#making him look hot without stripping him - a concept

[beheworthy]

"You told me to find the reason I fought my way back. Let's find out."

Chris Hemsworth as Tyler Rake Extraction 2 (2023) dir. Sam Hargrave

#extraction 2 #netflix #extraction 2 netflix #extraction #tyler rake #chris hemsworth #filmedit #movieedit #chemsedit #chrishemsworthedit #netflixedit #actionedit #moviegifs #filmgifs #fyeahmovies #filmtvcentral #cinemapix #making him look hot without stripping him - a concept

[celestialwhoree]

Someone sent this to my inbox but

Simon X Uniform kink!reader🥴🩷

nsfw below the cut 💕 mdni

Normally, when Simon gets home, his first port of call is stripping off his balaclava, changing from his uniform. He leaves Ghost at the door. Your quiet, peaceful home shouldn’t be tainted by the shadow of death that lingers perpetually at his back.

To him, there’s a stigma around Ghost, around his whole career, making a life out of ending others’. Ghost gets left in the threshold of your entrance hall, dropped onto the welcome home mat and replaced by Simon. To you, it’s impossible to ignore the way he looks darkening your doorstep like death incarnate, so powerful, the epitome of brute, primal human strength. He exudes such power, such masculinity. It makes you feel weak in the most wonderful way.

Just once, you find yourself pleading for him to leave his uniform on, to let Ghost in. To take away the stigma of the thing that haunts your life. With tentative agreement and a hand on the small of your back, you’re guided back to the bedroom.

You know that Ghost will be rough, not like the soft, gentle dominance of Simon - who knows that he barely has to lift a finger to have you pliant under his touch. Ghost believes in no such thing. Ghost is a killer. A violent man who has no concept of gentleness or grace. If you want Ghost to fuck you, he’ll fuck you halfway to hell and back. The way you’re thrown down onto the bed is only a testament to how unyielding Ghost is, shredding your panties with his teeth without a word, just a growl of agreement when he sees you glistening wet.

There’s no warning when he plunges two fingers into your glistening pussy, his nails digging into the curve of your side when you cry out, a warning - a threat. He doesn’t take off his bulletproof vest, doesn’t flinch when you wrap your fingers in the velcro straps, only looking down at you with cruel knowing. Before you know it, he’s yanking down his fly, hardly bothering to pull down his jeans. He doesn’t need to. Ghost is tactical. Ghost doesn’t care for feelings.

The way his cock springs from his boxers, hard up against his abdomen, had you flinching. He makes you nervous. This Ghost is worlds away from your Simon, and it’s easy to see why people fear him so much.

You’re tempted to whine when he notches his tip against your already sensitive clit, quickly silenced by his fingers covered in your taste filling your mouth leaving you almost shamefully gagging, tears springing to your eyes.

“Been practically beggin’ me to fuck you for days now and now you’re whinin’?” He growls cruelly into your ear, his free hand finding your hip to position you. You don’t get a chance to think before his tip is thumping painfully into your cervix, leaving you crying out as you claw at his vest, his mask, anything to keep some semblance of control. He keeps a brutal pace, cruel taunts mixing with praise for how well you take him, what a perfect slut you are.

His hand pressing down slightly on the bulge in your tummy is what sends you over the edge, Simon’s brown eyes melting into stars and blinding white light as he pulls out of you, pumping his shaft and spurting ropes of hot cum on your abdomen, leaving the both of you heaving.

Ghost trickles down the shower drain along with sweat and dirt and cum, Simon washing your hair carefully as you lean your head into the crook of his neck, letting hot water pummel down your back.

“I love you. All of you.” You confess into his skin, finally content to have seen all of Simon. Not just the nice bits.

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #tf 141 #cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #Simon Riley smut #Simon Riley x you #simon riley x f!reader #ghost x f!reader #simon ghost riley x yn #ghost smut #ghost call of duty

[tteokdoroki]

aali my beloved would you be willing to share some more thots regarding domineering consent-king-kiri,,,no pressure at all I am just delighted by the concept!! If nothing else I am holding your hand making microwave noises because this tickles my brain muah

☆༉ — EIJIROU KIRISHIMA. consent and condescension.

about. your wish is my command beautiful anon. this is definitely yuzuya adjacent LDKAKS !!

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. smut, praise kink, consent heavy, condescension, scratching, afab!reader, soft dom/pro hero!kirishima.

“i only want to do this if it’s something you want.” kirishima says, his voice so quiet that it’s barely above a whisper. there’s a huskiness to it, as though he’s been holding back for so long that his tether and tie to sanity threatens to snap. the very simple fact makes a shiver run down your spine and shoot right between your legs. 

kirishima let’s put a condescending coo as he shifts to sit with you on the bed, prying apart your shaky thighs to catch a whiff of your hot cunt, a view of how juices run between your folds like golden syrup that makes you shine. you’re eijirou kirishima’s favourite sweet treat. 

“poor baby, if i hadn’t come any sooner, who knows what would have happened to you.” his voice drips to lower tones that turn on the sex signals in your brain — and as you whine out for more, the corner of the red head’s lips quirk up into a sly smile.

“all alone and unable to cum. well, don’t you worry. i’ve got you now.” you see, he knows you better than you know yourself. that you can’t get off without his thick fingers or his fat cock, and how frustrated you get when you can’t touch yourself in the same way that he does.

that’s why you called him at work, with a wobble in your saccharine voice and squelch from your cunt echoing down the line. you need eijirou.

you hardly notice how fast he strips, too dizzy and needy to speak your mind or even think. your level of desire to be fucked dumb by your man overpowers any logical reasoning you may have. taking hold of the globes of your ass, the mountainous man drags you towards him, pressing right up against your throbbing mound — looking down at you as if you’re the most beautiful, pathetic thing he’s ever seen.

you’ve not a clue as to how much you affect eijirou, with your big wet eyes and shaky hips as you rut into him for any kind of friction. he wants to ruin you and cherish you all at once, fighting with the two halves of him that join together and make him the person that he is. the hero that protects people, the man who loves you, the other that has such depraved thoughts about you. his sweet little thing.

“i’ve been dying to take you since the moment you called, fuck you against your cute little sheets, have your adorable ankles and frilly socks hangin’ over my shoulders….” eijirou’s next move is to tease your wet little slit, tapping his milky cockhead against your swollen clit repeatedly until you’re jolting and twitching from the slight streams of pleasure. “is it okay for me to touch you like this? i really want to but… your needs always come first to me.” 

the question is masked with a patronising kindness in an attempt to hide the red head’s deepest and darkest dreams. if he truly wanted to, kirishima could have plugged your hole full of his monster-like girth and fucked you until that tight, unused hole of yours was coated in his cum. yet, he treats you (the object of his affections and desires), as though you’re a porcelain doll threatening to shatter under the weight of his touch.

the cracks begin to show and the dam begins to break. your pretty face crumples with ecstasy while eijirou pushes his length through your slick pussy, laughing breathily at your arousal that clings to every spiralling blue vein that decorated his shaft. it jumps against the pleasure bud tucked away between your folds. 

you sniffle and his heart breaks for you. it does nothing to calm the flames of desire burning at eijirou’s healthy lungs — blackening them.  

“e-eiji—!”

“‘m gonna put it in now, i know, i know, sweetheart. i gotta hurry it up,” he starts, tutting down at you and your clenching cunt as he hits his hips forward — pushing his bulbous tip past the tight ring of muscle at your entrance. “you’ve been so good, sweetheart. waiting for me to get home, so you could get fucked — i just don’t wanna hurt you.” 

he brushes the pads of his thumbs over your body trembling beneath him. over your pebbling nipples, so hard they could cut diamonds because of the cold air. over your curves, your tummy and navel — every perfectly imperfect part of you. and when he reaches your thighs, they’re folded into your chest so he can give you exactly what you want. 

“oh, little one. you’re so tight, and warm around me. fuck.” eijirou is the one who hiccups this time, gripping the sheets above your head while your warm, ribbed walls grip his cock the further he pushes into you.  “so soft too, i can’t get enough of you. got me thinkin’ about you all the time.” 

he starts thrusting then, forceful but fluid like a rushing river of ecstasy. eijirou pins you to the bed below, giving you no room to wiggle away and the only option being to take everything that he gives to you. his balls clapping against the curve of your ass, his harsh moans in your ear and tip bullying your g-spot before you can even register the sensation blooming in your lower tummy. there’s no room to breathe or think while he fucks you. like he hates you, all while loving you.

“i love your pretty face. how it looks when you take me. the way your brows furrow and your soft lips part when you moan for me. can you take it? just a little more for me.” the surge of praise you receive from eijirou is like a storm that angrily hits the shore. you feel like you’re drowning, clawing at his back to drag yourself to shore while he pounds you to the high heavens. your body jolts up the bed at every one of eijrou’s thrusts — contrasting with the gentle, wet kisses he peppers across your face. 

each sweet word dipped in white sugar has you pliant and mailable under kirishima like freshly made candy. he praises you and your hips rise from the arousal soaked sheets to match his rhythm, sex spasming around him. “holy fucking shit. oh little one…so sweet and wet, hm? so pliant.” eijirou leans over you, shielding you from the world, and  liick at your neck, humming in satisfaction at your whistle tone moans. “you were just aching for me to get you like this, right little one? your knees pressed to your chest and my cock…nice and snug against your insides. you don’t wanna let me go, do you?” 

you promptly shake your head, your pretty bambi eyes fluttering shut while your body thrashes and shakes from the pleasure he feeds you — piece by piece.. “e-eiji…p-please, i need it. i c-can’t—!” 

the red head squishes your cheeks together, grunting impatiently and pressing on until his cock is pressing comfortably against your womb. “oh you poor baby, i need to give it to you just as bad as you want it… but,” the rough pads of his fingers sink into your supple cheeks as he turns your face to look at him. “i need you to look at me first. look me in the eye, sweetheart. show me how badly you want it. you’re so pretty when you do it like that, you know.” 

a wet whimper bubbles up on your lips, cherry bitten from where they’ve been caught between your teeth. they echo between your sweet slicked bodies and mingle with the saccharine syllables of kirishima’s words, as condescending as they might be. that with his domineering presence and constant stimulation of all your pleasure spots has you a ruined mess beneath him.

“i’m gonna make you cum. i have to make you cum, if it’s the last thing i do, little one.” eijirou promised lazily, circling his hips in a slow grind just he can drag out your pleasure for a little bit longer — torture you underneath him so he can keep on seeing your pretty face. he seals the promise with a sloppy kiss, sucking on your saliva soaked tongue until you’re begging him for air. “you want that too, right?”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #kirishima x you #bnha smut #bnha thirst #bnha x reader #eijirou kirishima smut #eijirou kirishima x you #kirishima eijirou smut #✧ ₊˚✉️੭ — new notification #✧ ₊˚💬੭ — unknown messenger #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki

[ashwhowrites]

Older! Rockstar! Eddie Munson x reader, she goes to a concert of Corroded Coffin and Eddie sees her and he thinks she's cute, they've been in some dates but groupies of Eddie start to talk bad about reader and she's always sad because of that and Eddie decides that he doesn't want to see reader sad so they have a day without their phones so she can be relaxed and Eddie talks about that to his followers and he hates that people talk bad about her girl (idk if modern au would be good for this, but I hope you can write more Older! Eddie fics, we need him! No pressure tho!)

We can definitely make it modern au for the social media part. And I agree, we need older! Eddie. I hope you enjoy this and thank you for requesting <3

Fans

Y/N wasn't the type to go to concerts alone, but one of her favorite bands was playing and none of her friends would go. Her friends weren't into the older bands, but Y/N loved Corroded Coffin for years and now she was old enough to get into the venues. She wasn't going to miss her chance to see them just because no one would go with her.

As she stood in the front row, Eddie Munson right there in front of her eyes, she knew she made the right choice. She couldn't help but feel like he was constantly looking right back at her. His eyes stared at her as she sang along, her eyes switching from his eyes to his lips, to his fingers on the guitar. He was even more hot up close.

Eddie finished the set, his mind still thinking of the girl in the front row. She knew every song, every beat, and she was gorgeous.

"Question, how old do you think the girl in the front was? With the black cropped Eddie's girl shirt, and red lips." Eddie asked, the band in the dressing room as they stripped out of their sweaty clothes.

"No idea, but old enough to get in." Gareth shrugged. Eddie nodded, that was enough for him. He didn't bother to find another shirt, throwing on a zip-up and sweatpants. He threw his hair in a bun and headed back out to the crowd. Girls screaming when they caught him sneaking by. He smiled and winked at a few as he tried to find the girl. Catching the back of her as she headed for the exit.

"HEY! RED LIPS!" He screamed, he hoped his voice would carry over the sound of the screaming girls. But she kept walking, Eddie signed as many things as he could as his eyes stayed on her.

"YO EDDIE'S GIRL IN FRONT ROW!" he tried again, this time she stopped. He could see her head look down at her shirt and then slowly turn around. Eddie softly pushed past the girls, apologizing for walking by, he promised to come back to sign things.

"Me?" She mouthed as he walked closer.

He smirked and nodded, walking faster to reach her. She stood next to the door and looked around. Thousands of girls staring at them. Some older women and some young girls like her.

"Here's my number, use it anyway you want." He winked as he handed her the piece of paper.

~~~

That was four months ago, and they've been on countless dates since. She couldn't understand the concept that she was dating her biggest celebrity crush. She tried to keep herself calm around him, but he made her lose her mind.

She hung out with the band, she sat on the sidelines during practices. It was like her world flipped upside down.

Eddie was exactly as she thought he'd be. He was hyper, funny, and childish at times. He was still young at heart and enjoyed doing the dumb things she did. Age wasn't an issue for them, but it was for the fans.

Y/N knew that dating someone famous would be hard. She was a fan herself, she's read countless tweets about jealous fans and how cruel they could be. She never thought she'd be on the receiving end of it.

The relationship was still fresh, and the fans one by one finding out more about her. Some fans thought she looked good with Eddie, and many loved that she was a real fan before the relationship even began. But once the news got out that Eddie Munson, the heartthrob was dating a younger girl, the world exploded.

Every magazine was fixated on it. It was the hot gossip and the main topic Eddie talked about in interviews. Eddie was never a private person and she didn't expect him to be now either. But she wished her age wasn't a big scandal.

"Eddie Munson's new girlfriend.....read about the hot young twenty-one-year-old now!"

"Eddie Munson shows off new young girlfriend, love or just lust?"

"The lead singer of Corroded Coffin is off the market! But seems to only be looking in the juniors section."

Yeah, some got nasty about it.

She sat on her phone, looking at the comments below Eddie's new post, a selfie of them on the beach.

"He's only with her because she's young."

"Jeez can she be anymore see through? Dating the biggest star in the world at her age? was she even born when his music came out?"

"Probably dropped out of college and needs a quick money grab."

"she's not even that attractive.....I think he's more into her being twenty years younger than him."

"I hope she enjoys this while she can. Not like he's going to settle down and marry her"

"I hope he sees she's just in it for the money."

"I told you to stop reading those," Eddie demanded, snatching the phone out of her hand. He sighed as he turned off her phone, putting it in his back pocket. He crossed his arms as he stood in front of her.

"I'm sorry! It's just that they hate me. These are your fans and I want them to like me." Y/N said, looking up as Eddie gave her the dad look.

"Okay giving me that look doesn't make me feel any better about people making jokes about me being young enough to be your daughter." She huffed, crossing her arms.

"Baby, don't listen to them. They don't know about our relationship, why believe what they have to say?" Eddie said, taking a seat next to her. He grabbed her legs and put them on his lap, his rough hands rubbing her soft skin.

"These are people that love you like I do! I hate to disappoint everyone because I'm not the right age."

"If you spend so much time listening to them, can you listen to me? I don't care what anyone thinks of our relationship. The people that truly love me, like the way you do, will accept and love you. You aren't disappointing anyone and there's nothing wrong with your age. The band loves you! They adore you and support us. They don't look at you and see your age. They see the hot girl that was front row screaming her lungs out in an Eddie Munson girl shirt." He said, his hand stopped on her knee giving it a comforting squeeze.

"I love you and I love the band as well." She said smiling. She moved into his lap and he wrapped his arms around her.

"No phones today. Just me and you." He said, kissing her cheek as she cuddled into him.

"Just me and you." She repeated.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson fluff #older eddie munson x reader #rockstar! eddie x reader #ashwhowrites

[danikamariewrites]

Can you do one where Xaden uses his shadows during sex? Or just teasing through out the day to get reader all bothered? I can just see him being a little shit with his shadows. Like holding readers hands above their head or teasing their body with the shadows.

I swear, this man lives rent free in my head along with Rhysand and Aaron Warner. They have risen the standards for nonfictional men lol

Hot and Cold (SMUT)

Xaden x reader

A/n: I love this concept for all shadow book bfs and Xaden has been living in my mind too

Warnings: smut (18+ only please)

As soon as Xaden got you on his bed he had his shadows pin your arms above your head. He left you in your underwear while he was still completely clothed. His thigh rested between your legs pressed against your sex. You try to rub yourself against his leather clad thigh, desperate for some friction.

His shadows hold down your thighs spreading them wider. Xaden’s eyes roam over your writhing body. He grabs the waistband of your panties, ripping them from your body. He leans down to whisper in your ear, his voice deep and raspy, “If you can stay still like a good girl while I strip I’ll give you what you want.”

Xaden stands up and starts to strip slowly. He smirks down at you as you eye him. Silently begging him to take his clothes off faster. You’re trying your hardest to stay still but your hips twitch.

You feel the coolness of his shadows sliding up the inside of your thigh over your clit. You shiver as it continues to move up. The shadow leaves your sex, snaking up your torso. Once it gets to the valley of your breasts the shadow splits in two. They begin to swirl around your pebbled nipples, twisting and teasing them.

Throwing your head back your eyes screw shut. You mewl at Xaden’s teasing. At this point he’s fully undressed, finally kneeling between your legs again. You look up at him, your eyes pleading, “P-please Xaden. Need you. Need your cock please.”

“Yeah. My good girl, asking all nice.” He runs a finger through your soaking folds. “So wet for me.” Without warning he plunges two thick fingers in your slit, spreading them and pulling them out. You moan as he thrusts them in and out of you. His pace brutal.

You clench around his fingers and he pulls out entirely. You whimper at the loss of him. “Sshh, it’s ok sweet girl. I’ll give you what you want in a second.” You strain your arms against his shadows but they don’t budge. If anything you feel them become tighter. Xaden positions himself over you, pulling his shadows back from your thighs.

“Open.” He commands. You open your mouth and he sticks his fingers in. “Suck.” Clamping down you moan at the taste of yourself on him and begin sucking. You looked at Xaden through your lashes and he growls. “So fucking perfect.”

Xaden throws your legs around his torso with his free hand and slides his length into you. Your eyes roll back at the fullness, a broken sob escaping your stuffed mouth. He starts fucking into you at a rough and brutal pace. Rolling his hips so he can reach the deepest parts of you. “Fuck baby - feel so good around me.”

Between his fingers and his cock you were on cloud nine. The pressure of his fingers as you sucked on them was perfect. He felt perfect. “You love this don’t you baby? Love sucking on my fingers.” You nod, letting out a high pitched moan.

You loved when he fucked you like this. So commanding and in control. Xaden had been working you up all day and now he was finally giving you what you had been craving.

He switches to long, controlled strokes. The head of his cock rubs against the spot that makes you see stars. You feel your orgasm approaching. You groan as your walls flutter around Xaden’s cock. He lets out a growl, “You gonna come?” You nod again, your moans consistent as you breathe out through your nose.

“I’m right behind you baby. Fuck - go ahead, let go.” Your orgasm rips through you, your thighs shaking around him. Xaden finishes with a groan, coating your walls with seed.

Xaden lays on top of you, careful as to not put all his weight on you. He releases your hands and they instantly fly to his hair. You card your fingers through the short, curly onyx locks.

As you both calm down your legs slip from him to the bed. Xaden tilts his head to look at you placing a soft kiss on your neck. “You ok?” His face set in a worried look. Like he was afraid it was too much. You gave him a tired smile, “I’m perfect.”

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #xaden riorson #fourth wing smut #xaden riorson smut #xaden fourth wing x reader #xaden fourth wing #xaden riorson x reader #xaden x reader #Xaden x you #Xaden riorson fourth wing

[bsxcrxts]

flightsuit

minors dni. this work is explicit. do not interact without your age in your bio. you must be over 18 to interact with my works.

word count: 800 something

A/N: pinning Luke Skywalker up against a wall in his orange flightsuit, dry humping, Luke's praise kink, needy Luke. takes place on Hoth before the events of ESB! wrote this one in an hour in a fevered desire to flesh out this concept that I've talked about before but never at length

"But I have all my gear on and–"

"Oh honey, do you want me to touch you or not?"

"Yes! Yes. But it's impossible to get out of all of this and back into all of it in time," Luke protests, but he moves to start unbuckling some of the belted straps along the uniform anyway, scrambling.

"Then don't," you suggest. You've managed to pin Luke against the door of his quarters before he rushes off to flight maneuvers with his squadron.

It's hard to believe that the orange flightsuit could look flattering on anyone, but Luke looks good, good enough to distract him from his duties even just for a moment.

He's not wrong about the uniform though. Between the flak vest and the life support unit on his chest, it's hard to get very close to him without pushing buttons you probably shouldn't. You're pressed up against him to his right side to avoid the equipment, practically straddling his thigh, trying to not get tangled in the gear straps hanging around his legs.

Luke can't even really touch you properly in this state, not with his flight gloves on and his right arm practically pinned beneath you like this. In a way, he's at your mercy, though you know if he actually wanted to stop he'd tell you, and the power dynamic is going to your head a little.

He's also right. He's not going to be able to strip out of the getup and back into it with enough time to not appear suspicious. But you don't want him to get out of it.

"Besides, you're already the hero of the Rebellion. A pilot as good as you needs to run practice drills?" you breathe, and take the opportunity to tease him a little. You don't actually believe he shouldn't run flight maneuvers, and he doesn't like to outright brag about destroying the Death Star, but the praise has him biting his lip and squirming against you.

"They-they're expecting me out there and if I don't– haah, mm," Luke interrupts himself with a moan as you run your hand along his bulge, "I-I'll be l-late."

"No, you won't."

Luke gives you a very confused, breathy hhm? noise, his cheeks flushed. It's probably hot in more ways than one for him right now, the flightsuit being made to insulate against the cold of the atmosphere, not for sharing body heat like this.

"You won't be late," you repeat, palming his clothed cock more firmly. The weight of his bulge against your hand nearly makes you lose focus.

Luke almost laughs, his blue eyes are blown, his head tilted back, and if any more of his neck was exposed you'd bite a kiss there where you know he likes it most. He starts offering solutions.

"M-maybe I can just take m-myself out," he starts, hands fumbling for the zipper on his flightsuit again.

"No, baby."

"N-no? Then how 'm I gonna make it in time?" he whines, in typical fashion, but obediently, he stops trying to undo the closures on his uniform.

"You can cum in your pants like this, or you can walk away right now and go run your drills with a hard cock."

"Kriff, I don't– can't finish like this," he protests. He's a fucking liar; Luke's spilled from less before with you, he just wants more.

You let him grind against your hand, hips stuttering against you. You're not even sure he's consciously doing it– the movement sloppy and rushed, obviously intuitive.

"Yes you can baby, look," you draw his attention towards his own motions. He watches himself fuck his clothed cock against your hand and whines, making you almost giggle at his wanton display. "Look at how good you're being right now."

"Wanna cum," Luke chokes out, covering your hand with his own so you can't pull your hand away, and fucking against your palm harder. The surprising motion and insistence with which he grinds against you goes straight to your cunt, and you're practically riding his thigh in return now.

"Stars, good, good boy, take it. Don't have much time, so make a mess for me, okay?" you insist.

"Yes, ffuck, yes," Luke strains against you, cock kicking against your hand, cumming with little haah, mh, mh sounds that make you clench around nothing. You kiss him as his hips slow, and he smiles against your mouth.

When you pull back, there's a cute wet spot on the orange suit where the tip of his cock was pressed against the fabric, which flusters both you and Luke.

"Oh, damn it," he whines. Luckily, the stain is just barely hidden when the grey gear straps fall back into place.

"I'll clean you up when you get back," you say, winking at him as he rushes to leave.

"Promise?" Luke turns around more than halfway out the door with a smile on his face, never satiated.

"Promise!" you shout back as he's heading down the hall to the hangar bay. You mean it.

#luke 💛 #luke skywalker smut #luke skywalker x reader #becca's bs

[cream-stew]

hello! so this is my first time sending a request so let me just.. unpack..

I've been thinking about sub!amab!Kaeya losing his virginity. reader is gn and afab. you're free to take any liberties w kinks, maybe i can suggest creampie 🧐 but honestly go w anything you think works, I just want to see this concept I have in my head:

Kaeya is the cutest thing. despite the teasing he's obedient and lays on his back on command. he lets his lover ride him and giggles a lot in the process, every new feeling and touch is welcome and though he tries to keep talking (bc istg this man never shuts up) eventually his words turn into moans when he's completely inside—to the point he feels so embarrassed he tries to cover his mouth (don't let him tho he's really pretty like this). he's just very sensitive and and easily overwhelmed w pleasure, yet eager to be praised so he drowsily takes his lover hands into his to press kisses on them as he gets dumb on pleasure <3

(this turned out longer than expected so I'm just hoping i made sense D,:) tysm and have a wonderful day!

🔞 minors dni

warnings: afab reader, virgin kaeya, creampie

// note: yeah anon this was perfect, don't worry about it❤️

you're a little surprised to learn he's still a virgin, mostly because he's a beautiful and charming man, and basically everyone is somewhat attracted to him, but also because he's such a good liar he really had you fooled at first! 

he's eager to kiss down your throat as you sit on his lap, his hands firmly planted on your hips, and he teases you when you grind against his clothed erection. 

he has you all hot and bothered in a matter of minutes, your soaked panties sticking to your pussy while you rut against him, and he keeps murmuring filthy things directly in your ear… until you mention something about him "being so good at this", and he pulls back to muffle a laugh against the back of his hand.

that is when you find out he's a virgin, that he's never done this before and that he was just playing around with things to say without actually knowing if they'd work!

for a moment you think he's pranking you, but you quickly realize he's telling the truth, and you’re not… mad at him or anything! but you kinda want to see his facade crumble, you know?👀 you want to turn him into a whimpering mess as he begs to cum in your pussy!

he seems very willing to let you take the lead, leaning back against the pillows as you push him down, unbuckling his pants to get them out of the way. 

you stand up for a moment, stripping completely and grinning as you take in the way he stares at your tits and licks his lips. you sit back on his lap, taking his cock in both hands and pressing it against your pussy lips, coating it with your copious slick. his moans are delicious, sometimes muffled and sometimes loud, depending if he manages to cover his mouth in time, and you find out you really enjoy teasing him like this! he’s still way too coherent to consider it a successful mission, though, still talking back at you and looking up with an arrogant grin, so you take it as your cue to start pressing his cock inside. just the tip, tho !! you want to make it slow and excruciating for him !!

he stutters as you guide his cock past your entrance, looking dazed as he follows the way it sinks into your pussy. “does it feel good?”, it’s your turn to tease him, grinding your hips down just barely, but he’s still trying to keep his cool.

“yeah, you feel perfect around me”, he grins, though he sounds breathless, and his praises get cut off when you sink more on his cock, taking it about halfway inside.

you give him no respite, then, sitting back on him and taking his cock fully inside, laughing at the way he gasps and grips your hips almost unconsciously. it feels so good to take him to the hilt, your pussy perfectly stretched around his girth, and you think it must feel just as good for him, judging by the way his words stopped making any sense. he’s just babbling and moaning now, his hips bucking up into you, and you take pity on him. you start moving a lil bit, rising on your knees and falling back down after a moment, and honestly you’re just surprised he’s not cumming already, he definitely has more stamina than you thought!

you start riding him, picking up your pace just to hear him moan even more, and you’re quick to swat his hands away when he tries to cover his mouth again. you hold his hands in yours, and he interlocks his fingers with your own, making you smile fondly. he’s so endearing when he’s not pretending that nothing ever fazes him!

you can tell he’s finally getting close to his orgasm, and you ride him even faster, wanting to make it good for him. you let him cum in your pussy, sitting flush to his hips so that you can take it all inside, and the way he brings your hands closer to his mouth, to kiss all over your knuckles, just makes you want to start riding him again !! he can deal with a lil bit of overstimulation even if it’s his first time, right?

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya smut

[puffpasstea]

okay that bladder control blurb is gonna be so hot! Even like the concept?🔥🔥🔥

Let’s do a lil concept 😁

I think it starts out as Harry kind of wanting to see how much control he can have over her. Like maybe they were trying something new (maybe a plug or electricity) for the first time and she wasn’t listening to his directions. He wanted her to relax and do as he says and she kept resisting so he figured he’d remind her who’s in charge here.

So he gives her water to drink, and she doesn’t think anything of it. Harry’s quite big on hydration. Then he gives her another bottle. And another. And she’s like “I’m full I can’t.” But he gives her The Look and tells her she’s done enough disobeying for a day. So she eventually listens. Then when she’s like “oof. Drank too much. I’ll be right back I need to pee.” He tells her she will do no such thing. And to sit her ass back down. She’s all confused and he tells her that’s what she gets for being a bad girl.

Slowly, it dawns on her that this is actually an effective punishment cuz she’s soon uncomfortable and kind of embarrassed to be asking someone for permission to use the restroom. He sets a timer and tells her he’ll let her go when it goes off. Not a second before. At first, she wants to be good so she waits patiently. Squirming and struggling to stay still, but really trying to hold it. But the longer she waits, the harder it is. So she starts begging frantically “please sir I can’t hold it in anymore,” “please it hurts so much,” offering him anything in exchange for letting her go early. She says she’ll suck him off, she’ll let him cum on her face. And she’s like “silly girl you think if this was just about sex I wouldn’t have already fucked you?” and she’s afraid she might have to disobey cuz she’s not sure she’ll make it.

Finally when the time comes, she hurries into the bathroom and is surprised that he followed her in. She gives him a kind of “excuse me?” Look. He tells her to strip off everything but the underwear and climb into the bathtub. Her humiliation isn’t finished yet. She stands there squirming and begging while Harry pressed his hand to her lower abdomen. At first she tries not to let him get to her, but she finally lets go, unable to hold it any longer. The first wave wets her panties and she yells and squirms and whines for him to please stop. Then he goes it again pressing his hand a little harder this time and watching her release and yell “nooo please please stop” over and over. He does this at his own pace, not caring how she feels about it or what she wants to do until she’s completely empty. And she’s shocked that this experience has made her feel sooo subby and small and helpless she won’t even move a single finger without his say so.

He takes takes his time cleaning her up and reminding her that she’s HIS. And that HES in charge.

So it becomes a punishment that he breaks out occasionally. Edging her while her bladder is full, forcing her to get FULLY DRESSED before letting her cum/pee. Timing her and kissing or touching all over her body softly she accidentally pees. Etc.

ITS 7 IN THE MORNING WHAT AM I DOING

#dom!harry #ask #harry styles smut

[lokiinmediasideblog]

On Ratty-ass clothing...

Another hot take I have about reactions to the Loki (2021) show is the emphasis on Loki and Sylvie's “ratty” clothing. I see Sylvie get compared to Amora (The Enchantress from the comics) and to Lady Loki ( I will make a post on that one specifically, later). I have issues with that. It just seems like people prioritizing aesthetics over the narrative.

Comic book/anime costumes often don't translate well for films that require stunts. I recall that with the Netflix adaptation of Cowboy Bebop, they had originally gone with a more accurate costume, but it kept riding "up the butt." Amora and Lady Loki's costumes would cause a lot of wardrobe malfunctions...

Sylvie and Loki are both on the run. Do you think their priority is to look good? They're just trying to survive, and maybe Loki has tired himself out and has a limited amount of magic he can use? I definitely think they should put a nice outfit at some point where they're not on the run, or ar at a fancy event. The concept art from the Loki art book looks great and I would love to see that translated into the show (Feige, you better).

Loki's wardrobe changes seem to be mostly illusions. The clothing changes to fit in with modern humans in Thor 1, and Avengers 1 are definitely illusions. Loki’s wearing his Asgardian garb without them (based on the forced stripping scene). I am one of those people that thinks Loki was having a bad time with the Black Order, and I think he was able to maintain the illusions during Avengers (2012) because he was borrowing a power source (the scepter). In the show, not only is Loki having a bad time, but he has no power source to borrow power from. He does conjure a blanket and a holster, but for the sake of my “Loki magic logic head-cannons” I will just go with “he had them in his pocket dimension.” And the remaining question is why Loki didn’t pack a change of clothes before attempting suicide via falling into the Void? He didn’t think he’d make it that far.

Who the fuck does he have to impress? The Loki series inculcated an even worse sense of powerlessness and existential dread into him than the Black Order (who allowed him to perform his dramatics on Earth despite the implied coercion). Do you think he cares when there’s so much existential dread? He is not the threat that has to intimidate others. He is just trying to survive and for Sylvie to be okay.

Thankfully, S2 seems to have given him clothing changes, so he’s no longer in that stanky-ass shirt. Good for him.

#mcu!loki #mcu!sylvie #loki (2021) #hot takes #some of this is me fixing inconsistent logic but whatevs #the mcu is inconsistent as fuck

[discodeviant]

Safety in Secrecy

Billy | Mature | 1.3k

So I’ve been sitting on this one for a WHIIIIIILE. Like, I’m talking over a month. Still not sure how I feel about it; it’s a strange one lol, idk what else to say, but I hope you enjoy <3 Can be read with or without Upside Down in mind, doesn't matter :)

Made for @billyhargrovebingo!

Read on AO3

He could be a daredevil sometimes.

Letting a girl blow him in the car, maybe, so he could watch the road and pretend it was a guy. Making out with some chick in the bathroom stall, less often, eyes closed and still trying to pretend it was a guy through fruity perfume and sticky lip gloss. He tried to scratch the itch he left behind in San Diego, having kissed a boy, having been touched by him too, but Hawkins didn’t compare. Hawkins didn’t get his heart racing for the possibility of a fling that did something for him, that made him feel from his gut to the tip of his tongue as he whispered a name in stutters. In Hawkins, no one risked anything—especially not for him.

So he let himself be a daredevil sometimes.

Stepped out of his comfort zone to jerk off in a bathroom stall, in the car behind a strip mall, the movie theater; places where his heart walked with haste over his stomach, because there wasn’t much more Hawkins could offer in the way of excitement. Not a lively night crowd downtown, nor loose enough circles for him to weave his way into and find someone loyal enough to him to drop everything for a fuck.

If anything, Billy’s heart purred. Constant humming in his throat while the ghosts of what he wanted made him think Hawkins had its secrets after all. Somewhere dark, somewhere far below the surface that no one could know until they were dead, and sometimes the concept didn’t seem so bad—but it meant that he still may never know, so he kept his chin above water.

As much as he denied it, Billy couldn’t feign bravery about everything. Most things were easy to act unwary of, like detention or getting a speeding ticket; he could have been a movie star. Other things, not so. Other things like being abandoned again, or beaten so badly that he wouldn’t recognize himself anymore. Other things like Sattler’s Quarry, a place he learned about a month after he started talking to couples who lost their virginities in the surrounding forest. And he felt so stupid, avoiding it for months after the first drive down—not because of the animals, but the water below held dangerous things, he was sure. Hawkins’ secrets that were left to drown and disintegrate into rusty plumes. Drugs, weapons, people like Billy who were too broken to be fixed.

Some nights, the quarry called to him. Not audibly, though it rustled gently through his bones. Pulled him closer when he passed it, tugged at his chest and hips and wound around his cock with shadowy hands of its own. Some nights, he thought about driving there, watching the water, letting himself fall and become a secret of himself, but he had never been that brave.

Not until the summer of eighty-six when he couldn’t take it anymore.

The tightness in his stomach was too much to bear, and nothing got his heart pumping like the image of crystallized limestone in the sun, a still basin inviting him closer, dangling him just over the edge before it swallowed him whole.

“God, you are such a pussy,” he said to himself, looking down into it as moonlight bounced on his face. His boots were too close to the edge already, but he could still run if he had to. Unless, somehow, he weighed too much. Unless he heard something and startled a little too far back.

Unless, unless, unless—

He sat down and let his legs dangle with a terribly dull pain in his chest that made it hurt to breathe. He didn’t want to look down, nor could he without letting tears free that already scratched at his throat and burned in his nose. Even so, Billy was a daredevil that night; thus, bravery it was.

Closing his eyes would have made it too easy, so he kept them wide open. His palm was hot against a denim-dressed thigh, running along the top and outside before daring to dip down between. He was already hard. He was hard on the ride over. He was hard in bed that morning after a long, vivid dream—or nightmare, either way—of the very image he sat in. That hand cupped his aching bulge and moved in short motions, testing the waters, asking him if he really wanted to do this, and the zipper coming down was an uninhibited yes.

If he was feeling braver, maybe he’d have done more than push his briefs down for his cock to resettle in his hold. Maybe he’d have laid back and made use of his right hand. Maybe another time. Right now the end of the night was still open—he could still shiver and moan loudly enough to become the top of an avalanche, tumbling down half-naked and hardly making it to an orgasm with his last breath. The possibility choked him for a split second, so much like the kind that turned him on, but so much more dangerous. It was fatal.

Permanent.

His boot heels scratched against the rock as he continued gentle strokes up and down, dry until he spit into his palm and shuddered in a cool gust of air. By then he couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to. The high was already too deep inside, too pressing against his stomach for him to pretend he wasn’t already there. He wondered if, when he came, it would disappear. The worry, the paranoia, the belief that he could tip right over. When he came, would the gripping in his chest let up, or would it be worse? Would it bring him here more often?

Did the depths want him?

With every strained grunt, his vision blurred, sinking lower and lower until he looked right into the water’s eyes. First there was one, a reflection of the full moon, and then there were two, then four, then twenty. A million tiny, twinkling lights in the water that only moved with the breeze. His breaths, if he gasped hard enough. His orgasm, if he changed his mind and finger-fucked himself right into the dirt and sediment, causing a rift in the earth to reveal every secret Hawkins thought it could hide from him.

With a heavy exhale, Billy came before he even realized it was happening, quick and abrupt but heavy enough to wrack thunder through his bones. “Oh, fuck.” He gritted his teeth, still forced his eyes open to watch as the view below him remained unchanged. Nothing broke or rolled beneath, the ground didn’t crack, and he didn’t fall. There was a stain that he smeared into the knee of his jeans, and more to wipe off his hand.

Then he lay back, closed his eyes, let the twisted arousal run its course through him with jolts through his body until there was no energy left to spend on them. His dick still rest outside of his jeans, uncomfortable just over the zipper; flaccid, worn out, unafraid now that he was back in control. But how long until the quarry called again, he couldn’t say, or think, or guess more than he did already. How long until it dragged him down by the ankle, curled its tendrils up, up, up to fuck him right into the water—it was a secret.

He was a secret.

It was his secret when he finally stood, hiked his jeans back up, and spit in the face of his newfound terrors. He would be safe in the car, at least, if not at the house, if not at the pool. He would be safe with the tinny radio and shitty air conditioner like always, because he didn’t always feel like a daredevil.

Sometimes he just wanted to be okay.

#billy hargrove #stranger things #billy hargrove bingo #.discowrites #stranger things fic #fanfic #one shot

[vintagehellfire]

The Prowler | Eddie Munson x Reader

PART 1 | (PART 2)

I haven’t updated in so long because idk where to go from here but here we are. I kind of hate this chapter and I’m having a giant writers block and have been for months now. I wanted this original concept to be a one shot but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. But now I regret saying it’ll be 8 parts lol. 

Let me know what you think.

CW: 18+ mdi, strip club, smoking, unhealthy coping mechanisms, drinking, misogyny, cat calling. Reader being mean for no reason

Remember Tomorrow 

Eddie stayed with (y/n) throught the night, holding them tight as tremors wracked their body, the occasional sob escaping their swollen lips. The two migrated from the front door to the old beat up couch, folded together and allowing themselves to relish in the presence of the other – something (y/n) wouldn’t normally allow. In fact, after that night, (y/n) didn’t imagine themselves ever allowing themselves this luxury again. 

After a long moment, (y/n) peeled themselves from Eddie before attempting to look him in the eyes, yet, they couldn’t bring themselves to. They imagined that if they looked to Eddie that they’d see that solemn expression in his eyes, the pity, the sadness that they so wanted to avoid seeing. 

“I- I’m not coldhearted or soulless,” (y/n) starts, “I know I act like it, but I’m not. It’s self preservation and… I guess people expect me to live up to these rumours and tall tales. To live up to the emotionally detached coldhearted whore.” A dry laugh escaped their mouth as they spilled their emotional turmoils to Eddie. “Guys here… They want a quick and dirty fuck and act as if I don’t have the right to refuse all because of that one stupid…” Hot tears begind to drip down (y/n)’s face.

“Shh,” Eddie interrupts, rubbing circles into (y/n)’s back before tugging them into his body., “Rumours spread like wildfire here in Hawkins,” he chides, “but that never makes it your fault. The jocks have nothing better to do than sit on their asses, throw a ball around, and try to get laid. If a rumor as such spread about them, well, they wouldn’t be taking it too lightly.” (Y/n) hums in agreement. 

“I just wanted a fresh start, to forget the past. Come to this new town on better terms.” Eddie nodded gently at what (y/n) was saying, not quite understanding what they were referring to but understanding the sentiment of wanting a clean slate. 

“I know, sweetheart.” (Y/n)’s heart fluttered at the nickname despite the desire to distance themselves from the metalhead. “I’ve got you. We’re neighbours so all you have to do is knock when and if you need me.” A small nod came from (y/n) and they slowly peeled their body from Eddie’s. It was with great reluctance that they did so, but they’d never let him know such a thing. A single tear fell from their right eye before they quickly wiped it away. 

“Sorry, I just- I just don’t remember the last time someone treated me like a human. I remember my parents would try to keep me under guard and I couldn’t do anything without their approval. I started rebelling really early on, but,” (y/n) looks down at their hands while Eddie’s eyes are fixed on nobody and nothing but them, “I did anything I could that would wind them up, anything that would get me attention. They were… are… diplomats. That’s not a life you can bring a child into, not really anyway. Negative attention was attention until they got a maid to watch over me. I called her l’œil omniscient, the all seeing eye. She never let me slip.” A sigh left their lips and Eddie’s hand came up to their chin, tilting it upwards. It was as if  he wanted to say something but he didn’t know what and so he moved his hand to cup (y/n)’s cheek and brushed his thumb across their cheekbone.  “Eventually I turned eighteen, and they didn’t want me to move out because they wouldn’t be able to control their public image and so I just had to cope in whatever way I could. Any money I made was forfeit to them save for a small allowance for going out. That’s when.. I started coping.” 

“I’m sorry…” Eddie mumbled, pressing his forehead to (y/n)’s. There were only nods that came from (y/n), choked sobs threatening to erupt from their throat if they so much as attempted to speak. 

--

(Y/N) packed their school bag the next morning with pencils, papers, and a few extra items for their late night shift, Eddie a few feet away from them. There was a shame that flooded them, knowing that Eddie probably wouldn’t be as open to being around them after he discovers their secret. Nobody really wanted to associate with it, with the stigma that came along. It was as if their job somehow tainted them, coating them in the stench of shame, humiliation, and something that no amount of showers could wash away. 

Eddie grumbled gently before letting out a snore and waking himself up. His doe eyes cracked open and while he first knit his eyebrows in confusion over the strange scene, the dark sheets, the paintings and artwork strewn across the walls, the faint smell of oud and smoke – this wasn’t his trailer, he soon adjusted and it dawned on him that he fell asleep at (y/n)’s place. 

“Good morning.” He croaked out, deep velvety voice called to you, a few crackles across the tenderness that enveloped the simple statement. It caused (y/n) to look up, heart racing a million miles a minute, words that hadn’t been spoken with such gentleness in a hefty number of years, not even by false lovers that occupied their bed. 

“Oh, uh.. Morning.” (Y/N) mumbled out before turning their head away, shame suddenly flooding them. He wouldn’t be sticking around much longer, not after he found out what they do for a living, what they do to sustain themselves in this shithole and all others. 

There was a certain stigma surrounding the work that they did. It wasn’t exactly the most traditional job, nor the safest, one wrong client coming in and it might as well be a death sentence but at the end of the day, it was also a highly requested job for those melancholic and alcoholic folks who couldn’t very well deal with their own emotions. From time to time (y/n) would even get a client who spilled their life story, their sorrows and their hopes, the dreams that wound up crushed. 

“What’s got those gears turning, sweetheart?” Eddie ponders out loud, letting the question slip past his lips with ease, unknowingly asking one of the heaviest questions he could have. 

“Nothing, everything. Last night.” (Y/n) sighed out before rubbing their face and sitting back on their knees. “Eddie, I just… I need some space. I need to process everything that happened…” They choked out. In reality they didn’t want Eddie gone, but it was better to rip themselves away now than to let Eddie know what was really going on, than to come forth and tell Eddie what “coping” actually meant. It was better to have a distance than to have Eddie’s kind heart filled with the black venomous hatred that everyone else’s seems to be upon discovery of this particular coping mechanism. 

“Oh, uh… I can, I can go.” He says regrettably before crawling slowly out of the bed and putting on his shoes. He made an effort to be quick as a fox to get out of (y/n)’s hair, not overstaying his welcome for a single second longer – last night was quite enough of a breach of boundaries by his standards, especially given the air was tense now. He didn’t know what to make of this however. The comfort from last night in contrast to the coldness this morning… It pained him. It stung more than getting sucker punched by any jock, and maybe that’s because the coldness of the rejection went to his heart too. 

–

The sensual music boomed loudly, reverberating against the walls, the blinding lights overwhelming (y/n), but it was something to get used to. These jobs were always like that - overwhelming with crap music, blinding spotlights, but like other jobs, it was get in, get paid, get out just with a few more complications. For one, not every afterschool job meant dancing in lingerie at some seedy bar at the edge of town, and not every afterschool job would allow people to make enough to cover rent and a good stipend for college or whatever else was to be chosen. 

It wasn’t a desired job but it was a job that made (y/n) feel desired even if it was by Hawkin’s worst beer bellied scum. With a deep sigh they pushed out of the changing rooms and plastered a smile across their face, makeup done bright, toned body snaking around the bar before making a show of climbing up to the stage. Some hoots and hollers were heard from the crowd. 

“Oh yeah! Let me take you home baby!” A greasy trucker shouted from the back… This was going to be a long shift. 

#eddie x y/n #eddie x you #eddie x reader #stranger things #iron maiden inspired #eddie munson #steve harrington #stripper!reader #soft!eddie #stranger things AU #creep!eddie

[mlynar-nearl]

mn-5 after conversation analysis under the cut (though mostly mlynar because he does most of the talking in it)

Maria: Oh... uncle... Młynar: I look away from you for a second, and you somehow dig yourself even deeper. Maria: ...... Młynar: And when are you planning to stop? The leadership has been asking me time and time again about you. Every day I work in the Publicity Department is spent sorting out the trouble you cause... Half of my hours at work are lost to waiting for direction from the leadership. Go to the Knights Association this moment and exit the tournament. You don't have the faintest idea what you're doing. Maria: Is that what you wanted to say... Młynar: You will not kill yourself over this, Maria. You are a child of the Nearl family. You ought to know restraint. These annoyances all lie low in the face of the Major, so this is up to you to do, but you've already earned yourself plenty of attention. Abandon the idea that you can force your way into the Major. Abandon, also, any idea that you've yet faced the strongest competition knights.

coming in a little hot here when maria is clearly not ready to say much, but she is already expecting him to be upset with her, so it's not surprising. i think we've all seen this one no matter how good our relationship with our parents are where they're just- mad. and there's nothing you can do but let them rant. i get the feeling maria would like to tell him to please leave her alone, but, what's she going to do.

this is a rare speech from mlynar where he actually says exactly what he means, it's just that maria is not really ready to hear it. though this sounds like it should be him giving her an order, it's also him starting to beg her to listen to him. abandon the idea that you can force your way into the major (please.) abandon, also, any idea you've yet faced the strongest competition knights (please.) part of the problem of this scene is that she does view it only as an order and not also the plea of a family member who loves her.

Maria: But I don't want to just sit and watch while the Nearl family's nobility gets stripped— Młynar: —Vainglory. Maria: *Sigh*... Młynar: I've made it clear before that the Nearls do not need the approval of the Knights Association, obscene as it now is. Have you somehow come to believe that without their recognition, our ancestors' deeds would cease to exist? Nonsense! For all these years, the Nearl family stood alone to defend our name! What one cannot do, one must abandon. When one does not know how to give up... that blind alley is their end.

maria is at an age where she's looking for something to do with her life and something to believe in. in the loss of the rest of her family, she's thereby more inclined to cling to the idea that the legacy of the nearls falls to her and that if the family's titles slip away, then, too, kirill is gone forever. her parents are gone forever. margaret is gone forever. she's doing this because she cares about her family, actually!

i think mlynar, the king of [unvoiced anger] [unresolved sorrow] really does make a mistake here by overlooking the fact that she has those things too. because at this point it's really likely neither of them know that margaret doesn't actually have oripathy, they've had to think of her as if she is dead, even though she isn't. it's terminal and she's gone, so essentially, isn't it the same thing as grieving? maria is doing what she's doing because she doesn't want her sister's legacy to be lost forever, a footnote at the end of the things the lost house of nearl did. mlynar is trying to stop her from the same emotions because she is his last surviving family member. he would like her to think for one second that her, alive, no matter her station, is worth more than the concept of the noble house of nearl. she is worth more to him than the noble house of nearl. margaret will not be gone all over again, but she can disappear here and now.

he doesn't really approach this in a way that appeals to her true motivations though so it kind of bounces off of her, and she misses what he's actually saying.

Młynar: Margaret has influenced you too much, Maria. She could never recognize her own ignorance, and you are not to blindly follow her example. Maria: ......! Młynar: Don't give me that look. Have I said anything wrong? And surmounting the rulesetters within their own rules? Lunatic ravings. You know Margaret's temper. What she ultimately despised was the commercialization of the competition knights. I thought she had some backbone... And what happened? Back against the wall, she still chose the path of competition, to flaunt her "convictions." Yes, indeed. "Convictions." And could she change anything? Maria: Uncle... don't talk about Margaret like this... Młynar: She could not. The one thing she changed was how the corporations treated the Nearl family! The one thing she accomplished was forcing my father, bedridden as he was, to clean up her mess! "The Radiant Knight" is a title she should've never been conferred! She has no power to shoulder any glory of the sort!

this is the part where he kind of starts ranting because he's pissed off and-- alright, well, one of the best pieces of character analysis and interpersonal interaction i've ever heard is that anger stems from something else. in this case, it's fear. if he can persuade maria that margaret was wrong, she'll stop doing this, right? and this conversation is already very much not going his way, so he's getting more and more upset with maria for not listening to him and, in his eyes, killing herself. meanwhile, maria is getting more and more upset with him for trashing her sister, and, to her, saying that he doesn't care about margaret's memory. which is, of course, not what he's trying to say or what she's trying to do, but that's the point of a miscommunication.

and it really goes downhill from here as this miscommunication- the idea that maria is throwing her life away on mlynar's part and the idea that mlynar doesn't care about their lost relatives on maria's part- grows.

Maria: Uncle! Młynar: ...... Maria: So what about you...? Aren't you... working for the corporations, even now? You forbid me from competing while you go play servant boy to the corporations and watch the Nearl family's knighthood slip away? You can stomach that?!

honorable mention to this fireback from maria who says what most first-time readers of this conversation are probably thinking. woah, he's just...okay with that? he's telling her she shouldn't do this and he's some wagie who doesn't care about the family name? well, the answers are ahead for the reader. let's keep going:

Młynar: ...Hm. You're still young. For that, I won't blame your ignorance... but you should show respect to your elders. Maria: This again... Młynar: The skyscrapers... that the people of Kazimierz built, generation upon generation, cast the shadows that hide you in your hometown, shielded by your elders. What could you see from this safety? Did you truly believe you had something? As nothing more than a young, fledgling knight? When the sun dawned over the frontier fortresses, the Ursus skyscrapers drew their line in the clouds on the horizon. The tower attendants recreated the motions of battle in the arena to please their nobles. The young steam knights donned the armor of old to temper and hone their skills. Bounty hunters and robbers razed one destitute village after another, while the great cities were absorbed in hopes of building ever more arenas. One could call the harvest of a village versus the tax it pays comical. But all of that paled to the last sigh my father uttered on his deathbed. Not for Margaret, not for your parents—it was his lament given to all of Kazimierz.

firstly, maria saying "this again" indicates to me that they've tried to have this exact aspect of the discussion before, but to maria (because of their difference in maturity) this comes across as the lecturing of a parental figure who doesn't know what they're talking about.

secondly, though, i've said that i have a reading for this speech and i stand by it so i'll reiterate it here: he's talking about himself. not her. he is talking about himself to some extent. yes he uses the "you" but he is absolutely thinking about how she sounds like he used to be. he's saying you think you can do anything ever, but you can't. he narrates these things he's seen because they're part of the greater point that the world is bigger than both of them, and it will eat both of them if it could. i cut this speech off where i did because the conclusion line warrants its own paragraph. this is more of the same as i've said, though: the miscommunication grows. he thinks she wants to change the world, she just wants to save her family. she thinks, because of how he responds to what he imagines she thinks, she thinks he's a washed up old man who is just...saying these things to be cruel to her.

he doesn't help that perception with the following, either.

Młynar: How could you not disappoint me? Maria: ...... Młynar: You're right, Maria, you're right. I am good for nothing, nothing more than a corporate, captive burdenbeast. So. What about you?

i think this is perhaps the most infamous exchange in the field of horse analysis. the monster. the beast. the thing that keeps people from liking mlynar nearl.

how could you not disappoint me? jesus, that's a bit harsh to say to your like, 18 year old niece during an argument.

within i will slay the white whale and put this line to rest.

he's not saying he's disappointed in her personally. he's saying he's disappointed in her actions.

let's take a look at what he just said. he elaborated on something he's clearly tried to teach her by telling her repeatedly that she is not a chosen one hero of legend, the protagonist, et al, that she is not perfect, she cannot be the One Person Who Saves Kazimierz. except now, here she is, acting like the protagonist despite all the things he's tried to tell her.

how could you not disappoint me.

this is a wholly incorrect thing to say and i think this is one of his most rancid moments and that's coming from me. even if it comes from a place of his love and concern for her, it's such a horrible thing to say. but it's too late for that, he already said it. already implied to her that he doesn't care about her when the whole point leading up until now is that he would do anything to keep her safe and has been trying to teach her that she's worth more than the family name.

kind of screwed the pooch there, dude.

he concludes the conversation still angry and still saying things in the heat of the moment that should not have been said.

Maria: You won't change my mind, Uncle. Młynar: ...... Maria: ...... Młynar: You're just like Margaret... you disgust me. Your parents would find no pride in you. Take some time to calm down. Start thinking hard about who you really are. Maria: ...Please, just stop talking! Młynar: Ignorant of the world and its untold ways... Pray for blessings. That is all you have left.

this is another one where i think he does still care about her and love her, but because he's upset- because he's angry- he says something that he can never take back no matter how hard he tries. for most of the conversation up until now he's talking past her thanks to their different perspectives on what going into the major is, and at the end of the conversation, he gets so mad that he says a series of things to her that he doesn't really mean based on his points in the beginning of the conversation, but that brutally impact their relationship nonetheless.

it's a good thing they had a real talk in private after things in kazimierz cooled down. (mlynar archive 4)

There has been only one instance of Młynar, Whislash, and Blemishine having a conversation, after Whislash requested a meeting, and it lasted less than ten minutes. Although the details of that conversation are unknown, our Engineering operators told us that Blemishine suddenly seemed much more energetic, as if a weight had been lifted from her heart.

i hope he out and said what this entire argument was about- the fact that he loves her.

#i zato pjevaj s nama #ak #ash's character analysis #youre allowed to reblog this if you read the whole thing youve earned it fr

[betterbards]

The Summer Knight: Chapter 7

Read the full work here

Geralt detested summer. Alone, the heat, the damp, the bugs, were annoying; together were unbearable. Unlike winter there was no escape. There was no equivalent of a warm meal and a cozy fire. It was just hot, sticky, and smelled oh so foul.

Geralt had been under no illusions when he began his quest. If the Queen of Summer couldn’t locate the mantel, then this task was formidable—if not completely impossible. Still, he had no other option. That idiot bard was probably making deals left and right. Probably out there selling every facet of body and soul. Hell, by the time Geralt got to him there would be nothing left.

The lands of summer were brimming with life and with it, danger. Any plant could be carnivorous. Any music was a potential sirens song leading one off the path. Without the mantel, the denizens of summer treated him like an outsider. While the noble fae knew of his impending title and mainly kept their distance, the lesser fae were unconcerned with the politics of the courts and would attack without regard. Hacking through the underbrush took time, defending himself took time, and interviewing unhelpful fae took time. All of it was time Jaskier didn’t have.

The current Summer Knight was a master of the Chaos in his own right. He was an illusionist of the highest level. That functionally translated to ‘a huge pain in the ass’. The man was a ghost. It was usually easy to get the fae to talk, as getting a fae to shut up was a more impressive feat. Still, there were no reports. No one had seen the Knight in ages.

So Geralt walked. He trudged through the border towns between summer and winter. He talked to locals, did odd jobs for food, drink, and a bath. The fae were less wary of him that humans tended to be. He kept to himself. Geralt preferred the solitude to the honeyed half-truths. It was similar to the life he lived in the mortal realms.

His anxiety built over the months. Every new town was much like the last and he was getting no closer to the Summer Knight. He was running in circles.

One sweltering morning, he arrived at a border town in desperate need of a bath and laundry. His armor was a swamp and he had sweat through the last of his shirts. After a week without stopping, Geralt could no longer stand the smell of himself.

The inn was lively and the inn keeper was more than pleased to offer a mortal a room for free. Geralt insisted he pay, not wanting to owe anyone a favor.

It took a few days for his clothes to completely dry in the humidity. He stayed holed up in his room. The Fae might not have a concept of modesty, but Geralt certainly did. He took meals upstairs and convinced himself that he didn’t miss idle conversation. During the nights, he could hear the inn bard through the thin walls. A flutist, by the sound. They were good, not great, and it only made that dull ache sharper.

After a few nights stay, Geralt awoke ready to restart his search. He had planned to leave at dawn, but the heat had kept him up that night and the sun was already high in the sky. He stretched out and massaged old wounds, ready for more weeks on the road. Geralt grabbed his pack and stripped the linens for the innkeeper and headed out to try to find a lead.

He paused when he reached the door.

It was quiet downstairs. The inn had never been anything short of a rumpus. Geralt felt his senses sharpening. How had he not noticed before? At this rate, he would get himself killed before finding the mantel.

He came down the stairs cautiously. There was no sense sneaking, the building was old and the steps creaked under his weight.

The bar was empty, save for the cowering inn keeper and the great horned woman with raven wings sitting at a long table, looking like she owned the place.

“Witcher! Good of you to join us.” Yen called out with no attempt to mask her indulgence in his fear. “Care for breakfast? Esmund over there made us the loveliest spread.” She popped a dark red strawberry in her mouth.

Despite himself, Geralt relaxed. “Scaring the locals again, Lady Fall?” He didn’t take a seat but grabbed some smoked meats and a custard tart for his travels.

She rolled her eyes, “Please, it’s not my fault that Summer Fae are so weak. So how have you been? Any luck? I see that you still don’t have the mantel.”

Geralt stiffened. “No leads, yet.”

Yen didn’t try to hide her smile. “That’s a pity. I know how much you must care for your bard. The Queen has been rather patient with you, especially after you kept her waiting for so long.”

“Good luck with your business here. I’m heading out.”

“You are my business.”

Geralt started to head for the door, turning his back to Yen and giving a sympathetic nod towards the inn keeper.

“I have information for you.”

Geralt stopped in his tracks. “I have been searching for a year, Yennifer.” He growled, the hurt seeping into his voice as his hand went to his iron blade.

“Careful, Witcher,” He could feel the telltale crackle of Lady Fall’s magic. His hand stayed on the grip, but he made no move to unsheathed the weapon. “The Queen bid me to help you. Here I am.”

“Do you know where he is, or not?”

“The Summer Knight is good, But I’m better”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Take a seat, Geralt.”

Geralt took a calming breath. He weighed the options of letting Jaskier rot in Winter or swallowing his pride, and dropped his hand from his blade. He lumbered over attempting to not give Yen the satisfaction of him looking like a petulant child.

“What do you know?”

Yen grabbed another strawberry and chewed slowly, looking much like a cat playing with an ill-fated mouse. She dabbed her lips with a cloth. “I believe he is in Spring.”

“There is no Spring.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you think there is no Fall as well?”

Geralt conceded with a nod.

“Spring and Fall are liminal spaces. They act as borders between the kingdoms of Summer and Winter. They aren’t so much land, as space. The Summer Knight can’t enter or leave the bounds of Summer without the Queens consent, but I think with enough magic he could hide.”

“And you would know if he was hiding in Fall.” Geralt observed, leaning back in his chair.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Yen joked.  

“How do we get there.”

“I can get us to an access point about a day’s hike from here. We’ll want to camp before crossing, who knows what type of defenses that cretin cooked up.”

Geralt fixed her a hard glare, ”Why are you helping me, Yennifer,” He said, emphasizing her name.

She didn’t look up from her breakfast. “The reasons are my own. Leave it Witcher.”

He didn’t budge.

“Maybe I have grown soft in my old age”

He snorted.

“Let me do this for you,” She pressed, “You will regret making me beg.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and pulled a chair to eat breakfast at the table.  

---

 Hiking with Yen was surprisingly pleasant. A cool fall breeze poured off her and Geralt could catch a break from the heat when he marched close enough to the sorcerer. They made excellent time. None of the lesser fae made any attempts to attack with Lady Fall around. He was able to appreciate the sweeping landscapes and lush greenery without readying himself for the next attack.

 Of course, there were significant downsides as well. Yennifer wasn’t the conversationalist that Jaskier was, and neither knew how to talk to each other. It had been 50 years since their last falling out and Geralt didn’t know what to say. Sorry we were terrible together? I was young and dumb and you were an ancient Fae-being? Nothing seemed to fit. The settled on marching in silence.

They wound up a path through the mountains. Even at the higher elevation the air felt thick and stagnant with humidity. The shade from the trees offer little relief. Geralt hid his discomfort, opting for hiking ahead rather than invade Yen’s cool pocket of personal space.

They made camp before the summit. Yen said that there wasn’t much left and they should gather their strength for tomorrow. He had found a wide clearing with a rock formation that provided shelter on three sides. Geralt insisted that Yen take rock and he laid out his bedroll across the clearing.

They ate a quick meal of meats and fruits taken from breakfast. Neither said much. The tension from earlier was still there, thick and hot as the summer air. Gods it was dreadful.

Geralt made his excuses when night fell. It took all his self-control to remove himself from Lady Fall’s bubble of cool air. He had hoped there would be some relief as the sun set, but there was none to be found.

He settled in for the night, but sleep did not come. He pulled off his shirt to find some relief and was greeted by a swarm of tiny insects hell-bent on sucking him dry. It was nightmarish. He thought about Yen and the promise of Fall’s relief from a year of heat. It only made him hotter. Fuck, Geralt hated Summer.

“You know you can get closer to me. I won’t bite.” Yen’s voice cut through the night. She could probably smell him struggling.

Geralt huffed, “I thought fae didn’t lie.”

“I won’t bite you. Well, not unless you ask of course, but I think that ship has sailed.” He could feel her stare in the darkness, “Just come over here you insufferable ass. I won’t offer again.”

After swallowing his remaining pride, Geralt yielded. His skin peeled away from the bed roll as he sat up, wet with sweat and humidity. He packed up his stuff and slunk over to the other end of the clearing. The temperature dropped considerably as he crossed to Yennifer’s camp. A gentle wind caressed his face, making the air feel pleasant.

After a year of summer, that breeze was almost enough to make him cry.

He put down his bed roll at an appropriate distance away from Yen and laid down with his back to her, staring out into the dark forest. A moment later he could hear her shifting and felt a cold arm press up against him.

“You’re so warm. And sweaty,” She added, “but mostly warm.”

Geralt was about to move away but her voice stopped him. It was softer, more vulnerable than he had ever heard it.

He recoiled from touch more out of habit than preference. The Path was long and hard. A simple tap on the skin could turn into the kiss of a blade. It was safer to assume distance. Touching was intimate, intense. It overpowered his other senses and left him vulnerable.

But this was Yen, and after a year alone, he welcomed the contact. Geralt leaned back, allowing her to get closer.

They were both still for a moment. Geralt tried to focus on the otherworldly sounds of Faewild bugs and beasts as they sang in the dark forests surrounding them.

“The Summer Court is stifling, sweltering even” Yen broke their silence. “When I came to find you I thought I would be glad for the break. I didn’t think I would miss warmth, but here we are.” She was almost laughing now, “Gods I’m such an unbearable sap.” He could feel her shaking a bit, she might have even been crying.

He swallowed. “Is this about that Summer Court member? The woman?” He treaded carefully. Lady Fall has killed for less than prying into her personal life.

“Do you remember when we were together? I barley do. When I think back to it, it’s almost like watching a play. All we had was action and lust and rage,” She put her forehead to his arm. “Fate be damned; we were terrible together.”

Geralt stayed quiet.

“It’s amazing that we didn’t kill each other. That’s how it goes in epic mortal tales, right?”

“I knew I didn’t stand a chance.”

She laughed. “Well at least you aren’t as dumb as I thought.”

Geralt snorted and relaxed a bit. He allowed himself a long breath as he melted into Yens body. The excess heat and humidity summer turning to a crisp autumn night.

“When I first started seeing Marigold, I was terrified. You and I had managed to screw up fate’s perfect match, how was I going to find someone else? But she was insistent and I…” She trailed off.

While they had been together, they were never exclusive. Yen flitted about from realm to realm while he moved between mortal towns. She was a terrifying force of nature to most, but she had a soft spot for sweet things.

“You never were one to ignore a pretty face.” Geralt filled in.

Yen put her arm around him and cupped the swell of his breast. “No, I can’t,” She agreed. “But I usually get bored, or break it off before it gets complicated. Marigold is different. It’s quiet with her. There are no expectations, no thrilling adventures, we just love each other,” She squeezed Geralt a little tighter. “Fate cannot compare to peace.”

Geralt held her hand against his chest, “I am happy for you, Yen.”

A long moment passed, but it was a comfortable one. It was the most stillness either had experienced in a long while.

“I’ve missed you.” Yen’s voice was softer.

“Me too.” Geralt conceded. “This is nice, talking.”

“We didn’t do much of that, did we? It got in the way of all fighting.” She kissed him lightly on the back of the neck. His skin raised with goosebumps where her lips touched.

“And fucking.”

He could feel Yen roll her eyes. “And that. You seem better than when we were together. You definitely talk more.”

“I’m still not good at it.”

“Was that your bard’s work?”

Geralt stayed quiet.

“Tell me about him.” She pressed, changing the conversation.  

“There’s nothing to tell.” Geralt grumbled. “I was stupid and let him wander off into the Faewilds. It’s my responsibility to bring him back.” He had been rehearsing this answer. There had been no thought when he jumped in after Jaskier. There was no plan or reason. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for that dolt and it scared him.

Yen poked him hard in the side. “Oh cut it out. You have been trudging through the backwoods of Summer for a year and sold your soul to a Fae queen. I’m not dumb enough to believe there is nothing, but apparently you are.”

“He’s just someone I’ve known for a while.”

“How long have you been together.”

Geralt snorted. “Drop it, Yen.”

“I’m just saying, that love doesn’t have to be a hard complicated thing. Love can be built; it can be quiet. If you have found peace in that bard, then don’t turn away. You deserve happiness Geralt, we both do.”

Geralt remained silent for a long while after that. He could feel the tears stream down his face, unwanted and unbidden. He didn’t fight them. For her part, Yen didn’t say anything. She continued to hold him, resting her forehead against his back.

“He doesn’t shut up.”

“What?”

“He’s not my quiet place.”

“Go to sleep, Geralt.”

-----------------------------------------

They crossed into Spring without fanfare.

When they reached the summit the next morning, Yen wasted little time taking in the scenery. The sun was about to rise from behind a nearby peak, casting a strange glow on the valleys blanketed with a thick fog. Geralt watched as Lady Fall closed her eyes. She raised her hands and he felt the crackle of magic and the smell of tart berries and crisp apples. A rush of cold air strong blew, strong enough to knock him off the mountain top. Geralt steadied himself on a nearby rock and when the air cleared he saw that they had been transported.

No, that wasn’t right. The world looked the same. The mountains and valleys a perfect overlay to the view from before. Instead of greens of full forests and underbrush, the mountains looked sparse. Fresh yellows and pinks dotted the landscape and branches reached up from the earth. There were patches of snow covering the hillsides.

Geralt shivered.

“Where now?”

Yen smoothed her hair and shook out her wings. She looked stern. “Slow down, Witcher. This will be harder than I thought,” she remarked, ignoring him and scrunching up her face.

“What?”

“Last time I came to Spring, it was a power vacuum. It was as easy to channel chaos here as in Summer. Not now--Something is fighting me.”

That probably didn’t bode well for getting the mantel.

Yen paced. Geralt watched as she made complicated motions with her hands, clicked her tongue, and tried again. Any vulnerability she demonstrated last night was locked under a cold shell of annoyance and efficiency. For his part, Geralt stayed quiet while she worked. Spring was frigid compared to Summer and he spent considerable energy keeping his teeth from chattering. Damn he fae realms and their temperature extremes.

“The Summer Queen appoints the Fall regent, while Winter appoints Spring,” She continued after a few minutes. “I was a member of the Winter Court until the Summer Queen and I struck a deal. I suspect that the Summer Knight could have done the same thing with Winter.”  

“Shit.”

“If he is Lord Fall, we don’t stand a chance on his territory. We will be lucky if I can get us back to Summer in one piece”

Geralt looked around. The forests were unmoving below them. The only sounds came from the morning air singing through the valleys and the migratory birds honking above. Nothing appeared to have sensed their arrival.

“Where is he then?”

“Close, but we are leaving.”

“I’m getting that mantel.”

“Did you hit your head?” She blinked, incredulously, “I said that facing The Summer Knight now is a death sentence. If you die there is no hope for your bard.”

He didn’t argue. Geralt turned heel and began heading down the mountain. He could hear Yen fuming behind him. After a few moments he heard the rustling of wings as she kept pace behind him.  

   It wasn’t long until they could see the outline of a cottage against the treeline. It was a small stone structure with a thatched roof surrounded by early gardens rising from the snow.  

Geralt smelled blood on the air. The tang cut through the clearing, sharp and metallic. He drew his weapon and ran forward, taking care to keep his steps light. His senses expanded as he scanned the horizon for movement. Nothing. The small hut looked quiet, smoke still rose from the chimney, but it was terribly still.

A small puff of vapor rose from his lips as he exhaled. He could hear Yen covering his back, her magic weaker than in Summer but its energy still stung his exposed skin.

For a moment, he thought he imagined the scent. Geralt cursed. Surely the Summer Knight would be aware of them now.  His eyes caught on a flower arrangement in front of the house. No that was wrong. It was too sparse, too unnatural.

Too human.

Geralt almost dropped his blade.

The Summer Knight was dead. The mantel of summer moss and fur at his feet.

The poor bastard had been out chopping wood, the axe was still in his hand. The carcass was supported by a young pussy willow that appear to have grown through him. Thousands of tiny shoots had emerged from the snow, piercing through his legs and snaked up his limbs. Intermittently some burst forth from the skin revealing crocuses, daffodils, and lilacs.

“What is this?” Geralt, whispered under his breath. He reached out to the macabre-topiary--There was no denying it beauty. He turned away and locked eyes with Yen, “This is bad.”

“Oh, really?” Yen snapped back. “Grab the mantel and let’s get out of here. Whatever has taken Spring is here and I won’t be able to save both of us if it shows up.”

He reached down to grab the mantel and went still. Geralt could make out a shape against the tree line.

It looked like a man, tall with antlers large enough to blend into the tree branched. Glowing eyes locked to his and widened with recognition.

He lowered himself into a defensive stance, trading the mantel for his iron blade, and readied himself as the beast stumbled out of the woods

#geralt x jaskier #witcher #fanfic

[out-of-control]

OUT

PREVIOUS: RUN

NEXT: CALLS

words: 1220

warnings: none

summary: Jax asks Jim out on a date.

Jax peels a strip of dry skin away from his lip with a thumbnail.

He's leaned up against the half-wall that separates the kitchen from the living room, staring with unfocused eyes in the direction of the sink. The tiny wall blocks him from view as Jim sits on the couch, tapping away on Jax's laptop again. 

Jax wants to ask him.

He chews at the knuckle of his index finger.

But what if it's weird to ask him now?

He bites down harder.

The worst Jim can do is say no.

Of course, the concept of Jim saying no is itself terrifying. But Jax is trying to be better now, to not be so goddamned scared of stupid shit. He drops his hand and walks around the wall to stand in the living room. 

"Hey, Jim," he says, trying to sound casual. 

“What’s up?” Jim responds easily, without looking. 

Jax tucks a sidelock behind his ear. His hair is getting kind of long lately; it's annoying. 

Here goes nothing.

"Do you wanna go out to dinner sometime?"

It goes right over Jim’s head. 

“What, like for tonight? Where, the diner?”

Oy vey. Jax shoves a hand deep into his pocket, shifts his weight awkwardly to one leg. "Not tonight," he says. "I mean like. As a. Date thing."

Jim blinks up at him. “Oh.”

“We don’t have to,” Jax says, agonized. “I just thought it could be, like, nice.”

Jim quickly backtracks, shutting the laptop with both hands. “No, just– um. I’ve never been. On a date.”

Jax blinks. Now it’s his turn to say, “Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be a whole thing. I’d actually kind of prefer if it wasn’t. But I'd like to take you out." He pauses. "Well, maybe it would be having you take me out since you're the one with the car, but it's not really important, the point is that, just, I'd really like to go out, with you, as a date, so long as you also want to, but it would be fine if you don't, I just, like–” He stops.

“Okay,” Jim says quietly, and then sits up a little. “Okay, yeah. Sure. That could be nice.”

Jax feels his face break out into a smile. “Alright, then. I’ll fucking pencil it in.”

–

A few days later, Jax is fussing with his hair in the bathroom mirror. He's already dressed, in his most intact jeans and least offensive t-shirt since they're going somewhere kind of nice: a sit-down Indian place in town that Jax has wanted to try for a while. 

He grabs a fistful of hair and pulls it upright, reaching for the hairspray with his other hand, to freeze his spikes into place. Then he pauses.

He's always hated going out with his hair down; he thinks it looks dumb, for one, but it also makes him feel vulnerable in a way. A spiked mohawk sends a message. Sure, it gets you stares and sometimes shouts, but at least Jax knows he's broadcasting something on purpose. It's like armor, deflecting attention to his weird ass hair rather than anything else. 

But lately, he's been wearing his hair down a lot more, at least around the apartment. For a while it was because it was too much of a pain to do with his broken hand, and then it was kind of because he knew how much Jim liked it. Jax didn't get it, really, still doesn't, but he likes the way Jim will reach out to put his hand in Jax's hair, play with it. And he likes the way it makes Jim look at him.

Jax lets go of his hair, brushes it back when it flops into his eyes. He chews on the inside of his cheek, regarding the mirror with his hands on the lip of the sink. 

Then he steps back and walks out of the bathroom. 

"Ready," he calls.

It takes Jim a second before he emerges from the bedroom, mid-way through hardly buttoning up a black dress shirt, which is new. Between that and his old black jeans, it seems a little goth for him. That is, until he pushes his hair out of his face and Jax catches a glimpse of his pink eyeshadow. "Hi," Jim says, grinning. His eyes flick up to Jax's hair. He's blushing a little.

Jax's face feels kinda hot himself. "You look good," he says.

"You look great," Jim replies coyly.

"Had to one-up me," Jax says, shaking his head, though his chest is a little tight. He grabs his jacket off the couch and shrugs it on. "Should we go?"

Jim rolls up his sleeves– Alright, Jax thinks– before grabbing his own jacket. "Okay. Now I'm ready." He gives Jax a kiss on the cheek before going for the door.

"Hey," Jax says, heart doing a little jump as he follows Jim out. "I think you're supposed to save that for the end of the date."

Jim gives Jax a bit of a distressed look. "How am I supposed to know!"

Rather than answer, Jax simply snags Jim by the arm and pulls him into a quick kiss on the lips. Jim huffs in embarrassment, and wordlessly opens the other door for him.

–

Dinner goes well. They talk just as easily as they do at home, but something about the changed setting has Jax getting butterflies every time Jim's knee brushes his beneath the table. As they're walking back to the car, arms looped together, Jax is struck by a sudden impulse. "Can we– do you wanna stay out a bit longer?"

Jim gives him a kiss. "'Course. What do you wanna do?"  

Jax leans into Jim's side, feeling warmer than can be accounted for by the autumn air. "Dunno. You wanna just drive around?"

“Would you like to drive? Or be driven?”

"Hmm." Jax rubs his cheek against Jim's shoulder. "You be the chauffeur."

“Hmm. You just wanna stare at me, huh.”

"Yeah, maybe," Jax murmurs. 

Jim laughs and opens the passenger door for Jax. “Milady.” 

"Shut up," Jax says, though in reality he kind of likes it. He slides onto the seat, and as Jim steers back out into the street, Jax reaches over and turns the radio on.

"Anywhere in particular?" Jim asks, and Jax shakes his head. 

The roads aren't very busy; street lamps cast everything in shades of pale yellow. Jax keeps the window rolled down, one arm hanging out, until it's too cold to be comfortable. As he's rolling it up, he looks over at Jim: a single finger keeping a beat on the steering wheel, pink eyeshadow shimmering dimly, and one pale green eye lit up like a shard of sea glass as the rearview briefly reflects the headlights of the car behind them. He looks very handsome, though Jax finds himself wishing he could see Jim's scars from this angle. There'll be time for that, though.

A car in the right lane speeds ahead of them, the blazing red eye of its taillight leaving a streak like a comet in Jax's vision as it passes.

With Jim's hands steady on the wheel, Jax drums his fingers lightly against his thigh and thinks there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

#words

[malevolententity]

WOE PROJECT 6 BE UPON YE

every day my patience with pattern markers grows thin. i can and will write essays about this franken pattern project that i Am calling done for now but i might do some more work on in the future. SO this is two patterns of the same concept that ive put together because i was not going to fully reset because the first pattern was absolute ass. i truly do not know if the issue was with me or the pattern as they would call for stitches and then tell you how to do the stitch and it was a different stitch! and i made sure it wasnt a uk vs us terms issue but i still had issues! the dud coaster is the darker blue one my mug is pictured on i like how after a lot of trial and error i got the flowers to look flowerish but idk not a big fan of it waaaay to much effort trying to make the stitches work that ill never work it up again. the basket is very pretty honestly but to actually hold the coasters ive had to stuff it with all my yarn scraps that m hoping to one day maybe turn into my own cobbled together yarn? because without the stuffing it just collapses from the weight of the coasters which is why! this project may not be done as there is another basket tutorial m looking at (that goes with the other 2 coasters i made) that based on how it looks is flatter and might hold the coasters much better. but that is definitely a thing ill work up down the road and Probably not tomorrow as i do adore the little basket i have now. AND SPEAKING OF THE TWO OTHER COASTERS i love the flower pattern the whole coaster was a time sink because of how the leaves must be worked but it was so very worth it. from project 3 (tarot sleeve) i still have a skein and a half of that red and purple that if i ever work up more of this specific flower pattern i might see what that yarn gives me! although most likely ill just find another flower pattern to try (theres a tulip one m interested in) so that every coaster is a different flower and looks the most like a bouquet as i can get. unfortunately i used acrylic yarn so i am loathe to use these with hot mugs but time shall tell with the shit coaster if i can use it with hot mugs long term!

also this project took roughly 6 hours with all the frogging trying to make the original pattern work and in generally learning 3 new patterns! (last hour and a half from episode 5 all the way to an hour into episode 7)

season 2 thoughts so far

dude can the lil guys just get a break? joui almost died AGAIN BUT LIKE A DEATH SAVE HAD TO HAPPEN LIKE BRUH LEAVE HIM ALONE FSDJKHFS arthur has had the worst fucking time and honestly i would not be surprised if towards the end of the season he does a suicide run because hes lost everything and everyone but ivete and idk if thats enough to keep him from going insane. i just. i dont know how to put episode 6 into words besides that i am soooo glad to have made it out of that episode because it was Heavy. episode 7 has been chill for the most part. they kept talking about sucking hoses. they kept saying various party members needed to strip to prove they were gonna start trying to shoot each other again. pretty normal table top hijinks and a good place to end for the night/the project.

i honestly have no idea what m making next. part of me Wants to try making a cardigan but all i have is acrylic which is itchy. and i def dont have the skeins for a whole cardigan plus cardigans i feel like would take minimum 22 hours? and i dont really. wanna have a 20+ hour single project. i like my current insanity of having done like 40ish hours of projects this past month and none of them going over 10 hours (besides the wretched bag). time to go through my ravelry in a few days time and see if anything jumps as being interesting or if m gonna have to spin a wheel to pick a project.

#a ordem crochet #shedueling this to post sometime midday as i finished writting it up at like midnight and just. no. i am not posting a midnight update #it took like an hour to write this up yall #fiber art

[pinermorning]

Nested bean zen swaddle premier orange dots

It is this first had experience that led us to the creation of the Zen Swaddle. Each member of the Nested Bean team has experienced the joys and the challenges, the milestones and the tears that come with raising small children. It's natural to feel moments of uncertainty as you learn your baby's cry cues, eating habits and sleep patterns. This item Nested Bean Zen Swaddle - Gently Weighted Swaddle Baby: 0-6 Months Helps to Reduce Moro (Startle) Reflex Unisex TOG 1. and a little anxiety inducing! There's so much to discover about caring for your new little one. YOUR STORY IS OUR STORY We know that bringing your new baby home is wonderful. All materials are BPA, toxic and Phthalate free. SAFETY The Zen Swaddle exceeds safety standards. The weighted pads are filled with non-toxic poly beads, the same as you find in children's stuffed toys. MATERIAL Made from 70% Rayon from Bamboo and 30% pure Cotton for a luxuriously soft feel for your baby's tender skin, it is washer and dryer safe. SIZING Two sizes in one lasts twice as long - a small interior to keep your baby's legs snug during the first few weeks the extra-long sack provides additional leg room as your baby grows from 0-6 months. Moms who have used the Zen Swaddle Blanket say their babies get up to two additional hours of nighttime sleep within one to three nights. Based on the medically proven benefits of touch, the Zen Swaddle includes lightly weighted areas on both the center (where your palm would go) and sides (where your arms would go) to simulate the feeling of being held. Your reassuring touch can signal comfort, security and love to your baby, allowing them to calm and sleep peacefully the weighted Zen Swaddle duplicates that sensation. We offer customized tips to help you!ĭESIGN The lightly weighted and adjustable Zen Swaddle from Nested Bean allows your baby to feel like they are sleeping in your arms. SATISFACTION GUARANTEE - If at any point in time - for whatever reason - you should be dissatisfied with the Zen Swaddle - don’t hesitate to contact us.The ability to swaddle with arms out or in makes it perfect for transitioning when the time comes IMPORTANT FEATURES - The double strips & large fastening zone make the Zen Swaddle adjustable, ergonomic and easy to use.To learn more about weight distribution, sizes, care instructions please check the product images PRODUCT INFO - The Zen Sawddle Premier is made from 70% rayon from bamboo and 30% cotton and has a TOG rating of 1 which means it is breathable for hot summer days & nights.Also, allows babies to sleep in their arms in/out/free position for self soothing MADE FOR BABIES FROM 0 to 6 MONTHS - The innovative 2 sizes in 1 design means this baby wrap lasts twice as long as regular swaddles.Parents report longer sleep in 1-3 nights. Helping babies to self soothe & sleep through the night when not in your arms. HELP YOUR BABY SLEEP LONGER - Our gently weighted Zen Swaddle mimics the pressure your baby feels when held by you.When they're too big for their legs in the pocket, they go into the main foot swaddle area. I also love how it grows with them, the zen swaddle has a small pocket inside the bottom for when they're smaller. I really enjoy and recommend this product. I do not put him to bed without it and I get a lot more rest now. He still loves to be snuggled and held and is kind of grumpy during the day, but night times are easy now. He was a little fussier the second night, but after night 3, I have a totally different baby. (Feeling loved and comforted goes a long way with babies) the first night I used it he slept for 5 hours without waking. We use a similar concept in our neonates, to trick them into thinking they're being held. I decided to get the zen swaddle to try to get a little more rest for myself at night. All my children have been breastfed and looks to be really close to me/ held while sleeping. My most recent baby is turning 6 weeks old tomorrow. I'm a Pediatric ICU nurse and mother of four

#Nested bean zen swaddle premier orange dots