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#security system experts

sayruq · 3 months

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As Gaza spirals toward full-scale famine, displaced civilians and health workers told CNN they go hungry so their children can eat what little is available. If Palestinians find water, it is likely undrinkable. When relief trucks trickle into the strip, people clamber over each other to grab aid. Children living on the streets, after being forced from their homes by Israel’s bombardment, cry and fight over stale bread. Others reportedly walk for hours in the cold searching for food, risking exposure to Israeli strikes. Even before the war, two out of three people in Gaza relied on food support, Arif Husain, the chief economist at the World Food Programme (WFP), told CNN. Palestinians have lived through 17 years of partial blockade imposed by Israel and Egypt. Israel’s bombardment and siege since October 7 has drastically diminished vital supplies in Gaza, leaving the entire population of some 2.2 million exposed to high levels of acute food insecurity or worse, according to the Integrated Food Security and Nutrition Phase Classification (IPC), which assesses global food insecurity and malnutrition. Martin Griffiths, the UN’s emergency relief chief, told CNN the “great majority” of 400,000 Gazans characterized by UN agencies as at risk of starving “are actually in famine.” UN human rights experts have warned “Israel is destroying Gaza’s food system and using food as a weapon against the Palestinian people.”

#yemen #jerusalem #tel aviv #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #news update #war news #war on gaza #famine #genocide #gaza genocide

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professorcalculusstanaccount · 1 month

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"But don't let its beauty fool you. This plant can be processed into a powerful neurotoxin which can cause near permanent madness unless treated!"

Professor Calculus, upon developing a state-of-the-art automated hydroponics and pesticides delivery system, has been invited to judge a prestigious international flower show at the largest botanical garden in Belgium.

Botany experts and amateurs from around the world attend - Professor Zalamea is there to showcase his bizarre genetically modified bioluminescent blue oranges, Nash is displaying some of his explorations into living sculpture, and Castafiore is geared up to perform in the evening. Most controversially of all, Professor Fang Hsi Ying, a world leading expert on mental health, is showcasing his research on the Rajaijah plant, a plant historically used to produce madness poison.

It's this exhibit that causes a stir at the event. Security is on high alert. After the poison was used a few years ago in several high profile drug smuggling cases that were embroiled in politics, the plant is anticipated to be a subject of fear and Orientalism. Protestors calling for its destruction flock the event, and there are rumours of a plot to steal the rare plant. The organisers hope that the controversy will generate ticket sales and revenue.

Tintin and Chang are there to report on the goings on, having just confessed their feelings for each other. They're not sure what they are just yet - but even without a madness poison, Tintin's head is in a spin!

I had the idea to bring back Rajaijah juice for some time and was intially going to set it at a garden party, but I received this message from anon some time ago:

And I just loved the Drama of a botanical garden a whole lot more!

Because of the time it takes for me to make stuff and the planning that goes into my posts I do take a very long time to respond to messages, and sometimes multiple people send similar messages anticipating stuff I already have planned, so if I come across as standoffish I apologise, I just have a lot on my plate (by my own design tbh)!

I love every message I receive, I started this blog intending to respond to every message but that's becoming unrealistic ;_; I keep your messages to read back whenever I need motivation, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you if you've sent me an ask!

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zvaigzdelasas · 3 months

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[NewYorkTimes is Private US Media]

Over the past month, we’ve watched an astonishing, high-stakes global drama play out in The Hague. A group of countries from the poorer, less powerful bloc some call the global south, led by South Africa, dragged the government of Israel and, by extension, its rich, powerful allies into the top court of the Western rules-based order and accused Israel of prosecuting a brutal war in Gaza that is “genocidal in character.”

The responses to this presentation from the leading nations of that order were quick and blunt.

“Completely unjustified and wrong,” said a statement from Rishi Sunak, Britain’s prime minister.

“Meritless, counterproductive and completely without any basis in fact whatsoever,” said John Kirby, a spokesman for the United States National Security Council.

“The accusation has no basis in fact,” a German government spokesman said, adding that Germany opposed the “political instrumentalization” of the genocide statute.

But on Friday, that court had its say, issuing a sober and careful provisional ruling that doubled as a rebuke to those dismissals. In granting provisional measures, the court affirmed that some of South Africa’s allegations were plausible and called on Israel to take immediate steps to protect civilians, increase the amount of humanitarian aid and punish officials who engaged in violent and incendiary speech. The court stopped short of calling for a cease-fire, but it granted South Africa’s request for provisional measures to prevent further civilian death. For the most part, the court ruled in favor of the global south.[...]

The court was not asked to rule on whether Israel had in fact committed genocide, a matter that is likely to take years to adjudicate. Whatever the eventual outcome of the case, it sets up an epic battle over the meaning and values of the so-called rules-based order. If these rules don’t apply when powerful countries don’t want them to, are they rules at all?

“As long as those who make rules enforce them against others while believing that they and their allies are above those rules, the international governance system is in trouble,” Thuli Madonsela, one of South Africa’s leading legal minds and an architect of its post-apartheid Constitution, told me. “We say these rules are the rules when Russia invades Ukraine or when the Rohingya are being massacred by Myanmar, but if it’s now Israel butchering Palestinians, depriving them of food, displacing them en masse, then the rules don’t apply and whoever tries to apply the rules is antisemitic? It is really putting those rules in jeopardy.”[...]

The military campaign has “wreaked more destruction than the razing of Syria’s Aleppo between 2012 and 2016, Ukraine’s Mariupol or, proportionally, the Allied bombing of Germany in World War II,” the report quoted researchers as saying. The researchers, hardly some raving left-wing activists, are experts cited in one of the most respected news organizations in the world, The Associated Press.[...]

The International Court of Justice issued a nonbinding opinion in 2004 that the security barriers Israel was erecting in the West Bank violated international law, but that ruling has had no effect. The walls still stand.[...]

Indeed, what is a rules-based system if the rules apply only selectively and if seeking to apply them to certain countries is viewed as self-evidently prejudiced? To put it more simply, is there no venue in the international system to which the stateless people of Palestine and their allies and friends can go to seek redress amid the slaughter in Gaza? And if not, what are they to do?

For the cause of Palestinian statehood, every alternative to violence has been virtually snuffed out, in part because Israel’s allies have helped to discredit them. The most recent example is the boycott, divestment and sanctions movement that has, in many places, been successfully tarred as antisemitic or even banned altogether. Efforts to use the United Nations Security Council have drawn U.S. vetoes for decades. Is seeking redress at the appropriate venue for alleged violations of international law also antisemitic, as Israel’s defense minister said on Friday? Does no law apply to Israel? Are there no limits to what it may do to defend itself?[...]

The Biden administration has made the shoring up of the international rules-based order a centerpiece of its foreign policy but, unsurprisingly, has struggled to live up to that aspiration.[...]

Occasionally straying from your principles because circumstances require it is very different from being seen to have no principles at all, and that is precisely how much of the global south has come to regard the United States.

It seems especially shortsighted in these times that the Biden administration elected to wave away the carefully documented case prepared by South Africa. One of the biggest threats to the rules-based international order is the growing consensus in the poor world that the rich world will apply those rules selectively, at its discretion, when it suits the powerful nations that make up the global north, such as when Russia invaded Ukraine.[...]

As far as the rules-based order is concerned, when it comes to crimes like genocide and ethnic cleansing, it simply does not matter who started it. [...] The best way to shore up the rules-based order is to be seen, in word and deed, as committing to the institutions and moral commitments of that order.

28 Jan 24

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headspace-hotel · 1 year

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So I'm absolutely not an expert on the subject, and this post is just a bunch of thoughts I've been turning over in my head a lot, but: on the subject of Industrial Agriculture, the Earth's carrying capacity, and agroforestry

Writings from people who propose policy changes to secure the future of Earth treat energy use by organisms in (what seems to me like) the most infuriatingly presumptive, simplistic terms and I don't know why or what's wrong or what I'm missing here.

Humans have to use some share of the solar energy that reaches Earth to continue existing.

The first problem is when writers appear to assume that our current use of solar energy via the agricultural system (we grow plants that turns the light into food.) already is maximally efficient.

The second problem is when writers see land as having one "use" that excludes all other uses, including by other organisms.

The way i see it, the thing is, we learned how to farm from natural environments. Plant communities and farms are doing the same thing, capturing energy from the Sun and creating biomass, right? The idea of farming is to make it so that as much as possible of that biomass is stuff that can be human food.

So instead of examining the most efficient crops or even the most efficient agricultural systems, I think we need to examine the most efficient natural ecosystems and how they do it.

What I'm saying is...in agricultural systems where a sunbeam can hit bare dirt instead of a leaf, that's inefficiency. In agricultural systems where the nutrients in dead plant matter are eroded away instead of building the soil, that's inefficiency. Industrial agriculture is hemorrhaging inefficiency. And it's not only that, it's that industrial agriculture causes topsoil to become degraded, which is basically gaining today's productivity by taking out a loan from the future.

I first started thinking about this with lawns: a big problem with monocultures is ultimately that they occupy a single niche.

In the wild, plant communities form layers of plants that occupy different niches in space. So in a forest you have your canopy, your understory, your forest floor with herbaceous plants, and you have mosses and epiphytes, and basically if any sunbeams aren't soaked up by the big guys in the canopy, they're likely to land on SOME leaf or other.

Monocultures like lawns are so damn hard to sustain because they're like a restaurant with one guy in it and 20 empty tables, and every table is loaded with delicious food. And right outside the restaurant is a whole crowd of hungry people.

Once the restaurant is at capacity and every table is full, people will stop coming in because there's no room. But as long as there's lots of room and lots of food, people will pour in!

So a sunny lawn has lots of food (sunlight) and lots of room (the soil and the air above the soil can fit a whole forest's worth of plant material). So nature is just bombing that space with aggressive weeds non-stop trying to fill those niches.

A monoculture corn field has a lot of the same problems. It could theoretically fit more plants, if those plants slotted into a niche that the corn didn't. Native Americans clear across the North American continent had the Three Sisters as part of their agricultural strategy—you've got corn, beans, and squash, and the squash fits the "understory" niche, and the corn provides a vertical support for the beans.

We dump so many herbicides on our monocultures. That's a symptom of inefficient use of the Sun, really. If the energy is going to plants we can't eat instead of plants we can, that's a major inefficiency.

But killing the weeds doesn't fully close up that inefficiency. It improves it, but ultimately, it's not like 100% of the energy the weeds would be using gets turned into food instead. It's just a hole, because the monoculture can't fulfill identical niches to the weeds.

The solution—the simple, brilliant solution that, to me, is starting to appear common throughout human agricultural history—is to eat the weeds too.

Dandelions are a common, aggressive weed. They're also an edible food crop.

In the USA, various species of Amaranth are our worst agricultural weeds. They were also the staple food crop that fed empires in Mesoamerica.

Purslane? Edible. Crabgrass? Edible.

A while back I noticed a correlation in the types of plants that don't form mycorrhizal associations. Pokeweed, purslane, amaranth—WEEDS. This makes perfect sense, because weeds are disaster species that pop up in disturbed soil, and disturbed soil isn't going to have much of a mycorrhizal network.

But, you know what else is non-mycorrhizal? Brassicas—ie the plant that humans bred into like 12 different vegetables including broccoli and brussels sprouts.

My hypothesis is that these guys were part of a Weed Recruitment Event wherein a common agricultural weed got domesticated into a secondary food crop. I bet the same thing happened with Amaranth. I bet—and this is my crazy theory here—I bet a lot of plants were domesticated not so much based on their use as food, but based on their willingness to grow in the agricultural fields that were being used for other crops.

So, Agroforestry.

Agroforestry has the potential for efficiency because it's closer to a more efficient and "complete" plant community.

People keep telling me, "Food forests are nowhere near as efficient as industrial agriculture, only industrial agriculture can feed the world!" and like. Sure, if you look at a forest, take stock of what things in it can be eaten, and tally up the calories as compared to a corn field (though the amount of edible stuff in a forest is way higher than you think).

But I think it's stupid to act like a Roundup-soaked corn field in Kansas amounts to the pinnacle of possible achievement in terms of agricultural productivity. It's a monoculture, it's hard to maintain and wasteful and leaves a lot of niches empty, and it's destroying the topsoil upon which we will depend for life in the future.

I think it's stupid to act like we can guess at what the most efficient possible food-producing system is. The people that came before us didn't spend thousands of years bioengineering near-inedible plants into staple food crops via just waiting for mutations to show up so that we, possessing actual ability to alter genes in a targeted way, could invent some kind of bullshit number for the carrying capacity of Earth based on the productive capability of a monoculture corn field

Like, do you ever think about how insane domestication is? it's like if Shakespeare's plays were written by generation after generation of people who gave a bunch of monkeys typewriters and spent every day of their lives combing through the output for something worth keeping.

"How do we feed the human race" is a PAINFULLY solvable problem. The real issue is greed, politics, and capitalism...

...lucky for us, plants don't know what those things are.

#plants #thoughts #plantposting #ecology

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sprout-fics · 11 months

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dunno if imissed thurs thots bc time zone is an arse but i pilled an allnighter and needed some smit to keep going bc coffeee aint doing it job anymore so heres a copy paste of my idea from when i was actuallyawake

hallo! so taking a page from the spider verse movie, what if reader did yell out a safeword? there is an “aftercare for a red moment” hole in the fic community (or im just blinded by the algorithm who knows)

So this is a really interesting concept, and also a good way to discuss proper sex practices, so thank you anon!

For those unaware, the color system (Green, yellow, red) is typically associated with BDSM practices. Green is all clear, yellow is slow down/change tactics, and red is full stop, change into aftercare mode. However this system is not exclusively designed for kink related practices, it can be a useful tool for even vanilla sex. Please remember to always check in with your partners and obtain enthusiastic consent before engaging in sexual activities. I am not an expert in this area, so please remember to do your own independent research if you are curious about this topic.

(Warning: Uncomfortable sexual scenarios and use of safe words, please read at your own discretion)

The Color Red

(TF 141 reacting to you using a safe word during sex)

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

You’re not really sure what does it, but something inside you drops abruptly, without warning as Soap’s hand wraps around your throat.

There’s not even any pressure, just a heavy grasp that circles under your jaw but it’s enough to make something in you rise in panic, blood chilling and breath seizing inside your chest

He’s still hunches over you, your legs wrapped around his hips, brow scrunched in pleasure, voice dragging as he tries to angle himself just right to graze against the soft spongy part of you he knows will make you go boneless in his arms

Whatever pleasure was tightening low across your hips dies as a cold, fearful wash of dread takes its place, the world spinning as you drop fast.

“Red.” You croak, voice trembling, abruptly, entire body going rigid with panic.

It’s over in an instant. Soap knows what the word means, is trained to respond at the first instinct of discomfort, and within a blink his hand is gone, his weight off of you

You curl over onto your side, eyes wide and shoulders trembling, wetness still on the inside of your thighs but air rising sharply as hyperventilation threatens to take over

Soap’s weight is off the bed, giving you space, but when he notices your breathing he kneels beside you at once, eyes brimming with worry

“Hen, sweetheart, it’s alright.” He coos softly, words echoing as a steady stream, a reminder to his nearby presence. “You’re safe, we’re done. Breathe for me, You’re alright.”

“Johnny.” You gasp, reaching for him, and he obliges instantly, maneuvering you both so he sits against the headboard and puts your head into his lap, positioning a pillow underneath it.

“I’m here.” He reminds you, a hand stroking along your shoulder in soothing circles as you try to control your breathing, listening to him breathe alongside you. Deep inhale, hold for 4, out for 7. Repeat.

“What do you need, hen?” He asks after a few minutes, after the panic has faded to a dull bite, once you stop shuddering and instead curl into an exhausted heap at his side.

You sigh out a shuddering exhale, feel his thumb graze across the top of your shoulder. Gentle, patient, devoted.

“You, Johnny.” You tell him at last. “Just you.”

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

“Red.”

You gasp it out unexpectedly in Gaz’s bed, hands secured above your head as he bends over you, three fingers curling inside you, smug smile plastered over his face as he tries to wring another orgasm from you despite you telling him you can’t, and him finding another, another anyways

Now, however, it’s finally too much, and when he presses just right the sensation it summons is less pleasurable and more aching, stretching an overworn muscle that leaves something twisting unpleasantly inside you

“Oh shit, doll.” He gasps at the word, and slowly withdraws his fingers to not cause you additional discomfort. You whine, but the sound catches in your throat, pleading and tender. “I’m sorry, shh, take a breath for me.”

He reaches up above you, pulls at the rope and it comes loose easily, allows your hands to sink into the pillows and reduces the strain on your shoulders.

“Hey, hey, I got you.” He murmurs as you shudder, face contorting at the unpleasant ache inside you

He drags you into his arms, and you don’t complain at all, curling into his steady frame as he tucks you against his chest

“You did good.” He tells you at once, reassuring, gentle. “Promise you did good. Just take your time.”

You nuzzle against the coarse, curly hair of his chest, feel him stroke a hand against your back as the ache inside you dies to a low murmur

“I’m okay.” You tell him after a few minutes, taking all the time you need to fully relax into his embrace “It just…it was so much.”

Kyle exhales then, a breath you didn’t realize had been holding. His form goes a little lax against you, relieved by your words

“I’m sorry, doll.” He tells you at once. “I should have stopped sooner.”

You shake your head a little, remind him gently “That’s what the colors are for. I’m alright, just-” and you wince. “Tender.”

You feel him smile into your hair, mouth tugging just an inch, his body warm, solid, reaffirming against yours

“We can fix that.” He tells you softly. “How about I run you a bath and get you cleaned up, hmm?”

You nod, pause, and then crane your head up to plant a kiss against his lips

“Sounds wonderful.”

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Sex with Simon can usually be an intense, emotional affair, an experience where you try and carve space within each other through touch, seeking a balm to the brokenness, soothing to the fear and hurt

Yet there are also times when you both just need release

Which is where you are now, face down, his hands hauling yours behind your back, hips slapping against your pelvis with a rapid, brutal intensity that’s going to leave you pleasantly sore for days

His voice is a grinding, rumbling presence that doesn’t allow you to drift entirely off, forcing you back into the presence of him. A hand tangles in your hair, presses you down into the sheets as he growls lewd, filthy praise down at you

Yet there’s a hint of malice to it, and normally you’d welcome it, send it right back to him, teeth bared and spirit a bright flame that burns against his darkness

Now, however, each word seems to puncture through you, as he hisses ‘Slut. Pretty little whore.’ down at you

You want to take it, want it to feed the coiling need as he buries himself inside you, but tonight it sounds almost like Simon means it.

It hurts.

It forces you to drop so fast it gives you whiplash, mind reeling and you have to remind yourself to say the word that bleeds across your tongue.

“Red.”

Simon stops instantly, removes his hand from your hair like he’s been burned.

You barely even notice, caught in your own turmoil of thoughts, trying to find your way out of the labyrinth. You don’t even notice as he pulls out from you, but the sudden emptiness only feeds the fall, makes a sob curl in your throat as you try and fail to swallow it down

He’s gone from the bed, you notice, and if anything it makes you panic more.

“S-Simon.” He try, voice wavering, and as if you’ve summoned him he appears back at your side, his voice gentler now but strained, guilty

“Here, pet.” A hand against your spine, a feathering touch given only as a mild offering before you give him permission to touch you, to which you gasp “Please.”

The touch becomes firmer, fingers pulling at the rigidness coiled in your frame, and after a moment there’s the cool touch of a washcloth that wipes the sweat from your skin.

“Y-you didn’t mean it, did you?” You try at last, not moving yet, knowing he’d only hush you back into stillness, make sure you didn’t push yourself too fast too soon

Simon takes a moment to process, realization washing over him at why you invoked your color.

“No, never.” He tells you, voice a little distant, and you know the faint unhappiness that colors his own voice isn’t for you but for him, tearing at himself for causing you hurt

You take care of him too, knot your fingers between his in tender reassurance, reminding him that even as he hovers at your side, you stay beside him too

Captain John Price

You’re trying to soldier through it, the pain that wraps around your thigh as he hauls it over his shoulder, braces it on the broad planes of his frame

Your hands are fisted in the sheets, chest heaving as Price forces his tongue into your cunt, fingers digging red marks into your opposite leg. There’s pleasure coiling n your core with every stripe of his tongue, dragging whimpering moans from your throat

It’s soured, however, by the wrapping on your thigh, the stitched bullet hole radiating pain. The sharp ache drowns any potential pleasure that rises inside you and you try to grit your teeth against it, force it down in pursuit of the warmth of price’s breath against your folds

You can’t. You can’t do it, not with tears beginning to well in your eyes and the sounds coming from transitioning into whimpers of pain.

“John.” You manage, strained, and for a moment Price is so absorbed in his task he almost doesn’t hear you. “J-John, red. Red.”

Price’s head shoots up, his ears attuned to that word specifically, and when he does you see slick coating his chin, his eyes flickering brightly in worry.

A sob bursts from your chest at the sight, dragging with pain, eyes hot and wet as you press a hand to the red blossoming bandage.

He surmises the situation quickly, and instantly he’s rising off you, nearly vanishing from you entirely, giving you a bit of space before sitting back down beside you and gently bending your leg onto his lap

“Shh, it’s alright love.” He reassures you, a hand reaching up to stroke at your sweaty forehead, against your brow bunched in worry. “I’ve got you, you’re alright.”

“I’m sorry.” You blurt out even as his fingers knead into your calf. “I didn’t- it hurts.”

“Never apologize for using your colors.” The captain tells you sternly, and he holds your eyes on him, levying you with a disciplining stare that ensures your compliance. You nod, sniffling, and it makes some of the grimness melt from his eyes, tendered with affection

“Where are your pain meds?” He asks then, a hand gently tracing over the bloodied bandage, and you nod to the bedside drawer.

He nods absently, one hand still braced on your leg, the other reaching past you to withdraw the bottle from the assembly of items there

“You’re going to take these.” He tells you without question, drawing your gaze back to him once more. “We’ll get you cleaned up, and then get something warm in your stomach so they go down sunny, yes?”

You sniffle and nod at him, still feeling a little embarrassed, still in pain. Yet it’s softer now with his touch as his eyes turn to you fondly.

“Might even get you some hair of the dog for good measure.” He offers, and it at last summons a shy but warm smile from you

------

Again, if your partner every signals they are uncomfortable during sex, stop, talk, and proceed as needed. If anyone ever disrespects you signaling you are uncomfortable or blatantly ignores your safeword, do not engage with them further. Stay safe, stay sane, and stay consensual

#simon ghost riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain john price x reader #cod imagines #fucking outing myself with this post rip #Minors I will fucking steal your kneecaps don't even fucking look at this post I will block you at lightspeed #mdni #18 + only #minors do not interact #minors dni #my writing #my headcanons #blank blogs dni #don't ask me how I know this I've spent too much time researching #also before you ask yes all the cod men respect safewords that's not even a question

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projectionistwrites · 1 year

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FOR SCIENCE | SUBJECT 2

In which the Moon Knight alter system presents a unique opportunity to settle the nature versus nurture debate, once and for all...

Marc Spector x afab!psychologist!reader (11.0k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: fetishization of mental disorders (DID), psychoanalysis, potentially unethical scientific practices, SMUT (dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (f! and m!receiving), unprotected p in v sex, squirting, creampie, bondage, intense edging, reader is very mean, facesitting/riding, 69ing, praise kink, dirty talk, use of the stoplight system) NOTES: time for everyone’s favorite babygirl. again, i really hope i did marc’s character justice. also, you can’t tell me marc wouldn’t look so pretty crying for you. i kinda went feral on this one. <3 DISCLAIMER: although i’m incredibly knowledgeable about psychology, i am NOT a professional. all psychoanalyses made throughout the course of this storyline are entirely my own, based on my own interpretations of the characters. in a similar vein, i am also not an expert on DID specifically (although i am well-read on mental disorders and diagnoses), so i apologize for any incorrect terminology or misrepresentation. don’t hesitate to call me out if i say something wrong!

← previous part | next part →

CASE STUDY: MARC SPECTOR

ROLE IN COGNITIVE SYSTEM: Host / Apparently Normal Part

ATTACHMENT STYLE: Fearful

CHARACTERISTICS: cocksure, standoffish, pensive, calculating; resilient to a fault; views himself as irredeemable in the face of his past, unworthy of forgiveness or compassion; must be in control of every situation in order to feel secure.

SPLIT FROM HOST: N/A

TRAUMA RESPONSE: tendency to run when facing emotionally distressing situations

SEXUAL PRESENTATION: dominant, assertive, deliberate, practiced, indulgent; derives majority of satisfaction from his ability to draw pleasure from his partner; cognitive blockages that are reminiscent of self-sabotage (undeserving of release or pleasure).

“You’re early, Doc.”

Marc teased—he was leaning against the doorframe with a smug smirk on his face, successfully blocking your entrance into his flat. You felt your face heat up beneath his devious gaze.

“I know.”

Your words were softer than you’d intended them to be, more hesitant—Marc’s eyes narrowed at your wavery response.

He wordlessly stepped to the side, allowing you to finally slip past him and into the threshold of the apartment. You paused in the entrance as the door clicked shut behind Marc. He narrowly avoided colliding into your form as he turned, his arms jutting out to brace himself against you to prevent either of you from stumbling. His hands gripped your biceps, his chest pressed against your back. Your body tensed under his touch, and he let out a low chuckle, slipping past you and further into the space.

“Jesus, you’re touchy today. Everything okay?”

He leaned back against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest as he studied you. The movement was so easy, so casual and relaxed, as if this was just like any other time you’d hung out at his place—as if you weren’t there just to get into his pants. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you glanced down at your worn sneakers. It felt...different, this time. With Steven, you knew there would be a learning curve for both of you. You knew that, to some extent, you would be the one calling the shots, making Steven feel safe and comfortable. But now...you were intimidated. And ashamed to admit it.

You must’ve been quiet a beat too long, because the next second, Marc was in front of you, standing toe-to-toe. When you didn’t meet his eyes, his left hand came to nudge your chin upward, forcing your gaze upon him. You gulped, but his dark eyes were softened with concern.

“Hey. You gotta talk to me, Y/N. What’s on your mind?”

You blew out a breath.

“No, it’s nothing, I’m just—”

“—nervous?”

Marc finished for you, and you squeezed your eyes shut in an effort to prevent yourself from seeing the satisfied look on his perfect face.

“Yes, Marc, laugh it up. I’m nervous.”

“Hey, I didn’t even—”

“Yeah, but you were gonna.”

You snapped with a glare, but you felt guilt punch through your gut when a look of hurt crested Marc's features. You sighed.

“Shit, Marc, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“I am, too, you know.”

You blinked once, then twice.

“You’re...what?”

He rolled his eyes, huffing out a bitter, humorless laugh, as if he thought you were toying with him. When he saw the genuine confusion on your face, he threw his head back with a groan.

“You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

Your eyes narrowed, but when you finally realized what he meant, you felt a small smile creep onto your face.

“Wait—you’re nervous?”

Marc shrugged sheepishly, and you could see a bit of color rise to his cheeks—was he blushing?

“You’re telling me—Marc Spector is nervous?”

“Yeah, and who’s laughing it up, now?”

He quirked a brow, giving you an accusatory look, and you giggled at him, the tension melting away from your body easily.

“I’m not laughing at you, Marc, I’m just—why would you be nervous? Especially around me?”

He shook his head at you incredulously, taking a few steps closer. You felt your back press up against the door behind you, successfully trapping you in Marc's vicinity.

“S’that so hard to believe? A pretty girl like you, coming over to study how I am in bed—even if it’s just for science?”

Marc wiggled his brows theatrically, and you laughed again, shaking your head. Still, there was blood pumping loud in your ears as he spoke, and you could feel electricity crackle in the air between you, charged with energy.

“Yeah, for science. But—you have pretty girls over all the time to see how you are in bed.”

“Yeah, but s’never been you, has it?”

The words were barely audible, muttered lowly beneath his breath, but you felt your jaw slacken at his quiet confession. Your eyes flitted up to his, and there was that cheeky, self-satisfied grin on his face again—fuck, he was too handsome, you just wanted to—

“Can I just fuckin’ kiss you, already?”

He was close, now, his warm exhales mingling with your own. His brown eyes glittered onyx as he drank you in, lips parted just slightly, the tip of his nose barely brushing your own. You felt faint, the proximity dizzying as temptation sank its teeth into your flesh. With the faintest nod of your head, Marc took the plunge.

You’d never had a kiss quite like this one before. Of course, Steven’s was great, but it was exactly what you’d expected—a desperate clash of teeth and tongue, the two of you battling your insecurities to fall into a steady rhythm. But this—this was fucking special. Marc’s hand slipped behind your head to thread through your hair, his other arm looping around your waist to pull you flush against him. You were frankly surprised at the tenderness with which his lips found yours, starting with a barely-there brush of his mouth. It was sweet, and raw, intimate, and you felt his lashes flutter against your cheek when he pulled away too soon.

You were breathless, your face following his as he drew back, desperate to maintain the contact. He chuckled at this, but remained close, eyes finding yours again.

“Still nervous?”

He asked, his voice low and gravelly. His eyes seemed darker as he smirked down at you, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Your eyes flitted down to his mouth, your breath catching in your lungs at the sight. Something resembling a squeak involuntarily escaped your throat.

“Marc. Please.”

You whined, big doe-eyes glimmering, and Marc scrunched his face up as though he was in pain, eyes squeezed shut tight as he groaned. He rested his forehead against yours.

“Shit. You really gonna make it that easy for me, baby?”

He practically hissed, and a breathy laugh blew past your lips. Marc captured your mouth with his again, harder this time, the hand that was in your hair reached up to brace himself against the door above your head, successfully caging you in. You hummed against him as his tongue passed through the seam of your lips, sinking into you further. Your desperate hands reached up and clawed at his chest, gripping the navy blue fabric of his cotton t-shirt in your fingers as you held him close. He pressed himself into you, and you could feel the hardness of his bulge flush against your lower abdomen. A moan escaped you at the feeling of his arousal, your body instinctually thrusting into his hold. You could feel him smile into the kiss.

“Yeah? You feel what you do to me, huh, baby?”

He teased against your lips, and you tossed your head back, thudding against the door behind you. You looked down your nose at him, through your lashes, panting slightly, your hands still twisted in the material of his shirt.

“Fuck, Marc, want you so bad, just—”

Your words died on your breath when his arms abruptly slid beneath your butt and hoisted you upwards, your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms around his neck. One of his large hands stayed firmly squeezing the flesh of your ass, the other roamed the length of your back as he pressed his lips against yours again, turning to walk you further into the apartment.

“Jesus, this is gonna be fun.”

He mumbled at your eagerness and responsiveness, your hands threading through his brown curls as he brought you towards the bed, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. You gasped when he threw you back onto the mattress abruptly, your body bouncing once at the contact, causing you to giggle. But then Marc was stalking over your body, hovering above your body with a predatory look in his eyes. He licked his lips as you blinked up at him.

“Gonna take my time with you, pretty girl. Gonna absolutely ruin you.”

You impatiently pulled his face back to yours, and he didn’t resist, kissing you back with equal fervor and desire as your own, but the moment you lifted your hips to seek friction from his body, he pulled away, tutting at you condescendingly.

“Ah, ah, ah. Relax, baby. Don’t torture yourself.”

He smirked, fingers dancing across the skin of your stomach beneath the hem of your shirt. You reacted immediately, lifting your arms above your head to allow him to pull it from your body.

“Look at you—so obedient.”

His patronizing tone normally would’ve pissed you off, but there was something about the look in Marc's eyes—completely enraptured with you, ready to give you the world—that made you want to do whatever he said. He reached behind your body to undo your bra, fingers nimbly unhooking the clasps as he yanked it off of you, his face immediately sinking into your cleavage. He groaned, lips frantically attaching themselves to the flesh between your breasts, wandering across the expanse of the newly-exposed skin and wherever they could reach.

“Oh, baby. Got such pretty tits.”

He growled, teeth playfully sinking into the skin at the top of your right breast, earning a yelp from your mouth as he quickly soothed the sting with a swipe of his tongue, smirking up at you. The heat of his mouth was enough to briefly distract you from his wandering hands, but then he was yanking your pants down your legs in one fell swoop, leaving you bare save for the plain pink cotton panties you’d worn today—they weren’t particularly sexy, as you had been trying to prevent your apparel from serving as a confounding variable, but Marc still looked like he wanted to devour you.

His rough hands ran up the plush skin of your thighs, over your hips before squeezing at your tits, making your back arch up and off the bed. A dark chuckle sounded from above you.

“So eager.”

He hummed, pressing a kiss to your mouth, and you felt his hands travel down your body again, teasingly fondling at the waistband of your underwear as you sighed. You let your own hands travel beneath his shirt, running your hands along the warmth of his toned abdomen, coaxing him out of the material. You were happily surprised when he honored your silent request, allowing you to pull the shirt over his head and toss it to the side. His expression flickered for a moment as you admired him, his eyes briefly shining with a certain warmth that you couldn’t decipher. He pressed his lips to yours, a soft, sweet kiss, but when he pulled away, the wicked gleam in his eye had returned.

“Gonna make you feel good, baby. You want me to touch you?”

Your nod was frantic, your head pressed back into the pillows as you forced your body to stay still beneath him, even as you desperately wanted to rut up against his jean-clad thighs.

“Yeah, you do, huh? Bein’ such a good girl for me, baby—you gonna keep behavin’ yourself? Gonna let me take care a’ you?”

You whined, desperation starting to pulse through your limbs, making you want to squirm.

“Yes, Marc, yes, just—please—”

He shushed you, his lips pressing hotly beneath your jaw before continuing down the column of your neck, down your sternum, across your breasts, and finally stopping above your navel. He hummed into your skin, the vibrations causing a chill to pass over your spine, goosebumps rising in their wake. He lifted his hands to spread your legs further apart, granting him the space to lay between them so he was face-to-face with your clothed core.

“Fuck, baby—soakin’ for me already.”

You could feel his hot breath against the cool, damp material of your panties, and you jolted when his fingers lightly pressed against the wet spot, the pads of his digits just barely swiping over your folds. Your toes curled and legs tensed, trying hard to withstand Marc's slow, relentless teasing. He seemed to be enjoying it, a dark chuckle escaping his mouth at your reaction.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

He requested lowly, hands pressed against your inner thighs to hold them apart in front of him. You tried to make your voice steady.

“Marc, please, just—”

His fingers harshly curled into the flesh of your thighs, creating divots in the soft skin as you flinched. He gave you a warning glare.

“You never struck me as the bratty type. C’mon, baby—tell me what you want.”

“You, Marc, fuck—want you so bad. Always wanted you.”

You flinched at your own confession, but Marc responded with a throaty growl.

“Oh, yeah? Thought this was just for research, hm?”

You felt his nose brush against the crotch of your panties, and you whimpered, your hips lifting of their own accord. Marc’s hands gripped your waist tightly and slammed your ass back into the mattress, pressing you down firmly.

“That’s enough.”

He warned, suddenly strict, and you swallowed, trying hard to resist the urge to sink your hands in his hair and force him towards where you needed him most.

“Fuckin’ greedy little thing. I’ll give you whatever you want, pretty girl—just wanna hear you say it.”

You bit your lip defiantly, feigning confusion at his request, and he growled again, teeth sinking into the flesh of your hip right above the waistband of your panties. You jumped at the sensation, letting out a sharp cry, and you felt the vibration of his chuckle through your skin.

“Go on, Y/N. Tell me the truth. Tell me how bad you want me.”

Your resolve shattered.

“Want you so bad, Marc. Wanted you since the day I met you. Wanted you to bend me over the desk in my office, wanted—wanted to get on my knees for you right there on the bus. Got off to the thought of you fucking me so many times, Marc, shit, please, would you just—”

He practically ripped the panties from your body as his mouth finally surged forward to steal a taste of your sopping cunt. You yelped in surprise when his tongue swiped through your folds, and Marc wasted no time in sinking two fingers into your throbbing entrance, already beginning a relentless pace within you.

“Oooh, FUCK, Marc—”

You exclaimed, hips thrusting upward at the sudden stimulation, and Marc’s strong arm reached up to press down on your stomach, forcing your movements to halt.

“Sit fuckin’ still—want you to cum all over my fingers, baby.”

He muttered against your clit, lips wrapping around the bud to suck harshly. Your orgasm was rapidly approaching already, the pleasure mounting and mounting with each sudden thrust of Marc’s thick fingers, each move deliberate and practiced. You were mewling beneath him, back arched harshly as he continued his pace, dark eyes watching as your face contorted into a look of pleasure.

“That’s it, baby, can feel you squeezin’ my fingers, fuck—you gonna cum for me?”

Your climax peaked easily and you let out a long sigh as you let the waves of pleasure overcome your senses, only acutely aware of Marc’s gentle praises being muttered against your throbbing cunt as your became pliant beneath him.

Your muscles began to loosen after your sudden and intense orgasm, but the sensation didn’t last for long—Marc wasn't stopping. His tongue had replaced his fingers, thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy, his nose nudging at your clit in a move he must’ve learned from Steven, the cheeky bastard...

“Fuck, Marc, shit, I can’t—”

You couldn’t stop yourself from squirming, but he held you down securely, not allowing you to pull away from the intense stimulation he was still offering.

“Color.”

The sound was muffled, mixed in with the sinful slurping noises he was making, and your cloudy mind took a few moments to process his request, but as his fingers pressed harder into the divot of your hipbone, you threw your head back to respond. Stoplight.

“Green, Marc, but—God, fuck, s’too much, I can’t—”

“You can, and you will.”

Your eyes met his from his position buried in your mound, and the sight of his hungry eyes and the tone of his demand were enough to send you rapidly toppling over the edge yet again. The high-pitched wail that you let out was shameful, but Marc didn’t pause, watching you closely as you came apart on his tongue yet again.

As you came back down to Earth, he finally offered you a moment of reprieve, coming up for air to press a bruising kiss to your lips. The tangy taste of your arousal on his lips made your face flush hot.

“Taste so sweet for me, baby. Gonna give me another?"

You hummed, mind still foggy with bliss, but then his fingers were ghosting over your swollen clit, swiping carefully in circular motions on your tender flesh. Your head lifted to press into his shoulder, and he chuckled wickedly, increasing his pressure as you writhed beneath him.

“That’s it, baby, doin’ so well.”

He praised, hot lips pressed to your ear, and you could feel heat pool in your lower belly, red and hot and seething. Your lip was pulled between your teeth, hard enough that you could taste the metallic tinge of blood on your tongue as Marc sped up his pace. Your fingers wrapped around his arm, trying to pull him away, but his muscles flexed beneath your hold, and the overstimulation quickly made way for yet another stuttering orgasm, your cunt clenching around nothing as your teeth sank into the flesh of Marc’s shoulder, body twitching uncontrollably. You heard him hiss from the bite to his skin, but it quickly evolved into a groan as he turned his head to the side, littering your jaw with open-mouthed kisses as sweat dappled your face.

“There we go. Good girl, baby. Good girl.”

He cooed, finally pulling his hand away from your core. He lifted his slick-coated fingers and pressed them to your lips, and you absent-mindedly obeyed, sucking his digits into your mouth and lapping up the residual arousal from his knuckles. He hummed in approval, your face utterly fucked-out and eyes hazy. He pressed a soft kiss to your nose before sitting upright above you, his hands making quick work of his belt buckle as he pushed his jeans and boxers down simultaneously.

“Think you’re ready for my cock, pretty girl?”

Your legs were still quaking with aftershocks, your thighs sticky with wetness from your prior orgasms and Marc’s saliva. Still, even with exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs, the sight of Marc’s cock standing at full height, ruddy and weeping, was enough to inspire a nod of your head.

“Want you—fuck, Marc, want you inside me, please.”

“Sound so pretty when you beg for me, baby.”

Marc crept forward on his knees, stroking his cock with practiced precision as he slid between your split legs. You felt the head of his member slide experimentally through your folds, nudging at your clit. You bristled, the heat of his hardened length jostling your shot nerves. You nearly cried at the contact, hips pressing into the mattress and away from the pressure, but then the tip notched at your entrance and you wanted nothing more for him to sink into you. Before he pressed further, though, he slipped fingers beneath your chin, turning your head to look at him. Your lip was quivering with want.

“Color?”

He rumbled, brown eyes gentle, and your ass lifted upwards, trying to force his cock further into your awaiting channel, but Marc pulled away completely, drawing a long whine of protest from your chest.

“Easy, baby. Say the word, and I’ll fuck you just how you want. But I need to hear it.”

You swallowed, fingers sinking into his curls, and your voice was hoarse when you spoke.

“Green, Marc. Fuck me, please.”

Your swollen folds made way for his thick length as it sank into you quickly, bottoming out in one swift thrust as Marc groaned throatily.

“Oh, fuck.”

He growled, eyes squeezed shut tight at the sensation of your tight walls fluttering around him. His balls pressed firmly up against your ass, and Marc reached down to grip one of your ankles, hoisting your leg high above your head so the front of your thigh was to your chest. He offered a slow roll of his hips, his cock nestling tightly into you as he snapped them forward.

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby—so fuckin’ tight.”

His pace started to build, and soon he reached for your other leg to hold it above your head, effectively folding you in half. The new angle allowed him to reach even deeper within you, the head of his cock prodding at something devastating. You were moaning shamelessly, now, incapable of forming coherent words at this point as Marc continued to pound into you, his teeth bared as his hips pistonned forward.

“Always wanted to fuck you like this, baby. Knew you’d make the prettiest noises for me, knew you’d let me do whatever I wanted to you. You gonna gimme another one, baby? Gonna cum on my cock?”

A sob ripped through you at his words, your hips thrusting upwards to meet his strokes. He had one hand wrapped around each ankle, braced over your head as he railed you into the mattress, the bedframe creaking under the strain. You felt your stomach coiling yet again, but your body was resisting, so overstrung and sensitive that your muscles felt like they were on fire. Still, Marc’s pace was relentless, and you couldn’t stave off the overwhelming need for release as you started to fall apart.

The groan that Marc offered was animalistic as your pussy clenched down on him, hard, throbbing rhythmically as you surrendered yourself to the onslaught of shockwaves that pulsed through your core. You felt faint, weightless, the crux of heat in your center exploding.

“Oh, fuck me, baby, oh my God, did you just—”

His words dissolved into a growl as he pounded into you harder, and it was only as you slowly regained your bearings that you could feel the slickness coating your thighs and Marc’s abdomen—you’d squirted all over his cock.

“Jesus, not gonna last much longer, baby, so fuckin’ good.”

His head was bowed, curls falling into his eyes as he rammed into you, balls slapping against your asscheeks with each thrust. Punched-out moans passed through your lips surreptitiously as you tried to maintain your focus, although your consciousness was slipping away.

Marc’s left hand released your leg and you felt his fingers swirl over your clit again.

“Gonna cum for you, baby, but you gotta gimme one more, first.”

You sobbed, body lurching off the bed as if you were possessed, your knee curling over his shoulder.

“Oh, fuck, Marc, I can’t, s’too much, please, just want you to—”

“Not gonna cum until you do.”

He spoke through gritted teeth, a hardened determination glinting within his crazed eyes. You drank him in—sweat dripping from his curls, nostrils flared, lips pulled up in a snarl, veins in his neck straining beneath the skin with his effort. His pace abruptly switched, his rapid thrusting replaced with a few slow, deep, and fucking bone-rattling plunges within you, the sound of his skin roughly slapping yours filling your ears. The change in tempo was too much, you were spiraling, and with a guttural cry of his name, you felt a blissful numbness erupt from within. Marc threw his head back as you clenched around him once more.

“Oh, fuck, baby, yes, yes, so fuckin’ good, God—”

You watched through half-lidded eyes as he pulled out of you hurriedly, hand reaching down to jerk his cock rapidly as he finally allowed himself to reach his release.

“Fuck, gonna cum all over you, baby, yeah, you ready? You want my cum?”

You nodded, whining greedily, your legs settling down on either side of him as you raised your hips towards him so you could feel his knuckles brush over your pubic bone with each rapid stroke of his cock. The desperation in your eyes is what hurled him over the edge.

“Fuckin’ take it, baby, I’m cummin’ for you, oh, fuck—”

His spend spilled all across your mound, spraying upwards over your stomach and some droplets even landing themselves atop your tits as he continued to jack himself off above you, deep grunts passing through his parted lips with each spurt of cum that he coaxed out. He was panting heavily, watching his white seed ooze across your skin and down his knuckles as he finally slowed the pace of his hand, squeezing one final drop of pearly liquid from the tip as he groaned, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours to catch his breath. You hummed, unable to open your tired eyes, but the intimacy of the action was welcomed as his lips just barely brushed over your own, a silent ‘thank you’ in the aftermath of an intense moment of passion.

You didn’t think it was possible to feel simultaneously weightless but so heavy at the same time, your limbs sinking into the damp sheets beneath you as you attempted to catch your breath. Marc nestled his face into the crook of your neck—an action vaguely reminiscent of Steven’s habit of nuzzling into you—and you felt him take a slow, deep inhale against your clammy skin, his warm breath fanning out along your collarbone.

You tried to stay awake when you felt his body peel itself from atop yours, but he returned moments later with a cool damp cloth to wipe away the evidence of both of your orgasms. You whined when the cold came in contact with the swollen, sensitive folds of your cunt before he moved up to wipe away his own release—Marc easily shushed you, pressing soft kisses against the skin after he wiped each spot clean. When he was finished, he haphazardly tossed the towel aside, crawling up towards you yet again.

Marc liked to be smothered. If you could take any one thing away from this moment, that’s what you saw—he laid down beside you, flat on his back, before rolling you over on top of him, your face pressed up against his pecs as your body settled between his legs. You hummed at the new position, his arms curling protectively around you, fingers of his right hand playing with your knotted hair. Your ear was pressed up against his chest and you listened to the steady rhythmic thumping of his heart, and you easily could’ve fallen asleep in an instant. Still, you wanted to enjoy the tenderness of the moment for a bit longer.

“You okay?”

Marc finally asked, and the vibrations from his throat reverberated down through his ribcage for you to feel. You breathed in long and deep, the feeling of his soft, warm skin comforting and familiar.

“’M great.”

You whispered, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. There was a small adoring smile on his abused lips, his brown eyes sweeping over your face in a way that only Marc could do—calculating, observant, as if he was looking straight through you. Sometimes, his unusual skill for reading people made you uneasy, but now, you felt completely relaxed beneath his scrutinizing gaze. It would be hard not to, when his eyes glowed as if you’d hung the stars in the sky just for him.

“…was that okay?”

Marc rephrased, and it was only then that you caught on to the insecurity he so desperately tried to mask. The crease between his brows betrayed him, making his concern for you evident. You smiled up at him reassuringly.

“Marc, it was great. You were great. You are great.”

Maybe it was the post-orgasmic bliss that had you feeling sappy, the endorphins boosting you higher into your serenity. The look on Marc’s face was heart-wrenching—the gratitude that shone in his beaming smile, the glow of his face as it lit up with pride, the—dare I say—love, in his eyes, as he gazed upon you.

A comfortable silence settled between you, and the hand that was resting against your back reached down to pull the duvet up and over the both of you, cocooning you in its warmth. You let yourself settle further into Marc’s welcoming embrace, eyes fluttering shut as you let your exhaustion take you. You quickly spoke before you found yourself dozing off.

“So…what’s your typical post-sex ritual look like after this, hm?”

You questioned, lifting your chin slightly to see his face. His eyes blinked open to look at you, and he frowned, pursing his lips.

“Believe it or not…with most of my, uh, hookups, I—uh, I have the tendency to leave in the middle of the night so I’m not there when the girl wakes up—gotta leave ’em wanting more, y’know?”

You laughed breathily at that, but hoped to hide how crestfallen his admission made you feel.

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll try to sneak out after you fall asleep—”

His arms tightened their grip around you, and there was a sort of pleading look in his big brown eyes as he shook his head.

“No, you don’t have to do that, really, I just thought you should—”

“It’s really okay, Marc, I don’t mind.”

You assured with a shy smile, but he shook his head more firmly this time.

“No. You aren’t just a hookup, and you aren’t just some girl.”

Your lips parted in a silent gasp, eyes searching within his to try to gauge his thoughts. He seemed genuine, insistent. Your heart practically melted in your chest.

“But, I don’t—”

“Please, just stay?”

He hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question, and certainly hadn’t meant to plead—this was more vulnerability than he’d ever displayed to you before, something you’d ached to see for as long as you’d known him. For him to open up to you, to trust you, to finally let you in.

You mustered up whatever strength you had left to lift yourself up and press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. You gazed up at him through tired eyes, face aglow from his apparent affections.

You didn’t give him a verbal response—you didn’t need to. Instead, you settled back in against him, curling your head into his shoulder, pressing your face against the warm skin at the side of his neck. Sleep came easy for both of you—Marc felt lighter having finally let his impermeable facade yield to you, even if just for a second.

Tomorrow, you intended to convince him to drop his guard completely.

POINTS OF CONTENTION: - relinquishing control - embracing uncertainty - asking for help

TREATMENT: - practice submission - express vulnerability - communicate needs

You briefly got déjà vu when Marc opened the door to his apartment for you, a familiar cheeky smirk adorning his handsome features. This time, however, your expression matched his own as you stood on your tiptoes to plant a peck on his lips, pushing past him and into the flat as if you owned the place. He was startled at your forwardness, and he would be lying if he said your surge of confidence didn’t make him slightly uneasy—what had gotten into you?

“Back for more?”

He managed to quip, quirking a brow at you as he shut the door behind him. You approached Gus’ fish tank and tapped the glass a few times to get his attention, leaning over to watch him swim around aimlessly for a few seconds—it gave Marc a perfect view of your ass through your yoga pants as you bent down, and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared unabashedly.

“I can see your reflection in the glass, you asshole.”

You jabbed, a teasing smile lighting up your face as you met his gaze in the mirrored tank, but he didn’t stop his shameless ogling—instead, he watched you with darkened eyes, a wicked grin on his lips.

“At least I don’t have to hide the fact that I stare at your ass every time I see you, anymore.”

Your brows lifted at his confession, and you carefully straightened up, turning to face him at an agonizingly slow pace. Your hands found your hips as you studied him with an amused expression. You stood across from him in challenge.

“So you admit that you’ve checked me out? Even before this little experiment?”

Marc fought hard to keep the smirk off of his face as he crossed his arms over his chest, sizing you up carefully to gauge your seriousness. You were clearly teasing him, but he offered a subject change nonetheless in an effort to avoid the fact that he just admitted he’d been eye-fucking you since the day you’d met.

Instead, his eyes flickered down to the small black paper bag that you had set by your feet, his brow raising in question.

“I see you brought props with you, this time?”

He closed the gap between you with two large strides, bending down to snatch the shopping bag from your feet before you could protest. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he peered inside, but his eyes widened when he realized what you’d brought.

“Jesus, Y/N. You dirty, dirty girl.”

His fingers reached in to pull out a pair of black silky restraints—it didn’t go unnoticed by Marc that the receipt was in the bag and the fabric still had a tag fastened to it. You must’ve bought them just for this occasion.

The expression on his face was practically carnal as he smirked at you, but something about the look in your eyes made him hesitate. You looked up at him shyly, reaching forward to thumb at the fabric before settling your hand into his open palm atop the silk.

“They’re not for me.”

Four words, and Marc was stunned into silence. His face fell, eyes wide as they studied you, expression bemused and slightly fearful. You swore you could actually see his face drain of color.

“We don’t have to, Marc, I promise—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just spring this on you out of the blue, I’m sure it’s not something you’d normally—well, I mean, not that I know what you’re into and everything, but I just thought it might be—”

“Slow down, baby, it’s okay. I just—took me by surprise, s’all. Wasn’t—wasn’t expecting it.”

You looked up at him thoughtfully, now hyperaware of the trepidation in his features. He avoided your eyes.

“Come on.”

You grabbed his wrist softly and guided him over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and gesturing him to follow suit. He sat down beside you and carefully turned to lay out the two black restraints on the mattress behind him. Then, he turned back to you, eyes gentle. You reached over to pull his hands into your lap.

“Marc.”

You started softly, and his eyes flitted to you nervously, an uneasy lopsided smile on his face.

“Listen to me. We really, really don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable. I know it’s—it requires a lot of trust, and—well, I don’t know.”

You fell silent, unsure of what to say or how to proceed. Marc was giving you that familiar calculating stare, taking you in and analyzing every breath you took. You grew impatient with his lack of response.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?”

There was an apprehensive edge to your tone, your eyes round and full of worry, afraid to offend him or make him uncomfortable. You could see the gears turning in his head as he pondered.

“And this... of anything in the world you could possibly want to do with me, to me... this is the one thing you’d choose?”

You carefully nodded your head, squeezing his hands in your own.

“I think—I think this could be good for you. If—if you’re up for it, of course. No pressure.”

He hummed at your reply, before he turned to you with a small smile.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

You blinked once, then twice, surprised at his easy response.

“Wha—really? Are you sure?”

“I trust you.”

Maybe those words were just that—words. But you couldn’t help feel your eyes grow glassy as the gravity of his admission weighed on you, your heart soaring in your chest as you smiled widely at him, eyes crinkling at the corners. The glow radiating from your face made Marc’s shoulders roll back with pride—he would do anything just to see you smile at him like that.

Apparently, that really did mean anything.

You leaned over and kissed him deeply, hand sliding to cup his face as he pulled you against him, sliding you atop his lap easily as he sucked at your bottom lip.

You settled down onto his thighs, your core easing over his hardening bulge as you pressed your front into him, your pebbling nipples brushing against his chest as you kissed him feverishly. His hands held a bruising grip on your hips as you grinded against him, feeling his hold tighten with every brush of your clothed core over his growing erection.

He hummed when you pushed on his shoulders, coaxing him to lay back against the mattress as you pulled his shirt over his head easily. You guided him towards the headboard as you continued to kiss him, settling him carefully onto the pillows in the center of the bed. You drew your head back quickly, your breath catching in your throat as you drank him in—his dark umber curls a stark contrast to the white downy pillows beneath his head, his brown eyes darkening as he watched you with half-lidded eyes, spit-soaked lips parted. You’d never seen a prettier sight—and you knew how to make it even more enticing.

Your fingers traced up his chest and danced across his shoulders. You kissed him to distract from you sneaky movements as you reached behind yourself to retrieve the pair of restraints that had been discarded earlier. You let your nails skate across his nipples, causing him to hiss, before you gently pried his hands off of your hips. You grabbed each wrist carefully, intently watching his reaction as you guided them over the top of his head and towards the headboard.

You grinded down against his cock once more in an effort to relax his body—he groaned quietly, and you reached for one of the restraints, pulling his left arm straight out to the side and carefully winding the fabric around the bedpost before reaching to fasten it around his wrist. You watched his jaw ripple as you carefully looped the silk over his skin, tightening it just slightly to prevent his hand from slipping out. You tugged at the fabric lightly, testing its resistance, before you leaned back down to peck his lips.

“That okay?”

You asked carefully, nose brushing against his, and he squeezed his eyes shut, tugging against the binding before offering you a soft nod. You smiled at him graciously before repeating the action on his right arm, successfully rendering him incapacitated beneath you, his arms spread wide on either side of his body. You allowed yourself to draw back once more, the sight of him splayed out atop the mattress, completely at your mercy, caused a wave of arousal to rush straight between your legs. He must’ve felt the clenching of your thighs from where they caged his hips in, because he let out a breathy laugh.

“You like this, don’t you?”

His voice was low and hoarse, and you kissed him again, nodding against his lips.

“Yeah, Marc, I do. So pretty for me.”

You felt the warm huff of air that he let out at your praise, and you knew he secretly loved your verbal affirmations, even if he’d never admit it to you. You offered him one last kiss before slowly dragging your face back—his head followed your backwards movement, chasing the feel of your mouth against his, but he jostled at the feeling of his movement being restricted. His eyes opened suddenly at the sensation, as if he was surprised to find the restraints actually lived up to their name. You couldn’t help the tiny grin on your lips as he accustomed himself to his limited range of movement—you could feel the tightness in his muscles, his biceps flexing and tensing as he mindlessly fought to gain control back.

“Easy—you’re okay, I’m right here.”

You soothed, running your hands up his torso as his abdominal muscles contracted beneath your fingers. There was sweat beading at his hairline, his jaw grinding rhythmically as he finally opened his eyes to look up at you, forcing himself to inhale a steady breath in an effort to calm himself down. Your fingers rubbed at the tension in his shoulders and you felt him soften under your touch, becoming pliant beneath you as he allowed himself to settle back into the mattress, finally coming to terms with his current situation. You rewarded him with a kiss, leaning yourself forward so your front was pressed to his.

“Before we start, I need you to promise me something.”

His eyes followed you when you sat back upright, and he nodded for you to continue. You breathed.

“Marc. You have to swear to me that you will use the safe word if you need to.”

He rolled his eyes in response, but you squeezed your thighs together in response, putting an uncomfortable pressure against his hips. He glared at you, but you gave him a stern look.

“I’m serious, Marc. I don’t want you to think—to not use it just because you want to make me happy, or because you wanna seem like a big tough guy. You do make me happy, and I know you’re tough, regardless of whether or not you choose to tell me to stop. Okay?”

He could hear the sincerity in your tone, the genuine concern lacing your words. He swallowed. He wasn't going to lie and say it wouldn’t be hard for him to safeword—he didn’t like admitting defeat, showing weakness or cracking under the pressure. But this wasn’t some mission or fistfight with an adversary, he reminded himself—this was you. He was safe, and he trusted you, and he was supposed to enjoy this. Finally, he nodded at you, and you mumbled out a ‘thank you’ before pulling yourself off of him completely.

He watched you like a hawk, eyes trained on you intently, analyzing your every move in anticipation. You carefully reached for his waistband, and he obliged, lifting his hips from the bed to allow you to undress him. You pulled his briefs down in the same motion, discarding Marc’s final two articles of clothing and leaving him bare before you.

His cock was at full mast, resting atop his navel as he drew in slow, deliberate breaths, trying not to feel bashful beneath your scrutinizing gaze. You were still trying to fathom the fact that you had this Adonis of a man splayed out in front of you, completely surrendering himself to you.

He really had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.

“Color?”

You asked, kneeling back on your heels from your position beside him, one hand resting on his abs, just above where the head of his cock was patiently waiting. He breathed out a chuckle.

“You haven’t even done anything yet.”

You raised a brow, and at your persistence, he offered a roll of his eyes.

“Green.”

“Good.”

You smiled, fingers sliding down from his stomach to ghost over the tender skin of his shaft, causing a shiver to crawl up his spine. You were careful to take note of just how his body reacted to each ministration—the way his breath hitched when you finally wrapped your hand around the base, the barely-audible grunt when your thumb swiped the bead of precum from his slit.

You removed your hand briefly just to spit into your palm before you were back on him, beginning a slow and gentle pace of stroking him. He hummed at the motion, his heels digging into the mattress as he threw his head back into the pillows, fingers wrapped around each restraint tightly to give himself something to grip. Your other hand reached over to fondle his balls, and his hips jerked just slightly at the added stimulation.

“S’that feel good, baby?”

You purred, your hand gradually picking up speed as your jerked him. He groaned lowly, nodding at your question.

“Shit, yeah.”

You smirked, carefully shifting so you were kneeling in between his legs, lowering yourself down to lay on your stomach. He watched you closely, bracing himself as you leant forward and suckled one of his heavy balls into your mouth, your other hand continuing its steady pace.

You hummed around his sack and he grunted, abdominal muscles flexing as you popped it out of your mouth and traded it for his other bulb, tongue swirling around the flesh and listening to his small moans of pleasure.

He was trying to stay quiet, you noticed. You didn’t press him on the issue—you knew he wouldn’t be quiet for much longer.

You pushed yourself up and licked a long stripe from base to tip, tongue flicking over his frenulum which caused his hips to quake. You offered a few kitten licks to his slit, tasting the salty precum as you continued to stroke him steadily.

“Fuck, baby—just like that.”

He whispered, eyes squeezed shut at the sensations. He was holding himself back—you wanted him to fall apart.

You carefully drew the head of his cock past your lips, bobbing your head up and down over just the tip, matching your pace to that of your hand. He growled, and your eyes flitted up to watch his biceps strain as he tugged on his bindings, desperately wanting to bury his fingers in your hair. You sank your head lower, taking him deeper, lewd choking noises escaping your lips as you swallowed him down. His hips were weakly thrusting upward, now, his feet planted into the mattress to seek leverage in a sorry effort to fuck into the heat of your mouth. You didn’t stop him—you let him cling to the sliver of control he was desperately seeking, removing your hand to sink your head down completely, allowing him to thrust his cock into the back of your throat with his shallow movements.

“Oh, fuck, baby, fuck.”

He moaned, and you could see the muscles of his stomach clenching as you reached to fondle his balls again. You were breathing in carefully through your nose as he continued to abuse your throat, his length sliding in and out of your mouth sloppily. One sharp thrust caused you to gag and he let out a deep groan from somewhere in his ribcage—you could feel his balls tightening up, thighs flexing.

“Yes, baby, gonna cum in that pretty little mouth, yes—”

You sat up abruptly with a gasp, pulling your body from his completely as his limbs involuntarily jerked beneath you, his back arching at the sudden loss of contact. He yelped, and you could see veins bulging in his arms as he harshly pulled against the restraints.

“Jesus fuck!”

He cried out, hips falling back down into the mattress, defeated. You sat silently, watching as he tried to catch his breath. He blinked the bleariness from his eyes to fix his stare on you—there was a somewhat sadistic shine in your gaze as you met his eyes challengingly. When you didn’t back down, you were surprised when he let out a bark of a laugh.

“So this is your game, sweetheart? You gonna edge me? Really?”

He was trying to intimidate you—you could see right through him. He was mocking you, hoping to berate you into submission, into backing down. It wouldn’t work.

When you didn’t respond, he shook his head lightly, feigning composure as he lazily closed his eyes.

“Go on—have your fun.”

He offered, a small smile on his lips. You felt anger briefly flare up inside you, but you quelled it down with logic—you were in control, right now. You had all the power.

It didn’t matter how disciplined Marc’s psyche was—his body betrayed him. It told the truth. Your hand reached back up towards his shaft, and his cock jumped beneath your touch, thighs tensing just slightly. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from giggling with satisfaction—Marc’s face was set into a look of quiet concentration, lips pulled into a straight line.

You started again, the same way you had before, with your spit-soaked hand slowly escalating until your lips joined in. His noises were subdued—they came from deep within his chest, escaping through barely parted lips only when he was powerless to stop them. He writhed beneath you, responsive to your touch, and when the telltale signs of his approaching orgasm began revealing themselves again, you ceased your movement.

“FUCK!”

He yelled, back arching off the bed as he attempted to curl into a sitting position, but he was snapped back into complacency by the fabric bound to his wrists. There were veins bulging in his neck as he seethed, sweat beginning to bead along his hairline. You blinked up at him innocently as he glared at you, eyes dark and filled with disdain.

“So fuckin’ pleased with yourself, huh, baby? This what you wanted? To rile me up? God, if I wasn’t tied up right now, I’d—”

“You’d what?”

He blinked at your interruption, your voice showcasing your defiance.

“What’re you gonna do, Marc? Nothing. You’re not gonna do anything. You’re gonna sit back, and fucking take it, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

His jaw clenched down tightly, his face practically trembling with rage. His nostrils flared as he stared at you, trying to win the silent battle between you, in complete denial of the fact that you were completely in control. He wasn’t backing down, unwilling to admit that he was powerless—so you reached forward and scratched your nails down the length of his shaft. He shouted in protest, hips jolting backwards to retreat from the uncomfortable sensation, and he growled lowly in his throat before sagging back into the mattress—his eyes were still on you, but his lips were sealed shut.

“That’s what I thought.”

You antagonized, leaning down to take his cock back into your mouth. It was taking increasingly smaller increments of time to get him to the edge, and you continued—once, then twice more. On the third round, he’d nearly lost it, but you squeezed around the base of his cock tightly to force the orgasm to dissipate as it peaked.

“You fuckin’ bitch.”

He snapped, and the words seemed to surprise him just as much as they surprised you. A heat of the moment utterance, offered in a second of desperation—but he didn’t take it back. Maybe you should feel hurt—instead, you felt pride swell inside you as you stared down at him wickedly.

“Such mean words from a guy who can’t even see me through his tears.”

It was true—there were tears streaming down either side of his face, eyes red and puffy as he fought viciously against your torture. He shook his head at you, overwhelmed with anger, but he couldn’t hold back the sob that practically pulled itself from his lungs when you gave a single lick up his shaft.

“Oh, fuck you, fuck—”

“You can cum whenever you want, Marc. I’m not stopping you.”

You tone was even and steady, expression blank as you studied him. His brows furrowed, his eyes suspicious as his breathing slowed again. You smiled coyly at him, innocently, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips—he didn’t kiss you back. He just watched you as you carefully resumed your position between his legs, waiting to hear your stipulation.

“You just have to beg for it.”

Marc’s venomous laugh was replaced with a long whine as you took his cock in your hands once more, stroking him a few times before simply holding him there. He sneered at you.

“I don’t beg.”

“Then you don’t cum.”

You shrugged easily, releasing his throbbing member from your grasp and allowing it to drop back down against his stomach. You could see every muscle in his body fighting for release—his heels digging into the mattress, his arms continuously straining against their restraints. You tutted at him condescendingly, your eyes mocking sympathy as you stood from the bed. He studied you carefully as you began to remove your clothes until your were completely naked. You rejoined him on the bed, loving the way his eyes turned ravenous as he admired your body.

“If you wanna torture yourself, Marc, that’s your choice.”

You purred, crawling up until you were straddling him. You watched the way his breath hitched when you were hovering over his cock, and you felt it jump beneath your cunt—but instead of dropping down, you crept further upwards until you were straddling his ribcage. He looked at you, confused.

“So what are you gonna do?”

His voice was gravelly and hoarse, raw from the moans you had been pulling from him. You leaned down and shoved your tongue into his mouth—he whimpered at the intimacy, but you pulled away soon after.

“I’m gonna ride your face, and you’re gonna be a good boy and make me cum on your tongue.”

The whine that he let out was carnal—you’d never heard anything like it in your life, and Marc might’ve been embarrassed if it weren’t for the painful arousal that was burning a hole through the bottom of his stomach. He tilted his head back as you began to position yourself over him, lips already parting in anticipation of tasting you, but you paused, your eyes turning gentle. Your hand reached down to stroke through his damp hair, and he pressed his head into your touch.

“Color?”

You whispered, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat at he swallowed. He breathed in once, then twice, before meeting your eyes again.

“Green.”

You settled your knees on either side of his head, your folds already soaking from your time toying with Marc—you shuddered at the feeling of his warm breath on your awaiting cunt, and with trembling thighs, you slowly and carefully lowered yourself onto his mouth.

You lurched forward at his eagerness, his tongue immediately breaching your entrance and slurping up the arousal that was flooding your pussy. You yelped in surprise, arms reaching forward to grip the headboard as you tried to keep most of your weight off of him, allowing your face to just barely skate over his features.

He mumbled something into your core, and you lifted yourself from him in concern, worried that you'd hurt him.

“What?”

You asked for clarification, brows furrowed, but when you met his eyes from between your legs, they were dark and gleaming savagely.

“I said, sit the fuck down.”

He growled again, and you could feel the headboard bend as he strained against the fabric on his wrists, obviously wanting to grab your waist and pull you down onto his mouth with full force. You let out a breathy laugh before you eased your way back onto him, allowing yourself to relax more against his face. The thick muscle of his tongue immediately began fucking into you and it wasn’t long before you were grinding against his face, his nose rubbing up against your bundle of nerves and his mouth savoring your juices. Your head was thrown back in ecstasy, and Marc watched you from his position between your legs as you came apart on his tongue, quiet cries of his name leaving your lips as your rode out your high on his mouth.

Marc greedily lapped up all you had to offer, and he almost whined in disapproval when you began picking yourself up off of him—but then you were turning around, and he got a perfect view of your perfect ass as you slowly settled your cunt back down to his mouth and—

Fuck. He nearly cried into your pussy when he felt your lips attach themselves to his cock, and he jostled against you, hips jolting upwards of their own volition. He squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his head back, trying to fight the orgasm that he was already teetering on the edge of. You hand came up and squeezed tightly around the base of his cock, helping stave off his climax.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

You hissed, and Marc gulped before diving straight back into you cunt, his lips wrapping around your puffy clit as he suckled it into his mouth and flicked over it with his tongue. You moaned, you fingers beginning to stroke his cock again. When you turned your attention back to his length, however, his mouth immediately stopped its movement. You sank against him, rolling your eyes in theatrical annoyance.

“Jesus, you really can’t multitask, can you?”

“Y/N.”

He spoke your name lowly and with a warning edge, and you craned your neck to look at him—his head was peaking out from behind your asscheek, eyes desperately searching yours. You could see he was struggling to maintain his composure, but he kept his voice level and steady.

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop.”

He voice cracked at the very end of his statement, but you appreciated his honesty with you. You swiftly removed your hand from where it was wrapped around him and he let out a long sigh, steeling himself before attaching himself to your clit once more.

Your second orgasm came easily, creeping up and washing over you without warning as Marc continued to lavish your clit with his tongue, the obscene noises he was making only adding to your arousal. He slowed his movements as you came down from your high, lapping at your release as you slowly pulled you cunt away from his mouth. You pulled yourself off of him completely, kneeling at his side and pressing a sweet, gentle kiss against his lips. His face was coated in your slick and his eyes were alight with a sort of lovesickness, as if he’d completely forgotten the torture you’d been putting him through simply because he got to watch you fall apart on his tongue. You pressed your forehead against his for a moment before you swung your leg over his hip, finally settling yourself where he needed you most.

Anticipation flickered in his dark brown eyes, his body tensing beneath you as you reached between your legs to stroke his cock, using your dripping arousal as lube to give him a few tentative strokes. He hissed, his hips jumping at the touch, but he immediately froze when you pressed the head into your entrance. He held his breath.

“I’m gonna ride you now, okay?”

You asked, although it was less of a question and more of a statement. He nodded vigorously, eyes squeezed shut and head turned to the side as he braced himself for the feeling of your hot channel swallowing him whole.

“Marc.”

You probed softly, and he winked one eye open, looking up at you where you were paused, right in the moment before sheer bliss. You eyed him warily.

“Color?”

He smiled softly up at you, more relaxed than he’d been this whole interaction—finally, finally relinquishing his control and allowing you to take the reins.

“Green.”

The duet of moans that filled the room was intoxicating as you slowly eased yourself down onto his rock-hard length, the stretch offering a sting that was just painful enough to be pleasurable. Marc’s head was thrown back into the pillows as he began to ramble incomprehensibly.

“Oh, God, oh, fuck yes, so fuckin’ good, fuck—”

You braced yourself by planting your arms against his sturdy chest, raising up your hips until just the tip remained before slamming yourself back down, burying him to the hilt within you. A wrecked sob sounded from his mouth.

“Oh, fuck, God, I can’t—”

You settled into a steady pace, angling your hips backwards just slightly so his cock rutted up against that place deep inside you that sent you reeling. You keened, grinding back and forth against him as he moaned wantonly, knuckles turning white as he pulled on the restraints with every ounce of his strength. You orgasm was rapidly approaching, and with each careful plunge of his cock into you, you felt the coil tightening.

“Fuck, Marc, gonna cum on your cock, baby.”

You whimpered, throwing your head back as your walls clenched down around him. You must’ve blacked out for a moment, your vision going bright white as pleasure speared through you—when you regained your bearings and sensation over your limbs, your ears were blessed with a sound you weren’t sure you’d get to hear.

Marc was falling apart.

“Please, oh, God, Y/N, baby, please let me cum for you, I can’t—can’t hold it anymore, please, please, please, baby, please let me cum, pleasepleasepleaseplease—”

There were sobs ripping themselves from his lips as tears flooded his eyes and streamed down his cheeks, the muscles of his abdomen clenched so tightly you thought he might sprain something. The fluttering of your tight walls against him was unbearable, truly torturous—he couldn’t do it anymore.

His eyes blinked open to watch you as your hands crept up the length of his strained arms, fingers deftly untying the knots that held him hostage to the bed. His arms fell limp at his sides when released from their hold, and he looked up at you with wide eyes, glassy with tears.

You pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Been so good for me, baby. Go ahead and take what you want, Marc, it’s yours. Cum for me.”

Something snapped inside of him. A vein throbbed in his forehead as his hands flew to your hips, planting you firmly against him as he began to thrust up into you at a rapid pace, his hips slamming against your thighs loudly and roughly. You yelped in surprise at his sudden burst of energy, and he was staring intently at the place where his cock was splitting you open, hips relentlessly pistonning upwards into you as he slammed your body down against him to meet each thrust.

You didn’t expect to cum again, but the harsh drag of his cock inside of you as his hands grounded you firmly sent you hurling across the edge, your cunt clamping down on his aching length as you pulled him across the threshold with you.

“Oh fuck, yes, yes, gonna fill you up, baby, cummin’ so hard, fuuuck—”

Each harsh pump upwards was punctuated with a grunt as he spilled inside of you, his cock pumping you full of his white hot seed as he continued pounding into you relentlessly. Even as you came down from the climax that had blindsided you, and even after he’d completely emptied himself inside of your slick walls, he continued rutting up into you, his face contorted in a look of pain and determination as he gritted his teeth.

“Woah, Marc, hey, hey, slow down—”

You urged, reached to wrap your fingers around his wrists from where they were still firmly attached to your waist, the wet sounds of his cock still pumping in and out of you filling the room. His eyes finally looked up to you, the haziness clearing as your worried face settled on him.

“It’s okay, Marc, you’re okay.”

You assured, and he finally let your full weight rest down onto him, his body slowly rolling to a halt as the aftershocks of his intense pleasure pulsed through his limbs, blood pumping loudly in his ears. He was breathing heavily, his heart beating against his ribcage harshly, but his eyes watched you as you smiled down at him, reaching forward to cup his jaw in one hand as the other ran through his sweaty hair.

“There we go. There you are. There’s my handsome boy.”

All at once, he collapsed into a fit of sobs again, sitting up to pull you against his chest impossibly tight as he wrapped his arms around you. You felt your heart break as you coddled him, one hand stroking the back of his head and the other rubbing soothing patterns into the bare skin of his back. Years and years of internalized vulnerability spilled out of him in your embrace, and you held him there until his stuttering cries turned into shaky exhales, his face buried in the crook of his neck. He fell back into the pillows, pulling you down on top of him and keeping you snugly pulled against his body.

His cock was still nestled deep inside of you, and you could feel Marc’s cum leaking out and creating a stickiness between your thighs and atop his hips. When you shifted to move, he tightened his hold, his breath wavering just slightly.

“Please, don’t. Just—stay with me. Like this. For just awhile longer. Please.”

He whispered against your temple, begging for this brief moment of reprieve, of absolution, of solace. You sank into his chest, breathing in his heady scent and allowing yourself to indulge in the intimacy of this moment, too—a moment of comfort, of safety, of resolve.

Marc had one final thought before sleep overtook him.

Is this what being okay feels like?

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tarjapearce · 5 months

Text

Mi Dulce Cereza (Pt. 8)

Ranchero! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: Telenovela coded drama towards the end, Not so subtle hints of jealousy, fluff.

Summary: New truths are revealed, while you and Miguel’s bond strengthens.

Intro:

As the days advanced in Hacienda O'Hara, so did the renovations. He main house, Miguel and your sanctuary, had the windows and water system installed, the floors freshly done and ready to be moped in. There was little details that could be added within the following days.

Such as the stair's handles, and the hot tub in the main bedroom. An initial petition of Miguel that proved to be useful and perfect for you. He knew pregnancy would get more difficult as it grew on you.

Today's day was dedicated to the fencing around the property. A step closer to increase the security, which got him thinking.

Your parents had been quiet enough, and that meant no good. However, his mind focused on the now and how good things had advanced.

He got new contacts through town, a new cattle and horses supplier, some seeds and orchard expert, a veterinary specialized in livestock, a coffee supplier and a security company that would install the cameras once the place was fenced.

Your pregnancy was going great, twelve weeks and counting. The first trimester and a bit more were the most delicate months during the gestation, and you were almost out of danger. Baby bump was prominent enough for people realize your condition.

Many or most women would have a smaller and barely noticeable bump, but it was Miguel’s child you were growing within. He was a big man, so it was obvious for his child to be big and take a bit more of room.

It concerned him you'd have a c section or any sort of complication that would prove Vicky a bit too much for her knowledge. But things were too soon to be flooded with negative thinking.

You were alright, and that's all that he needed to know.

Miguel would often find himself stroking your belly to sleep, smiling in his sleep, happy to witness first hand the miracle of life growing alongside with you. Even though he had no idea of parenting, he knew Victoria would help him and you. Guiding you both towards the ABC's of parenthood.

He'd often fantasized with a girl. He always wanted one, to call her his little princess. He already had a queen. His queen.

The owner of his heart that was unable to sleep if he wasn't around. His one and only that curled in his chest every night and played with his hair if he wasn't feeling good. His beloved and caring wife that always asked him about the favorite part of his day, his meal, his fears to ease them later, and if he was drinking enough water cause you had caught him drinking around six cups of coffee.

His sex drive had taken a better turn, he felt younger and happier. But there was always a little hair in his soup to ruin his mood.

---

Paco was in charge to measure some of the fence and the height of the cameras.

"No te vayas a caer, hold on tight! " (Watch your fall)

"I've got this, tío! Just gotta measure that post lamp."

"I'm telling you to hold on! you're not gonna reach that-"

Miguel's eyes widened as Paco fell on the floor with a loud thud. His nephew's arm split at the forearm and held tightly by a sobbing and groaning Paco.

"Puta madre, Paco!"

Miguel rushed to him and helped him, the younger man clenched his teeth upon the pained waves that ran deep through his body.

Vicky received them with a horrified gasp. Miguel reprimanded him.

"I told you to listen! Why didn't you listen?!"

"Miguel, cálmate! Yelling him won't resolve anything. He needs a doctor!"

He gave a deep sigh and held his hands up, trying to appease Victoria.

"Joseph!" Miguel called and the young man came.

"Take him to town, go to the doctor."

Joseph nodded but cringed at the way Paco's arm was broken.

You arrived after the initial fight. Miguel told you everything and you squeezed his hands trying to reassure him.

"He didn't listen and look what happened."

"He's young, Miguel. You know how young people is. He'll be fine."

You had to pull him down to kiss his cheek.

"I'll be doing some errands today. Gotta go to the bank to check up some stuff."

"Want me to go with you?"

"Ah don't worry, it's a quick thing. Gotta make sure I've got a separate account from my parents."

He nodded with a little smile.

"Should I send Vicky with you?"

"I appreciate your concern, sweetie but I'll be fine. Can I take the truck with me?"

"Of course. Just wait until Paco returns."

He twirled you and pushed you closer to his chest, his lips delivered kisses ontop of your head, in the meantime Joseph and Paco returned.

And once they did, you left for the bank.

You gotta thank Miguel for the pregnancy glow. Cheeks didn't need any more blush, neither the lips, skin took a day off from breaking out and be radiant as if making you the prettiest pregnant woman in the bank.

Rural life had started to rub on you and your fashion choices, since you now wore a pair of black jeans, leather boots, a tank top and a flannel, and a staple, your own Stetson hat.

As you arrived to the bank, you waited in line, there wasn't much people around, a couple of elderly ladies, and around six people in line. three women including you, and three men.

Knowing that the elder would take their time, you waited in the regular line. A man, a gorgeous looking one waited right behind you. He was tall, fair skinned, well kept beard and someone that overall screamed I breath money.

Yet had decided to await his turn in like like the rest of you. Hazel eyes met with yours before diverting his eyes discretely towards your body.

He smiled at the sight of the plump ass, but his smile faltered upon seeing the golden band around your ring finger and the baby bump that made you look so radiant and beautiful.

Your name was called by the lady in the window. Hazel eyes followed you.

Transaction was completed within some minutes, thankfully way before Miguel showed up in your life you had saved a good chunk of money through the years without your parents knowing, and it had paid off.

You then made a new account with Miguel's last name. A little victory for you. You then went to the customer service section to finish the whole thing.

The same man from before sat a few steps from you.

"Glad to see you're back, Mr. Kravinoff."

He smirked upon your eyes resting on him, studying and taking in his features. Learning his face.

Sergei Kravinoff, owner of the biggest exotic animal collection in town, millionaire, avid hunter and a businessman. He was always up to invest.

You were dispatched at the same time. Boots clicked after him. Jame's words of him being the one that Agustín was sold off to, rang in your head.

"Mr. Kravinoff?" You called and he turned to face you. Even though he was even more handsome up close, your mind was set into getting Agustín back.

You introduced yourself, and his pupils were blown for a second. Hand warm and delicate against his. Touch was just as he had imagined, the picture Rosaura had shown him didn't made you justice.

"Could we have a word?"

He nodded with enthusiasm. He gestured to one of the vacant near tables and sat across you.

"Thanks. I was told that you are familiar with Pastor William's business."

"Yes, I am. Why?"

"I'm aware that you had recently bought a horse from them."

Sergei's eyes widened softly at your words. Gossip sure spread fast. But what truly amused him, was you knowing the punctual details.

Little little town.

"I did, yes." His accent heavy as he leaned on to you.

"I'd like to buy that horse from you."

His mouth gaped softly at your words while blinking.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I'd like to buy Agustín back from you, Mr. Kravinoff."

The way his name rolled off your tongue sent shivers down his spine.

"Oh? The horse had a name?"

"And an owner. Well, more like someone that rescued him."

"Ah, the friesian horse. May I know who this person was?"

"My husband, sir. Agustín was quite neglected and aggressive, he nearly injured the other horses. But my husband rehabilitated him."

"I see."

"Is... the horse sick?"

"No, I've kept him fed and groomed."

You smiled at his words. It sent a little jolt in his heart. You were married. And were set into buying an expensive horse from him as a gift. He wanted to put your patience and love to test.

"You must understand, Mrs...?"

"O'Hara."

A mental note to search him up later popped in Sergei's mind.

"Right. Mrs. O'Hara, you must understand that a friesian purebred is everything but cheap. I could sell a different and cheaper horse if you wish to-."

"No. I want Agustín."

Your spoiled side was slowly coming out, but it made him smile and his heart to beat at such determination.

"Whoever your husband is, must be a lucky man."

"I'm the lucky one. But, let's talk business."

"Twenty five grand. That's my price. I've had to invest in vitamins, a new trainer and new hooves."

"I see"

"If the price is too much I could-"

"No, no. Its fine. Could you send it over to our estate?"

Sergei chuckled, you didn't back down. In fact, you seemed thrilled. But he'd also have the chance to see what kind of husband you had married, that had you writing him a check for twenty five thousand. You were either too inlove or too spoiled to let that sum of money go without much thought.

"Of course."

You gave him a check, his fingers brushed on yours.

"Thanks." He tucked the check in and you stood. Baby bump in full display on him.

"How far are you?"

"Hm? Uh, I'm twelve weeks now."

"Are you excited?"

"Very."

You nodded with a beam.

"Mrs. O'Hara?"

"Yes?"

"The address. For the delivery."

"Oh! right. Sorry."

You scribbled your address in a piece of paper, his eyes didn't leave you. You were excited, happily married to another man he'd have the experience to meet.

He wanted to see who was the man that had snatched you from him. He'd definitely talk to Rosaura later. He wasn't one to be fooled, nor one to leave with empty hands after being promised something.

"There. Thanks for your time."

"Thanks to you, Mrs. O'Hara. "

He nodded with a smile to then watch you leave.

You were over the moon, your luck was on a hight tab today. Things had been rough back at home, and Miguel had been stressing over the littlest things. And to have the chance of getting Agustín back to make him smile, was a chance you weren't letting escape.

You returned to the estate. Marveling at what you were building alongside Miguel. Susprises didn't sit too well in your mouth cause as soon as you saw Miguel, you hugged him from behind and squealed.

"Mind to share what's gotten you like this?"

"I've got you a surprise."

"Do you?"

"Yes. But you will have to wait until tomorrow."

"Alright."

His arms secured around you. Nose tickled with a foreign smell. A man's cologne. His brows furrowed.

"Have I told you how much I'd love to take you right now? With that hat on?"

Your cheeks flushed deeply as you snorted.

"Like, right now now?"

"Missed you."

"I was gone for just a few hours."

"So? Am I not allowed to miss my wife?"

He carried you in his arms like your weight was nothing. In other times he'd throw you over his shoulder and walk away, but since his child was now growing inside, he was careful while carried you bridal style to your bedroom. Vicky only rolled her eyes with a tired smile.

"There is so much to do still, Miguel!"

"Ya regreso." (I'll be back)

His smile was childish, relaxed, and only you could provoke it.

"You haven't even got one kid yet and are already trying for more."

"You'll love them anyways, Ma."

Miguel mumbled with a chuckle before closing the door. He was set into making that scent to go away from you. The only smell he wanted to feel on you was your perfume, his, your sweat or his. To have another besides those, irked him.

Dinner came in a blur. Mary and Susan helped Vicky, her guard towards her was still up but less obvious. She showed them their duties. Susan would remain in the cleaning and crop area, Mary would help in the kitchen and with the animals feeding. Everyone had their new schedules, as everyone participated in different activities.

"Miss Rosaura always arranged dates for la patrona."

Mary attempted her best into not butchering the word, it was a catchy one. Cerecita was reserved only for Miguel and Vicky.

"But the horses always went crazy and they eventually stopped."

Susan giggled upon remembering the last date your mother made you go through. And how Luis ended up chasing away the man.

"That's sounds like Miguel's doing"

"It was."

You joined the conversation with a impish smile. Hair damp, freshly out the shower, just like Miguel that went to supervise the fence. The foreign smell no longer lingered in you.

"He told me that he had trained the horses to not allow anyone but him to ride them."

Vicky couldn't help but shake her head with a smile.

"Ese muchacho..." (That boy)

"Let's serve up."

You and nauseas had a rocky relationship, sometimes they were good and let you have a normal day, other times they were there to make sure you were annoyed enough to sour your mood, ending up in tears over the dumbest things.

Miguel sometimes was truly at lost on how to calm you or make you feel less uncomfortable. But Vicky always helped him out. Without her he'd be at lost on what to do regarding you.

So far she kept you and his baby healthy, even though thanking her was unavoidable, Vicky batted him away. She was as excited as you both were. Sometimes Miguel would talk through the day with Vicky, looking for names.

Only to end up laughing at the ridiculous names some people named their babies. You on the other hand seemed at ease.

"I wanna know what is it gonna be before breaking my head in looking for names."

You've told him, he couldn't wait to have his baby in his arms. Have his family complete, and his dream fulfilled at last.

Sometimes he felt the train of getting a family left him, the thirties were hard enough since he got people reminding him of getting himself one.

Unlike Gabriel, his mind was to settle down and have something he called his, instead of juggling between deciding or not to settle down. But what to do, Gabriel was still young barely passing the twenty seven. You were a year younger than him.

Your tears however made him snap his attention towards you.

"You okay, mi amor?"

"I can't tie my shoes."

He couldn't help but snort at your words while kissing your forehead.

"Let me help you with that."

He put your boots and laced them up to then kiss you and wipe your eyes.

"Better?"

You nodded in between hiccups.

"Let's get you some food."

Morning wasn't as hectic as it used to be, ever since Susan, Mary and James arrived the work load had been evenly distributed. Mostly to be a bit more lenient on you.

The orchard was flourishing, the first herbs were sprouting, and the cattle was on the weekly checkup.

You went to greet Miguel, and Paco called you to the entrance.

"Miss? There is a man looking for you."

"A man? Oh! Right! Let him in."

Paco looked at Miguel that nodded at him, he was already crossing his arms.

"Cerecita?"

"Yes?" Your smile turned wider upon seeing the horse car, passing through the luxurious car leading the small caravan.

"What did you do?"

You giggled and kissed his cheek.

"Your surprise."

"My... My surprise?"

You nodded and pulled him by the hand towards the car. Sergei stepped out, just as his helpers, eyes scrutinizing the place, it'd make a perfect hidden spot he'd use to get away from everything. His attention focused on you once more. The same cologne his nose detected on you, was now impregnated on him.

But Miguel’s eyes forced his eyes to focus on him. Sergei couldn't hide the surprise on his face, he was tall, but your husband taller, beefier and meaner looking.

And for you to handle him like putty made him chuckle. But what man wouldn't fall under your sweetness? Or at least be tempted enough to fall?

Miguel loomed behind you, like a shadow, hands on both of your shoulders, his golden ring shining a bit too bright for Sergei's likings. But this was not his territory, and the man behind you wouldn't hesitate to put him in his place if needed.

"Mrs. O'Hara."

He greeted with a brief and polite nod, along a smile that didn't set right in Miguel's eyes.

"Mr. Kravinoff."

"Please, call me Sergei."

"Right. This is my husband, Miguel."

The handshake was a terrible display of subtleness between both. Miguel had to give the man credit for squeezing as hard as he was. Eyes locked on eachother for a second, devoid of emotion, even though Sergei understood he wasn't the boss, he didn't let Miguel intimidate him.

"A pleasure to meet you at last, Mr. O'Hara."

Miguel nodded and let his hand go.

"I must say, your wife and her offer took me by surprise. But now, I understand the why."

Sergei smiled, a bit of defeat etched in his face but he quickly turned away and motioned both to follow him. Once more you pulled Miguel closer and guided him to face his surprise.

Sergei's helpers pulled with utmost care the ever familiar horse. The reason why you both had met in the first place. Agustín.

Sergei watched you and Miguel from the shadow the car offered and so far he hadn't find anything that dictated you were unhappy. All the opposite, your moonstruck look over the gigantic man just deepened until it morphed into a dashing beam upon seeing his reaction.

Miguel's expression was something he couldn't compete with. He looked genuinely surprised, and he was unable to resist the urge to kiss you, nearly knocking your hat off your pretty head.

And your laugh at seeing your husband happy, had the millionaire casting his eyes down. He was no match for the man right next to you. Even the horse seemed to like him a bit too much. While Agustín had given him cooperation, he didn't go past that. But with Miguel, there was a bond. A precedent, and it showed as the stallion flared and pawed at the floor as soon as Miguel touched him.

All thanks to you. His wife.

Big arms held you so gently and lovingly as he kissed your temple and your heart was melting. You loved eachother, only fools would think otherwise.

Sergei delivered a little presentation card to you, which Miguel took a peek from.

"Are you satisfied, Mrs. O'Hara?"

"Pretty much. Thanks. Thanks for keeping Agustín in great conditions."

"Any animal that goes under my care is treated with respect. As it should."

You smiled at Sergei's words.

"If it's alright, I'd like to give you something."

His eyes looked at Miguel, asking for permission to grant you something else.

"What is it?"

Miguel spoke. His voice deep and borderline raspy.

"Relax, husband." He chuckled while another horse was pulled away from the carriage. A pinto friesian mare.

"You see, since Agustín came under my wing, he took a like to Nina."

The mare immediately trotted over Agustín's side giving a little neigh.

"Oh, but... I only paid for Agustín, Sergei."

Miguel couldn't help but harden his features over his name and the underlying intentions behind his actions.

"I know. But it's a gift. You see, Agustín had been under alot of stress, new place, new routine, and having him separated from Nina would definitely cause a setback into his progress."

"You seem to know alot about animal behaviors, Mr. Kravinoff."

Miguel's tone wasn't mocking or derisive, a bit jealous perhaps but also curious and cautious.

"I'm a collector, sir. And a hunter. Understanding them must be a must for me. Besides, Nina is foaling."

"I see."

"And also, a potential investor if you're willing."

"Property is not on sale."

"Sorry if my words have offended you, but no. Even though is tempting, I can tell it holds unmeasurable value for you. I respect that."

You hand rubbed on Miguel's lower back, appeasing his rising temper.

"I'm always for the look in business, cattle and horses are my specialty. I will recommend your training services to my friends, if you allow me."

"That would be great, new contacts are always welcomed."

Your chirped as the mare nuzzled your hand. Joseph and James took the horses to the stable.

Sergei shook hands with you and Miguel, and once he left he cupped your cheeks to give you a breathtaking kiss that had you panting and gasping for air.

"You..."

"Me?"

You giggled and kissed again.

"How... much you paid for Agustín, Cerecita?"

"I won't tell. Just needed to get him back for you."

"It's not that I'm not being grateful, but-"

"I know they're not cheap, Miguel. But I wanted to, ok?"

"Don't splurge your money on me, Mi reina."

"You kidding, right?, I know you aren't that comfortable in me splurging. I know things have changed. But I wanted to."

"I'm not mad, ok? I am not angry, just-"

"What?"

"How come you approached him first?"

You couldn't help but giggle, he frowned even though you kissed his cheek.

"Are you jealous?"

"No"

"You're a terrible liar, Miguel."

You smooched him

"I could smell him on you."

"Ah yeah, his cologne was killing me. Had to retch as soon as I saw a bathroom"

He chuckled and fixed the hat on your head.

"I approached him cause James told us his name, and of course I wouldn't let a chance to get Agustín back go. He's your horse."

"An expensive horse, that is"

"But yours again, completely. It's my wedding gift."

He squeezed you in his arms and showered your face with kisses.

"Canija. No sabes cuanto te amo." (You imp, you don't know how much I love you.)

"I think I do have an idea."

"Let me show you."

Sergei steps were heavy the more he ventured in your parent's home. Rosaura's smile faded upon watching his sour expression.

"You never told me your daughter was already married and pregnant, Mrs. Anderton."

Rosaura's eyes widened in discomfort, unable to hold the lie anymore.

"W-What do you mean. She's-"

"I don't like liars."

"Where did you see her?"

"At the bank. Bought me the horse you sold me."

"That brat."

"Brat?" His brows raised on the term, "I saw nothing but a happy couple back there."

"You went to their home?!"

"Why do I feel you're not giving me a true complete picture of what is going on?"

"Sergei, son. Look. That man she is married to used to work here. He was the stable boy. He seduced my daughter and stole her away from-"

Sergei's hand halted her from speaking further.

"I think I will do business elsewhere, Mrs. Anderton. I like my business partners to be sincere in all sense of the word."

"Just give me time, Sergei , I promise to bring her back-"

"It's Mr. Kravinoff for you, madam. And my decision is final. Will communicate with your husband later. Have a good day."

Despite Rosaura's protest, Sergei left. Leaving a fuming and fearful mother behind. She was in trouble with Pastor William. Business were to not messed up, yet she had. Their best client gone.

But you, oh how you infuriated her and made her blood boil.

You had splurged on Miguel. A man you had called your husband. A man that belonged to a family that forced hers to move out from their rightful home a long time ago back in the outskirts of Nueva York.

A family that had stripped her from everything she held dear. Everything under the influence of George O'Hara.

And now his step son had taken you away.

If George was no longer alive to withstand her revenge, someone had to pay. And she decided that Miguel would.

He would pay for the sins of his father. Whether he like it or not.

#miguel o'hara #t writes✨#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara fluff #Ranchero! Miguel #miguel spiderman #spider man 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 fanfiction #Mi Dulce Cereza #Ranch girl! reader #Spotify

350 notes · View notes

mistydeyes · 9 months

Text

the butterfly effect: you die because of their actions

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summary: The butterfly effect "the idea that small things can have non-linear impacts on a complex system. The concept is imagined with a butterfly flapping its wings and causing a typhoon." Everyone never believed the saying, that was until you died at the hands of your love.

pairing: 141 x fem!Reader

warnings: SWEARING, character death (previously established relationship)

a/n: my first angst piece for the rest of the 141!

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price

Price's mind raced as he shoved the doors open to the post-operation recovery wing. If he had known you would end up on the end of a gun, he would have never put you in this position. He never would have introduced you to General Shepherd.

When you met John, still known as a Lieutenant at the time, you were a First Lieutenant in the US Marine Corps. You were an expert at planning travel and assault routes and the SAS used your skills to their advantage. You worked together in a joint-op in Canada, one that required you both to find refuge in a snowed-out cabin. No one was surprised when you both emerged as a couple. Now after 13 years of dating and a happy marriage, you lived a comfortable life together. You had two daughters, both away in college, and lived close to Price's home in England. You made sacrifices, dividing your time in the English countryside with an apartment in DC.

Price was away on a mission as you sat in your countryside home. Last you heard, he was in Amsterdam with Sergeant Garrick. He was unreachable but you knew there was a fair share of times when you had the same status. Laswell had informed you that something had gone on with his unit and after reassuring you John was safe, she encouraged you to stay low in your home. You informed your daughters and they would soon be escorted to your house. Laswell had arranged a security detail for you and you sat at your living room table with a concealed firearm for protection.

As you tried to drink some tea, a series of knocks were heard from the door. You recognized it and holstered your gun as you answered. You opened the door to reveal General Shepherd, an old friend that John had introduced you to at a military ball. "General Shepherd, what a pleasant surprise," you said as you ushered him in, "can I get you anything?" "Just some water if you don't mind, Captain," he said and followed you into the kitchen. As you turned your back to him, he made polite conversation. "Captain, you didn't tell John about the op in the Middle East, right?" he asked and you remembered providing input on a cargo route earlier last year. "Of course not, General," you answered as you finished pouring the glass." "Then no harsh feelings, Captain," was the last thing you heard before you fell against the counter, a bullet lodged in the back of your head.

Back to the present time, Price shoved past the queue and slammed his fists on the receptionist's table. Laswell informed him that he was needed at the hospital immediately as you were in critical condition. He had taken the first flight home from Chicago and was now helplessly begging to see you. "Where is my wife?" he roared as the nurse sheepishly asked him for the name of the patient. "Captain Y/N Price," he said and she quickly typed it in for him. "She's not here, sir," she said quietly as he shook with rage, "she's in the morgue."

Your funeral came with all the proper traditions for a Captain. As the decorated Marines played Taps and folded a US flag, Price held onto your daughters' hands tightly. As a soldier presented him with the flag and your dog tags, he broke down in tears as your daughters joined. The last Price saw of you was your casket being lowered into the Arlington dirt.

As Price prepared to finally kill General Shepherd, he clutched your dog tags and wedding ring close to his neck. He pulled out a picture of you and your wedding day and kissed it before heading to finally end the bastard.

soap

After months of waiting the day was finally here. You and Johnny were expecting your first child after trying for so long. As you rested in a recliner, he had decorated the nursery with all the preparations for a newborn. You decided on a space theme for their room and Johnny would call the baby "our little astronaut." For the last month before you were due, Price let Johnny head home to be with you as he had known this is when you needed him most. When your water broke that morning, Johnny quickly rushed you to the hospital. The baby was two weeks early and you could feel the painful contractions as you entered the delivery room. You were in agonizing pain as the doctors delivered an epidural. Johnny could only watch helplessly as you were in labor for 10 hours.

He held your hand tightly as you screamed. "I see a head!" the doctor exclaimed and the nurses encouraged you to continue pushing. Even with the epidural, you felt dizzy and your eyes watered from the torment of childbirth. The room smelled of iron and blood as it pooled around your body. The doctor's hands were coated in the red liquid as you continued to push. "Almost there, love," Johnny reassured you as his hands turned white from your grip. "She's coming out beautifully, Mrs. Mactavish," the doctor reassured. "You hear that, it's a girl," Johnny exclaimed, "she's going to have my charm and your looks." You gave him a weak smile as the doctor updated him on how far out the baby was.

Finally, as the child exited into the doctor's arms, you released Johnny's hand. You slumped back into the bed as a nurse tended to your sweating face with a washcloth. The doctor delicately wiped the baby and swaddled her in a fresh blanket. "You can cut the umbilical cord, Dad," another nurse said as your baby girl cried. "Hi little one" he whispered as he cut the umbilical cord. He held her small hands with his and went to give her to you. But as soon as he turned, he saw your face was ghostly white. The monitor loudly beeped as the nurses and doctor began to panic. "She's losing a lot of blood," the doctor said as the room was thrown into chaos. Your vitals were beginning to drop and a nurse screamed for a crash cart. The delivery unit's PA system informed other attending nurses of a Code Blue and a variety of new staff rushed into the room. "Sir, you need to leave," a nurse demanded as he saw someone perform chest compressions. "She's not breathing," someone else yelled and Johnny tried to fight his way to the front. Everything was happening in slow motion as he held the baby close and saw you convulse under the shocks of a defibrillator.

"What's happening to her?" he demanded before he was shoved into the hallway. The nurses quickly closed the curtains as Johnny pounded on the glass. His hand grew numb as he fell defeated with your daughter in his arms. After 5 minutes, the doctor emerged. "You better tell me right fucking now what's going on," Johnny screamed at her. "I'm sorry sir, she's gone," she said and he could barely hear her say that you flatlined after a tremendous loss of blood. When she finished, he broke down and let the entire hospital hear his cries and screams.

As he cradled your daughter's head, the baby wailed and Soap joined his heartbroken song. A new life in exchange for one lost.

gaz

"Kyle, I don't know about this," you said as you boarded the plane. "C'mon love, teenage recruits do this," he encouraged as you both strapped in. Kyle had heard about a skydiving experience and convinced you to go. He used the fact that it was his birthday and you swallowed your doubts about flying. As the plane ascended, you gripped his hand tightly. You always had a fear of flying and even had a psychic tell you that flying would be involved with your death. Kyle comfortingly drew circles on your hands as you approached the descent level.

“Alright, flyers! It’s almost time!” you heard the pilot announce through the cabin. Kyle helped you unbuckle and guided you to the tandem diver. He introduced you both and the tandem diver promised a safe descent. “This is my 1000th flight, doll, you’ll be fine,” he reassured and helped to strap you in. You smiled nervously as Kyle similarly strapped into his flyer. He insisted you take a picture together as you shakily gave a thumbs up.

“Here we go!” Kyle’s tandem flyer shouted and they leapt out of the airplane. You tried not to look down as you swallowed your fear. You then felt your legs leave the plane as you and your flyer jumped into the sky. As you felt the rush of air on your face, you kept your eyes shut closed. “Look at me baby!” you heard Kyle shout and you peeked through your fluttering eyelids to see him smiling widely and holding his arms out. You tried to emulate his actions but as you looked up at your flyer, you could see him panic.

Something was wrong as Gaz also saw that your parachute had not yet deployed. He saw the tandem diver struggle to deploy the reserve but that too seemed to fail. He screamed at you as you both flew closer and closer to the ground. You looked up at him in fear and tried to reach out before gravity and the lack of a chute pulled you forcefully to the Earth's surface.

Gaz could only watch helplessly as you and your guide plummeted to the ground. He let out a flood of tears and screams but they too fell and followed along with your deadly descent.

ghost

Ghost watched in horror as two people sat next to one another on a platform. From what he could see, one of the people was a clear head taller than the other and they squirmed in their bindings. Their heads were covered in burlap and they both were sporting matching jackets that hit their figure. "Make the choice, Simon," Makarov said as his voice crackled through the comms, "your wife or best friend." Ghost's eyes dilated in horror as he realized Makarov's implications. "Before you try to be the hero, just know that I'm watching you," he taunted and Ghost knew there was no way out.

His mind flooded with any possible solution but he could not find any. This was supposed to be an easy fucking recon mission that only he and Johnny had to handle. Now he was without allies, without options, and an alternative plan. He shakily put his hand on the sniper's trigger as he fluctuated between looking at you and Soap. Beads of sweat pooled at his neck as he tried to think of any way to get you both out of this alive.

"Time is ticking, Simon," Makarov spoke again, "If you don't choose, they'll both die." That moment, two fluorescent dots appeared on your heads and he knew that somewhere two snipers were ready to take you both out if he didn't decide. Ghost's mind was clouded, he wondered if there was any way to save both of you but came up empty. The deadline and the thrashing of the two figures under their restraints made him finally decide. He made the most difficult decision of his life, he would save you instead of Soap. He couldn't live without you.

He said a silent prayer for his friend as he lined his sights. "Just stay still, Johnny," he painfully whispered as you both fought against your bindings. He knew a bullet straight through the heart would result in a quick and painless death. He held his breath as the gun fired, making a direct target with the body. It fell back in with a sickening thump and Ghost dropped the gun before rushing towards you.

Makarov was always one step ahead of the team. Ghost ran to the scene to see that the chair's size had deceived his eyes. One of the people who Ghost had assumed was taller than the other, was sitting on an elevated crate. The other figure thrashed about but Ghost was more focused on the one in front of him. As he went to pull the bag over what he believed was Soap's body, he was horrified to discover it was you, a single gunshot through the heart. A bullet he had sent into you. You died choking on your blood because of his actions.

As Ghost clutched your body in agony, his tears and screams echoed in the empty lot. In his haste, he had killed you and was now alone again in the world.

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858 notes · View notes

zapreportsblog · 9 months

Text

Moves Like Jagger

➥ summary: when in need of an distraction (y/n) is your gal

➥ a/n: this was requested by @alathan13 once again I deeeply appreciate your request, they explained it to me in detail in my messages/inbox and I’m happy to comply and get this out there for you. The name of this story is based off the song and was actually the first thing that came to mind for me when writing this

➥ spider gang x reader

The sun was just beginning to set over as Miguel O'Hara, the leader of a highly skilled and diverse team, stood in his office, contemplating the imminent mission that had been brought to his attention. He knew it was not a task to be taken lightly, and assembling the perfect team was crucial. Each member had unique talents, and he believed their combined skills would work harmoniously for this mission.

Miguel took a deep breath, picking up his communicator and sending out the call to action. First on his list was (y/n), the woman with an uncanny ability to adapt to any situation and a remarkable talent for understanding and connecting with people. As the communicator buzzed, (y/n) picked up and greeted Miguel with enthusiasm.

"Hey, Miguel! What's up?" (y/n) asked cheerfully.

"Hey, (y/n)," Miguel replied. "I need you to come to my office. We have a mission that I think your talents would be perfect for."

Intrigued by the promise of a new challenge, (y/n) agreed without hesitation. She quickly made her way to Miguel's office, a sense of anticipation building with each step.

Next on the list was Miles Morales, a skilled and resourceful young man with incredible agility and the ability to blend into the shadows with ease. He answered the call, and Miguel extended the invitation for him to join the mission.

"Miles, we have a mission that requires your stealth and quick thinking," Miguel explained. "I need you here."

Miles was eager to accept, knowing that his abilities would be put to good use. He swung through the city's skyline using his Spider-Man powers, arriving at Miguel's office in no time.

Miguel's next call was to Gwen Stacy, also known as Spider-Woman or Ghost Spider to some. With her impressive acrobatic skills and scientific genius, she was a valuable asset to the team. When Gwen received Miguel's call, she immediately agreed to join the mission.

"Pavitr Prabhakar, I need your help as well," Miguel said when the next call connected. Pavitr, also known as Spider-Man India, was a skilled fighter and had the ability to harness the power of a mystical amulet. He gladly accepted the mission and prepared to join the others.

Finally, Miguel called Hobie Brown, also known as Spider-Man or Spider Punk to some. Hobie was an expert in stealth and technology, making him a vital member of the team. Hobie was ready for action and was eager to contribute his skills to the mission.

With the team assembled, they all arrived at Miguel's office, their faces filled with determination and readiness. Miguel wasted no time and began explaining the mission.

"Thank you all for coming," Miguel began. "We have a situation that requires all of your unique abilities. A dangerous criminal organization has obtained a highly advanced piece of technology that could wreak havoc on the city. Our mission is to infiltrate their hideout, neutralize the threat, and retrieve the technology."

As Miguel laid out the plan, he highlighted how each member's special talents would be crucial for the success of the mission. He emphasized (y/n)'s ability to gather valuable intel, Miles' agility for reconnaissance, Gwen's scientific expertise to handle the technology, Pavitr's combat skills for confrontation, and Hobie's knowledge of stealth and technology to disable security systems.

Each member nodded in understanding, fully aware of the gravity of the mission and the responsibility that rested on their shoulders. Their unwavering commitment to protecting the city and its inhabitants fueled their determination to succeed.

Miguel concluded, "This won't be easy, and it won't be without risks. But I believe in each and every one of you. Together, we can take down this organization and keep our city safe."

With newfound determination in their hearts, the team prepared for the mission ahead. They knew that this mission would test their limits, but they also knew that their bond as a team and their unique talents would give them the edge they needed to prevail.

As they headed out into the night, a sense of camaraderie filled the air. They were not just a team; they were a family, united by their commitment to protect the city they loved. Their journey had just begun, and they were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that together, they were unstoppable.

•••

Inside the dimly lit building, the team found themselves facing a group of guards standing watch near a heavily secured door. Gwen assessed the situation with a furrowed brow, knowing they needed a distraction to get past the guards without alerting others inside.

"We need to get past those guards without raising awareness to the others that may be inside," Gwen said, her mind working quickly to devise a plan.

Miles nodded in agreement. "So basically, someone needs to distract them," he added.

Pavitr hesitated for a moment before speaking up, "Well, it can't be me."

"Why not?" Gwen asked, placing a hand on her hip.

Hobie chimed in with a smirk, "Cause those bloody guards are men, and in case you haven't noticed it, love, so are us three.... That leaves you and (y/n)."

Gwen turned to (y/n) with a knowing look, and a determined glint appeared in (y/n)'s eyes. "Oh hell yeah, I've been waiting for this," she said with a confident grin.

Gwen nodded in approval. "Alright, (y/n), you're up. Time to work your magic."

The plan was set, and the team positioned themselves strategically, preparing to execute their diversion. Miles, Gwen, and Hobie took cover, blending into the shadows while keeping a close eye on the guards. Meanwhile, (y/n) took a deep breath, her heart pounding with adrenaline.

Moving with grace and confidence, (y/n) sauntered out into the open, catching the guards' attention. Her confident demeanor drew their focus away from the others, and they turned their gaze towards her, intrigued by the sudden appearance of an unexpected guest.

"Hey there, handsome," (y/n) purred, putting on an enchanting smile as she approached the guards.

Miles watched in awe as (y/n) effortlessly captivated the guards with her charm. Gwen and Hobie exchanged impressed glances, realizing they had made the right choice. (y/n)'s ability to connect with people and disarm them with her charisma was truly remarkable.

As (y/n) engaged the guards in conversation, she skillfully weaved her way through the questions they threw her way. While she had their full attention, Miles, Gwen, and Hobie quietly moved past, making their way closer to the heavily guarded door.

Gwen skillfully disabled the security system with her scientific expertise, while Hobie kept an eye out for any unexpected threats that might be lurking nearby. Meanwhile, Miles used his stealth to scout the area for any additional guards that might pose a risk.

(y/n) continued to hold the guards' attention, making light conversation as she skillfully steered them away from the entrance. Her wit and charm kept them captivated, and she didn't miss a beat, subtly leading them further from the team's location.

All was well, up until Hobie accidentally knocked something over. “Oops”

As Hobie accidentally knocked over a loose metal crate while trying to maintain his balance, the loud clatter echoed through the otherwise silent corridor. The guards' eyes shot towards the source of the noise, and their suspicions were immediately aroused. They had been trained to be alert and vigilant, and the sudden noise was enough to trigger their instincts.

Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr quickly took cover, preparing for a confrontation. However, (y/n) remained unfazed, as if the unexpected turn of events had simply become part of the choreography. Her heart raced with adrenaline, the thrill of the impending challenge fueling her spirit.

As the guards rushed towards the team, (y/n) sprang into action, moving with a fluid grace that was almost hypnotic. She twisted and swayed like a tango dancer, her movements calculated yet mesmerizing, effortlessly evading the guards' advances.

With a swift and elegant spin, she ducked under the first guard's attempted punch, her body twisting gracefully as she slid behind him. Before he could react, (y/n) delivered a swift and precise kick to the back of his knee, causing him to buckle and collapse to the ground.

“Oh my god!” Pavitr says watching (y/n)’s every move. “Oh my god she’s doing the thing!”

“What thing?” miles asks.

“That thing from that movie! You know the fight scene thing! She’s fighting those guards and dancing!”

Her every movement was like a dance, each step flowing seamlessly into the next. As the second guard lunged towards her, (y/n) stepped to the side, seamlessly guiding his momentum to miss her entirely. Her movements were as fluid as the steps of a tango, each one calculated and harmoniously connected.

In one swift motion, she reached out and grabbed the guard's arm, twisting it behind his back with such precision that he could do nothing but follow her lead. The two moved in perfect synchronization, their bodies dancing in harmony with the rhythm of the fight.

As the dance of combat continued, (y/n) used her agility to her advantage, effortlessly evading the guard's strikes and retaliating with her own well-timed moves. Every punch and kick were executed with the grace and precision of a dancer, leaving the guard bewildered and off-balance.

With a final flourish, (y/n) sent the guard spinning away, leaving him sprawled on the ground, disarmed and defeated. She stood tall, her chest heaving with adrenaline, a triumphant smile on her lips.

“Yessssss Queen!” Pavitr screams out jumping up and down in excitement only to be stopped and hit on the shoulder by Hobie.

“Sorry,” he whispers having noticed just how loud he was being.

The team watched in awe, realizing they were witnessing something extraordinary. (y/n)'s unique fighting style was a breathtaking display of skill and artistry, blending the grace of a dancer with the precision of a master martial artist.

As the echoes of the fight dance scene subsided, (y/n) turned to her teammates, a spark of excitement in her eyes. "Shall we keep going?" she asked, her voice laced with confidence.

Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr exchanged glances, reinvigorated by (y/n)'s energy. Together, they stood ready to face any challenge that lay ahead, knowing that with their collective talents and (y/n)'s extraordinary dance of combat, they were an unstoppable force.

With renewed determination, the team pressed on, knowing that the mission was far from over. But in that moment, they felt a deeper connection than ever before, united not only by their shared purpose but also by the unique bond they had forged through the artistry of their fight dance scene.

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probablyasocialecologist · 3 months

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What if Tucson’s million new trees — and the rest of the country’s — didn’t just keep sidewalks cool? What if they helped feed people, too? That’s what Brandon Merchant hopes will happen on the shadeless south side of Tucson, a city where about one-fifth of the population lives more than a mile from a grocery store. He’s working on a project to plant velvet mesquite trees that thrive in the dry Sonoran Desert and have been used for centuries as a food source. The mesquite trees’ seed pods can be ground into a sweet, protein-rich flour used to make bread, cookies, and pancakes. Merchant, who works at the Community Food Bank of Southern Arizona, sees cultivating mesquite around the city and surrounding areas as an opportunity to ease both heat and hunger. The outcome could be a network of “food forests,” community spaces where volunteers tend fruit trees and other edible plants for neighbors to forage. “Thinking about the root causes of hunger and the root causes of health issues, there are all these things that tie together: lack of green spaces, lack of biodiversity,” Merchant said. (The food bank received half a million dollars from the Biden administration through the Inflation Reduction Act.) Merchant’s initiative fits into a national trend of combining forestry — and Forest Service funding — with efforts to feed people. Volunteers, school teachers, and urban farmers in cities across the country are planting fruit and nut trees, berry bushes, and other edible plants in public spaces to create shade, provide access to green space, and supply neighbors with free and healthy food. These food forests, forest gardens, and edible parks have sprouted up at churches, schools, empty lots, and street corners in numerous cities, including Boston, Philadelphia, Atlanta, Seattle, and Miami. “It’s definitely growing in popularity,” said Cara Rockwell, who researches agroforestry and sustainable food systems at Florida International University. “Food security is one of the huge benefits.” There are also numerous environmental benefits: Trees improve air quality, suck carbon from the atmosphere, and create habitat for wildlife, said Mikaela Schmitt-Harsh, an urban forestry expert at James Madison University in Virginia. “I think food forests are gaining popularity alongside other urban green space efforts, community gardens, green rooftops,” she added. “All of those efforts, I think, are moving us in a positive direction.”

#food forest #trees #urban trees #food security

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hoshifighting · 5 months

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Code of temptation

Synopsis: When a series of cyber threats puts national security at risk, Y/N is assigned to lead the investigation. Her team is complemented by Vernon, a computer genius known for his dexterity in deciphering the most complex codes.

Words: +1k

Reader! SecretAgent x Vernon! Hacker

Warnings: Smut, oral (f. receiving), penetrative sex, exhibitionism, unprotected sex (wrap it up), dry humping, fingering, hair pulling, chocking, dirty talk and etc.

Your tight TechWear is starting to get uncomfortable, your fingers attached to the trigger, and your arms are already weak from holding the heavy gun, one wrong movement, everything is done. You wait for the sign from Mingyu, who is already in position to catch the target “1, 2, 3… Now!” he says in the little point of sound in your ear, and you do your shot.

The bullet hits the target directly in the head, and Mingyu runs in the middle of the basement to steal the small device that is the pivot of the mission you have been working on for the last few weeks. The both of you run to the back door, you enter the armored car that awaits you.

“Objective accomplished successfully, mission completed with distinction and mastery.” Your chief says on the other line. Body finally relaxing on the car seat, while you do a little weak punch on Mingyu’s hand.

[…]

“We did a great Job Mr. Lee, we trained for this, but it’s difficult ultimately, they are more attached to the systems day by day, so we need to take action, and ask for the Department Head to recruit a Technical Expert, so we can obtain coordinates during missions” you point your pencil on the map in front of you “Promise me that by the end of the month, we will have some ‘technology guru’ to help us, and I promise to complete another mission as always.” that said, you leave the meeting room slamming the door loudly.

[…]

You hold a cup of coffee while you try to decipher the nominal codes on the computer screen, you snort and immediately give up on understanding the logic of the system in front of you. The computer room doorbell rings, and you can see a young man with brown hair waiting for the door to be opened, showing his FBI badge. You put your fingerprint into the system, and the door is slowly opened, revealing the boy, holding the shoulder strap from his backpack, wearing a black uniform, just like yours.

“First off all, I am almost freaking the fuck out seeing all these algorithms with letters on the same screen” you point to the computer with raised eyebrows, and he closes the door behind him “and we should have met before the mission started, but since you're here now, we need to track them down as quickly as possible.” He agrees and sit on the chair in front of the desk.

“My name is Vernon by the way” the sarcasm is proliferated from his lips, while he maintains an extremely unbothered expression.

You snort incredulous at his audacity - even though the ironic tone in his voice may not have been intentional - you stop to look at him from top to bottom, analyzing his mannerisms until he actually starts doing something on the electronic device that hovers in front of him “very funny of you, but I would like more respect since I am leading this mission, and the hierarchy is very-“

“Oh come on don’t play like you’re 10 years older than me!” He says with the face still buried on the screen “and since you are leading the mission amidst so much cyber invasion, you should at least know how to clear your history, if I were your enemy, and found out that you listen to the same Backstreet Boys song for 9 hours straight, you would definitely no longer be my target, freaky ass girl”

The heels on your feet touches the cold ground towards him “This is an invasion of privacy!” You turn the chair, so now you make eye contact with him, pressing his shoulders on the chair.

“This is being on the verge of madness!” You let him go, sitting on the couch on the other corner of the room, drinking your coffee ashamed.

The clicks on the mouse and the sound of the keys were driving you crazy, until he lifted his back from the chair and widened his eyes towards the computer, you run to see the screen popping a map with a lot of red ropes interlinked “Fuck! they’re on the building!” You recognize the structure of the department you are hiding in, running to get your guns attached to your waist, while Vernon turns off the trackers “We need to run away right now, we don’t have time!” You hold his arm, and you run through the company halls, until you leave the building, running down the opposite street. You led the way, while Vernon, the shy hacker, tripped over his own legs. The sound of sirens echoed through the streets, mixing with the frenetic rhythm of your footsteps. The cobblestone streets made escape even more challenging.

"Y/N, I think they saw us!", Vernon exclaimed, breathing hard.

You threw a quick glance behind you, displaying a confident grin. "Don't worry, Vernon, I have a foolproof plan." you say with pure sarcasm, and with a quick gesture, you grabbed Vernon's hand and led you into a narrow alley. The space between the two of you is tiny, you can clearly feel Vernon's minty breath hitting your face, the space doesn't help either, as your breasts are pressed against Vernon's chest - he'd be lying if he said he wasn't starting to like it.

The tension in the air was palpable as your eyes met, breathing heavily, you shared a moment of complicity that transcended the imminent danger. You instinctively grabbed Vernon's forearm, running your fingers over the skin still warm from running his eyes revealed a mixture of surprise and expectation, an electrically charged silence filled the narrow alley as your proximity grew. You, who are normally focused and fearless, felt a unique vulnerability at that moment. Then, without words, but with a shared intensity, you leaned slightly towards Vernon. The world around him disappeared when his lips finally touched, an instant of defiant lust in the midst of chaos. The narrow alley became a stage for the beginning of an immense desire between the two of you.

His right hand goes to your neck, pulling your hair, and the other, grab the meat of your ass, you moan in his mouth - you had even forgotten that you had a small beef with him earlier -, your hand goes down until you can fill your hand with his hardened cock, making him stop the kiss to bite his lip “Turn around” he orders. You hardly turn because of the compact space, and now your ass was pressed against his dick, as he pulls your skirt up, massaging your clit over the thin fabric of your panties “More, we don’t have time!” You whisper, and he slaps your cunt “Stop being hasty! Where's your 'foolproof' plan uh?” a high pitched moan leave your mouth, your hands holding on the little bricks of the wall so your face doesn't lie on them.

Vernon pulls your panties to the side, entering his fingers in your cunt, you hump your ass against him, feeling he hiss in your ear, the wet noises from your pussy and the sound of your panting breaths fills the alley, you moan feeling him going faster with his fingers. He suddenly stops the movement, opening his jeans, so he can slide his cock through your folds. “You are so hot, but fuck, you are so annoying!” he pulls your hair, slowly moving his hips finally diving into your heat, your eyes roll at the back of your head, his mouth kissing your neck.

The space was small, but he was doing wonder with his hips, circling his hips so his tip brushes against your g spot, making your legs go numb, you're lucky that he held you tight with an arm around your hip “Such a whore… Tsk”

You can hear footsteps approaching you, while a light from a flashlight approaches, Vernon pulls you to hide deeper in the alley.

“I think I heard something coming from here!"

He covers your mouth with one hand as he bites your shoulder, furrowing his eyebrows, still pounding deep inside of you, feeling your juices run down your thighs.

“It must be all in your head, come on, they must have gone that way!”

Vernon pulls you to rest your back against his chest, chocking you, while his hips are working faster “Afraid of being caught hm? So nervous that got you clenching so hard around my cock.” Your mouth opens, as you feel your orgasm approaching, his dirty talk between his moans was driving you crazy, squeezing him, while he throw his head back. “Fuck, I’m cumming” his cock twitches inside of your pussy, shooting ropes of cum inside of you, moaning low in your ear.

You can feel his cum running down your legs, he starts to rub your clit again, so slow it almost burns, his scent invading your nostrils, making your mind go blank, your body begins to tense, and an intense climax makes your legs shake, as he laughs proudly in your ear “Hmm… Thats it! Good girl..” He turns you around, so now you're face to face with him again, his kisses going down your jaw, as he fix your skirt.

“The night isn't over yet, we still have targets to catch” he gets dressed again “but first, let me clean you up” he bends down, licking your thighs, until he reaches your pussy, holding your leg up on his shoulder, while you tremble sensitive. He stands up, wiping his mouth with his thumb. Vernon steals a kiss from you, before pulling you to run through the streets once again.

#seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #vernon smut #seventeen imagines #svt smut #hansol vernon chwe #chwe vernon #chwe hansol x reader #seventeen reactions #seventeen headcanons #vernon x reader #vernon #vernon angst #hoshifighting writes

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zvaigzdelasas · 23 days

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President Joe Biden is showing no signs of trying to restrict or withhold the billions the U.S. spends each year in military aid to Israel, despite growing concerns that some of those weapons are being used in bombings that kill civilians.

The U.S. has sent more military and foreign aid to Israel than any other country, including a 10-year, $38 billion program that supplies some $3.3 billion in foreign military sales to Israel each year.

U.S. officials insist that most weapons transfers since the Israeli-Hamas war began were approved long before it started and would be legally challenging to stop.

But some experts say the U.S. has the power to reverse course if it wanted to.

"There are all kinds of ways to speed up or slow down arms transfers," said retired Col. Steve Ganyard, an ABC News contributor and former deputy assistant secretary at the State Department's Bureau for Military-Political Affairs, which oversees foreign weapons sales.

"You can slow the system down to a crawl," Ganyard added. "If the administration or the Congress wanted to shut things down, they could. But it's a matter of political will.".[...]

"The security relationship we have with Israel is not just about Gaza" and the Hamas attack in Israel on Oct. 7," said Secretary of State Antony Blinken. "It's also about the threats posed Israel, by Hezbollah, by Iran, by various other actors in the region -- each one of which has vowed one way or another, to try to destroy Israel."

The question of restricting military sales grew increasingly urgent this week after an Israeli airstrike killed seven aid workers delivering food to Gaza amid a worsening humanitarian crisis. Israel said it was investigating the incident and calling it a grave mistake.

The Pentagon said it couldn't say if the weapons in the strike were American-made, but noted that Israel was expected to honor its promise to use weapons in accordance with international law.

White House National Security Council spokesman John Kirby said the administration was "outraged" by the strike and insists that Israel be more careful in its operations against Hamas. At the same time, Kirby made clear the U.S. wouldn't use military aid as leverage and "hang some sort of condition" around Israel's "neck."[...]

"We have a situation where the Netanyahu government continues to rebuff the president of the United States time and time again, ignores reasonable requests," said Sen. Chris Van Hollen, a Maryland Democrat, in an interview Sunday with ABC's "This Week."

"And what do we do? We say we're going to send more bombs," Van Hollen said.

Van Hollen and other Democrats have been investigating legislation on the matter, although it's not clear such a measure would gather enough support to pass or overcome a presidential veto.

Josh Paul, a former senior State Department official and outspoken critic of Biden's policy toward Israel, told ABC News that there was consensus among an internal working group before he resigned from the State Department that found Israel violated legal requirements to receive U.S. aid.

Under the law, the U.S. can't supply military aid or training to countries that violate human rights. Biden has also specified that aid shouldn't go to countries that "more likely than not" are used to commit or facilitate genocide or break international law.[...]

"at the same time we are having [allegedly tough] conversations we are authorizing billions of dollars in military aid and I'm not sure the message is coming across," he said.[...]

last November [...] Biden called the idea of conditions a "worthwhile thought."

Since then, Biden approved two emergency transfers of military aid totaling some $254 million – bypassing Congress to rush tank munitions and related equipment to Israel.

3 Apr 24

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ravenna-reid · 15 days

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Admirer from the past...

TW: blood, mention of dead bodies and stalking/obsessive behaviour

An expert crime fighter. One of the youngest CEOs. A skilled detective. As good as the Bat. Maybe even better than him.

Tim often found himself conversing with police officers and other detectives that were actually qualified unlike him. Discussing the crime scene, the criminal, the victim, and the next course of action. They all respected Tim and were willing to work together.

One night Tim found himself standing amongst the chaos of the press, the solemn faces of detectives and officers and a name written in blood covering the footpath along with other gory things... The crimson letters painting the cement were a confronting display.

It was the works of a new villain, one that had only just started doing such things two weeks ago. He was one of the most psychotic men Tim had ever dealt with. And it seemed he had a nasty obsession with some poor girl, given he was constantly leaving dead bodies and flowers strewn across Gotham City dedicated to her.

Honestly, the situation twisted Tim's stomach, making him all the more adamant on finding this fucked up guy in hopes of sparing his target the fear and trauma.

Tim kept to himself as he tried to analyse the scene, picking up clues and taking his own samples. That was until the screech of tires on the road caught his attention. Turning to look over his shoulder, he saw another well known detective pull up beside the crime scene and hastily get out of his car. And with him a woman. Tim quickly let his eyes glance over you. You wore a fitted suit, golden hoops and your hair thrown up into a french twist. Throwing your trench coat over your shoulders, you hurriedly followed the detective with an unimpressed look on your face.

"If you haven't even caught the assailant yet, why am I here Harry?" You asked before you fell into step with your co-worker and friend. He was almost like an older brother to you.

"Because, I need your input. Your analysis. This guy is a fucking nut and we have no idea how to predict what he's gonna do next."

Intelligence and class seemed to drip off of you, and Tim was immediately smitten interested in you. He even found himself wondering if you were seeing the man you had arrived with.

Surely not, he was old enough to be your father.

You and Harry ducked under the police tape, your hands in your pockets and eyes trained on the gruesome scene. Black roses coated in thick blood decorated the ground around your boots. You instantly grimaced.

Harry made his way over to the group and greeted Tim first.

"Red Robin." He said with a nod.

"Detective." Tim said back, eyes still trained on you.

You turned in a circle to take it all in before nearing the group. "So, do we have anything on this guy?"

"Red Robin managed to hack into one of the shops security systems. The one across the street. With the footage he retrieved, we can see this sick bastard commit the crime, but his face is obscured."

You were watching Red Robin as the officer spoke, a little taken aback to see a vigilante standing in front of you. Let alone one of the bats.

"Can I see the footage?" You asked, eyes gazing back at his.

Tim swallowed hard. Your eye contact was unwavering, and he could feel a blush begin to creep onto his face.

"Miss, are you even a detective or-"

"Of course." Tim cut the officer off, handing you the tablet that sat atop a police car.

"It's fine," Harry said with the wave of his hand, "She's with me. She knows what she's doing."

Tim watched you analyse the footage. The man was wearing a cap, and some sort of odd make-up was smeared across his face. It might have even be blood you thought. You attentively watched the criminals behaviour. His mannerisms. The odd tick in his left shoulder. The limp in his right leg.

"Anything?" Tim asked.

His voice was like wine and you couldn't help but breathe in his cologne. You might come along to see these crime scenes more often.

"There's something." You admit with the furrow of your brows. "The way he moves. I can't put my finger on it though..."

Tim observed the badge clipped to the collar of your shirt. Although he could read what your occupation was, your coat was covering your name.

"Forensic psychologist?"

What a stupid moment to be making small talk. He began to chastise himself and his lack of charisma, but you didn't seem to mind, much to his relief.

"Mhm. Know what that is?" You teased, anticipating the Red Robin's response.

Tim smirked. "No actually, never heard of it."

You gave a light laugh and Tim felt he had to keep the conversation going.

"Are you new at this?" He asked. "I haven't seen you before."

"Not really," you replied with a soft smile. "It's my second year."

"Yeah, and she beats everyone in the game." Harry called out with a chuckle. You tried to hide your blush, but your humility mixed with your attempt to hide your reaction made Tim like you even more.

But the longer you watched the footage it suddenly dawned on you. The puzzles snapped together in your head and left you a little shocked. Tim immediately took note of the change in your demeanour.

"What is it?"

You held onto the tablet tightly. "I think I know who this is. The twitch. The limp. The hunched form and what he's doing..."

"Holy shit..." Harry said as the others all gawked at the writing on the ground.

Tim ignored them, focusing his full attention onto you.

"Back when I was just a psychologist. This guy came to me, I'm sure of it." You looked back up at Tim now, but before either of you could say anything, Harry called your name.

"You better get over here."

You and Red Robin joined the group, and as you looked down at the name on the footpath, your soul immediately dropped down to your feet.

"What's wrong?" Tim asked, looking up at Harry then at you. But now that you had moved, the name on your badge was revealed to Tim.

Everyone suddenly turned to look at you. And all you could do was stare down at the red letters before you.

"That's my name."

#tim drake imagine #tim drake fanfiction #tim drake robin #tim drake x reader #timothy drake #red robin x reader #red robin #dca fandom #dcu #dc comics #dc universe #angst #tim drake angst

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