over it repeatedly until you bite your lip. You want to tilt your hips to make him slip inside. But you withhold the urge, thankfully reaping the rewards before you get desperate enough that your body acts on instinct.

John puts the slightest pressure behind the dragging motion. At first, only the tip of his finger enters you before he pulls it back, doing the same thing a few times until he pushes its entirety inside. 

You moan even though it's not nearly enough to stretch you so deliciously you feel full. But it just feels good having something sliding in and out of you. Though one soon turns to two when John pulls out, a second finger prodding your pussy before both slip inside.

Squelching noises fill the air as he fingers you, his other digits pressing against your ass. You pant, unable to keep your noises at bay as he finally relents somewhat in his fleeting touches and indulges you with some relief. But it's not nearly enough. 

The pace remains slow, his fingers imitating a stroking motion even inside you rather than plunging deep and fast or wriggling forcefully to spur an orgasm. Now, you only feel your high building oh so slowly that it's frustrating how flat the exponential curve is.

And yet, as if projected from your body, you can see the scene you're a part of and find it unbelievably arousing. 

John, with his cock freed from his pants and occasionally brushing against your rear, otherwise fully clothed, almost lazily pumping his fingers in and out of your hole as you bend over the counter, panties around your legs, doing your damnedest to keep fucking still.

You moan at the image, hands pressing flat against the counter before curling into fists. It's so fucking erotic that you feel John's fingers suddenly sliding more easily in and out despite the way you clench around them.

"You're practically drippin', love", he teases you, fingers leaving your entrance for a few seconds, not hovering far from your pussy, until they return with a press against your clit, a new chillier slickness coating them. The acknowledgement that you're wet enough it nearly dribbles from you wears your patience to the breaking point.

"Captain, I can't take it, fuck me already". John doesn't reprimand you for your demand, only chuckles as he steps close, cock pressing against your asscheek. 

His fingers have dropped from your clit, but his touch is soon replaced with the head of his cock as he guides it to your folds, running it up and down to coat himself in your slick. 

You let out a shuddering moan as John pushes slightly against your entrance, tip breaching your hole, only to slip out and repeat the movement. Regardless that he's in charge, your frustrated cry is all it takes for him to push into you properly with an amused huff that sharply pivots into a grunt.

"Yeah, just like that- arch for me… good girl…". John groans, and you take his urge to meet his thrust that you're finally free to move as you wish. 

You gape as he bottoms out in one slow press, hips pressed flush against your ass. You feel his legs tremble, his hands flexing on your hips, but he stays still for your sake of accustoming to his girth.

"So good for your Captain". You whimper at his words, making him chuckle breathily. "Oh, you like that, eh?" He feigns ignorance of what he'd learnt: that you absolutely do. He grabs a fistful of your ass. "Dirty girl…". You gasp as he spanks your rear, the smacking sound making you clench around him.

"Need you to move". You whine as you wriggle your hips. But John bends over you, burly frame forcing your upper body flush to the cool tabletop.

"Come on, love". He scolds huskily against the shell of your ear, warm breath cascading past your cheek. Parts of his hands grip your ass while the rest cover your hips, the meat spilling between his fingers. But he remains still, deep inside you, not moving until the proper phrase falls from your lips. 

It's easier to give in this time, having been shoved over the edge previously, ignoring the immorality of using his rank in this setting and whatever pride left in your body. Mentally, at least. 

Physically, it takes you a few seconds, preoccupied with basking in what's happening. Bent over the counter with the biting kiss from the cold stone dulled from the shirt you borrowed from John. Yet the harshness from the unmoving material doesn't fail to make itself reminded against your soft body despite the shielding material. Effortlessly sandwiching you is the similarly firm body of John, considerably warmer but still effective in immobilising you.

"Captain, please". His rank is honey, saccharine and dripping effortlessly from your tongue once you find your voice through the arousal. "Please move".

"Mm, that's it", he croons, granting you the movement you want as he straightens, not before kissing your clothed shoulder. Exegrated to make up for the fabric separating you.

It starts with calculated thrusts that make you keen and almost roll back and forth on your feet from the steady and slow pace. Then John picks up the speed, rutting against you with powerful snaps of his hips. Your fingers scramble, finding purchase on the counter's edge, curling over the side to have some semblance of grounding force.

It doesn't take long before you moan unabashedly at each stroke, fluttering around his cock as he works his length in and out of you, driving his hips forward and back in a steady beat. Along the erotic sound of skin slapping and wet noises is the filth spewing from his lips.

"This what you wanted, eh?" He gruffs. "With all those looks?" He gets a moan in response as you turn your head so your cheeks rest against the counter, watching him through the corner of your eye. 

John's jaw hangs slack, hair falling along his forehead as he must be staring at where the two of you connect. He looks raptured, almost dazed. He said he wanted this as well and by the looks of it... yeah, he really did. You don't know how you haven't noticed. But, fortunately, John sets your knack of reading people to shame compared to his skill. 

You're snapped out of your thoughts as one of his hands leaves your hips and you see him raise it at an angle. You whine, arching towards it as much as possible with the unbudging surface beneath you. It drags his eyes upwards, noticing how you're watching him. 

His lips tug upwards, eyes never leaving you as his palm swats your ass. A reactionary moan spills from your lip as your legs press against the outer side of his thighs at the sensation, brows knitting together from the stinging pleasure.

It spurs John to rut harder, causing your body to fucking sing as your head gets steadily dizzier.

He releases a breathless chuckle at your inability to conjure anything apart from keening sounds and guttural moans as your body goes lax, eyes fluttering close, body jolting at the new pace he sets.

But he doesn't appear much more put together as he witnesses how you allow yourself to let go, giving the reins entirely to him. 

You catch how John's sentence breaks into fractions, groans and heady sounds spilling from his lips between sentences to rile you up even further. In the end he can't release much more than growling sounds as he folds, resting his chest against your back, using his weight to forcefully push his hips against yours, making his balls tap against your clit each time.

John barely pulls himself back enough to push forwards again, but it's enough to repeatedly batter the head of his cock against the spot making your legs tingly and toes flex before curling. 

Once again, your hands search for something to grasp upon the pleasure coursing through your body. One manages to bend backwards over your shoulder, catching the lapel of John's jumper, and the other slides feebly across the smooth countertop. 

Your orgasm is building, breaths turning stunted, muscles seizing.

You feel John's rhythm stutter as you clench more frequently and reactionary in response to his ruts as you near your release. His head ducks to rest between your shoulder-blades, warm puffs of air seeping through the oversized shirt you're wearing. His teeth bite down on the excess fabric, grunts vibrating against you. 

John's getting close, throbbing violently inside you, hands digging into your hips even further. When he angles his thrusts downwards, a dirty grind at the end of each penetration, he hits so many pleasurable spots that you release an unprompted cry.

You don't need much, so close to your edge that your head thrash that you wedge your hand beneath your forehead to not knock yourself out cold. So when John grits a heady sentence through his teeth and the fabric trapped between them, that's it. 

"Come on, love, be a good girl to your Captain. Wanna feel you squeeze 'round me".

Your eyes snap close as you jerk against him, ass pressing upwards before involuntarily trying to escape his persistent thrusts as the pleasure explodes. But your hipbones are already aching from the counter and you can't flee how John continues to cram his girthy cock into your twitching hole, so you just let him extend your orgasm until he reaches his with a growl. 

John curls around you, hips pressing snuggly against your rear as he spurts his release deep. You feel his warm spend inside you, releasing a shattered moan as your eyelids flutter but, in the end, remain closed.

The stone isn't as cold against your forehead anymore, the surface likely warming from your panting exhales.

John's chest rises and falls against your back. He massages your hips almost unconsciously, small flexes of his fingers. Your hand, previously fisting his jumper, falls to your left hip, squeezing his wrist before your fingers graze over his knuckles and card between digits, easing his grip. It seems to bring him out of his post-orgasmic rouse as he softens the action until he stills completely, now cradling the likely-to-be-discoloured area.

"Fuck", he exhales as he releases your shirt from his teeth. The wet spot where his saliva has sept into the fabric is significant as it falls back against your skin. 

You reply with a soft confirming sound, craning your neck to glance at John. 

His face has risen and is now close to yours. However, what catches you off-guard isn't the proximity but his gaze. It's dark and glittering, a spent smile noticeable through his facial hair.

He kisses you despite the awkward angle. The hair that's

fallen out of place and endearingly covers his forehead brushes yours. 

The interaction is brief before he rises, bringing you with him from the forwards-bent position that's not as comfortable for either of you when the lust-driven haze fades. In the movement, John slips out of you before stepping back. Not soon after, he pulls your underwear into place. 

The hem of his shirt drops around your thighs once you stand again and it doesn't catch on John's hand. You run a hand through your hair, letting it fall to the kitchen counters, noticing your balance is still wobbly. Your other hand assist your balance by resting on the kitchen counter as you take a moment to collect yourself. 

You take a moment to collect yourself before you turn to face John with a sigh. He's just popped the button on his cargos back in place but doesn't care about tucking his t-shirt into the waistband of his pants again.

As John runs a hand through his hair, the other naturally falls to your hip to steady you as his gaze locks with yours.

"All good?" His voice is gritty, pleasure still intertwined with the soft check-in.

"Mm, yeah", you smile sluggishly, your voice breathy. "You?" 

"All good. I wasn't too much?" There's a glimmer of concern in his eyes, one you shoo away immediately.

"No, god, you were not too much, John, you were... really good". You reach out to touch John, hands slipping between the layers of fabric on his torso. He melts under your touch, relaxing the arm that had raised so he could tame his hair, letting it curve around your neck. With the back of your head nestled perfectly in the crook of his arm, he tugs you closer to him.

"Didn't know you had such a thing for men in uniform, love". He chuckles, lightening the mood as he looks down at you. 

"You in uniform". 

"Compliments your take on a gallantry medal?" 

"Mhm", you hum against his lips. "My Captain deserves them". You cheekily use the nickname you'd moaned shamelessly only minutes prior, making him huff an amused laugh that puffs against your mouth.

"Not gonna hear the end of that, eh?"

"At ease, soldier, I'm only gonna use it when I wanna get a rile out of you". You press a kiss against John's lips and he reciprocates it. In the end, a smile splits yours open, one you greet him with as you lean away, creating a bit of space between you. "But what would they think of that? Esteemed Captain Price with a captain kink". He pinches your rear, and you squeal, a sound that fades into a giggle as the hand previously on the counter settles on your hip. 

"Watch it". The edges of John's eyes are still creased in the corners as he says it, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Just curious", you defend yourself with a shrug. "But I can't say I'm surprised you like the power-trip". You give the blue-eyed man a playful purse of your lips. 

He cock his head, brows arching. "Why?"

"Being a good Captain must come from somewhere. You like ordering people around", you muse.

"Delighted to be your entertainment". John exhales through his nose.

You try to lean up to kiss his furrowed expression away, but by tightening his arm around your head and leaning backwards, he avoids your attempt.

"Don't be pouty. You seemed to enjoy it just as much as I did. Admitted you do". You chide John lightly and he drops the faux offence, delight and piked interest present in his eyes.

"Mm, 'bout that. Didn't know you liked bein' ordered around that much". You smile shyly, head notching forwards, not far from resting against his chest from your closeness.

"We all have our moments of something, don't we?" You look up at John through your lashes. 

His arms slide down until his hand envelops your neck. A hum fills the air before he leans down, pressing his lips against yours briefly, soothing any possible apprehension in your answer framed as a question rather than a statement.

"Would you like me to do it more?" You crack into a smile at his question, eyes fluttering open to meet his blue eyes.

"Yeah, I would like to. I-I adore when you're sweet on me, John, but I also like when you're rough. Just, you know, take what you want sometimes, do as you please". You shrug, catching how John releases the air from his lungs in something akin to wonder and desire.

"You trust me enough?"

"If your men trust you on the field, I think I can trust you in this situation". 

John lets out a long groan, head tipping backwards as his eyes shut tightly. "Don't bring the lads into this, don't want that association".

You chuckle in earnest. "What? You're their Captain first and foremost".

"Not this type", he huffs, head falling forward. Looking at you again, the hand on the side of your neck slides to your hip, both hands now anchored there.

"Alright, alright. Only want you to myself anyways". You lean up, planting a series of kisses against John's lips until he reciprocates, the frown disappearing from his brows.

"Already got me, love". His voice softens, making you smile in return. 

Just as you're about to reply, the sensation of fluids flowing out of you makes you reactively twitch and clamp your legs together, hands flexing on his stomach. John notices, suppressing a smirk as he fishes your hands from beneath his jumper.

"Let's get you cleaned up." John enlaces his hand with one of yours, tugging you along as he heads towards your bathroom. "Still need to have that shower".

"You like seeing me wet, don't you?"

"Never said we would shower". John sends you a humoured look over his shoulder, making you roll your eyes. "Watch that attitude of yours. Things like that get you a lesson in discipline in the army". 

"Because that would be my biggest problem and not sleeping with a Captain, who I much rather get disciplined by." You quip with an amused look.

"Careful with what you wish for, love". John returns, the reply accompanied by a wink. As you chuckle with a shake of your head, John pulls you forward and into his side, planting a kiss on the side of your head, effectively ending the conversation as you step into the bathroom.

[miguel-ohara-lover]

Hello I’d like to request something :3 what if miguel was a maifa boss and he was both Spider-Man and the worlds deadliest maifa boss and he teased reader as spider man, like when he saves her.

“You should really be careful. Wouldn’t want a monster swallowing you up now~” and one day she’s in danger from a tentacle monster (or something) and his identity is shown and the two go home after the monster is defeated and just have the most steamiest of S E X-

OmggGGGGG- yes yes yes

Miguel x F!Reader - Savior

CW: NSFW, mafia, s e x w/ plot

Word count: 1,435

The infamous Spider-Man had saved you many times now. Honestly, with how much you needed rescuing it seemed like you were just asking for trouble. You never got close enough to learn anything… personal. He’d swoop in, save you, carry you off to a safe spot or even your apartment, and that was that. Despite not knowing him personally, you started developing feelings for the masked hero.

Every time he saved you, you became distracted by him. How tall he was, the way his tight suit defined every curve and muscle of his body. That sexy voice that made you wet every time he spoke. His entire being turned you on. Your body had very inconvenient timing. You couldn’t believe you were more focused on swooning over him than your life being in danger. Maybe your body just knew you were safe in his presence, and all worries washed away.

Today was no different. After so many encounters with villains and criminals, they started to not scare you, you knew he’d rescue you. So when a giant slimy tentacle monster grabs hold of you, the usual sense of fear didn’t overwhelm you it like so often did. You did scream at first, as the monster coiled it’s long tendril around your ankle and houses you up in the air. Blood flowed to your head quickly and you squirmed. Of course this happens the day you wore a skirt.

Just like clockwork, you saw the familiar neon red webs go flying by as Spider-Man swung in. And like every single time you grew so wet at the sight of him, your mind completely forgetting about the danger you are in.

“You should really be careful. Wouldn’t want a monster swallowing you up now~” Spider-Man teased as he tied the beast up with his webs. He did take notice of your skirt, exposed panties so wet. He’s so distracted he doesn’t notice the monster swinging a tentacle at him, slamming him against a building.

His suit glitched, and you could see his face for a brief moment. Your eyes widen in shock when you immediately recognize him. Miguel O’Hara. The mafia boss that practically ruled the country with his power. He was Spider-Man? He was the one saving everyone? The one that made you feel so incredibly horny every time you saw that blue and red suit.

He quickly got his suit fixed before getting back in the fight, easily defeating this monster. The tendril let go of you and you fell to the ground with a yelp. He caught you in those muscular arms and your heart skipped a beat. Spider-Man, well... Miguel, brought you to the rooftop of a tall building and set you down to make sure you're not injured.

“So...” You started, “You're Miguel O'Hara, huh?” That was a very bold starter sentence, even for you. His head snapped in your direction, the eyes of his mask squinting as he looked at you.

“Who told you that?” He growled.

You suddenly realize what the fuck you just did and you back up against the railing. “Well your suit glitched and I saw your face and-” You cut yourself off when you heard him chuckle. He was laughing at you?

“I figured you'd find out eventually, Carino. With how wet you are I just knew you'd learn sooner or later.” A deep blush spread across your cheeks as you realized he had seen your panties, soaked with your slick just from watching him as he saved you. You subconsciously closed your legs, and he definitely noticed.

Without saying another word he scooped you up again and took you to your apartment. You knew where this was going, and the thought just soaked your panties even more as you clung to him. He entered your apartment through the window and his mask dissolved so you could see his face clearly. He truly did look intimidating face to face, but you didn’t feel any fear.

Miguel looked around your apartment before looking back at you. He smirked before pushing you against the wall, and you pulled him into a deep kiss, feeling a bit impatient now. You didn’t know what came over you, you didn’t understand why you had this deep need to get fucked by him.

His hands are all over you as the two of you make out, your hands on his big shoulders. You felt the rest of his suit dissolve and his bare skin on your hands, letting out a small gasp when his hard cock sprung free against your clothed pussy. He shivered a little feeling the wet fabric on his dick.

You were lifted with ease, your legs wrapping around him as he pinned you to the wall. With a free hand he ripped your panties off using his talons. He rubbed his cock between your wet folds, getting it all slick and lubed up. You let out another gasp when you saw the size, now you were scared. How could that fucking fit? He was huge!

As he rubbed against you, the tip kept teasing your needy hole and covering your pussy with precum. You pulled him closer with your legs and he grunted when he felt the tip almost enter you.

“Cálmate…” He groaned into your ear before dipping his head to kiss your neck, nipping and leaving hickeys. His actions as well as the feeling of the cock tease your clit made you moan. You whine and try to pull him against you more. He gives in this time, pressing the tip into your hole slowly.

You moan as he enters you, feeling your pussy stretch so tight around him. He goes slow at first, pushing in inch by inch until he’s completely buried in you. His hands grab and grope as your body, your hips, your tits, your ass, he wants to feel all of you. He groaned when he couldn’t and started ripping the rest of your clothes off so he can see your skin against his.

His hands settled on your hips as he started rocking his slowly, moving his length in and out. It was agonizing. You needed more. To feel more. Your hands found their way to his waist and you tried to make him pick up his speed. He let out a chuckle, and suddenly your hands were tied with red webs, suspended to the ceiling. Now you were truly at his mercy.

You moaned as his pace quickened, your pussy clenching around his girth as he fucked you into the wall. Your mind went fuzzy, all thoughts consumed by Miguel and how fucking amazing he felt inside you. Your head fell against his shoulder as more beautiful moans escaped your lips. He whispered praises in your ear, telling you how good you felt on him and how amazing you sounded.

As you clenched around him more he groaned. He had been pent up all day, and everything about you was just pulling him to the edge. He did not want to release first, and he started thrusting faster in hopes to make you cum first, to give you a mind blowing orgasm. You moan against his shoulder as the tip of his cock hit that special spot.

His hand traveled down, and he started to play with your clit. You squirm and cry as he rubs circles around your bud, feeling that familiar tightness in your stomach.

“Shit I… fuck I’m close…” You moaned and he nodded in response, speeding up with hand to match the pace of his cock. A few more thrusts and you were undone, letting out a loud cry as you came all over his dick, tightening around him over and over. He grunted and hilted in you as he released as well, filling you up with his cum.

He rocked his hips slowly as you both rode out your orgasms, placing kisses to your neck and shoulders. Once you both calmed down you whined as the overstimulation as he continued his slow thrusts. He finally pulled out and you sighed in relief, your clit twitching from so my stimulation.

“Does this make me your hot trophy wife?” You joked as you panted, earning a grin from him. “You know ‘cause of the mafia thing. We could make this a regular thing~” You chuckled.

“I guess it would keep you out of trouble. So we’ll see, depends how much you can take.” He smirked, and your eyes widened when he moved you to the couch, cock already hardening again as he positioned you for round two…