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lovebugism · 5 months

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Smut request idea: Eddie worshipping reader's tits, who is insecure about their small size (lol totally not projecting 😅)

ty for requesting :D — eddie 'heart eyes' munson sees your boobs for the first time (cw for nudity, but no real smut, 18+ mdni, 1.1k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

On a rainy, post-show night, in the back of Eddie Munson’s van, you decide to be brave.

Buzzing with alcohol, adrenaline, and adoration — a wild concoction rushing like fire through your veins — you take your shirt off for the very first time in front of him. Mostly because your sweater was getting itchy, so you’re not entirely sure how brave that makes you. But your skin burns still, empty like a blank sky, yearning for a warmer touch to fall over you like stars.

In the simplest, most human way, you need Eddie to touch you like you need to breathe air.

So, when you tugged the fuzzy sweater up and over your head, you hadn’t thought much about doing it. You were too full of need, too unthinking. Head clouded with longing until you developed something short of tunnel vision for the boy underneath you.

It wasn’t that big a deal, right? Isn’t this what girlfriends do with boyfriends?

Eddie’s silence is not reassuring. It feels more like a knife lodged in the very center of your sternum.

You lay the sweater beside you and cross your arms slowly over yourself. Equal parts to hide what you’d just revealed to him and to shield your bleeding, stinging heart.

Eddie’s face twists, pained features swirling like a hurt puppy. “Wait— What are you doing?” he asks in an unabashed whine. His less-than-subtle pout deepens as his chocolate-button eyes flit up to yours.

You keep curling in on yourself, but from where you straddle his thighs, he’s impossible to run away from. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” you wonder in a tiny voice, distantly fearful of the answer.

You don’t have the kind of chest people put on magazines. Maybe you should’ve just kept the shirt on.

Eddie’s ringed fingers smooth around your bare waist. He realizes he’s holding you there for the very first time without any fabric covering you. His chest starts to sparkle. His thumbs rub gently at your ribcage, just below the arms still concealing yourself.

“‘Cause I’m too busy enjoying the view, honey,” he answers with a plush pink and crooked smile. His words are slightly slurred, weighed down by fatigue and desire. “How am I supposed to think when I’m looking at you, huh?”

You make a faint, grumbly noise, features scrunching in disdain at his compliment.

He smiles wider and curls his fingers around the wrists you hold over yourself. There is little force behind his touch, no eagerness to tug your hands away. Instead he just holds you, in a distinctly quiet embrace, telling you silently that you can let your guard down whenever you’re ready.

“So you don’t think they’re weird?”

He answers with an immediate scoff. “No, I don’t think they’re weird— I think they’re beautiful! I think every part of you is beautiful.”

You grow less and less tense in his hold. Your hands start to slip. You let them.

Bare again in front of him, the boyish glimmer in Eddie’s dark eyes returns.

The wild cadence of rain on the rusted tin roof resembles the rapid patter of his pounding heart as he ogles at you. And, with his back propped against the driver’s seat, he has the most perfect view of you.

The pale hands along your ribcage slowly start to rise. His warm touch leaves sparkling goosebumps in its wake. He doesn’t stop until his thumbs are settled neatly beneath your breasts.

“I mean— I always knew they’d be pretty, you know?” he mumbles, getting lost in you all over again. You don’t know if he’s talking to you, or if he even knows he’s rambling. “‘Cause when you’d let me feel you up, you know, over the shirt— I always imagined what you’d look like under it…”

He trails off then, forgets how to make words when his thumb rubs over your soft nipple. The gentle stimulation makes it stiffen beneath his touch. Eddie smiles to himself, all boyishly giddy.

“…But I couldn’t’ve, in my wildest imagination, expected this.”

Your chest warms with his affection. You scoff about it, anyway. “You’re such a boy,” you laugh.

“It’s not my fault you’re so pretty…”

Still cupping your chest, Eddie leans down to kiss you there. A chaste, open-mouthed peck to your pebbled nipple. His heart swells when he hears you moan above him — your nose buried in the strands of his wild hair, fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

Eddie licks his rosy lips when he pulls back from you.

“See? You’re gonna kill me one day, doll— I swear,” he teases in a joking tone, but means every bit of it. He loves you so much it makes his chest ache. You’ll give him a goddamn heart attack one day if he’s not careful. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding from me this whole time…”

You’re not sure either, now.

“I was just scared that… I don’t know,” you stammer, clammy hands fidgetting with his intentionally tattered Corroded Coffin t-shirt. You’d helped him cut rips into the white fabric before the show. You distract yourself with the pink lipstick smudge you’d pressed along the neck of it, rubbing hopelessly at a stain that’ll never come off.

“I was scared that you’d think I was less pretty or something. I don’t know.”

“No,” Eddie recoils immediately, face twisting in abhorrence of the thought. He shakes his wild head at you. “No way. That’s not possible. I think you’re fucking— perfect. And I think that…”

His eyes fall to your chest again. He loses the rest of his words.

A smile blossoms on your face. You don’t think you’ve ever felt prettier than you do right now.

“You think that what?” you tease, hands rising again to twist in his deep brown curls.

Eddie’s button eyes flit back up to you. His ringed hands lift to cup your breasts in his wide palms. They fit just perfect in his hands — like he was made to hold you there. The width of his beam rivals your own.

“That I just found Corroded Coffin’s next album cover,” he answers.

The sound of your laughter fills the van. Sunshine compared to the rolling rain outside.

“No. No way. That’s not happening,” you refuse, still smiling, as Eddie leans into you again.

You wrap your arms around his neck when he puts his mouth on you. He buries his own laughter against the plush of your breast — along with so many little kisses.

He doesn’t mind your light-hearted rejection. The only thing Eddie likes more than showing you off is keeping you totally to himself.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: bug turns one

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sexlapis · 6 months

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i know requests are closed and im sorry but i need this so i dont forget 💖 actor!toji looking at edits on live and hes like “so yall see me like this” and the fans go wild

actor!toji on live!

okay i’ll make an exception once.

𝜗𝜚 actor!toji (x implied gn!reader)

sfw, crack, tiktok (bc that’s it’s own warning), suggestive, horny toji fans, toji has reading glasses, petnames (‘kid’) he’s a little rude but when is he not :), old man toji <3

〆(・∀・) : me after not writing abt actor toji for like a month 😊🤗

masterlists

actor toji masterlist

“hey, everybody,” toji said, waving to camera as if he didn’t fumble and struggle in front of his fans for the past ten minutes trying to get his phone to stand up securely. he looks cute, dressed in a navy blue hoodie with nothing underneath and his dark hair was a messy mop atop his head.

now he just sits in his chair at his dining room table, watching the viewer count rise and rise to absolutely ridiculous numbers.

“fourty thousan-fifty thou-sixty thousand?! didn’t know i had so many fans..jesus christ…”

honestly, toji had no idea what he was doing and he was a tiny bit nervous. this was his first ever “live” (something that he did not know even existed until you told him) and he had no idea how to entertain his fans or what they really wanted. but they seem pleased with him just staring at the camera in confusion and admiring his handsome face.

toji proceeds to read some of the comments in the rapid moving chat of chaos. here, starts the beginning of his own demise.

many comments are sweet, kind, praising him for his talent and acting skills, some were just spamming their country flags and names, a rare male fan is asking to see his guns collection, others asking about his upcoming projects but the majority of them are…not exactly PG in the slightest.

toji’s eyes could bulge out of damn skull at some of the explicitly and complete shamelessness of his fans. he knew they found him attractive, but this was a whole other level of depravity.

“what the fuck…” toji whispers in awe, mouth agape as his eyes scan through the chat, his eyes being fed with the most desperate and thirsty comments he has even read, “you guys are sumthin’ else…”

his one sentence just pours fuel on the, already blazing and large, fire, the chat moving so fast that is starts to lag.

“why’d i even speak..”

he actually takes time to read each comment that he can see (and stomach) and one of them catches his eye.

“watch your edits on tiktok? i have edits? what’s an edit?”

the chat blows up even more, commenters begging and begging him to watch these…edits.

“alright, alright, i’ll watch these “edits”,” toji says to the camera, before pulling out another phone, one that is clearly quite old, jagged edges and a cracked camera, a raggedy phone case and just overall not in the best condition it could be in.

“‘what is that ancient ass device’ eh? this is my main phone,” he replies to a comment, showing his phone to the camera to his fans can see, “‘s fine, works perfectly. and it’s not “ancient”. it’s actually a nokia. pft, dumbass kids.”

toji can feel himself being flamed in the chat. even more so when he pulls out his reading glasses.

“yeah, ‘m fuckin’ old. jesus.”

he squints, scrolling on his beaten up phone with his index finger, “y’know, ion even really use tiktok, i only got it so _____ can send me videos of whatever the fuck. i swear, that kid sends me a million videos per day..” toji sighs, smiling at the thought of you, “ahh, they’re just so dumb.”

toji, after a long time of searching through trial and error and directions from his fans, eventually finds the search page of tiktok.

“alright, what’d i type in then? just ‘toji’? ‘toji fushiguro’?” he looks for answers in the chat, but find himself getting frustrated at the lack of actual responses to his question. he tuts, “i’m just gonna search ‘toji fushiguro edits’ and see what happens.”

he does just that and the results are…very interesting.

right in front of his very eyes are miles and miles of edits of himself, created by his fans, their depravity exposed for him to see, some of who were probably watching him at this very moment.

“jeeeeesus christ. ‘dunno what i even expected, honestly,” he scrolls through them, audios changing constantly as he does so, his eyes wide and wondering, “i’m actually impressed…”

toji pressed on one, and he watches it, the edit flashing in the reflection of his glasses as he watches. his open mouth slowly turns into a smirk of amusement and all out disbelief, the audio of the video being something about… ‘needing someone older’?

“so you guys see me like this?” he asked, expression incredulous and he breathes out a small chuckle, “buncha little fuckin’ freaks.”

the chat seems to like that. a lot.

his chat is once again flooded with comments from hell…hell for people driven purely by lust, that is.

toji huffs, “how old is this person anyway?”

he seemingly clicks on the account and reads their username. well, almost.

“‘tojis little cu-woah!” he almost drops his phone out of his hand, jaw on the floor, “how old are you! sixteen?! toji looks to the camera, eyebrows furrowed before slamming his phone on the table and pointing at his fans through the screen, “go do your homework! and be in bed by nine. actually, no scratch that, eight! christ…sixteen years old, oh my god…”

he continues to mutter to himself, completely baffled at how some of his fans are so young and just so…out of their minds. his skin crawls at the thought of a sixteen year old liking him in such a way.

toji shivers, “god, where are your parents?” he questions and continues to search through the edits, before finding one that looks safe, innocent and PG.

he was proven wrong however, when the audio was a woman rapping about being put in full nelsons-

“okay, that’s enough!” he slams his phone down again on the table, “i’ve seen enough,” and then he reaches for the camera, not even caring about his viewers. he mutters a, “crazy fuckin’ kids” before abruptly ending his “live” and going to take a nap.

the next day, you have sent him over ten videos on tiktok, all of them being edits of him from the day of the live, most of them containing the clip of when he called his fans, quote, a “buncha little fuckin’ freaks” unquote.

toji sighs at them, secretly entertained that you must be watching these deviant edits of him too.

〆(・∀・) : no i have not forgotten abt actor toji

#actor!toji #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji x self insert #toji fluff #toji crack #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x self insert #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro fluff #toji zenin x reader #toji zenin x you #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji x you

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kittenintheden · 15 days

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I've had a fair few people ask me how I write dialogue, and other than touting the sort-of-dismissive-feeling "I've had a lot of practice and have been doing this a long time" comment I usually make, here are a few quick tips for improving dialogue writing.

1) Listen to people talk. Like. This sounds very "no fuckin duh." But I don't mean casually overhearing conversations. I mean if you have a character with a specific background, then get some headphones and find video/audio of someone you envision them speaking like, close your eyes, and simply listen. Full immersion. Let the cadence of their voice and the vocabulary they use wash over you. Absorb it.

2) Read some screenplays and start listening to dialogue like a writer. Screenplays are a good source because film/television often relies heavily on dialogue to communicate character. The lines are intentional, they're economic, they convey ideas in a way that most of us wouldn't be able to come up with off the cuff. Consider the different ways lines can be delivered and how that can change their entire meaning.

3) Everyone has vocal tics. We all have certain ways of speaking. It's where regional accents and slang come from and it's how we express a specific image of ourselves. People SPEAK differently. Uptalk, vocal fry, pauses for emphasis, laughing to lighten the heaviness of the words, certain turns of phrase, mumbling, showmanship, whatever. Train your ear to clock those things and figure out how to use them to bring out character personality.

4) Check out some improv. If you have an improv group in your area, check them out! There's also tons of improv content online. If you're ever like "how did someone come up with that absolute fucking BANGER of a line just off the top of their head???" The answer is 1) they probably didn't just think of it, and 2) they've practiced rapid-fire back and forth, often with a comedic bent.

5) Read out loud. If you're ever like "what would a real person sound like saying this," you have the answer. Say it yourself, in the way you envision them saying it, and see where it sounds clunky and can be smoothed out. Is there a way for you to convey emphasis where it's needed?

6) Dialogue tags do in fact matter. Every once in a while you'll see the advice that you should NEVER use dialogue tags besides "says/said" because "the dialogue should speak for itself." It's mostly bullshit. Don't use them for the sake of adding a different tag to every line of dialogue, but the WAY people say things can change the meaning of the words. So use them intentionally.

7) PRACTICE. Look. I fuckin know lol. But this advice always stands. Any creative expression requires practice to improve. It's incredibly rare to have a "natural" talent for anything. So just keep on keeping on. You're doing great. And you will continue to improve.

#writing advice #writing is hard #writing life #kitten writes

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disasterofastory · 7 months

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Sandalwood and evergreens (Thranduil x Reader)

Sandalwood and evergreens Thranduil x Reader Warnings: porn without plot

Summary: You visit your King in his room.

A/N: I think this works as a one-shot but can be read as a part 2 for Leather and dust too.

Your fingers tingle as you curl them into a fist to knock on the thick, wooden door in front of you. The repeating sound echoes off the walls, and for a moment, you almost turn around to run as far as you can. Back to your room. Or back to the library. You have to force yourself to stay and wait because a big, aching part of you wants to stay and wait, even though the rapid beating of your heart and the rushing of your blood says otherwise.

You don't have to wait long for the door to open in front of you with the elven king behind it.

He still wears the same clothes he wore a few hours before but without his crown and robe. His tunic is tucked inside his pants that stretch on his thick thighs. Heat creeps up on your face when you find yourself looking all over him. When your eyes jump up to his face, a smirk is already playing on his lips. "My king," you break the silence first. "Come in," he replies, stepping away from the entrance just enough to let you in, but you still have to brush against him. "Thank you," you tell him, letting yourself look around his space.

Thranduil's room is messy. Books and parchments gather in piles on the nightstand next to his bed and on his desk. His bed is large, occupying most of the space in his room. Soft blankets and pillows cover it. There are two more doors, but they are closed.

"Did you think about me?" His question comes suddenly and much closer than he was a few moments ago. Grabbing your hips, he makes you face him. His hands stay on you. "Yes," you nod, avoiding his eyes. Your last encounter with the king is still vivid in your mind. "Good," he smiles, cupping your jaw to make you look at him. Confidence and smugness glint in his blue eyes. "I thought about you too." "Oh?" You breathe out. You are frozen. Completely at his mercy, and he knows that. "I smelled you on my finger all day," he groans, leaning closer. "Imagining how may you taste on my tongue." His words alone are enough to make you burn and ask similar questions. How would he feel between your legs? Would he be rough or gentle? "Can I kiss you?" He asks, shocking you once again. Your eyes widen as you meet his gaze. You were sure he would throw you on his bed to make you his. "Yes," you croak out your answer. "Please."

He is dominant and commanding. He barely gives you enough time to get used to his lips on yours. He is already pushing his tongue inside your mouth. His whole presence hovers above you, demanding your submission and need. His large hands squeeze your hips, tugging you closer until your body is pressed against his. You can feel his erection digging into your front. "Take off your clothes," Thranduil says against your lips, and without waiting for your reaction, he already reaches behind you to untie your dress. Meanwhile, his lips never leave yours. There is a tug on your arms, and before you know it, your dress pools around your legs, leaving you bare in front of the king's eyes. His heavy gaze rakes over your body, pausing here and there to appreciate every dip and curve you have. "I imagined them in a different shade," he says, flicking his thumb over your nipple with a click of his tongue. You are trembling with anticipation. He gropes your chest, playing with the weight of your tits and playing with the hard peaks. Thranduil circles and pinches them until you moan and let your head fall backward. One of his hands slips to the back of your head, pulling you into another feverish kiss. It's much more impatient now. All teeth and tongue. The thrusts of his tongue light the fire between your legs, making your thighs clench for some friction.

"Lay down on the bed," he instructs you. "Good," he hums, watching you do as he says while he takes off his tunic. The dim candlelights illuminate the curve of his muscles. The yellow hue glides over his wide chest. His flawless, pale skin seems even more beautiful. The bedsheets are soft under you and smell like him. Something spicy you don't recognize, elven wine, sandalwood, and evergreens. The mix covers your senses, pushing you more deeply in desperation for the man standing at the end of the bed. "Open your legs." Comes another order. Your thighs shake as you brace your heels against the bed as open your legs. The air seems freezing in contrast with the heat of your pussy. A muffled hiss escapes your closed lips in sync with the low groan coming from Thranduil. His gaze is dark and hungry as he unbuckles his trousers. You even forget how to breathe as you watch him taking out of his cock. He is thick and already hard. "Don't!" He says when you move, to close your legs for some friction. The ache in your pussy is almost too much to bear. "I want to see you. I imagined you so many times like this. Laying in my bed, wet for my cock." His hand moves up and down on his erection the whole time he talks. You watch him mesmerized. The tip of his cock glints with his pre-cum. "I can't wait to taste you." "Please, my King," you cry out. Your hands tear on the covers under you. "Do it! Please!" It seems like your quiet plea is enough for Thranduil because not even a second later, he climbs up to the bed between your legs. His large hands slide up on your legs, groping and massaging your flesh all the way to your thighs. "So soft," he hums, pressing a kiss to the side of your knee. His gaze wanders on your naked body the whole time. Your eyes shine with desire, and your lips are open and swollen. You are even more beautiful than he imagined. "And smells so good," he groans, adjusting himself close to your pussy. His warm breath fans over your center, making you clench around nothing. Your juices already made a mess between your legs, and Thranduil's closeness doesn't help at all. His tongue swipes up on your slit with a swift motion. Your hips buckle at the sudden feeling, and Thranduil has to grab you to keep you in place. He feasts on your pussy with such force it drives you close to madness. He buries his face into your heat, devouring you with every swirl and flick of his tongue. His long fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, and his hair falls on your skin like a veil. A deep groan escapes his lips when you reach out to him. The blonde strands are soft between your fingers. The sound vibrates inside you, making you arch your back until it hurts. "Thranduil," you cry his name. "I need more." "Not yet," he grunts. His lips close around your clit to suck on the sensitive bud. For a moment, you can't even see. Tears run down your cheeks, and your quiet sobs mix with the slurping sound coming from the blonde elf.

"I can't believe you are here," he says. "You are so beautiful, Y/N, so responsive." With every flick of his thumb on your clit, you shake and jerk. The hot coil in your stomach burns and drags you deeper and deeper. "Th-" "I'm here," he smiles. Seeing your state, his cock twitches with more pre-cum seeping down his shaft. He kneels between your legs, pushing his finger inside you carefully. His usual impatience is nowhere now. He takes his time to get you ready for his cock. "You are so tight," he grunts, adding another finger. "I don't even know how you will take me, but we will find it out." His fingers massage the inside of your walls, finding every sweet spot to push you higher and closer to the edge. "I will make sure this pretty pussy will take all of me," he continues talking. "But first," he hums, still thrusting inside you as he leans down to take your nipple into his mouth. "Cum, Y/N, cum for me. Let me hear you. Let me see you." And with a twist of his fingers, you obey his command once again. You shake, cry, and moan. Your eyelids fall shut, your muscles go taut, and your walls milk his fingers for more. You grab onto anything to keep you afloat. It feels like your life depends on his hands holding you to reality. His deep voice is the only lead that can pull you out of the blackness that makes you blind for long seconds. Your whole body tingles with pleasure, but your hunger isn't satisfied. You want more. You need more.

"How-" you start to speak, but your throat is so dry, you begin to cough. "Here," he says, reaching out to his nightstand for a glass. "Drink this. It's wine." He even helps you sit up to take a few sips of the sweet liquid. "Thank you," you tell him, giving him back the glass and watching him drink too. And while he does that, you have a few calm seconds to let your eyes wander on his body. His hair is a bit messy because of you. His cheeks are tinted with pink, and the color goes down to his chest, too. The muscles flex and stretch in sync with his movements. His cock is hard with a flush, pink tip between his thick thighs. You don't even know when did he take off his trousers.

You are too busy staring at his balls to notice him putting the glass back in its original place. He has to cup your face with one of his hands to make you look up into his eyes.

Well, not your proudest moment, but you have no regrets. You are not willing to feel ashamed because of it, and you don't even have time for it. The view of the elven king looking down on you with his almost white hair framing his handsome face is too much to feel anything but hunger and desire.

"How do you want me?" You ask him instead. A moment of surprise washes over his face before a smug smirk pulls on his red, swollen lips. "On your knees," he replies. "Ass up, head on the pillow."

#thranduil x reader #thranduil imagine #thranduil smut #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit smut

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alilarew23 · 10 months

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the first manifestation is [in] the body

i want you to genuinely ask yourself if the reason you’re struggling to shift states is really due to a lack of faith/belief in your power as god of your reality or if it’s because you’re biologically addicted to the stress hormones associated with “trying” to manifest your desires.

i think most people, like myself, discover the law of assumption at a time when their inner/outer worlds have crumbled.

they’ve lost something or someone dear to their hearts. they’ve been fired. the business deal they thought for sure they had in the bag fell through.

but here, someone on tiktok says, i have a solution. decide what you want. affirm and persist until it shows up.

now, to be clear, i am by no means against affirmations if they work for you, if you’re truly repeating phrases as a means of reminding yourself you already have/are that which you desire to be, or if said repetition helps you shift states.

if something works for you, great.

keep repeating.

but i think there’s a general misunderstanding surrounding the term “persist” that can (and often does) have seriously detrimental implications for people first learning about/applying the law, especially those who haven’t read or listened to material from neville or edward art (yes, there are other wonderful teachers, but for me, the neville-edward duo is where to start).

persist, put simply, means to know, to continually accept your assumption as true despite lack of immediate evidence in your physical world.

acceptance does not imply—and does not demand—any work on the part of the assumer.

acceptance is by nature gentle.

it is a pleasant, “yes, i already am. yes, everything already is. yes, my prayer has been answered. thank you.”

but there’s this energy a lot of supposed-teachers have attached to the term that makes those applying the law think they need to work.

PERSIST PERSIST PERSIST UNTIL IT SHOWS UP.

meaning, if you are not working, if you are not affirming and visualizing and scripting and SATS-ing every second until who knows the exact moment your desire materializes, it will not materialize.

which then gets people in the state of working, of trying, which by nature has force/anxiety attached to it.

which implies not being/having.

how can you work to get something you already have?

how can you try to become something you already are?

when people start to realize this, usually because they either get exhausted and depressed from all work and no results, or they manifest their first neville book that begins re-orient their relationship to the law, they might have the realization that, oh! this can be…mind-bogglingly easy.

like, i legit just decide i have/am something and go about my life and it appears in my physical world?

what a relief!

but then…immediate anxiety sets in.

NOT, at least i don’t think—and of course this isn’t always the case, there are exceptions—because they don’t believe in the law or intuitively know/feel their power to select and step into the reality of their dreams, the one inherently granted to them by their god-selves, but instead because they have trained their bodies to not trust—to not feel safe within—their power.

to not allow for the naturalness of having/being what they desire to effortlessly take over.

which is the key to successful manifestation.

it’s like, oh, ok, it’s done!

but five minutes later, the body says, where is all that anxious energy i’ve been hit with non-stop for the past seven months?

now, if they could sit with this discomfort, they might realize that, actually, that *lack* of anxious energy is a signal to the inner man/subconscious mind/whatever you want to call it that—hell yeah! we have this thing now!—hence the immediate build-traverse of the bridge of events, and a rapid materialization of said desire in the physical world because they are living in the end (present, not desiring)—and that realization might make it easier to stay in the being/having state.

but instead, there’s the bodily pull-back to the trying state.

which leads only to more exhaustion and frustration and depression and the cycle begins itself again.

but there’s such an easy fix.

i did it.

you can do it, too.

here it is.

STAY.

in that feeling of relief. of ease. of almost-disbelief.

at all costs.

it sounds so silly to say your life depends on you sitting in this sort of discomfort, because—what?

how could simply being/knowing/gently accepting be this uncomfortable?

it shouldn’t be, and i’m genuinely sorry for all of us who have had to do the work of un-learning the persist-work stuff, but also, maybe it isn’t work.

maybe this, too, can be easy.

gentle acceptance.

we already are. everything already is.

it is a blessing to exist in and accept this naturalness.

#law of assumption #loa tumblr #loa #loassumption #neville goddard #edward art #self concept #manifestation #mindset #states of consciousness #affirm and persist #desire

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kimbap-r0ll · 1 year

Note

Can I please request Trey, Jack, Kalim and Leona reacting to their little sibling (Cheka in Leona's case) asking the reader if they can marry them?

Hi, thank you for the ask! I'm guessing you mean the boys' younger siblings asking the reader to marry their bf? If not let me know, I took this approach for the ask :)

You get asked by Trey, Jack, Kalim's siblings and Cheka about marriage to their older brothers

Trey

He's lowkey embarrassed but he's laughing when he hears this

Trey had invited you over during the holidays and you two were helping out in the bakery. Trey's younger brothers came in and saw how you were busy by yourself. Deciding this was the chance to ask you a bunch of questions, they went and just rapid-fire asking when you were planning on marrying Trey

"Guys, guys, they're trying to do the icing on the cake leave them be," Trey pats his siblings on the back and tries to move them away from you. But the kids just keep going "Are you going to wear a suit? A dress? What about the cake flavor!"

Overall Trey thinks it's kind of funny, if anything if you answer these questions expect to see Trey blushing a little bit. Also expect him to daydream about a wedding more after this little incident haha

Jack

You were probably playing with Jack and his siblings when you were visiting them. You were already worn out by how much running everyone did but they all seemed to have superhuman stamina so you gave up and sat in the snow

Soon enough everyone else joined you, watching the clouds pass slowly in the sky. But then his younger sister started to ask you questions about your relationship with Jack. They knew you two were dating but they wanted to hear all of your date stories!

Jack tried to stop them from asking too many in case you didn't want to answer but they lowkey ignored his plea. They started to ask you "When are you going to marry Jack?" "He's been thinking about the kind of cake you two might have!" "Are you going to live close by?"

"T-that's enough you two," Jack's red in the face while you're laughing at the cute questions along with Jack's reaction. If you do answer any of these questions expect Jack to just look away shyly while the siblings giggle. You two are so wholesome omg

Kalim

He has a lot of siblings, but during one fancy event you got to meet a lot of them. While they might not all be close to Kalim, most of them knew about his relationship with you.

However what you didn't expect from this event was the amount of times you would be asked by Kalim's siblings (and aunts) on marriage. Will you get married next week? What kind of venue did you want to have? Things like that. His younger siblings were especially keen on asking 80% of these questions while the adults tried to stop them haha

Kalim overheard you answering one of the questions about how you wanted to wear something nice, whether it is a dress, a suit, or something else entirely. "Aww, I think you'll look great," Kalim smiles at you. He finds you really cute when you blush at his compliment

He's the only one that doesn't get embarrassed, though he does feel a little fluttery in his stomach with the idea of actually marrying you, it fee's like a dream. Kalim's also really glad that his siblings seem to already treat you like a part of the family

Leona

He was dreading this to ever happen, hence never mentioning letting you stay with him during the holidays. However, Farena's wife wanted to meet you and Leona had to agree

During your time at his home, you got to know his brother better along with the others in the royal family. Cheka frequently followed you around, mainly because he was curious as to who you were and also because he liked your vibes

Cheka asks a lot of questions, but at some point he started to ask if you were going to marry Leona and when. Right when Leona himself was with you. Leona, though usually chill, for the first time nearly spit out his drink and just turned slightly red in the face.

If you answer (with a little laugh of course), Cheka will just continue asking more questions about marriage. Leona, crossing his arms and refusing to look at you in the eye, will listen closely. He may not show it, but thinking about marrying you makes his heart beat faster and just makes him feel all warm inside, which in turn translates to him just being more emotionally constipated haha

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #anon ask #twst scenarios #twst headcanons #twst x reader #twst trey #twst trey x reader #twst jack #twst jack x reader #twst kalim #twst kalim x reader #twst leona #twst leona x reader

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seresinhangmanjake · 1 year

Text

It's What You Make It

Dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female reader

Summary: Jake hasn't been on the best of terms with his parents since they found out about you and his baby, and now his mother decides she wants to meet her granddaughter.

Warnings: cursing maybe? Protective Jake

Notes: Suggested by an anon / Part of the Oh, Baby Universe.

Words: 4200

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“Jake, dear, your mother would like to meet her granddaughter.”

It was cruel, really, to have such devastating words leave the lips of one of those he loved the most, but maybe that was why she of all people was tasked with it. He wasn't likely to listen to another on the matter. Hell, had anyone else but she called, he wouldn't have answered, and he struggled not to see it as a bit of a betrayal. A trick.

"Gram," he sighed into the phone, running a hand through his hair, "I'm not doing this with them. After everything we just faced with her mother, why should we put ourselves through dealing with mine?"

"You know she had nothing to do with that email."

"Yea and nothing to do with discouraging it, either."

The other end of the line went silent. Jake looked to his left where his daughter was being bounced on her mother's lap just out of earshot. You smiled at the girl, but the stone now sitting on Jake's heart kept it from swelling as it normally would at the sight of your brightened face.

His perfect little family. Safe and sound in California. Far from Texas. Far from the people you'd yet to learn criticized you for your past choices.

When you first asked about them, Jake couldn't hide the fact that his parents were displeased with the coming of his daughter. He'd blamed it on their lack of open-mindedness to the girl being brought into his life under ‘unique’ circumstances, and while that was in fact a part of it, the bulk of their problems they placed solely in you and not trusting why you bothered to return when you left him to begin with. They buried you under a mountain of their judgment and you were completely unaware. But that was how he wanted to keep it. He wanted you in the dark. Oddly enough, the darkness was where you were safest. And that plan had been working so well, too. You had a healthy understanding of the difficulty of parents, and after the way your mother treated him the month prior you hadn't pressured him for more information on his.

I only care about the three of us, Jake. As long as we're together, nothing else matters—that's what you'd said. You sealed that promise with a kiss that led to hours in bed full of sex and naps and cuddles and what felt like hundreds of exchanges of 'I love yous'.

The issue with his parents wasn't brought up again.

And now his grandmother was ruining it.

"What do you expect of me, Gram?" he asked; the first of his rapid-fire questions. "To bring them there? To subject them to that? You really want me to hurt my girlfriend? My daughter? What even makes you think Mom cares to see Eve? There's no way she admitted—"

"Breathe, dear," she soothed. And Jake did as told, but it didn't make him feel the slightest bit better. "I saw it in her eyes."

He sighed, chest noticeably deflating. "Oh, come on. I love you, Gram, but seriously?"

"Jacob Seresin, you hush," she scolded, her voice raised and tinny through the speaker. "You asked me a question, so listen up."

Jake grumbled, defeated. The senior Eve had that power over him. She was the mother his mother should have been. She taught him plenty and raised him well. He knew how to respect his woman because of his Gram. He treated you the way you deserved because she made sure to instill in him the value of women where his own parents had failed to do.

So he listened.

"When I returned from my visit a couple of weeks ago, your mother snuck in the casual question or two whenever your father wasn't around," she explained. "And I told her. Anything she cared to know. That Eve is beautiful and her mother is a stunner." Jake's lips curved upward despite the anxiety building in his chest. "That your girls are perfect. That you are happier than I've ever seen you."

"...And?"

"And she nodded and got a little grin on her face."

Jake waited for more, but it didn't come. His hand rose and fell, smacking against the side of his thigh. "That's your only argument to encourage surrendering the happiness of my family to a couple of snakes?"

"Snakes?" He could practically see the roll of her eyes. "Really, dear?"

"I read you the email."

The email he'd received a few weeks after he got you back and learned of his daughter's existence. The one that spat aggressive levels of disappointment in him, and called you an abundance of names that nearly had him crushing his phone in his palm. The one that expressed very clearly his parents' refusal to acknowledge the woman he loved and his baby as their family.

"No," Jake said as he shook his head. "No, I'm not doing it."

"I'm not saying you have to, dear. I'm just telling you that there is someone else who might want to be a part of your daughter's life. That's more family for Eve to be surrounded by. Another person to love her."

—-

He’d promised her he’d think about it. And while he really wished he could forget her words, they were persistent, nagging, and unwilling to get out of his way; like a damn fly buzzing around his face during all hours of his days and nights.

His grandmother was wise and she was clever to tap into one of his life’s motivations: to provide his daughter with as much love as possible. Though Eve did have love—from him, from you, his team, his grandmother—the potential for so much more was taken away from her.

She didn’t see your family. They lived across the country and after the way your mother behaved, you’d pretty much cut her off for the time being. His sister’s husband was in the Air Force, stationed at Aviano in Italy with no set date of return. And his parents had made their opinions clear, so he felt it best to never let you or Eve around them. But doing what he believed was best didn’t stop the guilt of denying Eve her family, of not giving her enough. He thought about Christmas coming up and how she wouldn’t have her grandparents. He thought about the major events in her life to come; the birthdays and school plays, the graduations, and the, hopefully only, wedding.

Wait, he stopped himself, scratch the wedding. No wedding. How could his daughter possibly have a wedding if she would never be dating to begin with?

But there was still enough remaining to worry him.

Jake didn’t want a day to come when Eve looked around the room and wondered why she didn’t have the people in her life that her friends at school did. She deserved everything he could possibly give her, and his grandmother calling to inform him he wasn’t providing that was a stab to the heart.

“You’re lost.”

The voice—your voice—was one of two powerful enough to crack the thick shell surrounding his thoughts.

Your fingers wove through his hair as he focused his vision on your face, letting the fog clear to make out the perfection he saw in each feature. You wiggled on the mattress, inching your body closer to his and he lifted his arm to drape over your waist.

“What’s going on?” you asked. “You’ve been zoning out for three days.”

He wouldn’t lie to you—never could. And even if he tried, it would be a waste of breath with the way you managed to sniff out untruths like a damn bloodhound. The information he didn’t tell you he always preferred to label as ‘omissions.’ Those could just barely slip by your clever brain. And he’d only ever done it twice; when he’d neglected to spill his hidden love, and when he hadn’t provided you with all the details of his father’s email. Both seemed like good ideas at the time. Necessary. But now…

“According to Gram,” Jake sighed, “my mother wants to meet Eve.”

You tried to control your face, but the ceasing of your nails grazing across his scalp was enough to tell him you were plenty shocked. Likely plenty terrified, too, with the trauma of the last parental interaction.

“Oh.” You blinked once, twice, three times, as your lips parted and sealed and parted again. “So, that means…what? They're fine with everything now?"

"I doubt it, but…" Jake bit the inside of his cheek. Shook his head. “Honey, I’m really not sure.”

“You trust them?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

He didn’t know, not even after three days of thought. He cared about protecting his family, but whether or not introducing his mother to you and his daughter would be a choice he'd come to regret was hard to say. “What do you think we should do?”

“Baby, your family, your decision.”

With a groan, Jake pulled you closer and turned onto his back, settling your body on top of his.

“But you’re so much smarter than me,” he said, wrapping his arms snuggly around your waist and tilting his chin up for a kiss.

You let him kiss you, despite the weight of the conversation surely causing you as much unease as it was him. You let him kiss you for as long as he wanted. Like you knew just how badly he needed it in that moment. How badly he needed you.

“You’re no idiot, Jake Seresin," you said when he decided it was fair to let you breathe. "I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

He hummed, pushing some of your hair back behind your shoulder. “Why do you have to be so damn supportive and reasonable?”

You smiled so sweetly. Leaned in closer.

“Because I trust you," you whispered, letting your lips slowly travel around his face, pressing gentle kisses where you could. "And I believe in you."

You pulled back, locking your eyes with his, and as you stroked his cheek, you said, “Because you’re my teammate, Jake.”

He let your words soak in—filling him, sating him—before taking a deep inhale through his nose. On the heavy exhale he released a breathy “Fuck.”

You chuckled. “What?”

“It’s just extremely hot when you say shit like that and I am trying to make a decision that really isn’t helped by my dick getting hard.”

He swelled larger in his underwear as he spoke and he could see the very second that mischievous glint took root in your eye.

“Aw," you pouted, slightly grinding your hips into his, making his breath hitch, "Does my man get turned on by commitment?"

His fingers dug into your waist to hold you still, and with a scowl, he said, "You already knew that so quit teasing me."

“Who's teasing?" You asked as you gave him a peck. "You've been distracted for three days, and I miss you. So let me take your mind off it. Then we can get some sleep and talk it over in the morning."

He loved you for that. That you knew him enough to refrain from pushing him in any direction. You knew enough to know when he needed a distraction from the things that most bothered him.

"Deal," he whispered. Then his fingers tangled in your hair and he pulled your face closer to his.

—-

It wasn't talked about in the morning. Not that one nor the weeks worth that followed. The distraction Jake had been so thankful for continued to find itself in the forms of wake-up sex, and invigorating work days, and evenings filled with dedicated family time—things he actually cared about. Thinking about what to do with his mother had been bothersome enough that at the first chance to brush it aside, it slipped from his mind without effort. And he didn’t care, just as he didn’t care how his life had completely split after his father sent that email.

It was a clean severing, like a hot blade through butter, and the two new parts were far from equal. You and his daughter occupied one chunk of his divided world—the larger of the two—and the other chunk was where his parents remained, dwarfed under the shadow of its massive counterpart. It was too easy to let go of that extra bit that was hanging off the end of what was an otherwise perfect life, so he did.

He didn’t follow up with his grandmother—

A mistake he discovered when his mother walked through the front door of the Hard Deck and disrupted the peace surrounding his little family.

His trio had decided to have lunch with Rooster at the bar well before opening hours, and it was the lack of overlapping voices, clinking glasses, and occasional drunken shouting which allowed for the clicking of heels across hardwood flooring to echo clearly throughout the room.

Three voices went eerily silent, the only continuous sound being that of Eve shaking her rattle toy, lost in the sweet ignorance of childhood and completely oblivious to the thickness that had just swelled throughout the bar.

Jake glared at his grandmother who was just off to the side of her daughter-in-law. She stared back, a look of complete innocence on her face until she grew bored with silent standoff and, with a roll of her eyes, made a beeline for you and Eve. She smiled wide, immediately popping the bubble that was holding everyone hostage, to give you a little hug around the shoulders before kissing the top of Eve’s head.

“Oh, I missed you,” she said as huddled beside the small girl.

Jake stood from the rounded table and crossed his arms over his chest, the movement broadening his shoulders and thickening his muscles, like an animal determined to protect his mate and cub from any predator bold enough to test him. And as far as he was concerned, that was exactly what he was looking at. The woman standing still as a statue twenty feet from him was not someone he recognized anymore. He couldn’t guarantee that her next move would not be in the form of a threat, so he didn’t risk it.

His mother raised her hand in a wave weakened by uncertainty. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Her voice was meeker than he expected, and she stood less confidently than he’d ever known in his thirty-four years. Her styled hair and perfectly painted nails and carefully applied makeup suddenly seemed unnatural on the woman before him, like an ill-fitting costume hanging off her body with an uneasy facial expression to match.

“Gram,” Jake began, a deep grit to his tone. He didn’t tear his eyes away from his mother. “What did you do?”

Without glancing her way, Jake knew his grandmother had taken his seat at the table, holding his daughter and likely making silly faces at her as she inserted herself in what was his pleasant weekend.

“You two need to talk,” she said. There was a smile in her voice. A giggle from Eve. “You weren’t going to make the first move, and she was coming either way, so I figured it would be best if I tagged along.”

The crease in Jake’s brow deepened. That was not enough for him. “No warning?”

“Nope. You wouldn’t have agreed.”

He shook his head. His mother still hadn’t moved.

"Is he here?" Jake finally asked her.

His mother startled at his directness, but she recovered after a moment’s passing and took a step closer that Jake immediately made up by taking a step back. She paused. "Jake—"

"Is he here?" he snapped.

The new silence in the aftermath of his sharp tone was loud, terribly loud, and long-lasting. Painfully so.

"Uh, family?" Rooster suddenly said from behind him. "Why don't we take a little walk on the beach."

Chairs scraped across the floor and Jake couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so thankful for his friend. Rooster was the only other person to know the full truth of what was said about Jake’s girlfriend and daughter, and he undoubtedly felt the storm brewing. A storm he knew Jake wouldn’t want his family to witness.

No one argued, and as the others made their way outside, you appeared in front of him, breaking the tension of his steady stare. He looked at you, making sure to soften the hard edge in his eyes to soothe the worry in yours, but it didn’t work. His smile was tight-lipped and brief.

"Go with them, Honey," he whispered with a nod toward the door. He took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles before running his thumb over the top of them. "It's ok."

He tried that smile again, but the expression on your face made it known he was no more convincing than before.

With your free hand you cupped his cheek, then you stood up on your toes to press your lips to his—a little token of strength. When you stepped away from him, you snuck a quick look at his mother before you were on your way, following everyone else out the back door onto the beach.

Only once you were out of his sight did Jake allow his eyes to land back on his mother.

She swallowed hard, her shaky hands clasped in front of her. "She's lovely," she said.

"She is," he replied, crossing his arms once again, stony glare back in place. "Where's Dad?"

Her nerves radiated through the room. He could practically see them—thin wiggly lines emanating from her form.

"He's on a business trip. He doesn't even know I came. I just wanted to meet them. I'm only here for a couple of days and—"

"What happens when he finds out?” Jake interjected. “He'll lose his mind. He’ll show up here, and he won't walk away without making his point clear when it comes to my girlfriend and baby."

He could feel his voice raising as he continued to speak, but he couldn’t restrain himself. The pure rage he’d been trying to tamp down for months was yanked to the surface now that he was looking directly into the eyes of someone who had no issue insulting you, and therefore, hurting him.

She said his name again, but the overwhelming combination of her gentle tone and the pain swirling in her irises had tears beginning to coat his own, a stinging at his nose.

It pissed him off.

"He isn't coming anywhere near them,” Jake practically growled, that internal animal determined to protect his family slipping through the calm demeanor he’d been so close to regaining. “Do you understand me? After the things he said, the things he called her? It's not happening."

His mother nodded. "I understand."

"That little girl is mine. I'm not being tricked into raising someone else's kid!"

"I know, sweetheart,” she said as she attempted a step closer. He flinched but didn’t move away. She took another step. “Gram showed me a picture of her. She looks just like you."

He frowned at her hint of a smile, at her hand extending his way like to earn the trust of an aggressive puppy.

"Jake, I'm so sorry,” She near whispered. She was closer than he realized—he blamed it on his blurring vision—and her palm tentatively landed on his forearm. “This is not how I wanted things to be. You’re my son. The woman you love is outside that door and she birthed my granddaughter.” Her fingers lightly squeezed. “The last thing I want is to be alienated from the family you’ve made.”

For what felt like the hundredth time in the last week, Jake didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think right. He felt lost, and the only things capable of bringing him to safety were not within grabbing distance, separated from him by a door that might as well have been a mile away.

Another palm met his other forearm and his arms were carefully untwined. One of his hands was sandwiched between two smaller ones. He couldn’t decide if it was comforting.

He’d never been terribly close to her, less close to his father, but it didn’t change that she was, in fact, his mother. He’d always feel a bond, in some form. And knowing that her actions, her words, or lack thereof, were too often influenced by being under his father’s thumb stuck in the back of his mind. Rarely did she drift, knowing she’d have to face his frustration, but she had this time, for him, for his child, and it made things all the more difficult. Confusing.

"I know what was said was…horrible. And—" Her eyelids briefly closed as she shook her head. She blew out a subtle breath before looking up at him. “I know I didn't do anything about it. I didn't call you and tell you I wasn't on his side in this. But that's what I'm doing now."

His lips parted but she continued.

“If it doesn’t work, if you don’t want me around them, then I’ll go. I’ll respect that, sweetheart, but I just wanted to try.”

The longer she stood there, the longer she had her hands around his, looking as desperate as she did, the harder it was for Jake to maintain the same depth of anger that he’d been so attached to. It seeped away with the nagging obligation to let her try to be a grandmother to his daughter. Not just for his mother, but for Eve. His baby girl, for whom he would willingly spend his entire life trying to provide everything she deserved and more.

Jake sighed.

“You can meet them,” he said, “But—”

She smiled. “That’s enough for now. I wouldn’t ask for more.”

Good. He wouldn’t give her more. Not now. Not until he saw for himself how she behaved around you and his baby.

Nodding, he said, “Come on, then.”

He could feel her nerves again as they stepped out the back door of the bar, but the moment he saw your face, all of his attention went to you and what you were going to think about what he’d just agreed to.

You only gave a brief look to his mother, a small smile with it, before your eyes were back on his. The question in them he responded to with a nod, then his mother stepped out from behind him. She hadn’t a chance to get a good look at Eve when she arrived, but now that the girl was right in front of her, snuggled in your arms, his mother couldn’t peel her eyes away.

Her hand raised to cover her mouth and muffle the light sob that escaped as she stared in awe at the girl. She eased over to you.

"Could I—" She started but hesitated.

Jake understood her pause. His mother was asking another mother—a woman she didn’t truly know—if she could hold her baby. And what mother would hand her child over to a stranger? He respected her for recognizing that. For not assuming she had a claim on his child.

A relationship with Eve would be a gift to her, but not one she could demand. It was a gift that must be granted. A decision; His and yours. And while he had decided he was ok with his mother being around Eve, you, too, would have to agree.

“Would it be alright with you if I held her?” his mother finally asked.

You looked at Jake again and he nodded again—extra reassurance that he trusted the intentions of the woman asking you to hand over your entire world.

Smile spreading across your face, you said, “Of course,” and lifted Eve in his mother’s direction.

"Oh…gosh,” she breathed, settling the girl on her hip. "You're so wonderful, aren't you."

Her words were breaking as they left her lips, but she continued to murmur sweet praises as she hugged the baby girl close, and kissed the top of her blonde head, and ran her fingers over the much smaller ones. His mother looked at and held her son’s daughter as if she were unreal, delicate, breakable. And that’s exactly what she was. Eve was a miracle—one that brought her parents together again when it seemed so horribly unlikely, and she needed to be treated as such.

Jake’s heart squeezed so beautifully at the sight, and the tears he thought had come and gone threatened to reemerge. He felt full. Oddly complete in a way he didn’t anticipate.

It was uncomfortable to realize how much he wanted that acceptance, for himself, for you, for his child, but he couldn’t deny the relief of seeing his mother care. Not judging but loving the way he chose to live his life despite it being so different than what was expected of him.

A brush against his hand pulled him away from the scene. You tugged on his fingers and grinned when his eyes met yours. You pulled more, but Jake was already moving to sit beside you on the bench.

“You ok?” you asked as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You leaned into him.

“I’m giving it a chance,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’ll see.”

----

A/N: this will have a 2nd part.

Turn on notifications for this blog or @seresinhangmanjake-library if you would like to keep up with my writing.

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frownyalfred · 5 months

Note

Hey Res! Please ignore this ask if it's too troublesome or bothersome

I saw you had an guide for non-drikers writers that wanted to write about a character who drink. I was wondering if you could the same about guns?

I read synchronicity and I loved it how you used Jason's knowledge with guns to control the narrative and pacing. I don't know if you have actual technical knowledge on handguns (I think it's a no? But maybe you do?) But any tip is nice

Thank you a lot 🩷

Hi anon! This is such a fascinating question and I hope I can provide a somewhat plausible answer. I am familiar with some guns and have shot a few in my lifetime, but I am far from an expert.

Some things I think writers need to keep in mind while writing their firearm-related scenes. For clarity, I'm just going to call them guns below.

Are you thinking of a specific gun? Make sure you know its full name but ALSO make sure you know its nickname. Your character might think of it as "the Berretta" instead of its full name, etc.

What does your gun fire? Does it take shells, bullets, cartridges, etc? Shotguns, for example, don't fire bullets. That's a common mistake I see.

How do you reload said gun? Is it easy? What parts of the gun do you have to touch? Reloading a shotgun is MUCH different from reloading a handgun, for example.

Most guns get hot and release gunpowder residue when shot. They're LOUD. You can have several cascading things happen to a character who fires a gun or is near a gun when it fires: ringing ears, the smell of gunpowder, the hot feeling of the gun's muzzle, etc.

Even the best sharpshooters miss shots. IRL shooting is HARD, especially when moving. Different guns have different benefits to shooting style, stance, targets. Firing a handgun willy-nilly will rarely result in accurate shots, even if you dual wield (which is silly, this is SO hard).

Stance MATTERS. If you've ever seen Hannibal, there's a scene where Will talks about his choice of shooting stance with Beverly. They bicker over Isosceles and Weaver, which are two standard stances. One uses a triangle between your arms and the gun to brace for the kickback of the shot, while the other moves that brace to one side with a different grip. Will eventually chooses the latter stance because of a past shoulder injury. (GIF of Will struggling with his original isosceles stance)

If a gun isn't properly braced when fired, it will kick back and hit you. Sometimes in the face. Yes this has happened with me and a rifle. My first day shooting cans, I had a huge bruise on my face AND on my chest where the rifle butt kicked back.

If your gun uses bullets, there are different calibers. If you've ever watched Mythbusters, you can see why caliber matters -- it depends what or who you're shooting. Are you trying to penetrate armor? Are you sacrificing accuracy for power? Different guns use different calibers for numerous reasons, and guns can be altered to use other ammo as well.

With respect to discussing caliber while writing: It's all VERY complicated if you don't know guns, so make sure you're not giving too much detail if you can avoid it. That's a very easy way to spot a lack of experience with guns, in my experience. Your reader doesn't need to know the caliber just because the character is shooting a gun -- but in an autopsy, sure, the caliber is relevant.

You will lose your hearing eventually if you fire guns close to your ears unprotected. It's not sexy, and it also causes something called tinnitus. The real pros wear ear protection.

In terms of realism for writing, here's a couple rapid fire busted myths: You can't dodge bullets unless you're superhuman. Bullet wounds to the legs/arms/shoulders can absolutely still be fatal. Cardiac arrest caused by being shot is usually fatal, and CPR doesn't really help on its own. "Running out of shots" depends on the gun AND the modifications someone has made to it. You can't always tell just by looking at a gun what it will do. Silencers are rarely "silent" and are heavily regulated.

Injuries: Some bullets tear through bodies. Some aren't high enough caliber to do more than go in and lodge in some tissue. Some fragment and bounce around in weird ways. Depending on how gruesome you want to get, there's a lot of different ways to describe gunshot injuries. I've always been the kind of person to google images for better understanding, but I understand that's not for everyone. I think NYT or WaPo did a good piece on traumatic gun injuries a few years back, complete with an interview with an ER doc from Chicago (?). One thing I learned there -- sometimes people lose their legs, or both legs, after being shot in their leg.

In terms of describing how someone uses/fights with guns, I know the John Wick movies are a little cheesy, but they are staged by people who REALLY know their guns. They talk about what he's using usually before the scene starts, and there's very few frills when it comes to stance, firing, etc. John does a cool trick in the first or second movie where he ejects a casing one-handed away from his face, a notoriously hard maneuver that most people usually do with two hands to avoid getting burned. I highly recommend watching the John Wick movies for blocking ideas.

Which reminds me -- holding a gun sideways is a terrible idea. For many reasons. Stance, casing ejection, stability, etc. Someone can use it against you.

Never point a gun at something you're not willing to shoot. Well-trained characters should follow this rule religiously. If they were soldiers, agents, etc, they will know this rule.

Similarly, multiple people with guns will "clear" a room before entering. They will be trained for something called crossfire, which is when someone is downrange of their gun and could potentially be shot. A group of characters bursting into a room without clearing their shot is a nightmare. This is how people shoot their friends or random civilians.

I hope someone more knowledgeable can add onto this! These are just some big things that stick out to me when reading. I highly recommend checking out Mythbusters, John Wick, and even Hannibal for some semi-realistic shooting references. Good luck!

#asks #anon #fic writing #tw guns #tw firearms #tw discussion of guns #myfic #theresurrectionist #writing #fic background #writing references #writing reference #writing research

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7ndipity · 1 year

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Hi! Can I get BTS' reaction to their kid being trilingual and code switching (it's switching from one language to another effortlessly) constantly? Like their mom is Puerto Rican, and she taught them English and Spanish and they have a conversation with their kid where they answer something like "아이씨... 아빠! 그거 난 때문에 아니야!~ Eso fue crazy Jiwon! 현우 좋아하니까 she does crazy stuff todo el tiempo. Es bien annoying 진짜 미쳤어... 근데 I'm a good kid! Tu offspring perfecto~ so no me castigues, 응?~" (translation: aish...dad! That wasn't my fault!~ It was Jiwon! Because she likes Hyunwoo she does crazy stuff all the time. It's really annoying and crazy... But I'm a good kid! Your perfect offspring!~ So don't ground me, okay?~)

Honestly, their reactions to this would be so funny to me!

Masterlist

Requests are open

Seokjin: Just kinda blinks slowly as he tries to at least pretend like he understood what was just said, but fails because he's always like "How do you do that?!"

Yoongi: Stares at them for moment, more impressed that anything, before asking "I'm gonna need you to go over that again, but slower, please."

Hobi: Poor man's brain blue-screens like a crashed computer. He's been trying hard to learn English and Spanish but hearing it combined in such a rapid-fire secession was beyond his comprehension.

Namjoon: The least thrown by it and just kinda rolls with it, since he understood about 80% of what was said.(he code switches too, we've seen it)

Jimin: Utterly flabbergasted every single time. Does that little "ooh, oof" thing like when he saw Joons U.N. speech.

Taehyung: Proud but stunned at the way they just slip from one language to another, honestly gets distracted and misses most of what was said.

Jungkook: Thinks it's so cool! Tries so hard to keep up with them and speak a combination of all three as well, but just slower. "아니야! You know better than that!"

#bts reactions #bts reaction #bts scenarios #dad!bts #bts requests #requests #seokjin reaction #jin reaction #yoongi reaction #hoseok reaction #namjoon reaction #jimin reaction #taehyung reaction #jungkook reaction #7ndipity

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ggidolsmuts · 2 years

Text

Orgasmic State of Mind - Aespa Karina

"What?! 16000 won for a bottle of soju?" Winter blurts out loud, looking at the prices on the menu.

"It's probably more, given exchange rates..." you mutter, hoping no one else heard the outburst from outside the private room.

"But we can get it for like a thousand in Korea!"

"We're not in Korea, it is what it is, do you want it or not?" Karina smiles apologetically at you, as if embarrassed by Winter's naivety. You're in K-Town—West 32nd Street, the closest thing to Gangnam in Manhattan, except it's not very close, geographically or otherwise. Regardless, you're at one of the nicer Korean restaurants in the area, in a private room you booked for aespa.

"Eh fine, let's just get three bottles."

"Three?" you ask, confirming what you heard.

"We finished with our performances on this trip, let's just cut loose!" Winter whines, and Giselle heartily agrees.

"Sure, do you know what food you want to eat?"

"Yeah I just want ramyeon. Wait why is it—" A sharp draw of breath from Karina shuts her up.

"Don't worry about the price, you're here to cut loose right?" Winter sighs and takes a deep breath.

"I guess..." She perks up immediately after. "Then I want ramyeon, seafood pancake, army stew, ddeokbokki, and—" Winter eyes Karina, checking for her reaction. "And fried chicken?" she finishes in a small voice.

"Sure, do you just want to order?" you offer.

"My English isn't good."

"Who says you have to use English?"

Winter is beady eyed as the waiter walks up to them, asking in fluent Korean what they would like to order. She brightens up immediately, ordering in rapid-fire Korean. The waiter nods and disappears.

"Wow you can use Korean here?"

"It's K-Town, of course!" you chuckle. The food arrives quickly, as do the drinks, and the chatter and the soju flow free and fast, the evening eventually turning into night.

“Do you come here to eat everyday?” “Are there pochas here too?” “Why does everyone walk so fast?” The members bombard you with questions, and you happily answer them until the manager checks the time and signals to you and the group.

"We should go, it'll be crowded here if we don't leave soon." Karina nods in agreement and gestures to the other members.

"Nooooo I want to keep going, let's go for round 2! Can we do karaoke?"

Karina clicks her tongue in annoyance.

"Let's go, do you want to make a fool of yourself in New York?" Pouting, Winter reluctantly gets up from the table and let's herself be dragged out, wobbling all over the place.

"Aish, the little twerp, sorry, we'll head out," Karina apologizes and follows the members out. The van's already waiting for them outside, and as you watch them get in you allow yourself to relax, your job as their guide and translator done for the night. You pull out your phone, about to get your own ride when Karina calls out to you.

"Hey, get in!"

"What?"

"We might need your help at the hotel, could you come along?"

"Umm sure." Shrugging and hoping that their hotel wasn't too far away, you hop in the front seat and the van zooms off. A short ride later you all arrive at a swanky hotel.

"Take Winter up would you?" she asks the other members, and they nod and bid the two of you good night.

"You're not going with them?"

"I need to ask the front desk some questions, that's what I need your help for."

"Oh of course, let's go."

The two of you walk to the concierge, and you translate the easiest, most boring questions ever.

"What time is the free breakfast available? Do you do wake-up calls? Is late check-out available?"

After the trifecta of softball questions and setting a wake-up call for Karina you assume you're done, but Karina has more questions for you.

"I need your help with some of the buttons in the room."

"A-Are you sure you need me for that? Surely it's the same in all the hotels..."

"No, now follow me." Groaning at still not being able to go home yet, you follow Karina into the elevator. She opens the door to her hotel room and you trod in mindlessly before stopping dead in your tracks—you're going into the hotel room of one of the biggest idols in K-pop!

"What are you standing there for? Hurry up and come help me read this." Karina disappears into the bathroom, and your feet feel like lead, almost numb as you go towards her.

"Help me read this, which way is hot water?" Wait, was she for real?

"Umm, you can use the color too, but it's hot water to the left, and cold water to the right."

"Oh okay thanks."

"Do you need anything else?" you ask as she walks back into the hotel room.

"Yes, now that the others are in their rooms, I would like to cut loose too." You watch her top slip off her shoulders, and with a deft hand her strapless bra falls to the floor. Karina is now standing topless in front of you, her back thankfully turned—you feel like your heart might burst, like Karina's outfits frequently threaten to do.

"Umm, I should go. I mean, are you sure, I—" Karina turns around, and your mouth stays open mid-sentence as all your focus is drawn towards her chest. You're not a tits guy, but in this moment you definitely are. You've wondered vaguely what Karina would look like under her tight, form-fitting clothing, and now you know—large, perfectly shaped, and perky. You wonder how it would be like to grab—

"Are you listening, or should I wait for you to finish drooling?" Karina's voice slices through the hotel room air.

"Ah, I'm sorry." You manage to avert your eyes, looking down at the ground.

"No it's fine, I take it you're willing?"

"Willing to...?" She rolls her eyes.

"Fuck me, that's how I cut loose."

"Yeah of course!" you almost shout disbelievingly.

"Good, you should get naked then." All thoughts of going home fly out the window, and you hastily get naked in front of her—right now home is wherever the fuck Karina wants you. She smiles as she slowly reaches for the side of her skirt, and with a rustle her skirt falls to the floor too.

"Would you like to finish the job?"

You pounce on the opportunity, closing the distance to her immediately, your hard-on pressing against her tummy. But first, you had to help yourself to her chest. Karina laughs knowingly, but she lets you squeeze and cup her breasts, humming as you kiss her neck, your fingers drawing circles over her nipples.

"Of course you go for my tits first."

"Do you blame me, not everyday you get to—" you pause, fearing you were being too crass.

"What, see them, touch them, squeeze them?" Karina fires back with a smirk. "Oh, I get to do that every day. What I don't get is this!" You groan as she wraps a hand around you. You slowly back Karina onto the bed, and as you get on top of her you bring your lips further down her neck, kissing the valley between her breasts. A groan escapes you as you drag your lips over the top of one breast—Karina has trapped your cock between her thighs, and she slowly squirms and moves them, her smooth skin pleasuring you.

"Oh fuck... That feels good!" you gasp.

"I'm glad, I'm not all tits you know, how about let's get to the main course?" Karina asks, her pretty face flush with arousal. You could have stayed in Karina's cleavage forever, but you were more than fine with what would come next. You smoothly pull off her panties, and Karina immediately gets on all fours at the edge of the bed showing you that indeed, she is not all tits.

"Fuck me just like this!"

You follow her command, your hands going from grabbing her breasts to something just as curvy—her hips. Karina reaches between her own legs, grabbing you and pressing your cock against her. The two of you moan as she rubs you against her mons, and you're already pushing slightly in and out, fucking the space between her hand and body.

"Mmm I have a request, think you can do it?" You nod vigorously—right now you'd do anything she wanted you to do.

"Good, I need you to fuck me hard, I don't need you to go fast, just fuck me deep and hard, got it?" Karina releases you, two thin fingers instead going to her pussy, parting her lips for you.

"Now put it in." Your tip finds her entrance, and her fingers close around you, making sure you stay there. You keep pushing into her, until finally her fingers reach the base of your shaft—you are buried deep inside Karina!

"Oh god..." you moan, releasing the breath you didn't even know you were holding.

"Mmmm that's nice." She tightens around you briefly, as if trying to get an idea of your size. "Now fuck me hard."

You pull back, and with your mind focused on not blowing early, you push firmly back into Karina. She snaps her head back, but not in pleasure.

"What was that? I want you to pound me, not lightly pat me!" You grunt as you pull out, this time pushing in more forcefully.

"How was that?"

"Better, that was still more like a smack. Pull me back on you!" You do just that, your fingers digging into her hips, and this time you pull her back as you push forward. You manage to extract a moan from her, but it is soft and not carnal, like a moan you have when you turn on a massage chair rather than a moan from you plunging deep into her. Karina reaches back, grabbing your arm and squeezing you.

"Better, but use those arms! That thrust felt like you had noodles for arms, really yank me!" Annoyed at the comparison, you pull out all the way, leaving only your tip in her. Your arms tense, and your fingers dig even more deeply into her hips, no doubt leaving red marks on her pale skin. This time you snap your hips forward, using your core to throw yourself into her. Her butt collides with you in a resounding clap, and that is followed by a loud satisfying moan from Karina.

"Oh fuck, yes that's it, keep doing that!"

You repeat the motion, watching her butt and thighs ripple as you slam into her again. You can't take your eyes off her ass—what was previously pale creamy skin is already slightly pink. Karina turns back to you, the cheeks on her face pinker than the ones on her butt.

"Why'd you stop? Keep going, keep going until I tell you to stop."

You pull back, and slam forward again, and again, and again. It is definitely a workout as you use your whole body to fuck her, but you don't mind—the slow pace works in your favor, allowing you to last longer inside Karina. Going by her moans, you are doing it for her as well, her fingers gripping the bedsheets tightly whenever you send yourself deep inside her.

"Yes..." Her moans grow higher in pitch, every thrust sending a bolt of pleasure straight up her spine. This was how she liked to be fucked; her previous lovers rarely had the discipline to not just go to town on the Karina, merely rutting into her quickly, as if that would give her pleasure! She would end up understimulated and her partners overstimulated, hitting their peak far too quickly, much to her displeasure and lack of pleasure.

But you! Karina's glad you're able to do as she says, every withdrawal of your shaft leaving her body aching for more, her pussy becoming wetter as if experiencing an actual withdrawal, just begging for the next hit of cock.

"Ah!" Her vision goes dark, her eyes rolling into her head briefly as you give it to her again, sending her well-maintained hair flying every which way. Unlike a drug though, her body doesn't build up a tolerance for your cock but instead builds up in pleasure, slowly bringing her to a peak, like a slow rising roller coaster. Over and over you slam into her, and the slight sting of her butt is drowned out by the cauldron of pleasure she's in, your thrusts edging her to orgasm, threatening to bubble over with every additional hit of cock.

Until it finally does.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum..." Karina gasps right before you slam into her again, and this time she yelps before biting down on the bedsheets, screaming into the mattress as her entire body shakes and tenses in front of you. Her walls pulse rhythmically around you, and as you pull out of her a wild hand flails at you, drawing your attention. Karina looks hotter than you've ever seen her, lying on the bed panting, sheets crunched up and slightly pulled off the bed from where she was biting it.

"Don't stop, keep going, keep making me cum!" You impale yourself in her again, and Karina is forced to turn away from you, burying her head into the mattress. She misses her bite on the sheets though, and the scream that rings in the room is uncontrollable.

Like a runaway roller coaster, once Karina crests the first peak each becomes easier than the last, and every other thrust she seems to tighten around you, crying into the bed as she does. Her arms go weak, her breasts pressed softly and deliciously against the bed. But she keeps her hips raised, or rather, you keep her hips raised, holding her up for you to continue pumping. You stab and spear and plunge orgasm after orgasm into Karina, each one causing her pleasure to boil and spill out of her, never letting her off the edge of orgasm until finally, she runs out of energy and pleasure.

"Stop, stop, pull out!" You pull out of her, and she immediately covers her pussy with a hand, as if to prevent you from thrusting into her again. Overstimulated to the limit, her makeup runs down her eyes as she turns to face you—she really was crying into the bed. "Get on top of me!"

As you get on top of her she beckons you further up her body, and when her hands grab her own breasts, you know what she means. With a curse you slip your slippery shaft between her globes, and as she rapidly moves her tits back and forth to jerk you off, you realize there's no need to go slow. A few quick thrusts of your hips later you press your balls to her breasts, thrusting your tip through her cleavage before exploding.

"God Karina!" Driven by the momentum of your final thrust, the first rope lands across her face before you blast her neck and chin with cum. She continues to use her breasts to extend your orgasm, extracting a full load out of you as you plaster her creamy skin with your own cream. You continue thrusting in and out of her cleavage, wanting to memorize the feel of her chest until your tip finally disappears between her globes and reappears in it it’s soft, spent form.

Gasping, you manage to get off her and join her in staring up at the ceiling. After the loud screams and claps of your bodies earlier, the loud panting in the room is almost serene, peaceful. Karina pulls herself to the bedside table and grabs some tissues to wipe her face.

"Mmm, that was nice." As soon as her face is clean, even with cum still on her neck and starting to drain down her cleavage, she pulls you in for a kiss.

"Yeah, fuck, wow." You can only respond in single words, still not quite believing or recovered from what happened. Karina takes the time to clean herself up more, and feeling bad you reach for the tissues to, before realizing that you would be cleaning her breasts for her. Karina laughs at your pause.

"You want to clean me? You can do that in the shower."

"We're not done?" you blurt out as she walks away from you, slick shining on her thighs, her red butt on display for you.

"Are you? I thought New York is the city that never sleeps." Her next line is almost enough to get you hard immediately.

"I wasn't planning on sleeping, unless you are."

Karina enters the bathroom, and you take a deep breath, slapping your face to hopefully not wake yourself up from the dream. The soreness of fucking her hard suddenly catches up with you—you're sweating, your muscles ache, and your heart is beating way too fast. It would be too easy to lay down and just fall asleep, but no, dreams do come true, and right now, your dream come true is behind the door starting the shower, so you do as you are often told by your mom.

Take a shower after a workout, and follow your dreams.

"Good, the water's just right, come join me?" You hurry to join Karina, and she has you hold out your hand. She squeezes some soap into your hand. "Here you go, soap me up."

Karina watches with amusement as you glide your hands over her tits, pursing her lips to suppress a whine—her orgasm had left her quite sensitive. But she let's you continue, and you continue focusing on her chest as she works shampoo into her hair. By the time she was done with her long hair you are still on her chest.

"I have the rest of my body to clean too you know, you can play with them later."

"R-right, sorry." The prospect of doing more with her later makes you delay the exploration of her body for now, and after more than 10 minutes since you jumped in the shower, you reluctantly lift your hands from her and finally start washing yourself. Even as the two of you focus on getting clean, you can't help but get hard at the sight of Karina's unreal figure and the warm water flowing down and over her naked curves.

"I think we're clean enough, you certainly think so," Karina points out with a chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah I think so." You push her against the shower wall, fully happy to take her right there. She let's you kiss her, murmuring her pleasure as your hands find her butt, but she pushes you away when you get close to the apex of her thighs.

"Not here, I don't want to catch a cold, come on." She shuts the shower off and walks out, putting on a bathrobe and furiously toweling her hair dry as quickly as possible in front of the dresser. You follow her out, wearing a bathrobe but not bothering to close it.

"So, what would you like to do?" Karina's question catches you off guard as she eyes you through the dresser mirror.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I wanted you slow and hard. But I'll do it your way this time." Never did you think you'd have to answer the question, "How would you like to fuck Karina?" So your mouth hangs open a little as you ponder the pop quiz.

"Umm... fast and hard?"

"Ugh that never works for me, men always blow it early. How about this, you fuck me slow and hard, and once you get me off you can go as fast as you want."

"Yeah, that works. Let me know when you're done with your hair."

"Why wait?" Karina softly asks as she leans over the dresser, not-so-subtly bringing the bathrobe over her hips. You don't hesitate at her invitation, and with your robe already open you simply plunge into her once more. A loud moan escapes her as she braces herself, one hand on the dresser and another on the mirror. In this position Karina's able to push back against you, and she takes full advantage of it, timing and throwing herself back on you as you shove yourself into her.

"Yeah mmph, just like that!"

You try to pull her back on you with every thrust, but Karina pushing back on you is throwing your timing off. And slightly annoyed you grab her arms, using them as handles instead to pull on her, making her back curve, lifting her from her bent over position.

"What— ah!"

"You're moving too much, fuck!" you growl at her.

"Wait, let me, mmm! Let me take this off."

Sweat starts to gather on her skin as Karina overheats in the bathrobe, so at her request you stop to let her drop the bathrobe to the floor, and you take the chance to do so as well.

As soon as you two are completely naked again you press her back against the dresser. With one hand you hold her wrists together, like makeshift reins on her lower back as you aim to put Karina through her paces. Your other hand goes naturally to her breasts, and she moans as you pull her half upright, letting her see the two of you in the mirror.

Karina's head rocks back and forth as you drive yourself deep into her over and over. She spies herself in the mirror between thrusts, her hair still partially wet and a total mess, one breast jiggling with every rocketing thrust into her. She gasps in pain as you slam her particularly hard against the dresser, rattling it loudly over your groan—she is definitely going to be bruised tomorrow. But as you fuck her all the way to her tiptoes, almost making her lift off the ground and wear herself on you, Karina did not mind one bit—she is getting well and truly fucked, the pleasure making her nerves tingle to her very fingertips.

"Nnngh yes!" A loud cry escapes her, and as you pull out, Karina can only manage a rushed whisper as ecstasy begins to ripple across her body, straight from her already-contracting pussy, her wild eyes looking at you through the mirror.

"I'm going to cum!"

You slam into her harshly, and with no hands available, she screams loudly into the hotel room in pain and overwhelming pleasure. It is also your signal to begin, and you immediately start rattling the dresser again and again, fully intent on hammering Karina into tomorrow. No need for slowness now, you chase your own pleasure, one hand squeezing a tit tightly, making her supple flesh spill out between your fingers as your other hand keeps a firm grip on her wrist, her fingernails scratching red lines on your arm.

"Oh— Fuck— Yes— Ahhh— Guh— Nnngh fuck meeee!" Karina can only wail powerlessly as she lets herself get railed into the next timezone, your rabid thrusts building up pleasure far too quickly for her to contend with. She doesn’t want you to stop, she can’t make you stop, but her heart was going to stop if you kept going!

It's not so much a roller coaster as it is a freefall of pleasure for Karina, her entire body sore and aching and on fire as she orgasms uncontrollably, part joyride from hell and part waterpark with how wet and how hot she feels around you. Just as abruptly as the ground stops a fall it all thankfully ends—she lands on the dresser with an unceremonious thump, and she's too fucked out of her mind to even register the hot streaks of cum across her lower back.

You narrowly miss hitting Karina in the head as you plant your hands on the dresser, bracing yourself and trying to recover from the spirited fucking you just had with her. She turns to face you, but her voice is shot, and you barely make out her quiet plea.

"Bed."

You manage to help her the short distance from dresser to bed, and not even caring about or realizing the cum on her back she flops on to it, her entire body flushed from exertion. You are similarly tired, and you collapse right next to her. The two of you pant and gasp, taking long and deep breaths. The room is peaceful for once, and just when it seemed like you would be falling asleep, Karina wraps an arm around your torso and slowly pulls herself on top of you.

"What is it?" you mumble and ask. You open your eyes, and the pout on her face would be cute, if it wasn't for the blush of orgasmic joy on her cheeks, or her breasts pressed deliciously against your chest, or her hand reaching down and stroking you to full hardness.

"I'm not ready to sleep yet." With her head buried in your neck, it is not sleep that takes you, but Karina, taking you back inside her. You grunt in overexertion, and even as you try to thrust up into her, your core is too sore to do anything substantial. Karina sucks on your neck and whispers in your ear.

"It's fine, just let me ride you." You gratefully groan your assent, wrapping your arms around her as she squirms and wriggles against you. With rest and desire comes lustful strength, and soon Karina has pushed herself off your chest, letting you admire her body as she bounces on top of you slightly, whining every time the base of your shaft meets her slick lips. You are a passenger on her ride, but what a ride it is as she reaches between her legs, a finger rubbing circles around her clit as she tries to get herself off.

"Oh fuck, yeah baby..." Whimpers escape her as you lift a tired hand to help, replacing her hand with yours. Karina leans back, shamelessly showing herself off on top of you—legs spread and breasts bouncing while she bucks herself against you. A quiet moan is all that escapes her, but the trickle of slick down your shaft is unmistakable. When she is done Karina manages to push herself forward on to you again, her arms wrapping around your neck.

"Cum in me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's a safe day, I'm just too tired to get off you." She grinds against you, working her muscles, and with the few quick thrusts you have left in reserve, you groan and spill into her, turning the trickle of fluid out of her white.

"Mmm that's hot, fuck I just let you do that to me, it's so warm..." Karina whines mindlessly into your neck, enjoying the new heat inside her. Her fingers trace lines on your chest, and despite her slowed breathing you realize Karina is really not planning on sleeping.

"Do me again when you're ready."

The two of you romp tiredly around in bed, your hands working overtime as you deftly finger and play with Karina until you are hard again, at which point you take her in a number of bed-friendly positions. Over and over the cycle repeats, stopping only for short water breaks and to clean your messes. You take her prone; she sits in your lap, using the headboard for leverage; you spoon her, scooping out juice and leftover cum from her pussy with every weak thrust.

You thoroughly explore Karina’s body, and by the time the dark night changes to a dim dawn you find yourself looking at Karina's well-ploughed wetness—the 69 position was the only one left, your tongue and jaws the only muscles not screaming in soreness.

Karina let's her face sink down on you, her moans muffled by your meat in her mouth. You tongue her best you can, flicking over her oversensitive nub in between tongue-thrusts. She extracts one more weak spurt out of you before lifting her head and groaning, her walls clenching down on your tongue equally weakly. She rolls off you, and when you manage to sit up you finally see her eyes close, her chest heaving rhythmically as she falls asleep quickly.

You try to do the same, but you swear it has only been fifteen minutes before the blaring ringtone of the room phone wakes both of you up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, yes, this is the wake-up call you requested?"

"Oh, thank you."

"Mmm already?" Karina mumbles tiredly, sitting up and grimacing at the morning sunlight peeking in through the curtains. "When were we supposed to meet you in the lobby again?"

You rack your muddled brain to try and find the right answer, before giving up and looking for your phone.

"Uhh... In an hour. I should go home and shower or something."

"Just shower here." Karina waves her hand, still in a sleepy daze.

"I don't have clothes to change into."

"So what?"

"Yes, I meet you all wearing the exact same clothes as I wore yesterday, that's not suspicious at all. Besides, don't you need to shower too?"

"Fine, go, I'll see you in a bit." You get dressed but stay for a short while, taking one last chance to see her naked. She winces as she pulls her panties on, and you notice the dark bruise across her hips.

"What is that?!"

"Well you banged me right against the dresser, so yeah."

"Oh fuck, I'm so sorry!"

"No it'll be okay, I'll just wear some high-waisted jeans or something, our next schedule isn't for a week I think anyway."

"But can you practice and stuff, how are you going to dance—" Karina shuts you up with a finger against your lips, and then her lips against your lips.

"Don’t worry, it's fine, now go!" She shoves you out her door, and reeking of filthy sex you stumble out of her room. Luckily no one catches you, and you quickly make a trip back home before returning to the hotel, only five minutes late.

"Where were you? You're late!" Aespa's manager mutters as you apologize profusely. "Are you okay? You don't look so good."

"Yeah, just umm, didn't get much sleep." You finish lamely, and behind the manager you see Karina laugh quietly at your answer. "Come, let's go to the airport."

You help get them all checked in, and they thank you for helping them during their trip.

"Thank you so much, we really enjoyed the trip, it was very memorable, especially the last night!" You almost choke at Karina's words.

"Y-you're welcome!" You can feel the blood rising up your face, but no one reacts, and all you see is a slight smirk on Karina's otherwise neutral expression.

"Well then, this is it, thank you!" The manager shakes your hand, and to your surprise Karina extends her hand as well.

"Thank you for everything," she says, presumably taking her role as aespa's leader to thank you. But no one catches her wink, the piece of paper she slips into your hand, or her slightly bowlegged stance as you watch her pass through security.

On your way back you unfold the piece of paper, and in it was a scribbled number and a message. You clap your face again, both to wake up properly and make sure it is still not a dream—nope, your face hurts now.

Let me know if you're ever in Korea, I'll show you that Seoul never sleeps either ;)

A/N: I saw some random porn vid of just slow and hard fucking, and tried to think of who would be the best idol to do it to, and I landed on Karina. It worked out Aespa did a thing in New York, so to New York we go. That’s as far as I thought it through lol, anyways thanks for reading!

#smut #karina #aespa

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e-dubbc11 · 5 months

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Two Heartbeats

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F! Reader

Warnings: Angst, tears, and fluff

Word Count: 1.7K-ish

Summary: Even though you’re not his to protect anymore, Matt still checks up on you every night. And after several weeks of nightly visits without your knowledge, he hears something that scares him and leaves him frozen in place. He needs to talk to you.

A/N: Now I haven’t written for Matt in a LONG time, I really hope it’s alright. I miss writing for him, inspiration just hasn’t hit me in awhile. Anyway, I don’t know what the deal is with not being able to answer certain asks from my inbox but this one was sent to me by my love @ittybxttykxttytxtty I hope you like it!

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Shadows danced across the pavement as the nocturnal symphony of Hell’s Kitchen started to play. The ethereal glow from the moon passed through the gray clouds turning them white and then back to gray again.

Matt Murdock couldn’t see the shadows or the moon although he felt them both. The pull of the moon when it was full caused all the crazies to come out. The night whispered to him, telling him all of her secrets, telling him everyone’s secrets.

The dark shadows were caused by pedestrians as they walked by. As he stood perched on a rooftop above his world, he could hear when they stepped on a bottlecap, or swore under their breath because they stepped in freshly discarded gum.

A slight smirk tugged across his mouth when they did that, it amused him. With a subtle tilt of the head, he licked his lips, the cool nighttime air dried them out as he honed in on those sounds. Calls of distress were coming from all directions now.

But you were safe and that’s all that mattered. He always checked on you to make sure you were alright even if you weren’t his to protect anymore.

The black hood protected his identity as he protected his city. By day, he tried to protect Hell’s Kitchen the right way, the legal way. But at night, the Devil came out and the law went out the window.

The childhood accident that took Matt’s sight from him, heightened the rest of his senses which he used to his advantage. He used them to stop those cries for help he would hear in the middle of the night. The residents of Hell’s Kitchen deserved to feel safe in their homes and you were the resident that meant the most to him.

Outside your window, he would whisper to you. “I’m always here, sweetheart.” He loved you but never wanted you to know he was there. Matt knew you would be furious if you found out he was outside, listening to you because he had put you through enough; the secrets and the lies were what you couldn’t handle. It wasn’t the cuts, bruises or stitches. All you had wanted was the truth and he couldn’t give it to you so you left.

Matt could sense something was off, your hormone level maybe? He wasn’t quite sure. It would explain why you were absolutely furious and acting a little irrational.

And after 6 weeks of nightly visits, he heard something coming from your apartment that stopped him dead in his tracks. His own heart rate increased and his rapid inhales and exhales of his breathing almost became uncontrollable.

The Devil heard TWO heartbeats…and they were both coming from you.

Clinging to the fire escape, he listened for a minute. The second heartbeat was much faster than yours, Matt sensed it was a part of him and he couldn’t move, he was frozen in place.

Screams and calls for help tore Matt away from your window but he would be back and next time, he wouldn’t just be standing outside. He desperately needed to talk to you.

**********

After a long day at work and the doctor, you were finally able to take your shoes off and relax. Normally after a long day like today, you’d relax with a little tv and a glass of wine but you wouldn’t be having any wine for another several months, at least.

And even if you did, you probably wouldn’t be able to keep that down either. There wasn’t a lot you were able to keep down lately aside from clementines and bagels but you were thankful that New York bagels were large so they kept you full for a long time.

Frequent trips to the ladies room at work was getting old. You were hoping that your morning sickness wouldn’t last too much longer but all pregnancies were different. Who knows how long this part would last?

Your thoughts drifted to Matt.

You wished you knew what it was he was keeping from you. How many chances did you give him to come clean and explain himself yet he still didn’t tell you the truth?

You missed him though.

And you were going to have to tell him about the baby sooner or later because it was the right thing to do.

Matt was going to be a father, you just had to gather the courage to tell him.

**********

Every time Matt felt brave enough to talk to you, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He still checked on you nightly, listened to your and the baby’s heartbeat for a little while before fleeing to fight the evil of Hell’s Kitchen.

He had arguments with himself constantly about what he wanted to say to you. His days had been long and his nights even longer but he made his decision that he would make time to talk to you…tonight.

Enough time had passed to where you found out you were having a girl. Going to your doctor’s appointments by yourself was scary and lonely. You watched as other expectant mothers brought their significant others with them to their appointments and wished Matt was with you.

You were going to tell him…soon.

**********

Something startled you awake but you didn’t know what it was. It was just a feeling you had, that someone was inside your apartment. The metal baseball bat you kept under your bed was always at arm’s length and as you reached for it, you heard a low gravelly voice coming from the chair on the other side of the room.

“Don’t swing for the fences, sweetheart. It’s just me.” Said Matt.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you saw an outline of a silhouette sitting in your chair before flicking the lamp on.

He had a black hood over his head, covering half of his face. The rest of his clothes were black from head to toe and suddenly you recognized the figure. You had seen his picture in the paper and now that you thought about it, remembering certain photos, you recognized that ass anywhere.

“Matty?! What the fu—? Y-you’re the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?!!” You asked, shocked to your core.

Suddenly the cuts, stitches and bruises…they all made sense. All of the late nights, unanswered phone calls, and why he was so secretive. It all came together, he was sitting in your apartment, confessing to what he was doing, why he was doing it, and why he felt like he had to hide the truth from you.

“I am so so sorry, Angel.” He said.

You sat there in the gathering darkness, stunned and speechless at the trace of desperation in his voice as he talked to you. He confessed his secrets to you just as Hell’s Kitchen confesses its secrets to him…every night.

With no warning, you just blurted out your secret.

“I’m pregnant.” You said, softly.

Matt replied, “I know, sweetheart.”

He went on to explain that the accident had left his other senses heightened.

“…So I can hear your heart beating right now. And I can hear the baby’s.” He said.

With tears swimming in your eyes, you were finally able to find your voice.

“Do you understand why I left, Matthew?” You asked him.

Matt had taken off his hood and moved from the chair to the edge of your bed. You could see his soft brown eyes now in the low light of the bedroom.

“I do but I don’t understand why you couldn’t trust me enough to know it was because I wanted to keep you safe. I don’t want you involved in that part of my life.” He said.

You raised your voice a little. “You can’t separate something like that, Matt! I don’t want to be involved with just PART of your life. Just like I don’t think you want to be involved with just PART of mine! Ya know so far I’ve gone to ALL of my doctor’s appointments alone? I hate going by myself!”

He replied, “But I wanted to do that with you! You could have asked me!”

Matt was slightly agitated. You could tell by the way he pressed his lips into a straight line and how his breathing became more rapid. He stood up and placed his hands firmly on his hips.

“Oh you did?! How? Would you have penciled me in between court and fighting crime?” You yelled sarcastically.

He reached for your hand.

“I don’t wanna fight with you, y/n. I really am sorry.” Said Matt.

To a point, you could understand why he kept all of that from you. Keeping you safe was very important to Matt and now he had an even bigger reason to keep you safe, to keep the both of you safe. The tension in your shoulders eased a little; you knew stress couldn’t be good for the baby.

Matt could feel your body relax as you squeezed his hand.

“Please don’t keep things from me, Matty, ok? I’m gonna need your help when she gets here.” You said with a warm smile.

The corners of Matt’s mouth turned up into a sly smile.

“She?” He asked in barely more than a whisper. “We’re having a girl?”

Matt sat down on the bed once again, closer to you this time, and removed his black gloves. His eyes looked more hazel than brown at the moment as he put his hand out, wanting to touch your stomach.

“Is it ok?” He asked.

You took his hand in yours and placed it on your stomach. “Of course it is. I feel little flutters now and then…like that! Did you feel that?” You asked.

Matt smiled, let out a slight chuckle and nodded.

The gap between your bodies became smaller as you inched closer to him where you could feel his breath on your lashes and close enough to inhale his scent.

Matt brushed his knuckles along your cheek as his lips searched for yours; he kissed you tenderly and slowly like he was scared he was going to break you.

“I’m not gonna pop, Matthew. You don’t have to be THAT gentle.” You said as you kissed him again.

“I’ll remember that, sweetheart.” Said Matt with a devilish smile. “Have you thought of any names for her yet?”

You gently rubbed your belly.

“Maybe.” You replied.

A ghost of a smile stretched across his lips

“Can you tell me what they are?” He asked.

You bit down on your lower lip before replying.

“Maybe.”

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @elgrandeavocados @freshabogados @gijos @chezagnes @matt-erialgirl

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @pedrito-friskito @mattmurdocksscars @theradioactivespidergwen

Thank you for reading, I appreciate it! I’ve only tagged a handful of people. If you liked it, you can tell me, I don’t bite. I know I haven’t written for Matt in awhile, no pressure.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock fluff #winter sleepover 2024 #ericca answers

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elderberries-and-honey · 3 months

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Lawrence continued to wake long before the house began to stir, when the moon and sun hung simultaneously, vying for dominance in the sky. That was, if he managed to sleep at all.

He had moments in-between his darkened moods, mostly during the precious few moments that he actually got to spend with his family, that the clouds in his mind parted but for the most part, he remained unhappy. His wife noticed his exhaustion of course, worrying silently much of the time, trying to remind him to slow down every once in awhile. However they both understood it simply wasn't within in their means for Lawrence to not have to work so damn hard.

That didn't keep Winifred from trying to brighten up his days whenever they got lucky and their children remaining asleep a few extra hours in the morning. And that morning in particular, it seemed they had been blessed with good fortune.

"Good morning," She whispered, her voice velvety and almost melodic, a tone she saved only for her husband, while her digits began dancing along the woolen fabric of his trousers.

Lawrence tried to slow his thoughts, to stop thinking about his seemingly never ending to-do list.

He thought of the drunk he'd had to kick out the night before, the pesticide that wasn't working to remove the bugs, the chickens that needed more feed, and the soil that needed tilling. Around and around the thoughts circled, unable to slow them long enough to concentrate on the warmth of his wife's delicate hand slowly beginning to move downwards.

As she slipped her hand into his trousers, Lawrence's heart began to race. Her gentle hands were more than welcome, and her supple lips kissing his chest through his shirt would have normally been all it took to bring him closer to that euphoric place he so often craved to be at with her.

It wasn't that he didn't want to go there, truly, he did! But it seemed nothing was happening, his body simply not responding to the movements of Winifred's softened hands inside his slacks. He laid back, staring at the ceiling while his mind didn't allow him any grace, even at an intimate moment such as this, and continued to fire at a rapid pace.

Once Winifred realized what was happening, or what wasn't happening rather, she withdrew her hand immediately. "Is everything alright?" She asked sheepishly.

Lawrence sighed, closing his eyes as he settled back into the pillows, a masculine attempt to mask his embarrassment, he simply nodded in response.

This had never happened in their three years of marriage, and she hardly knew what to think, only that she felt guilty for not realizing sooner that he hadn't been in the mood. "I'm sorry, Lawrence, I wouldn't have if I'd known that you didn't want to." She clarified.

"It isn't that I don't to, I just can't right now...I suppose I'm still rather tired." That was the understatement of the century. He was far past tired, beyond exhausted even and this was proof that his body couldn't keep going like this for much longer.

Nonetheless, with Lawrence continuing to put on a courageous face day after day, Winifred could not have realized how much he was suffering inside. Consequently, she started coming up with an explanation for his rejection the way she knew best - by blaming herself.

Since her second pregnancy, she had put on more weight, and while she tried her best to view it as an act of love rather than something superficial, she had become quite self conscious about her slightly pudgy tummy and stretch marks. "Is it, is it me?" She asked out loud. Once the question left her lips though, she couldn't even look in her husband's direction anymore, dreading to hear the answer.

Having nearly gone mute with humiliation, Lawrence hid his face in his hand, trying to keep Winifred from noticing the way his cheeks now flushed.

Eventually, Lawrence rose from their bed with a heavy sigh. He wanted to reassure her, explain that it wasn't her fault in the least, that she was the most stunning woman he'd ever seen. But he couldn't find the right words, and so instead of saying much of anything at all, he mumbled a vague apology and headed towards the door to go find his work gloves and begin another day.

Winifred couldn't keep from feeling embarrassed, her chest rising and falling with the threat of tears until they eventually spilled over. However, the sound of her baby crying in the next room kept her from disappearing into the feeling. She simply wiped her eyes, ready to put on a happy face for her children and try to pretend this hadn't happened.

That very same afternoon, Millie and Winifred had been out shopping already at the markets when Winifred suggested they go into the secondhand store nearby. Nearly everyone they knew bought their fabrics from there, and it was much cleaner than the others in town, with hardly any stale odor or dust lingering in the air.

"What do you think of this?" Winifred asked, trying to choose between the white and pink spools of linen fabric.

"For who? Beth?" Millie asked, raising an eyebrow.

Winifred shook her head in response, dropping the fabric. "No! It's for me. My blouses are snug these days, and my skirts even tighter in the waist." She paused, turning to look at Millie's face who was still gazing at the linen. "I've been thinking maybe I need to add a little color into my wardrobe and try to be...a little more sophisticated?"

Millie furrowed her eyebrows, scrunching up her face. It was a gorgeous fabric, and it would make a striking gown for whoever decided to purchase it, but it still wasn't very 'Winifred'.

There were things that had changed about her best friend in the years that passed between them not speaking, but Millie was reasonably confident that her fondness for rich, dark colors hadn't. Or at least, she hoped not. It was one of the things that made Winifred who she was and Millie adored her allure to all things moody and macabre.

Millie and Winifred had been friends for so long that they could recall when they both wore ribbons and pigtails in their hair, since before they'd realized that someday boys were meant to cease their teasing and you were supposed to kiss them. It was a remarkable thing to keep a friendship for that many years and they both treasured it equally. Even more remarkable still, Millie could easily tell when she had something on her mind.

After a series of questions, Winifred finally told Millie what happened that morning, mortified by it all over again.

Millie responded with 'oh my', 'oh, honey' and 'you poor thing' throughout the entirety of the story. Still feeling rather troubled about it, Winifred found herself tearing up again during the retelling, but she knew that she could trust Millie.

After listening, Millie offered what she could of advice, finishing her thoughts on the matter by saying, "I've never seen anyone look at a person the way he looks at you. You move Heaven and Earth for that man, Winnie, I can promise you that."

As Millie had done for her so many times throughout their childhood, Winifred found herself feeling a bit better near the end of their conversation. She didn't know what she was going to do when Millie returned to London, but she couldn't worry herself with that thought today too.

She pulled Millie in for a hug, thanking her for the comfort, holding her for a long while before they interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. When they pulled away, they noticed the shopkeeper was looming over them.

"I wasn't try to eavesdrop on you ladies, but I couldn't help overhearing your predicament." She bit her lip nervously before continuing. "I have a garment I think might be of interest to you...will you wait a moment longer so I can retrieve it from upstairs?" She asked.

After exchanging a single glance, they both turned back to her, giving an enthusiastic 'yes!' at the same time.

next / previous / first

#1893 #let's be mature about this one y'all lol #we're all adults and these things happen okay!!! don't judge him! 🥺😅#and it's not like they would have had good sex education if any at all to have taught lawrence that it's normal ;~;#ts4 historical #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 storytelling #sims 4 storystelling #ts4 legacy #sims 4 legacy #the baudelaire legacy #1890 #winifred baudelaire #lawrence baudelaire

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solaneceae · 7 months

Text

blind devotion

a team bolas oneshot. codebreakers-centric (philza and étoiles) (read on ao3) found family, ambiguous relationships, fluff @apthotiosis tagging u because codebreakers heehee

“They’re not crow wings,” Jaiden remarks, tracing the sharp edges of the long feathers meant to catch on updrafts. “They’re too big. And you got extra bones and joints going on.” Phil hums, a hesitant eeeeeh with a twist of his hand. “There’s some crow in there. But most of it is actually—”

“Elytra!” Baghera quacks, awe lacing her voice as she croons over the white diamonds that appear beneath the grime and dust she’s cleaning out. “You’re part Elytrian, Philza?”

“Not exactly,” he laughs, pointing at the very human features on the rest of his body. “I’m not actually a hybrid. Not like Jaiden, or even like you. Those wings were a gift.”

Étoiles perks up. “From Kristin, yes?” he nails down, perceptive as ever. The rest of the flock oooohs, a little chorus of yes, of course, makes sense. “I like your wife, Phil,” the duck smiles, brushing out a crooked feather. She remembers the Goddess’s voice, soft and warm as late spring’s sunlight, pouring out of Phil’s mouth as she borrowed his body to greet them. “She’s so nice.”

“She’s awesome,” Étoiles nods, unseeing eyes reflecting invisible stars. He cannot see anymore, he’s told them, but he still fights like he can, somehow. “I see her, sometimes, when I don’t have enough sugar and I almost die. She tells me to take better care of myself, but I’m dumb and shit so it keeps happening.”

“T’es con,” Baghera chastises him, slapping the back of his head, and Philza snorts at their antics. He’s so glad Étoiles joined them, the memory of his expectant frame almost vibrating out of itself when the old crow-not-quite-a-crow approached him at Global, just the day before. The words had barely left his mouth and the warrior had dropped to his knees before him, like a worshipper before his deity made man. I am your arm, your sword, Étoiles had said to him once, long ago. Felt like long ago. Just tell me where to hit.

A wave of fond-flock-yesyes, the Angel of Death pulls Étoiles forward to shelter him within his wings. “Aaah, Philza, Phil,” Étoiles laughs as his friend pecks at his hair, crooning incessantly. “The goat, oh, he’s moving so good! So good aim!”

“No mames.”

“No maaaaames man.”

“Shut up dude,” Phil wheezes, a huge smile on his face as he runs his talons through the frenchman’s tangled, white-faded locks. Yesyes. “I’m having a moment.”

“Oh? He has a moment, okay. I fuck myself, I don’t move, I get it.”

“Oh my god, stop.”

“I want to see you fly,” Étoiles says, quieter. Almost a whisper, that has everyone tilt their head in focus. “I didn’t see you fly, that’s bullshit. It must be beautiful, to see.”

Phil flashes him a wry grin. “Maybe. They’re pretty fragile, still. I don’t want to fuck them up all over again. Pretty sure the Feds will just clip them once we get back anyway, so.”

“Fuck them!” Baghera screeches indignantly. “Not letting that happen. I kill them first.”

“It’s fine. Just gotta enjoy ‘em while I got ‘em.”

Étoiles pouts at that, mumbles something in rapid-fire French that sounds rude. Phil hums and cups his face with a low trill, talons rapping on the space between his skull and neck, feather-soft. His friend blinks, cloudy silver. “What do I look like to you?” Phil asks, feathers ruffling as he spreads his wings wide, his fellow avians shifting to avoid being smacked by them.

Étoiles smiles, all teeth and greenish gums. “Like home,” he says, and it’s such a silly yet earnest answer that Phil could kiss him into silence. Mine, his hindbrain thrums, fierce possessiveness curling around his heart, and Étoiles laughs, that airy, high-pitched wheeze of his, because he’s making bird noises again. “And he says, he says he’s no hybrid, this man?” he mocks, tackling Philza to the cold floor of their cave to wrestle him into submission. “He’s a liar! Lies! You know who you are, Felipe Minecraft! Embrace it!”

“I am- fuck, get off,” Philza growls, play? play? Swoops Étoiles’ legs from under him to pin him down and they’re both laughing, batting at each other’s faces, talons carefully curled inward to not slice at dark green skin. Baghera and Jaiden cheer them on from the sidelines, loose feathers flying here and there, a viney tail wrapping itself around his leg as they roll and swipe and snap their teeth at each other’s necks, play, play!

Étoiles loses at some point, freezes when sharp claws brush against his jugular. “Oh, he’s too good,” he smiles, tired and fond. “He’s good, and I’m shit. GGs.”

“Don’t say that,” Phil rolls his eyes, but doesn’t draw away. Étoiles’ eyes are squinted in twin crescent moons, and he doesn’t know if he wants to pluck them out to wear like jewellery or forget himself in them. “You. Are the best,” he chirps, pressing his forehead against the other man’s, flock, mine. hello. “I chose you. And I only choose the best for my family.”

“That’s us,” Baghera gasps — she and Jaiden have taken to preening each other instead, her bill ruffling through dark blue and green to dislodge specks of dried blood and sand out of her flockmate’s wings. “Bolas family, yes!”

“You picked Roier first,” the warrior whines, hands pawing at Phil’s chest, not quite pushing him away. “You like him better, no? He’s better, stronger. I don’t blame you.”

“Cellbit wanted him. I wanted to make him happy.”

“Oh, he is,” Jaiden huffs. “They’ve been snogging in the nest all evening. It’s cute and all, but I can only take so much kissing noises until I gotta vomit.”

“Hater!” her sister teases, bonking her bill against her cheek. “You’re just a little hater, let them be gay and happy.”

“They can be gay and happy and not slobber over each other.”

“I kinda like it,” Slime pipes up from his hole in the ground. Jaiden quirks an eyebrow at him. “...You need to get over Cellbit, dude.”

“Whaaaaat? You’re talkin’ nonsense. Put your mask back on, the fumes got to you.”

“Don’t you have Mariana anyway?”

“I don’t see your point.”

“Roier is Roier,” Phil cuts them off, catching Étoiles’ wrists to push them down against the stone. Mine. “You’re you. Cellbit wanted him, I wanted you. Simple.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” A croon, their noses brush together. Jaiden makes a gagging sound, which makes Baghera cackle. What am I doing? “Phil?” He blinks. His friend is looking up at him, eyes crinkled up in amusement, fang poking out from beneath his upper lip. “I’m already yours. You don’t need to go all birdbrain on me.”

“Sorry.”

“Nah. Don’t be sorry, be the GOAT that you are.” Étoiles pushes himself up, and Philza lets him. He tilts his head to the side, like he always does whenever he’s mapping out his surroundings. “Phil, Phil,” he nudges at the crow’s shoulder, vine-tail thumping against the ground in renewed vigot. “PvP check, yes? Sticks?”

“Bruh.”

“Come oooon.”

“We’re actually ahead today, let’s not die and mess it up.”

“Rhoooooo…”

#qsmp #qsmp purgatory #fanfic #codebreakers #étoiles #philza #q!étoiles #q!philza #they make me ill #something about them just makes me go *pterodactyl noises*#please étoiles log back on #we need you to bring phil into the résistance already #and they were coworkers!!!! (oh mah gawd they were coworkers)

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my-writings-and-musings · 2 years

Text

Still have brain fog, have some more indulgent Earthspark stuff. This one is Medic Agent!Reader patching up Megs after a fight, please enjoy!

The helicopter moved far too slowly for your exhausted patience, leading your foot to tap out a rapid fire rhythm of displeasure as you stewed while the pilot took his sweet time on the landing. A few frantic checks of your medical kit helped pass a few of the tortured moments more swiftly, but there was no helping your impatient anxiety. Nothing would make you feel better until you were at his side…

At long last, the hulking machine met the solid earth below, and you gave the door just enough time to open before hurtling through it.

The remains of a battlefield in what had once been an industrial facility stretched out before you, the glare of a dozen hazard lights casting shadows on the tangle of rubble and GHOST agents briefly disorienting you. Whatever fight had just gone down had been brutal and recent. The fires quite literally had not all been put out.

As soon as your head cleared your next dilemma became apparent in a fresh wave of frustration. You knew exactly who needed you most, but you hadn't a clue where to find him, and there wasn't a single officer on the ground waiting for you. This wasn't the first time you'd found your employer to be disorganized when it came to your patients…

"Dr. Y/N, over here!"

Your heart rate slowed at the sound of Lieutenant Malto's voice cutting through the chaos. If there was one other person who cared about the bots like you did, and was equally protective of even the biggest among them, it was her.

"Lieutenant Malto!" you greeted with obvious relief, speaking loudly to be heard over the din of military equipment on all sides. She didn't waste a moment of time, her hand beckoning you with a wave before she did an about face and started guiding you through the chaos.

"He's in the warehouse, it's mostly intact and the most private spot I could find." she explained, pointing to a sizable building that was notably less crowded than the others. While flattened entirely on one end, most of the structure was standing and solid, making it the best contender for an impromptu hospital.

"Is he doing alright?" you asked carefully, voice as low as could be as you walked by her side.

Lieutenant Malto made a face, and you found a little comfort in the fact she appeared more annoyed than concerned. "You know how he is. He won't give me a straight answer on how bad it is, he insists this can wait until we get back to headquarters, but there's a crater about the size of a basketball on his chest and I know he's hurting." she explained, pinching the bridge of her nose as she allowed herself a sigh of frustration. Arriving at the warped doorway flanked by two nervous looking guards, you didn't have to say a word before your medical badge and a warning look from Dorothy provided all the necessary explanations. The two of you were given immediate access through the crack in the massive sliding doors.

The noise of the outside was muffled considerably by the thick metal walls, allowing you to hear yourself think as you took in your surroundings. A few towering shelves of supplies had remained standing, but most had been toppled in the chaos, creating a web of smashed boxes and twisted metal. Lieutenant Malto led you through the mess, passing through what you could only describe as a cave of rubble before you entered a far more open space hidden away in the corner of the building. A massive figure hunkering down against the wall caught your eye even in the darkness. Scarlet optics came online as soon as the two of you entered the makeshift sanctuary, and their owner went from alert to annoyed when he recognized you both.

"Dorothy, I told you I didn't need a medic." Megatron sighed, not sounding too hurried for treatment. You didn't miss the way his hand carefully cupped the injury on his chest or how the glow of freshly spilled energon shone through his digits, but you kept that to yourself when Dorothy spoke up for you.

"Unfortunately enough for you, I have eyes." she said with her best "mom" voice, hands on her hips as she stared the big bot down. Megatron huffed and rolled his optics but didn't offer a rebuttal, his shoulders slumping from the exhaustion he was losing the ability to hide. Softening her stance, Dorothy sighed and gave him a look that was more pleading than demanding. "Now, stop being stubborn and let them help, alright?"

You smiled as the big mech conceded, his softness for his old friend matched only by how obviously displeased he was to be fussed over. Even in the low light you could see him pouting.

"I'll take it from here. Can you make sure we're not disturbed?" you asked, getting a nod from Lieutenant Malto before she fixed the big bot with a final look of warning. As intimidating as she was without needing to fire a single shot, you knew the two of you wouldn't have to worry about any unexpected visitors.

When you were alone with the big mech, you got right down to business, experienced enough to know where Ratchet would have wanted you to begin. You couldn't help wishing the far more experienced medic was with you instead of across the planet, but he had assured you and your superiors you were up to the task. Hopefully that was true...

"Lieutenant Malto mentioned a chest injury. How bad is it?"

"I'm doing quite well, actually. Don't know what all the fuss is about…" Megatron replied with a shrug and the faintest hint of a smirk, the former of which caused him visible discomfort when the injury fiercely protested the movement. Seeing pain across his face compelled you to speak more forcefully, and you briefly unshouldered your bag to start unpacking. A portable light flickered to life before casting deep shadows over your expression of concern.

"Megatron, please."

Either your concern or his promise to Dorothy got him to relent, and he removed his servo from his injury, failing to disguise his resulting wince of pain as a huff of annoyance. "Very well, here it is. Nothing I haven't endured in the past." he explained, gesturing to the hole that had been punched into the right side of his chassis.

"Help me up, if you can." you asked quickly, shouldering your portable medical kit and mounting your light to your shoulder. Despite all of his earlier resistance, he didn't hesitate to offer his servo for a lift. Your boldness actually seemed to amuse him, judging by how he was smiling in the most mischievous way whilst he lifted you to his chassis.

"Ratchet would be proud. You've learned his bedside manner as well as his methods." he teased, leaning back to give you a better view. You'd have retorted straight away, but the sight of the injury at eye level made your stomach twist. It was about the width of a basketball, as Dot had described, but deep and far from cleanly cut. How he could be so calm with such a wound was a mystery to you, but you kept that to yourself as you got back to business.

"After six months under his tutelage, I've learned he has some very valid reasons to be cranky." you replied whilst aiming your light at the injury. Under full illumination it looked even worse, and you were torn between sympathy for his pain and frustration at his delay to seek help. This was not something that could wait. You tried to make that readily apparent as you fixed him with a most displeased expression while snapping on a pair of gloves. "I'm looking at the biggest one."

"At least those tiny hands can't throw a wrench." he said with delight, smirking down at you. You knew the teasing was likely to help distract him from the pain, so you played along, working whilst keeping your rebuttals coming.

"No, but they're very good at finding all the places you're ticklish." you said whilst your fingertips carefully traced the edges of his injury. Your small size made it much easier to avoid hurting him as you did so, but you were still careful, only applying the tiniest hint of pressure to help you get a better idea as to the scope of the injury and what kind of intervention would be required. When you thankfully found no evidence of damage beyond the focal point, you turned your attention to the gaping hole in his chest. You noted with a mix of emotions that the opening was wider than your own head.

The faint hint of a glow from his spark briefly caught your eye, but the sight of a foreign piece of metal wedged in the depths of the wound was what truly got your attention. Amidst severed energon veins, a few sparking sensory wires, and the smooth workings of Cybertronian biology the darkly colored chunk of earth metal would have stood out even to the untrained eye. Your extensive training allowed you to grasp exactly how dangerous it was. Goodness, just a foot or two deeper…

"You've got a piece of shrapnel in here." you informed him, noting a touch of surprise and a fresh flash of annoyance on his face. Briefly marveling at his impossible level of pain tolerance, you tenderly traced the edges of the injury again, trying to consider your options. There were few without an actual operating room at your disposal. "I can put a seal on the wound and wait until we're back at base to remove it, but given the location I'm hesitant to leave anything in there. It's a bit too close to your spark."

Briefly mulling it over, he surprised you with a chuckle that he pretended didn't hurt before continuing his game. "Worried about me, are you?"

Despite your concern, you laughed along, realizing just how much of your frustration was in fact born from concern. It occurred to you that perhaps the game was more for your benefit than his own.

"You make it very difficult, but yes." you confirmed, looking back to the injury. Deeper concern twisted in your gut as you considered what to do next, knowing that anything near the spark was tricky business. It took a lot to keep the fear from your voice. "You can't self repair much with that in there. I have the tools to remove it-"

"Ah, go ahead and get it over with." he said, sounding displeased but not at all apprehensive. Somehow, his lack of hesitation only added to your own.

You'd assisted with plenty of extractions, bots got shrapnel embedded in their armor rather frequently, but you'd never overseen anything like this. Even if you knew what needed to be done, you were far from confident in your abilities. There were numerous risks, but worse; there was no way for you to avoid causing your friend a significant amount of pain. All of your apprehension came out in two simple words.

"It'll hurt."

He went quiet, compelling you to step back on his palm and look up to meet his optics. Megatron appeared surprised by the admission, but his gaze softened quickly, his tender smile returning as he lifted you to speak more directly.

"I can handle that, little healer." he promised, his rare use of your affectionate nickname revealing just how touched he'd been by your concern. "I trust you to pull out a splinter."

Apprehension still twisted in your gut, but you found yourself ready to face it at last, so long as you had his faith in you. "Okay, just give me a minute…"

Megatron returned you to your spot so you could work, holding you steady to ensure your accuracy. You opened your kit and went straight for the proper tools. A sizable pair of pliers and your shoulder mounted light were all you really needed, but you prepared an emergency vein cap in the unlikely event of a bleed, refusing to be caught off guard with the mech's safety on the line. The heavy tool weighed down your arm as you took a final stock of the injury. Knowing that removing the obstruction as smoothly as possible was key, you were moderately pleased to find a single pull would do the trick, provided you did it properly.

"Ready?" you asked when you ran out of reasons to delay.

Megatron tensed, his sizable frame preparing itself for a short but very unpleasant experience. You allowed the tension in his voice to steel your nerves.

"Very."

Hardly daring to breathe, you slipped your hand into the wound, grabbing hold of the warped metal and making sure the grip was ironclad. There would be no do-overs, and the slightest mistake could spell agony at best… Gathering yourself with a breath, you refused to let your fear keep him in pain a moment longer than necessary, and when a final check of your grip found it solid you knew it was time.

Megatron remained still as a single clean yank tore the shrapnel free, but you felt the agony reverberate through every inch of his frame, the raw power almost crackling as he hissed through clenched dentae. In the blink of an eye the metal went from lodged dangerously close to his spark to clenched firmly in your pliers, the sharpened edges dripping with fresh pink energon.

"I've got it! Are you okay?" you asked in a clumsy rush, dropping the tool quickly to check him for further distress. By the grace of rare fortune there wasn't a trace of trouble in the now clear injury.

"Better, actually." he sighed when the pain passed, his shoulders relaxing as the relief took its place. Spare hand testing the edges of the wound and finding it far less tender, he looked to you once again, gratitude apparent in the depths of his optics. "Ratchet would be proud."

"He'll only be proud if you survive. Let me apply a patch, and once we're back at headquarters I'll do some proper welding." you replied without missing a beat, pretending not to be dizzy from the lingering rush. Now more comfortable, Megatron had little trouble adjusting himself to receive the patch, and you pretended not to notice how his gaze had turned more affectionate than simply mindful. Covering the gaping wound with a pliable length of temporary mesh, you allowed yourself a moment to breathe a sigh of your own relief. He would be okay, that was all that really mattered.

Your hand lingered on the patch when it was finally in place, and you renewed the silent vow you'd made to yourself. Nothing would be taking him away from you, no matter how determined he may have been to be reckless, not as long as you had a say.

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