#I love drawing the shadows on his face it's my favorite part

[tokkosoap]

Not sure what my thought process was but I just wanted an excuse to draw Kurt(hes my fav to draw)

#x men #x men 97 #kurt wagner #nightcrawler #xmen meme #I love drawing the shadows on his face it's my favorite part #Literally gonna throw my phone because tumblr wont put the images in the right order #Just pretend you're looking at them in the right order #shitpost

[xxspringmelodyxx]

Satoru sat nervously at a corner table in the quaint café, fiddling with his coffee cup as he stole glances at the girl across from him. She was animatedly discussing her favorite book, her eyes sparkling with passion. Satoru found himself captivated by her enthusiasm, her words weaving a tapestry of imagination and wonder.

Yet, amidst her lively chatter, Satoru couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of your absence. Your memory lingered like a ghost in the air, casting a shadow over his newfound happiness. He tried to push aside the guilt that gnawed at him, but it clung to him like a stubborn shadow.

Certain things the girl did, her mannerisms, her laughter, it all reminded him of you. His mind began to drift back to memories of you – your laughter echoing in the corners of his mind, the soft touch of your hand, the warmth of your embrace, your gentle kisses, all of it. He could still hear the sound of your voice, gentle and soothing, like a melody that once filled his days with joy.

The girl’s laughter interrupted his reverie, drawing him back to the present. She smiled at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she leaned forward, her enthusiasm contagious. “Isn’t it amazing?” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with excitement. “The way words can transport you to another world?”

Satoru nodded, offering a faint smile in return. “Yeah, it’s… it’s incredible,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He wanted to immerse himself in her enthusiasm, to lose himself in the magic of her words. But a part of him couldn’t shake the feeling that he was betraying you, that he was moving on too soon.

The girl tilted her head, her gaze softening as she studied him. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice gentle and concerned. “You seem… distant.”

Satoru forced a smile, trying to push aside the turmoil churning inside him. “I’m fine,” he replied, his voice barely concealing the tremor of uncertainty. “Just… lost in thought, I guess.”

Suddenly, after he spoke those six words, it was as if everything went still, like time stopped completely. Satoru didn’t seem to notice, his eyes still locked on his coffee cup. That was until he heard a voice he never thought he would hear again.

”Hello, my love~” You said, your voice echoing throughout the room.

Satoru’s gaze swiftly shifted, and there, across from him, he beheld your apparition seated beside the girl. Your eyes, brimming with love and understanding, met his, casting a spectral presence amidst the ordinary ambiance of the café. You appeared like an angel descended from above, adorned with a radiant glow enveloping your form, your hair and eyes as resplendent as he remembered. Truly, you were ethereal in every sense.

Your presence was unmistakable, your soul reaching out to him across the void to deliver a message of love and acceptance.

Satoru's breath caught in his throat as he looked into your eyes, not sure how this was happening. But all he knew was that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, your presence a bittersweet reminder of the love he had lost and the pain that still lingered within him.

He reached out a trembling hand, wanting to touch you, to feel the warmth of your presence one last time. Tears welled in Satoru’s eyes as he whispered your name, a prayer on his lips. “Y/n…”

You smiled up at him, holding your hand out for him to grab. His fingers quickly laced with yours, a warm and comforting feeling running all through his body as he felt your touch once more.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you, my sweet Toru~” You spoke softly, caressing his face from across the table.

Tears were overflowing his face, his heart breaking every second that passed as he felt you.

”Wh-what are you doing here? H-How are you even here?” He questioned, but you just bring his hand up to your lips, giving him a quick peck.

”Do not worry about that, my love. There are other important matters I want to talk to you about before I take my leave.” You finished, caressing your thumb over the back of his hand.

”Leave? No, please, don’t leave me again, Y/n. I…I can’t live without you. I miss you so much.” He begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled softly at him, a soft chuckle emitting from your lips. ”I will never leave you, Toru,” you replied, your smile never faltering. “I’ll always be with you, in your heart and in your memories. And wherever you go, whatever you do, I’ll be watching over you, guiding you along the way.”

Your presence lingered, even as Satoru’s attention turned back to the girl sitting across from him. He couldn’t help but notice how her eyes sparkled with genuine warmth and kindness, how her laughter filled the air with joy. And yet, despite her charms, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she paled in comparison to you.

As he looked back at you, your hands still intertwined, he felt a pang of guilt wash over him. How could he move on with someone else when his heart still belonged to you?

“She seems nice,” you spoke, your voice soft and gentle.

Satoru nodded, his throat tightening with emotion. “She is, but she’s nothing like you, Y/n. I…I think I need to cut ties with her before it’s too late. I can’t imagine going out with someone else who isn’t you,” he admitted, tears still falling down his face.

You smiled again, your touch like a soothing balm on his wounded heart. Gently, you leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss against his tear-stained cheek.

“Toru,” you whispered, your voice filled with love and understanding. “It’s okay to let go. It’s okay to find happiness again, even if it’s in someone else’s arms. I want you to be happy, more than anything in this world. I mean, It’s been five years since I’ve passed…it’s time for you to embrace the life that awaits you. You deserve to be happy, to find love and joy once more.”

Satoru shook his head, unable to accept the truth of your words. “But how can I move on without you? You were everything to me, Y/n. Without you, I’m lost.”

Your smile softened, a gentle reassurance in your eyes. “You were and still are my everything too, Toru. But love is not confined to the boundaries of this world. It transcends time and space, connecting us in ways that defy understanding.”

As your words sank in, Satoru felt a glimmer of hope flicker to life within him. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to honor your memory while still embracing the future that lay ahead.

“But what if I forget you?” he whispered, his voice tinged with fear.

You shook your head, giggling a bit, your hand tightening around his. “You could never forget me, Toru. I will always be a part of you, woven into the fabric of your being. And no matter where life takes you, my love will always be there to guide you.”

Satoru’s heart ached at your words, torn between his longing for you and his desire to move forward. But as he looked into your eyes, he saw nothing but love and acceptance, a silent blessing for the path he had yet to tread.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way, my love. But I cannot change what has happened. What I can do is help you find your peace. And help you realize that no matter what, I will be waiting for you on the other side with open arms when its your time. But for now,” You began, slowly fading away, your form dissolving into the stillness that surrounded them. You grabbed his face and looked deep into his eyes, going in for one last kiss.

“It’s time to move on and be happy again~”

Satoru watched you go, his heart heavy with sorrow yet buoyed by a newfound sense of peace.

”I love you, Y/n~” He whispered as he felt your hand disappear.

”I love you, my Toru. Forever and always~” You finished as you finally disappeared into thin air.

After your ethereal presence faded away, leaving Satoru with a bittersweet ache in his heart, the world around him slowly began to stir back to life. Time resumed its steady march forward, the hustle and bustle of the café gradually filling the air once more.

Satoru blinked, his gaze drifting from the empty space where you had been sitting to the girl across from him. She watched him with concern, her eyes reflecting the warmth and compassion that had drawn him to her in the first place.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft with genuine concern.

Satoru nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah," he replied, his voice steady. "Yeah, I think I am."

And with those words, he reached out to her, his hand finding hers in the space between them.

As they talked, the café buzzed with life around them, the clink of cups and the murmur of conversation blending into a comforting backdrop. And in that moment, Satoru realized that he wasn’t just sharing a cup of coffee with a girl – he was opening his heart to the possibility of a new beginning.

And as they sat there, hands entwined, Satoru realized that he wasn't just letting go of his grief – he was embracing the possibility of a future filled with love and happiness, guided by the memory of the one he had lost but never forgotten.

He looked out the window, seeing your figure once more with a bright smile on your face as you saw him learning to move on.

“Until we meet again, my love~” You whispered, disappearing back to the afterlife.

_____________________

Currently crying and throwing up after writing this T.T

#jjk imagines #gojo imagine #angst #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk x you #gojo satoru fluff #jjk angst #gojo saturo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo angst #satoru angst #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jjk #satoru imagine

[7ndipity]

Mornings/Evenings With Jimin

Jimin x Reader

Summary: just some headcanons and a lil blurb about morning/evening moments w Jimin

Warnings, lil suggestive, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to my lovely Star anon who requested this! It's a lil random, but I hope you'll still like it!

Masterlist

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Mornings with Jimin tend to actually start more in the afternoon, due to his slanted sleep schedule, but they’re still cozy nonetheless.

He’s very slow to wake, burying his face in your back or neck as he clings to sleep for just a little longer.

“Five more minutes.” “You said that fifteen minutes ago.” “I mean it this time.”

Once you get up, he usually follows suit, albeit reluctantly.

He’s basically your shadow for the first little bit, trailing after you to the kitchen to help make breakfast(though he mostly just clings to you and steals part of your coffee)

Most days, when things are more rushed and you’re both just trying to get out the door on time, he makes a point to stop for a few seconds, pulling you to follow suit if he has to, meeting your eyes for a moment before giving you a sweet kiss.

It’s a little thing, but sometimes those ten seconds are the only moments you get to have together during the day, and so he makes sure to never miss them.

Evenings are much slower and quieter, again partly due to how late his schedules tend to be.

A lot of nights, you’re already in bed by the time he gets home, and so he quietly runs through his evening routine before slipping under the covers with you.

On the nights when you’re both still awake and able to spend more time together make him so happy, even if it’s just getting ready for bed together. He loves those quiet little moments with you.

Sleepily brushing your teeth together, him leaning against you when he feels extra tired.

He’s said before that it takes him a while to fall asleep, so I see him really enjoying just laying in bed talking about the day's events with you. Words just flow a lot easier when he’s buried in the pillows with you.

Tbh, his bed is one of his favorite places. He loves any excuse for you to just lay together, talking about anything and everything, without having to worry about work or schedules, just you and him being your most true, relaxed selves.

At the end of the day, nothing else matters to him, so long as he gets to fall asleep next to you.

Jimin nuzzled in close to you as he climbed into bed as quietly as possible, his hands creeping along your curves.

It was well past midnight, the room dimly lit by the bedside lamp you’d left on before falling asleep.

“Y/n.” He whispered, his breath brushing over the exposed skin of your neck, raising goosebumps.

“Chim, quit it, ‘m tired.” You mumbled sleepily, trying feebly to shake his hands off.

“I’m not trying to start anything, Angel, ” He promised, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I just need my goodnight kiss before I go to sleep.”

If your eyes had been open, you might have rolled them at him. You played along though, rolling over so he could reach your lips more easily, feeling his arms instantly wrap around you tightly.

He quickly connected his mouth to yours, swallowing your quiet squeak of surprise at his intensity, his lips moving slowly but firmly against yours.

You shivered as he slipped one hand beneath the fabric of your pajama top, the cool contrast of his fingers causing goosebumps to raise on your warm skin, the other coming to cradle the back of your head, drawing you closer.

All too soon, he pulled away, staring down at you with dark eyes.

“Better?” You asked, slightly breathless.

“Mmh, thank you.” He hummed, pecking your lips a few more times.

You were acutely aware of his hands still on you, his fingers digging into your side, causing you to squirm slightly beneath him, earning a questioning look from him.

“I thought you said you were tired?” He asked, giving you a knowing smirk.

“Things change.” You replied, pulling him back down to you.

He chuckled against your lips, kissing you for another long moment, before pulling back again.

“It’s late, you need sleep.” He said softly, shifting the two of you to rest more comfortably, pulling you to rest against his chest.

“Tease.” You grumbled, furthering his amusement.

“Love you too.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard

#jimin scenarios #jimin headcanons #jimin blurb #jimin fluff #jimin x y/n #jimin x reader #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts headcanons #bts blurbs #bts requests #bts scenarios #bts reaction #bts reactions #bts fluff #7ndipity #⭐anon

[greenlikethesea]

@sparklyslug and I commissioned the incredible @mardyart to draw a pivotal scene from our fic, Three Weddings and a Funeral, a part in our currently sprawling universe Let us Dwell in Fair Ithilien and There Make a Garden. For those who have read, you might recognize this as a scene from the third chapter, post [redacted] funeral, where Steve and Eddie have a conversation in the Byers-Hopper kitchen about what is deserved.

Thank you so much for this beautiful art, Mardy. We’re so unbelievably thrilled with the finished product, and we couldn’t be happier. You’re the best!

Referenced fic excerpt under the cut, for context!

 “Oh Joyce, love of my life,” Eddie says to himself, removing several pints of Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer and lining them up on the kitchen counter. Without even asking Steve for his preference, he wordlessly hands Steve the almost full pint of Cherry Garcia. He just knows which one is his favorite, apparently, which shouldn’t surprise Steve as much as it does. “Do you think it’s too soon to propose to her?”

 “I see your stance on asking people out at funerals has changed,” Steve remarks, ignoring the swoop in his stomach at Eddie’s (playful, completely not serious, Joyce is their mom) suggestion.

 “First of all, post-funeral is fair game,” Eddie says as he gets out two bowls and two spoons; he, like Steve, knows this kitchen like the back of his hand. Even knows where to find a jar of apparently unopened maraschino cherries, theatrically blowing the dust off the lid into Steve’s face, who in return theatrically coughs and gags. After a slight pause, he takes the pint of Cherry Garcia out of Steve’s hand and sets to making a little sundae for him. Steve can only dumbly watch as Eddie gives him two scoops and presses down on them so they’re a little softer, just how Steve likes it, adding a brusquely effective swirl of whipped cream, cherries on top, before handing it back to him. In Steve’s professional opinion, it’s a Scoops Ahoy-worthy performance. Makes him kind of wish the outfit was involved, mmm.

 “Secondly,” Eddie says, Steve doing a quick mental scramble away from the vision of Eddie in blue striped shorts and back towards whatever the hell they had been talking about, “I’m pretty sure a sexless marriage is out of the question for her, so it would be a swift no.” He’s less formal with his own ice cream prep, simply jamming a spoon into his own tub (Phish Food, which is just so typically him), whipped cream and cherries apparently forgotten.

 “She deserves better than that,” Steve says now, years later, chasing a stray cherry around the side of his bowl with his spoon. “And so do you.”

 Eddie gives Steve a look, a little bit of humor and a little bit of apprehension and a bit of evaluation. And something so unsurprised, too, a kind of fond      Jesus H Christ, of course smile manifesting just through the shadow of a dimple, not quite making itself entirely seen.

 “I know,” Eddie says simply. The quiet confidence of a man who does know what he deserves, does know that he can and should be desired. Treasured. And get what he wants. And who is, maybe, a little surprised that Steve knows that too.

 Steve pops the maraschino cherry between his teeth, flavor exploding at the back of his tongue, just this shy of too syrupy-sweet, as he looks at Eddie’s face. He can feel it coming in, then. The way he’s heard that the water pulls all the way back far as the eye can see, before a tsunami comes rushing back in. Has a sense of what’s heading his way, in the time that it takes for Eddie to shake his head ruefully and continue, taking his eyes off Steve’s face in an uncharacteristically indirect move. One of only a handful of times Steve can think of, when Eddie hasn’t looked frank and fearless into Steve’s eyes.

 “You do too,” Eddie says to his bowl with quiet ferocity, and follows it with a spoonful of ice cream so quickly that it’s like he’s trying to stuff the words back in. Cover up the evidence with Ben&Jerry’s finest.

I love him, Steve thinks, the hundred-foot high wave coming in. Less devastating of a natural disaster, but sure as shit knocking him off his feet and sending him spinning. Hey, Eddie. I love you.  

#steddie #mardyart #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanart #steddie fanart #fair ithilien verse

[wr0wn]

How do u draw Leon's eyes + brows? I have some difficulty and I love the way you draw em, do you mind explaining to us?

First of all!! Thank you so much

I'm not an expert, and really don't know what I'm talking about BUT

He has deep sited eyes, so his eyebrows cast a pretty heavy shadow, as you can see on the references. It depends on the lighting, but I think this heavy shadow is a really nice defining feature of his face.

Also, his eyebrows are tilted in a little scowl.

Pay attention to his "heavy" eyelid shape.

And of course, eye bags!!

So, using this understanding, i try my best to apply it to my work.

His eyes are my favorite part of drawing him, and I struggle with them a lot, too!

Hope this helps!!

[heartfullofleeches]

How would Host react if one day I decided to dress up as and mimic him for a show

Just what are you up to today?

As a consumer of tricks and mischief himself, Host could tell you had a few up your sleeve from the smirk in your eyes down to the tiny hiccups between each word as you asked him to keep all eyes off your dressing room today. Cute. He decided to play along as he had full trust you wouldn't run off, and only a monster would resist such a harmless and innocent request. He was a tad disappointed to hear you wouldn't be there to start the show, but as long as you were there by its climax it'd be yet another smash hit. Host figured he'd do his part and hype up the crowd for your arrival. He hasn't been this excited since that corrupt politician you brought on the other week. His tie is grey today. That's an interesting development

The curtains draw and Host steps out on stage, welcomed by the cheers and appulse of your crowd. They're a rowdy lot today - right off the bat. What's got them so livened up already?

"Good-Day, Folks. Welcome to another exciting episode of your favorite show -"

"With your favorite host!"

Host taps his mic. He wasn't used to feedback unless for comedic effect. The crowd cheers and hollers all the same from the combined greeting - and from the unsteady click of heels on the title floor Host knew he was no longer alone. He twists his head to look back at the figure emerging from the cover of shadows - microphone in hand.

"Well, Well - what's this now? Surprised to see me?"

A confident smirk dawns their face; stride as professional and flashy as their bandaged eyes could lead guided by two stage hands. Their usual flare swapped out with a grey business suit. Hair slicked back to the best of their capabilities and voice carrying that boastful charm. His copy walks up to him, halted by one of their helpers. They whisper something in their ear and the copy's smile grows.

"If it isn't my doppelganger. Handsome devils, aren't we?"

Host does a doubletake at your attire; camera zoomed in on you from all angles. Posture to dress - you were a spitting image; eyes wrapped up with some bandages to complete his signature look. Feeling the relentless stares you've grown accustomed to, you tilt your head up at him. You swap your mic with his as you saulter over to his desk, kicking your feet up on the table as you take your seat. Your left leg missing the table due to your altered sight, but you pick yourself back up and swing it over your right.

"That's better. These shoes are killing me. Speaking of which, how are our dear guests?."

The stage goes dead quiet. Not even a whisper, or an awkward cough to clear the air. You lift your hand up to remove the bandages.

"Haha..."

Host's chest rises with a breath.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA."

He keels over, clutching his ribcage as he bellows a pitched laugh perfectly synced with the millions of voices in the crowd. He laughs harder, bending to his knees as he squeezes his chest tighter and tighter til theirs a faint crack!. He snickers; practically wheezing as he tries to get out a single word between his fit of hysterics. He scrapes black mucus from the corners of his mouth, shoulders bouncing with a silent giggle as he rises and stumbles over in your direction.

"Y/n... Your performance.. It's so spectacular, it's moved me to tears! I knew I picked the most excellent show host in the biz. I haven't laughed that hard in ages. I think I've fallen in love all over again! I knew you'd always upstage me, but if there's anyone who could successfully steal my show - it's you."

The overhead lights blind you as he carefully peals the wrappings from your face. "But if I can make one request, do be a me solid and don't cover up these pretty eyes of yours. Can't have a good show if every part of you isn't accounted for, and you'll need them to see the faces on our dear guests when we bring them out. Today, more than any, we'll knock'em for sure. I look forward to your full act."

#yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere scenarios #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere #Host my oc #yandere god #yandere teratophilia #soft yandere

[rinixo]

ashamed

Din Djarin/Reader | 5.9k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, PIV sex, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, oral sex, reader is blindfolded, vague breeding kink, themes of religious doubt re: the creed

'I have always felt ashamed at being witnessed in the act of wanting something I could not have.' - Jennifer S. Cheng

Part 2 to Someday

a/n: wanted to play around with the ‘struggling between your faith and your lust’ trope with Din and Reader. All the mythology/constellation stuff I made up.

read on ao3

“See that star there? It’s called Tasale, in basic. It makes up the heart of the constellation Thaiell.”

Grogu looked up to where you were pointing. The two of you were crouched on the ground under the dark sky, your backs to the small campfire set up just a short distance away. Din was sitting near the flames, poking at it now and again as he listened to you talk about constellations with his kid.

The three of you had settled in for the evening after finishing a short scouting mission. After supper, you had noticed Grogu’s gaze following sparks from the fire floating up into the night and had started pointing out different astronomical bodies to the curious child. You had even pulled out a small telescope and set it up low enough for Grogu to peer through the viewfinder.

“Thaiell is a figure in ancient Naboo mythology,” you explained as Grogu made a small squeak of acknowledgment. “There are tales of when she was a young mortal priestess. She fell in love with a knight after he rescued her from a terrible monster that was attacking her temple.” You moved the telescope slightly to focus elsewhere.

“You can’t see it from where we are here, but on Naboo, I’d be able to show you the full constellation,” you continued. “The most famous tale talks about how she gave up her life at the temple to travel with her beloved, only to die tragically,” Grogu whined at your retelling, and you patted his back gently. “I know, it’s sad. But she’s always been my favorite constellation.”

“Why is it your favorite?” Din asked from where he sat behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you shot him a small smile.

“It’s a little embarrassing,” you laughed. “You see, Tasale is two stars - a binary system People say that they represent the heart of Thaiell and the heart of her beloved, eternally rotating aside one another. I guess I just think it’s romantic.”

“Patu,” Grogu tapped your knee, drawing your attention back to him. You shrugged at Din, smiling shyly from your confession, and went back to showing the child the stars.

Less than an hour later, Grogu had his fill of stargazing and had fallen asleep in your lap, snuggled against your stomach. You had moved back towards the fire as he dozed off, and sat opposite Din, watching the way the flames reflected an orange glow in his armor.

It had been a few weeks since you had left the small forested planet where you had met Tineke and Galina, and not once had either you or Din mentioned the intimate evening you had shared. You had woken up alone, wrapped up in the sheets, wondering if it had just been a pleasurable dream. The soreness between your thighs and in your jaw had proven that it had not been. You had met up with Din and a still-sleeping Grogu and journeyed back to the Crest in the misty pre-dawn light, and after punching in some coordinates it had been business as usual.

The two of you had skirted around any topics relating to that night and any hint of attraction you harbored for each other. The long silences in the cockpit had an air of tension in them - feelings said and unsaid.

At one point, you had gathered enough bravery to approach him one late-night cycle. You met him in the galley as he was tidying something up, placing a hand softly on his vambrace. He had paused, and gently pulled away from you, and you had left it at that.

“He liked looking at the stars,” Din said quietly, breaking you out of your thoughts. You looked down at Grogu’s sleeping face, the shadow of a smile on your lips.

“He did,” you agreed. “He certainly is becoming more and more Mandalorian.” You had heard Din explaining the tenets of the creed to his foundling on several occasions, imparting the knowledge he’d need to know to make his way in the galaxy. To his credit, and belying his young age, Grogu paid apt attention to his father’s teachings about navigating and traveling. Your expertise may be more theoretical than Din’s, but if what you could share with him was useful, you were happy to do so.

“I’m glad he is taking an interest in learning,” Din commented. “It’s…not an easy life.”

“So you’ve said,” you replied softly. “But Grogu has chosen a good role model, I think.”

“Have you met other Mandalorians?” Din queried, and you laughed.

“No,” you conceded. “But if they’re even half as impressive as you, then…” you trailed off, suddenly feeling shy. Across from you, Din had stilled in his prodding of the coals. The flames had died down, the fire barely more than embers at this point.

You had just been about to compliment Din, but after his silence and non-acknowledgment of your feelings from weeks ago, you stopped yourself. If your relationship was never going to progress any further, then perhaps it was best to stifle those feelings to save yourself from further heartbreak.

“You should sleep,” Din said lowly. “We’ll be off as soon as dawn arrives.”

Swallowing roughly, you nodded. Rising, still clutching Grogu to your chest, you returned to your bunk on the Crest. Deciding to snuggle with the sleeping baby rather than place him back in his cradle, you drifted off to sleep, finding comfort in the soft breaths of the tiny being in your arms.

—

Din waited a while before returning to the ship himself, wanting to wait enough time for you to fall asleep. He watched the coals die through his visor, musing on your short conversation.

The enormity of his desire for you frightened him. He could still remember how it felt to hold your soft body against his armored one like it was just moments ago. He desperately wished that he could feel you with more than just his bare hands, struggling between his dedication to his creed and his hunger for you. He felt a tinge of shame of how he had palmed himself to several releases over the past couple of weeks, remembering the heat of your mouth on him and the clutch of you on his fingers.

He thought back to his earlier promise - someday - and felt a twinge of regret. How could he promise something he wasn’t sure he could give? He had never struggled to keep to his code until he met you. Something about you stirred feelings in him he didn’t think he could have. If it was just lust, that one time would have satisfied it. No matter how much he tried, however, he could not get you out of his head.

Dropping sand over the coals, he sighed and returned up to the ship. He should have just gone to his bed, but he was pulled yet again to where you were. Your soft breathing indicated that you were out. He watched your sleeping form, curled protectively around his child, and something in him shifted.

Maybe there was a way to satisfy his need for you while adhering to the creed. Knowing he was not going to be able to sleep before parsing it out, he stomped up to the cockpit to meditate on the situation.

—

You woke up hours later, wincing at a soreness in your arm. It was bent funny, from where you had held Grogu next to you during your rest. The child was gone, and you blinked slowly and yawned before rising yourself.

The hull of the ship was quiet and empty, and you saw that the hatch was down. You could see sunlight streaming in, and as you changed into a clean set of clothes you wondered where Din had landed your little trio. You hadn’t gotten a chance to ask him, and he hadn’t asked your opinion on the next destination.

As if your thoughts had summoned him, the man stepped up into the ship - his kid noticeably absent. Pulling a light parka over your head, you shook out your hair and looked around for your shoes.

“Where is Grogu?” You inquired as Din began grabbing various things out of the storage compartments in his ship. Rations, water packs, necessities like that. Was he going on a hunt?

“With a friend,” Din answered. “He’ll be safe there.”

You frowned, confused. “Ok,” you said slowly. “But what about me?”

Din turned to you, handing you your empty pack. “You’ll be with me,” he said simply. “Pack up. Just enough for a day or two.”

Taking the pack, you looked at it dumbly, still confused. You rarely joined Din on his bounties - you were not trained in combat and would only be a liability. You usually stayed behind, running calculations or translating texts, Grogu babbling at your side until Din returned. You often joked you were an extremely overqualified babysitter, which you were sure Din rolled his eyes at.

“It’s ok,” Din said softly, noticing your expression. It almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself of his own statement, and your stomach knotted. The irrational part of you wondered if he was going to take you out into the desert and leave you for dead. You quickly squashed those thoughts, chastising yourself. Din hadn’t given you any reason not to trust him yet - and you hadn’t given him a reason to distrust you in turn. You had come to understand that he often left out details not because he wasn’t willing to share, but because he was used to doing everything on his own. You hoped this was just another one of those situations, where you’d find out his plans once he decided you needed to know.

Nodding, you turned and began to pack some basics, just missing a relieved sigh from the armored man as he continued his own packing.

—

A while later, you cursed the strain in your calves as you followed Din up a narrow, rocky trail. He had taken you on quite the hike - up and over low volcanic hills, covered in lava rock and plush layers of moss and other plant life. You realized that you were on Nevarro after seeing the spaceport in the distance. You knew Din had history here, and people he considered allies, but it still didn’t explain what in the hell was going on or why you were there.

Rounding the top of the hill, you paused to catch your breath. A warm breeze twisted lazily around you, and you scanned the horizon waiting for your energy to return.

“We’re almost there,” Din called, already several paces ahead of you. He pointed to the next rocky cliff, a couple hundred yards away. “It’s just behind there.”

“What is?” You cried out for the nth time. “Pirate hideout? Hidden cache?”

“You’ll see,” was his enigmatic reply, and you huffed before continuing behind him loyally.

The slight smell of sulfur hit your sense with the next breeze, and you scrunched your face up at the sensation. Ahead of you, Din disappeared around a rocky outcrop, and you hoisted your pack up over your shoulder and hurried to join him.

Rounding a sharp, porous cliff, you ran right into his back. He steadied you with a firm arm, shifting so that you could see around him and down into a small valley.

Steam rose in plumes, shifting in the late afternoon light. Geothermal springs bubbled and hissed below you, surrounding a small building set into the volcanic cliffs. Greenery decorated the ferrocrete structure, ivy and other creeping vines draping beautifully over its brutalist exterior. Your mouth opened into a small ‘o’, and you looked up at Din with wide eyes.

“It’s for you,” he said. “A place to relax, for a little while.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you sputtered. This was the last thing you were expecting to see, or receive. Your own private hot spring bungalow? You were expecting a cave or some other kind of damp hole you’d be crawling through in search of some criminal fugitive or piece of ancient pottery. “How did you come across a place like this?”

“Karga - the magistrate,” he clarified. “He owed me a favor.”

You frowned. “Din, I can’t take your favor. That’s not fair.”

He shrugged, continuing down the hill. “You need a break. Just enjoy it.”

—

The sun set a few hours later, and you lounged on the small porch, sipping on a cool drink. You had spent an almost unhealthy amount of time bathing in the springs, the warm water soothing aches you didn’t even realize you had. Din had busied himself elsewhere during that time - you had insisted that he also take the time to relax a little bit. The building wasn’t terribly large, but it was enough so that the two of you had privacy from one another.

You had half-expected him to dip out once you reached the building, and it had seemed like it was on his mind too. He had hovered just inside the doorway as you explored, and it wasn’t until you had gestured for him to come inside that he crossed the threshold. Almost like he was waiting for your permission.

The setting sun cast an orange light over the hills, making the bubbling springs look like pools of lava. You smiled, rubbing your calves lazily. There had been some lovely oils and creams set out, and you had picked the one you liked the smell of most to rub into your skin. The scent of medicinal spices and flowers filled your senses, all of it combining into quite a calming atmosphere. It almost reminded you of the bathhouses back on Naboo - except much more private.

“How was it?” Din’s voice greeted you, and you looked over your shoulder to see him carrying a stack of wood towards a small fire pit set into the ferrocrete floor.

“It was wonderful,” you gushed. “You should give them a try before we leave. I’ll go inside so you can get the full experience.”

“I might,” Din mused, arranging the wood and setting it alight. He settled on a small seat, hands crossed in front of him. You scooted over to join him closer to the flames.

“I really appreciate this,” you professed. “Though…I’m still a little confused. I hope you know I don’t expect things like this.” While you knew your life of relative peace and luxury was vastly different from his own, you had felt like you had settled quite comfortably into a life of being on the move and living in cramped spaces. “You don’t need to bribe me, you know,” you joked.

His helmet tilted to the side. “I know,” Din responded lowly. “It’s - more of a token of my appreciation for everything you do for Grogu and I. And…an apology.”

“For what?” You inquired.

“For everything,” he answered quietly. “For…letting my feelings get in the way. And for unpaid promises.”

“Oh,” you rasped, drawing your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on top. Guilt flooded in, and you let out a sigh.

“It’s ok Din,” you mumbled. “I should have known better. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. You don’t have to - it’s not a promise I expected you to even say, much less keep. If you want to forget about it, then I’m all right with that.” You shot him a half-smile, trying to force yourself to be ok with this development. Having it out in the open hurt, but at least you knew.

Time passed slowly, though, in reality, it must have been just a few heartbeats. The two of you gazed into the low flames. The smell of the burning wood was bright, like something you’d smell in incense. Combined with the steam and the oils, you felt a little lightheaded. You thought about excusing yourself and calling it a night early, maybe finding something alcoholic to sip before trying to sleep your feelings off, when Din let out a sigh.

“I’ve seen members of my covert leave for various reasons,” Din spoke softly. You raised your eyes and watched him through the flames as he poked at the coals, sending sparks up into the sky. “Wealth, family, fear, love. I had thought that there couldn’t possibly be anything in the galaxy that would cause me to forsake the creed.”

“I’ve felt temptation. It’s not an easy life, but it was the only one that I had ever truly known,” he continued. It’s what drives me…gives me purpose.” You nodded slowly, silence inviting him to continue.

“I knew this older Mandalorian, decades ago. We had traveled together on a few different bounties before I had started taking jobs exclusively on my own.” There was a hint of a smile in his soft voice. “I guess he was a kind of…mentor. Took me under his wing when I was first starting out. The last time I saw him was the day he laid down his helmet and left the creed. The other members of the covert watched him go in silence, but I followed him out into the dawn. I confronted him, and asked him why he would leave.” Another poke at the coals, and more sparks.

“I remember him just turning, a small, sad smile on his face,” Din murmured. “And he said ‘I just didn’t want to live another day without feeling the sun on my face, kid.’”

“Back then, I hadn’t understood. I had thought the man a fool for abandoning the creed for such an insignificant reason.” His helmet turned up, the visor facing you straight on. “Then, years later, I accepted a bounty for the kid and it was then that everything I thought he knew about the galaxy and my place in it had shifted.” You could barely hear a broken sigh as Din dropped the stick he had been using to stoke the fire, his hands resting limply on his thighs.

“And after meeting you,” he rasped, and your heart started beating so fast you were sure he could hear it. “I started to understand that perhaps that man’s words were more than just about feeling the sun on your face.”

Swallowing roughly, you trained your eyes on the man in front of him. It was like he had deflated - everything he was feeling, out in the open - guilt bare in front of you. You stood and went over to him, sitting just to his side, thighs barely touching. Placing a wary hand on his shoulder, you tried to think of what to say in response.

“I’m can’t take back how I feel,” you decided, voice soft and gentle. “Or erase what has transpired between us. But if it makes it easier for you…” trailing off, you brought your hand down to his bicep, where there was no armor, and squeezed gently. “I’m ok with going back to how things were.”

Din’s helmet turned towards you slightly, and he placed a hand lightly on your knee, squeezing in return.

“I brought you here for another reason,” he confessed and stood. Holding out his hand, he took yours and helped you to your feet, leading you inside the building.

It was lit dimly by warm, inset lights, and you followed Din into the main bedroom suite. You sat at the edge of the wide bed and watched as he went over to where his things were sitting on a table.

“Maybe it would be best if we did go back to how things were,” Din faltered, voice low as if he was talking more to himself than to you. He pulled a piece of dark fabric from his pack and handed it to you. It was soft, like silk, but made of a thick weave. “But…”

You took it from him as realization bloomed in you like a rising flame. “You want to feel the sun on your face,” you finished for him, thumb brushing over the blindfold.

“I can’t show you my face,” Din husked. “It’s not…but if you cover your eyes…” he trailed off with a shaky breath. “If you are willing.”

You hummed, turning the blindfold over in your hands. “Is this what you want?” Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you handed the blindfold back to him, keeping your hand on his, waiting for his consent.

“Yes,” he rasped quickly, the word leaving his lips before you had even finished your sentence. With a nod of acknowledgment, you turned and showed him your neck. Moving your hair out of the way, you invited him to tie the blindfold over your eyes.

Darkness covered your sight as he tightened the fabric around your head. His hands settled heavily on your shoulders and you turned back to face him.

“I know I can’t see,” you ventured, “But can I touch you?” You placed a hand on his chest and heard a low, shaken noise from the man underneath the armor.

“Touching…is ok,” Din answered, and the tone of it sounded more like a plea than anything else. You stood in front of him, hands slowly going up to his shoulders, and you felt around for the clasps and belts that held his armor in place. You wanted to undress him as he had undressed you.

As each piece of armor came off, you handed it to him to place safely somewhere off to the side. Not being able to see what you were doing made the work a little harder, but it also increased your desire with every passing moment. You were getting closer and closer to his skin with every removal, and you tried to quell the anxious shake in your hands.

You got to his waist and then kneeled slightly to unclasp the armor at his thighs. Your hand brushed over the front of his trousers, and you felt him there, hard and wanting. A wrecked groan echoed from above you, affirming his desperation. Standing again, your hands went to his chest to undo his shirt when his hands came up to stop you.

“Wait.” You held still, listening for his instructions. You felt him move away from you slightly and heard rustling and the sound of him taking his boots off before you felt his presence back in front of you.

“Ok,” he affirmed, and your heart kept at the sound of his voice, clear and strong without the helmet in the way. He had removed it.

Your hands came back up to his collarbone, and you undid the front of his linen shirt. His skin was warm underneath, and you could feel his heart thundering. It matched your own, and it spurred you on further. You tugged up, and he helped you pull it up over his head before discarding it.

Before you could continue, his own hands went to your clothing. You paused and let him undress you in turn - your top thrown to the side, your linen shorts pulled down your legs. You stood in front of him, just in your thin fiber weave underwear, when he cupped your chin and brought his mouth to meet yours.

You felt his lips, soft against you, almost chaste in their exploring. You parted your own in a small gasp, hand coming up to rest on his chest. You could feel his heart thrum underneath your hand.

The scruff of his facial hair tingled and scraped your chin as he deepened the kiss. Your tongue darted out towards his lips, and he chased it back into your mouth with his own. One of his hands came to the back of your head as he laid you back on the soft sheets, guiding you down. His mouth moved to your jaw and he placed several firm, wet kisses all along it as you sighed and began to surrender to his touch.

—

Din felt like he was on fire. His body pushed him as his mind screamed at him, confusing messages telling him to stop, no, keep going, creed versus desire no it’s ok she can’t see, it doesn’t count, please just let me have this -

Every piece of his armor coming off at your hands sent shocks of desire through him, followed swiftly by guilt at finding pleasure in something so forbidden. Then he started to take off your clothes, swallowing roughly at the sight of your smooth curves revealed to his uncovered eyes.

He channeled his guilt and deference to the creed into the worship of your body. From your mouth, down to your jaw, and then to the center of your chest. He held himself over you, careful not to crush you under his weight. You arched up, and he ran his tongue to the peak of one of your breasts. Closing his eyes, he groaned as he sucked there roughly, delighting in how you gasped at the sensation.

“Feels good,” you muttered above him, and he responded by turning his mouth to your other breast. One of your hands came up to comb through his hair, and he teased you with a soft nip to the soft flesh around your pert nipple.

“You’re so soft,” Din whispered, trailing his mouth down the plane of your stomach. A smile flickered across your face before turning into a hiss as he kneeled at the edge of the bed and spread open your thighs. “Never knew anything could be so kriffing soft.”

He nosed at your covered mound, hands gripping your thighs. The thin fabric of your underwear was losing its modesty just from your slick - and he hadn’t even tasted you yet.

“So wet,” Din growled. “Do you always get so wet? Do you walk around my ship with a dripping cunt?” He wrapped his lips around the soft, swollen mound of you, holding tight to your legs to prevent you from moving away from his probing tongue.

“Unngh,” was all the answer you could muster as his lips firmed around the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. Your orgasm was approaching rapidly, bitter-bright from the sensation of the man prostrating himself between your legs. His mouth moved against you, and he pushed your soaked underwear to the side to lathe his tongue up your slit. You reached down to grasp his hair again as he edged you closer to release.

Helmetless, Din reveled in the taste of you, the smell of you. Deference to his creed defied by the roaring desire you had planted inside of him urged him on. He flicked his tongue quickly over your swollen clit, eyes closing as you tensed against him.

“Oooh,” you simpered, hands tightening in his hair. “I’m gonna co-“ you failed to get the words out as Din pushed his face further into your soft cunt, and you came with a choked cry.

Stars, he thought. The feeling of you coming on his hand had been one thing, but this? The rapture of your orgasm nearly had him coming himself. A fleeting thought crossed his mind that he was now ruined - how could he ever be satisfied with just touches after feeling you come undone by his mouth?

Body shaking and jolting with every continued suck, you pushed at Din’s head. “S’too much,” you wailed, and you swore you could feel him smirk against you.

With one last kiss to your swollen flesh, Din moved back up your body. He grunted in surprise as you pushed on his shoulders, trying to roll him over. “What’re you doing?” He huffed.

“You said touching is ok,” you pouted, and he obliged you and rolled to his side. You felt around for his chest and swung a still-shaking leg over his broad lower abdomen. Leaning forward, you bumped his nose clumsily as he chuckled lowly and guided your desperate mouth to his own. You sighed into it, tongue swiping at his lips to taste yourself on him. Din’s hands settled on the backs of your thighs, rubbing the soft skin there as you explored his mouth.

Mirroring his earlier journey, you moved from his lips to his jaw, nipping at the scruff. His short nails scratched lightly at the skin on your legs as you ventured lower, using only your sense of touch to guide yourself down him.

Din groaned as your tongue came out to trace his collarbone before you kissed down his chest. His cock jumped at the feeling of you grinding down into his lap - were you even aware of it, or were you so drunk on the need for him that you didn’t notice?

As you moved your body down to settle between his legs, reaching for the belt of his trousers, you frowned in frustration as his hand came to stop you. “Sorry, sweetness,” Din mumbled. “But I’m not gonna last if you do that, and I want to come inside your cunt.”

“Oh,” you responded lamely as he grabbed your arms and dragged you back up his body. He slotted his mouth over yours again as he flipped your roles, once again hovering over your smaller frame.

“You want that?” Din husked into your mouth and you nod feverishly. “I know - you’re drenched with the thought of me deep inside you, aren’t you?” You moan your assent, shivering at the filthy way he’s talking to you.

“Gonna ruin you,” he continues lowly, shedding his pants and gripping the base of himself. Grabbing one of your legs, he pulls you down as you yelp. He rubs his cockhead over your clit and up and down your dripping folds, spreading your thighs to settle heavily between them.

His girth dwarfs you - you had seen how big he was before when you had him in your mouth, but feeling him like this - hard against where you wanted him most - makes your head spin. With a grunt, he pushes against you, and you feel the pressure of him.

He knows he should go slow. He wonders if he’ll fit as he watches the way you split and stretch around him. He feels too big, but it’s too good to slow down - and the way you keen under him urges him on. It’s selfish, he thinks wildly. Not taking the time to prepare you for this. But he can’t help it.

“Fuck,” he rambles, speaking neither to you nor himself, but to something unseen. “This is for me. Just for me.” Rolling his hips, he thrusts up into you, watching as your covered face lulls to the side, your breath leaving you in little gasps with every punch at your guts.

’S’full,” you mumble, and he answers you with another purposeful thrust. ’B-big. You’re so big, Din. Deep. You feel so good.” He murmurs praise about how good you’ve been for him, how pretty you look under him, blissed out from his cock. You gurgle out a moan at how full you feel - you swear you can feel him all the way up in your sternum.

He wants to stain your insides. His hips piston into you recklessly, driving home so that you’ll feel him for days afterward. He wants you to walk back to his ship sore and dripping with his spend, and then he’d push you down into your cot and fill you up again for good measure.

Your cunt flutters around him, and it drives him further into madness. All thoughts of the creed are gone. He’s lost in the tight clutch of you - the universe begins and ends from where he’s anchored inside of your body.

“Gonna fill you up,” he slurs against your mouth, chest coming down to press against yours. He hisses at your nails scratching up his back, and he presses his teeth against your bared neck. He sucks a dark mark there, nipping and biting up to just under your ear. “Want it, don’t you? Gotta come on my cock first, baby.”

Your brows furrow as if in concentration - you focus intently on the feeling of him. The way his bulk spreads your thighs, the ache of a burn already growing there. The way his iron-hard cock spears you open. The way his mouth lathes over your skin. It’s too much and not enough all at the same time, and it pulls you apart.

Din groans at the feeling of you tensing below him, around him. He’s so close, and it makes his whole body burn. He has just enough sanity left to keep his deepest desires on the tip of his tongue - the ones that make him come the hardest when he’s alone, cock in hand. The ones where he comes so deep inside of you that it takes and ties you to him forever.

He almost says it. “Might fucking take, sweet girl. Want me to come in you? Stuff you full of my come? Fill you so deep, get you nice and round with it-“

He doesn’t though - not yet, that’s too much - and instead muffles a groan into your neck as he starts to come. Din slams his hips into you once, twice, and then holds himself up against the seal of your womb, rutting not out but further up. Stars, he’s coming so much, and harder than he had ever come before. It makes him see static behind his eyes.

You shiver and moan beneath him, at the feeling of him pulsing his release inside of you. Din slots his mouth over yours before lowering himself further, hiking your legs up to lock around his waist.

You shift under him, still anchored to where he fills you. You can fill yourself leaking around the tight plug of him, and it makes your toes curl. Din does not make an effort to move, merely buries his nose into the side of your neck and curls around you further. Maybe it’s the desire to keep you there, attached to him. The feeling of holding someone in his arms - so unfamiliar yet so necessary.

He might be a Mandalorian, but he’s also a man, after all.

—

Din has you twice more before the sun rises. On your knees, face buried in the pillow as he plows into you from behind. He fucks you slow and deep like this, rambling more filth into your ear until you’re shaking around him again.

You’re nearly delirious from the pleasure and exertion as he brings you to your crest a final time. He lowers you onto him, your chests pressed together. The blindfold is damp from a mixture of your sweat and your tears. His hands brand themselves on the curves of your ass as he fills you one last time, praising you for how well you took him.

You feel him shudder beneath you as you mumble how you want to be good for him before you sigh and fall out of lucidity.

—

He holds you like that as the sun crests through the thin curtains. You’re sprawled over him, check pressed against his chest. Eyes still covered - the blindfold hadn’t budged, despite the way you tumbled together through the night. A small token of grace.

Din knows he’ll have to get up soon, and put his helmet back on before you wake up. His body is tired, though, and he convinces himself to lie there - just a little longer - and tries to imprint how it feels to have your body pressed against his.

After the bliss has faded and the shame sets in, it might be all he’s left with.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian #din djarin #reader insert #din x reader #mando x reader

[tinkerbelle05]

hi! can you write a miles (1610) x gn/fem pop star s/o? thanks so much!!

My Muse

Characters: 1610!Miles Morales x Black!Fem!reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: (Requested) Thanks for the reqs, sweets

Warning: none :)

A/N: Did I use this as an excuse to talk about my favorite songs? Maybe lol. Let me know if you have heard of any of these, they are listed below.

Dating someone famous was not for the weak, Miles expected that. You tried to keep your relationship private, knowing how unhinged your fans could be. You loved and appreciated them (well most of them) but they could be a bit much at times.

And because of that your dating life was on standby until you met Miles. He was perfection in every sense of the world. And somehow, when your relationship inevitablely got leaked, he was calm about it. Well of course during first week Miles was the definition of a mess because who wouldn’t be. He was constantly refreshing the comment section of posts and the like.

But after that he went private and kinda moved on. Two months later and it was like the leak never existed. You moved on with your lives and the rest of the world did too.

Miles was hanging out in your room, music playing in the background. You were writing lyrics in your book and he was sketching in his. With the afternoon sun lighting up the room, the scene felt picturesque.

You felt someone watching you, and when you looked up, it was Miles. His face was resting on his palm and he had a lovesick expression on his face.

“You should take a picture, it'll last longer,” you joked and that broke him out of it whatever daydream he was having.

“Oh…oh. Um, was I staring?” He asked sheepishly.

“Yes, you were,” you chuckled. “But it’s cute.”

You leaned over and caught a glimpsed of his sketch book. But only that as he snatched the thing out of your reach. “Hey, hey, you know the deal. You look into my book, and I look into yours.”

You stared at Miles, mulling over the offer in your head, weighing the pros and cons in your head. “Okay, fine.”

You really wanted to see what that boy was so secretive about in there. And you always wanted to stare at the lil sketches he made of you. You exchanged books and went to looking.

You just hoped he wouldn't be a dork (affectionately) about what you written in your book.

But this is Miles we’re talking about here. Being dork is practically his middle name.

He glances up at you and his eyes says it all. Your cheeks were getting hot but thankfully with your complexion, it won't show.

“Can’t stop thinking ‘bout the way you kissed me, under the stars’?” Miles recounts the lyrics you wrote.

You ignored him and continued to look through his sketchbook. Even though you were enjoying his reactions.

It's one of your favorite parts about thing whole singing thing (other than the money obviously), it was how people reacted to your songs. Especially the ones who inspired it.

“Oh, and another one! ‘You’re the water when I’m stuck in the desert. You’re the Tylenol I take when my head hurts. You’re the sunshine of my life.’” He reads the words from the book with a smug smile on his face.

“What you cheesing for?” you asked with a big smile of your own.

Miles sets the book down on his overcrowded night table and comes closer to you, “You know, while reading this book, one would assume that I'm your muse."

He's staring at me with a teasing smirk on his face, “Well, am I?”

Instead of answering you shoved his book in his face and flipped through the multiple drawings that Miles has of you, “And what about this? Does this mean I'm your muse too?"

“Okay, okay you got me. I guess we’re both muses for eachother then?”

You look at him and can't help but smile, “Yea, I guess we are.”

Tags: @butterfi, @somber-dreamz, @jam-skullz, @hoeboat101, @randomhoex, @badbehaviorxx, @gw3ndyswonderland, @midnight-the-shadow-wolf, @eight-cats-in-a-box, @itstooearly-its3am, @sleepdeprivationis4coolkids, @rosebunny, @maypersonne, @yourtsahik, @mur-docs, @sawi-06, @707xn, @andhdi68a, @emgavi, @nagi3seastorm, @ghostsimp000, @cloudstrifefantatic, @vixqn, @ellatienesuscosas, @laylasbunbunny, @minimari415, @im-jisoo-im-okay, @universallypeanutpizzapersona, @avatarl0v3r, @nerdyparker616, @jell0buss-37, @centipider, @keawio, @skullux, @luci1fer, @jazisc00l, @thebestandrealestever, @baneofthemultiverse, @1uvvmi,

Anonlist & Reqs Info & Masterlist & 500 Followers Celebration!! & Taglist

Songs used: ur so pretty - wasia project & best part -HER ft. Daniel Caesar

#earth 1610 miles morales x you #earth 1610 miles morales x female reader #earth 1610 miles x you #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles fluff #earth 1610 miles morales x black!reader #earth 1610 miles x black!reader #miles morales x you #miles morales x female reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales x fem!reader #miles morales x y/n #across the spiderverse #atsv miles #atsv fanfiction #atsv fic #spiderman x reader #atsv miles x reader #atsv x black reader #atsv x reader #spiderverse #earth 1610 miles x reader #earth 1610 miles morales fluff #atsv fanfic #1610 miles morals x reader #miles morales fanfiction

[mppmaraudergirl]

congrats on the milestone, it’s so well-deserved, your writing is some of my favorite out there!!

from the micro fics list: enchanting

thanks so much 🥹 I had this idea straight away but writing is hard lately

enchanting - a @jilymicrofics

Every room in the house is pitch-black and quiet apart from one small room at the far end of the hallway upstairs. This room alone is alight with a glow that spills into the shadows in a soft welcoming orange. Even if it wasn’t aglow, even if the years hadn’t made her familiar with the walk there, Lily would be able to find her way from the voice heard within. A soft voice, but no less of a siren call for her.

The door is open far enough for her to step inside, yet she lingers at the threshold, shoulder casually pressing into the jamb, arms tucked comfortably around her middle as she takes in the scene. Her husband’s back is to her, his long legs crossed underneath him and his wand dangling precariously out of his pocket as he gestures with his hands. She knows it is only a matter of time before he reaches for it, primed to use it for magically orchestrating along to the story he is conveying. In front of him sits their son, a mirror image of his father in looks, in the crooked glasses on his nose, and in the way he sits; next to Harry is his younger sister, so enthralled with the story being painted in front of her that her lips are parted slightly.

The story her husband tells cannot be found written within the tomes on the shelf behind him. It is a James Potter original, as enchanting, if not more, than any she has encountered before. Tonight he describes a lush forest and a hidden pathway. He describes the copse of trees in which a world of fairies resides; their homes tucked within the large roots or hanging from branches, their tiny windows twinkling in the night like a blanket of stars. His wand sends sparks to the ceiling, drawing the gazes of two awed small faces and a third slightly larger but no less awed. He weaves a story of peril and of triumph, of fighting and of loving… for what else could he tell than that which he knows?

If she lets herself, she will be drawn into the room as if bewitched. She will curl up alongside their children and share in their wonder and laughter, or be pulled to James’ side, to shine within his spotlight. There are many other things she could be doing now to clean up after their two toddler cyclones.

Instead, she stays where she is, letting herself be carried away to a fanciful world that is somehow not as magical as her own.

#jily #jily fic #jily microfic #james potter #lily evans #jple

[aemondslefteyeball]

Let's Have a Satanic Orgy!

[Visenya Targaryen x Fem!Reader]

[Warnings: Degradation, spit, slapping, spanking, lots of sacrilege, general blanket warning for lots and lots of sacrilege, choking, implied gore]

[Summary: A heteronormative, Gods-fearing Westerosi family navigates life in a world rife with temptation and sin!]

(Tbh I think this is the most fun thing I've written so far this might turn into a series idk. Title comes from this song, please support the band they’re both super cool)

Word Count: 2.9K

Maegor & the Meaning of Friendship

Raising children is hard. Raising your lover’s child is harder, especially when he’s an unholy, incestuous abomination borne of a lesbian’s blood magic. And that leads to predicaments such as the one you found yourself in right now. Little Maegor was napping happy as a lamb while he levitated two feet above his crib. You had just got him back down. Sighing before tiptoeing your way around the defense glyphs on the floor, you reached your hands under the sleeping child as gently as you could before lowering him to the bed. That was the exact moment violet eyes snapped open and demonic wails rang through one of the few completed towers. Sighing, you shushed him as you bounced Maegor on one hip, grabbing his favorite ceremonial toy dagger. When the toy did little to appease him, you cleared your throat. 

“Hush little darling,

Dream of pain.

Screaming, brimstone, blood in rain.

But if those Riverlands don’t burn, 

Momma’s gonna turn them into an urn.” 

The child smiled as his head lolled back onto your shoulder. He dropped the dagger, but you bid a shadow to catch it before the clatter woke him again. He was growing by the day, and it was apparently starting to become an issue for his wet nurses. You regenerated two pairs of nipples this week alone. And that was nothing compared to the first time Maegor discovered what teeth could do and you spent a week trying to revive his Septa until giving up and binding her soul to a child’s doll that now sat untouched in the corner of his room. Sighing, you made a mental note to go through which bound souls he did and didn’t play with so you could release the ones he ignored. As you tiptoed back over the sigils in the floor, you grabbed a pouch of hangman’s ash from the interior of your dress and sprinkled it over the line you had broken upon entering the room. Closing the door after you, you crept along the shadows through the keep until arriving at the yard. Empty. She’s running herself too thin. Visenya hadn’t been arriving at your shared chambers until after the hour of the owl most nights. But you didn’t mind, the night had always been to your liking, and nights with her were nothing short of perfect. Lateness be damned. When her last haunt turned up empty, you frowned. The only other finished parts of the castle were the kitchens and the Sept. It was decidedly…unlike her to be there but worst case scenario she wouldn’t be there and you could just make another Septon piss himself. To your surprise, Visenya stood before the altar and took in the effigies of six gods. “I’ve always found it strange that they never worship the only God of theirs that’s actually real.” 

Visenya turned around at the purr of your voice, a dark chuckle escaping her lips. “And yet the farce drones on. But appearances must be maintained.” Gliding to meet her at the altar, you smiled when your love pulled you in for a kiss. With a flick of your hand, the heavy wooden doors slammed shut, and you bit into Visenya’s lip hard enough to draw blood. She moaned when your tongue probed at the cut, and you pulled away for a brief second. 

“Do you know what our son has been up to?” Your arms came to rest on the blonde’s broad shoulders, pressing the curve of your chest into her. 

Visenya grunted as she pivoted so the back of your thighs was flush with the altar. “There are other things on my mind.” A wicked grin split your lover’s face as her rough hands dropped to your thighs, pulling your weight out from under you as she pushed you back onto the altar. 

You let out a small chuckle, raising an eyebrow at her as you stumbled back. “Like maintaining appearances?” 

A dark look flashed across Visenya’s face, and she tenderly lifted your arms from her shoulders. She took care to press gentle kisses along your wrists, locking eye contact with you before she pulled her belt off and bound your wrists with it. A single finger tilted your chin up, a predatory look on the Queen’s face. “Appearances will be kept, in public.” Her thumb stroked softly at your jaw as your gaze came back to focus on the dribble of blood from Visenya’s lower lip. “But since there isn’t an audience here,” She almost sounded disappointed, even if her better instincts told her otherwise. “You are going to be a good girl and help me defile this.” The words were spoken in a soft coo, with a razor’s edge beneath it. Visenya placed a kiss on the tip of your nose before she shoved you onto your back. “Hands above your head. Don’t move them.” She didn’t wait for you to adjust yourself, her hands rising to the neckline of your dress and promptly tearing the lace. 

“Hey!” You let out an indignant huff.

“Shut up.” When you opened your mouth to retort, she brought a hand down to slap at your exposed breast, the peak stiffening. “If you complain again, you’ll be returning to our chambers naked.” Your lover's hand wandered over your torso, and you arched your back into her touch. A smug look pulled across Visenya’s features as she rolled your nipple between her fingers, her mouth pulling the other in. A bolt of heat jolted to your core as her tongue stroked your nipple, clenching around nothing as you let a breathy moan escape you. Teeth pulled gently at the peak, as her fingers pinched at the other. Her moan vibrated against your flesh, lavishing your breast before slapping the other once more. Satisfied, she released your nipple with a wet pop and flicked her feral gaze up to you. Methodically, her hand rose until two fingers rested against your bottom lip. Opening your mouth, you flicked your tongue across her fingers, wetting the digits thoroughly before pressing a kiss on her fingertips. Visenya’s fingers dug into your thigh hard enough to leave bruises, while she brought the other to brush against your lower lips. Light as a feather, her touch never lingered against your skin for longer than a few moments. You clenched your jaw shut, knowing that she would only prolong the teasing if you complained about it. Fingertips grazed closer and closer to your center, and when you started bucking your hips to try and meet them, her other hand pressed your hips down flat into the altar. 

You finally shot her a pleading look, stilling your movements. “Please, my Queen.” 

A wild grin pulled across Visenya’s features, her fingertips circling your bud as you moaned. “All you had to do was ask.” She cooed again, her tone condescending. By now you should be used to begging her for what you wanted, but it wasn’t something that came naturally. Your abdominal muscles tensed as she continued the lazy pace on your bud. Hooded eyes opened to meet her fiery gaze, and her left hand traversed up your torso, coming to rest under your jaw. “Open.” When your lips parted you were rewarded with the pace on your bud quickening, a soft whine escaping you before Visenya spat into your mouth. Pushing your mouth closed and watching you swallow, her thumb tenderly brushed against your lip for a moment before her expression stilled. Her hand was pulled away from your face, and you mourned the loss of contact before the sting bloomed across your cheek. Visenya waited for you to look back at her before her hand cracked across your face again. “Never talk back to me.” She cooed, lowering her fingers to prod at your entrance, but refusing to give you what you need. “I thought by now you would know your place.” She continued as the hand that struck you came to rest on your throat. “And what is that, precisely?” Before you could answer, her fingers squeezed against the sides of your throat. Visenya chuckled darkly as you clenched uselessly around her digits. 

“Your whore.” The wheeze was barely audible, and your lover squeezed your throat harder. 

Visenya knit her eyebrows together in false concern. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite hear that.” She murmured. You tried again, but the words were muffled once more. Heat shot to your core as you writhed uselessly against the queen, tears pricking at your eyes. “Nope, still nothing, I’m afraid.” She said with a mocking sigh, finally releasing her grip. 

“Your whore.” You gasped out with the first breath you could suck in, a pleased smile tugging at Visenya’s sculpted face. Two fingers pushed into you suddenly, and you moaned at the fullness. Visenya didn’t give you a chance to adjust, her pace punishing as she curved her fingers into the rough spot that made your vision go blurry. Your teeth dug into your lower lip as you strained against the leather binding your hands. Heat was building in your lower abdomen, your muscles being pulled ever tenser at her continued ministrations. “May I cum?” Visenya quickened her pace, and your hips rolled to meet her actions. Bringing her thumb up to stroke your bud, tension built ever higher in your gut.

“No.” The reply came lovingly whispered, and you knit your eyebrows together, closing your eyes. 

“Please.” You begged, opening your eyes once more to lock with hers as you desperately tried to hold in the wave of pleasure that was about to break within you. 

Visenya looked annoyed, and pulled her fingers out of you at once, slapping your core before shooting you a hard glare. She wrenched you to your feet before promptly bending you over the altar and tearing the remains of your dress off your body. Her fingers laced into your hair and she pulled back until you were looking at her. “Five.” She said simply, untangling her fingers from your hair and pushing your hips into the marble before her hand cracked against your exposed ass. A second later a second one came to the other cheek. 

“One.” You moaned out, slick leaking out onto the altar as your lover gently rubbed the reddened flesh. 

Visenya’s hand cracked out against your skin two more times. “Two.” 

The blonde tutted approvingly behind you, the hand on your hip rubbing gentle circles as she rained the next few blows onto you. Visenya breathed raggedly, while you savored the feeling of her hot skin against yours. When the last blow fell, you took a second to catch your breath. “Five.” Pressing into her touch, you let the silence hang between you two for a second longer. “Thank you, my Queen.” 

Visenya pulled back, taking a step back from the altar. Her deft hands moved to undo the laces of her breeches. “Is a little gratitude so difficult?” She mused, her pants dropping before she carefully stepped out of them. “On your knees.” You dropped immediately, holding your hands up so that Visenya could undo the belt. Afterward, your hands raised to your lover’s smallclothes and you waited for an approving nod before pulling them down. Visenya stepped out of them and promptly hooked her thigh over your shoulder. Pressing a soft kiss to her bundle, you relished the way her fingers tightened in your hair. Your tongue darted out to taste her, and she let out a low moan. Swirling your tongue around her bud, you dropped your face so that your nose ground into her clit while your tongue pressed into her entrance. You moaned at her taste, and Visenya tensed against you at the vibrations, her hips rolling against your face. Slick coated your chin as you continued to tonguefuck your Queen, her moans heady as she ground against your face. “Fingers.” Visenya commanded, and you nodded before coating two in her slick and pushing them into her. “Fuck.” The blonde groaned as she clenched around your fingers. "Such a good little whore for me." You merely started thrusting them into her, drunken off the sound of her building moans and harsh words. When you prodded the rough spot behind her pelvis, Visenya’s movements grew erratic. She rode your face without abandon, her fingers white-knuckling your hair as she squeezed yours. You didn’t stop after her moans hit a crescendo, your fingers continuing at the bruising pace she loved. You lapped up every drop of her cum, licking it off your lips when she finally pulled you away from her core. Visenya looked so fucking beautiful like this, her silver hair frizzing around her face and her heavy-lidded eyes staring down at you lovingly. She closed her violet irises for a few moments longer, lips parted as she caught her breath. When her eyes opened again, they were once more darkened with lust. She pulled you to your feet before pushing you back against the altar. This time she turned you so you lay along the length of the marble, and she crawled up after you, coming to settle between your parted legs. Her hot breath teased against your throbbing core, slick coating your thighs as she pressed her lips to them. Her tongue darted out to taste your essence, looking up at you with a dark look in her eyes before she bit into your thigh. You grunted in pain, another wave of arousal shooting through you as Visenya released you. Pressing a kiss to the burning flesh, she finally swiped her tongue across you, spreading your slick around with a deft tongue. She didn’t wait a moment longer before feasting on you like a starved woman, her lips pressing around your button before she sucked on it and slipped a finger into you. Your heels dug into the marble as you writhed against her touch, wild moans filling the sept. In response, she slid another finger into you and increased the pace, her eyes wild as she drove herself into you. 

When the heat started to build in your gut once more you reached out to hold the hand that she had rested on your hip, and squeezed it lightly. “May I please cum?” You whimpered, arched against the cool marble. Visenya hummed approvingly against you, her fingers quickening as your orgasm came crashing over you. Every muscle in your body tensed as you clenched impossibly tight around your lover’s fingers, hips rolling as you moaned out Visenya’s name incoherently. She didn’t let up until you had started to whimper and push her away, pulling back to rest her head against your thigh.  A haughty grin spread across her face at the sight of you, but her hands were gentle as they stroked your thigh. 

She came to sit up on the altar, pulling your head into her lap. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?” Guilt tinged at her tone, and you squeezed her arm reassuringly as you shook your head no. She nodded and tutted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “And you know I love you?” You smiled and pushed yourself up, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. 

“I love you too.” Having the power to clothe yourself in shadows was entirely useless until it wasn’t. Since meeting Visenya you have become well practiced in it. The tatters of nightshade fabric fell back over your body as if it had been poured there, and the two of you left the sept hand in hand as you returned to the royal apartments.

When the two of you arrived, you were both shocked to see Maegor tearing the heads off of the soul dolls while Aenys watched horrified a few feet away. “Maegor!” You exclaimed. Honestly, you didn’t know where he got his atrocious manners from some days. You would say his father if Aegon had anything to do with his birth because he certainly wasn’t around to teach him afterward. Shaking your head, you gathered a few of the dolls before passing them to Aenys. “We’ve talked about this.” You said gently, kneeling down to look Maegor in the eyes. He stared glumly down at his feet, and you looked back to see Visenya leaning against the doorway with an amused smile on her face. Turning back, you waited for him to raise his gaze to yours, and when he did you gave him a gentle smile. “It’s impolite to not share with your brother.” You explained, gesturing over at Aenys, who was cradling the doll holding the Septa’s soul. “How would you feel if he was tearing the heads off of his toys and didn’t offer any to you?” The boy’s lower lip trembled for a second as he nodded. 

“I’m sorry, Aenys.” You kissed Maegor on the forehead after he said it, and rose back to your feet. Taking a few steps back, you rejoined Visenya where she was watching the two boys. Aenys tentatively tugged at the doll’s head while Maegor beamed at him, when it wrenched loose a howling wail filled the tower. Maegor giggled excitedly, and Aenys was so excited from all of it that he started sobbing. You looked at Visenya lovingly and laced your fingers into hers. “We did a good thing.” You said, resting your head on her muscular shoulder. 

Raising children was hard, but it was easy when you were doing it with the person you love most in the world.

#visenya targaryen x reader #queen visenya #visenya the conqueror #visenya x reader #Visenya x you #Visenya Targaryen x you #visenya targaryen #asoiaf #visenya smut #asoiaf smut #visenya fic

[96percentdone]

Every time my old post expressing bafflement at 'anti player theory' undertale and deltarune fans gets a note, I go through the war again. Maybe some of them are normal, but like every post from these people that I have ever seen is never content to just have a strictly in universe read of the text. They gotta assert that believing a video game has meta elements spits in the face of craft and storytelling, and no video game could ever draw attention to it being a video game as part of it's thematic identity. They have to debunk the concept of metafiction just to be right, which is hilarious because they end up overwriting the thematic craft they claim to be the only real supporters of.

Undertale is about war, and violence, and hate and how we respond to it. Most monsters don't really want to fight, half of them are just hanging out, so they're happy to be friends if you are, but the memory of the war between monsters and humans lingers. Whether they don't entirely understand the war's true essence because of their purehearted natures make them antithetical to it (Papyrus, Monster Kid), or use the narrative around it as a prop for their personal goals and are forced to contend themselves (Alphys, Mettaton), or try to teach its horrors with its methods (Toriel), or are convinced that the only way to escape the shadow of the war is to win it (Undyne) even if they don't really want to wage war at all (Asgore), the history of that war informs it all. Flowey is who he is because that violence ravaged Asriel, a small child, SO hard his grief and anger are now everyone's problems. He cannot feel love because the cycle of violence stole his ability to believe in it. Every genocide boss only fights you to stop you from carrying out your own. They know that if the entire underground is so easily destroyed, there is no reason humanity wouldn't face the same fate, and this cycle must end, even if they are powerless. The ending is determined by whether you perpetuate war. The genocide run is a grueling, unfulfilling, deliberately difficult challenge as punishment for enacting war for nebulous gain, while pacifist ending brings about the best future, where everyone including Asriel is saved, and it is the most fun to play, because is one where you commit to kindness and understanding. They both are in service to the thesis statement that "love and compassion are good and the key to rectifying all wrongs."

Hbomberguy and NezumiVA have made videos on the same lines, but Undertale's meta because it's about how we engage with video games as a medium. It's about completionism. It asks whether mining a story for every possible scrap of information is worthwhile. Chara's true name is literally a derivative of player character, you are meant to name them after yourself, and project onto them and Frisk until the game seperates them from you because you are a real human being, not a character in a video game. You only learn Frisk's name by the end of pacifist, the best possible ending that you should be satisfied with as a means of separating your ties, and you only meet Chara when you go way the fuck out of your way to get the worst possible ending because of vague hints that there is one. Undertale uses the vibe and aesthetic of old turn-based rpgs to draw you in, get you comfortable, only to use it's characters to ask why are you doing any of this? Is this why you like stories? Are video games merely arrangements of lore to be logged into a wiki until you run out of data to sort, or did you like Undertale and other video games because its characters and ideas resonated with you emotionally? The text has a lot of compassion for Alphys and her fan hobbies, and it only criticizes her when she treats the real world as a self insert fanfic, and it's meta thesis for you is similar. It's fine and good that you love your favorite games, but what are you getting out of engaging with the medium in this way? "Don't you have anything better to do?"

But Deltarune is where they really start to lose me. It is not finished, things could change with later installments, but from what little we have, it follows up on Undertale's commentary about the cycle of violence, and brings it back to suburbia. Violence here is interpersonal abuse and neglect. It is adults caught up in the myriad problems of adult life they do not notice, or fail to support, or do not care about the children suffering under those same systems. Kris is a child who lives in the shadow of their older brother. They befriend Susie, who eats garbage and doesn't seem to have parents (or at least not any that give a shit), and they have a childhood bond with Noelle, who has lost her sister, her father is in the hospital, and her mother is absent and otherwise not great. Even Berdley has a whole complex about needing to be smart thanks to his upbringing. Kris opens this portal themself, literally escaping into a fantasy land where they, children, are the most important and powerful, unbeholden to adults and their baggage. They get to be agents, not subjects, and yet the dark world still has those same anxieties. Lancer is afraid of his father, Queen is an overbearing mother, Rouxls is an opportunist most concerned with himself, King struggles in vain to liberate himself from being a subject while forcing his subjects to adhere to his agenda, Spamton wants to escape his chains and is the incarnation of a spambot, Seam gives up, and Jevil escapes into his imagination. Kris can abuse Noelle into the snowgrave route, and Susie and Berdley are bullies because kids are just as capable of hurting one another as adults are. Darkners may say shit about not wanting to fight anyway, and Ralsei might regurgitate Undertale's lesson as truth like it's his full time job, but even he re-evaluates by the end of chapter one. In the real world things cannot be as simple they were in Undertale.

Agency obviously relates back to the meta, as Kris' is literally overwritten by the red soul you are asked to give your own name in a dialogue that once again separates you from your fictional vessel, a player character, then goes even harder when they slam dunk that little guy you made into the trash because "No one can choose who they are in this world." You can't either. You can get Kris to abuse Noelle into killing people, carry out the abuses that made these kids desperate to escape in the first place, even if they don't want that, but understanding the player solely as a force that strips agency, much like understanding Undertale's player as a comment on real world morality, is incomplete.

If Undertale critiques completionism and datamining as a valuable ways to understand art, then Deltarune reuses its cast and critiques is thesis as part of a its meta to showcase the it's real value. It is a story that even in universe is about fiction. The dark world and its inhabitants are palatable reflections of Hometown. Kris and Susie keep going back because it is freeing, and allows them to grapple with the their complicated feelings about their world. They can come out more confident in themselves, with a healthier mindset, or Berdley can fucking die! Violence in the dark world comes back out of it because the dark world is a mirror. Video games aren't real, you don't actually kill monsters or darkners, but war is real, and violence is real, and abuse is real, aren't they? Isn't that why you get sad when characters you like die? How often do we use analogies and metaphors to explain our feelings, or complicated ideas? Fiction is just a tool to understand the world. What are the stories you love saying to you?

If the meta doesn't compel you, it's not what you find value in, or how you interpret the text, I don't care, even if I think it's strange. What you get out of these games belongs to you, and you deserve to have your reading as much as I or any meta proponent does. But anyone making claims about what fiction must be, just to deny the a meta angle is possible? That's anti-intellectual bullshit. It denies metafiction exists as a tool altogether. It shits on not just Undertale and Deltarune, or meta video games, but stories written across every medium that have ever used their work to comment on itself, its genre, its medium, or art as a whole. If you denigrate a whole artistic convention and the work of countless artists just to validate your hot take? You don't deserve any respect.

#hope.txt #my meta #undertale #deltarune

[hannuhbee]

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗲

eddie gives you drawing ideas when you're experiencing art block. [wc; 2.3k]

pairing; eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings; swearing and fluff, i think that's literally it (written on my phone so mistakes too)

a/n; is this completely self-indulgent... maybe... i will edit this when i wake up i swear

"i'm at a loss, eds," you say, throwing yourself onto his bed, arms and legs splayed out.

"why's that?" he was fiddling with the strings on his guitar, not looking up at you.

you sigh. "my sketchbook is like, empty and i have to turn it in by friday."

"that's in two days," he states.

"wow really? i didn't know that."

"teasing." he laughs, putting his guitar down, finally looking at you. "all outta ideas?" you nod. "draw me."

when you sit up, your face is so close to his, noses almost touching. "i can't draw you, i'll mess it up."

"then it'll be abstract. c'mon, i'll sit like a statue, i promise!”

you laugh so hard you throw your head back. the thought of eddie munson sitting still, like a statue no less, was wild. he couldn't stop fidgeting as if his life depended on it.

looking over at him, you noticed that he would make a good subject. his hands were really nice after all, the rings the cherry on top. you loved his eyes too, and his hair, and his nose. everything about him.

"okay," you say, smiling. he leans in so your nose touches his, and smiles. "i can draw you."

"fuck yeah, babe! can you do it with a colored pencil? you have those right?"

you nod. "i only have red and blue though."

"red, red's my favorite color."

you nod again, confirming the color. eddie had taken you home, to his home, after school like always, so you had all of your art supplies with you. it wasn't much, a few hb pencils, pens, and two colored pencils.

inside, eddie was freaking out. he loved your art, and would shower you with compliments and kisses when you showed him a new piece, throwing in a few can you draw hellfire posters? too.

he'd never thought to ask for a portrait before. maybe it was because some part of him, something very deep down inside him, thought it would be scary to see someone else's interpretation of him. he was excited nevertheless.

you pulled out your sketchbook with almost twenty-five percent of it filled and sighed, letting your fingers roam around the cover - feeling the divots of when you pushed your pencil too hard in to make a mark, meaningless doodles, and words.

"you can go back to doing whatever, i can go from there."

eddie kissed your temple and leaned back to get his guitar. he started messing with the strings again as if they weren't perfect the first time around.

you looked around eddies room, which had somewhat become your room. wayne suggested you move in, to help keep it clean. eddie even made a stack of your clothes on his floor.

"what's the theme of this one? they all got themes, right?" he asked, half distracted.

"uh, not sure. think it's something like family or your idea of home."

eddie smiled to himself. "yeah? you're okay with putting me with that theme?"

you started sketching out his room, the perspective a little wonky but it would turn out fine. "'course eds, not to be all cheesy but you're kinda my idea of home." you are my home, you want to say.

"that's awfully sweet of you." he teases again, but neither of you can deny the blush creeping onto his face. it starts at the tip of his ears. "just so happens that you're my idea of home too. i mean, you put your shoes next to mine!" he repeats what you said, but leaves out the kinda.

you laugh hard again, but don't reply. you relish at this moment, of eddie doing whatever he does, back towards you, but still touching you, and you doing what you love, of who you love.

your focus is turned back onto the page as you start to slowly add in blocks, mapping out the clothes on his floor, the posters, and little trinkets. crosshatching is used to add depth and shadows and make it all look a little better, more real.

when it's finished, you write home at the top right and sign your name under. "look, eds."

"you're a modern da vinci, babe." he pretends to not see the title at the top but smiles like an idiot to himself when he turns away.

you move on to the next page. anatomy. it was never something that you were particularly good at, everything looking a little off.

eddie's backside turns out to be a great reference. you start out with the outline of his back and his hair, then you slowly add details in, carving them in. you don't offer to show him this one.

next, you draw the guitar, where it hangs in front of the mirror. eddie moved on to messing with his amp. you draw the pick on his nightstand, and the box of cigarettes, though you don't draw the label. it's just a box on paper, but you know it's more.

"s'it working?" he asks. you've gotten caught up in your drawing that you didn't realize he sat right next to you again.

you hum, nodding. "i'm tired already."

it was pretty late, and you were pretty tired. "m'tired too. you sure this burst of inspiration won't disappear by tomorrow?"

"nope, because you'll still be here, i hope."

he smiles wide again. idiot, you think. my idiot. "always gonna be here."

with that, eddie helps you get situated to sleep, and you're out.

when the birds outside wake you up, you're excited to draw, your hands itching. you're excited because you get to draw eddie. the entire day was going to be focused on drawing him, his features and his hands and his tattoos, everything that makes him eddie.

because of how the trailer is set, the sun shines bright through his window, perfectly highlighting eddie. the sheets have slid down to his lower back, so you can see the curves of his back and the few light freckles on his shoulders.

it’s perfect, he’s perfect. you have to draw him.

moving as slowly as you can, you reach down to grab your sketchbook off the floor, along with a colored pencil. you mark down the general shape of him, and then work on his face - half in the pillow with furrowed eyebrows and pouted lips. you wonder what he was dreaming about.

you make sure to get the way his hair falls into his eyes and over his shoulder, a few distinct curls on his cheek.

“freak.” he mutters, opening his eyes a smidge.

“you asked for this.”

he huffs, slowly getting up with a groan. “guess i did. can i see?”

you shake your head and move the sketchbook away. “not yet, when i get it back. monday.” you say, promising.

“monday.” he agrees. “d’you want eggs? think that’s all we got.”

you nod. “eggs sound perfect, eds.” smiling, you think back on all of the other times eddie made eggs and how he dumped salt on them.

he stands up to find a shirt and pants, but not before he presses a kiss to your temple and each cheek.

you follow him into the kitchen, still clutching the sketchbook. wayne’s sitting in his chair, sipping a coffee. it was rare to see him so early.

“hi wayne.” you say, to which he turns back and waves.

“you know she’s an artist right?” eddie says, cracking four eggs into a hot pan. they sizzle.

wayne laughs. “‘course i do, you show me everything she’s ever given you.”

your face heats up at the new knowledge. “you do?”

eddie looks sheepish, like you weren’t supposed to know. he shrugs, a red blush painting his face. “i mean, yeah, sometimes.”

“all the time!” wayne corrects with a loud laugh.

eddie scowls playfully and returns to his cooking. attempt at cooking.

while eddie begins to plate the eggs, wayne departs, reminding you to show him more art. wayne was your second biggest fan, after eddie of course.

eddie, thankfully, learned how much salt is too much, so the eggs were edible. “wish we had bacon or something.” he says with his mouth full of food. you’d scold him for that, but you were too enamored with the sight before you.

his hair was a mess, his eyes were still droopy and half-lidded, and he was smiling at you once he swallowed his food. his smile. you wanted it burned into your memory forever.

“this is good.” you manage.

“you’re staring.” he states, smiling even wider.

you scoff, trying to play it off. “i do not stare!”

eddie’s finished with his eggs, so he gets up to clean his plate. he kissed your head as he passes you. “i stare at you too. in a completely normal way, though.”

“that was a normal way!” you join him in cleaning your plate.

the rest of the morning continues like it always does, brushing your teeth together, and getting dressed together, and leaving together.

the rest of the day, however, doesn’t go like you hope it does. you don’t see eddie for much of it, and all you want to do is draw him. it’s a funny feeling, not wanting to do anything but draw and draw and draw. maybe it was something eddie-specific.

before you knew it, you were walking into the drama room to watch eddie’s dungeons and dragons campaign.

the boys all lit up at the sight of you, waving and greeting you, then getting back into setting up.

“babe! how’d the drawing thing go today?” he asked, pulling you aside.

you shrugged. “didn’t do much, didn’t see you much.” he frowns. “i can do more tonight though!”

“you’ll show me?”

you smile, shrugging. “can’t make any promises.”

“god, you’re awful.”

eddie laughs loudly before running to begin the campaign. you have a seat near the table, where you can see the party to either side and eddie in the middle. the glow of the florescent light make it look like he’s got a halo around his head.

as the group progresses in the campaign and gets more rowdy, you decide to draw it. a little sketch, nothing too detailed. you’ve adopted the younger kids, so they fit in with the theme. found family, you think.

eddie’s in the middle with his arms out, and everyone else is at the sides, smiling wide with unique expressions on their faces.

you’ve still got a good chunk of sketchbook left, so you draw the party’s characters. it’s a little unclear what the exact vision was for all of them, but you do the best you can. you end up with numerous half-rendered pieces of their dungeons and dragons characters with the respective player labeled at the top.

by the time you’re done, they’ve finished the session and are cleaning up.

“was that a good one?” you ask when eddie’s done.

he puts a hand on your waist and leads you out to his van. he nods. “one of the best. think you’re my lucky charm, babe.”

“that’s cheesy.”

he pauses, thinking. “you’re right, but wasn’t that sweet? i just came up with that!”

you laugh and push his shoulder. “i could tell.”

“you’re evil.” he smiles, no real harm behind his words. “what’d you draw?“

eddie starts his van and begins to drive out of the school lot. “just you and the party, their characters, stuff like that.”

“y’know, they’d love to see that stuff.”

you nod. “i’ll tear out the pages when it’s all graded. they can keep it if they deem it worthy of their vision.”

eddie snorts. “they love you, of course they’d love it!”

you want to disagree, but eddie turns up his music so you can’t. you glare at him, but it eventually fades into an endearing smile.

once you’re at his trailer again, you’re quick to pick up where you left off - sketching his hands doing whatever he’s doing, in this case, smoking.

you draw his hand with a cigarette between his first and second finger, lightly sketching a line to make a string of smoke. you make sure to get his rings. you continue onto his arm, where he’s rolled up the sleeve. his tattoos are visible, so you draw them too. accuracy is not a concern, as you already know you’ve got them down perfectly. you know him like the back of your hand.

“think you’ll finish by tomorrow?”

you nod, drawing his side profile. “sure i will, i’ve got enough you to last a lifetime.”

“god.” he sighs, smiling to himself.

the page is full, so you turn to the next and focus on his eyes. what they look like when he smiles, the wrinkles in the corners, eyelashes kissing. what they look like when he’s happy and full of fondness. what they look like closed.

“you’re gonna get frostbite.” he says, pulling you you up and into the trailer.

“it’s seventy degrees.”

“it happens, heat frostbite.”

you give him a look, raising your eyebrows. “so… heatstroke?”

“maybe.”

the rest of the night is filled with laughter and funny looks as you try to get eddie’s not-so-patient expression down on the page. you’d have to see the real thing though, a pencil can only do so much.

the remaining pages of your sketchbook are filled with his hands. floating hands cut off at the wrist, just doing random things - holding a pick, practicing guitar, attempting homework, hold your hand. that was the hardest, trying to hold his and draw with the other.

“fucking finally.” you swear, wiping your forehead. “finally finished.”

“proud of you. all of little ole me too.” he smiles smugly, poking your side. “you’re gonna get the best grade on that goddamn sketchbook.”

you laugh, looking at him. admiring him. “i think i did well. you’re my muse now.”

eddie laughs loudly, trying to hide the growing blush on his face. to be someone’s muse was an honor, to be your muse.

you were eddie’s muse, numerous corroded coffin songs being written about you or with you in mind. two different artists, but you were all the same.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader #stranger things blurb #stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things

[lunaekalenda]

"Stay quiet!" you ask him, when he moves again while you try to comb his eyebrows to give them shape. He looks at you and you laugh, with your legs on both sides of his hips, body sitting on his lap and his long legs stretched to give you a comfortable position. You're both on top of his bed, messy covers and lost pillows can be found on it, mixed with your favorite cosmetics and the bags you bring them into. There's a sweet scent coming from an aromatic candle he has on his desk, and his laptop plays soft music, creating an intimate ambience for you two. He smiles lovingly under your gaze, his back resting against the headboard and his fingers on your legs, with his face extremely close to yours.

"Well, well, I'll be quiet now, promise." Jean closes his eyes again, with a soft smile, while you rest your palm on his cheek, moving his face to the left with softness, getting access to his right eyelid. Taking again the brush, you take dark brown eyeshadow and, with soft movements and an enormous concentration, you start to draw a thin but smoky eye-line on him. He would pay to have his eyes open and get to see that face he loves whenever you're too invested into something, with your wrinkled nose and your teeth bitting your lip.

You take more pigment, making him look to the other side, looking to the already made eye as a reference. He feels you so close, how you approximate your face, breaths getting mixed and the tingling of his skin whenever he's near enough to touch you. He would love to just break the statue and kiss you, but he loves to see you this excited. It's been a time since you've been so thrilled about anything, so he wants to give you this as well. You seemed so happy when he agreed to you doing his makeup. You've been in the same position since then, listening to your favorite playlist and making your boyfriend the most pretty makeup you've ever imagined for his face.

His fingers draw figures on your thighs, nude because of the shorts you're using, making you lose part of your concentration, but you endure it enough to make the eyeliner look like the other. You smile for yourself, whispering him that he can open his eyes now. The shadow of brown you chose has little golden glitters that shine with the light that enters from his window, and it also gives his light-brown eyes a more sharp gaze. You can't hold back a smile when you look at your work on your boyfriend's eyes, making him smile as well.

"Why are you smiling?" you ask. He raises a brow, but still answers, crossing his arms behind your waist and attracting you closer.

"Because you did my makeup." he answers.

"Maybe I made the most horrible thing I could find." you joke back. He smiles, putting you even closer, if that's possible, making you drop the brush and rest your arms on his neck. Jean is tall but, in that position, he has to look up to you. He rests his head on your breasts as he speaks.

"Fine, you got me. I smile because you smile." he admits, making you laugh. Using it as a distraction, he turns both of you, being him on top of you.

"Jean! I didn't put lipstick on you, wait!" he smiles diabolically, looking at your lips and pouting.

"I want yours." he says, seriously, looking at your lips again. You nod.

"Give me a second, I have it here..." he tightens his hug and looks at you again.

"No. I want it from your mouth." he says. You look at him directly in the eyes, trying to decrypt what he's trynna say to you. Desperate, he rolls his eyes before pushing your head softly towards his. "I want to kiss you, dumbass."

"You could have asked for it, you know?" you say, looking at him. Definitely, that eyeshadow is his color. He rolls his eyes again before leaning down towards you and pressing your mouths together.

#MY HUSBAND IS BACK YALL #still not with the best writing quality #jean x reader #jean fluff #jean x you #jean x y/n #aot fluff #snk fluff #snk x you #aot x you #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk jean #jean kirschtein x reader #jean jean jean

[heartfullofleeches]

Thxxx! To the anon that asked about Erin wearing a skirt! because what if he found out his darling has a thing for tough guys in skirts!💖 I don’t know what type he buys tho? Like a long black maxi skirt? A cute one (that’s your favorite color) with ruffles and bows? Or a super short skirt (of any one you want) that barely manages to hide all that BADONKADONK 💖💖

Also maybe some nsfw if your up for it!

Erin getting sucked off while on top of a counter? (Or anywhere else if you prefer) you making him hold his skirt up as you stare at him while sucking him off. Legs on you shoulders and hands on his thighs! Just incase he tries to close them! 💖

Pegging Erin in the skirt (obviously) it allows you to easily give his ass a good smack and keeps him looking cute. Does he (fake) complain? Yes. But once you start praising (or degrading) him, how cute he looks all dolled up, only pretty sluts get fucked, and how would everyone that he bullies react if they found out their tormentor likes to wear cute skirts and get fucked like a cheap whore. He can’t help how much he loves it!

Thank you for reading my ask btw! Hope you like it!

(So I saw this ask after yesterday's post, but I felt that this would be a good continuation)

Erin runs three yellow lights on his drive to your place. He's already half way there before you send him your address. He knew your address due to the harmless act of following you home on weekends and when he wasn't hanging out with his click. At stops he's unable to past he adds a second coat of lip gloss and draws under his eyes with the eye shadow he picked up from a drug store on the way. His heels clack loudly against concrete as he marches to your door. It opens right as he raises his fist to knock.

Erin quickly brushes his hair over his shoulder. "Hi."

"Hey. Heard you coming."

"Yeah... Just got a little excited to see you is all..." Erin trails off. Fuck, was that too far? He was desperate for you, but he didn't want you to know he was. That, amongst other things would probably scare you off. Was he trying too hard? Too little? God, he just wanted you to kiss him already.

"So what are we going to-"

Grabbing Erin by his collar, you drag him into a kiss and your home as you slam the door behind him. The pressure on his neck makes his vision fuzzy, but he parts his lips as your teeth and tongue abuse the soft flesh. He feels your hands going up his skirt as the muscle violates the back of his throat; palming him through the panties he wore. You pull back, lifting his skirt to see the lace fabric in your grasp; the tip of his cock peaking from it band.

Erin forces a shakey smile. "Like what you see?"

"Thought I was jumping the gun at first, but you were hoping this would happen, weren't you? I figured last week in the cafeteria was to get my attention, but- wow."

"Been trying to catch your eye for a while. Do anything for you at this point."

"Guess I should make it up to you." You bring him over to the couch and dive in for another kiss as you lift his shirt over his chest, stealing those last bits of lip gloss clung to his lips. The initials engraved into over his heart should bother you, but he looks so pretty that you can ignore it for now.

"Freak."

Erin's cock twitches at the insult. You peck his cheek and catch the drool falling from his open mouth before sinking to the floor. You free his length from its restraint, skirt blocking the view.

"Lift up for me."

Erin rolls his skirt up his legs, thighs clenched as you pump his cock. You push them apart with ease and get into position as you take the head of his cock into your mouth. He whines, spreading his legs more rather than trying to close them as you swirl your tongue around his girth. He wants to hold the hand gripping his thighs, but prioritizes keeping his skirt out of your face. Your nails dug into his skin as your mouth closes around him. Whether intentional or not - Erin throws his head back with a drawn out moan.

"Y/n, s-shit, too much- I cant-"

He weakly taps your shoulder, but you pay no mind as you take him down to base. You stare up at him with a look that ties his stomach into knots. Pulling back, his cock shines with your saliva and the gloss you had sucked off his lips minutes ago. The tears in his eyes leave messy, black streaks down his face as you edge him; kissing and slowly rolling your tongue over his cockhead as you lick the drops of pre-cum. His body tenses, knuckles as white as sheets gripping the hem of his skirt. Your nails go over the red marks in his skin once more and he sees white.

"F-fuck..." Erin shutters and moans through his release, shooting his load directly on your tongue as you stroke him through his high and stick it out to catch it all. His cock falls limp against his stockings which you tuck in it as you climb up his body and into his lap. Dazed, he licks his now dry lips and lifts his head signaling for a kiss. You comply, the taste of his release fresh in your mouth as you plant another kiss on his lips. He could hardly care less as he allows you to spit in his mouth right before you tangle your tongue with his. You give him a moment's rest before sinking your teeth into his neck, groping his thighs as you lead his hand to your waist.

"Up for more, pretty boy~"

#Erin my oc #yandere oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere headcanons #male yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere smut #yandere drabble #yandere x y/n #yandere lemon

[project-doomsday]

Hey guys wanna see some old ass concept art of Doomsday I made early this year?

This was the very first sketch I drew of Z. As you can see this was my first time drawing him in a long time. His round bald head scares me. You can also see the first sketch of Z’s human disguise.

Ugh this looks terrible lol 😅. In case you couldn’t tell, that’s Keef or in this AU “Keith”. Originally the artstyle was going to be very very different. I decided to go for a 90s anime artstyle later on because it’s my favorite :3

GOOOOOOOODDD. DIB WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO YOU. Even back then I thought this was shit. This was my first drawing of Dib and Gaz. Like I said the artstyle was REALLY different. Also this was me going through my “oh my god why the fuck am I back into this series someone fucking kill me” phase. Z looks pretty good tho, I was starting to get the hang of it.

Now THIS is cool. I love this photo. The absolute anger and hatred in Z’s face. The blood (which is supposed to be pink but I didn’t know at the time) dripping down his face as it’s boiling and blistering from his injury. It really encapsulates the feeling of “you’re fucked.”

Ah, yet another good drawing. This picture really shows this sense of dread as Z stands to choose which dog to experiment on, his shadow casting down on them. I’m pretty sure you guys know who that dog in the middle is going to be.

Spoiler alert: it’s Gir.

Oh look it’s Gir! He looks almost the same for his official design. Designing him was the hardest part for me. I was thinking: “What would a dog look like that was experiment/tortured by an murderous alien into his robot slave?” And this is what I came up with!

And lastly, this was the original design for Z.

…I’m sorry, but guys, I could easily throw down on this twink. Look at this he looks like Jose jalapeño, damn stick body. Look at his head! It looks like a booger. And looks how skinny he is. I mean, yeah, Z is supposed to look emaciated and thin because he’s an alien, his body shape is supposed look uncanny and different than ours. When you look at his official design you could at least tell he’s powerful but with this he looks like a twig. Twig Zim. Twim. Someone draw Zim as a twig PLEASE.

Well, that was all the concept art i had. I hope you all enjoyed it! I wanted to show you all something special to pass the time as I work on the comic. Still got a long way to go! College is almost over so that’ll give me more time. Thank you all again for your love, support and patience! Love you guys and stay safe ❤️❤️❤️

- EMatooney

#concept art #invader zim #au #doomsday au #iz #my art #z #dib #old art

[sapphireblueandfire]

Aemond is weak for domesticity, if Luke acts like a loving wife he gets ridiculously docile

anon! i love this!!!

i don’t think the aemond we know is used to love as something that’s given just for the pure joy of giving, undiluted love, untainted by duty or ambition. he’s used to love corrupted with the shadow of hidden purpose and he’s only gotten a few scrapes of love as it’s meant to be so,

when luke rips into his life, when (in my dreamland) they’re forced to marry and to belatedly exile to driftmark together― he isn’t expecting it. because when things finally settle and they're left alone to live their now linked lives, luke, slowly, starts doing the most unexpected things: makes dinner for the both of them and refills his glass of wine and treats him carefully and, the most terrible of all then— he listens, on those days when not even aemond can keep himself so tightly in check anymore and drinks a little too much wine than he should and then too-long-kept secrets start to slip out of his mouth (things like ‘nobody’s ever done this for me’ and ‘i. though about this sometimes, you know. how would it be. feel free of all of them. free of her’ and ‘i always thought i hated you but― i don’t really think i do’). and luke smiles at him good morning and asks him to wear his hair down sometimes, calls him pretty when aemond finally finds the courage enough to do it (for him. because that’s the scary part. doing it for him), pulls a strand back from his forehead with delicate hands. luke pulls up the collar of his jacket when it's cold and takes his temperature with warm lips when the harsh sea-winter gets under his bones, and wraps him in his arms through the worse of the fever and― it’s impossible not to crumble, not to feel broken into the right hands, when he finally asks him, one day, no need of wine or courage anymore, because it feels safe, for the first time in his life, safe to look luke right in the eye and,

‘why do you keep treating me like this?’

and luke just― draws with his fingertips down the long wound that crosses his face, fearless, like aemond isn’t the only one, like luke feels safe enough with him to do it and―

‘war ended. and they gave me the opportunity to end it up with you, too. and i don’t want to live at war, aemond. i never did. and now i think you don’t either’

‘so―’ and aemond feels it, how love really hurts. pure. beautiful. terrible. but― “that’s what this is?’

―but luke just smiles bigger, sharper in that way of his that’s never really aiming to cut, soothes the pain in his chest same as he’s been soothing everything else. a little mean, a little breathtaking,

‘and you’re supposed to be the clever one, aemond? tsk. c’mon. you know it’s not’

and aemond’s never known it. love like this. something warm and bright and quiet. something gloriously simple, when luke’s hand cups his cheek and draws him close and aemond just― goes. easy. easy. lets luke kiss his scarred cheek then part his lips with his then kiss him. and aemond feels light. serene. feels docile in luke’s arms. and maybe this is how true love feels, he thinks, as he kisses luke back, as luke's hands carefully free him from his clothes as they have freed him from everything else like finally being at peace.

. . .

omg anon this has derailed a lot from what you sent me but i couldn’t help myself I'm sorry. but, inevitable as it was, please accept some falling-in-love cheesiness in my favorite future!scenario so far. and THANK YOU for this hc. I’m obsessed. o b s e s s e d. 😘😘😘😘😘

#lucemond #aemond x lucerys #lucerys x aemond #xask #xlucemond