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lunarw0rks · 1 year ago

Note

farmer!price & sweet little girl next door!reader (yes i’m thinking about this pairing in the most perverted way possible)

a/n: here it is. the long-awaited neighbor!price fic <3 Hopefully, you all enjoy these Price crumbs. anon is onto something ;) & thx for the dog name ideas! ⊹。°˖➴ ao3 ver. // word count: 6.9k

// warning(s); nsfw (18+), implied age gap [r is mid-twenties, price is early/mid-forties], dadbod!price agenda, oral (r.), p/v unsafe sex, fem!reader

Price is living out his recluse dreams. Retired and secluded, finally! It was more than he’d wished for, honestly. He always desired a patch of land far from town, leaving out scraps for the critters, finding the simple pleasures.

But here he was, with a small, self-sufficient farm, growing enough to feed himself. It was a quiet, rewarding lifestyle. Entirely the opposite of his years in the service. Right now, he found himself conquering his lost list of mundane tasks. Watering his herbs, then sorting the junk that accumulated in his storage shed.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

After a grueling afternoon of unpacking, you needed to unwind. Right now, you found yourself lounging on your deck, head tilted back as you shielded your eyes from the summer sun. As if moving and assembling furniture wasn't exhausting enough — now you had the sweltering star beating down on you.

Abruptly, you feel something soft brush against your legs. Before you can open your eyes, there's a hefty weight plunged atop your lap. Your eyes snap open, greeted with the hot breath of a smiling golden retriever.

You caress the blonde fur, receiving several licks along your hand. "Zeus! down, boy!" A husky voice shouts, followed by the face to match it. The eager, not-so-small ball of fluff hops off your lap, prancing toward the man walking around the side of your house.

A charcoal gray t-shirt hugging his buff but girthy body. A man who's been in shape for years — arms bulging and tanned from hours of working outside, all whilst his older years have caught up to him a bit on his stomach, which stuck out with just a bit of fat cushion.

"My apologies, he knows better." He rubbed his head and flashed an apologetic look, exposing the faint abs you'd already imagined on him at first glance. Price's eyes wandered you from top to bottom, nearly forgetting to unfurrow his brow.

What a sight for sore eyes, you were.

You peer down at your lap, now stained with dirt in the shape of paws — on your thighs and the shorts you're wearing. "Oh, not a big deal! he gave me quite a scare, but it was a pleasant surprise." You look over at Zeus, his tail thwacking against his owner's leg.

For a few moments, all he did was leer, before he snapped himself out of it. "John," he steps forward as if going to shake hands but retracts hastily.

"—'m all covered in dirt, wouldn't want to get you dirtier than Zeus already has, hm?" He chuckles when he finishes his rhetorical, smearing the dirt onto his denim pants.

You shake your head and chuckle gently, “no room for pleasantries in the countryside, is there?” You case his appearance again, eyes skimming his muscles.

John flashes a polite smile, muttering a reply before hooking a finger around the Golden’s red collar. “Be seeing you.” He effectively leads the sparky dog out of your yard, preventing both any more surprise attacks and more ogling on his part.

Not only was getting a new neighbor a surprise, but her being so damn tempting — an entirely different genre of awe.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Yesterday wasn’t your smoothest first impression. looking rugged and sweaty from unpacking, ending up covered in dirt and in awkward conversation. You wanted a second chance. He was going to be your neighbor after all — and it wasn’t like there were many others. John was the only one within reasonable walking distance, it seemed.

Now, wearing a sundress as opposed to sweat-caked shorts and a tee — you were more confident in your odds of at least being civil with your neighbor. At the very least, a man who would roll up your trash bins before a storm. Perhaps even supply a spare cup of sugar if you were being optimistic.

You trudge down the dirt road, careful not to roll your ankle on the unpredictable mounds of earth. For a few moments, you’re convinced you’ve gone the wrong way. It’s either dense forest, patches of crop, or more road ahead of you.

Lord knows you were exhausted yesterday, maybe the handsome neighbor was just a figment in your fried mind. A foolish thought — but one that worsened the longer you walked.

The tray in your hands; a few oatmeal dog biscuits and some cookies made from the recipe on the chocolate chip bag. It was better than coming empty-handed, wasn’t it? That would just be distasteful judgment.

With eyes glued ahead, you nearly let the handles of the platter slip when you finally spotted the lights in the distance. Golden-tinted and countless, illuminating the updated cabin. In the yard, lay a few scattered chewed ropes and muddy tennis balls. You could safely assume you made it to the suave man’s residence.

You knock on the oak door, seeing the hues of a television flickering through some of the bent blinds. After a few seconds of mumbling, the door swung open.

Price answered with a beer in one of his fists, instantly straightening his posture when he laid eyes on you. The sundress; cherry red with splotches of tiny florals. Dusk sunbeams highlighted your bone structure seamlessly — casting an ethereal glow on your captivating flesh.

Today, instead of gray, his shirt is army green and just as snug of a fit. You can't help but prolong your stare when he leans against the doorway, his bicep bulging even when he stands with nonchalance. He's even more of a knockout when not covered in dirt; though you suppose the same could be applied to you.

"This is a surprise." He glances at the tray in your hands, then at the polite smile on your face as you flash it in his direction.

With a beam, you extend the platter out and wait for him to take it. "I wasn't sure when to come. I hope I'm not intruding." You speak softly, catching a glimpse of his tidy living space.

“No such thing as intrusion around here, eh? ‘m practically searching for chores these days. A little conversation won’t bother me any.” Price chuckles a bit, flicking his head as an invitation for you to join him.

You step inside behind him, engulfed by the scent of tobacco and cedarwood. The cabin's interior walls have been stained with a warm tint, stretching throughout what bits of the space you can spot. Immediately through the front door is his kitchen, likely the most modernized of the rooms.

Distressed, truffle-colored counters in an L shape; altogether enough space for a man living alone. Yet, the countertops are anything but cluttered — nearly spotless, in fact. He slides the tray across the counter, finally unveiling the homemade treats for both human and man's best friend.

"Figured chocolate chip would be simple enough, right?" You speak up, watching him examine one of them. For a few moments, he's lost in thought again, not taking a bite.

You furrow your brows, "please don't tell me I baked the one dessert you don't like."

Instantaneously, a grin smears on his face, then a rumbly snicker. "Nothing like that," he bites the cookie in half and savors its sweetness, "—just not used to having neighbors this deep in the woods, you're my first. And she can bake too, huh? Aren't I lucky?" He teases a bit at the end, rinsing off some chocolate residue from his scarred fingertips.

Well, it was only the recipe on the back of a bag, so you surely hope it would taste decent. You decide it best to leave that out, merely twirling your thumbs as he shuffles around the space.

Finally, he walks back around the counter and holds out the same beer he sipped when he answered the door. Your reluctant fist wrapped around the brown bottle's glass neck, following him as he led you to the porch.

“Weren’t you watching something?” You question, sitting yourself beside him on the cement steps. Zeus’ collar jingle sounded once the back door closed, the sound a signal for him to join his owner out back.

John shook his head, taking another sip of the brew as his achy muscles relaxed again. “You’re doing me a favor; I could cut back on my screen time.” He reached out his free hand and gently patted the dog’s head, giving his fur a few strokes.

“Cut back? By the looks of your land, you’re outside all day.” You retort with a playful scoff, feeling the nuzzle of a wet nose along your leg. Without shame, you glance at his hands, observing their size and condition. “The callouses don’t lie.”

You piqued his interest at the mention of his hands, and he'd noticed just how long you were staring at them. "Suppose you're right, love." On purpose, he caressed the neck of the bottle with his thumb. He takes another hefty sip, which prompts you to take your first.

You didn't have the heart to tell him before how much you disliked the taste. The tangy beer coated your mouth and throat, seemingly sliding down at an agonizing pace just to prolong the torment. Still, the scrunch of your face spilled enough of the fib.

"Faces don't lie, either." Price mocked, taking the barely touched bottle from your grip. His words held double meaning — one harmless and one sinful — though that truth was unbeknownst to both of you.

In a matter of seconds, you'd been caught in a petty lie. You wipe away the bit that dripped between your lips. "Guess you caught me," you chortle, "I don't like beer much."

"Much? Don't be so modest." He screws the top back on and sets it on the wooden deck beside him. "You hate it, don't you?"

The way he spoke had you in some sort of trance. Perhaps it was his age, perhaps it was his obvious past of influence. It was... like being interrogated. Not in the pathetic way an inexperienced civilian would mock his way through, either. The agitation of being put on the spot — feeling as though you'd done something illegal the second you approach airport security.

That is what this felt like; only the words came tender and sportive.

“Alright, I hate it.” You affirm, unable to wipe the simper off your face. “We’ve officially made it through our first lie. That’s a milestone, right? Saves us the sting later.” Unintentionally, you haven’t broken your stare — even when he did to gaze at the sunset in front of him.

Later? Would this company become a routine? How wrong was it for him to hope it would?

Eventually, he nods and turns to face you again, shamelessly taking you in like it was the first time. “Ah, you’re like me. Ten steps ahead, got everything planned out already.” He questions, squinting slightly from the bright dusk, which was actively being snuffed by storm clouds. "Besides, I could tell your lie from miles away. The way you fumbled that bottle."

You waved a flustered hand of dismissal. "Yeah, yeah. Point taken. I'll remember that next time."

John cocked a brow, "next time, eh? With no more fibbing?" He asked you jovially, once again putting you under his spotlight.

But this time you knew how to handle it. Besides, you had learned his ways of meaningless banter — despite only spending several minutes with the man. "Next time I'll make sure it's not so obvious, and you'll be none the wiser."

"It was more than how I held the bottle," you added accusingly. "You don't just afford a place like this with retirement savings. Not without sacrifices."

He was more than someone who once had a mundane, meaningless job. You could tell it from 'miles away' he was a man who had stories to tell. More than his scarred body already did, that was. A fierce career, a position of power — something cutthroat, literally.

Of course, you had no intention of prying. Screwing this relationship up prematurely would be a grave mistake.

Fortunately, he remained untouched by your suspicions; they intrigued him. And John, he knew you weren't wrong about him, either. He was one of the few souls who could confidently declare he'd seen it all — or the closest thing to it.

"Sacrifices... is a way to put it," his lips curled into a polite smile. Finally, he stopped staring holes into you and caught a whiff of musky petrichor in the air. "C'mon, we're due for rain. Get you inside before the mosquitos feast on us."

The same lips pursed, letting out a sharp whistle to recall Zeus. He transformed from a blond dot in the distance into a prancing canine at the speed of light, slowing to a prance when he laid eyes on his owner.

With one hand, he held both bottlenecks between his thick fingers, then opened the back door with the other. Zeus nudged your legs and walked through them, determined to get inside first. The sight made you snicker as you walked inside, hearing the soft creak of the door behind you.

His work boots thudded against the wooden floor as he took them off, setting them neatly beside the door. Yet another unusual trait for men his age living alone, at least in your experience. No clutter in sight, and no grime residue from his tireless yard work.

Now, his steps are a glide instead of thuds when he walks around the breakfast bar. You turned to face him, watching as he ignited a burner for the kettle. "Do you fancy drinking something you'll actually enjoy? Tea?"

You lean against the island, unintentionally allowing a bit of the dress neckline to droop.

“Tea will work.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

In front of you were the only signs of his old self. Metals and ribbons encased behind a glass frame, hung up in the hall as a quaint display of his achievements. Below them, on the hall table, decorative mason jars; most with faux leaves and vines. You made your way up and down, admiring how the rustic, shipshape decor was placed with such intention.

As your gaze panned left to right, you made it to the end of the display. Interest arose when you examined the last jar; a small mason with a bullet inside, littered with indents and some bits chipped away. Your mind swirled with scenarios as you put together the story told in front of you. A career so intense, so all-important; it was difficult to imagine the man in the kitchen enmeshed in one.

In the distance, the kettle whistles, effectively ripping you from your peering. Before he can shout for you, you’ve walked around the corner, ready to claim a drink your mouth will savor.

“Here you are.” Across the marble countertop, Price slid forward the mug.

A green tea of sorts, with a bit of cream on top and a dust of cinnamon. The presentation is nowhere near seamless, with its lopsided spoonful of foam and granules that ended up sprinkled unevenly through his fingers. Still, there was nothing wrong with a drink that looked homemade.

“Matcha?” You ask, wrapping your fingers around the handle of the mug, then using your supporting hand to hold the small plate it’s resting on.

Price glances at the tea box through the frosted glass cabinets then nods. When he presses his own mug to his lips, the tea is ebony and swirling like a cyclone from the sugar he mixed in.

From the corner of your eye, you skim past him and gaze out the window overlooking the deep copper sink. Through its rectangular pane, you see the string of herbs and leaves grown — well-tended and used often in his cooking, surely.

You point a free finger towards the fresh greens outside, “do you grow it?”

He lets out a rumbly chuckle and shakes his head, “if I could. Matcha plants are loads of work.” You now spot the pasty green box poking through the cabinet, which you hadn’t noticed when too occupied with the herb planters.

You mutter a ‘hm’ in response and raise the porcelain rim to your lips, feeling the steam scald the tip of your nose and Cupid's bow. The vegetal fragrance of the green tea soothes your senses — just before the spice of cinnamon gives them a right hook.

To keep your eyes from tearing, you close them and take your first sip. It’s thicker than you anticipated, coating your mouth and throat as you swallow, yet the taste is pleasant and earthy.

Whatever John had done to prepare it, he did it correctly. That much you could tell.

Before your throat can sizzle with aftertaste, the cold foam dollop calms it. From grassy, fresh matcha to a striking sweet cream.

“You have a bit…” Price motions to his mouth, an index pointed toward the left corner of his mouth. The cream is too airy for you to notice any accidental residue. You’ve missed the swear twice before he sighs and raises a crumpled napkin to your lips.

You meet gazes while he dabs at your bottom lip, feeling any confidence seep from you in an instant.

The sweet aroma fleeted instantly with the proximity, now with your nostrils flooded with his fragrance. Smokey and masculine; something rum-adjacent, mixed sinfully with cedarwood and the earthy smell of crisp soil. And then, lastly, there are the pungent remnants of his minty mouthwash, which is slightly diluted by the black tea he swallowed.

This close, you can trace every wrinkle and line with your eyes. While you’re engulfed in his presence, he’s observing. Smothered and suffocating with the weight of diminishing continence. The vermillion sundress, the tray of goodies in the corner of his vision, the twitch of your lips as he dabs and drags with the linen.

Price has yet to notice his other hand, grabbing the tip of your chin with a feather-like hold.

But you have, blinking rapidly a few times while the chalky foam is rid of your mouth, which might as well have been thrown in the trash along with the napkin — because you’ve turned reticent.

“There.” He whispers, mouth curling into a polite glow.

Ultimately, your haze falters. Your senses unfreeze when you’re no longer swarmed by his aroma, or his tender touch when he walks back around the breakfast bar. Warmth coaxes your fingers, still emanating from the tea snug in your grip — even after the milky olive-tinted liquid has gone tepid.

With a perpetually widened gaze, you raised your mug to finish off the rest of your tea. This neighborly visit had played out differently than you expected. You savored about half of the lukewarm brew, letting it mellow the pining that arose when he got close. Sweaty fingers fumbled around the handle when you tipped the cup again, sending a gush of tea down the front of your outfit. The fabric stained instantaneously as the warmth soaked in, whilst the sugary cream made the dress cling in an unsavory, sticky fashion.

You cursed audibly and darted your gaze towards him apologetically, setting the mug down with a clammer. “I’m sorry,” you gasped, feeling an ocean’s wave of dishonor pummel through you at once.

John, who was mid-cleanup, jerked his head to the side when he heard the commotion. When greeted with the frazzled expression, he made an effort to soothe it. It wasn’t your fault; it was only some overpriced, boxed infusion that had collected dust in the back of his cabinet.

Besides, you were in front of him, now in soaked clothing and apologizing profusely.

“Don’t apologize. Happens to the best of us.” That damn smile again. The wrinkles around his eyes, the almost all-knowing look of understanding in them.

He fisted your discarded mug, turning on the sink.

“The washroom is down the hall, in my room. It has a better mirror than the half.” Price wavers through his instructions, overcome with his own helping of uncertainty. Nothing had gone explicitly wrong, per se, but it didn’t mean they went right. But they never do, do they? There’s a reason he decided on a life of recluse, even more, a reason for him to befriend seclusion so closely.

Your footsteps retreated down the hall, passing the picture frames and decor you had been admiring moments ago. John scrubbed both mugs until they were full of suds and then rinsed, placing them on the dish rack afterward. He made it a habit to never leave used dishes to sit in the sink.

Quickly, he walked through the open door of his bedroom. Golden beams peeked out from the gap under the door, where you were frantically blotting the stains. He pulled the string on his bedside lamp, illuminating a majority of the moody, rustic bedroom. His fingers hooked around the handle, gently sliding open the pocket doors of his closet.

His t-shirts hung neatly on the left wall, whilst his fewer button-ups remained on the opposite. With a quick hum, he took hold of his baggiest navy blue tee, draping it over his forearm. From inside his dresser, he grabbed a pair of sweats that were tight on him — enough to prevent them from slipping down your legs.

Inside the bathroom, you alternated between being hunched over the counter in embarrassment, to rubbing your dress profusely. The damp washcloth was doing little to the fabric, which was a few shades darker from the liquid, compressing tighter against you. It wasn’t a flattering look, nor was it a comfortable fit anymore. Akin to the feeling of maple syrup residue on your hands after breakfast, only it was covering the front of your body.

Would it have been better to spill on his authentic wood floors? Was it completely selfish to prefer it, to spare the discomfort of a soaked garment?

Two subdued knocks on the door halted your useless wiping. “I have some clothes.” The gruff voice spoke through the door, yet remained as placid as it was in the kitchen.

“Oh, no need,” you replied dismissively through the door. “I can change at home.” You tossed the wet towel into the small hamper. When you opened the door, Price remained standing there, fresh clothing in hand.

The thought was there, and now were the actions to go along. You didn’t want to change at home or be walking down that dirt avenue at all. At this hour, home would be lonesome and still, regardless of whether your new neighbor was fanciable or not.

But he was; that made him all the harder to decline.

Void of any attempt on John’s part, his gaze scanned the mess that covered you. This time, more obvious than he would’ve liked. It felt wrong; downright distasteful and discouraging, to do so.

Howbeit, he did — and you sensed it this time. The unavoidable gawking at your snug gown, devouring his dwindling abstinence. No unease, imminence, or desire to dismiss yourself ever came. Not like it did with men on the street, who resembled that of depraved, hungry hounds.

John wasn’t corrupted; behind the lust, there was something more, something too complex to daydream.

“Nonsense.” He persisted, the clothes remaining outstretched. “It’s raining. And you’ve got to walk quite a way, don’t you?”

You leaned your head against the thick wood of the door, unable to spit out another worthy excuse. “Thank you. Really.” With a nod, you took the folded clothing, setting the pieces on the countertop beside you. As he accepted your answer and turned on his heels, you mustered the gut to speak again.

“And, John?” You stepped through the threshold of the door, “if I go home in these clothes, you probably won’t get them back.”

“I’ll keep the dish, then.” This time, he didn’t back away after stepping closer. “Do we have a deal?” His breathing picked up subtly but was noticeable against your face. When faced with his proximity before, you fumbled a mug. But now, you were certain of every ache and desire troubling you.

Whoever leaned in first became a fleeting afterthought. It didn’t matter, not while your mouths and noses clashed together. He was the first to give way, to tilt his head to relieve the pressure on your nose, which allowed him more mobility.

Your knees nearly buckled when his hands cupped your cheeks — how the calloused prints of his fingers felt against the opposing texture of your face. It felt natural; a relief to every urge you’ve stifled from the moment he answered his door.

Before you broke away for air, he removed his lips while still maintaining his tender hold on your face.

“Are you sure about this…?” Price posed, pressing his forehead against yours. You exchanged each other's exhales, cloaking your racing thoughts with a suffocating, dizzy effect.

Still, regardless of your thundering heartbeat and draining lungs — you uttered the quickest yes of your lifetime. This time, you turned your head when lips and teeth clashed, back colliding with the door. Your lips parted as you panted, letting his tongue swipe along your lips, leaving them saturated. His beard audibly scraped against your jaw and down your neck, producing goosebumps as you shivered.

Though his movements weren’t theatrical or jaw-dropping, they left you unable to lose focus. His hands wrapped around the sleeves of the ruined gown, rolling the fabric down while he dropped into a kneel before you.

A need to provide, to satisfy, to satiate. No teases, no dramatics; just utter experience. The only terms you would associate with him currently.

The clingy fabric peeled off like a sticky bandage, peeling to expose the damn stain from cleavage to your pelvis. John’s briefly raised to suckle between your breasts, cleaning off every drop of the tea that had soaked through the discarded dress. Down; sternum to belly button, savoring the small remnants of the sweet cream.

“So beautiful,” he muttered, lips pressed to your lower stomach. His hands moved and kneaded your hips in worship. Despite his face hovering in front of your panties, and how he was actively trailing kisses along your thighs — his voice never changed. Not cloaked with blind lust or hesitation.

Admiration, purely; for you, maybe only your body. But you didn’t care about that — or couldn’t — right now. John was utterly too much, From light conversation to huddling in the restroom, then to being backed against the door. One hand rested on your lower stomach, as a means of keeping your back against the door. The other rolled your undergarments down at a sluggish pace, beard and lips following the falling undies.

Your neck craned down, seeing them fall to your ankles, shortly before the cold breeze hit your exposed core — emanating from the bathroom window left slightly ajar. The muscles in your thighs tense when Price’s tongue finally makes brief contact with it, blown pupils still staring up at you.

His tongue lay flat against your clit for a few moments until saliva rolled down his tongue, allowing him to delve deeper. Further on, he would kiss and suckle on the bundle of nerves, and you were sure your grip on the knob couldn’t have been firmer. Experience truly was the right word to describe him, earlier and now more than ever.

Along your slit, he plunged inside, growly breaths vibrating against your sensitivity. Your taste coated his mouth, and your natural scent drove him mad; like no other partner he’d had before.

“Wanna feel you—” Price slurped again, then pulled away to finish, “—clench around my fingers. You want that, sweetheart?” His tongue glistened under the spotty lighting, his buff chest still heavy. He was goddamn distracting in this state, more than he was before.

After a flash of muteness, you nodded your head. As if you could pass up that offer; if it was an offer at all.

True to his word and the desires racing through his head, John slipped his middle finger inside your entrance. Instantly, the appendage glided against the soaked, puffy walls of your cunt, causing him to chuckle with satisfaction.

Even the smallest pump forced a whine from your lips, though you were unsure what you should be pleading for. Tonight, this feeling was already unsurpassed.

“Another, huh? Can’t fuckin’ say no to you, can I?” Next entered his ring finger, the thick digits stretching you out delectably, in ways you could only dream of executing with your own two fingers.

His name slipped out when he curled them against your sweet spot, daring your knees to buckle and send both of you tumbling. His eerily observant nature had him anticipating the sudden weakness, and his other hand holding you in place never once faltered. Finding his shaggy hair, your fingers intertwined with the locks, purely to be holding onto anything of his when you inevitably come undone.

Back to slobbering, his tongue ran laps against your swollen clit, the tip of his nose knocking against it with every pass. Each flick, each thrust making your back arch wildly against the door. And once again, as he anticipated, you ended up clenching around his fingers like he wanted.

So tense, it was any wonder Price was able to keep moving his fingers. His erection pressed against his thigh, the tight denim making him resist the urge to squirm. Oh, how you sounded, how you felt. His years of stamina and strength training will surely be tested once it’s his cock filling you up instead.

The nub throbbed and visibly pulsed when he combined a well-timed lick and curl all at once, plunging you off that cliff of release. Around his head, your thighs clamped tighter than the fingers digging into his scalp. It was clear you’d be reeling this feeling for days to come, probably a climax to forever be unbeaten during your life.

Your heart hammered against your rib cage, your lungs exhausted and working overtime as you sucked in desperate breaths. “Fuck— that was…” You breathed, unable to articulate any one of the feelings assaulting your system.

The leer tugging at the corners of his soaked mouth wasn’t smug, it was pleased; pleasantly. Slowly, he raised himself, holding each side of your face. Price slurred, “You sound lovely when you cum, y’know that?” Before you could lift a finger to answer again, his dangerous tongue swirled around yours, spreading the taste of yourself against your taste buds.

Your sticky inner thighs glided when he blindly led you out of the threshold, collapsing atop you. The frame creaked under the weight of both of you, the mattress now with a crater in the center of it.

“Want you to fuck me, John. Please.” You pleaded between kisses, unconsciously wrapping a leg around his waist for any friction on the mess he caused. The sensitive tip of his cock ached, despite only being rocked against through the thick denim.

As if your sounds of pleasure weren’t divine enough, that fucking word was. Please. So desperate, so distraught. If he had the restraint or the patience, Price might coax a few more begs out of you — but those were the two things he didn’t have currently.

Briefly, his touches ceased when he leaned back. Swiftly unbuckling his belt, he slid out of his jeans and tossed them aside; discarded, now the only clutter in the bedroom. Soaked through his grey briefs, a stain of pre-cum, merely proving how badly he needed you. The same as his jeans, he rid himself of them, erection upright and freed.

Girthy and curved upward a hair, capable of reaching deeper than his fingers. Down his happy trail, which you got a peak of during the first encounter, were his trimmed pubes. The same shade of brown as the hair littering his chest. You examined further, spotting a few prominent veins bound to drive you mad.

Any longer without it, and you were willing to start pawing at him. The stars must’ve been aligned, because pleading wasn’t necessary anymore.

“Spread your legs f’me.” You did, as swiftly as he uttered the command. As wide as comfortable, you exposed the mess of your pussy to him, reflecting off the cool moonlight peaking through his blinds. Glistening and twitching from the first climax, remnants still left around your inner thighs. “Gonna fill you up, fuck you proper, hm? Have you clenching around me?”

As if his fingers weren’t euphoric enough. Gnawing on your bottom lip until it ached, you nodded your head eagerly, hooking an arm around your leg to keep the shaky limb steady.

Price gripped the base of his cock, guiding it toward your entrance. The tip slipped in as smooth as honey, coated in slick and strings of his saliva leftover. With a drenched glide, the rest of him dipped inside, until his pelvis was against yours.

Entirely crammed inside, your head lolled back against the comforter, reeling in the painless stretch of his girth. And how, before the movements began, the natural curve of his cock had him snug against your cervix, kissing all the right places within you. Your fingers trailed downward, beginning to rub circles around your responsive clit, the wet clicks combining with the squelch of his thrusts.

Whatever noises came from you were all-natural and uncontrollable, from a sensual place within you never trespassed. John grunted with every tighten around his length, pumping deeply and with more force. His thoughts earlier rang true, how little restraint you left him with. Already, he could’ve finished inside of you — just from the view of your body alone.

Breasts bouncing, hips jiggling, the sounds of your soaked core, the expression on your face as he got rougher. “Such a good girl, takin’ every inch of me,” his words came out grunts, matching the pace of his jabs.

“You’ll cum for me again, and let me hear those bloody sounds, won’t you? Fuckin’ touching yourself, all needy.” For him, the words acted as a distraction until you came undone for a second time. For you, it enhances your stimulation tenfold — his voice was like nectar, yet it rumbled through the room like thunder.

It mixed with the real thunder outside, which you caught bits of between everything. The rain he said the area was due for, faintly coming down in the distance, and surely headed this way by the time your legs shook.

With a soft nudge, he shimmied closer between your thighs, chest inches from yours, and allowed him to slam against your cervix. Your fingers had gone erratic, desperately teasing the bundle of nerves the closer you got to release.

And John, sure of this, allowed himself to focus on a fraction of his pleasure. You twitched around his length, swallowing every last inch of him. Arousal dribbled from you to the bed, soaking into the navy blue duvet.

When the coil of pleasure began bursting at the seams, his name slipped out again, in between your gasps for oxygen. How his thrusts had turned as sloppy as your fingers, every jerk of his pelvis knocking the wind out of you. Your legs wrapped tight around his waist, feet hooking under his backside to keep him locked in — as if the thought of stopping had ever crossed his mind.

Thighs quivering like your fingers were, you dug your fingernails into his shoulders, leaving crescent indents in his flesh. Yet another string of moans poured out of you, which tipped John over the edge same edge you’d tumbled off twice. His balls contracted while they drained, strings of pearly cum painting you on the inside.

Warmth filled you, from your tummy to your core, his length swimming in his own sloppy release. Your constricted ab muscles slowly eased up as the aftermath of orgasm faded, leaving you breathless and spent. His agape mouth dipped down as he withdrew his softening cock from you slowly, careful to not leave you any more sensitive than you already were.

The kiss distracted you and served as a reminder of what this hookup meant. Not regretful, not meaningless. Something lingered in the air, beyond the smell of sweat and sex.

Though his body begged to collapse atop you and fall fast asleep, you deserved to be taken care of. Price planted a parting kiss on your jaw, making the short trip to the bathroom to grab one of his fresh washcloths.

Silently, you observed his tenderness take over — even though it never left him. With a few featherlike swipes, he wiped away the messy aftermath of arousal, saliva, and cum, disposing of the used towel somewhere in the darkness.

You fought to stay awake, feeling his weight sink beside you once more after some squirming around. Eventually, John successfully got you and himself under the thick comforter, weighted and radiating as much warmth as your bodies. An arm snaked under your head, your back against his chest. The other arm around your waist, keeping you right up against his soft body.

He waited until he saw the rise and fall of your frame, the faint breaths of deep sleep before he decided that was permission enough to do the same.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Insects chirped loudly, enough to stir you awake.

Fresh morning light peaked through the blinds, which had been opened. Through your twitching lids, the intensity made your face scrunch. One hand reached up and rubbed them, while the other palmed beside you.

No sign of your neighbor, if he can have that title after last night.

His side had gone cold, and anything that was askew had been picked up or set back in place. Sitting yourself up, you groaned from hunger and the soreness in your legs. Beside the dresser, were the sweatpants and t-shirt he was going to lend you yesterday. Still neatly folded, placed with care on one of his leather armchairs.

You peeled the comforter off your sticky skin, coated with a layer of sweat from the sunlight on you. Usually overheating would’ve had you lying awake and sizzling, but it was clear that Price had thoroughly tired you out.

In addition to the shirt and pants, he provided a clean pair of boxers — since the ones you came over wearing had been long soiled. And nowhere to be found in the bathroom, where you made your best effort to fix up your appearance.

Aside from the sounds of nature, there was the hum of an appliance when you opened the bedroom door. Down the hall, you passed the dryer; the root of the tumbling sound. Through the small window, was your cherry sundress and underwear, half dry and spinning in circles.

Your bare feet adjusted to the cold wood, taking small, sleepy strides down the hall.

Into the living room, you laid eyes on the shelves around his television. Since you spent most of the visit on the porch, in the kitchen, and obviously the bedroom, you hadn’t had time to inspect this area closely.

Custom-built shelves frame the television. Rustic, meticulous decor placed on them. Some were store-bought, others looked to be souvenirs and memories. Stepping closer, you spotted a few framed photos; four soldiers, with Sharpie written on the corner: 1-4-1.

On the bright side, there is one mystery solved about his past. Military, or SAS, which you spot on their patches. Shuffling along, your gaze sets on the next section. More medals and ribbons, each most likely with their own significance.

Most notably, a plaque displaying his full name and title: Capt. Jonathan Price.

Another mystery solved. Why he had been so observant, so skilled at asking his questions. It all began to make sense, especially the closer you examined the relics. With a slight hm, you decided it best to stop snooping on the man’s possessions and continue your search for him.

No sign of Zeus in the house either, which isn’t shocking since he’s practically sewn to John’s hip.

Through the kitchen you go, finally picking up on the faint voice outside. Through the window overlooking the copper sink, you see Price tending to the herbs you pointed out the previous day, seemingly making conversation with his canine.

You continue on, opening the creaky patio door and shutting it behind you. You walk along the stained wood deck, rounding the corner. He’s in the middle of kneeling down, meticulously planting another herb or seasoning for his mini-garden.

“Looking good, Captain.” You startle him slightly, leaning a shoulder against the paneling of the cabin.

Price’s head perks up, snapping to the side at the sudden sound. And Zeus predictably treks over for your undivided attention, and you’re unable to refuse. The golden walks beside you when you approach further, and John gets to his feet with a small grunt.

“Snooping again, are we?” His lips curl into a harmless smile, dirt-covered fingers playing with the backs of your hands.

You shrug your shoulders, unable to conceal the feelings of fluster. Being put on the spot was something you’d have to get used to, that’s for sure. “Maybe I was. Just a little bit.”

“Careful now, sweetheart.” His voice molds into that of a superior, which you hadn’t heard from him yet. Was it twisted how much it excites you? Price continued, “or I might have you calling me Captain from here on.”

With a light scoff, you muster the last bits of confidence left in you.

“Is that a promise?”

♡‧₊˚✧˖° divider cred. - cafekitsune

#mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #price mw2 #captain john price #john price #captain price #price #john price headcanons #price headcanons #captain price headcanons #john price x you #john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #price x you #captain price x you #john price x y/n

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the-universe-carries-on · 6 months ago

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LoTF Character Appearance Chart:

I think there used to be one of these, but the person left Tumblr. My copy is the Penguin Great Books copy (teal cover), so it might be different from yours. Bear with me.

Ralph: Fair hair (p. 1), Grey shirt (p. 1), 12 years old and a few months (p. 4), wide and heavy shoulders like a boxer (p. 4), mild mouth and eyes (p. 4), biggest on the island (p 15), Ralph started with hair at half an inch (p 96), bites his nails to the quick (p 96), His mother is dead as he claims mummy was still with them (p 99)

Jack: Tall, thin and bony (p. 13), red hair beneath his choir cap (p 13), face crumpled and freckled and ugly without silliness (p 13), light blue eyes (p 13), biggest choir boy (p. 14), freckled (p 15), sandy long hair (p 39), sunburnt (p 39), tall (p 57)

Simon: skinny and vivd (p 16), straight black coarse hair (p 16), smaller than Ralph and Jack (p 17), small (p 46), darkish in color and tanned deeply (p 46)

Piggy: Wind-Breaker (p. 1), Shorter than Ralph and "Fat" (p. 1), Thick glasses (p. 1), Pale (p. 6), tans to golden brown (p 54), wispy hair as though baldness was his natural state (p 54), different accent than the others (p 54)

Roger: slight, furtive boy (p. 14), dark boy (p 15), doesn't darken by tanning (p 50), black hair down to his nape (p 50), swarthy skin (p 52)

Johnny: Six years old (p. 11), Sturdy and fair (p. 11), well-built with fair hair (p 50), china blue eyes (p 50)

Maurice: second largest choir boy (p 14), broad and grinning all the time (p 14)

Samneric: Bullet-headed with "hair like tow" (p. 12), not enough skin when they smile (p. 12), unsuspected intelligence (p 31), unable to do things apart (p 84)

Mulberry Boy: about six years old and a shrimp (p 27), mulberry colored birthmark on one side of his face (p 27)

Henry: Biggest littlun and distantly related to the mulberry boy (p 49)

Percival: Mouse-colored and not very attractive (p 50)

Phil: Self confident littlun (p 73)

Littluns: A dark little boy (p. 11), Uniforms colored grey, blue, fawn (p. 11), Hair in brown, fair, black, chestnut, sandy, mouse-colored (p. 12)

Extra Information: Simon Robert and Maurice are in a grey area between littlun and biggun (p. 49), Jack's original paint is one cheek and eye socket white red on the other half of his face and charcoal from right ear to left jaw (p 51), Maurice Simon Piggy and Ralph were not present for the first pig killed (p 56), Jack and Ralph both think Africa is a country (p 71), Bill slaps Johnny to get him to stop crying (p 88), Robert laughs at Simon when he bashes into a tree (p 91), Simon predicts his own death (p 98), they bit Simon as he died. They cannibalized him (p 136)

#this seemed useful to me and others #lord of the flies #lotf #.lucky.#lotf characters #lotf ralph #lotf jack #lotf roger #lotf appearances #lotf piggy #lotf simon #tw spoilers

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pugsleybugpug · 3 months ago

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Moo Deng as Baby Clay

One of my thoughts when I first saw Moo Deng was that she looks like a short chubby version of Clay, so the idea was made. The hand scratching Clay’s chin is Dune, he is missing a thumb. The next match of Moo Deng as Baby Clay should be in a few weeks.

[Start ID: The first photo is a front facing chubby baby Clay from Wings of Fire. He is facing the camera with a dead eyed stare and tongue out. Dune, also from Wings of Fire, is scratching baby Clay’s chin. — The second photo is baby Clay screaming with his mouth fully agape. He is facing the camera from the side. Dune’s hand is trying to scratch Clay’s chin but is failing miserably. — Third photo shows baby Clay falling over on to the ground. His mouth is wide open and he is shocked.

Clay has pinkish cow ears and dark brown horns and talons. Clays eyes are a gradient of brown, orange, and yellow. Clay has a top layer of coffee brown, pumpkin orange, and tan. — Dune’s hand is lacking a thumb, with a dark red burn scar that is around the stump. Dune’s arm has spikes running down it and a gradient of Tuscan Tan. Most of Dune’s arm is Sugar Cookie tan because it serves as the underside. Dune’s main color is Granola tan with the talons being Charcoal black. - End ID]

#wings of fire #wof art #moo deng #clay wof #wof clay #Baby Clay #wof mudwing #Wof

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thefandomsfervent · 1 month ago

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Viktor x Reader Personal Pigments (Part 6) - Carmine Red

Longest one yet! A little more panic/PTSD mention, a lot more of Viktor being confused. Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom. Thank you for reading <3

╔═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╗

You had finished the drawing a couple hours ago. Jayce and Viktor didn't let you throw it away after, which you didn't intend to do. But Viktor heard you unclip it from the board and simply raised his brows at Jayce before leaning his head in your direction.

The tan man was at your station in a heartbeat. Before you could say anything, he gently pulled it from your hands and posted it to the wall with some pins. It reminded you of your first days at the Institute, when the peers you had made forced each other to show their work. Not out of maliciousness this time, but out of care. Or like a proud parent posting a drawing to the cupboard. It was silly either way.

You laughed before saying "if you don't let me spray fixative on it, the charcoal will rub off"

"Good thing this room has great ventilation." Is all Jayce said. He sat back down at his station and kept scribbling in his notebook. Him and Viktor had stopped fiddling with the crystals for today. Both of them pouring over textbooks and pages of notes.

You decided to leave early for dinner and take a walk to clear your head. Then you could come back focused. Despite calming yourself down, your leg still bounced with an undirected energy. It waved the papers loosely hanging off your table, it made your shoe tap against the tile, it made every sound overwhelming. You bid the boys a quick goodbye, “I’ll be back later,” and headed out. The two of them wave you off without looking up from their texts.

A cool breeze greets you when you step outside of the Academy. It’s a welcome feeling, it pulls the residual anxiety from your chest. You walk around the whole building twice, letting the heat peel off you into the evening air. By the time you’re back inside, the sun has sunk below the horizon. A comforting chill settled into your bones. Dinner sounded amazing, although you hadn’t really stocked up on any cookable foods this week. A sandwich?

It’d have to do.

You make a beeline for your pantry as soon as you’re in your room. The sandwich didn’t stand a chance. Poor thing. You thought about making a second one as you sat in a chair. Exhaustion runs deep in your body. The room you were provided with was much warmer than the refreshing air outside. Before you know it, you’re leaning back and closing your eyes. Darkness a balm on the headache you’ve been sporting since this afternoon.

It isn’t a dreamless sleep that greets you.

It’s that damned bridge. It’s enforcers. It’s spilled paint. Broken glass. A scream. A hand grabbing at your shoulder. Fire. Heat. Burning pain. Running. You were running. Reaching towards something. Almost there, you were almos-

The gulp of air you take is loud. It’s dry and you’re coughing on nothing but your own drool. You were already standing. The chair was laying on its back behind you. Your neck was stiff and a shooting pain makes you wince when you turn for water. It’s a slow walk to the sink. One that has you collecting your breaths, your thoughts. “What time is it?” A clock on the wall tells you it’s late. Really late. They were expecting you back in the lab hours ago. You hadn’t really given them an exact time, but guilt climbs its way to the top of your mountainous feelings. It slides back down when you realize how thirsty you were. You’re chugging two glasses of water, one after another, barely breathing between gulps.

You were okay, you weren’t there anymore. It was a dream. A bad one, but a dream. You could forget it and move on just like the rest of the world wanted to do. You didn’t want to think about it. You didn’t have to. There was work to do.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Jayce had left for bed a couple hours ago. They moved on from trying to stabilize the crystals to talk more about what they could accomplish with them. There was no point charging at the same problem over and over again expecting change. They “needed to let it sit and come back to it later”. Or that’s what Jayce said when they reached an impasse for the hundredth time that week. It bothered him. It bothered both of them. Since you left, the two of them had bounced ideas and theories off each other. Filling post notes and papers with equations and editing each other’s. He looks at Jayce’s barely legible scribbles and smiles softly. It is comforting to know that they are in this together.

He turns to face your empty table. You had been gone for a while. He was not worried, per se, but it was peculiar considering your moment earlier today. He looks at the drawing Jayce pinned to a wall. You had replicated that harsh line several times over, smaller branches splintering off of them. They radiated around the center. Instead of just ovals, rectangles, and thin lines in the center shaping a body, you had refined them. Added details. Jayce’s broad shoulders leading to a barely shaded vest. A dark tie. His hands frenetically move around in almost every iteration. “She’s certainly captured his energy.” He thinks to himself, quietly chuckling at the depiction. His eyes wander around the drawing until something catches his eye. He looks at the lab as you’ve drawn it. The background is much simpler, unshaded planes to represent the walls and tables, he thinks that if you had drawn it all in the same detail it would have been overwhelming. Details that he finds himself looking at again and again.

You drew Viktor with the same effort as you had drawn Jayce. His hair swept up in tousled curls. “It was not that unkempt today… was it?” He runs his hands through the dark chestnut locks. He fiddles with the handle on his cane, you had drawn that too. There were a few versions of him that didn’t have it, the ones where he was sitting, or leaning on Jayce. It is an odd feeling that sits in his stomach. When you painted him, would you painstakingly capture every detail on it? It should not bother him. He likes that you do not hide it. He doesn’t know what to do with that liking. When this painting was displayed, and he stood next to his partner, would people see past it? He chooses to focus on that bitter question instead. It is an easier, more familiar feeling. It doesn’t sit in his stomach, but his chest. A buzzing that irks him. Damn them if they do, damn them if they don’t. It did not matter. He was doing great things for himself, for Jayce. For Hextech.

The huff that follows has more emotion to it than he would like to admit. Viktor turns away from the drawing, instead to your work space. Remnants of broken charcoal on your table and below it. You’d crushed it not just in your hand, but under your boots. He thinks back to that moment when you had stood. Like you had seen something when the crystal hadn’t agreed with their experiment. Not seen something, remembered something. When you came back from the hallway he thought that was that. But while you were drawing he heard it. Your boot tapping on the tile and the way you had stopped several times during your process. He had seen you go at it for hours straight before, not stopping once. Yet you had paused several times over today. After Jayce had pinned your work to the wall, you had left rather quickly. You said you’d be back later. And it was late.

It was late, and he should be working instead of wondering about you. So he stretches his arms out, flexing and unflexing his hands. He works for another 30 or 40 minutes when he hears the door open. The scrape of it on the floor pulling his head up from textbooks and notes. You walked in looking… tired.

“You are back so soon?” The sarcasm in his question is not lost on you. You give a half-smile, not really reaching your eyes as you make your way to your chair.

“Lost track of time,” You look down at a crunch. Another piece of charcoal decimated under your boot. “I forget how messy this medium is, sorry.” You’re bending down to sweep it onto a piece of paper. He hums a reply but doesn’t look at you. “Is Jayce still around?” You’re scanning the lab, realizing he isn’t there.

“It is late Ms. L/N.” He doesn’t use your first name yet. It has become habit to address you by your last. Again, you do not seem offended by it. This time it’s you who gives a wordless reply. You’re pulling out a sheet of glass. It clinks against your table and he looks at you. You’re bending behind your desk again, pulling out small jars of liquid, powders, and a jar of… bugs? Curiosity gets the better of him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m mixing paint.” You’re pulling out a mortar and pestle now, pouring some of the bugs into the bowl. They make a scratchy hollow sound. Dead bugs. Better than live ones he supposes, but interesting. He stands and makes his way over to you. You don’t look up when his cane taps along the tile, you don’t look up when he stands in front of you either. You begin to crush them. At first they were brown. After a few pushes of the pestle, a red powder collects.

“Paint?” He leans closer on the word. “From beetles?”

“Not beetles, but close. These are female cochineal bugs. Parasitic from Shurima.” Expensive. You don’t say that part but he assumes. You’re handling them very carefully. “They make a beautiful purple-red, if you do it all right.” You’re grinding them down finely before pouring them into the water. You stir it with the edge of a pencil until it’s fully mixed. As mixed as dried bugs can be with water. You pour something white into it after, it turns it purple as you start mixing. At his raised brow say, “Sodium Carbonate. If I add heat to it, it’ll pull the acid out of the pigment.” Still mixing. “Can I borrow a burner?” You look tired.

“You start all of this without your own?” He’s intrigued at your process, the question is playful. You hear the tone and this time the smile reaches your eyes. “Oh master scientist, please take pity on me.” Your voice is quiet, deadpan, but he plays along.

“Since you are in such distress, how could I deny the plea.” He doesn’t grab it for you, you seem to have already known that they have one. He gestures to the lab behind you. You hand him the pencil and motion for him to keep stirring. He does. He stirs slowly and watches as you make your way across the lab and grab one. It is another odd feeling he can’t name. Watching you move around the lab with familiarity. What else did you take notice of here? This whole time he assumed that you were studying him and Jayce. He hadn’t realized you’d been taking it all in. You’re striking a match when you settle, lighting the coil. It comes to life and you take the glass from him. Your fingers were cold as they passed over his. You put the glass on the plate above the burner and lean back in your chair.

“What now?”

“We wait, until it boils.” You grab something else, a filter, more powders, another glass. “Then I’ll filter it, mix it with some alum, boil it again,split some of it with something acidic to make purple, strain them again, and let them dry.“

“Do you mix all your paints?” You look up at him to respond. He tries to keep his focus on the now boiling mixture but a light catches in your eyes. The fire slowly licking around your irises.

“Not all of them. But when I can, I do.” He swallows and that same look of observation you wore on that first day follows the bob in his throat. “It connects me to the process.” You look away and grab another small jar of powder. It was a bright pinky purple, almost empty save for what could have been a couple grams. “Eventually it’ll look like this before I mix it with binder. I needed to restock.” You gently dump the jar onto the glass plate you pulled out earlier. You’re grabbing something else when you glance at him again. “Thank you.”

“For what?” He can’t hide the surprise in his voice.

“For listening.” You’re already focusing back on your mixing. Adding an oily substance to the plate and circling it over with some kind of glass tool. Even pressure, the grinding a satisfying sound. He doesn’t know what to say to that. So he just nods, unsurely, and goes back to his seat. This time the ambiance of the lab is made up of his scribbling and your tinkering. It goes on like this for about an hour.

The bubbling of your mixture stops eventually. Loss of the sound pulls him from his work, he watches you pour it over a filter. Liquid starts dripping into the glass. You cross your arms on the table and lay your head down. He sees you shift in your chair a few times, your breathing moving your shoulders.

The clinking starts off fast but slows after a few minutes. And by the time the liquid fills the glass, no dripping at all, your breathing has evened out. Viktor keeps working. Reading a passage in one of the many books him and Jayce had checked out that week.

“Every occurrence in Nature is preceded by other occurrences which are its causes, and succeeded by others which are its effects. The human mind is not satisfied with observing and studying any natural occurrence alone, but takes pleasure in connecting every natural fact with what has gone before it, and with what is to come after it. - J. Tyndall”.

He marks the page.

╚═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╝

lol, so I loved the quote but the picture I found it on reallllly screams graphic design is my passion

--------------.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ Part 5-.-Part 7.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .-----------------

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

#The slow burn is starting!#walk slowly to your fire extinguishers #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #arcane #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #jayvik

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zooophagous · 5 months ago

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Favorite non-standard (black, tabby, red, pointed, grey, etc) cat colour?

Big fan of the charcoal gene. It's present in hybrid breeds like bengals and I believe it can also show up in savannas? It's the closest a cat gets to black and tan. I've seen a few examples of moggies with this gene as it becomes slowly more common over time and bleeds into the greater cat population.

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chelseypprimrose · 2 years ago

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The Pre-College Bucket List / negan smith x reader (stepdad/stepdaughter)

Warnings ⚠️ : voyerism (someone asleep in the room), unprotected sex, cum swapping, blowjob, daddy kink, choking

Author’s note: think this might be the longest and dirtiest thing I’ve ever wrote and I had so much fun with this one, hope you enjoy! 🤍🫡 not proof read yet!

“Y/N! Can you chop those vegetables that are on the kitchen counter please?!” You sighed, rolling your eyes. Even in your last days at the family home, she was still expecting you to do mundane tasks. You didn’t even want this going away party she had planned for you, it wasn’t like you were going that far away anyways, only about a hours drive. More so, you knew the only reason your mom was hosting this party, so she could brag to her friends about how you had got into such a prestigious college. That’s all she ever did, never told you how proud she was of you, only ever posting on social media about it for validation from people over the internet. While you had gotten used to it now, it still stung more than you’d ever admit.

Opening the draw and taking the knife out, you started to chop the various vegetables that were in the bowl, daydreaming out the large window that showed the back garden outside. That’s when he came into view, your stepdad Negan. He’d been in your life for around the past two years, off and on again like a cringey sitcom drama. Him and your mother had broken up more times than you could count, always over some petty arguments, more so what teenagers would fall out about, never mind two fully grown adults.

He kept coming back though, each time, for what aspect of your mothers personality you didn’t know, it was no secret he was always in a mood with her, you recalled even once them managing to get into a argument during sex, over what you weren’t sure. It ended with raised voices, the threat of ending the relationship and the slamming of the front door quite dramatically by Negan.

Here he still was though, probably remaining because of your mothers crippling fear of spending her later years alone. You watched as he opened the large black grill, placing the charcoal into the bottom compartment, ready for cooking the various types of meat he’d purchased. His white t-shirt clinging to his toned muscles underneath, those damn red gym shorts he always paraded around in, even when he wasn’t working as the gym coach at your old high school. His hair slicked back with a small amount of gel, salt and pepper beard trimmed and neat as it always was. As bad as your heated thoughts were, you couldn’t help yourself. Boys your age just weren’t as attractive as the older men you’d come across in your life, boring.

Always the same pick up lines, always trying to hard to get into girl’s panties while offering nothing themselves, not even being able to give you the release you needed. Frustrated wasn’t even the word to begin to describe how most of your recent situationships had been.

His dirty mouth as well, always charming and funny, he’d make you laugh at the worst of times, so inappropriate but that’s what you liked about him. You continued on with your chopping, taking small and quick glances at his impressive frame when you could, now firing up the grill, the smoke rising. Looking down at the now finished cucumber, you reached out to grab the next bowl when you saw Negan’s arms reach to the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it off in one motion, his slightly tanned and toned stomach coming into view, your eyes glued to his chest.

“Fuck!” You yelped out, the knife making a small cut on the side of your finger, blood flowing out the wound as you dropped the knife onto the counter. Negan’s head whipped around in your direction, taking large strides through the double doors into the kitchen. “You alright, Y/N?” He asked, placing his calloused hands over yours, slightly pulling you towards the kitchen sink, turning the cold water tap on. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine, I was distracted… wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing.” You slightly laughed, hoping he wouldn’t know the reasoning for your moment of ignorance. “Yeah, I gathered that.” Negan stated, a slight smirk coming across his face as he stared into your eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away, holding his gaze as if it was only you two who knew why. “So many distractions around us in this world, wouldn’t you say?” That knowing smirk still plastered over his features. You nodded, not wanting to further embarrass yourself.

Later on, the party was in the second hour, all your friends and family in attendance, the music playing from the outdoor speakers. Most attendees were standing around, some laying on the sun loungers placed next to the big pool and bar that was next to your house. You had a red cup in hand, with wine spritzer, sipping every couple minutes, you’d had enough food that you were feeling tipsy but not out of control. You’d rather not end up embarrassing yourself at your own leaving party, giving the small town something to gossip about after you’d gone. Having small talk here and there with different people, you could hear your mother still boasting loudly about how easy you’d been accepted into the college to various colleagues you recognised from her work place.

“How are you enjoying your party doll?” Deep voice coming from the side of you, Negan coming into view from the peripheral vision of your eye. You smiled, taking another drink of your wine. “Good thanks, not the sort of party I’m used to. Kind of…” you trailed off. “Boring? Think the word your looking for, is boring.” You laughed, looking up at Negan as he raised his eyebrows comically. “You can’t say that! It’s rude.” Your words coated in sarcasm, even though you a hundred percent agreed with his observation. “I appreciate the effort from you and mom but I didn’t really want the big celebration, I’m not moving country, I’m moving a couple hours away. Not so much of a big deal.” You took a seat on the end of the linen sun-lounger, the grey matching umbrella blocking the sunset from your eyes. Negan followed suit, your knees brushing against each other.

“Yeah, well, I tried to tell her you’d be against the big show but I couldn’t convince her. You know she’ll take any opportunity to shit on what other people are doing.” You nodded along, showing your agreement in his statement. You couldn’t deny he was right, your mother would always have to be one above everyone else, a big pissing contest. You thought it was pathetic, just a fake mask to cover over her crumbling love life and how she hadn’t moved up the career ladder in the past ten years. You vowed to yourself you’d never let your life get that way, hard work and dedication would get you to where you wanted to be. “Anything you want to do before you head off to college doll?” You furrowed your brows at Negan’s question as he took another drink of his beer, you weren’t expecting it as it had nothing to do with your previous topic of discussion.

He noted the confused look on your face as he reached into the pocket of his shorts, pulling out a piece of paper with pink lines and heart boarders. Your eyes widened with shock, it was paper from your notebook. He opened it, the words coming into view. “Quite a extensive list, some really good stuff on here dollface.” He smirked, his eyes raking over your pretty, cursive handwriting. He started to laugh, “I could help you out with some of these you know?” You thought he was joking, looking at his face you knew he was serious. You couldn’t remember what you had written, how could you? You had wrote this list a couple months back when you had first got accepted into college. He winked at you before rising to his feet, walking inside to get another beer. You looked on at the surrounding people, he could help you? What did that even mean?

Later on, people had started saying their goodbyes, voicing their congratulations to you as they headed home. “Thank you for coming! I’ll see you on Monday in the office.” Your mother waved at the last couple to leave before shutting the front door, wine glass still in hand. “Hey, I’m not that tired yet, shall we stick a movie on?” Negan suggested, weird you thought. He was normally the first one to retreat to bed after one of your mums social parties but not feeling fatigued yourself you agreed. “Yeah sure but I’ll probably fall asleep, I’m quite tired.” Your mom stated, accompanied with a yawn. You rolled your eyes, more like she’d had too much wine and couldn’t handle it. You moved to the living room, grabbing the large blanket from the first couch, covering your body.

Your mom took a place on the couch placed on the other side of the room, lying down. Negan walked into the room with a small bowl of popcorn, placing it on the glass coffee table in front of the tv. Sitting next to you, he grabbed the remote, putting on some random chic-flick. You settled down, letting your body sink into the couch. Negan’s arm raised to the back of the couch, his fingertips just slightly touching your shoulder. You kept your eyes trained on the tv, feeling your heart beating at a faster pace than before. He started mindlessly drawing small circles on the top of your skin, you felt your core getting tighter with every small touch. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, trying to calm the wave of lust that was flowing over your body. Negan used his other hand to dig into his pocket, pulling out that list again, re opening it, placing it on his knee. “What about this one doll?” He asked, pointing to one of the lines you’d written.

‘Have sex next to someone asleep, fear of getting caught might make it sexier!’

Oh my god, you thought. You couldn’t even remember writing that one, thinking back to the day you wrote it, might have a couple too many drinks. You locked eyes with him, his signature shit-eating grin on his face. “I…um. I-I don’t remember writing that one.” You trailed off, trying to find any excuse to why you’d write something so taboo. Before you could think, Negan threw the paper onto the coffee table, his strong hands grabbing the bottoms of your thighs, lifting you up onto him, the feeling of his semi-erect cock digging into you. You placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, still in disbelief that this was happening.

“Remember when I said I could help you with this list doll?” He whispered into your ear, your face red with embarrassment. You slowly nodded, giving a small sound of agreement. “Do you want my help?” Negan inquired, his hands grabbing the round globes of your ass, emitting a slight whimper out of you at the rough touch of Negan. “Oh god yes, Negan please.” You softly spoke. “Gonna have to be quiet for me doll, wouldn’t want to get caught now would we?” Breathing heavily, your lips were caught by Negan in a deep kiss, your hands trailing from his shoulders to run through his hair. His hands gave another grab of your ass, more powerful, enough to leave red handprints.

“Shit doll, you don’t understand how long I’ve been waiting for this, you’re pretty ass parading around in this house, I can’t believe I haven’t gone fucking crazy.” He stated against your lips, his teeth coming down softly on your lower lip. You faintly moaned out at his confession, there was always some unspoken tension between you both, you just never thought it would come to this conclusion. You broke away from his kiss, fumbling to pull his shorts down to his ankles, lifting your lower half up to get them down successfully. His now fully erect cock gently slapped against his stomach, your hand coming down to smoothly wrap around the base of his cock, rubbing up and down. Negan let out a soft groan, his head falling back as he leaned into your hand, you made the move to the floor, up on your knees in front of him. “Oh shit honey, fuck, you are a dirty fucking girl.” He whispered out.

Your lips wrapped around his tip, peppering small kisses and kitten licks before you took it fully into your mouth, slowly working the top half of his cock. He opened his legs a little wider, allowing you to work further down as he thrusted his hips a little, causing you to gag ever so slightly. His shaft heavy on your tongue, the salty pre cum dancing on your tastebuds. A small trail of saliva leaking from your mouth, you felt your pussy getting slick with your juices, the ever growing danger of what you were doing turning you on more than you imagined.

A small creak caused your body to stop, a slight spark of adrenaline flowing through. Your mom had slightly moved from her sleeping position, turning to face the back end of the sofa. You waited for what felt like minutes, before you heard small snoring, affirmation to continue your illicit activity. Negan’s hip bucking ever so slightly, making his cock go further down your throat, you released him with a small pop, the gathered salvia making a bridge from his throbbing tip to your lips. Negan pulled you up, placing a sloppy kiss on your neck, regaining your position back on his thighs. “Shit doll, seeing you down there with a mouthful of my cock, fuck.” Negan mumbled against your neck, pulling your dress up and over your head, your arms reaching up to help.

Negan’s lips moved from your neck to the tops of your breasts, placing kisses while roughly grabbing them. The sensation alone causing you to feel tingles running through your body, he expertly unhooked the back of your bra, your breasts now free. He bit at your left nipple, sucking it slowly afterwards, his hands wandering from your breasts to your panties, pulling them to the side, exposing your pussy to the slight cold of the room. Goosebumps trailed down your arms and legs at the new feeling, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit. “You ready doll?” You enthusiastically moaned, grabbing the base of his cock to position it at your opening before slowly moving down, filling you inch by inch. You let out a moan at the fullness you felt, Negan’s hand coming up to grab your throat with slight pressure. “Fuck doll, those pretty noises are going to get us caught. You fit me like a fucking glove, so fucking tight.” Letting out a heavy sigh, Negan started to to move his hips, sliding in and out of you with slow strokes, filling you up even more.

Your hands met his shoulders again to steady yourself, your nails digging into them, a caught breath in your throat as the pressure on your neck got stronger. You met Negan’s thrusts, building in speed, strokes now hard and fast. “Shit baby, how’d you think your mother would feel if she woke up and saw you bouncing on daddy’s dick, huh?” You whimpered, the taboo nature of the whole situation caused you to grip your walls harder around his cock. “She’d be so upset daddy but you feel so fucking good inside me.”

“Damn right I do, doll.” You let out small breathless sighs, “Aw, is it too much for you to handle baby girl? Can’t take daddy’s dick as well as you’d like?” He taunted you as he thrust deeper into you. “No, I can handle it daddy. Fuck, you make me feel so fucking good!” You were getting so close, his cock coming into contact with your cervix it felt like. No one had ever made you feel this way, you thought you had died and gone to heaven. Negan could feel you clenching around his cock, knowing your release was close, he took his hand off your throat and began rubbing small, hard circles on your sensitive clit. You shallowly moaned and whimpered out, chanting daddy softly, your breath getting faster and shorter. “Go on baby, cum all over daddy’s dick.” You let your body go, your orgasm washing over your body, seeing stars behind your eyes. Body going limp, shaking as you rode out your high, the couch underneath you getting soaked with your juices, some coating Negan’s hand that was still playing with your clit.

The feeling of your orgasm caused a domino effect, Negan groaning as he came to climax as well, you felt the hot cum coating your walls, pulling out to finish, the last strips coating your lower abdomen. His fingers entered your mouth, tasting your release on your tongue, reigniting the fire you felt in your stomach.

You copied his motion, swiping the cum that settled on your naval, sucking off your fingers, the salty taste mixing with the aftertaste of yourself. Negan smirked, watching you intensely as your fingers came out of your mouth with a slight pop. A satisfied smile on your face, as you let your body flop down next to him, your mother still in deep sleep on the couch across the room. “Doll, I’m going to fucking miss you being gone, shit! We need to do that again sometime.” You giggled, bringing Negan into a kiss that showed him you felt the exact same.

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amber-tortoiseshell · 9 months ago

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A, B, C, D, E - Cat vs Rabbit

My comparative cat and rabbit color genetics post

Wild type (black agouti) rabbit and cat

My color genetics interest started out with rabbits, and while I know much more about cats now, they'll always have a spot in my heart...

In this post I'll go through the most important color genes, although sometimes I'll make comparisons based on phenotypes too.

All the photos are from the Warren Photographic Image Library.

A. Agouti

Both species have the dominant agouti (A) and the recessive self or nonagouti (a) alleles.

Black self rabbit and cat

Beyond these, cats add the charcoal (Apb) from the leopard cat, while rabbits have the otter or tan allele (at).

B. Brown

Black (B) as wild type, chocolate (b) as variant for both, and an extra recessive allele for cats: cinnamon (bl).

C. Color restriction

The most dominant allele of the series is the full color (C) for both species.

In rabbits the next is dark chinchilla (cchd), this gives the chinchilla and related colorations. Phenotypically basically the equivalent of silver tabbies in cats, despite silver (I) being a different gene. Chinchilla doesn't show up meaningfully on solid rabbits, so there's no smoke there.

Silver tabby cat and chinchilla rabbit. These are genetically very different colors, but manifest similarly: the animal loses the yellow-red pigments, and keeps the black.

The next rabbit allele in order of dominance is the sable or light chinchilla (cchl) which can be interpreted as the equivalent of sepia/burmese (cb) in cats, although they probably aren't the same mutation, because like the dark chinchilla allele above, sable has "silvering" effect on agoutis. Their shared characteristics are the slightly darker extremities and the intermediate interaction with the point allele.

Sable rabbit and sepia (or possibly mink) cat

The colorpoint pattern is also present in both animals under the names siamese (cs) and himalayan (ch). It manifests as pale body with dark extremities.

Pointed cat and rabbit

Edit: unfortunately I made a mistake here: while the color of this rabbit is indeed called point, it's not himalayan, it's nonagouti+sable+red. A real black himalayan rabbit looks like this:

Note the red eyes of the rabbit and the blue eyes of the cat - both suggest depigmentation.

Cats have a rare extra allele called mocha (cm).

And lastly, albino (c) is also present in both.

D. Dilute

Pretty much the same both genetically and in look. Dense (D) is dominant, diluted (d) is recessive.

Diluted (blue self) rabbit and cat

E. Extension

The mutations of this gene can be grouped into two categories:

increase of function: overproduction of black pigments. The animal is dark, melanistic. Dominant alleles.

loss of function: underproduction of black pigments. The animal is yellow/red. Recessive alleles.

Rabbits have two dominant alleles in the first group: full extension or dominant black (Ed) and steel (Es); cats have none. (Although this group isn't absent from the cat family either: black jaguars for example have a dominant black mutation.)

In the second group we have lots of different alleles: harlequin or japanese brindle (ej) and red (e) for rabbits, and amber, russet and copal/serdolik for cats (but their red is a different gene!). These all give different reddish phenotypes.

Red rabbit and cat - same name, similar color, different genetics.

The orange gene of the cats is an entirely different matter, and it's just a funny coincidence that harlequin rabbits look so similar to tortie cats. Brindle in rabbits is its own allele, not just the phenotype of the heterozygotes, and it's not sex-linked. Buck rabbits can be harlequins just as easily as does.

Harlequin rabbit and tortoiseshell cat - similar look, different name, different genetics

To make everything even more complicated, the word "tortoiseshell" (or shortly "tort") is used in rabbit breeding too, but it means a completely different thing than in cats: a nonagouti red. I assume because a nonagouti red rabbit (just like to the genetically very similar nonagouti amber cat) is darker than the agouti counterpart, especially on the extremities.

Tortoiseshell rabbit and cat - same name, different look, different genetics: bunny is a recessive homozygote for not sex-linked red, kitten is a heterozygote for sex-linked red.

+1. White spotting

Rabbits have three different white spotting genes: blue-eyed white or viennese, english and dutch. The latter two are strongly linked, the crossing over is rare. It's suspected that all three patterns are caused by mutations on the KIT gene. KIT is also the gene where all the so far known cat white spotting alleles: dominant white, white spotting and white gloving were mapped to.

Black dutch rabbit and black bicolor cat. They are remarkably similar, aren't they?

Summary:

#cats #rabbits #cat genetics #rabbit genetics #now that i'm thinking about this sepia tabbies are quite pale too #ugh i love genetics

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rose-arwen-padme · 2 months ago

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The Jedi Council waited respectfully so he could walk down the ship's ramp first.

Technically, the first boots that met the plaza floor were those of his new guard. New to him—not new to the position. Each of these stone-faced men was already tall, but the black plumes jetting out from their helmets added to their imposing frames. Neither the movement of their uniformed march nor the innocent wind could bend the stricken feathers. The uneducated eye would think these virile men in their metallic armor were the more formidable unit, in stark contrast to the variably aged Jedi Masters hanging behind in their soft, unassuming robes.

Their weapons were on full display. This was about presentation as much as it was about protection. The guards covered as much vertical air as the Neimoidians with their own high hats, yet in their bearing the sentries possessed none of the defeat or cowardliness.

He didn't look at the failed oppressors when he strolled right past them; there wasn't even an acknowledgment of their existence. Perhaps that should have been a sign, but clues are more difficult to spot when you aren't aware you should be looking for them. He was nothing but grins and celebration. Puffed sleeves swung left to right as he traveled forward. This was when he still infused his wardrobe with welcoming blues and browns in the fashion of Naboo's wealthiest—carryovers from decades spent representing them. Long fabrics in charcoal, black, and blood red came later.

I observed from afar as he cordially greeted Obi-Wan. The mild distance and the breeze prevented a clear listening, but I heard him say something about bravery. Then his eyes shifted to the blond-haired boy idling at the Jedi's hip. No amount of space between me and the trio could filter the beaming smile that spread till maxed, nor could I miss the way his eyes went from polite automation to enthralled.

Then I watched—as a pleased spectator to this event, and as a friend—when the new leader of the Galactic Republic placed his hand on Ani's shoulder. The boy was just as worthy of adoration and admiration as anyone, but I recognized what a special moment this was. Though he was so much more than his background, Ani was a former slave from the Outer Rim, only recently indoctrinated into our Republic's fold. Yet the Supreme Chancellor—the most powerful figure in the galaxy; a demon who knew exactly what he was doing—placed a hand of friendship and blessing on the very tunic Ani had worn in his slavery.

Claiming him. Publicly claiming him in front of all of us—the Jedi Council, Obi-Wan, and although I was the unexpected chess piece no one saw coming at the time, he even claimed Anakin right in front of me.

None of us realized what we had just witnessed. When we felt the breeze snake through our ranks, we never suspected it was Fate infiltrating the show. Brushing up against our shoulders. Whispering condolences behind our ears. I remember the weight of my black gown, donned for mourning. I remember the relief I felt at his victory with the Senate, though Naboo had already secured hers without it. I remember the paleness of his hand as it briefly rested next to the boy's tan neck. A bloodless beast touching the sun god heir.

Still grinning, he paraded next towards my group, success at his public and private triumphs electrifying his eyes. Congratulations were exchanged between us like tokens. He smiled at me, and he spoke pretty words for "peace" and "prosperity."

I smiled back and welcomed him inside the palace. Later that evening, we stood side-by-side as Qui-Gon Jinn burned.

If I'd known then what I know now, I would have run forward while Palpatine was still disembarking from the ship, put my body between him and Ani in order to shield the boy, and screamed.

Read more of Suppression, a fanfic telling the story of AOTC from Padmé’s POV, at Archive of Our Own.

#star wars #anidala #padme amidala #anakin skywalker #anakin and padme #attack of the clones #aotc #padme #sw prequels #the phatom menace #sw fic #star wars fanfiction #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #chancellor palpatine

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jupitermchai · 7 months ago

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NNT Pride Day One - Red

Hi folks!! This is my first entry for the NNT Pride event, albeit a little sad. I hope you enjoy, Happy Pride!!

the art of desire (my only desire is you)

It was like any other book. The leather-bound book stood perched on his desk among the many assignments Meliodas had yet to sign. On the outside it looked normal, and for a few weeks, Meliodas assumed it was any other book.

But when he opened the cover, he recognized the colorful pages immediately. It was his art book!

Oh, Meliodas hasn’t drawn in ages. The sight of the tanned leather made his heart leap, and he was perched on his desk seat in an instant. The assignments were discarded on the floor, left forgotten as Meliodas carded through his old drawings and sketches.

Most were of Elizabeth before their marriage but there were a couple landscapes sprinkled in: between his newly-wed wife and the land, Meliodas was more akin to the former.

He plucked a piece of charcoal from the desk drawer and flipped to the last page. It was empty, just as he remembered, and he readied the charcoal in his hands. Then, almost instantly, Meliodas was reminded of why he hadn’t drawn in so long.

Meliodas didn’t know what to draw. There were many things he could sketch: landscapes, his comrades, Elizabeth; nothing seemed to be fitting for the end of this sketchbook. Then, another realization dawned on him: looking through the worn pages was like reading a story. In the beginning, there was a family portrait of Meliodas’ family in the demon realm and closer to the end, there was a group portrait of all the sins. Meliodas tapped his chin in thought. He made up his mind on the matter - “This was a book that documents my life, after all” - and the charcoal finally began to move.

Soft scratches filled the room as the charcoal glided across the paper. Black bled onto the creamy sheets of parchment, outlining the curve of a face. The remaining sunlight cascaded like an orange blanket over the valley of Liones and poured into the room, illuminating the paper as he worked. Soon, the moon burst through the thicket of clouds as darkness washed over the plains. Crickets chirped in the blades of thick blue-grass, yet Meliodas surged forward. Planets collided in his mind. Colors and shapes molded to create perfect harmony filled with adoration.

Meliodas ran out of breath as he finished. Had he held his breath the entire time? The man couldn’t tell. Despite the tightness in his chest and the burning in his face, the blonde man lifted the book from the desk to examine the marked paper.

No words could describe the tingling in his fingertips as he stared at his work. It was Elizabeth, Tristan, and him, but the meaning was so much deeper than a family portrait. Each curve, line, and shadow displayed his unwavering fervor for the woman and child he held so dearly to his heart. Their smiles were real, this family was his new reality.

Choked by his own tears, Meliodas pushed away from his desk. The finality, the pure nature of this life, made Meliodas’ heart stutter. This was everything he had hoped for - she was everything he hoped for. The fleeting moments of pain during those thousands of years were worth it. This family was worth it.

Deep in dusk, the great King of Liones wept tears of joy, for his heart held nothing but pure, unfiltered love. For his country, but also for the time he spent fighting for those he loved.

#7ds #meliodas #nnt #oneshot #seven deadly sins #nanatsu no taizai #nntpride2024 #nntpride #writing #his passion is drawing guys

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literaryvein-reblogs · 7 months ago

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Writing Notes: On Colour

Describing Colour in your Poetry and Stories

BLACK Shadow Black, Dusk, Midnight, Blackbird, Blackberry, Ebony, Black Honey, Darkness, Jet Black, Ink Black, Soot, Onyx, Licorice, Ivory Black, Pitch, Char, Gloom, Outer Space, Creosote Black, Melanite, Goth Black, Gunpowder

BLUE Blueberry, Sapphire Blue Metallic, Tiffany Blue (Pantone 1837), Cobalt Blue, Denim, Aquamarine, Turquoise, Sky Blue, Topaz, Ultramarine Blue, Azure, Cerulean, Oxford Blue, Periwinkle, Electric Blue, Baby Boy Blue, Pthalo Blue, Robin's Egg Blue, Persian Blue, Marino Blue, Prussian Blue

GREEN Leafy Green, Olive, Moss Green, Jade, Lime, Sour Apple Green, Emerald Green, Mint, Kiwi Green, Phthalo Green, Praying Mantis Green, Viridian, Greenback, Shamrock, Sap Green, Chartreuse, Sea Green, Pistachio, Teal, Bamboo, Sea Salt, Celadon Green, Celery, Asparagus Green, Fern Green, Neon Green, Jungle Green, Pear Green

ORANGE Pumpkin, Burnt Orange, Carrot, Sunset Orange, Tangerine, Persimmon, Salamander, Tennessee Orange (Pantone 151), Jack-o'-lantern Orange, Florida Orange, Summer Squash, Pale Daffodil, Smashed Pumpkin, Saffron, Autumn Orange, Macaroni and Cheese, Cadmium Orange

PINK Pink Flamingo, Neon Pink, Bubblegum Pink, Salmon, Peach, Fuscia, Cotton Candy Pink, Rose, Carnation, Thulian, Apricot, Atomic Pink, Barbie Pink, Hot Pink, Amaranth, Flushed, Glitter Pink

PURPLE Lavender, Purple Haze, Grape, Eggplant Purple, Plum, Violet, Orchid, Psychedelic Purple, Amethyst, Lilac, Boysenberry, Mulberry, Wisteria, Bruised Plum, Indigo, Mauve

RED Blood Red, Copper, Maroon, Strawberry, Watermelon Red, Crimson, Candy Apple Red, Tomato, Brick Red, Scarlet, Cardinal Red, Cherry, Ruby Red, Coral, Sunburn, Hot Lava, Cadmium Red, Auburn, Blush, Alizarin Crimson, Fire Engine Red, Raspberry, Vermillion, Lipstick, Burgundy, Magenta, English Vermilion, Mahogany

WHITE Dirty White, Albino, Chalk, Alabaster, Cotton, Titanium White, Vanilla, Bone White Egg Shell, Marshmallow, Ivory, Pearl White, Almond, Champagne, Blond, Cream, Milky White, Corn Silk, Bleach, Navajo White, Ghost White, Light, Cloud White

YELLOW Canary Yellow, Lemon, Banana, Egg Yolk Yellow, Mellow Yellow, Chanterelle, Mustard Yellow, Corn, Goldenrod, Amber, Pineapple, Metallic Gold, Cadmium Yellow, Wheat, Tuscan Sun, Butter, School Bus Yellow, Yellow Ochre, Citron, Dandelion

BROWN Mud Brown, Beaver, Caramel, Rust, Macaroon, Toasty Brown, Coffee, Sandy Tan, Cocoa, Honey, Chocolate, Burnt Sienna, Mocha, Seashell, Antique Brass, Bronze, Brown Sugar, Chestnut Brown, Taupe, Burnt Umber, Khaki, Dark Sienna, Light Chocolate, Sepia

GRAY Stone Gray, Ash, Metallic Silver, Platinum, Smoke, Concrete Gray, Mercury, Steel Gray, Mist, Titanium, Charcoal, Slate, Sterling Silver, Tungsten, Old Coin Gray, Iron Gray, Chrome, Magnesium, Overcast

MIXED Candy Cane (red and white), Zebra (black and white), Chameleon (many different colours), Ladybug (black and red), Wildfire (yellow, orange and red), Tiger (orange, black and white), Yellow Jacket (black and yellow), Christmas Lights (red, white and green), Rainbow (red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet), Black Pepper (black and gray), Leopard (spotted gold and black), Creamsicle (orange and white), Candy Corn (orange and white), Iceberg (a bluish gray), Marbled

COLOURS: Symbolisms, Associations & Psychological Effects

Black. Especially in Gothic literature from the West, a black colour choice often represents death, evil, grief, and depression. Associated with fear, the unknown and often has a negative connotation. Black clothes can make you look thinner. A black background severely diminishes the readability of most type. Often the go to colour for funerals and grieving. It symbolizes stability and power, which gives a sense of authority. Thus, the black colour often represents professionalism and expertise.

Blue. Has positive and negative connotations in colour psychology. Some writers may use blue to represent serenity and tranquility, instilling a scene with a calming effect. Blue can also signify sadness, melancholy, or isolation. People who find someone very loyal and faithful are often called "true blue". Blue is often considered to be more masculine which is why it is often the colour of choice when choosing a suit. Lighter blues are associated with tranquility, softness and healing. Darker blues are associated with power, knowledge and seriousness. Blue is actually shown to suppress appetites a bit. The colour blue symbolizes wisdom and hope. It’s the colour of peace and confidence. Blue has been shown to reduce blood pressure and pulse rate. It fosters serenity and a sense of belonging.

Green. The colour green often symbolizes rebirth, growth, peace, jealousy, and greed. Green colours may also represent spring and renewal. It is a colour that is very easy on the eyes. Dark green is often associated with ambition. Green suggests stability, safety and hope. At the same time, it may denote a lack of experience in a particular field. Green symbolizes peace, growth, and nature. It is the colour of success, promoting healing and tranquility.

Orange. The colour orange often represents energy, excitement, joy, and creativity. Since orange is the colour of fire, it may also symbolize heat. Since orange is not as aggressive as red, it can actually stimulate brain activity. It is very useful to catch someone's attention, which is why it's used a lot to advertise food and toys.

Pink. The colour pink symbolizes love, kindness, femininity, innocence, and playfulness. Certain shades of pink can limit aggression. Pink may be associated with unconditional love and caring.

Purple. Often associated with royalty, the colour purple symbolizes bravery, spirituality, and luxury. Light purple usually brings up romantic or nostalgic feelings; while a darker shade can make you feel gloomy or sad.

Red. The colour red symbolizes some of the most powerful human emotions, like passionate love or lust. On the other side of the spectrum, this warm colour is also the colour of blood, often symbolizing anger, danger, and violence. It stimulates the appetite. Red is an emotionally intense colour associated with energy, danger, anger, passion and determination. The symbolic meaning associated with the colour red is passion, excitement, and love. It’s the colour of urgency, power, and desire. Red is said to boost hunger and is believed to inspire confidence and excitement. This colour has also been found to increase blood pressure and heart rate.

White. This primary colour traditionally symbolizes innocence, peace, and cleanliness. In Western cultures, the colour white also represents purity and virginity, while it symbolizes mourning in some East Asian cultures. Usually has positive connotations when used and thought of as safe. Associated a lot with healing, simplicity and sterility, which is why it's used in hospitals and healing centers as much as it is. The symbolic meaning of the colour white is truth and sometimes even indifference. It encourages feelings of safety and cleanliness. Clean, white clothes and linens show sterility since stains are easily visible. That’s why doctors and nurses frequently wear white lab coats and scrubs.

Yellow. Writers may use the colour yellow to symbolize creativity, happiness, optimism, and warmth—think of a yellow ray of sunlight poking out from a dark cloud. A common negative connotation of the color yellow is cowardice, popularized by the phrase “yellow-bellied.” Warming effect which stimulates body and mind. Gold is associated with the highest of luxury. When bright yellow is used with black it's one of the easiest colour combinations to see from long distances; when uses with lighter colours it's not so easy to see. Yellow ribbons are worn as a symbol of hope and used quite often to welcome home loved ones. Yellow is the colour of warmth, kindness, and happiness. It’s often associated with optimism and well-being and promotes energy.

Brown. This warm, earthy brown colour may symbolize dependability, comfort, and a sense of being grounded. Brown is also a neutral colour, and writers may use it to represent dullness and predictability. Brown is a colour that is related to very grounded traits such as simplicity, practicality, common sense and hard work. Can also be associated with those that are frugal and not too flashy.

Gray. Lighter grays are often thought of as more feminine while darker grays more masculine. Gray is considered by many to be a neutral colour; the perfect balance between light and dark / good and evil. Pop up the lighter grays and add a little shine to it, and thought immediately turns to silver, which correlates to wealth.

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b0rderbunny · 1 year ago

Text

☼MISSING YOU☼

A/N: i know i just disappeared but I'm back I've just been really busy and i've been helping my sister with the writing part of her comic but i thought id come back with some angst/no comfort. after this ill post some fluff promise!

Anyways here's a bandaid to help with the wounds this'll inflict.

(:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:★:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )

Fiance Tanjiro X Gender Neutral Reader

"My life is incomplete,

its missing you" -missing you (btob)

it was a beautiful day when he met you, it was sunny and a rainstorm had just passed the day before leaving a clear sky. it was nearing the end of october and winter was right around the corner maki9ng this the perfect day to sell charcoal before it got to cold.

tanjiro hiked down the mountain with his basket filled to the brim with charcoal ready to be sold. he was busy trying not to trip when heading down the creek until a overwhelming sweet scent entered his nose and he felt himself being toppled over into the water.

"oh crap i'm sososorry!" you said standing from the deep water to offer him a hand.

"are you hurt?" you asked as he just stared up at you in a daze.

to tanjiro it felt like a angel had fallen out of the sky rather than a clumsy teen who got lost in a forest, got scared, and accidentaly ran into a poor helpless boy.

"uh, are you good?" you asked again as he realized he was staring and snapped out of it. "i apologize i not hurt, thank you!" he said as he took your hand to stand. "don't apologize this is 100% my fault, i should've been watching where i was going" you said bowing at a perfect 50 degree angle as he sweat dropped.

"really its fine im not hurt at all" he said letting out a reassuring laugh as the tips of your ears turned red. "if there's anything i can do to apologize please let me know!" you yelled in embarrassment your entire face red.

"then can you tell me your name?" he asked offering his hand.

"huh? thats it? youre not gonna sell me to the cartel or anything right" you said exclaiming with your hands as he let out a laugh. "no i wouldnt" he said giving you a bright beaming smile.

"okay! ____ ______, im pleased to meet you!" you said taking his hand in yours. "tanjiro kamado, its nice to meet you too" he said a small blush spreading to his cheeks.

from that day forward a relationship like no other had blossomed.

tanjiro couldn't explain it but every time he was around you he got this fuzzy feeling in his stomach, he felt as if he was in complete and utter safety around you.

from the way you smiled, to the way you joked. he loved everything, he loved how your ears turned red when you were embarrassed. or how when you were angry you would turn a light shade of pink, the jokes you told.

he couldn't understand most of them but the way you would mutter them again to yourself and laugh had him smiling in pure joy.

he almost felt free around you.

sure he loved his family, but sometimes the pressure of being the oldest and breadwinner really put a lot on his shoulders. yet up until this point, he couldn't do much.

but when you came into his life you would pat him on the head, tell him good job when he completed something, always asking him how his day was going. tanjiro was so used to just bottling everything down that when he had someone who was constantly think of him, and only him he began to cry.

"tan tan, i don't know you get this alot but im really proud of you" you said as you played with his hair as you two sat on a tree trunk on the edge of the creek you two first met.

you continued even as you felt his shoulders stiffen a bit. "the way you're always there for your siblings and how you're always so kind is something i don't think i'd be able to do." you giggled. "sometimes i wonder if people ever let you know how much you mean to them, so i'm letting you know right now" you smiled as you wrapped your arms around his waist and placed your chin on his shoulder.

your eyes softened as the small tears trailed down his cheeks as you brought a hand to wipe them away.

"tanjiro kamado thank you for being such a bright star in this cruel world"

that was the night he confessed, where he told you how much he loved you, and to his shock, you loved him too.

the two of you were official, he had spent a small fortune on finding you the perfect ring, the best ring. and that's what he confessed with.

and finally it was the day for you to meet his family.

he had told you stories. on how takeo would get angry when he wasn't included in things. how shigeru and hanako would get into fights but forget about them within a minute. how rokuta was just now taking his first few steps and how his speech was increasing. and how nezuko was always helping out but also being a sense of comfort to all. and how even tho she was all alone his mother took care of most of the household even while sick.

from everything you had heard his family was absolutely lovely. and you hoped they would find you the same way.

and luckily, they adored you.

as soon as you walked through the door shigeru and hanako ran up to you and grabbed you by the legs excitedly asking if you were the person tanjiro was going to marry.

the entire day had gone by smoothly up until dinner time.

you sat next to tanjiro with baby rokuta in your lap after he refused to be let go, he weirdly grew fond of you quickly; not that you were complaining he was absolutely adorable. his mother was at your other side and nezuko, takeo, shigeru, and hanako where infront of you four.

"so ____" kie called out causing you to look up from baby rokuta who was babbling words you were trying to understand. "yes okasan?" you asked as she turned to face you. "do you like kids?" she asked with a smile as rokuta continued to play with your un occupied hand.

"uh huh! in the village i was from before i came here i helped out at a nursery so i gained a bit of experience in caring and bonding with children" you said as baby rokuta looked up to you with a innocent baby look before breaking out into a fit of giggles.

a chorus of 'aww's went around the room as the baby happily babbled away.

"i hope you and tanjiro give me some grandbabies soon seeing as this one is already growing to fast" kei said out loud causing a angry red blush to spread to both you and tanjiros cheeks as both kei and nezuko laughed leaving the other two children confused.

"m-mom!" tanjiro stuttered the blush deepening as she continued laughing.

oh such happy memories.

sadly, you and tanjiro wouldn't be able to make more.

that night you had stayed over and were going to leave 3 days from then, sadly that would never happen.

the day after returning home from selling charcoal tanjiro sped up at the smell of blood.

the smell of blood, coming from his home.

a massacre had happened.

kei and hanako laid against the door frame to the kitchen eyes closed, pale faces covered in blood.

shigeru and takeo lying motionless on the floor eyes stuck open in terror. and in the entrance door frame layed nezuko, rokuta, and you.

all presumably dead.

the only one who lived was nezuko, yet his sister became a demon. the very thing that had killed his family and the love of his life.

"Muzan Kibutsuji! No matter where you go, you're not getting away! I'll follow you to the ends of Hell, and I swear I'll slice your head with my blade! I'll never forgive you no matter what!"

and he never will.

muzan kibutsujii will pay, for taking his past and present. but also for taking his future.

that night before he left he remembered the conversation you two had.

"hey tantan" you said sitting on the futon beside his, his mother had provided you with as you ran the brush through your hair.

"yes ____?" he asked with that sweet and kind voice looking up at you with his soft red eyes full of love and adoration.

"have you ever heard of demons?" you asked pressing your finger against your lips as if you were telling a secret. "demons?" he was confused why were you bringing this up?

"yeah like scary man eaters" you said emphasizing your point by putting your fingers against your head like devil horns,

with a laugh he grabbed your hands and pulled them down to hold them in his.

"no i haven't, why?" he asked curious as to why you would ask.

"no reason, i just heard they're sUper scary" you said emphasizing on the u in super.

"well you don't have to worry because demons arent real, and even if they were..." he trailed off a small blush covering his cheeks as he looked up into your eyes. "..i would make sure to protect you and make sure you didn't get hurt.: he mumbled shyly as you stared at him in awa before you smiled.

"i know!"

"god ____, i'm so sorry" he whispered small tears falling, yet this time there was no one to wipe them.

A/N Am i sorry? idk anyways goodnight i have classes in 3 hours and i have been procrastinating school work so until next week! Bye Bye!

#tanjiro kamado #kny tanjirou #kimetsu no yaiba #kny fluff #kny angst #hurt/no comfort #tw death #tanjiro x reader #demon slayer tanjiro #gender neutral reader #no use of y/n #angst no happy ending #sad fic #demon slayer

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