#note to self stop using text to speech
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Not Sober Ideas: the Simple ones
1. Okay so the video of the guys with nunchucks and pizza dough. Izuku is Lunch Rush’s nephew and he's inherited a food based quirks and can actually use food as weapons. He uses pizza dough like the spinning thing to deflect, loaves of bread as clubs, jams as bombs to make people stick to the ground. Just the image of Izuki dressed in a chef based hero outfit using these weapons is hilarious. I'm honestly saying Sato/Izuku would be endgame and Fatgum goes: DIBS at the sports festival.
2. Izuku whose Quirk is he knows EXACTLY where he is, and the exact path to get to anywhere. Useful, but it's a power that has him be like a GPS according to everyone. However Izuku, overhearing a couple of cops talk about a missing person suddenly knows where she is. He goes right up to them, explains his Quirk and how- then BOOM. Girl is saved, and his name ends up in the papers.
This would get attention from more unsavoury people… if the local heroes didn't go: hey this kid is gold and keep him. I mean, a lot of the more minor local heroes deal with missing persons or missing items. And the underground heroes find that just asking this kid for directions works. Izuku does charge for it (Inko caught wind and made the heroes pay). It's all fun and games and Izuku ropes in people to train him to.
Then one day a man shows up. A very muscular man wearing a hat and sunglasses. He asks after a man named All for One. Izuku tells him.
A few months later a short man comes around and asks the same thing. Izuku tells him.
For once it's not what anyone wanted to hear.
3. Izuku has the power to attract hot objects toward him BUT it's only things he himself can lift. Que a training montage of him getting stronger and stronger so he can lift things. He then gets OFA later and his power goes up drastically.
Of course it has to be hot things. So he needs a partner. Cue Todoroki who wants to fuck over his dad willingly becoming Izuku’s sidekick. His job it to make things hit enough for Izuku’s power to call it to him.
They're a great team and piss off Endeavour all the time!!!
#bnha#bnha au#not sober ideas#izuku the foodie#he loves food#happily cooking away#izuku the GPS#cause yeah that's him#surprise you didn't kill AFO#luckily they can hunt him down again#it sparks a ‘keep away’ with Izuku being in protective custody and a few actual fights#of them tossing the kid around#izuku the… I got nothing#it would be funny#todoroki is an eternal sidekick#he loves it#these are the simpler ones#just needed minor editing#but the others…#note to self stop using text to speech
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Confidence
[Price/Fem!Reader] [Gaz/Fem!Reader] [Soap/Fem!Reader] [Simon/Fem!Reader] [Poly!TF 141/Fem!Reader]
Summary: You haven't been feeling too confident lately. Your friends convince you to dress up to feel good, and you send them a picture of the end result. Except, you sent the pictures to the wrong group chat...
Word count: 6.9k (hehe)
Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI!! No use of Y/N, Thigh slapping, finger sucking, p in v, lack of protection, creampie (x2), oral (male and female receiving), face sitting, praise, pet names. Let me know if i forgot something please, I'll be happy to tag it if i did!
A/N: Reader is written As PLUS SIZE! There are mentions of fat/stretch marks/self esteem issues and the likes! This got very long I'm sorry but also I hope you enjoy!! Also, half of this is Beta'd, the other half... well, we die like men...
Your confidence had been at an all time low as of late. You weren’t sure what it was, but ever since joining Captain Price and not having your friends there to tell you just how great you looked every day, you really were down in the dumps.
Babes, I’m terribly upset
You text in your group chat with your friends. You waited for their answer. It felt like a century before someone responded.
Dear, what's wrong?
Finally, one of them had answered. You sighed and took a moment to respond.
I’ve been feeling like utter shit lately. Everyone around me is so… not built like me… I think it’s silly, but I don’t always feel beautiful.
You sent in the chat and immediately got a speech bubble.
Babe… I’m gonna tell you what helps me. Dress up all pretty. Do something to make you feel good. I promise it’ll help
You scrunched your face up.
I’ll try it. But if it doesn’t work I’m going to torment you forever
No response. You groaned and sat up. You decided it’d be best to try that. You looked through your things and found a cute underwear set and walked to your bathroom. Momentarily battling about putting on makeup, you decided to try it.
You sat in your bathroom for a good twenty minutes just doing your makeup. You then took another twenty minutes doing your hair. Everything was going to be undone, but if it was going to help you feel better, why not try it? You slipped into the cute underwear, black and lacy. You examined yourself in the mirror and smiled.
Remember, briefing tomorrow morning
-Captain Price
You remembered, and made a mental note to respond to his text a little later. You, instead of responding, began to take pictures of yourself in different positions. Once you were satisfied with some of them. You decided to throw a few into your group chat with your friends.
Validate me babes <3
You set your phone after you sent the pictures and just looked at yourself. You inhaled and placed a hand on your stomach. You pinched the fat there and sighed. Your phone went off, and then went off again. And again.
HUH?
-Gaz
oh fuck
-Soap
Wrong number?
-Ghost
You felt your heart stop. You wanted to vomit and run away and never be seen again by your teammates. Truly thinking about not responding and running away into the night, you scraped your nails through your hair. You grabbed your robe from the door and screamed into it. As loudly as possible without alerting anyone.
You grabbed your phone up and thought about being a grownup. Briefly.
WRONG GROUP CHAT
You then sent a barrage of different sad emojis and hoped the pictures would leave their minds.
There were no responses for the rest of the night. You went to bed just as you were; hair, makeup- You did put on comfortable pajamas though. You lied down and knew- just knew you would be getting an earful in the morning.
You grabbed your phone one last time and sent a group message to your girls, checking this time if it was really them.
Goodbye, I just wanted to say that. Since I will be simply passing away right now.
Immediate response.
What did you do???
I sent pictures to the wrong group chat. To the work group chat…
Your friends both, at the same time, asked what the pictures were. You sent the pictures and said nothing else. The chat erupted. Your friends were spamming you, different emojis, swears, memes. Anything. If they could send it, it was sent.
You lied on your back, looking up at the ceiling and you sighed. You were going to have to be an adult and face the men you really didn’t want to in the morning. You made that a problem for you in the future, and decided that sleep was the best option. You turned your phone off and slowly fell asleep. A pit in your stomach the whole time you waited for unconsciousness to overtake.
You woke up with the exact same pit in your stomach. You threw on your uniform and walked as fast as you could to the room you were meeting at. You wanted to miss Soap, Ghost, or Gaz. You did not want to run into them.
You opened the door to the room and realized you’d be facing Price alone. That was until you saw everyone was already in the room. You looked at your watch. You were early… If you were early, what time did they get there? You did not want to think about it…
No one would look you in the eyes. Their demeanor had changed completely. But no one mentioned the photos. You stood, uncomfortably, away from everyone. You couldn’t take in any information that Price was giving you. You were hyper aware of everyone around you; their body language…
You watched as Soap balled and unballed his fist a couple times. His knuckles white.
Gaz’s chest was rising and lowering a little quicker than usual. You could tell through the gear. His eyes were trained ahead, looking directly at Captain Price.
Speaking of Price, his eyes would look right over you. You weren’t the best at eye contact anyway, but Price was not bad at it. You knew he was trying to be professional.
Your eyes moved to Ghost and they locked onto his. You, immediately looking away, noticed him shift. His eyes didn’t falter though. He seemed to be the only one looking at you.
You shifted your weight, swallowing hard. Gulping down air like your life depended on it. The tension in the room was too much. You wanted to explode. Instead of exploding, you did (in your mind) the second worst thing. You opened your mouth, and words actually came out.
“I’m sorry!”
Everyone went quiet. Price stopped speaking and all eyes were on you. You gulped again and took a step back, distancing yourself even more. Price was the first to speak up. His brow cocked and you waited for his response. “For what?” He did sound genuinely confused, so you didn’t take it as him pretending to be stupid.
“Uh-” Your eyes scanned the room. You did the thing you were best at, word vomit. “Well, I’m sorry for sending those pictures! It was unprofessional and I didn’t check the group I was in- I was just- I meant to send it to-” You stopped yourself.
“To who?” Ghost asked, deadpan. But, you could almost see the smirk under his mask.
You, not knowing how to stop, kept going. “My friends. I wasn’t feeling good last night- Or the past couple o’ weeks really… My friends said, um, doing what I did would help me feel better! I mean, she did not tell me to send the picture in the work chat!” You put your hands up, no one stopping you from continuing. “I just wanted to feel cute… I guess…”
The room went silent. You made a face and held yourself back from stomping your foot or throwing a tantrum. You decided to be an adult, and wait for a response, one that felt like it was never coming. Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost all looked at each other before all staring at you. You pouted.
“What?”
“Do friends normally send pictures like that to each other?” Ghost cocked his head at you.
You wanted to throttle him. “Whatever. If this is done, can I leave?”
Price nodded, he knew you had retained nothing, but he didn’t say anything about it. “Free to go.”
You walked out of the room and began to walk towards your room. You felt tears prick your eyes and tried to hold yourself together, at least until you got to the comfort and loneliness of your room. You were seething. You didn’t know why, but you were mad. Mad at how they had acted, mad at how you had acted, and mad that the pictures were sent to them in the first place. You got to your room, slammed your door, and threw yourself down on your bed.
You curled up and decided it was best to skip lunch that day.
A knock came from the other side of your day and you held back the urge to tell whoever it was to go away. You threw yourself out of bed and walked towards the door. Forgetting that you had puffy eyes from crying, you opened the door. Price stood there.
“Hey, you weren’t in the mess hall-” He stopped when you wiped your eyes. “Are you crying?”
You pouted harder. Price sighed. You groaned and moved to the side, motioning for Price to come in. You did not want everyone to see you looking like a mess. Price walked in and you shut the door. You placed your back against it and looked at him.
“Are you alright?” He gave you a concerned look.
“I’m fine.” You lied. Terribly.
Price’s head dropped slightly. “You had said this morning you weren’t feeling-”
“Captain,” You sighed. “I’ll be fine. Just horribly embarrassed. It’ll go back to normal once no one looks at me differently.”
Price’s brows furrowed. “If they don’t?”
You blinked at him. Why would he say that? You felt tears forming again. “Captain-”
“I know you don’t want to hear it from me-” Price started, “And would obviously prefer it from your friends,” He smiled at you softly, and got closer to you, “but, you are stunning. You should not feel the need to be validated, but you should know you are beautiful.”
Something hit you; whether it was the eye contact, what he said, or how he said it, you weren’t sure, but whatever it was sent you into a frenzy. You, without thinking, grabbed Price’s face and kissed him. Hard. Your lips hit his and you realized what you were doing. The kiss was over as fast as it started. You threw yourself back and began to profusely apologize.
“Holy shit!” You were stunned at your actions, “That was so inappropriate, I’m so sorry.”
Price was as stunned as you. You watched him with wide eyes and he processed everything that had just happened. Nothing was being said. It was a deafening silence. Price watched you closely, his eyes dropping from your to your lips. His hands cupped your cheeks and he brought you into another kiss.
You eagerly kissed back, pressing against him. He pushed forward, your back pressing against the door. His tongue traced your bottom lip and you slowly opened your mouth for him. Your arms were wrapped around his neck and nothing was stopping either of you.
Until your stomach growled.
Price pulled away and looked down at you. “Look, you need to eat and I’m not sure we should do this-”
“I want this…” Your voice was barely audible, just loud enough for Price to hear.
“How about…” He paused, “you go eat. And think about this-”
“I’m not going to lie now, Captain Price,” You bit the inside of your lip, “I’ve been thinking about you, and the others for a while now.”
“Me and who?” He questioned you, brows knitting together.
“Um, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost… I think about you four all the time. Um, too much actually.” You stop yourself before going further. “Sorry, that's too much truth.”
Price laughs, “Okay… Go eat. Think on this. Text me when you’ve eaten.”
You nodded. “Yes sir,” You did a little salute. Price moved and let you out from your spot. You opened the door and both of you walked out of your room. You, pretending like Price did not just have his tongue in your mouth, walked off for lunch. As you were leaving, Soap walked up. He looked at Price in confusion.
“Why were ya in her room?”
Price smiled at him. “We may be doing a team bonding exercise later.”
“What does that mean?” Soap was quick to ask. Price was quick to ignore. He started to walk off, away from Soap, agitating him. “C’mon! You can’t say that and then not elaborate!”
Your mind was racing the whole time you ate. You could only focus on one damn thing; your earlier actions. And Price's words. Heat prickled across your cheeks as you ate and you made up your mind.
You wanted to do whatever it was Price had been thinking about.
You finished up your food and began to head back to your room. You just had to get a hold of Price, you had to tell him what you had thought about. But not before coming face to face with Soap.
"What happened earlier?" His brows were furrowed and his lips were turned down. "Wait, have you been crying?"
You groaned. "Fuck, it's still noticeable?" You looked back at Soap, "Where's the Captain?"
It was his turn to groan, "I'll take you to him."
You smiled widely and thanked him. He began to lead you to the barracks, the men's barracks. Your stomach flipped and you felt butterflies instantly. You kept your eyes trained ahead, on the back of Soap. Your heart was racing and your cheeks were burning.
"Did Price get to you first?" Soap turned to ask.
You blinked at him, shocked. "Huh?"
He shook his head, mumbling 'nothing' before leading you Price's door. He knocked and there was silence for a minute, before the door opened. Price's eyes fell from Soap and back to you. Price smiled and motioned for you to come in.
Soap began to leave and you grabbed his hand. "Can he come in too?" Your words caught Soap's attention. He froze and looked back at Price.
Price's smile turned into a toothy grin. "Of course."
You pulled Soap in behind you and Price shut the door. You held Soap's hand like a lifeline, a nervousness taking over that only hand holding could help. Soap didn't seem to mind. You looked at Price with a curious expression and finally asked, "What now?"
"Well, we have to lay down some ground rules, and let Soap in on what's going on."
"Please fucking do! What's going on?"
Price looked at you, for you to tell him. Your stomach turned. You swallowed hard and looked at Soap, letting go of his hand. "Um, I talked with Price this afternoon, before I ate. I told him about-" your eyes cut from Soap to Price, who gave you an encouraging nod, "-about liking the four of you. I thought about it, like you asked," you looked to Price again, "and I'm up for-"
"A team bonding exercise?" Soap asked.
You nodded. "If you wanna call it that."
Soap very much so wanted to call it that. He wanted to bond with his men over you. You were unaware- oblivious to the fact that all of them seemed to want that. But, now, the opportunity had presented itself so perfectly. Soap wanted nothing more than to launch himself at you. But he waited.
"Go get Gaz and Ghost." Price looked at Soap before his eyes hit you. Your heart fluttered and you looked at Soap, who was ready to protest.
"Why do I have to go get them? Call them!" Soap's hand snaked around your waist.
"Soap…" Price's eyes narrowed. "I'll take care of her, go get them." Price pulled you from Soap's grasp and Soap groaned. He mumbled a 'whatever' under his breath and left the room.
You watched Soap refrain from slamming the door and moved your gaze to your Captain. You bit the inside of your lip and your arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, hugging yourself.
"C'mere." Price motioned you over. Your feet were heavy and your eyes were wide. You couldn’t move. You inhaled sharply and your hands dropped to your sides. Price watched you like a hawk, “You still up or this? You can back out at any time.” You only nodded. “We’ll set ground rules as soon as Soap gets back with the boys.”
“Until then?” You asked, head cocking to the side.
“We can do whatever you want.”
You nodded again. Anxiety crept in, and even though you knew you could do what you wanted, you needed to ask. “Can I kiss you?” You whispered. Price nodded. You were on him in an instant. Your lips were on his, arms wrapped around his neck. He smiled into the kiss. This time, you traced your tongue over his bottom lip. He eagerly opened his mouth for you, and your tongue slipped in.
Price’s teeth ever so slightly bit down, gently scraping your tongue. You moaned. Price smiled again. His hands rested on your hips and he pulled you closer to him. He began to back up and he soon reached his bed. He sat down on the edge of it and you froze. Suddenly, you were aware, very much so, of him and yourself. You looked at Price, he looked up at you through his lashes.
Without saying a word, he placed his hand on his upper thigh, and patted. Everything in you screamed for you to sit down, but you were stuck standing in front of him. Price’s lips turned downward and his brows furrowed. You shifted your weight and looked at him with an apologetic expression.
“Love,” Price reached his hand out for you, “what’s wrong?”
You grabbed his hand and sighed, “I don’t wanna sit on your lap because, what if-” You stopped yourself. Price’s brows furrowed and he asked for you to continue. You refused.
“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
You threw your head back and whined, “I don’t wanna be too heavy.” You didn’t want to say it too loud. You felt silly enough already. But it was a real fear, being rejected because of your weight.
Price gave you a soft smile, “Don’t even think that way, I promise it’ll be fine.” Price motioned for you, once again, to sit on his lap. So, you did. You didn’t place all of your weight immediately, and he could tell you obviously didn’t want to. So he would coax you. You were sitting on one of his thighs, uncomfortably if you were being honest. Until Price took matters into his own hands.
Price’s heel rose from the floor, catching you off guard. Your back arched and you grabbed his shoulders. “What are you-” His foot dropped, taking all of you with it. All of your weight pressed down on his thigh now, and as soon as his foot hit the floor his hands were on your hips. You instinctively grinded into him and let out an embarrassing whimper.
The door of the room opened and you looked back, unmoving. Soap and Gaz walked into the room, and your heart jumped into your throat when Ghost walked in right behind them. He closed the door and everyone was staring at you. You wanted to hide your face but there was nowhere to hide. Your whole body was hot and you couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of their eyes on you and how good Price’s thigh felt against you. Price lifted his heel again, and before you could prepare yourself, it hit the ground. You moaned.
“What the fuck?” You grumbled.
“Sorry, love,” Price smiled, “I had to show them your reaction.” Price gripped your hip before releasing it and looking at the guys. “There are some things we need to go over before we get down to business.” Soap, Ghost, and Gaz all nodded, listening closely. “We need a safe word.”
They all looked at you. You were confused momentarily. “Uh, red? Like y’know, green, yellow and red? If I’m good I’ll tell you green, if I’m iffy I’ll tell you yellow, and red is just hard stop.”
They all nodded in agreement with you. Soap was the first to speak up, “What first?” You shrugged, feeling very shy all the sudden. Price gripped your hip before releasing it, and you looked at him for reassurance.
“You decide, darling.” Price looked back at the guys and then at you, “Who first?”
You said the first thing that came to your mind. “Gaz.” You looked back at him and watched him ball his fists, before relaxing. He smirked at you and Price stood you up. “You’re feelings aren’t hurt right?” You looked around the room.
“Bonnie,” Soap smiled at you, “we’ll all get a chance, no hard feelings.”
“You’re just saying that,” Gaz elbowed him, “You wanted to be first.” He then promptly ignored Soap’s angry stare and approached you. Price stood up from his bed and he, Ghost, and Soap watched you closely. Your body was set ablaze and you just focused on Gaz.
“Please, kiss me?” Your voice was soft, your arms behind your back. Eyes cutting through your lashes as you looked at Gaz. You did not have to ask again. He was on you instantly and his hands were cupping your face.
He backed you towards the bed and you fell down. You scooted up the bed and Gaz was on you again. This time, he was kissing your neck. Your mewls filled the room. You had no clue what to do with your hands. You were pulling at the sheets and then started to pull at Gaz’s shirt. He eagerly pulled it off.
“Let’s get you out of these clothes, yeah?” He asked, so politely, how could you deny him?
“I don’t know…” You answered. Suddenly, you couldn’t look him in the eyes. You were staring at the ceiling and playing with the cover beneath you.
“You don’t have to,” Gaz nuzzled your neck, nipping the sensitive skin. “We can work towards that.”
You nodded, “Okay,” a breathy whisper escaped you. Gaz worked wonder with his hands, he grabbed at your hips and his fingers ran up your side, just under your shirt, causing you to gasp. Goosebumps rose on your skin. With eyes shut tight, you spoke up, “You can take my shirt off.”
Gaz smiled into your neck and pushed himself up. You sat up and helped Gaz help you out of your shirt. You sat there in your bra and the cool air made you realize what you had just done. Your hands went to cover your abdomen and Gaz frowned. He placed a hand on yours but did not dare move your hands away from you.
“You’re beautiful… I-” He stopped himself, “We can show you that if we need to.”
You bit the inside of your lip, “I’m gonna be honest. I’ve never felt comfortable in these situations… Well, actually, I’ve never been in this situation, with multiple men… I never even felt comfortable with just one.”
The energy in the room shifted immediately. Before, it was just horny, then it quickly changed to something more serious. Gaz nodded, understanding. “We can stop if you get too uncomfortable. Where are you right now?”
“Green.” You grew more comfortable, even if it was just with him at that moment. You moved your hands from your stomach and placed them, palms down on the cover, beside you. Gaz gave you a soft smile and nodded. “You can continue.” You reassured him. He did just that.
You leaned back on the bed and let Gaz take over again. His hands ran up your sides and towards your bra. You arched your back and let him unclasp it. You shimmied out of it and he threw it to the side. You laid back on the mattress and looked up at Gaz, who was staring at you as if you were a gift from whatever God was listening to him when he prayed.
One of his hands moved for your chest and you gasped. His hands were warm and calloused and something about his touch was so calming. He massaged your breast and lowered himself to your neck again. Your back arched harder and your hips bucked upwards slightly, causing Gaz to groan into your neck.
You had almost forgotten other men were in the room. Almost. "Ugh" Soap groaned, "could you go any slower, Gaz?" You laughed at his remark. Genuine and loud. Gaz grumbled into your neck and pushed himself up.
"I'm going to ignore him now," Gaz looked dead at you, you were the only one in the room according to him. You smiled at him and nodded. Gaz kissed your jawline, down your throat and headed for your chest. He briefly paused at your nipples, a hand playing with one while the other got sucked on. You moaned and whined at him, the sound of the other men shuffling around the room not even detering you.
Gaz's hands moved towards your belt and you tensed. You said nothing though. But Gaz still noticed you tense. He froze and looked up at you, one of his brows cocking. "Green," you whispered, still focusing only on him. He gave a nod and made quick work of your belt. It was pulled off of you in no time. You kicked off your shoes and Gaz began to pull down your pants. You lifted your hips to make it easier, and soon enough you were just laying there in your panties.
You were nearly completely exposed to them. Your thighs, stomach, stretch marks, all of it on display. Part of you didn't care, but part of you was terrified. Gaz's fingers gently traced your stretch marks and you froze up.
"Yellow." You blurted out, without really thinking.
Gaz was off of you in an instant. "You okay, love?" Price and Gaz asked at the same time.
"Uh, sorry," You sat up, resting on your forearms, "not used to this attention. I was a little uncomfortable." They all looked at you, attentively. "We can continue."
"How would you feel…" Gaz trailed off, thinking hard, his fingers tracing patterns on your thighs again. "Sitting on my face?"
Your heart jumped into your throat. How were you going to survive? Your eyes widened and you pulled yourself up, trying to comfort yourself. "What if… what if it's too much?"
"What?" Gaz, seemingly genuinely confused, cocked his head. "What if what's too much?"
You gave him a deadpan expression as if he should know. "I don't wanna crush you with my thighs!"
"What an honorable and lovely way to go, though!" Gaz gave you a goofy grin.
You thought for a moment, "Okay, but can we do it my way?" You played with the sheets beneath you. Gaz hummed, asking what your way was. "Uh, you lay on the floor and I'll sit on your face." Your face was suddenly burning as you said the rest of your thought, "So I can I suck one of their dicks." Your words ran together and you tried to hide your face.
"Hey, no need to be shy now!" Gaz comforted you. "Anyway, I'm sure I know one of them is absolutely dying for you to suck his dick." Gaz whispered to you. You laughed, causing the others to wonder what was being said.
Gaz moved off of you and got on the floor. He laid down and patted his chin, waiting for you to get up and take a seat on his face. The others looked at you with confusion. They couldn't help but wonder what you had planned. You stood up and wondered how to not awkwardly take your panties off. You decided it didn't have to be awkward, you were with four men who were ready to throw themselves at you (well, Ghost hadn't yet…), you didn't need to feel so self conscious.
Yet, there you were, being self conscious. "Do you have to watch me while I take off my panties?"
"Well, what else are we supposed to watch, love?" Ghost adjusted himself, causing a pit to form in your stomach.
You grumbled a 'fine', and slid off your panties. You made your way to Gaz, who was more than ready to devour you. You got on your knees, one on each side of his head and looked at the other guys. Gaz placed his hands on your hips and pulled you closer down to him.
"Don't be afraid to sit all the way down." He smiled against your thigh, causing you to melt.
"Soap," You had said his name with a lust in your voice you weren't sure you were capable of. He perked up. "C'mere." You motioned for him to come over. He was on you as soon as possible.
"May I?" You grabbed up at his belt. Gaz kissed up your thigh, closing in on your pussy. Your thighs clenched around him without you meaning to and you immediately apologized.
"Fuck," Soap groaned, "You're so gorgeous…" That caused you to look back up at him through your lashes. Soap was promptly pulling his belt off for you. He unbuttoned and unzipped them so fast you were unable to process his movements.
Gaz licked a stripe up your pussy and you gasped. “Fuck…” Your voice was soft and weak. You focused back on Soap and looked up at him. Your hands moved to his waistband and you bit your bottom lip. You pulled at his underwear and you were immediately at eye level with his cock. Your hand wrapped around it and you began to softly pump it, the head already dripping precum. You slid his dick into your mouth.
Everything was going on at once. You were trying to focus on Gaz absolutely going to town on you, you were trying to focus on sucking Soap’s soul straight from his body, while also trying to focus on looking okay for Ghost and Price. Which, in all honesty, you didn’t need to try to do that at all. In their minds you were already perfect.
Soap’s cock hit the back of your throat and you gagged. You couldn't help it. Soap's hands tangled in your hair and he held you steady, which you were thankful for. Gaz was putting his mouth to good use and you needed all the help you could get. If you weren't so concerned with Gaz and Soap you would have heard Ghost and Price groaning and grunting on the other side of the room.
You looked up at Soap, tears pricking your eyes, and he pulled your hair, guiding you up and down his cock. "Good girl," he grunted, causing you to have a reaction.
Gaz was going to town under you. His tongue lapping you up as quickly as possible. His hands gripped your hips tight, holding you down while his fingers dug into the skin. You lost it. You settled completely on Gaz's face and moaned onto Soap's cock. Gaz's nose rubbed against your clit and you were sent over the edge immediately. You gripped Soap's outer thigh and tried your best to keep going as your first orgasm hit you. Soap saw you struggling and pulled away, leaving you a mess.
"Kyle!" You moaned out. Gaz did not slow. In fact, you saying his name only caused him to go harder. Your hands hit the floor and your nails dug into the wood. You started to grind onto Gaz's face, a whining and whimpering mess. No words were forming. At least not properly. "Please- Fuck, I-"
Gaz slowed and his grip loosened on you. You pushed yourself up, or tried, Gaz helped you move off his mouth and you were left sitting on your knees, hunched over and reeling.
"Holy shit."
"You still good?" Ghost asked from across the room. You nodded. "Wonderful, because we're just getting started."
You looked up and noticed Ghost was still in uniform. He had obviously been masturbating, but he was fully clothed. Price however, was not. He stood naked, his hand pumping away at his cock. You wanted him. He caught your glance and immediately stopped jacking off. You sat up straight but your eyes cut away from him.
"Mind if I join, dear?" He smirked at you. Words were still not forming. You motioned for him to walk over and made his way towards you. He easily pulled you up and walked you over to the bed. He set you down and you took a moment to catch your breath. You looked up at Price, and sighed.
"I forgot to mention," you finally formed a sentence, "I'm on birth control." Price smiled at this. It was your way of saying 'Please rawdog me right now' and he understood instantly. He lowered himself to your level, lips pressing to your ear.
"Wanna be on top?" Price whispered, chills running up your spine.
"I don't know…"
"Whatever you want to do is fine, love, but I'd love to watch you ride my cock-"
"Okay." You are hooked instantly. His tone, his accent? He did not have to repeat himself. Before you knew it, he was laying on the bed and you were positioned over him. You grabbed his cock and started to gently rub up and down it, before lowering yourself onto him. You whimpered, Price steadying you. He watched you closely.
“Good girl, that’s it,” He grunted. His hands rested on your thighs. You were still so sensitive. You had a feeling you were going to be sensitive for the rest of the day.
“Captain…” You moaned out, not entirely sure where it came from. But it did something to Price. His hips bucked up immediately. You gasped. You were bouncing up and down, slowly at first. Your hands rested on Price’s chest to steady yourself, your legs still wobbly from the earlier interaction with Gaz.
The sound of skin slapping skin echoed through the room. Your whimpers and all of their groans and grunts filled the barracks, most likely. Your pace picked up and Price slapped his hand against your thigh, the smack ringing in your ears. The sting only turned you on more. “Fuck,” Price’s teeth were gritted, “love, you’re taking me so well.”
Your eyes shut tight and your mouth fell agape. One of your hands grabbed his, the one that rested on your thigh, and you were coming undone again. “John-” You stuttered out his name, “John, I’m gonna-”
Your movements slowed, but Price kept bucking his hips, causing your second orgasm to hit faster than you thought. A string of curses left your lips and your eyes rolled in the back of your head. Your stomach was in knots as you clenched around Price.
“Love, I’m-” He was so close… “Where?”
“Inside.” It was so clear and coherent. Price did not argue.
His hips bucked up a couple more times and suddenly he was cumming as well. You leaned down and your whole body tensed. The feeling of his cum spilling out and rolling down your thighs was all you could think about. Price pushed himself up and kissed you, catching you off guard. You were kissing until one of the guys stopped groaning and spoke up.
“My turn.”
You pulled away from Price and looked over your shoulder. Ghost. You blinked at him a few times and Price moved you off of him. He stood up and let Ghost approach you. Ghost looked at Soap and motioned for him to get behind you on the bed.
“This okay?” Soap asked.
“Yeah-” You started. Ghost clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Oh. Green.”
“Atta girl,” The tone in Ghost’s voice caught you off guard. You looked up at him with wide eyes. “Sorry, love,” He began to pull his pants down, “but I’m not letting you on top. And the mask isn’t coming off.”
You nodded. Soap was behind you holding you. You began to wonder if Soap and Ghost had done something like this before… You, however, did not wonder for long. Ghost was on you quick, his mask pulled up slightly to kiss you. His hand was placed under your chin, keeping you in place. He pulled away from you and looked down at you, his eyes locking with yours.
Ghost’s fingers slipped down to your dripping pussy and he slid two fingers into you. He kept eye contact with you as he fingered you. You shut your eyes as he hit a spot you had never had someone reach with just their fingers and he clicked his tongue again.
“Look at me.” Ghost’s voice was gruff. Your eyes snapped back open and your chest heaved. “Good girl.” You were stuck trying to form a sentence again, and the word Ghost slid from your lips, but nothing else was intelligible. “Simon,” He leaned down to your ear, “You can call me Simon.”
You were sent into a frenzy. Your hips bucked up and as he dragged his fingers out of you, your hips tried to follow. You were putty in his hands. You were a blubbering mess once again. Another orgasm hit and you cried out for Simon. Your eyes screwed shut and you gripped onto Soap, who was still right behind you.
Simon pulled his fingers from you and slid them into your open mouth. “Suck.” He demanded. You looked at him through half shut eyes and shut your mouth, sucking on his fingers. Simon smiled under his mask, you could see him smirking under it as you eagerly sucked his fingers. He removed them from your mouth with a ‘pop’ and you watched him, waiting for his next move. Waiting to see what was next.
Simon grabbed your chin and made sure you stayed looking at him. “I’m going to fuck you, is that alright?” You nodded and he continued, “Soap is going to be here for moral support.” He patted your thigh. Soap’s hands rested on your hips, and as Simon said that, he gripped you tighter and placed a kiss on your shoulder.
‘Fuck,’ You thought, reeling from everything going on, ‘I’m going to need fucking support?’ You prepared yourself for what was to come. Simon told you to position yourself, and Soap, seeming to know the drill, helped you while Simon took his clothes off. Simon was completely naked except for his mask, and you were staring. Staring, and staring. Your head was resting on Soap’s stomach, and Soap was leaning back against the headboard of the bed. Simon crawled onto the bed and leaned over you, angling himself at your entrance. His eyes cut to Soap and moved back to you.
“Green,” You were eager for him to continue. So he did. Simon’s hips thrusted into yours, his pace slow and steady. Your legs were quick to wrap around his waist and Soap rubbed your shoulders. He whispered how good you were, how amazing you had been, and how hot you looked taking Simon’s cock.
Your cries grew louder, and you begged and pleaded for Simon to go faster. Simon grunted as he did so. His pace picked up and you were being plowed into within seconds of asking. Your head rocked back and you looked at Soap.
“Johnny-” You whined, tears pricked your eyes, “Fuck-” You reached up for Soap, who was hard again, you could feel it, and you touched his face. Soap mumbled some swears but was quick to encourage you some more. “I can’t- Uhn-” Your legs tightened around Simon’s waist and you cried for him. His name ripped from your lips and you said it over and over. Moaning for more. Simon did not stop.
“You can-” Your words caught in your throat, “You can cum inside-”
Simon wasn’t far off from you. You were laying there, whining and mewling as he continued to wreck you. His thrusts began to pick up speed once more, until he finally came as well. His hips slowed slightly, and he placed his face in your neck. He moaned out your name and your stomach flipped.
Soap placed and a kiss on your forehead. “We can take a break if you need to?” You couldn’t answer. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Simon pulled out of you and you lied there in Soap’s arms for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. “Come on,” Price walked over to the bed, “Let’s get cleaned up.”
You didn’t move. Your legs felt wobbly and your brain was foggy. Your eyes cut over towards Price and you saw Gaz grow concerned. “You good?” He asked. You finally processed his words and gave a lazy thumbs up. This elicited a laugh from Simon.
After a couple minutes and Soap trying to get up, you stopped him. Your hand grabbed his bicep, “Wait,” Your voice was slightly hoarse from all the noises you had been making, “is this-” You froze momentarily, “Is this a one time thing?”
You could see them all look at each other and then back at you. They all started talking at the same time, “No!” “Of course not!” and “Do you want it to be?”
You sighed in contentment , “I think I could go for the occasional team bonding… If you guys are up for it of course!”
“Absolutely,” Simon leaned over you, “Now we really need to get this mess cleaned up.”
You smiled, agreeing, and let them help you. You had felt more confident than before, and while you knew you didn’t need to rely on others to make you feel that way, you hoped that whatever happened could continue.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#john soap mactavish#captain john price#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod x reader#cod smut#john price#gaz smut#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader#soap smut#soap cod#ghost smut#simon riley smut#john price smut#task force 141
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[ 11:30pm ]
you’re his favorite, though it doesn't feel like it sometimes
word count | 1.5k+
noteworthy mentions | gn!reader; gojo x reader; jujustu-college!au; unimportant but the reader cursed-technique uses tattoos;
blue-eyed freak
you still mad at me :)
As soon as you open your messages you regret it. Of course you’re still mad — leaving you to handle the after mission briefings was one thing you’re used to, but getting ditching to find a way home alone on the count that he wanted to go limited souvenir shopping in Puerto Rico is a step too far.
The speech bubbles appear almost as soon as you open the message, like he knows you’ve seen it and you don’t doubt the possibility. You turn your phone off and toss it to the side, choosing to finish your course work rather than give him the satisfaction of knowing you’ve seen it.
Still, your phone vibrates once then after an hour it goes off again. This is normal for Satoru really — a triple text then radio silence until he’s had enough of the silent treatment. Then he comes barreling through your dorm room as if it was his own. You’d thought about reporting him before or at least asking for a change in partnership, but he would most likely find a way to prevent that from going through. As your senior he can get away with it — that and the higher-ups just about bend over backwards for him.
His radio silence lasts about another two hours just as the moon reaches her summit for the night, then three curt knocks echo through your dorm room.
Gojo never knocks.
He might tap his fingers along the door to his new favorite song of the day, yell at you to open up or he’ll break it down again, he may come in through the window at times or somehow get Geto to use a curse to unlock your door for him like a mad man…
But he never knocks.
You stand, work nearly finished but long forgotten and head to the door. You don’t feel an over abundance of cursed energy nor do you hear the tell tale giggling of a prank getting set up just outside when you place your ear against the cool steel. Confused, you finally look through the peephole and see nothing. You open the door, casting your gaze down the hall to be met with common silence.
You almost believe you were ding-dong-ditched by the man you wanted to avoid, until a note falls off your door and at your feet. COME TO THE ROOF, it reads with no signature; although you recognize the handwriting as if it were your own. You wish you had the self control to ignore it — to ignore him, but you don't. Geto likes to say that it's what makes you both so perfect for each other no matter how much you tell him to shut it. Even when you throw his remark over your shoulder it still clings to you like a shadow.
Like now, pushing open the emergency exit doors to the roof of your building. The Autumn night weather picks at your clothed skin as soon as you walk outside and the stars seem to mock you as they flicker amongst themselves within the sky. You stuff your hands in your pockets for warmth.
Scanning the rooftop for your daily tormenter, you are met with the nights silence. You walk around the roof egress to see if he was hiding. The rooftop isn’t that spacious, so if he was here he would’ve been in eyeshot. He isn't.
The only gullible idiot you find on the roof is the one in your own reflections. You shuffle to the gate surrounding the top of the building. Looking down, you can see the faint glow of dragonflies dancing within the shrubs and flowers. Butterflies follow suit jumping from one flower to the next. The cicadas join together in a sad symphony, giving weight to your sudden walk of shame. At least something is enjoying the night.
What were you hoping for anyway?
A sigh bubbles out of you before you can stop it. Anything really.
A sudden pulse of cursed energy hits your senses with a force. Quickly, turn on your heels. Has the bearer been breached again? Your hand pulls up your sleeve, ready to conjure a shikigami from your skin but stops short.
Gojo sits atop the gate opposite to you. He kicks his feet about like a child, smirk pulling at his lips with your jumpy behavior. The feeling of that overbearing has gone just as soon as it came. That prick.
"Didn't think you'd show." He speaks first jumping from the top of the fence. You give no reply in return. Instead, you lean against the gate head turned away from him to eye the distant buildings. Even if you did come all this way to see him, he still isn't forgiven.
Gojo chuckles to himself, "Still mad."
He sighs, faint clouds of breath leave his parted lips at your continued silence. The subtle annoyance brings a sense of joy that you hide away.
He strides to you, the sounds of his shoes hitting the asphalt overbearing all other sounds of night. In the moment you think of all the things he would say when he gets to you …
( 'Come on, it was a one time thing I swear!' or 'Ijichi was in the area anyway.' maybe even a 'As a Grade One that was light-work, I knew you would have made it back no sweat.' )
… or what he’ll do.
( You had made the mistake of voicing your complaints about Gojo to Geto once, thinking it would be all in good fun. And remain confidential. That same day you found yourself ascended high above Japan, clinging desperately to the cause of your afflictions. Gojo called it an apology — showing you the sites of the city. You still believe it as a threat. )
With the jujutsu world’s biggest enigma you can never guess what he’ll do in any given circumstance. That being said, you fain indifference as he stands in-front of you in all his ‘Special Grade’ glory. Tall and lengthy and powerful. He’s in a class of his own in every department and it’s infuriating to always have to look up at him — in both status and everyday life.
An anomaly both in and out of work. He toys with curses one day then snaps them in half before you can blink the next. Choosing to toy with you for days like your back in grade school, then leave you notes to come see him at night in private. He’s made it his mission to keep you guessing.
He still doesn't give you a chance to think about his next moves even now. Not when he throws himself on you like a limp sake of potatoes. You reach to grab him without a second thought. Your arms wrap and his waist to stabilize him, and his wrap around your shoulders in a hug. He buries his face into the point where your neck meets your shoulders and breathes in deep. You have to fight the urge to shiver. Not because of what he did but because you're touching him. And he's warm.
“I’m sorry.”
Oh.
Your shoulders stiffen and he laughs into your neck with the action.
Gojo Satoru never apologizes. He is the highest point of Jujustu Society; the personification of cursed energy itself since the last incarnation of the six eyes. He was raised as a god, the top of the society; you had thought apologizing was beneath him.
"It's fine." You say, unsure of just what you are supposed to say. It apparently isn't that. Gojo pulls off of you with a deep frown.
"It's not fine."
"What I did wasn't cool, and I'd rather the last time we saw each other not be with you hating my guts."
The last time we saw each other?
What does he mean by that? Your mouth opens but he beats you with the answer.
"The higher ups have assigned Geto and I on a mission, but this one is different. One even I don't think we’ll come back unscathed. So, I just wanted to—"
"Wait! Why are you telling me all this Satoru? I don’t understand?" It is weird to see him this open with you, especially with all that has led you to come up here in the first place. The thought of him being sick or faintly under the influence rocks through your mind. Gojo is honestly awestruck with your confused face.
"You really haven't noticed, huh? Guess I do owe Shoko that five."
He pulls off his glasses, placing six eyes all on you.
"It's 'cause you're my favorite and I don't know how far I'd be without you here."
His gaze is piercing, blue eyes just as bright as the full moon tonight. You had no idea what to say before but now you're really stunned. Here is Gojo Satoru laying down his emotions to you on a cold Autumn night. It’s strange; there is a feeling festering in you that you’ve never felt before with him. Is this genuine concern, hope or something else. Whatever it is you can’t tell but for that moment you believed that heartfelt look in his eyes…
Until he starts laughing. He lets a grand puff of air before he tries to hide his giggles poorly, “Sorry, sorry.”
You shove him away from you with an eye roll, but he still shows you a toothy grin.
"You really know how to ruin a moment, ya'know that?"
"Yeah, I do. But you still love me for it."
#he makes me so violent#and yet i wrote out this mess :/#quick piece in between the request so i do not burn myself out#jujutsu kaisen x male reader#jujustu kaisen x reader#jujustu kaisen x gender neutral reader#gojo x reader#[ gem’s timestamps — ⌚️]
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trying stop me brain ruminate & damage already severely disabled self health more:
block tumblr user @ / isopodcloset
[plain text: block tumblr user @ / isopodcloset ]
TL;DR: isopodcloset as someone who not nonverbal nonspeaking, speak over nonverbal autistics about things that impact nonverbal semiverbal people. when be point out cite poorly done survey as source & reason why survey poorly done, hide all people disagree from reblog & refuse acknowledge—effectively silence nonverbal people & continue spread misinformation with poorly done survey.
isopodcloset not seem want conversation or willing listen or think do wrong.
please do not direct engage w isopodcloset, do not harrass. at best, gentle correct people who reblog post who seem misled. but, best way help nonverbal people & people impacted here is reblog this spread this & block isopodcloset.
detailed what happened (under cut w source):
1. isopodcloset made this misinfo post “types of autistic speech” (linked; remember link version is edited, can see original version in reblog chain link below).
2. two nonverbal autistic people (gwydion & me) point out misinformation (both our thing can be see here linked)
3. isopodcloset respond, said add disclaimer to some but also continue speak over & not correct one misinformation by cite survey that poorly done (so cannot trust conclusion)
4. gwydion & me correct separately about how that survey poorly done. gwydion response link here. mine link here, which bullet point/numbered point out all reason why that survey should not be give platform—please read if can.
5. isopodcloset not direct respond to us since, but have hid all reblog of people who spoke against. right now, notes only full of people who agree & people who mislead by isopodcloset misinfo. poorly done survey link still up and can be reblog.
this create more labor for nonverbal people who have to correct more people misinfo, possibly mean even harassment in future.
reminder disabled people (include nonverbal people) allow be angry. some nonverbal and/or higher support needs autistic people cannot control cannot mask emotion & anger & tone. nonverbal people especially not have be all polite & cute & soft when people who not nonverbal speak over us, spread misinfo that impact us, and silence us on purpose when we point out wrong.
in case isopodcloset delete, saved my chain through wayback machine (not sure gwydion okay w me save his so did not).
#blocklist#actually autistic#actuallyautistic#nonspeaking#nonverbal#tagging nonspeaking & nonverbal & semiverbal because they community impacted sorry not trying spam#semiverbal#lose speech#tay don’t look#tay dont look#loaf screm
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The studious type (a Miguel O'hara fanfic, 18+, MDNI)
Summary: Boyfriend Miguel helping you relax during your finals week.
Tags: F/M, afab reader, College AU, established relationship, smut, oral sex (F. receiving), Miguel being a munch (because I can), use of condoms, masturbation, thigh riding, PIV penetration, fluff, soft Miguel O’hara, a bit of dirty talk, aftercare
Note: Finals are not the only thing coming… Very self-indulgent. My first time trying this format, hope you like it.
I am too tired and I don’t have much time, so please, accept this blurb instead of a real story ToT
============================================
Saying that you are anxious for your upcoming finals is an understatement. You keep on pulling all-nighter after all-nighter, taking micro nap sometimes, eating only instant noodles… Finals are really taking a toll on your physical and mental health. And it shows. You also start to get tired and more susceptible.
This doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend, Miguel. Not only does he notice all of this but he also tries to help you as much as he can.
He also has to think about his own finals but that doesn’t stop him from texting you every day, making sure you’re eating enough, taking some naps and just to check on you in general. He is not really prone to public displays of affection or such things but he cares. And his way to show it is by his actions, as small as they may seem.
The two of you also had shared study session. It didn’t matter that you had different classes and majors. You would just keep helping each other, exchanging glances from time to time… And each time Miguel would feel you close to falling asleep, he would either tell you to rest or wake you up with a gentle nudge, depending on the time of the day.
Always brings your favorite snacks to make sure you have eaten at least one thing.
He doesn’t say it but you really amaze him. You’re always motivated, determined to do your best no matter what. One would even call you a perfectionist but that doesn’t bother him. He is really supportive of you in everything you make. You got a presentation? He’ll gladly listen to you as if he was your future audience. You could be talking about something he knows nothing about and he would still be 100% invested in your speech, asking questions afterward… You want to write a phd thesis? He got your back. You want to spend more time than it’s necessary on a paper because the topic matters to you? He will proofread you.
Needless to say, you gladly do the same for him. In fact he likes when you ask questions about what he is working on. And it’s actually endearing to see him geek out about things like dark energy, quantum physics and other things that would usually bore you to death.
After every study session, he walks with you to your bus/ subway station. You usually don’t talk much since you are both tired. Sometimes he would take your hand and slips his fingers between yours without saying anything about it.
Always texts you to make sure you did get back home safely.
You can be sure that the last day of your exam (or a few days after if his finals end later), the two of you will have one of your usual date nights.
Depending on how tired he is, he would either cook something or order take out. If he cooks something, you always make sure to bring something of your own. Even if he tells you that you don’t have to, he always ends up eating what you bring because he is a sweet tooth.
You’re usually too tired after finals to do anything else than just sitting on his couch, watching a movie the two of you probably already watched a hundred of times but that doesn’t matter. There’s something comfortable in what’s predictable.
And every part of this evening is predictable. From you falling asleep while the two of you cuddle to him gently playing with your hair in order to keep you awake. If it’s cold outside, you are wrapped under a warm blanket that covers each of your limbs. His hand that holds your waist slowly drifts to your thigh and draws lazy shape over it. He is not even thinking about it; it has become a habit of his.
Just like the way you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck while wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Was it the most comfortable position? Not. Did you care? Also no.
The night would usually end with Miguel having to carry you to bed since you passed out on the couch.
NSFW content ahead
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But sometimes the night would take an unexpected turn. All these days and even weeks spent studying had left the two of you filled with pent-up sexual frustration. And no alone time was the same as the intimacy you guys wanted.
You’re sitting on Miguel’s lap in front of the TV, but none of you are really paying attention to the movie at this point of the night.
He is too distracted by the scent of your hair since your head is so close to his face. His fingers playing with the locks of your hair are not enough for him. He has reached this part of the night where he wants more. He kisses the top of your head in an attempt to test the waters, see if you’re in the same mood.
He would make it look like it’s nothing, or an accident but the two of you know each other too well. After the third kiss, you understand what he has in mind. And you’ve been thinking the same thing all night long, if not longer. These last weeks have been nothing but frustration and you’re more than ready to give in.
You lean further into his embrace, clearly indicating your will to go further. You do this in a nonchalant way, as if it was nothing but he noticed the way your thighs brush against his and how you rest more of your weight near his crotch region.
The hand that was on your lower back supporting you slowly snakes up along your spine until it rests on the back of your neck. His free hand drifts toward your thigh to draw lazy shapes over it. But this time he is deliberately thinking about the moves he makes. His fingertips brush over you as if it was an accident once again, it’s barely a flicker.
The back of his fingers drag along the curve of your thigh, running over your skin until he reaches your knees. He repeats this movement over and over before gripping your thighs more intently. His fingers dig into your flesh, making you feel very aware of his presence behind you. He would usually use his thumb to draw small circles on your inner thigh, eliciting a trail of goosebumps all along.
While the two of you played this little game, you never look at each other. On your side, you still pretend that nothing’s happening, keeping your eyes on the TV but still pushing yourself more against him. He can feel your chest presses against his, your hair brushing his chin and at some point, you’re practically just sitting on his groin.
As the evening goes on, Miguel’s hands get bolder with his actions. He squeezes your thigh from time to time before eventually bringing it under your shirt, avoiding the spot you want him on on purpose. His warm touch on your stomach makes you squirm on top of him. The way your hips shift doesn’t help with his growing erection and his hand on your neck keep you in place, holding you in a careful but firm way.
Without saying a word, his fingertips dance their way over the curve of your belly. He makes sure to trace over the folds of your skin, of every roll on your tummy, to just explore and take in the softness of your belly. He can’t wait for the moment his face will make contact with it. Your skin is too smooth to resist it in his opinion.
You’re a blushing mess at this point and you don’t dare looking at what his hands are doing on you. Your breath gets a little more shallow with every stroke of his on your stomach. He leans closer and brings his face to the crook of your neck, nibbling your skin while making fun of you for not being attentive to the movie playing in the background. When he sees how flustered your are, he decides to act upon it.
“Got something else on your mind?”
You just nod your head and tighten your grip on his shoulder. But he has other plans for you. The hand behind your neck now grabs your waist and makes you sit still over his bulge. Your eyes are on the TV and your mind is on Miguel’s body.
His fingertips brush over your crotch, making you squirm more. Your butt rubs against his crotch and he can’t hide a smile this time. His fingertips barely tap over your crotch before his middle finger rubs over your slit. He then rubs two of his fingers over your groin, pushing his fingers against the fabric of your pants, rubbing his fingers in circle… When he gets too frustrated by the fabric covering you, he asks you if he can just take it off.
“Wanna feel you closer, muñeca...” That’s what he would usually whisper into your ear before kissing your earlobe. You can feel his warm breath, his voice almost shaking with desire as he toys with your zipper. A nod of you and your pants are pulled down your thighs. He doesn’t wait for you to remove them fully or even take off your underwear. His eager finger keeps rubbing you over the fabric of your panties until a damp spot appears in the front.
You lost the count of time as the minutes pass. You’re making a mess of yourself, rubbing yourself on him and when he finally pulls down your underwear and his hand cups your sex, the two of you let out a low moan. His fingers find their way through your bush and he rubs your labia, waiting for you to let him know when you’re ready to take him.
You bite down your lower lip and completely leans back against his body. He wraps his arm around you, holding you tightly and making sure you’re comfortable. Miguel then kisses your cheek. He rubs his nose against your skin, kisses your jawline before nuzzling his face in the crook of your nick, kissing and lapping at your skin.
The movie has already come to an end and in the silence of the room, your moans and Miguel’s heavy breath are the only thing that can be heard. His hooked fingers stimulate your clitoris and when you get comfortable enough, he starts thrusting them in and out of you, almost scissoring you.
He then brings his attention to your clitoris, rubbing it in slow motions. He can feel it throbbing under his fingertips and that makes him moan against the skin of your neck. His warm breath raises all the small hair on your nape and you’re getting hot and bothered. His words aren’t helping either.
“I’ll be damned if I don’t taste you before the end of the night. Been craving this pussy of yours for day now...”
When he catches you trying to relieve yourself of all the tension, he whispers “What are you doing?” There’s no anger in his voice, just pure astonishment. “You know you could just ask…”
The mischief in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed by you. He likes seeing you this needy and you can feel it. Your body writes on top of him and your shoulders slouch down when you whisper his name. You know what he wants to hear and you finally surrender when the teasing gets too overwhelming. “Please, Miguel…”
Your needy voice gets him to smile again. He leaves an affectionate kiss on the back of your neck before pulling his fingers out. He wouldn’t mind having his way with you here and there but he has more self-control than that. He gently kisses your shoulder before lifting your body up.
He usually carries you to the bedroom, helping you lay down the bed while the two of you undress. When your clothes are discarded on the floor and he is busy looking for the box of condoms in his nightstand, you take a good look at him. You watch his figure being drawn by the shadows in the room and your gaze lingers on his back. From his shoulders to the small of his back, your eyes trail down his spine. You smile when you see his back dimples and he catches you staring.
With a cheeky grin on his face, he gets back on the bed. You’re expecting a kiss but his lips land on your stomach. His face rests against your skin while he kisses you all over the smooth surface of your belly. Maybe it’s the scent of your lotion. Maybe it’s the way he can feel your breath catching up. Maybe it’s how close he is to your arousal and can literally smell it… he doesn’t know exactly what makes him love him love this moment but he never gets tired of kissing you there.
Of course he has to taste you after that. Each of his kisses send an electrifying feeling to your body and you can feel yourself growing more aroused. When he starts eating you out, you wrap your legs around his head and this feeling immediately gets stronger.
One of his hand holds your thigh while the other keeps teasing you. His fingers keep thrusting in and out of you while his tongue focuses on your clitoris, sucking and licking. When he feels you close, he keeps his pace steady, focused on only one thing. You. Your thighs quivering around his face, your hands holding his hair, your soft moans… He has waited too long for that and when you finally relax and release all the pressure inside you, he growls against your lips.
He quickly wipes your juice off his chin and gets up. His body towers over you, watching the aftermath of what he did to you. His thumb rubs over your sticky thighs and with his free hand, he brings his cock closer to you. You can see the red and swollen head of his member rubbing against your clit while a few moans escape his throat. He throws his head backward, his shoulders quivering as he feels himself growing more impatient.
He is still careful when he penetrates you, using a tad of lube to make this easier. And the fun part is that he gets to tease you more while rubbing it over your entrance. You wait patiently, at least you try, with your hands gripping the sheets while he gets you prepped up.
Everything feels worth it as soon as you feel him moving inside of you. He keeps his pace gentle, making the moment last as longs as possible. You’ve both been waiting too long for this for it to end too soon. Your limbs are entangled over the sheets and he melds into you. You brush away a few strands of hair from his face and he leans his cheek into your palm. His lips place a few kisses on your hand and even your wrist.
You both make sure to never break eye contact, reading on the other one’s face his emotions. He can see from your red cheeks and parted lips that you enjoy this moment. With one hand on your cheek, he leans closer and kisses the tip of your nose before whispering sweet nothings to you. It could be about how he likes your scent, your eyes, or even how good you feel wrapped around him…
Your hands travel down his back that you were admiring earlier and grabs his butt cheeks firmly when he starts to fasten his pace. You keep guiding him with not only your expressions but also your words. When he gets closer to his release, his shoulders lock tightly and you can feel every muscle on his body flex.
He is not really vocal in this moment and usually a few groans let you know that he reached his climax. However he likes hearing your small whimpers while your body writhes and arch under him. He watches you reaching your orgasm with a content smile before kissing your forehead, telling you how good you were.
The two of you stay in bed a few minutes after this moment. He doesn’t usually pull out immediately after, letting you feel him inside of your walls as his member gets back to its usual size. Even after that, you’re still locked together in a tight hug. He knows he will have to let you go at some point but for now he just wants to keep you inside his arms as long as he can.
The aftercare can vary depending on your mood. If the two of you are in a good mood or still feeling playful, you keep exchanging a few kisses. Miguel’s fingers keep running over the curves of your body, especially your stomach and your thighs. On your side, you like letting your fingers run down his spine until you reach the small of his back. Your fingers then brush against his skin in slow circles. He both loves and hates when you do that. You know he is very sensitive down there and he can’t hold back a few moans.
Some days he would help you get into your pajamas while kissing your shoulders and the back of your neck. You don’t speak that much these days but the silence is not awkward. It’s rather comforting. His fingers run down your hair and he can’t help but take in the scent of your curls. He watches you detangle your hair after a long day of work. This has easily become one of his favorite rituals of yours. When you’re done, his fingers run smoothly down your hair and he watches you in awe braid it, helping you when you ask for it. You can be sure that as soon as your nape is exposed, he will kiss it gently.
It usually doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall asleep after this. His arms are wrapped tightly around you, even though he knows you will probably move too much during your sleep for it to be really useful. But he doesn’t care and you nestle yourself against him.
==========================================
Note: This was supposed to be really short but I got carried away ToT
Thansk for reading.
#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#spiderverse#spiderman 2099#across the spiderverse#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara smut#fanfic#atsv#miguel o'hara au
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tmagp thoughts (this will be pure nonsense I just need to write it down)
alice is so tim coded
obviously there's a connection anyone can make to the multiple statements abt urban exploration/spelunking in tma and the redcanary forum thread.... it invites the horrors (connection to danny?)
gwen is a ✨️bouchard✨️ (implication that while its a parallel universe the same ppl still exist? supports possibility of spelunking forum thread connecting to danny somehow (not actually super sold on that but seen a lot of ppl mention it so))
colin is definitely going to succumb to the horrors :/ (either first to die OR..... this universes version of an avatar?)
CHESTER AND NORRIS!!!
I'm of the firm opinion that they're jmart BUT! but but but! I do believe they're echoes of who they were, this just so happens to be Somewhere Else.
also! yes I understand that we most likely will Not get any tma characters in any meaningful way in tmagp, however I also believe that alex and jonny couldve very easily.... not...... voiced the text to speeches....... like yeah I dont think we're getting jmart as we knew them but..... come on
also also. the text to speeches got less robot sounding the longer they were reading and it really reminded me of how ppl reading statements would slowly get invested as they were reading and emote as if it were happening to them.
sam is on the archivist (or tmagp equivalent) pipeline already yikes
the turpentine line was raw as fuck. so was the canary one obviously. don't want to beat a dead horse by talking abt that bc so many others have already said it. but! the institute is deadly stay away!!
the sound engineering is god tier I love all the bleeps and bloops
colin knows smth is Watching. inadvertently feeding the eye by being paranoid? does the eye even exist the same way it did in tma?
theres definitely smth to be said abt whether or not robert smirke did his thing the way he did in tma and if anyone in the know uses the same classification or if the oiar is the only group categorizing. the fears always kind of blurred together at certain points so maybe without the human interpretation of it being 14 distinct entities it's more of an..... amalgam?
magnus institute is in a different place which is interesting. if it was built for the same reasons (outside of just research) is there another panopticon esque structure underneath? (brings us back to if smirke was doing his thing)
very curious to see if theres gonna be a leitner books equivalent.
I deeply deeply deeply desire a michaela salesa cameo at some point. he's one of my fav side characters.
sam and gwen using classic horror characters to help him try and memorize the classification categories was very cute
another thing I'm sure everyone has talked abt already but the whole world wide WEB thing and possible jmart in the computers and omg they're in the web and the oiar is part of the web and blah blah blah u get the image.
lena is intriguing to me. my guess is she's going to be a gertrude esque character who knows at least the basics of what's really happening and is trying to put a stop to it.
I havent seen anyone talk abt like...... what IS the magnus protocol. like tma was the archives in the magnus institute. the magnus archives. self explanatory from like ep 1. what the hell is the magnus protocol. is it smth fr3-d1 will run? or the text to speeches? is it tmagp's version of a ritual? using protocol to reference the updated tech from tma? is it smth the actual organization has to run in the event of Something Happening? WHAT THE PROTOCOL WHATS IT FORRRRR
I know nothing abt the ARG shit, just to note that
okay I think that's it for now..... feel free to discuss in the notes lol
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Can’t help it 💐
Character: San and fen reader
Tags : fluff .fluff .and more fluff
San can’t help it …. He wasn’t like this ! He was the type to do everything on his own pace but end up stressing out over the little time he has, he used to do everything on his own walking home ,eating ,getting ready , cleaning ….ect
But once’s he meets y/n everything changed. San became a different man
It was when San went to library to do some paperwork a habit he gained after he tried it once with one of their manger’s it was easier to bland in everyone minded their business studying reading working, and so did he ! He went in got his work done and went out that was until he saw her ….she was just sitting down flipping through the pages of the huge medical book taking notes sometimes bring her laptop out to write an essay she was beautiful he never seen such gorgeous eyes her outfits adding more to her beauty,he started getting closer and closer to her table sitting in different places each time so she wouldn’t notice San wasn’t the type to just go up and talk to someone specially a girl let alone a gorgeous one so one time after she cought him staring and giggling a little before she waved smiling that’s all it took for him to put his big boy pants on (after a whole speech from ateez members encouraging him to just do it ) he went up to you the next day and asked if you could go on a date after you’re done in a cafe right next to the library and you said yes (which left him absolutely flabbergasted) and you guys hit it off after that
And that’s when the “I can’t help it fever “as hongjoong calls it starts
He started taking care of him self more working harder he started walking home slowly knowing that once he reached home he would find everything ready and you waiting for him on the sofa watching some show and eating gummy bears
He couldn’t help the smile that would cross his face when you text him ,he couldn’t help looking at his phone every Second in case you texted him ,he couldn’t help stopping every last day of the week by the gift shop near your shared apartment to get you flowers and chocolates ,he couldn’t help they way he played with the matching ring you got him as he told mingi how wonderful you are for the 17th time that day, he couldn’t help coming home and immediately going to you to hug and kiss you ,and so much more , some people say he was obsessed they way he treated you was so sweet, even atiny said that they never seen San so exited to talk about someone like he was about you
San couldn’t help it , when he walked into the jewelry store and bought the most beautiful expensive engagement ring as he said “ only the best for the love of my life “ he couldn’t help it when he started sobbing in your arms as very one he every loved watched after you said yes after he propose to you on the beach at sunset
San couldn’t help
༺♡ Falling in love with you ♡༻
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Chuuya has Chronic Pain Headcannons
Disclaimer: I do not have chronic pain but I do have HSD (possibly h-eds but that's undiagnosed) which causes me an amount of daily pain, it's just not severe. I have no idea what it is like for people with severe chronic pain so please, correct me if something is inaccurate or harmful.
Chuuya started to have chronic pain after the second time he used corruption. At first, he didn't think the two were related, the pain was very mild and it was only really noticeable when he had been sitting too long or was in a really cold environment. But, after years of repeatedly destroying his body and almost dying, it caught up with him
He doesn't tell anyone but Dazai being Dazai notices very quickly and corners Chuuya into telling him what's going on.
Chuuya gives a very relaxed, downplayed answer but of course, that answer wasn't good enough for his partner.
He has a pretty rough time accepting that he's chronically ill and that he needs to rely on others sometimes.
He is not aware of his limits at all. He really struggles with the concept of 'taking a break' 'self care' and 'just stopping for once omg'. Eventually, he figures out that if he wants to not be in a constant flare he actually has to take care of himself
He drinks to cope. He already was a heavy drinker but this didn't help.
Very few people know about his pain, it is something that can be exploited by the enemy after all. But the people that do know (Kouyou, Akutagawa, Dazai) are generally pretty supportive and know what he wants and needs during a flare up. They also don't make a huge fuss which is deeply appreciated.
Under his black fancy gloves he wears compression gloves.
Typing is a bitch. His fingers and wrists are the first place he feels pain when he is about to enter a flare so it makes all those fine motor tasks difficult.
on the bright side, he can force his paperwork onto Dazai as revenge for making him do all his paperwork when he first joined the Mafia.
Akutagawa is a very unlikely friend when Chuuya is first accepting his chronic pain diagnosis. Aku has been through the whole rodeo with his lung disease so they bond over how isolating the experience can be. They both check in on each other whenever the other is struggling and know exactly what the other needs/wants.
It takes Chuuya a long time to learn how to take care of his body. He loves to refuse help because he doesn't want to be "weak". Eventually, he starts allowing himself to do small things like sitting in the shower or mentioning when he is in a lot of pain. It's a slow progression but progress nonetheless.
He picks up reading as a hobby on his bad pain days
He started a blog where he reviews movies, TV shows and books that he reads during flare ups called 'Chuuya Screams' because he uses speech to text to write most of his posts. He gets very frustrated with bad writing very easily.
Hi! I don't normally get a lot of notes so I'm hoping this won't be an issue but this is a reminder to everyone who may want to reblog. Please do not use the 'Chronic illness' 'chronic pain' or 'disability' tags or anything similar. Those tags are for disabled people to find each other, not for fan works. please be mindful. thank you!
#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bsd chuuya#chuuya headcanons#chuuya nakahara#bungou stray dogs chuuya#bsd headcanons#bungo stray dogs headcanons#disabled headcanon#chronic illness headcannon#writing helps me cope and process things especially when I make their problems bigger than mine so I can imagine and work through it#this is so incredibly self indulgent
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Okay so I may have gone overboard………
But also I love these guys and cannot be stopped!! Theres a lot going on, so close-ups and transcripts under the cut :]
You know the drill by now, reblogs help me likes do not, and I’ll love you forever if you put tags on the rb <3
Drew most of these while watching the Oni trilogy, and a bit during s11/s12 if that means anything. Three notes about the piece before we get to the transcript/description:
1. I recently encountered the Lloyd-with-prosthetic-arm headcanon and had to draw it!
2. The way Kai is animated in the oni trilogy makes it look like he’s chewing the inside of his cheek whenever he’s thinking. Which is beyond charming, hence, the guy!
3. I think I need to say that none of this is intended to be ship art, however I have no qualms with you if you wish to interpret it that way!
Okay so, now that that’s out of the way, Transcript for my writing below:
Image 1, top left corner, is a note in blue that just says “note to self: use blue for water, not gray <3”. There is also a note to the top right corner of the image that has a cartoon figure saying “woag!” And the exclamation “ZAP!” By a lightning bolt.
Image 2, top right corner, has a memo in black and highlighted in orange, that says “*windows startup noise*” with an arrow pointing to a doodle of Kai. There is also a few colored pencil swatches with names below that same doodle.
Image 3, bottom left corner, has no text except for color names next to colored pencil swatches.
Image 4, bottom right corner, has a text bubble in red, pointing to a doodle of Cole who is holding a mug with difficult-to-read text. The bubble conveys that “His mug says ‘don’t talk to me until I’ve eaten this entire mug’”. There is also a doodle of Lloyd to the right, who looks sheepish and is saying (in light green) “thanks for the upgrade!” The response, in teal which indicates it is Nya speaking, comes in two speech bubbles. The top says “no problem!” The bottom says “just, please, stop wrecking them…”
#I’m so scared tumblrs not gonna post this and imma have wasted all this time formatting and writing this#anyways I’ll work on the expressions asks tmrw#cause it’s like 9pm and I have to get up early tomorrow and have soo much to do still#frick#actual tags:#remy rambles#remy doodles#art#my art#ninjago#Lego ninjago#ninjago fanart#ohmygod I forgot to mention that I found my own art while going through that tag it was so weird#jay walker#nya jiang#Nya smith#Kai Jiang#Kai smith#cole brookstone#when will my typos return from the war…. why does cole autocorrect to come#I meant coke#anyways#Zane julien#lloyd garmadon#jay ninjago#Nya ninjago#kai ninjago#cole ninjago#zane ninjago#lloyd ninjago
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The first blighting tree is small and sickly, born far from the depths of the Maguuma Jungle, long before the Dragon wakes.
After all, it doesn’t need to be big. Not for what it was made for. Not empowered now as far to the south, The Glory of Tyria knocks Zhaitan from its perch and the dragon’s magic sinks into the bones of the planet itself.
Caithe makes a mistake, you see, in not burning the body of her fallen sister. She couldn’t have known what would happen next.
---
Wynne dies, and for almost twenty years, her soul remained in the Domain of the Lost-- taking the form of the Grove, choked out of life and magic by Mordrem vines. It's not a pleasant place, and she's not in a place where she can pull herself out of it, like the Commander will.
Instead, Mordremoth tears her out-- fracturing her identity as he does (the name Wynne no longer fitting comfortably) -- to watch him destroy the world. She's no longer connected to the Dream. Her siblings think her dead.
(The Dragon, knowing that she told Caithe the truth, deals one last blow-- and takes from her her voice, so that she can never do that again.)
It's by luck that she finds a Priory squad in the Silverwastes. It's by persistence that she makes her way up the ranks, still hoping to find a way to stop Mordremoth.
She can't. And when the Call happens, she knows that there's no way she can keep her own mind. The Dragon has its claws in her still.
Magister Hestia (self-named after a post-Searing Ascalonian Saint who took up the fire magic that destroyed her people to learn to protect them) locks herself in a High Security vault in the depths of the Priory, so that when she turns-- she cant harm anyone else.
(A good thing too -- if she hadn't, the Commander would have found an unfathomably powerful Mordrem Wyvern guarding Trahearne (guarding her brother-- her first friend.))
...And then the Dragon dies. It takes her ages to regain herself, and longer to start to return to humanoid form. Her co-workers are sympathetic, though they don't know the details of who she was. It's hard for them to help.
It ends up being a Lightbringer that helps her-- a Norn named Sigyn with remnants of Jormag's corruption scarring her face that comes to her. She understands, after all, what being corrupted does to you. What others see when they look at you and see that.
She's there when it becomes clear that not all of the surviving Mordrem will be accepted back into the Grove. That they can't go home. (That Hestia will never be able to go home.)
--
[CLICK]
[TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: PROJECTOR SHOWS A MORDREM WOMAN SITTING IN A CHAIR. SHE TAPS THE TABLE IDLY WITH CLAWED FINGERS, NOT LOOKING AT THE CAMERA. DESCRIPTION MATCHES WITH THE RECORDS OF THE DECEASED FIRSTBORN WYNNE, NOW MAGISTER HESTIA ]
[THE MAGISTER CLICKS A BUTTON, AND A TEXT-TO-SPEECH RECORDING PLAYS]
HESTIA:
It started with an idea.
I never gave any thought to what I would do after Mordremoth fell. I never thought we’d win. But we’re here, and I can’t go home. My connection to the Dream is gone. The world thinks I’m dead. The dragon’s corruption remains part of me.
And I’m not the only one. The remnants of the Pact and the up and coming Dragon’s Watch have already turned to look at Primordus and Jormag. We unfortunate many have been left in the lurch. Dragon corruption has never had an After. There’s no support for us here.
The Exalted, inspired by Glint’s compassion, have been a blessing. They’ve kept watch over the Auric Basin for centuries. They’ve offered us a place to set up base camp. They call it 'Gilded Hollow'. Taffi thinks it’s perfect–though any chance she has to study magic in new places is perfect. Lightbringer Frostseer agrees with me though. This place, this haven– if we can make a home for those who have been displaced and exiled–
I’m not a historian. I don’t know what I am. But helping people, recording their stories– maybe I can figure out what to do next.
[TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE: THE MAGISTER PAUSES HERE, STARING AT THE RECORDER BEFORE CLICKING OFF THE TEXT-TO SPEECH.]
[CLICK. RECORDING ENDS]
(Later, she will lead Defiant Heart, the guild that protects the settlement of Gilded Hollow, becoming a champion of Aurene and a world renown blacksmith. It'll take time and therapy to get there first.)
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Writeblr Positivity Tag
was tagged by both @chromehoplite and @hangfiretales and haven't really had Brain to write so fingers crossed this helps get the juices flowing again xD Under a cut cuz I kinda went off with the answers xD
1. What motivates you to write?
Rereading my favorite stories, certain movies- I forget what Tolkien called it, but just the urge to create after seeing something beautiful that someone else has created. Also telling stories as a sort of release for the feelings/vibes/sentiments that I just don't have space to experience in my every day life.
2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)
From one of Megan’s stories I’m starting to rework so it’s one cohesive thing and not a tumblr RP thread xD
The truth… Megan laced her fingers and leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs. Her hazel eyes stared without focus into the distance. How much of the truth to tell him, at least at this moment.
3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?
Guardian Megan Samuels. Both she and her order were created for/in the Doctor Who universe, but I'm tweaking some of the concepts for a potential OW. Writing her adventures got me through a really horrible period of my life.
Megan is the embodiment of one of my favorite tropes, "character is done with x but x isn't done with them (because they're good at it)." She was plucked from her life and remolded into a warrior, yet despite being hundreds of years old and seeing untold horros (time war) she hasn't succumbed to cynicism.
She's kind and self sacrificing almost to the point of martyrdom, very protective of the ones she cares about, "you said pick my battles, I'm picking all of them", the hardened exterior of a warrior hiding the fragile, broken, vulnerable, and somehow still kind and optimistic person underneath.
Fuck I miss writing her. Might be time to dust off her old stories...
4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?
The semi stressful feeling when the ideas and plot are forming faster than your fingers can type- and when the flow stops, going back and tweaking the whole ass story or scene that just popped into existence like Athena did to Zeus xD just watching the story unfold before you, sometimes in ways you didn't think it would
5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)
How I write action, specifically fights. Pacing it and varying the language so it's engaging but also realistic within the world of the story, and also the thoughts and feelings of the characters while they're fighting.
Also how I can almost always find the right/specific words to describe the vaguest of vibes and feelings, so that the ephemeral mess in my head is understandable (prob cuz I had to do that a lot to get people in my life to understand how I was experiencing the world)
6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?
Both the commiseration about how writing is wonderful and awful at the same time, and seeing normally eloquent writers have incoherent unhinged conversations about their blorbos xD
7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)
Sticky notes and a notebook. I have post-its in the back of my writing notebook with all my ideas/prompts so that if I want to write something but don't know what, I can pick one. also specifically those notebooks with folders in them, they're the unsung heros of writers who just accumulate scrap paper with notes and ideas and want to keep them with their writing notebook (aka me) xD
8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)
In the Doctor Who universe that Megan was originally created for, the Order of Guardians is formed of soldiers of different species from all over the universe, kind of like the Green Lantern corps but for Time Lords. Each Guardian is assigned a Time Lord to protect, how they go about that is their business (Megan is basically glued to the Doctor's hip, she gotta be xD), but their first loyalty is to Gallifrey. They are all enhanced to live as long as Time Lords but don't regenerate, they go through extensive training and schooling, are the elite fighting force of Gallifrey. Megan was the first human Guardian.
I'm working on tweaking this whole concept for a potential OW, we'll see how it goes xD
9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?
Write what you want to write, no matter what it is. Go to your sources of motivation, whatever makes you want to get lost in the magic of storytelling. and remember, it's okay to step away for a bit and come back to it in a few days or weeks or however long- give your brain the space to rest.
10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters.
Both Chrome and Ama who are already tagged (such amazing writers and so supportive of my multi chap that I've been working on for 3 ish years now) but also @griever-bit-my-finger @honeybeezgobzzzzz @7-wonders @just-french-me-up @just-some-random-blogger @roguelov @cuckoo-on-a-string @peachesofteal @undiscovered-horizon @just-some-random-blogger All of these folks have multiple works that I've read multiple times, and I enjoy them just as much every reread as I did the first time (No pressure to do the questions just my undying love)
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5. XXI.1
The fork is the symbol of rebirth. We always make a point of having a fork on the table, right next to the front door. The front door is an emblem of birth, not just of the body but of the social self: it is the first gateway to a world apart from the world of childhood.
One can never be certain that one will return from the world outside. One can only be certain of the passage to it. And the first passage, from childhood to adult life, from the mother to the world at large, is the road through the front door. The door, a token of that passage, is more than just an emblem: it is a sanctifying ritual object. Not just the front door, but all the doors, in the rooms where the door is an ordinary thing, the arbitrary junction of wall and floor. The everyday door, trivial thing, an appendage of wood or metal, a tunnel with a handle. So ordinary, so familiar. Yet so sacred. And because of this, so unspeakable.
We see them at once. Glimpsing the world from the other side. Someone without a memory. Someone unburdened by the goddess. Someone entirely unprepared for her corpse. The debris, the litter, the entropy, all of it; the body, so well concealed in the perfection of the garment. The precise dimensions, the sharpness of the zipper. The small shining mesh holes of the netting. The rational planes of the face. The orchestration of hands and feet, erect posture, the low, fluid glide. The goddess has vanished. The body has fallen. The body is the body. The world is a gash, a tangle of wire and cloth and wires entangled in cloth. Three hundred milliliters of water.
We take them in. The spatial arrangement. The newcomer at the table. The first fork, on the first plate, in the first course. The raw egg, the scrambled egg, the overcooked egg. It is scrambled with olive oil, for flavor. The raw egg is uncooked and uncracked; the scrambled egg is stiff and smooth, the texture of muscle. But it is also an oil. The oil is porous, and it does not vanish.
As with all things, it is oil on eggs. The jug of water. The jug with its handle. And its mouth. The cone. The cone of silence. The egg. The egg made of oil, the hole made of egg, that is the mouth. Three hundred milliliters. The milliliter of pure essence. The three hundred.
The person standing at the front door, her ears flattened, her jaw slack. A person whose mouth is a flute. A flute inside her. And all around her, what is not a person, but a pack of notes. Some more clear than others. The notes undulating, pushing and pulling. Heaving and thrusting. Singing. Singing without meaning. Singing in the childish tongue. Singing no words. Singing wordless song. What does the singing mean? What does it mean to sing no words? What is the meaning of the sound?
The sound. The current passes through us. A powerful wave, a stream of notes, a torrent, a surging, a hot bath, a yawning, a swelling, a boiling, a flame. An overheating engine, a breaking rainstorm, the boil of a geyser, a welling, an undulating, an urging, a surge, a river, a precipice, an overflowing, a flood. A bit of noise. A blast. A music, a sound.
We hear them. Sound. Noises, words, texts, symbols. The babbling of the world. The flood of the world. Two thousand voices speaking, ten thousand minds thinking, one hundred thousand mouths moving, a billion eyes staring, a trillion hands grasping, more digits than there are grains of sand in all the beaches of the world. The voice of the world, the speech of the world. A roar that never stops.
Murmur, babble, hum, roar, rumble.
We hear it all. The loud and the quiet. The explosion, the rumble, the hum, the burst, the crackle, the subsonic, the loud, the quiet, the thunder. The pinpricks, the needles, the moving, the dipping, the undulating, the purr, the mumble, the scream, the nothing, the single drumbeat, the perfect tune, the cascade, the liquid, the waves, the stuttering, the sinking, the waterfall, the raging, the ringing, the babbling, the moan, the hoot, the sing, the croak, the cooing, the chant, the bay, the call, the whisper, the sigh, the shout, the cackle, the laughter, the yelp, the loud.
Leonora, love, it's terribly loud, this thing you have been doing.
We hear the voices of the world. A world teeming with voices. A world made of voices. A world so huge that the voice of the world becomes a single, simple voice. A torrent of voices, a single voice. The voice of the world is, at once, a billion voices, and is a single voice.
We hear all the voices, all at once, without distinction. The loud, and the quiet. The bright and the dark. The black and the white, the loud and the soft, the drone and the shriek, the roar and the twang, the underwater and the screaming, the flowers, the flowers, the flowers, their lips, the noise, the crickets, the myriad, the murmur, the nocturnal, the meditative, the noiseless, the dog, the tiger, the quail, the ant, the male, the female. The noises of the world, all at once, without distinction.
At once, all of them. The men, and the women, and the fields, and the sky. The sounds of all things. All at once. The voice of the world.
Darkness. Someone draws a blanket over it. Washes it away. Rips it off again. Rips it off, and it sticks to their hands. Blood, dried blood, blood in her hair, blood in her eyes, her scalp, her nose. The blood is her crown, her hair a black halo. The eyes, her eyes, are unfocused, nearly lost in their own darkness, but the blood can be seen in the whites.
The blood is viscous, forming a sac on her right eyelid. There is no trace of the wound. It is not visible. The torrent still falls over the scalp. The razor, the sharp, the glint, the whetstone, the blade, the pain, the gash, the pain, the cut. The warmth. The horror. The blade. The blood.
She cannot stop crying. A drip, a trickle, blood on her lip. She rubs her face. Pulls out a tissue and wipes away the streaks.
The blood has formed a sac. A translucent white film over the eye. The eye is cracked, or closed, or it is something else. Like an egg. The egg. The face is the egg. The mouth is the egg. The world is the egg. The red pulp of the blood is its yolk. The chalazion, the glucose, the egg white, the sugar, the yolk. The egg. The bud, the place of birth, the cradle, the nut, the yolk, the raw egg, the scrambled egg, the raw egg and the egg white, the yolk. The blood is an egg. The face is an egg. The death is an egg. The men are the eggs. The women are the eggs. The faces are eggs. The world is an egg. The eyes are eggs. All of them.
For once, the lips are closed. The head is tilted. A bandit's mask, a pirate, a privateer. A bandit's robe, made of gold, weighing ten thousand pounds. Clothed in white silk, and robbed of gold. A bandit, a pirate, a thief. A sharp blade with a hilt. Something other than a dagger, but only slightly. A weapon, a knife. Dagger, blade, a glinting shard of metal. Tipped with a thorn. A something, a sign, a symbol, a death. A bandit's robe, a pirate's cloak, a little bit of gold. The real thing. Cloth, clothing, a dagger, a sword, a ring, a crown, a clothing, a shirt, a mask, a mask of gold, a gold mask, a mask of flesh, a mask with a knife, a weapon, a blade, a knife, a dagger, two glasses of wine, a bandit's robe, a pirate's shirt. A pirate's robe,
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Writeblr Q&A
I have been tagged by @scifimagpie (ty for tag) so I shall attempt to answer these questions lezzgo
1. What motivates you to write?
The soup brain has too many thoughts & I have to get them out. Also spite because my asshole 8th grade English teacher said my writing assignment was only worth a C (he was the ONLY one btw I got consistently vv high grades before him) & my Chinese immigrant friend got marked down for not being good at English. Fuck you Mr English teacher
2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)
(idk have this one from early chapter 2 I guess)
“You mean to say that I was bait,” Talin said.
“Not the word I would use, but in a way, yes,” Red Wolf confessed.
“Why?”
“You have been on the throne for less than a year. If someone wants you dead this quickly, something is amiss. I’d like to find out what.”
3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?
My boy Red Wolf. He's just...yes. Autistic werewolf puppy. Could definitely kill me without hesitation or talk me to death with weapons knowledge. I would thank him if he punched me.
4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?
I like not writing.
5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)
Worldbuilding, no doubt. I am simultaneously the best and worst at worldbuilding. You want a 2000-word essay on how languages & regional dialects evolved over time? I gotchu covered no problem. Want me to stop elaborating on how Hellhound magic is linked to the moon & actually write my sequels? Absolutely not.
6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?
I think the writeblr community is chill. Like y'all are just here for a good time and I can 100% respect that & get behind it. I get to write unhinged answers to these questions & not feel bad about it bc I don't have to self-impose ridiculous societal concepts such as 'maintain a professional image on social media'.
7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)
Scrivener? Am I allowed to say Scrivener even though I use at most like 2% of their features. I am the kind of person who if given nothing but a notes app & a two-hour uni class to sit through will hammer out a full chapter in those two hours instead of paying any attention to class. On the other hand if you want me to actually write during my free time I'm sorry I'm too busy procrastinating writing with art & procrastinating art with gaming.
8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)
This is not a wise question to ask me (see: question 5) unless the goal was to make me sit here for ten minutes typing out an entire essay's worth of worldbuilding word vomit, in which case well played. However for the sake of my own free time & sanity:
The legal system in Kies Tor is probably the single greatest thing I've ever constructed & it plays a crucial part in the plot & was built off the early British/European court system as well as my own special interests in law & criminology. In short it's trying its best but it's also deeply fucked up and I love making the fucked up parts fuck up my characters.
9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?
Don't feel pressured to write. If you're staring at the same thing for weeks/months on end of course it's gonna get stale. Heck this Q&A post is the most I've written in weeks.
10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters:
@witch-king-of-angstmar ofc (no pressure to answer tho) but other than that I never know who to tag. I have social anxiety what is an interacting. If you see this on your dash consider yourself tagged
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Virgin Mary.
Queen of Heaven, Empress of Hell
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Yes, the Mother of God, more familiar to modern audiences as the serene woman gazing at the Infant Jesus, was portrayed as the powerful Queen of Heaven and Empress of Hell in many later medieval devotional sources from Northern Europe. Miracle stories and manuscript illuminations show how quickly Christians believed the prospect of eternal damnation could be transformed into the hope of redemption through Mary’s swift and direct intercession with Satan and sinners alike.These concepts of Mary’s identity did not replace traditional depictions of her as steadfastly obedient to God’s will, which also proliferated in the period. Instead, they were all part of a larger religious culture that viewed Mary’s agency—her capacity to act of her own accord—as significant and complex.
Mary’s power and impact on Christian spirituality reached its apex in the later Middle Ages, roughly 1100-1500, with an outpouring of Marian devotion in the form of religious texts, images, and music, as well as shrines erected in her honor. But Christians had been asking Mary to serve as protector and intercessor long before this period, as seen with the third century prayer Sub Tuum Praedisium: “We fly to Thy protection, O Holy Mother of God; Do not despise our petitions in our necessities, but deliver us always from all dangers, O Glorious and Blessed Virgin. Amen.
Mary’s intercession always included two components: the initial petition for her aid followed by her intercession with God or her son Jesus on behalf of the petitioner. Yet even as Christ was typically depicted as willing to hear and acquiesce to Mary’s petitions, the miracle stories that emerged in the later Middle Ages increasingly depicted Christians who were more comfortable praying to Mary instead of Christ. Authors in this period composed devotional sources about Mary’s intercession that played with the conventional hierarchy of Christ’s sovereignty over Mary, leaving the son to take a somewhat-secondary role.
One of the earliest and largest Marian miracle collections, Miracles of the Blessed Virgin Mary, was written in 1135 by an English Benedictine monk named William of Malmesbury. In it, the author observes that in some cases, supplicants ignored Christ entirely and directly sought intercession from Mary: “By her power, she can, thanks to her power over her son, wrest from Him whatever she pleases by a sweet violence. By her clemency, she pities the pitiable; she is so distinguished for it that she positively glories in being known as the Mother of Mercy.” Mary’s mediating role was so powerful, it seems, that some viewed her intercessory abilities as separate from Christ’s power.
This passage suggests that Mary was uniquely positioned to override Christ and wield power over him; her authority enabled her to determine how to intercede on behalf of her supplicants. William does not view this apparent role-reversal as a slight to Christ, but rather a testament to Mary’s distinctive ability to offer mercy to Christians.
Despite these depictions of her mercy, Mary did not always respond with loving compassion, even in stories within the same collection. William of Malmesbury also notes that Mary, “being happy to check offenders with a word and to mitigate the gravest offences by mere speech, was heard to say: ‘Enough, stop crying! When you return to yourself, you will show if you love me. Speed of conversion will be proof of love; punishment will attend the insolence of scorn.’”
Supplicants not only feared the punishments that awaited them, but even recoiled from Mary’s chastising voice. In rebuking one errant Christian, the same source notes, “her voice was harsh, and she was to all appearances far removed from her normal merciful self.” In reprimanding his behavior, Mary admonishes him: “You must be made to understand quite clearly how great an insult you are guilty of.” Mary’s condemnations underscored the severity of the sinner’s actions and inspired a change in behavior. These contrasting depictions, especially within the same miracle collections, helped create a complicated portrait of a powerful intercessor who was simultaneously merciful and demanding.
In this same period, Christians increasingly turned to Mary in their consideration of the afterlife. Throughout Northwestern Europe, including areas in France and Germany where religious orders were devoted to Mary, visionary literature, poems, miracle stories and other narrative accounts all sought to describe heaven and hell.These sources depict Christians seeking Mary’s intercession to help them evade damnation in hell and ascend to heaven, and a Blessed Virgin who wielded considerable power to save sinners from damnation—before their deaths and after.
Medieval devotional sources saw a direct connection between Mary’s roles as Queen of Heaven and Empress of Hell, ascribing to her the power to influence both the highest heights and lowest depths of the afterlife. John Mirk’s fourteenth-century Festial, a collection of Middle English sermons, includes a passage where Mary herself described her double roles as she sought to save a Christian possessed by the devil: “I am God’s mother, and I pray that my son gets this soul a place in heaven. I am also empress of hell, and have power over all you enemies; and therefore I command you that he [the devil] keep this soul no longer. But go your way and let him [the soul] rest.”
Source ofinformation:
https://contingentmagazine.org/2020/04/25/empress-of-hell/#easy-footnote-bottom-17-55999
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Solaris reviews Mrs. Perivale and the Blue Fire Crystal, by Dash Hoffman (2017)
Oh hey, my first time doing a review of a book in a post where I haven't posted excerpts from it first! In that case, let's start off with a bit of a summary, shall we?
Summary: You know that tumblr post that says that you'd expect more prophecies to focus on old ladies, and someone said they'd love to read a book about a little old lady saving the world with her cats and a devoted orderly? Well, Dash Hoffman turned that post into a book. Mrs Perivale is an elderly widow who goes to the land of Corevé with her seven cats and her butler to save the world. On the way, the cats start talking, she meets a dragon and a small race called the Inklings, and she discovers she always had the power to make a difference, even when she felt like her age might prevent that.
Content: It's not bad, but not stellar. The plot is a fairly standard portal fantasy fetch quest, with really very little work needing to be done by any of the characters, where they face only very simple obstacles. There were no great mysteries, shocking twists, or deep struggles. Don't take that to be very negative, though: I think the book achieved what it set out to do fairly well.
Who I think would like it: Honestly, this book was quite light, and so theoretically would appeal to a wide audience. Young teens or young adults would probably like it best. This book would be nice if you want something you can easily pick up and put down as needed. If I was still in school and was trying to fit in some reading around exam season, this would be something I'd turn to.
Things it does well: I did like Corevé, as well as Chippa Mari. Mrs Perivale was nice, too. The worldbuilding was simple, but the places they visited were imaginative and nice. I found the book a very light read, so I was able to turn my brain off and enjoy it with a cup of tea. I liked the description of Chippa, a very small creature only about a foot tall - there was a charming sentence early on where it's said he "spoke in a tender voice not much bigger than he was", and the way his speech was written was very distinct, making it immediately clear he was speaking without having to look for dialogue tags. There's also a good segment where the characters have to deal head-on with their insecurities and weaknesses, which I thought was handled well.
Things that could be improved: To be perfectly honest, I wasn't much a fan of the talking cats, because at that point they stopped sounding or acting like cats, but after a chapter I adjusted to it and was able to proceed just fine with the rest of the book.
This book was self-published, and it shows. Much of the prose could use tightening up, and Hoffman's grammar needs a fair bit of work. Sentences were easily comprehensible, but there are references to "wooded forests", the author confused "claw" with "foot" a few times (resulting in the rather bizarre sentence "[the dragon] had three forward toes and one rear toe on each claw"), every semi-colon should have been a comma (save for two that were used correctly), dialogue and accompanying tags were punctuated incorrectly (dialogue in quotation marks should generally not end with a period, and the ensuing tag should not start with a capital letter), and there was a chapter towards the end that had a lot of scene and perspective changes with no accompanying text break to clearly mark them. Note to aspiring authors: you always need an editor. Your friend reading over your work is not a substitute for a proper editor, even if your friend got really good marks in English class in high school. If you think you don't need an editor, you definitely need an editor.
Generally, though, the grammar isn't a big enough issue. If it sounds like your type of story, go ahead!
My review: Going in, I expected this book to be a lot more humorous than it actually was. Instead, it set out to tell a more sincere story of realising your self-worth and how you can contribute regardless of your age - old or young. I found the story a bit simple, but as I said, that did contribute towards making the book a fairly light read. This is a very safe book, with very little content likely to trigger anyone, which makes it good bedtime reading and good for younger audiences as well. I found this to be, quite honestly, a fairly middle-of-the-road book: not amazing, not terrible; my life isn't hugely improved by having read it, but nor did I feel like I wasted my time on it. I'm glad I read it once, and I think other people would enjoy it as well.
Does this book have…: ✅= yes ❓= not sure ⭕= possibly/mixed ❌= no
Romance? ❌
Sex? ❌
Racism? ❓ ⭕ One of the cats, Tao, is a Siamese who falls into a few mild Wise Asian Mentor stereotypes. She's regularly described as "meditative", and speaks in a philosophical way that's highly reminiscent of how a white person would try and write a wise East Asian person. Her ideal paradise is a Zen garden where she can meditate in peace. It's more stereotypical and overdone than anything else, and given how bad The Great Zoo of China was (review here) I might be reading too much into it. Note that I'm white. An East Asian reader might feel differently about Tao's portrayal, and may consider it more or less racist than I. This was my impression of it, but do not take this as authoritative.
Sexism? ❌
LGBTQIA-phobia? ❌
Ableism? ❌ I would actually argue the book goes a bit too far in the opposite direction - Mrs Perivale is seventy-three, but moves as spryly as a woman fifty years her junior, and apparently has no issues with her hearing or sight. Some references are made to her taking medication, but she goes without them for perhaps a day or more with no ill effects, nor does she have any issues after walking for days on end across rough terrain. Having her struggle a bit more would have added to the immersion and helped her arc feel more satisfying when it concluded.
Swearing? ❌
Drug/Alcohol references? ❌ There are a couple references to Mrs Perivale's "medications", but no mention as to what the medications actually are, and her taking them gets only a passing reference when it happens.
References to or actual violence or suicide? ❌
References to or actual animal death or cruelty? ✅ There's one animal death and some injury in the book, and references to fantasy creatures being killed and cruelly captured. For the most part, these are quite minor.
Recommended: Yes
#solaris reviews books sometimes#mrs perivale and the blue fire crystal by dash hoffman#book reviews
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I really love it when I bring up genuine concerns about my mental health to my mother, and it's taken me literal MONTHS to work up the courage to do this, and say;
"oh hey mom, I'm really fucking struggling with [insert symptoms] and I've talked to some people who experience similar things, and I also study psychology which you know because I hyperfixated on it two fucking years ago and I've done lots of research, and lots of thinking, and I think it might actually be [insert disorder] because I checked the criteria, and I actually fit every single one, and this is having a really detrimental effect on me, and I just think we should go to the doctor and see if-"
And then she interrupts me in the middle of my carefully structured speech and fucking laughs in my face, and tells me to get my ass off of Google and stop self diagnosing, whEN ALL IM LITERALLY DOING IS TRYING TO RAISE A GENUINE CONCERN ABOUT SOMETHING THAT IS LITERALLY DESTROYING ME, AND THE REAL KICKER IS I DIDNT FUCKING USE GOOGLE.
It drives me mental. Whenever I bring up the fact that the stuff wrong with me is possibly not just 'mild depression and anxiety' she goes absolutely ballistic or laughs at me, because she views people with anything else as non functional and crazy. Like fuck off.
I've tried to kill myself five times. I self harm at any given opportunity mostly clean at the moment tho and I have these fucking horrible episodes where I'm either so happy it fucking hurts, so angry, I hurt MYSELF, or where I believe everyone fucking hates me and they're all gonna leave, and something as simple as texting me 'goodbye.' With the fucking dot at the end of the sentence is enough to make me spiral and believe everyone hates me. And let's not mention the psychotic episodes, like the time I had to smear my blood on every window and door in the fucking house to keep the monsters outside from eating and murdering the entire fucking family.
This isn't just a 'mild' case of depression and anxiety. This IS ME, GOING COMPLETELY FUCKING BONKERS, AND NOBODY FUCKING CARES. NOBODY NOTICES, AND NOBODY CARES.
IM NOT FUCKING EATING. I BARLEY SLEEP. I WRITE NEW SUICIDE NOTES ALMOST EVERY NIGHT BECAUSE I DONT HAVE A FUCKING CLUE IF IM GOING TO MAKE IT TILL MORNING. LIKE THIS IS NOT FUCKING NORMAL.
THIS IS NOT OKAY. BUT YET YOU JUST FUCKONG LAUGH AT ME AND ACT LIKE IM MAKING IT UP, DONT YOU MOM?
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