#or dig and try to find an answer on their blog

[catboyazem]

Out of curiosity, where do you get the symbols in your edits (from the black and white set of Bhen’ja for example)? Is there a resource site or do you draw them by hand?

The job symbols I've scrounged up off of old Reddit resource posts (I reference this one frequently). When I use the Azem sun symbol I usually just handmake it because it's so simple. I also have a really really old collection of textures, most with credits to blogs that have since been purged/deleted outright. New stuff I pick up gets put in my #textures tag!

#log entry #anonymous #when i use a texture i try to find the op blog so i can reblog their post #but so far no luck ): #i go on texture digs every once in a while tho so if i find any they always get reblogged here!! #answered

[wongyuuu]

crossing the line | one | kmg

pairing: mingyu x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff (ish) word count: 1.6k warnings: smut (18+), minors do not interact, kissing, a little bit of dirty talking, swearing. a/n: this is something new i'm trying so i'm still a little insecure about it. a huge thanks to @ressonancee for putting up with my shit while i wrote this. if you filled the form to get tagged in my fics but was not tagged for this one, it means that you are either a minor or i didn't find your age anywhere in your blog.

part two

this is part of my new series, seventeen as songs from lover (ts)

Mingyu ➝ Paper Rings I hate accidents, except when we went from friends to this ↳ Mingyu had always been your best friend and that line had never been crossed before, then, one day, you woke up naked ion his bed with a vivid memory of the previous night.

Even before opening your eyes, you already knew you weren't in your bed. The mattress was a little too soft, the sheets not all the velvet feeling you were used to, and the smell didn't remind you of lavender like your room did. Above all that, the hand possessively holding onto your thigh was definitely not yours.

Without looking, you knew it was Mingyu by your side. 

Peeking under the covers wasn't necessary but you wanted to make sure. Yep, naked.

You weren't drunk the night before and hadn't gotten even close to it. Although it was true that you couldn’t drink a lot, half a beer wasn’t enough to get you drunk. If anything, you had never been sober. It was a completely conscious choice to have sex with Mingyu.

"Why were you flirting so much with Soonyoung?" Mingyu had asked, while you were looking for your phone.

"We always kind of flirt when he gets drunk" the answer had left your lips mindlessly because it was the truth.

Drunk Soonyoung was cute, sometimes bubbly, sometimes a crying mess. But all times flirty. You never flirted when he was sober, though. 

"Today was a little too much, don't you think?"

Mingyu followed you around his apartment, to his bedroom, arms crossed over his chest, his brows forming a frown. You turned around and walked to him, pulling his arms down to his sides.

"What is it with you today?" you asked softly, running your thumb over his eyebrows until the frown was gone "You've been really grumpy"

Mingyu sighed, his hands on your hips. You became too aware of the height difference between the two of you,  of the way his body leaned down on yours. Mingyu had always been touchy, always. But the way his hands were sitting on your hips, his fingers lightly pressing your skin over the fabric of your dress was different. 

Mingyu dropped his forehead to your shoulder, and your hand naturally went to his neck, caressing his hair. 

"I think I'm going crazy" he whined. 

Laughing you poked at his ribs with your free hand.

"You are a little crazy"

You felt as if your heart was going to combust at any second. Mingyu's touch on your waist became a little tighter, the tips of his fingers digging into your skin. It felt good, way too good.

Like a feather, Mingyu pressed his lips to the skin of your shoulder, where it connected with your neck.

"What are you doing?" you whispered. 

He simply hummed and continued to kiss your shoulder, now lightly sucking on your skin. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but just enough to drive you insane. 

It would be a lie to say that you never thought of Mingyu as more than just your handsome friend. The guy was attractive and he knew that, and capitalized well on the fact. So once, or twice, you allowed your mind to drift to that place, of him kissing you like you had seen him do with other girls. But the reality of it was incomparable to any dream or thought you might have had. Each little kiss from Mingyu gave you sent little tingles through your body.

"Mingyu, we drank today" you finally managed to push out.

Mingyu immediately pulled away from you, his eyes searching yours, both hands now on your face. He wanted to cross many lines with you but not if you were drunk.

"Fuck, I'm sorry" he pressed his forehead to yours for a second, before giving you a quick kiss "Let me drive you back" 

The only reason why Mingyu even thought of initiating something with you was because he didn't see you drink at all. It was sort of an understanding between you two that if Soonyoung and Chan were around neither of you would drink because they could get out of control. 

When Mingyu started to pull away, when you no longer felt his hands on you, a weird sense of emptiness started to spread over you. You held his hand, your eyes never leaving his. You could hardly blame your actions on the half beer you drank five hours before. 

"If we do this," you said carefully, low voice "It's a one-time kind of thing. Tomorrow morning we go back to what we are"

"You just said you're drunk"

"Listen to me" you pulled his face close to yours, the deep red of your nails contrasting with his tanned skin "I drank half a beer before Soonyoung and Chan even got here. This is your only chance, either take it or drive me home"

Mingyu didn't need to be told twice. In a second you pressed against the wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he delved back into your neck. Long gone were the soft kisses. The man was pure hunger.

He nibbled your jaw as his hand caressed the side of your breast.

"I always knew you wanted me" he smirked against your skin.

Finally, his lips found yours. All patient Mingyu was a distant memory as he pushed his tongue into your mouth, demanding control. 

You were all too pleased to give it to him.

Mingyu walked back, hands on your ass, never breaking this kiss. He had waited years for a chance with you, there was no way he'd waste a single second of your touch. 

"I'm going to take my sweet time with you," he said, dropping you in his bed.

You smirked, pulling your hair away from your face. 

"I don't think you can" you eyed the bulge in his sweats "I mean, you're hard just from kissing"

Mingyu had always been big but his new obsession with the gym was paying off. His arms had gotten huge and his shoulders larger than before. You didn't look away as he pulled his shirt over his head and his pants down. 

Without a word Mingyu kneeled on the bed, slowly, teasingly, running his fingers over your legs. You whimpered when he finally touched your thighs, making him smile again.

"You talk a big game but I'm sure of what I’ll find”

Mingyu kissed your inner thighs, goosebumps erupting in your skin. He didn’t take his eyes off you for a second. He knew where he was going without needing to look at you. Like he had somehow memorized your body. 

Ever so slowly, he pulled the hem of your dress up. You almost wanted to groan at the fact that you didn’t put on your nice, sexy, lingerie. Instead, you had body shorts on. Mingyu didn’t seem to mind one bit though, as he kissed every bit of skin that was exposed while he pulled your panties down. 

“God, why are you so slow?” you complained, pulling your dress over your head “If you’re going to eat me out, just eat me out”

You couldn’t help but squirm under Mingyu, desperate for him to touch where you needed him the most. It was embarrassing to admit that you were already worked up from the little he had given you. The small gasp that left your lips, followed by a moan, once he finally pressed his fingers against your clit, was the last tug at any self-restraint Mingyu still had.

“Dripping for me,” he said 

Then he reached for the drawer, pulled it open, and took a condom out. 

“All of this teasing and you’re really not gonna suck me?” you complained, sliding down on the bed, rubbing yourself on his thigh desperate for any sort of friction.

“I will, baby” he kissed you, while kicking his boxers off and rolling the condom on “but I think both of us will die if I don’t fuck you already”

Without a warning, Mingyu pushed into you. A mix of a moan and a gasp left your lips as he filled you completely. He nested his head on the crock of your neck, sucking harshly on the skin, at the same time you dug your snail into his back. 

He moved at a steady pace at first, long slow strokes that hit you in all the right places. You pulled his face to yours. There was something in his eyes, completely different but not something you could afford to read into at the moment.

“Mingyu, fuck” you moaned “Harder”

With his lips on yours, one hand on your hip to keep in place, and the other above your head, Mingyu increased his pace. His kisses were frantic, matching the way the rest of his body moved.

“Please, tell me you’re close” he begged against your lips “I need you to cum, baby”

You nodded, eyes shut, as you felt your insides grow tight with the build-up of your orgasm. Mingyu chased his high too, his thrusts getting sloppy.

He held your body to his, painting over your chest as your body shook with pleasure. He never stopped kissing you, you noticed. Even after it was over, both of your bodies covered in sweat, he was still dropping kisses all over you.

“Give me two minutes,” he said once he managed to recover his breath, the most charming smile on his face “and I’ll eat you out.”  

You laughed and pushed his face away.

“You don’t have it in you”

Running a hand through your hair you looked at Mingyu, still deep in his sleep by your side. He kept his promise, more than once actually. 

It was a bad idea, to sleep with Mingyu. You knew that. He was your friend. Had been for years. Mingyu was the one you turned to when things got hard, when you needed comforting, or sometimes just someone to knock some sense into you. 

You didn’t want anything to change between you any further than it had already had.

With that in mind, you pulled his hand from your thigh and got up. You collected your clothes from the floor and left his room, and apartment altogether. 

taglist: @wonwooz1, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @wonvsmile, @mhlsymlysn, @immabecreepin, @miriamxsworld

if you were tagged, please consider reblogging

if you want to be tagged in my next fics, please fill out this form

a/n: i will probably write a part two for this

#k-labels #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #kim mingyu x you #mingyu #seventeen fluff #mingyu imagines #kim mingyu imagines #kim mingyu #mingyu fluff #seventeen smut #mingyu smut #svt smut

[ohsuguru]

fae king! satoru captures a lost little lamb who's dressed in powder blue for himself ⁀ ❣︎

˚ʚ minors, ageless and blank blogs dni! ɞ˚

cw: p in v, fingering, reader losing virginity, dub-con (ish?), stalking, coercion, delusional satoru

an: saw a tiktok about fae traps and inspiration struck ˚₊‧ ꒰ა ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

fae king! satoru who on his stroll through his woodland stomping ground, finds a little lamb lost in the forest

fae king! satoru who recognises you as the kingdom's beloved princess, known for her scatter-brained naivety, always having her head in the clouds

fae king! satoru who watches you wander through the forest, your expression slowly becoming more and more anxious as you venture deeper and deeper, trying to find your way out of the sprawling forest

fae king! satoru who stalks you as you trip and fall, your light blue milkmaid dress - the same colour as his eyes, he notices - caught in thick brambles and thorns, eyes glassy with tears and lips pulled into an anxious pout

fae king! satoru whose cock twitches to life when he sees your helpless expression, who wants to make you cry from pleasure instead of pain and fear

fae king! satoru who decides that he wants you for himself

fae king! satoru who sets up a fae trap just for you, one that will tie you to him forever

fae king! satoru who from the shadows watches you stumbling like a newborn foal into his fae trap, eyes wide with relief when you find a hole in a giant sequoia tree, big enough for you to seek shelter in

fae king! satoru who immediately pulls you into his realm, the ground suddenly giving out as you scream into the darkness before the shadow gives out into the fae realm

fae king! satoru who catches you when you fall, your knight in shining armour, your expression widening into one of shock when you see your saviour

fae king! satoru who charms you with his saccharinely sweet voice, who entices you back to his castle where he can provide you shelter and food and clean clothes to change into

"little lamb, you wouldn't deny this poor king a wish, would you?" the silver-tongued man asks you sweetly, his piercing blue eyes flutters prettily as he looks down at you in his arms. "you're royalty too. surely, you know it's bad manners to deny another being of the same standing?"

you contemplate his words, teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip, chewing on it. oh, how did the fae king wish that were his teeth instead, making your lips kiss-bitten and swollen, slick with his spit

his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your body, holding you closer to him as satoru tilts his head down towards you more, ready to hear your answer

fae king! satoru who grins like the devil when you agree, your voice soft and breathy, especially when you say his name

fae king! satoru who takes you back to his lair, stripping you out of your shredded clothes and cleans you up in the royal bathhouse, getting into the water alongside you with the excuse of helping you bathe

fae king! satoru who pays special attention to your perky tits and princess pussy, swiping over your hardening nipples before swirling his thumb over your pearly clit

fae king! satoru who relishes in your whimpers and whines when he sinks his long and dainty finger into your warm and tight hole, curling the digit expertly against your gummy walls

fae king! satoru who whispers sweet nothings into your ear, enticing you to stay with him, to let him play with your body, to let him keep you

"you're doing so good f'me, little lamb," he coos sweetly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his finger curls against the sweet spot in your body, feeling the walls of your cunt spasm and clench around him. "you're doing so good."

you lean back against his toned and chiseled body, back arching as he bullies another finger into your pussy while your body bucks against the heel of his palm, needing friction against your clit. the back of your head rests against his shoulder as you whimper and cry straight into his ear, your sweet sounds going straight down to his already aching dick.

"you're so tight down here, princess," he gently chastises as he sucks a love bite onto your neck, marking you as his. "don't tell me i'm the first one to touch you this way."

your head bobs up and down in a shy nod as your hand clasps around his wrist, keeping his hand there for you to use. you buck and grind, drool pooling at the sides of your mouth as his fingers continuously curl and pump in you. you couldn't fathom how satoru knew your body better than you did, his long fingers prodding and pressing against that soft spot again and again and again, making you see stars behind your eyelids.

"pretty princess pussy that's all mine now," the fae king giggles almost sadistically, a pleasant hum leaving his throat after you cum all over his fingers. the white-haired man guides you through it, prolonging your orgasm until you're overstimulated, your body writhing against his one in the steamy bathhouse.

fae king! satoru who doesn't stop there and decides to make you cum two more times until he finally pushes his long and veiny length into you, stealing your virginity all for himself

fae king! satoru who fucks his cum back into you, deluded into thinking that the more he spills into you, the more likely you'll stay with him forever and ever

fae king! satoru who gives you the most loving and tender aftercare after bullying your princess cunt in the bath until he was satisfied

fae king! satoru who dresses you in his finest and prettiest silks and robes before feeding you food and hydrating you with fluids

fae king! satoru who cuddles and massages your sore body until you fall asleep in his arms, the moonlight illuminating your face so beautifully that he swears you were a fae in disguise and that you had trapped him instead

and little did fae king! satoru know, you who had gotten exactly what you wanted

you who had heard about the elusive but gorgeous fae king who lived out in the forest with looks so gorgeous that it could bring gods to their knees

you who had purposely worn a powder blue milkmaid dress, pretending to be naive and weak and lost to garner his attention

you who had noticed all the signs of a fae trap and willingly let yourself be captured by him as he whisks you to his castle

you who let satoru bathe and pleasure you, letting yourself get lost in his magic touch

you who had saved your virginity just for satoru, believing the old maiden's' tale that whoever takes your virginity is bound to you forever

you who had gotten the all-powerful fae king wrapped around your little finger

#li shen writes - ˚ʚ❣︎ɞ˚ #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk x you smut #satoru x reader #satoru x reader smut #satoru x you #satoru x you smut #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo x you #gojo x you smut #anime smut

[nanaslutt]

playing with transmasc!Gojo’s pussy under the table at an important meeting ˃̵ᴗ˂̵

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

ʚ cont: gojussy, public fingering, clit play, teasing, cum eating

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Gojo gripped his thighs with presusre hard enough to leave bruises on his porcelain skin. Your fingers were relentless against his clit as you used two fingers to rub the enlarged bud in circles, paying close attention to the raw tip of it. Gojo's face twitched as he tried to contain his reactions to your teasing.

The man constantly bit his lips over and over, making them raw and red from all the attention. Thank god for his blindfold, or all the important people chatting around at the table would notice his eyebrows raising and scrunching together in pleasure, his eyes twitching and rolling back in his head; that is if they couldn't tell from all the movement that could be seen from outside the blindfold.

You decided to push your luck, knowing this was working him up. You slid your fingers away from his clit and down further, teasing at his wet entrance. Gojo's leg bounced against the floor, needing some kind of outlet to release his body's need to squirm and move around. One of Gojo's hands shot off of his own thigh and gripped your own harshly, his fingers digging into your skin with the same intensity he was gripping himself.

You didn't even flinch at the contact, instead your own arousal grew as you knew exactly how much this was turning him on now. Gojo cursed to himself when one of the men at the table turned to him and asked him a follow-up question to a point another member of the group made. "His idea sounded find." Gojo rushed, his voice sounding strained and annoyed at his little interruption of pleasure. He hoped his answer made sense, and he was relieved when they averted their attention back to the first man.

Gojo spread his legs instinctively when you started rubbing his soaked entrance with a finger, just teasing it through his folds, rubbing his wetness around. You leaned into Gojo and pretended like you were fixing his jacket to whisper, "Does it feel good?" You watched as a Gojo cracked a smile, his teeth briefly biting his lips before his tongue soothed over it.

His large hand patted your thigh a couple of times before he turned to look at you, smile still on his face. "It would feel better if you put them in," Gojo replied cockily, keeping his voice down so only you would hear it. You smiled in turn and looked away from him at the same time you sunk your fingers into his cunt. Gojo's jaw dropped open before he corrected his little slip and bit down on his teeth, his jaw muscles clenching under the weight of them.

At the angle you were in, it was hard to thrust your fingers in very far, but you were able to curl your fingers up repeatedly into his g-spot, your fingers just deep enough to stimulate the sensitive patch inside him. Gojo thrust his hips up into your hand, his body sliding down the booth a bit as his legs spread even further, giving you more room to work. He sure was shameless.

It was miraculous no one had noticed what you two were up to by now, but the thrill of the situation just made the moment that much more exciting. Gojo's pants and boxers were tight against your hand, keeping your palm pressed firmly against his fat clit, meaning each time you curled your fingers up inside that spongey spot inside him that made him drool, your palm rubbed just right against his clit.

Gojo's hand gripped your thigh higher. You looked over at him from the corner of your eye, keeping your head forward. Gojo's breathing was still like he was holding his breath for a few seconds before he released it and let himself take a few quick breaths of air into his lungs. He always did this when he was trying to cum quickly, something about the oxygen deprivation making his orgasm come on faster.

You smiled and looked forward again as someone asked your input on the topic at hand, which you were subconsciously listening to. Gojo wanted to laugh at how nonchalantly you answered the man's question while you had your fingers stuffed inside his pussy. Gojo had to bite down on his teeth to prevent a choked moan from slipping through his lips when you angled your wrist down more so you could fuck your fingers deeper inside him.

He felt like bursting out in laughter. He was so close to cumming and you were still talking to the people around you. At least that would take the attention off him. He just hoped no one would glance in his direction even for a moment since you were sat thigh to thigh with him, your shoulders practically touching.

Rapid patting of Gojo's hand against your thigh made you stutter in your answer, as you knew exactly what that meant. You quickly passed the topic onto someone else so you could put your focus on what you were doing under the table. You looked up at Gojo, who was facing front, his body wiggling and twitching every so often.

You smiled and looked away, resting the side of your head against his shoulder. Gojo gripped your wrist harshly, his legs shaking and hips thrusting sloppily and shallowly into your hand. He was so close. You started rubbing your hand in a circular motion, jolting your fingers around inside him while still stimulating his g-spot and providing his clit some stronger relief in the meantime.

You once again watched out of the corner of your eye as Gojo's jaw muscles clenched and unclenched rapidly, the corner of his mouth twitching in tandem as he was brought right up to the edge. Just before Gojo came, the table burst out into a fit of laughter at a joke one of the men said, providing the perfect cover for any of Gojo's noises to slip out while he came.

Gojo's shaky thighs snapped shut against your hand when his orgasm hit him, his cunt squeezing around your fingers with each wave of his high that hit him. Only you were close enough to hear the breathy whimpers and choked whines that slipped through his nose, most of the sound getting caught in his throat. You continued curling your fingers against his sweet spot inside him, helping him ride out his orgasm.

Most of the movement from his abdomen clenching and his body curling in on itself was hidden by his clothes, so nothing was suspicious. Gojo's thighs relaxed when he came down from his orgasm, letting you pull your fingers out from his greedy, soaked pussy and out from his pants. Gojo hissed when your wet fingers rubbed over his clit on the way out, making you smile.

Gojo quickly adjusted his now soggy boxers and zipped his pants back up, crossing one leg over the other to help with how sensitive he still felt after cumming. Gojo turned his head to look at you, a smile on his face as he must have noticed how wet your fingers were. He expected you to wipe his cum off on the napkin in front of you, so it made his pussy ache when you sucked your fingers into your mouth quickly and licked off any remaining juices.

"Shameless," Gojo whispered, shaking his head as he placed his hand back on your thigh, rubbing you soothingly. "Says the man who just had a public orgasm on my fingers." You shot back, placing your hand on top of his and caressing his palm with your fingers. Gojo was starting to think these meetings weren't half bad after all.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #transgojo #transmasc gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojou x reader #jjk gojo #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru fic #jjk satoru #jujutsu kaisen satoru #satoru smut #satorugojo #jujutsu satoru #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru x y/n #jjk x you #jjk

[wip]

For a long time now, it's been impossible to see comments or reblogs with comment/tags on posts over a certain age when using the mobile app or blog view. Today I was looking at a post from 2015 that I knew had at least one reblog comment and lots of tags, but all the reblogs were under "other". I found the comment (but couldn't see any tags) by going to the [blog name].tumblr.com/post/[###] link and scrolling through all the notes in one list, but it's impossible anywhere else.

I know this probably has to do with the many changes Tumblr has gone through in that time, but it's still really inconvenient to have disappearing notes on the platform where part of the charm is that posts can survive for, at this point, almost a decade and a half.

Is it even possible to fix this, and of so, is it something you would consider?

Answer: Hey there, @maplerosekisses!

It is possible to fix this, and we would like to fix it, but it’s a daunting problem at Tumblr’s scale. Buckle up for storytime.

Long, long ago, Tumblr was created, and in the beginning, there weren’t even notes on posts. There weren’t even reblogs or likes. In fact, we were one of the first platforms to introduce the heart icon and the concept of “likes”! We created the reblog! Back in those days, each of these actions were tracked separately. Likes were tracked in one database table and reblogs weren’t tracked at all as notes. When we introduced replies, those had yet another way of being tracked in our database. Totally separate entities on the platform for years.

Eventually, we wanted to consolidate these into one number—so we had to count each of those different places. That’s horribly inefficient, and as Tumblr grew in size and popularity, this became a bottleneck that hurt the whole platform. So one of the things we did was to invent a new denormalized database table called “notes,” to track all of these different things in one place so we could easily count them. We still have that table, and it’s still the fallback whenever we need to count the notes on a post.

But this itself is ancient history. Since then, the product has changed even more, and we removed replies and re-added them later, back in 2015 or so—and made some changes in that process to help further improve efficiency. These improvements allowed us to include media in the notes view, and be able to split out replies versus reblogs-with-comment versus likes (kind of going back to the way it was originally.) Even then, we didn’t yet support showing tag usage in the notes—that would come even later.

In the process of making all of these changes for efficiency and functionality, we had to ask ourselves, as you point out: should we try to backfill these new database tables with all of the data from before? For a long while, we were using both systems to power the notes view, so we could display as much information from “before” as we could. Eventually, we didn’t need to do that anymore, because the number of people scrolling back to that “before” time became infinitesimally small. And that's the situation we’re in today.

Because if we wanted to backfill the data, we would need to process literally tens of billions of posts and notes from before 2015, at a conservative estimate. Let’s say it’s 10,000,000,000, for the sake of argument: if we started an automated process to go through them at ~100 per second (which would be relatively safe at our scale, so Tumblr doesn’t break as we’re digging up these old rows in the database), it would take over three years of continuous operation to complete that task.

In situations like this, we have to ask ourselves if that’s worth it. So far, the answer we’ve determined is no. But we may find a more efficient way to do it, there’s undoubtedly a way, and when we do, we will re-evaluate the decision again. We hope that makes sense—trying to make changes to Tumblr can be really, really hard.

But thank you for your question. We appreciate them and hope that goes some way to answering your query. Keep 'em coming, y'all.

#feature #notes #posting #reblogs

[pedgito]

MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Four: Under Your Skin

Chapter Summary: An implosion that changes everything, leaving results devastating but unseen. [5k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: fem!reader, professor!joel miller, inappropriate behavior, reader is delusional lol, background tess/joel (mentions of infidelity), technical infidelity on joel's behalf, unprotected piv, f!oral, angry sex, lack of aftercare, belt as restraints, inappropriate use of a tie & desk, semi-public sex (sorta), angst at the end i'm sorry.

— AO3 | PLAYLIST | PINTEREST

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There’s a deep ache in your body and between your legs as you toss in bed that morning, rousing from a less than relaxing sleep, the faint smell of Joel still lingering on the clothes you fell asleep in, not bothering to change. Licking at chapped lips he’d kissed you so feverishly the night before, you recollect the night in flashes, rubbing sleep from your eyes and feeling riddled with anxiety. 

You reach for your phone blindly, stuffed under your covers as you scroll through your phone, expecting some type of change—an updated grade, a note or two on your follow-up essay. But, there’s nothing. The big, glaring fucking zero staring you back in the face. And for a moment, you feel guilty. You wonder just how badly you screwed things up by doubling down and approaching him so boldly in his office. In his space.

You threatened him and he attacked. Not you.

You never intended for things to unfold the way they did, but you wanted to get your feelings across clearly, even if that meant getting under his skin. 

Joel. Not Mr. Miller. 

Those were two entirely different entities now.

You take your morning slow, enjoying the relaxation of the weekend and taking your time—researching and looking into things you definitely should not be. First, it’s his name. 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t bring up much. His job history was fairly public, no local or national awards, nothing note-worthy and only a few small non-fiction pieces to his name, though you knew there were more—there had to be. With his taste in poetry and fiction you expected something, but came up with nothing. He’s so inexplicably boring to the naked eye and maybe that’s what he wanted. He wanted to blend and disappear.

Curiously, you do more digging on his wife. Who—yeah, it was definitely his wife. A few links later and you stumble upon the marriage certificate, nearly ten years strong. No kids, either.

It was impressive, more than what a lot of people could be prideful about. But Joel, he wasn’t prideful about Tess. He was secretive, dismissive, and shot a look of disgust at his phone every time he received a text, whether purposefully or not.

You find that she works at a law firm, relatively small and headed by two partners. One significantly older than the other—father and son? You squint slightly, searching through the website carefully but not coming up with much. She was a lawyer, that much was obvious.

Still, it didn’t explain the rift. 

What happened?

You try and struggle to find anything rational or tangible, feeling like you might drive yourself insane trying to find out and you spend most of the weekend trudging through the obscurity of things you could find online, very little compared to what you could find out by just asking him.

There’s a tinge of dread in attending class that Monday knowing that no matter how hard you tried, Mr. Miller would never see you the same. He wouldn’t treat you as he had, pedestaling you up above the rest and, though he’d never admit openly, admiring you.

But, god, it ails you. Sickens your mind and keeps you from focusing on anything else.

You needed more answers, more clarification. But, more importantly, you still needed him.

That deep, gnawing feeling of desire in your gut had only grown stronger since your encounter in his office and you feared—knew, it would only worsen as time went on.

-

Joel knew that night that he needed to follow through on his plans.

His lack of trust in Tess, his instability in his life now, and how he couldn’t get you out of his head. The three were a volatile mix and he knew if he didn’t start somewhere that things would quickly grow out of control.

He makes the call to his lawyer the following morning, hungover and tired. Nursing a headache in his open palm as he conversed quietly over the phone. Tess was home, far off and distant in another room but he can hear her shifting around, moving about, and he feels like he’s betraying her. He doesn’t know why he’s filled with guilt and shame—maybe that was partly because of you, his willingness to cross that line for just a moment and kiss you.

It was a momentary slip, his want clouding out his sense of rationality.

You were conniving and manipulative, using his own selfish thoughts against him, his eagerness to aid you in your progress but also allowed a level of vulnerability between you both. Joel should’ve known, he should’ve seen it in the way you looked at him. 

It was admiration and obsession and he fed into it. 

It was something he never had, not even with Tess.

He loved her, sure. Cared about her, absolutely. But the physical connection—sexual or not, had never truly been there. And Joel figures that was why she did what she did, despite how badly it hurt him. He felt at fault for a while, like he had caused it. 

Maybe he did—but he would never have betrayed Tess like she did so easily, even if she swore it meant nothing at the time. Late nights for her were fickle, but they still happened. And that’s when Joel allowed the doubt to seep in and eat away.

But, he just couldn’t do it anymore. He felt like an intruder in his own home.

Tess would be served the papers on Monday evening and Joel would face the wrath when he arrived home, but there was still time. Time to prepare and settle, commit through his day and do his job, even if you lingered in his peripheral as class went on.

Your lack of reaction and response to his unchangingness of your grade gives him a false sign of relief—had you finally moved on from the idea? Joel was clueless to how preoccupied you actually were, chewing on the end of a pen as you sifted through tabs as he droned on at the front of class. Discussion days were always long and dreadful, and as most of the class was discussing the troubled assignment Mr. Miller had given you the week prior, your silence was…required. He avoided you like the plague and you were thankful, to some degree.

Still filled with frustration and simmering rage, you can’t ignore how despite everything—Joel still glances your way. And where his looks before were restrained, subtle and less driven…these were not. Like he was replaying the events in his head every time he looked at you, wondering if he’d tossed your panties out or kept them, if he still tasted you on his lips—at this point, fucking you was the least he could do.

And you know it’s in poor taste, but you approach him at the end of class with a revered look on things—hopeful, even. Apologize, fix your grade, and move on like things never happened.

He straightens a stack of files on his desk as you approach, jaw tense as he swallows and his gaze follows the last few lingering students as you neared on him, like prey. But, your face softens when he looks at you and whatever retort he has on standby dissipates for the moment.

“Um,” You start, unsure of how he would react, “I—can we talk?”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Joel offers logically, “not…now.”

End of day, he thinks. In his office. Privacy. Secrecy. He didn’t feel like airing things out in the middle of the day, not with his divorce on the forefront of his mind.

“I just…I wanted to apologize.” You tell him quietly, “For everything.”

Was it genuine? Not really.

“I can’t change your grade,” He admits, “I’m not going to and it’s beyond the deadline for that assignment.”

You breath sharply through your nostrils and intertwine your fingers in front of you—Joel can see from the way your grip tightens that you’re holding back and nothing has changed.

Unstable and volatile, you both stared at each other for too long, an eerie silence settling.

“That’s—”

He interrupts without much care, “Unfair? Unethical? Don’t start with this. Not now.”

He doesn’t have any leverage here either, but you quiet down under his gaze slightly.

You begin to speak again, but he holds up a careful finger. Like scolding a child for their actions and you bite back a venomous retort as he talks over you, “Meet me in my office at six. Fifteen minutes. That’s all you get.”

He’s on edge, jaw flexing around a tense swallow that feels impossible to get down. He turns back to his desk, ignoring you and ultimately ending whatever conversation you were hoping to have.

He wants you to wait and despite your stubbornness to address the situation now, you settle with his words and nod, a quiet “Okay.” in response.

“Don’t be late.” He stresses, eyes flicking up towards you briefly.

Your insides twist ominously in anticipation, but you feel yourself throbbing with need.

“Yes,” You respond, “Of course, Mr. Miller.”

There’s an urge for praise that Joel bites back.

-

Joel is already opening the door as your footsteps approach later that day, anticipating your arrival and eyes glancing over your figure in the darkened lights of the classroom, the warm glow of his office blanketing you both as he welcomes you in with a gesture, moving out of your way slightly and closing the door to his office as you trailed toward his desk, lingering quietly.

“You can sit.” He directs, thumbs digging into the waistband of his slacks as he adjusts them slightly, the uncomfortable press of his belt pressing into his stomach. Normally he’d undress a little, relax, but he couldn’t allow that. Not with how anxious he felt, knowing what he faced at home, sure that the divorce papers had already been delivered to Tess.

He’s tried to ignore it—and he doesn’t know why he’s worried, but her refusal to cooperate is always an option and that isn’t something Joel thinks he can handle calmly.

“Okay,” You listen, taking a seat in one of the two leather chairs placed in front of his desk, watching as he leaned against the edge of his desk a few inches away, hands clasped in his lap as he looked down, unsure of how to begin, or where, “Um, I can—”

“You need to understand something,” Joel begins suddenly, interrupting you again—it really, really fucking bothered you. He did it on purpose, as a way to assert himself over you, and you felt it in the way he looked at you, down and scrutinizing, “this—whatever this is, or was—it’s inappropriate.”

As if he had a proper moral compass to explain his actions.

“I don’t need a lesson in appropriate behavior,” You counter, “if that’s what you’re leading into.”

“No—”

It’s your turn to interrupt, sitting up straighter in your chair.

“And truthfully, it’s a little unprofessional of you to continue to fail me after I did the make-up assignment.” You respond, a tinge of condescension in your tone, “and you kissed me, if I remember correctly. So—if this is because you’re upset, then I’m allowed to be too. I want a fair grade. Not what you’re punishing me with now because you—for whatever fucking reason, can’t get passed the idea that you had those thoughts too, but can’t accept it.”

“I’m not punishing you.” Joel responds lamely and you squint your eyes slightly as you look at him before huffing out a breath of defeat, chuckling softly under your breath.

“You know—we talked for weeks. Back and forth. And you reached out to me first. So, if you want to deny that then let’s talk about you abusing your power and holding it over my head now after all of that. Genuine talks. You had to care, to some degree.”

“You’re not the first student I’ve talked to outside of class—”

You roll your eyes, feeling the conversation stalling out quickly.

“Do you still have them?” You ask curiously.

Joel doesn’t need to be told. He knows what you’re referring to.

And the guilt on his face as he looks away briefly, tongue pressing into his cheek as he glances at his watch, avoiding your question.

“Am I out of time already?” You ask patronizingly, leaning over in the chair slightly as you struggle to meet his gaze, his eyes pointed elsewhere. “Tight schedule today?”

“What are you expecting out of this?” Joel asks, arms crossing over his chest, biceps stretching under the dark button-up, licking at his bottom lip anxiously. “Are you that fucking stubborn that you think this is somehow going to work in your favor?”

Your face twitches in frustration and you cock your head slightly, rising from the chair and into his space, close enough that you can smell the faint waft of his cologne, looking him over slowly as his eyes fall on you.

“Where are they?” You ask curiously, squeezing yourself between the small space, thighs rubbing against his own as you walk around him, trailing by his desk. “Here?” You point toward the stack of closed drawers nestled in the wood and Joel glances over his shoulder, quick to move as he pushes you away gently, palm flat against your chest.

“The fuck are you doing?” He asks, “You came here to talk. So talk.”

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and test your limits once more, “Oh, so they are in there? Kept them for yourself? You know, this whole moral high ground thing is really fucking annoying, Joel.”

He speaks your name as a warning, but it only makes you feel more at ease.

“What?” You ask innocently, “Do you have somewhere to be?”

Joel chews at his bottom lip and removes his hand from the center of your chest, feeling it sting like a hot brand as his fingers curl around the edge of his desk, feeling oddly small as your eyes track him and watch like he’s some type of prey, a devilish smile pulling at your lips.

He made a mistake underestimating you—or even allowing you back into his office. He was screwed.

“Stop.” He warns, watching as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and reach behind him quickly, yanking at the drawer but he draws your hand up, tight in his grip and forcing you against his chest, your unrestrained hand falling against the desk to catch yourself.

“What’s going on?” You ask softly, feigning genuine emotion. The crease between his brow growing deeper—you’ve spent enough time with him to know when something is bothering him, someone, and it’s written all over his face. “Come on, I won’t say anything.”

“It’s not your business.” Joel offers lamely, feeling you create a small amount of distance as you push away, your wrist still held firmly in his grip, but lower by his waist.

“Is it her?” You ask carefully, “It’s her, isn’t it?”

Another breath of your name—stop here, stop now.

“Did you tell her?” You ask suddenly, eyes widening. “God, are you really that much of a —”

“No, fuck—” He interrupts, “I’m—not that it’s any of your goddamn business, I served her divorce papers today.”

“Oh…” It wasn’t what you expected, not by a longshot. “Was that—is that because of—”

“No,” His eyebrows quirk up slightly, amused that you thought you were the cause of his marriage's untimely dismantlement, “not at all, actually.”

He doesn’t know why it feels like a weight lifting on his chest, but talking about it with you feels…less imposing than he expected. And your eyes soften slightly at the mention, still beckoning something dark but he can see the genuine reaction that flashes momentarily.

He loosens his grip but doesn’t quite let go, thumb rubbing over the vein of your wrist. 

Joel doesn’t understand why he can’t just let go, like he’s weirdly tethered to you.

“Do you…want to talk about it?” You ask, feeling the need to reassure some comfort.

You didn’t really care, but he seemed so pathetically sad. It spilled over and flooded into you, that small tug at your heart. It quickly fades, his mouth opening to speak.

“Not really.” He doesn’t feel the need to bother, glancing at his watch briefly again.

The minutes were ticking down and he knew you were overstaying your welcome—and he was allowing it. But, you here—it feels good. 

“I can’t change your grade,” He reiterates again, “but if you promise to not do something like that again—I can offer some extra credit, something to help make up for it.”

And ultimately teach you a lesson and punish you in the process. Did you really have a choice?

“Extra credit,” You stress, saying slowly as you consider the word, the implication—you don’t think he means it in a nefarious way, it just feels ridiculous, “seriously?”

Joel nods, “Consider it a…lesson learned.”

A small laugh bubbles from your chest but you ignore it, staring down at his touch and speaking.

“You know—I did appreciate the recommendations you made,” You admit, “if that counts for anything.

Joel stares at you, despite your preoccupied gaze, speaking directly.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I care about that,” Joel says, “I give recommendations to students all the time. But, you seemed more interested so–I gave you more.”

“Right,” You say with finality, “and all those nights at the coffee shop?”

“I’m there quite a bit anyways,” He admits, only a half-truth, “you’re not the first student I’ve had meetings with outside of class.”

He’s trying to reiterate to himself that his actions are justified, but his body is saying otherwise.

“Mr. Miller,” You start softly, “can I ask you one more question?”

Silent, he nods again.

“Why are you still touching me?”

And he doesn’t know why, but something in him snaps. The quickening of your pulse under his fingertips, your eyes finally flicking up to him. He does have your panties tucked away in his desk, he doesn’t meet with students outside of his class like that, and he can try and convince himself all he wants, but him reaching out to you was a personal, selfish decision that had nothing to do with anything but his own curiosity. He sees the subtle catch of your breath and doesn’t stop you when he sees you moving closer, quick and determined.

Fuck his time limit, you think.

 If he wanted you to leave he would’ve forced you out by now.

Your lips are soft but forceful, pressing against his with fervor as you slip your wrist from his grip and bury your fingers into his shortened curls, trimmed down at the base of his neck but there’s still just enough to tug, swallowing down his soft grunt as you pull and bite as at his bottom lip.

Joel has the thought to stop you, but he can’t. 

He feels guilty, appreciating the touch that he’s lacked for so long. But, there’s a creeping sensation of frustration that fills him, vexed with you. And it snaps, completely.

His hands finally touch you, releasing a breath into his mouth you didn’t realize you were holding. One hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped firmly around your neck. Just a solid weight that he uses as leverage when you get too eager, nipping at his lip. 

Joel moves you easily, silently as he turns and presses you against his desk, mumbling a soft “Up.” as he aids in the lift of your thighs, taking a seat on his desk as it shakes with the movement and he slots himself between your open legs and kisses you fuller, selfishly.

He’s eager to slip his tongue into your mouth once more, like beforem and you welcome it with ease. Giggling into his open mouth as he squeezes at your throat, the sound breaking his focus.

“So, is this the extra credit?” You speak against his lips, a soft puff of his breath over your face as he keeps his eyes closed, face pressed against yours. “Because I think my fifteen minutes is up.”

Joel can’t do conversation right now, the noise grating in his ears as he blindly reaches for his tie and loosens it, yanking it away from his neck and balling up the material, his eyebrows shooting up slightly in response as he catches your gaze, momentarily confused until you quickly catch on.

Oh, he wants you to shut up. Noted.

He’s guiding the fabric to your mouth before you can properly speak and that’s what he wants, stuffing it between your teeth and forcing you to bite down, his eyes darkened as he squeezes your cheeks between his fingers, shifting a hand under the hem of your dress where it tickles your thighs and you legs widen instinctively, even more. There’s an obvious absence of fabric that Joel notes as his fingers dig into your hips, your eyes brightening at his realization.

And that’s how Joel knows—you never came here to talk. You always had some underlying intention or reason and it drove him insane, but he was a raging hypocrite, wanting it just as selfishly. His fingers drag over your pussy with intention, gliding through your slick and pressing a single digit inside of you with little resistance and you gasp, muffled by the fabric.

“You didn’t come here to talk,” Joel surmises, though it was obvious from the start, “did you?”

You shake your head weakly, eyes squeezing shut as he pumps his fingers and quickly adds another, hand flying to his wrist as he quirks his fingers inside of you and hits a spot that has your stomach coiling in anticipation.  

“What do you want?” He asks hotly, hand squeezing at the base of your neck while he uses his other hand to rub messy, slow circles over your clit. Your hands reach for his belt without question, palm flattening over his cock that was held tightly behind the stiff material of his slacks. “Yeah?” He questions, the subtle squeeze of your hand against his shaft in response.

And part of you really doesn’t think he has it in him to go through with it, but then he’s pulling his hand away from you to manipulate and manhandle, yanking you off the desk sloppily and pressing your front against the edge, fumbling with his belt behind you and pulling it off in a sharp snap, hand flattening against your back as he presses you down.

“Give me your hands.” He tells you, a soft whine of protest coming from your mouth, but then he’s pulling himself from his briefs, cock in hand as he tugs at himself slowly and glides along the center of your pussy, dragging through the wetness. “You want me to fuck you, right? Give me your hands.”

You had control on just about every aspect of his mind—he needed this, the physicality stripped from you.

You oblige silently, face resting against the cold wood as you offered up your hands and allowed him to constrain them tight and snug—he does it with ease. Practice and perfected and he uses it as leverage to pull you back toward him, “So, we have a caveat here. No condom.”

You nod deftly, eyes closing as he tightens his grip and ultimately squeezes the belt even tighter.

“But, something tells me you don’t care—” A shake of your head in response, “—don’t tell me you’re that fucking naive.”

You shrug lamely, wiggling your ass in an effort to move closer, eyebrow furrowing as he moves his hips away slightly. You growl in frustration and spit out the tie, “Fuck you, I’m on birth control. Do you really think I’m that irresponsible?”

His lack of answer is enough of one and he stuffs the fabric back into your mouth with a grimace, “Given your behavior, yes.” He fists himself tightly and slips inside of you with ease, a snug fit but you mold around him perfectly.

And it shouldn’t feel right, but it does. Joel breathes a soft breath of relief as he uses his free hand to fist into the fabric of your dress and use it as a perfect leverage to fuck into you with fervor, disregarding of your own pleasure for the time being—though the angle and the intensity of your thrust doesn’t have you far off, snapping his hips with a furiosity that strikes something inside of you with each harsh movement.

He’s huffing behind clenched teeth, a low growl emitting from his chest as he feels you tighten around him instinctively, sobbing brokenly around the fabric in your mouth, eventually allowing it to slip as you feel his grip shift, pulling you upright by your dress and pressing you back against his chest.

“Why the—sudden change of heart?” You tease, an underlying suspicion in your mind that you don’t speak aloud. He wanted a distraction and you were proving to be a great one. His hips slow suddenly, almost like he’s contemplating a response.

He huffs out a bitter laugh, snapping his hips sharply and forcing a gasp from your chest.

“Do you ever shut up?” He asks, “If I knew you’d be this annoying I would’ve just shoved my dick in your mouth—maybe that would do you some good. You’d like that, huh?”

You giggle softly but it falls off into a broken moan as Joel buries his face into your neck, biting roughly at your skin as he feels himself reaching his peak, knowing it’s been far too long for him—years of lacking sex that quickly divulged into nothing. “I think you would like that, Joel.”

You’re waiting for a chastise that never comes, knowing he hates when his name falls from your tongue—he makes a muffled sound as he loosens the belt with fluid, practiced fingers and discards it to the floor, relieving the growing ache in your shoulders as he crosses an arm over your chest, palm flat against it to hold you in place as he snaps his hips once, twice, before his other hand is digging into the flesh of your own hip as he comes, deep inside of you and with a muffled grunt, teeth leaving a faint impression in your skin—and you’re only slightly disappointed in his lack of attention in making you come, but then he’s pulling out and spinning you around, hands coming up under your thighs to spread you out over his desk, silently pressing for you to lean back, dropping to his knees with his pants pooling low on his thighs. Too impatient to redress fully.

You gasp when he dips a finger inside of you, catching the slow spend that slips out, stuffing it back in as he presses his tongue over your clit and groaning at how you clench tightly around his fingers, spasming at the pressure.

“Quiet,” He warns, “put the fucking tie back in your mouth if you can’t control yourself.”

You can admit defeat, pathetically stuffing the fabric back in your mouth—haphazardly as half of it drapes over your chest, eyes locking on Joel’s as he laps at your clit, fingers stuffed inside of you to keep his cum from dripping out. And it’s so overwhelming that when you do finally come, you feel your vision blacking out, biting down roughly on the silk tie as you claw at the hand he has braced against your stomach, desperately trying to keep your writhing body still.

The aftermath is quiet, jaded—shifting on his desk silently you watch as he redresses, tucking his shirt back into his pants as he slips his belt through the loops, the fingers that were just buried inside of you working so easily against the leather. 

“Satisfied?” He asks suddenly, into the silence as you both lock eyes.

He slips the tie from your fingers, placing it back around his neck and tying it diligently. 

“Are you going to try and convince me you did that for my benefit?” You retort in annoyance, despite how satisfied you actually may be, this wasn’t just on you, “How about you apologize for using me as an outlet for your troubled marriage?”

“You’re not an outlet–”

And as if you spoke it into existence, the knock comes a few moments later. The door opening.

This is the part where Joel’s life finally implodes.

You on his desk, compromising as he still stands halfway between your legs in the middle of shifting his tie and Tess is…stoic. Silent.

“This is what’s been keeping you so preoccupied?” Tess asks, the dooming stack of papers gripped tightly in her hand. “Fucking a student?” Her eyes flicking to you briefly but quickly back to Joel and he nods toward the door, beckoning for you to leave. 

You do, without question. 

 And the aftermath is abysmal.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #tlou fanfic #joel miller smut #professor!joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #my writing #miller's girl #pedro pascal characters

[wildemaven]

he makes life better | joel miller

-> pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x reader

-> word count: 1335

-> content warning: 18+ blog; bad day, annoyed with work, dealing with flat tire, joel being sweet, lots of fluff

-> note: this is for my sweet friend @gnpwdrnwhiskey hoping this brings a smile to her face 💞 this isn’t beta’d either so it’s probably filled with mistakes lol.

masterlist

Joel ❤️: How’s your day going Honey?

I’m so ready for my shift to be over. I’d rather read the dictionary, front to back, than deal with the shit they have me doing today. 

RING

“That bad, huh?” Joel’s voice brings you an instant smile when you answer his call, silently stepping away from the mess that you were dealing with at work. 

“You have no idea. It already feels like it’s been the longest week, today has just added to the shit show life keeps throwin’ at me lately. Went to leave for work this morning and I had a flat tire. Ugh! I’m sorry for complaining.” You vent to him, tucking yourself in a secluded corner. You were going against policy by taking a personal call while on the clock, but you didn’t care about company policy or the outcome of you were to get caught at the moment— Joel was your only focus right now. 

“Hey, none of that. Don’t apologize for being stressed. Why didn’t ya call me ‘bout your tire?” Joel asked. 

You know he would’ve dropped everything the minute did call him, which is also why you didn’t. He had been stressing over starting at a new job site, one of the biggest ones he had been hired for. The last thing you wanted was to add to his already busy day of things he had to deal with. 

“You’d already left for work and had that new job you’ve been talkin’ about. Didn’t wanna bother you with it. I called AAA and had them put the spare on for me so I could drop it off at the tire shop. Now, I’m unexpectedly the owner of 4 new tires.” 

“I don’t care how busy I am— you need something, you call me, no matter what. Got that, Honey?” 

“Got it, Joel. Thank you.” You smile into the phone at his concern for you, always finding ways to make you fall even deeper in love with him. 

“Good. Hey, I gotta go. Tommy looks like he’s about ready to break his back. I should probably go help him before he actually does and my insurance takes a hit. I’ll see ya tonight then, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah. I should be outta here in 3 hours.” The end to your long shift, almost over. 

“That sounds great! I love you, Honey. I’ll see ya later.” You can faintly hear Tommy cursing in the background. 

“Love you too, Joel.” You tell him before the line goes dead. Giving yourself a few minutes of quiet before heading back to join your team and the never ending line of customers. 

The rest of your shift goes by fairly quickly. Joel’s phone call must have been just the moral boost you needed to sprinkle a little bit of extra positivity into your day.

The minute the clock hit 5 pm, you wasted no time clocking out and logging out of your computer for the day. Deliberately bypassing your usual exit path to avoid any chatty coworkers, Joel and home your main focus of the rest of your day, you weren’t going to waste any time stuck in drawn out conversations. 

Your purse thrown over your shoulder, work apron crumpled in one hand and the other holding your empty tumbler that once held the warm delicious coffee you had hoped would sustain you through the day, now wishing it was filled with something a little stronger to help you unwind when you got home. 

It’s a struggle trying to juggle your things as you search for your keys, lost somewhere in the depths of your purse along with the rest of your life's necessities. You pause in the middle of an empty parking space near where your jeep is parked to give the search your full attention. After some thorough digging, you locate your keys and let out an exasperated sigh, one step closer to being home. 

Taking a step forward as you press the unlock button on your key, you look up to see an unexpected sight. A familiar truck in the parking spot next to yours, and the most handsome man leaning on it. He looks like he came straight from the job sight, too. His peppered grey hair disheveled, but his soft curls were still intact even after a long day. The sleeves of your favorite green flannel are rolled up over his flexed forearms that are crossed against his chest, the fabric stretched over his broad shoulders. 

The sight of him is enough to melt away any of the bullshit you had endured over the past week, a completely welcomed surprise. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, letting your feet carry you the rest of the way to him. 

“Heard you were havin’ a shitty day. Couldn’t let my lady end it on a bad note.” He croons, pushing himself off the side of his truck, opening his arms to you. 

You melt into him, your face nestled into his shoulder. His rugged scent of musky vanilla and natural pheromones is permanently infused into the fibers of his shirt, it’s your favorite thing ever. His strong arms wrap around you as he presses a soft kiss to your temple, prompting you to straighten up, looking into his amber eyes. 

“Hi, Cowboy.” You beam at him. 

“Hi.” He says, leaning in to gently mold his lips over yours. “I’ve got a surprise for ya, Honey.” 

“This was enough of a surprise for me. What more could I need?” Stealing another kiss from him. 

“If I tell ya, it won’t be a surprise then, will it?” He says, tilting his head slightly as he looks at you. 

“I guess you have a point.” 

“We’ve gotta get going though, it’s time sensitive.” He grabs for your things and walks you around to the passenger door, holding it open as you climb in. “We’ll grab your jeep in the mornin’, if that’s okay with you?” 

“Whatever you say, Cowboy.” He leans back in for another kiss, before making his way around into the driver’s seat. 

*

The drive isn’t long. Down some familiar roads that lead to a dirt one off the main highway. His truck travels down the gravel road lined with a barbed wire fence. After a few minutes he’s pulling off to the side and killing the engine. 

“You brought me to my favorite place.” Looking over to his side of the truck, where he’s already looking in your direction. Your heart grows at how he thought to bring you here, knowing how much joy it brings you every time. 

“Thought you could use it. Look, here they come.” He says pointing to your window. 

Off in the distance, the small herd of cows were in pursuit of their evening meal and water break. Mamas with their little rambunctious calves trailing behind, trekking along the same path they travel each evening. 

It’s a calming sight. Their heads bobbling with each dramatic step. Tails whipping over their rear ends to swat away the annoying flies. A few stopping mid trek to look in your direction, letting out a long drawn out moo. Their friendly hello, it’s good to see you again, then back on the move. 

The sky is painted in pinks and purples as the sun dips below the horizon. Your day feeling less shitty as you sit silently in the cab of Joel’s truck. His hand resting on your thigh while his thumb draws soft circles over thick denim seam. 

“Thank you for this. Didn’t realize how much I needed it. I love you, Joel.” You tell him, rolling your head over the headrest in his direction. 

“I did it because I love you, Honey. And s’what I’m here for.” There’s a low rumble in the air as he turns the key over, shifting the truck into drive. “Now, how ‘bouts we head on home and I spend the rest of the evenin’ show you all the other ways I love you?”

“Take me home, Cowboy.” 

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us au #no outbreak!joel miller #TLOU #pedro pascal #pedrostories #wildemaven writes

[sunshinebuckybarnes]

time to go home

Pairing: Mob!Andy Barber x female!reader

Summary: You thought you'd slipped out of his grasp but you should have known better than to underestimate Andy Barber.

Warnings: petnames (honey), dark!Andy, threats of violence, controlling behaviour. This blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI.

Author's note: It's rare I go a bit dark but this was very fun to write and I am not above writing more (word count: 659)

"You look beautiful, honey."

Your blood runs cold at the sound of his voice. The deep baritone causes goosebumps to rise across your skin and a shiver to run down your spine.

You had been so careful. You changed your name. You moved state. You waited. You waited years before letting yourself live again. Before letting yourself believe you were safe, that he would never find you.

You'd been wrong.

His name is nothing but a whisper on your lips as you urge yourself not to cry.

You hear the door shut softly the lock clicking into place as your heart sinks.

"I told you I'd find you."

His voice is closer now and you know better than to turn around. You can feel your muscles tensing with every painful second that passes as you wait for him to come closer to you.

This was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. In thirty minutes you were supposed to be walking down the aisle to start the rest of your life with the man you loved.

"You don't love him, honey. Not like you love me."

You spin around on instinct, forgetting exactly who you are dealing with as you prepare to give him a piece of your mind.

"How dare-"

He cuts you off with a laugh and a tight grip on your jaw.

"How dare I?" he laughs, but there's no humour there. Pulling you closer until you're against his chest, wincing as his fingers dig into your cheeks. "How dare you, honey. I've got to say you didn't make it easy. How long has it been exactly?"

You don't answer. Putting all your energy into keeping your tears at bay as you look into the cold eyes of the man you once loved, the man you now feared.

If you had known what Andy was, you would have never let yourself fall into his trap. But, hindsight was a wonderful thing.

Andy was charming, doting, protective and handsome. He was everything a girl dreamed of. He treated you like a queen, you wanted for nothing.

But there were two sides to every coin.

For as charming as Andy was he was just as manipulative. For as doting, he could be just as cold and indifferent. For as protective, he was even more possessive.

You knew Andy was a powerful man from the moment you met him but you had no idea just how much power and influence he possessed.

He made you dependent on him, had you let go from your job, and cut off from your family and friends. You became isolated. He was your only source of comfort and he never let you forget it.

"That's not what love is, Andy," you whisper, no longer able to keep your tears at bay.

The dark look in his eye should scare you but you've seen it enough times. Accustomed to what it means and you know you're not getting out of this this time.

"Just please don't hurt him," you whimper. Thinking about your fiance waiting for you at the end of the aisle.

Andy shushes you gently, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks, "Oh honey, you're really not in a position to be making demands."

Your eyes widen as a sob tears out of your throat.

Sighing, Andy rolls his eyes at your tears, clearly bored by your attachment to a man who isn't him.

"Fine, I'll let him live," Andy concedes, one hand slipping down to wrap around your throat.

You choke on a sob as his hand tightens enough to convey his next warning.

"But if you ever try and leave me again, I will put a bullet between the eyes of everyone you care about. Do you understand?"

You nod weakly, a new wave of tears spilling down your cheeks.

"Good girl," he purrs, placing a soft kiss against your lips and sealing your fate, "let's go home."

This was fun!! I wouldn't mind writing more if any one has any thoughts... thank you for reading, as always comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ✨💜

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber fic #dark andy barber #chris evans fic

[venomous-qwille]

Ghost in the Machine

This is the master post for Ghost in the Machine links, character refs and FAQs.

I will try my best to keep this post as up to date as possible.

What is Ghost in The Machine?

GITM is a DCA AU and a fic set in the retrofuture (2055ish) long after Fazco has shut down. An eccentric collector has been acquiring versions of the Daycare Attendant animatronic from closed locations around the world. The story involves a reader character who has been brought into repair the original post-Ruin DCA from the games, and hijinks ensue. There are also ghosts.

Where can I read the fic?

GITM is currently being posted on Ao3, and is updated every three weeks on Saturdays. The fic is being beta'd by the tremendously talented @bubbiethesaur. You can read GITM here!

There is also a podfic, which you can find here:

Updates to the podfic will be sporadic, so please be patient <3

Where can I see the art?

On this blog I use the #gitm au and #ghost in the machine au tags for GITM related content. If you are looking for art of a specific character, they also have their own tags: #misuta moon #nova #soleil #clip.exe #sunspot mk1 #fool eclipse #ruin eclipse #sombra #sunflower #mr sandman

FAQ~

Why haven't you answered my GITM ask?

One of three reasons: 1) your ask was too spoilery* 2) I'm waiting to answer it with art 3) ADHD

*spoilery includes but is not limited to: any questions about dual-AI or XYZ character's sun/moon variant; questions about character backstories and lore; questions about characters that have not featured in the fic yet (e.g Nova, Sanii, Harvest, Sunflower, Sandman etc); asks speculating about potential future scenarios (don't get me wrong, I love these asks, but I can't answer them!)

Where are all the Moons?

Read and find out. Seriously. There are at least 5 Moons who are core to the plot but I'm not going to talk about them, no matter how nicely you ask!

Does XYZ character have a Sun/Moon counterpart?

Some of them do, some of them don't. The dual-AI stuff is majorly plot related. If I'm not talking about someone's Sun/Moon counterpart, rest assured you will find out eventually. I won't be spoiling any of it on tumblr though :)

Can I create fanart of GITM?

Yes yes yes please do and please tag me when you post it so I can see it/reblog! If you are unsure if something is ok, please ask.

Can I create fanfic of GITM?

Super flattered about this. I have a longform answer to this question which you can read here. But tl;dr yes you can, please tag/credit me, do not spoil/try to write the lore, and please do not write GITM au (e.g mafia, mer, medieval). I have my own plans for this stuff and I would prefer to release the designs/stories in my own time. If you are unsure if something is ok, please ask.

Do you have character refs I can use?

There is a collection of art 'refs' for each character on the Misutamojis discord. Latest link here.

There are no proper call-out sheets/refs currently, but I have a huge body of art for the characters on this blog which should give you more than enough info for most of them. I will get around to creating proper refs eventually, in which case I will link them here.

Where can I find the playlist?

I update the spotify playlist fairly regularly, if you have any music recs you can send them over in an ask! You can listen to the playlist here!

I've heard there are secret GITM drabbles, where can I find them?

I used to post frequent drabbles from future chapters in the DCA Palooza discord, I have recently deleted the majority of them as people were going back and binging them which hadn't been the intended reading experience. Anywho, this question probably refers more to the spicy drabbles (which people have very kindly made a lot of delicious art for). These are still around! You just need to access the spicy channel and do some digging.

Is there a GITM discord?

Nope! There is a server for GITM emotes and a busy thread in the DCA Palooza, but currently I don't have any plans to make a GITM-centric discord community. If that does happen in the future it's likely I will simply convert the emotes server (Misutamojis).

It finally happened, I converted Misutamojis. You can join the GITM discord here.

Can I smooch the robots?

Yes.

All of them?

All of them.

#master post #ghost in the machine #ghost in the machine au #gitm au #soleil #clip.exe #sanii drop #misuta moon #sunspot mk1 #harvest moon #sunflower and the sandman #fool eclipse #ruin eclipse #nova #gitm yn #sombra #SoundCloud

[howtofightwrite]

Was reading through your torture tag and noticed a lot of stuff that was being said seemed to contradict things that were said on the scripttorture blog... do you have any suggestions on how to clear things up? Im not sure which things to trust

And you're asking us, because they've posted once in the last two years?

I'll admit, I have a fairly low opinion of them, and that's not directly their fault. For years, one of their fans, would regularly send some pretty incendiary asks our way. In fact, some of the less hostile ones were answered, and may be the posts you were looking at. Understandably, the ones simply accusing us of being torture apologists, demanding we redirect all our asks to their blog, or insisted that we should sit down and shut up, did not make the cut. With that in mind, please understand, I'm not going to go digging through their blog to refresh my memory, so some of this might be slightly skewed by the aforementioned deranged fan.

Look for the blog that does not constantly contradict or misrepresent their authoritative sources. Which is to say, if you actually pay attention to Shane O'Mara's work, it's basically what we've been saying all along.

If you're unfamiliar, O'Mara is a Neurologist who was (last I time I checked) working at Trinity College Dublin. He published a, frankly fascinating piece, called, Why Torture Doesn't Work, in which, he set about trying to answer why torture is an ineffective tool for intelligence gathering. O'Mara also had the misfortune of being the only expert who said anything close to the perspective Scripttorture wanted on torture.

An open secret about torture is that it is completely worthless for getting accurate information. This has been widely understood for centuries, if not millennia. O'Mara's question was, “why?”

It turns out, that the neurochemical trauma associated with torture, seriously interferes with your ability to accurately access information. For example: If you're being tortured, you can't tell your torturer where you planted the ticking bomb, because your brain literally can't access those memories.

Torture is evil. Yeah. No shit.

And, this is where ScriptTorture stops. “Torture is bad,” and Jack Bauer is an incredibly unrealistic fantasy, end of story.

Except, this is not the end of this.

Now, generally speaking, I don't blame anyone who wants to get off the ride here. Torture is an unpleasant subject, and wanting to stop at, “oh, it's evil,” is entirely reasonable... unless you want to write on the subject, or if you do political analysis and need to understand why people break out the torture implements.

More than that, this is where my academic background in political science actually comes into play. I'm not saying this as an Eagle Scout who had a couple overly enthusiastic hand to hand instructors when I was a kid. This is (part of) what I studied in college, and I have kept an eye on it since then.

If torture didn't work, you wouldn't see state-sponsored torture pop up repeatedly throughout history. It would not be one of the favorite tools of dictators and despots. However, because it does, and it is, simply saying, “it doesn't work,” isn't instructive or meaningful because it's clearly untrue. Someone is finding value in this, so it becomes important to understand what they are doing, and why they are doing it.

When you torture someone, the information they provide is basically madlibs of whatever leaked through their brain. They want the pain and stress to stop, and they'll say anything they can to make that happen. That often takes the form of what they think their torturer wants to hear. O'Mara's research does explain why they don't simply cough up the truth.

So, why do it?

Torture is a very labor intensive process. You (as an individual) can't, realistically, torture multiple victims at a time, and it is a very drawn out process. Some elements can be automated, your torturer doesn't need to be present at every moment, but they're going to spend hours, if not days, working on one victim. Worse, this is actually a technical profession. It's not like you can just pull in anyone off the street and get the results you want. (Though, technically, this doesn't seem to be as true, however, amateurs do have a shocking capacity to screw up torture. So, the point remains valid.)

The value of torture has almost nothing to do with the victim. It's about the message it sends to everyone else.

Torture is about mass coercion of the population. When you are the state (meaning, the government), and you torture someone, you are telling your citizens that you are willing to do the same to them, if they oppose you.

State-sponsored torture is specifically a tool to suppress political engagement. It is, quite literally, state-sponsored, domestic terrorism.

This even holds true in cases where the state employs torture to extract confessions from criminal suspects. The message sent into the general population is that dissent of any kind will not be tolerated, and that the state has the willingness and power to turn these tools on you if you draw their ire.

I get that this is outside of ScriptTorture's area of expertise, and in fairness, I probably would not have studied this with any intensity, if I hadn't taken multiple classes on revolutionary theory.

Torture from private organizations (which is to say, organized crime, and religious institutions, though cults and some other groups might fit this description as well), follows roughly similar patterns. These tend to do the same things, discouraging dissent, and establishing the organization as having power over the population (or community.) (The technical term would be to “establish capacity.” Which is to say, the organization's capacity to enforce its will. The same term applies to states, though in those cases, the state's capacity is often overestimated by its population. It's only when it starts to falter, for example through military defeats or serious civil unrest, that they really need the capacity boosting part of this equation.)

Zealotry or stupidity can create situations where you have a torturer (or, more likely, someone in a position of power ordering the torture) who believes that it is effectively compelling the truth from the victim. This (or amateurs) can easily lead into a distinct problem, which is that all of this has diminishing returns. Torture one person, and you send a loud, clear message. Torture ten, and all you've added to it is that you're willing to keep going. However, as you start stacking up the victims, you do start sending a new message to your enemies, that being, you're going to get to them sooner or later so it's in their best interest to respond now, mobilize and retaliate proactively, before you get to them. This means that a state which leans heavily on torture can easily instigate the civil unrest that exposes their limited capacity leading to a political death spiral. Alternately, if the state does have the capacity to put down the resulting unrest, it further reinforces their position (which does happen with depressing frequency in the real world.)

You're also going to create new enemies in the friends, family, and loved ones, of the people you tortured. This means that any organization that relies on extensive use of torture will, eventually, start tying a noose around its own neck. (Granted, there are a lot of social dynamics that I'm skimming over here, so it's not exactly as simple as “if the state tortures lots of people, it will result in increasing unrest.”)

If you want a partial citation for the above, you can (ironically) find it in a podcast interview with Shane O'Mara, when he explained why torture has been employed repeatedly through history. (Specifically I think it was episode 15 of Your Welcome, by Michael Malice. Though, I'm not 100% sure off hand.) Though that doesn't cover some of the more in depth elements I just discussed. Some of this is coming from a textbook on revolutionary theory I can't locate (it disappeared in a move a few years back.) Though that was more interested in the general structure of a state destabilizing into internecine conflict. Ironically, my preferred citation on torture, Fear up Harsh by Tony Lagouranis is mostly uninformative in this case, because his experiences were on the ground, rather than from a structural understanding of what his job was really doing. However, he does illustrate my comment about amateurs making even more of a mess, both through personal experiences with a few, and also through the eventual trajectory of the invasion and occupation of Iraq.

But of course, torture is evil... again, no shit. Was that really a question? And, I'm apparently a torture apologist for having a structural understanding of why evil people do evil things. Cool. Evil people don't do evil things because they're evil, they do them because they gain some tangible benefit from those acts, and they do not care about the consequences to anyone else. If you ask someone, “why do people do this?” and their answer is, “it's simple; they're evil,” that person is lying. They may be lying to themselves, but they are lying to you.

Why do people use torture? It's a lot more complicated, and unpleasant, than you'd expect at a simple overview.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #starke answers #torture

[hungharrington]

okay but could you please write something about steve’s reaction to the reader thinking her boobs are too small for him? because i needed it yesterday and it’s all i can think about

foh sure my friend <3 fem!reader, 1k, MDNI this entire blog is 18+ other than that, enjoy <3

You don't want to be that girl. Digging up a partner's history and trying on comparisons in the mirror til you're sick with jealousy. You know you don't want to do this to yourself, you know that— especially when it always leads to bitter feelings and bruised self-esteems.

But... Steve seems to have a type, whether he realises it or not.

Dana Williams was at least a double-D cup. As was Cindy Prince and as was probably every other girl that Steve's ever gotten into bed with over his sprawling sexual history. Everyone, of course, except for you.

But hey, you're pretty certain you have the tiny, tiny insecurity under wraps. That you can keep it from ruining the budding relationship between you and Steve that is so good, that tastes sickeningly sweet with how well he treats you.

That is, until you're pressed up against the leather of his backseats, his hot mouth kissing yours, hands wandering up higher and higher up your midriff. You don't even notice you do it — freeze up on him — til Steve is pausing, pulling back from you, panting.

"Y'good?" He asks, licking his lips. He checks your face properly, trying to get a read on you. "Everything okay?"

You nod with a hum, trying to settle the nerves alight under your skin. You don't need to be nervous, really, you know Steve wouldn't be so cruel as to dislike you over something so trivial as small boobs. But it doesn't quell your insecurity like you hoped. You still worry what he might think when his hands start wandering again.

Satisfied with you nod, Steve surges forward again and his kiss finds your neck, suckling sweet little marks into the side of it in a way that has you sighing lustfully in his ear. He nips at your neck perfectly, lips hot and teasing, making you squirm —you arch your back into his chest with another soft sigh of his name, your desire boiling hot.

"Mm, feel good?" Steve murmurs into your skin heavily, just as his hand slides up to your chest. You feel your body recoil just an inch as insecurity blooms a mile wide in your mind and in an instant, Steve is halting, again, pulling back from you. His brows pull together, his concern evident on his face as he searches your face.

"Hey, if you don't want—"

"No!" You interrupt, shaking your head. "I- I definitely want to. Believe me, I really want to." You push up and connect your lips with his, a soft and deep kiss that Steve melts under, getting your message across. When it breaks, Steve looks relieved but still, his eyes search yours desperately.

"Then... what?" He looks around the car, looking for the apparent thing bothering you that he can't spot. "Is it the place? I promise no one comes out here but- but we can go somewhere else if you want? Maybe back to—"

You kiss him again, strong and sure and Steve gives a sweet little hmph! against your lips, his hands on your waist gripping tighter. You pull back but stay close, your nose brushing his and can't help but grin. Steve always looks so flushed with love after you kiss him; cheeks glowing, lips pinker than ever... Your stomach does a flip as he regards you with such ardent desire.

"Okay, okay," He nods, a bit breathless. "If it's not any of that..."

He trails off, leaves it open ended for you to answer and you resist the urge to squirm away from the question. It feels silly now, even more silly than worrying about it earlier all alone in your head. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and decide to just be out with it.

"My boobs!" You exclaim, louder than you intend.

Steve's eyes widen a bit. "Your boobs? What- what about them?"

As he speaks, his eyes drop to your chest and there's no mistaking the hunger that creeps in to his gaze. Not so subtlety, one of his hands moves to adjust his jeans as his eyes move back to your face, waiting.

"They're small." You say in explanation. Steve blinks, head tilting to the side an inch in confusion. "Too small," you say, voice a little smaller. "I know in the past you- well, I don't know but I, uh, I figured that—"

"Woah, woah," Steve butts in, expression a little bewildered. His hands on your waist grow a bit surer in their grip and he tugs you closer, the two of you pressed against one another. "Firstly, Steve Harrington is a lover of all boobies. No matter the size."

He's smiling but you can tell he isn't making fun of you; no, in the way Steve speaks in earnest, tone soaked in seriousness, you know he means it.

"Secondly," He begins, leaning in close, dropping a kiss on your neck. He kisses his way down, lips scraping along your collarbones as he does, pulling back just enough to speak. "I like these boobies," he skims the underside of one with his thumb, enough to make you inhale sharply. Steve grins. "Because of the girl attached to them."

A laugh bursts out of you and Steve lasts only a second longer before he's laughing too, lips curved into a grin against your skin. "That sounded so much better in my head." He admits bashfully.

"That's okay," You say, running your hand over his hair soothingly, even as another laugh titters out before you can stop it. It turns quickly into a gasp as Steve's hand shifts up again, palm covering your tit as his thumb rubbing over your nipple that peaks up in interest. He's already back to his lazy kisses on your chest, still traveling lower and you can't deny how good it makes you feel. The fire in your belly burns hotter.

"Gonna let me show you?" He hums, fingers pinching your nipple in a way that makes you keen. His other hand shifts up, reaching to tug your shirt down — but he pauses before he gets anywhere, still checking. He gazes up through his lashes, big brown eyes pleading for longer taste of your skin and you nod, breathy and hot.

"Good girl," He purrs, pulling your shirt down further, his kisses following suit as he begins to suck the first of many little lovebites onto the skin of your chest. Writhing beneath him, moans pouring from you as your cunt gets wetter and the windows get even foggier yet, it takes only a matter of minutes before you find it quite hard to recall any insecurity whatsoever...

#short and sweet <3 #now i say. nanight #i hope this is okay! #jay writes #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader smut #anon #asks #steve harrington x fem!reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part thirty-five] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, lil bit of angst, smut (mdni ; 18+)

word count: 2.4k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional smut warnings: protected sex, public(ish) sex, switchy minho

“Min, what if we get caught?” you whispered, panting in his ear. 

It was hard to think straight while sitting on his dick but fragments of worries still bounced around in the back of your mind, vague reminders that what you were doing was illegal. It wasn’t as if you were some kind of saint, but you weren’t trying to get yourself on a registered sex offender list- especially not in Hawai’i of all places. 

“We won’t,” he assured you, “anyone who sees us will just think we’re cuddling.”

“Anyone with common sense will know exactly what we’re doing,” you muttered back. 

“Do you want to stop?” 

Minho held you still on top of him, fingers digging into your hips to stop you from moving. You didn’t answer right away.

“Baby?” he prompted, squeezing you tighter. 

The pet name startled you back into the present moment, making you stare down at Minho, blinking at him in surprise. He chuckled and freed one of his hands to rub your lower back under the hem of your shirt. 

“I don’t want to stop,” you confessed. “But if we get caught, I’m killing you.”

“If we get caught, my career is over,” he corrected, reminding you that there were more important things for him to worry about than yourself.

You always managed to forget that Minho was famous. Not even just famous, he was attached to the most popular boy group in the world. If he were to get in trouble for something like this it would make international news. And Minho’s parents would find out. Logically, you knew that his family finding out paled in comparison to the entire world finding out, but the first possibility was more daunting to you. Still, the idea of going viral for fucking one of BTS’s backup dancers on the beach was not something you wanted for yourself. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t then-” you said and started to lift yourself off of him. 

“I want to,” Minho assured you. “But I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because you’re worried about someone seeing. We can take this back to the car if you want, or the hotel, or we can be done for the night.”

You slumped forward, resting against his chest and letting him hold you. You didn’t want to cut it short but you knew you wouldn’t be able to fully relax if you were thinking about every worst case scenario possible. 

“Can we go back to the hotel?”

He nodded. “Of course we can.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, none of that. Don’t be sorry. I want you to be comfortable, yeah? The whole point of sex is to enjoy it.”

You nodded in agreement even though you still felt a little guilty. Minho stood and then helped you to your feet. He gathered up the blanket you’d been sitting on and shook it off. He handed you one side of the blanket and kept hold of the other so that you could fold it nicely. 

“Where’d you even get this from?” you asked. 

“What, the blanket?”

 “Yeah, have you been carrying that around in your luggage this whole time?”

“No, I took it from the couch in my hotel room.”

“Minho!”

“What? I’m going to put it back!”    “It’s all dirty now, though.”

“I’ll wash it,” he assured you. “There are a lot of laundromats around here. Now come on, let’s head back before it gets too late.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him in confusion. “How do you know that? Do you keep a running tab of every laundromat you come across?”

He led you by the hand back up the beach to the pathway to the parking lot, turning his head ever so slightly when he answered you so that you could hear him. “No, I just pay attention.”

“Shocking.”

Minho turned away from you again but you could see him shaking his head. You assumed he was also rolling his eyes at you. 

He threw the blanket in the trunk once you reached the car, and climbed back into the driver’s seat. 

“I don’t suppose you want to take the wheel this time?” he asked after you had already buckled your seat belt. “Since you do have an American driver’s license?”

You gave him a look. “Yeah, but it’s illegal for me to drive this car since I’m not listed on the rental paperwork as a driver.”

“You think we’ll get pulled over?”

“We might! I’m also not old enough, remember?”

He grinned as he put the car in reverse “I know. I was just kidding.”

“Rubbing it in my face again?”

“Of course.”

The drive back to the resort was comfortable. Minho pointed out every single laundromat you passed, even after you told him he’d made his point and didn’t have to keep doing so. You were the one to reach for his hand this time, threading your fingers between his without hesitation. He smiled to himself when you did that and squeezed your hand affectionately, something that did not go unnoticed by you. 

The spot in the hotel parking lot the two of you had left earlier was still open when you returned. Apparently, no one else liked to be out late, even on vacation. 

You let go of Minho’s hand to get out of the car and didn’t grab it again as you walked into the lobby. 

“Are you tired?” Minho asked once you reached the elevators. You knew the question he was actually asking was whether or not you were too tired to go upstairs with him. This was just his not-so-subtle way of asking. 

“I was tired when you dragged me out of bed but I’m too horny to sleep now.”

He grinned. “My room, then?”

“No, let’s fuck in my room,” you said sarcastically. “I’m sure your brother would love that.”

“Hilarious.”

“Thank you.”

The bell on the elevator dinged, announcing its arrival and you shuffled in together. Minho placed a hand on the small of your back and leaned forward to press the button for the eleventh floor, settling back against the wall next to you once it lit up and started to ascend. 

He dropped his hand again when the elevator reached his floor. You missed the warmth instantly. You knew the little things like that shouldn’t hurt your feelings. You weren’t a couple. He was too recognizable to be seen with anyone and have it not cause a fuss. Still, you found yourself wishing things could be different. It stung, even though it shouldn’t.

Minho stopped in front of what you assumed to be his door and fished in his pocket for the room key. He waved the card in front of the sensor, the electronic lock blinking green on the first try.

The room was dark, but Minho turned the entryway light on so that you were able to see into the space. His room was nearly identical to you and Jisung’s. The only difference was that the bed was against the opposite wall.

“You’re not sharing with Felix this time?” you asked at the realization that there was only one bed instead of two. 

“Our parents wanted us to, but we were getting pretty sick of each other so we decided to split the cost of an extra room.”

“Uh-huh, and it had nothing to do with this?” You gestured in between the two of you to emphasize the ‘this’ you were referring to.

“No, no, not at all!” Minho insisted, hand to his heart. “I promise, I didn’t bring you out to the beach just so we could have sex. I didn’t expect for us to- I just wanted to talk.”

Your mind went back to the moment where Minho had seemed lost in thought, like he wanted to say something important and then decided against it at the last minute. Was that what he meant? Or were you reading too much into it?

“I meant to tell you earlier,” he continued, “I didn’t want you to think that.”

“Oh okay,” you said, mostly because you weren’t sure what else to say. “It’s not a big deal if that was why you wanted to go somewhere. It’s not like we really do anything other than hook up anyway.”

“Not because I don’t want to! It’s just, it’s not like we can do normal couple stuff.” 

“You’d... want to do that with me?”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

Instead of choosing to address that, you pivoted. “Um, do you mind if I rinse off before we do anything else?”

Minho didn’t answer right away. He stood there staring at you with a look of concern on his face, bottom lip pulled in between his teeth as he tried to discern your sudden change in mood. “No, of course I don’t mind. But... are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

You shook him off and lied. “No. I just feel gross from the beach. Did you want to join me or not?”

He hesitated again and you could tell he wanted to press further but refrained. “Yeah, of course I want to join you.”

You undressed together in relative silence as you waited for the water to warm up. The mood was definitely different but you hoped you hadn’t completely killed it. 

You could feel Minho’s gaze on you, could feel questions lingering in the air between you, but again he didn’t push. 

You turned around and kissed him to make up for it and he relaxed a little. He let you distract him all too willingly, stumbling into the shower after you with his eyes still closed. 

You pressed Minho up against the tile wall and he moaned into your mouth. He was already hard again, you could feel his dick twitching against your stomach. You reached in between your bodies and took him in your hand, stroking him slower than you knew he liked. It was better than nothing but nowhere near enough and it wasn’t long until he was thrusting into your palm, fucking your fist like it was a toy. You teased him a little, drawing your hand out of reach every now and then just to watch him pout. You couldn’t help yourself. It was payback for all of the times he had teased you and the desperate sounds he made every time you threatened to stop were turning you on more than you would have liked to admit. 

Minho let you think you were in control until he flipped it on you, literally. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he grabbed your wrists and spun you around so that you were the one up against the shower wall. Your back hit the tile hard and you scowled in annoyance.  

“What’s that look for?” Minho asked, hiking your thigh up onto his waist. 

“You couldn’t just let me be in charge for once?” 

He laughed. “I thought you liked it like this.”

You sigh. “I do, it’s just... I was having fun.”

“I could tell,” he mused. “You had this evil little smile on your face while you were jerking me off. It was pretty cute.”

“How could you tell? You had your eyes closed the whole time.”

“That’s not true, I had them like this-” he pauses to squint, “some of the time.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“I did!”

“Can you just fuck me already? I’m tired of you.”

-

“Is this really necessary?” you grumbled, glaring at Jisung as he rifled through the items on the rack.

“Yes!” he exclaimed. 

The boys were going golfing, and being the good fake girlfriend you were, you had no other choice but to tag along. You wouldn’t be playing, thank god, but you had to cheer Jisung on, and apparently had to dress the part to do so. You didn’t have anything suitable for the golf course so Nikki had suggested Jisung take you downstairs to the gift shop to find something to wear. 

The resort you were staying at was right across from the course so the gift shop was full of golf novelties and athletic wear for your... convenience. 

“These are expensive!” you hissed at Jisung once you checked the prices.

“You’re not the one paying for them,” he reminded you. 

“I know, that’s worse!”

“You know how much he makes right? Besides, I’m sure your real boyfriend will love it on you.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, you know that.”

Jisung looked annoyed. “Boyfriend, fuck buddy, booty call, sneaky link, situationship- whatever you want to call him.”

“Can we not talk about this?” you practically begged. “At least not here?”

He shrugged but dropped it. “You should get the polo and the skirt. It matches what I’m going to wear.”

You took Jisung’s advice and bought the items he suggested, paying for them with your own money. Even though they were pricey and you knew you would likely never wear them again, you wanted to exercise at least a little bit of financial freedom. You already felt guilty for the money the Hans had spent on you thus far. 

You thought about keeping the tags on the clothes and then returning them later, but it was hot out today and you knew you’d just sweat right through them. 

Jisung did buy you a little visor without you knowing. He presented it to you with a smug grin as soon as you stepped foot outside the gift shop, once it was too late to stop him. It was embroidered with a little cartoon quokka on the brim.

“We’re not in Australia,” you said, blinking down at the hat.

“Yeah, but it’s cute, right?”

“It’s really cute,” you quickly agreed. “Thank you.”

“Just thought you’d like it.”

He handed you the hat and then set off ahead of you back towards the elevators. You shook your head and scoffed out of earshot. You couldn’t figure him out. Last night he had made it clear that he wasn’t ready to talk, wasn’t ready to forgive you, and this morning he was talking to you like nothing had happened and buying you a sun visor because he saw it and thought you would like it? His mixed signals would give you a headache if you thought about them too long, but it was impossible not to. It was all you could think about. He was all you could think about. Well, him and Minho. 

You felt like an underdeveloped main character in a low-budget coming of age movie who only had enough brainpower to think about boys. Fucking exhausting, all of it. But what were you supposed to do? 

lmk what you think!! i always appreciate feedback :)

#instead of you stray kids #instead of you skz #iou stray kids #iou skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee know x reader #lee know x female reader #lee know x bi!reader #lino x reader #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #minho smut #lee know series #stray kids series

[medakakurokami]

I finished over 100 visual novels, here’s a long post with some recommendations

Last month I hit 100 Finished VN’s over on the VNDB and I thought I’d shoot out some recommendations while the Steam Summer Sale is going on (even though some of these aren’t going to be on Steam)

I already have finished up some stragglers and caught some shorter titles so it’s up to 104 Finished, but all the better. I have been reading some VN’s since 2015, but it really became a hobby and a genre I was invested in during Covid lockdown in 2020. I had trouble getting into some of the popular titles, but a couple of games that were lesser known at that time really blew me away that year and I started digging more into the medium. I still have a lot to try out and other classics I’m still interested in trying, but here’s a top 10 I’m confident in recommending to most people, at least the kinda people that would follow this blog. A few of these recommendations are actually multi-part series, but hopefully accessible all around.

Planetarian ($10 on Steam and Switch, ~$5 on sale)

This is a very late entry onto this list but I think it’s an easy recommendation. This is a very short 2-4 hour visual novel that got a well received 2 hour movie adaptation in 2016, but it was strong enough that even while knowing the plot everything still hit hard. It is a story set 30 years after an apocalyptic event destroys most of the world, as a human junk-trader comes across a planetarium with a somehow-still-functional robot named Hoshino still performing her daily duties after 30 years without customers or coworkers. It can come across as a bit saccharine, but it is a quick, well made, and effective tearjerker.

Narcissu 1st & 2nd (Free on Steam)

Narcissu’s first two parts are pretty compelling stories to do with suicidal ideation within the scope of the terminally ill. Which is to say they’re also real tear jerkers, and pretty open about some harsh self-reflective emotions. They both have stellar endings, and can be quite immersive despite the very limited artwork (if the screencap looks weird, the game’s art exists within a narrow strip on the screen, with a sentence or two reading out the story underneath it). Maybe the least accessible on this list, but a $0 price tag makes it easier in some sense to get into.

Umineko no Naku Koro ni / When The Seagulls Cry (~$50 on Steam, $30 on sale)

Umineko you’ve probably already heard of, and here’s me recommending it. Umineko comes in two parts, on Steam referred to as the Questions Arc and the Answers Arc. Despite the split, the overall story follows the events of a certain day on Rokkenjima Island in 1986 as a family meets to discuss their inheritance and their family’s mysteries. Unbeknownst to them they are soon haunted, over and over again, by the revenant of the Golden Witch said to live in the woods of their family’s island.

I’m in the minority of preferring the Questions Arc, where well written and deeply human characters find themselves in deeply inhumane and nonsensical scenarios. The Answers Arc back seats some of that to start delving into an esoteric explosion of clues and backstories, and was still very entertaining even if I was more invested in the episodic stories than the overarching mystery. This may also be seen as inaccessible, $30-50 for a slightly older title and over 140 hours long on average playthroughs, but it is deeply absorbing.

Witch on the Holy Night a.k.a. Mahoyo ($40 on PS4 and Switch)

Mahoyo is me and Nasu’s marriage counselor, it really made me see the good in him. It follows a young witch co-habitating with her magic colleague and the puppy-like boy that unwittingly steps into their world at risk to his own life, just as unexplained apparent murders are witnessed in their town.

This could possibly be a higher level recommendation, though it was apparently intended to have sequels and you can somewhat feel that in the isolated feeling of its main conflict. Despite this, the game is definitely worth experiencing for its classy charm and extremely well made action sequences that at times make you forget you’re not watching a full anime film. It’s also a showcase of Nasu’s strengths in writing character interactions and comedy, and he finally lets Show take over and stops Telling you piles of mage society worldbuilding quite so often. It is also has some of the highest quality production value I’ve ever seen, second maybe to...

Marco and the Galaxy Dragon ($20 on Steam/Switch, less than $10 on sale)

Marco and the Galaxy Dragon is an explosive opera of art, energy, color, and of course music. It follows the orphaned Marco and her dragon compatriot Arco as they hunt for treasure across the cosmos, finding their way to Earth on the hunt for Marco’s mother.

If Umineko’s 140 hours seems steep, Marco has you covered with a quick 6 hour rundown of a rebellious orphan fighting back against her space alien menace to find her own sense of place and identity in the universe, along with ALL the friends she made along the way. If Mahoyo feels like an anime film sometimes, Marco actually just has fully animated FMV cutscenes that are fun as hell and have their own unique artstyle to the VN itself. Thousands of pieces of artwork and a 52-track OST fill the game’s short runtime with no cut corners and and overflow of passion from the devs. Honestly even if you don’t want to read it go buy it, it’s cheap and they earned it.

White Album 2 (You’ll have to be creative to find this one)

This is the only recommendation that’s currently only available in an adults only 18+ Rating for the English translation. That being said, it’s one of the few erotic VN’s that felt justified in its pornographic scenes. The story is split into two releases: Opening Chapter and Closing Chapter.

Opening is a short and powerfully delivered love triangle narrative following Haruki, Setsuna, and Touma as their hastily formed 3-man light music band falls into itself with feelings. It’s charming but gut wrenching and sweeps you into its drama very effectively before kicking you on your ass in the end.

Closing Chapter is a long and drawn out disassembling of their lives as they fail to heal from the wounds of the relationships seen in Opening. It, to great effect, takes the readers own experience with how fun and passionate the Opening Chapter was, and shows how trying to cling to halcyon days can make us so dispassionate about our present lives. Painful stuff! Good music, too.

The Princess, The Stray Cat, and Matters of the Heart 1 & 2

a.k.a. Noratoto ($40 on Steam for both, ~$15 for both on sale)

This is a very personal recommendation, and maybe one more easy to make on this blog where many of my followers might be receptive to sincere but slapstick ecchi comedy as art. Every route is highly different however and to me, some are pretty average for galge, while others stand out as amazing. The comedy writing as well feels like it was written by someone with actual comic writing experience, and not just regurgitating the usual ecchi manga jokes.

The general premise of Noratoto is the protagonist Nora, being transformed into a cat by Patricia the princess of the Netherworld, and he must reverse this curse via a kiss before it becomes permanent. A benign fairy tale premise, but one that somehow gives way to underlying stories about existence and finding purpose in families and where that leaves those without families or with abusive or divided families (it is from the same developers as Marco and the Galaxy Dragon, and the themes of finding identity without family match up very closely). Uniquely it is a visual novel written somewhat in 3rd person, narrated by a motherly voice as if the VN was being read to you as a bedtime story.

Like I said, it is dependent on route and some come across as your usual ecchi gal-game schtick, but some stick out, and if every route was as high quality as Nobuchina’s in the 2nd game, it would probably be my favorite visual novel.

The Original Ace Attorney Trilogy ($30 on most platforms, $10 on sale)

You’ve almost certainly heard of Ace Attorney already and have most likely played it. This is me telling any Ace Attorney fans reading that the original trilogy still reigns supreme (regardless of Turnabout Big Top). This is also me telling anyone who has held out on trying Ace Attorney to try it, and to start with the original trilogy.

Obviously this trilogy follows the Meme Man Himself, Phoenix Wright, as he defends the innocent and brings the guilty to justice acting as both lawyer and his own main investigator. While each case presents a unique mystery, the original trilogy has an underlying arc that reaches from beginning to end with a massive conspiracy that Phoenix has to breach to bring justice to the perpetrators and resolve the memory and regrets of his beloved mentor.

These games have some speedbumps as you may be banging your head against the wall trying to find the right evidence, but the experience that breaks through does so with gusto, succeeding on what it sets out to be: games that make you feel like you’ve brought justice to the world.

Utawarerumono Trilogy ($40/60 each on Steam, trilogy bundle $62 on sale)

Utawarerumono was my first proper visual novel, and it set the standards pretty high. I’ve posted about it several times in the last few years, and it remains one of my favorites. It is a labor of love on the part of the developers (the same developers as White Album 2), who developed the latter two games over the course of several years and have made this the spearhead of their company for the time being. Which makes sense, since it is about war.

The first game follows a masked man who is given the name Hakuoro waking up in a rural village with amnesia, confused about the strange population of beast-men living there. Despite not understanding his situation, his ingenuity brings the village prosperity. When the local lords try to put the village under their thumb, Hakuoro and the villagers are able to turn the tides against them. Their village grows into a kingdom as Hakuoro seeks the mysteries of himself and the world around him.

The latter two games pick up some twenty years after the conclusion of the first, and follow a man who is given the name Haku, waking up in the woods with amnesia confused about the... you get it. He is met by Kuon, a young girl on her way traveling to the capital of their nation of Yamato. Haku graciously accepts her help getting out of the cold woods, and decides to join her to the capital. As events play out, Haku finds himself under the direct command of the nation’s leader the Mikado, and carries out missions on his behalf as the nation continues to drag itself into war and conflict and Haku also seeks the truth of his identity.

These games are expansive in scope while still putting a large focus on the day-to-day lives of its characters. Around 100 hours across all three games it is impressive how much story it manages to fit in, but the pacing does bounce around between sweeping conflict and sleepy conversations. It is also in part, a strategy RPG game with the battles in the war being controlled by the player. These are decently made, especially well in the third game, but don’t ask too much of the player and the story remains the main focus and biggest portion of the runtime.

The House In Fata Morgana a.k.a. Fatamoru

($40 complete version on PS4/Switch, ~$40 main game + expansion on Steam)

I’ve gushed about this enough on this tumblr, I’ll keep it brief.

You are a formless soul who is led by the hand of a mysterious maid through the doors of a mansion on an unknown plane of existence. Through each door lies a story of the house in a different era, all following people bound together in ways that leave them cruelly and violently undone by the end of their stories. The connection between these stories, the mystery of the house and the supposed witch that resides within, and the mystery of You the wandering soul all slowly unravel in a bloody show of catharsis and soul. The game is dripping with traumatic poetic text, grating beautiful music, and all of its atmosphere geared toward being oppressive yet enticing. One of the best things I’ve read.

Honorable mentions:

Va-11 Hall-A and Endless Mondays get shout outs as some of the best Original English Language VN’s I’ve read, with cool artstyles and a mature cast they manage to be fun and relatable. Va-11 Hall-A delivers a great arc for its protagonist and Endless Mondays has great dialogue on the threat of automation of creative industries.

Grisaia Trilogy and Hatsumira are both absolutely raucous trilogies that are a lot of fun. Not wholly recommendable to all, Grisaia has some strong moments and a hilarious unique cast but is a mess overall (but we love Michiru). Hatsumira is a bit more consistent, a more stable and fantasy-oriented Grisaia.

A.I. The Somnium Files duology are detective games with highly divisive endings, but great comedy and characters that make them very easy to get through and enjoy the whole way to the end. It’s just a toss-up whether you’ll like that ending.

Sakura Wars games are finally being translated, and they are a great showing for anyone who wants to try some classic dating sim stuff but with some pizazz thrown in with the setting and mecha combat.

The Tears to Tiara duology by the same developers of Utawarerumono and White Album is also one to keep an eye out for. The first game's definitive version isn't available in English and the second game is stuck on the PS3 and no longer available digitally, but if they ever come out on Steam they are worth your time.

Nanairo Reincarnation and Kinkoi: Golden Loveriche are also two solid ecchi comedy galge. Both have surprisingly deep and genuinely heartbreaking underlying mysteries and conclusions.

I still have a lot I wanna read, Planetarian is the only Key novel I’ve read. On the docket are Labyrinth of Galleria, Little Busters, the 9 -nine- series, and Kara no Shoujo and White Album 1 releasing on Steam this year. Some classics I didn’t mention are Fate/Stay Night, Muv Luv, Steins Gate. Muv Luv I read Extra and enjoyed it, but never pulled the trigger on reading the rest, I may at some point on a whim. Steins;Gate I played through half of on PS3 and now my PS3 is in the closet, the VN is really good and has a unique atmosphere to the anime, buuuuuuut knowing the plot has made it hard to want to restart on PC or another console. Steins;Gate is good, if anyone is reading this far and hasn’t seen the anime or read the VN, do it.

#long post #i'll only tag the main ones #planetarian #narcissu #umineko #witch on the holy night #marco and the galaxy dragon #white album 2 #the princess the stray cat and matters of the heart #noratoto #ace attorney #utawarerumono #the house in fata morgana

[ardafanonarch]

Welcome! This is an Ask-based meta blog for looking into the intersections of fanon and canon in The Silmarillion fandom. 

What does that mean?

“Fanon archaeology” means digging into the canon texts to theorise about where fanons come from. It's a bit like a "fanon mythbusters" blog except that nothing is being busted. The aim here is to investigate in a spirit of curiosity and fun that celebrates fandom creativity. It is not to criticise or argue against. It is also a great place to send in a Ask about the various “versions” of canon you hear about in this fandom.

Ask Guidelines

To be revised as the blog evolves.

Currently only taking Asks primarily to do with the Years of the Trees and First Age.

Please be respectful in your wording. Avoid language that is judgmental or generalising. For example, instead of saying, “I hate that everyone thinks Sauron tortured Maedhros, can you set the record straight?” just ask the question: “Where does the idea that Sauron tortured Maedhros come from?” 

We don't do meta on the canonical basis of ships (Vingilot excepted). This topic is very subjective and outside the scope of the blog.

Responses will focus on links to canon, not fandom history.

We will try to answer approx. one Ask per week. 

Replies to anon asks will be tagged #anon.

More info below the cut.

Why bother with this?

The entire corpus of works published by J.R.R Tolkien or his son Christopher is massive, difficult to navigate, and not always accessible. Many fans are curious about the relationship between fanon and canon but perhaps don’t have the time, energy, or resources to dig into the texts. We’re here to do the archaeology: excavate the quotes, dust off the footnotes, and report back on the findings. 

Who are you?

Currently this blog is run by one person, but to avoid any confusion between my individual takes and the intended objectivity of this blog, I am keeping my fandom identity on the down-low. I am not a scholar or an expert, but I love researching and writing meta. For now the blog is Silmarillion-focused because that’s my area of interest and knowledge. If and when the blog grows, I hope to expand to include other Tolkien canon and invite fandom community members to contribute responses to Asks.

This is a positive space.

We love fanon, canon, and the creative process that connects them. Positive, constructive, and supportive engagement with our posts is encouraged. Negative, hostile, offensive engagement is not, and we may block users who choose to engage in this way. 

Please be respectful of the community and remember we are all just here hanging out because we love the works of J.R.R. Tolkien. 

#guidelines #mod post #ask guidelines

[thatredheadwriter]

Softer

din djarin x female reader

Your aloof Mandalorian employer, and dare you say friend, is surprisingly considerate when it comes to your monthly cycle.

I just started The Mandalorian and I’m already obsessed. I also just happened to be on my period, and I needed to work through some writers block. So please enjoy fluffy, awkward Din.

This is a SFW oneshot for female reader with Din Djarin of The Mandalorian. This work does not contain smut, however, it may contain mature language or themes, and as a rule, my blog is only for those over the age of 18. As a writer, I will attempt to make accurate warnings for each of my fics, however, I cannot guarantee that I will identify each and every sensitive topic. My works regularly contain swearing, allusions to/mentions of sex, and canon-level violence.

Warnings Include (but are not limited to):

Swearing (English and Star Wars canon languages)

Menstruation (this shouldn’t have to be a warning)

The expectation for men to be dicks about menstruation

Din is the sweetest

Din is kinda stupid and walks in on someone changing

helmetless!Din (just a little)

Mutual pining

Please read at your own discretion and consume your fanfiction responsibly.

You woke up feeling sticky.

The gentle hum of the ship around you was nearly enough to lull you back to sleep, but the stickiness between your thighs and the cold sweat on your skin left you far too uncomfortable to even think about going back to sleep, despite the fact that your watch told you it was far too early for any living thing to be awake.

“Dank farrick,” you cursed, sitting up carefully, sure to duck your head and avoid the shelf above you. With a groan, you slid out of your ‘den’, as Mando referred to it, gathered the blankets you’d been sleeping on, and stalked off towards the laundering unit.

You knew your cycle was due soon, but ever since joining the small crew of the Razor Crest, it was harder to track time. It was the inky blackness of space, the way days would run together. It had nothing to do with your distracting companion, your boss, who stalked around the ship as a brooding pile of armor. The companion you were starting to become strangely attached to.

The laundering unit was empty, thank the Maker. You were just finished shoving the soiled bedding into the chamber and digging around the storage area for the right soap to add, but then a gloved hand clamped down on your shoulder and you yelped.

“Shit, Mando,” you clamped a hand down on your chest to steady your breathing, “How is someone covered in so much beskar so quiet?”

He didn’t answer you, of course, only tilting his helmet at you as he leaned against the wall of the ship. “What are you doing up so early?”

Your stomach churned, only partially from the cramps. There wasn’t much you knew about the mysterious Mandalorian who hired you–hell, you called him Mando, you didn’t even know his name. But you had deciphered he was human, based on his hands. They were the only part of him you’d ever seen without the armor, once when he was tending to a particularly nasty burn you’d picked up trying to fix the main cooling unit. His touch had been surprisingly soft, and you’re loathe to admit you’ve dreamed about it every night since.

But you also knew he was a man. And most men you’d met, even if they belonged to a mammalian species, were distinctly uncomfortable with the idea of menstruation.

“Uh, no particular reason,” you shrugged half-heartedly, finally finding the laundry powder you needed and pouring some into the appropriate compartment of the machine. The bright green bottle of fabric softener was easier to find.

You’d mentioned once how you missed using it, the smell in particular, and on the next supply run, there it was amongst the rations and parts. You hadn’t asked for it, but he’d remembered anyways.

“Why are you doing laundry?” he nodded at the machine. Dammit, he was suspicious.

“Well, it’s just been a while since I washed my bedding. Don’t want to be gross,” you made a face at the last bit. Not only was the conversation making you uncomfortable, but also the growing wetness between your legs. You were grateful for your black leggings and tunic, disguising the mess.

“You washed it eight days ago.”

Shit, why did he have to be so observant?

“Look, maybe I was eating in bed–which, I know, I know, crumbs lead to pests–and I might have spilled a little something is all,” you tried, putting on your best sheepish face. It was working, it seemed, he pushed off from the wall and headed behind you towards the galley. But before you could start the unit, he had slid in between you and it, popping open the door, and pulling out your blanket.

“Blood?” he inspected the fabric.

Suddenly you were pressed against the wall of the ship, gloved hands flying over your body. But not in the way you’d dreamed about that one time. This was clinical, urgent.

“Where are you injured?” he knelt in front of you, searching for any obvious wounds, any signs of pain. The visor of his helmet was tilted up at you, and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

“I’m not injured,” you pushed his hands away from your arms. “Please Mando, I’m fine.”

He stood up to his full height but didn’t let you go. “You’re bleeding, you’re not fine. Tell me what’s wrong now, or I’m taking us to the nearest starport to get you checked by a medic.”

Your face burned. Why did you have to work for the one person in the galaxy as stubborn as you?

“I’m not injured,” you reiterated. “I’m-I’m menstruating,” you mumbled out, staring at the grated floor below you.

“What?”

“Dank farrick! I’m menstruating,” you practically yelled at the shiny surface you’d come to consider as his face.

He immediately took a step back. Great, now he’s disgusted and wants nothing to do with you.

“Look, I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable, but you’re so kriffing nosey…” you trailed off, crossing your arms across your chest and trying to seem aloof. Not like your damn hormones were making you want to cry and scream and eat all the cold rations all at once.

“I’m not uncomfortable. I’m sorry for prying,” he spoke softly.

“It’s okay,” you chewed on your bottom lip.

“You should go clean up.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, slipping away towards the fresher and made it inside before you broke, the tears streaming down your face. You weren’t sure why. Mando wasn’t mad at you, he wasn’t shunning you. He almost seemed to care.

Stepping into the spray of hot water, you allowed your tensions and emotions to diffuse into the steam around you. As red swirled around your feet and down the drain, you couldn’t help but think about what softness might lay under all that beskar.

Eventually, you cut off the water and dried yourself with one of the threadbare towels hanging by the door. It wasn’t until you were ready to step out that you realized you’d forgotten to get clean clothes to change into. So you wrapped the towel around you and hoped you could get back to your makeshift bunk before you started bleeding everywhere.

But when you opened the fresher door, there was a stack of neatly folded clothes settled right where it would be impossible to miss. And on top, an absorption pad. Your face heated at the thought of your big scary boss going through your quarters to find you clean clothes–clean panties, you realized–and a pad. As horrifying as it was, it was an overwhelmingly sweet gesture, like the fabric softener.

He’d chosen well for you: a pair of soft, loose-fitting pants that tapered at the ankles and an old but soft t-shirt you’d had for ages. You were also grateful he hadn’t brought anything frilly or lacy from your underwear collection, not that there were a lot of options like that, but rather a simple pair you’d chosen to match your skin tone. He hadn’t brought you a chest cover, but you didn’t mind so much. The t-shirt was large enough that you felt modest even without one.

Running a hand through your damp hair, you checked that your blankets were still cycling through the laundry unit before slipping into the galley, making sure to step heavily in your bare feet to announce your arrival. Once you’d almost snuck up on Mando when he’d been eating, sans helmet, and you weren’t anxious to repeat it.

But he wasn’t sitting around the table. No, he was standing in the small kitchen. And something smelled really good.

“Are you cooking?” you asked incredulously, sliding into the bench by the table.

It was easier to read him–at least from behind–when he wasn’t wearing his cowl. You could see his shoulders stiffen before he turned around and fixed you in the icy crosshairs of his visor.

“Yes. It’s an old recipe, the warriors in my covert who have cycles say it helps.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. It was inarguably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you.

“Here,” he grabbed a steaming cup of something from a nearby workbench and set it in front of you. It smelled of cinnamon and herbs, and reminded you of Mando himself. “Behot shig. It’ll help.”

You took the container in your hands, allowing the warmth radiating from it to seep deep into your bones. It tasted similar to the tea of the last planet you’d been on, but without the sickly sweet aftertaste. A heady buzz settled into your veins and you sighed.

“Thank you.” You finally managed the words you’d wanted to say for the last hour, staring deep into the amber liquid.

He was quiet for a moment, save for the breathing of his respirator and the crackling of whatever was on the stove.

“You’re welcome.”

While you waited for him to finish the meal, you pulled the holopad from its place in the wall and began running your daily diagnostic check.

“The main cooling unit is down again,” you groaned, leaning your head against the wall in frustration. If the cooling unit wasn’t working, the hyperdrive would suffer a catastrophic failure, and you’d be in deep shit. “I could have sworn it was the condenser coil, but I replaced it last week. At this rate, it’s gonna be cheaper to replace the whole unit.”

Mando grunted as he set a plate full of food down in front of you. It looked good, you could smell the spices and the colors were far more vibrant than what you were used to in ration foods.

“I’ll take care of it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Mando, please. I may not be some hardcore Mandalorian warrior lady, but I can still do my job.”

He was silent for a minute. You imagined you were looking right into his eyes, although there was no way to tell. This was a stare-down. And maybe he was stubborn, but so were you.

“Ok,” he agreed quietly, “But take it easy. Let me know if you need anything.”

You didn’t see much of Mando for the day, which wasn’t necessarily odd. But usually, he’d check in on you once or twice throughout the day just to make sure you weren’t ruining his ship or dead. Aside from passing him in the hallway once, you didn’t see him all day. He seemed to be busying himself with a project in the bunkroom, his personal quarters. You’d only been inside a few times, and never more than a few minutes at a time.

It wasn’t until you went to get your blankets from the laundry unit and found it empty that you thought anything of it. Okay, maybe Mando was being nice and put them back in your makeshift bunk. But they weren’t there either. In fact, all of your belongings were missing and the little space between crates that you’d transformed into your own personal nest was closed up.

If ever you were going to lose your cool on Mando, it was now. You’d woken up early, spent damn near three hours shoved in the tiny, unbearably hot compartment next to the broken cooling unit. Your back and stomach were killing you despite the painkillers you’d taken earlier in the day. All you wanted to do was crawl into bed and go to sleep.

That’s how you found yourself close to angry-crying as you pounded on the door to Mando’s quarters. You wanted your stuff, you wanted your blankets, and most of all you wanted to sleep.

“Mando!” you hit the door with the side of your fist as hard as you could, producing a satisfying banging sound. “Where’s my shit, dammit?”

Suddenly the panel slid open and you were able to catch yourself before hitting him square in the chest plate. Not that it would have hurt him, just embarrassed you.

“Come here,” he ordered, stepping aside for you to enter his personal quarters. You eyed him warily, like a mouse entering a lion’s den.

You followed his gaze–well, what you assumed he was looking at–to the wall opposite his bunk. Where before there was just empty space, a blank wall, was a new cot.

Now, new may have been an understatement. It was semi embedded in the wall, like Mando’s own bed, and you could see where he’d cobbled it together from spare parts. The mattress wasn’t anything spectacularly luxurious, but it had been made up with your favorite blankets. Your favorite feature was perhaps the privacy screen.

“This morning reminded me of my promise, when you first joined my crew, that I would get you a proper bunk,” he spoke behind you, watching you admire his work. Behind the modulator, you could almost detect a hint of nervousness.

You turned to face him, biting down on your lower lip to keep from crying. “It’s wonderful, Mando. Thank you,” you whispered. It was truly the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you. He was literally making room for you in his life.

“If you feel you don’t have enough privacy, we can figure something else out. I’ve been-”

“Really, it’s perfect,” you grinned, earlier anger forgotten. “You’re sure you have enough privacy? I don’t want you sleeping with the bucket on just because of me.”

“When it’s dark…” he moved to the control panel by the door, hitting a blue button and plunging the room into darkness. The only source of light was the same blue button on the wall and a green button on the door to the fresher. “You can’t see me.”

“Perfect,’ you nodded, not sure if he could see you.

He hit the button again and you winced as the lights came back on. You stared at each other in silence for a few moments, neither one of you with much to say.

“I, uh, I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” you said awkwardly, wrapping your arms around your middle and trying not to wince as another cramp rolled through you.

“Your things are in your trunk tucked away there,” he gestured to a small compartment where you could see he’d placed your belongings.

“Thanks,” you smiled once more and knelt to gather some sleep clothes.

“You can use the fresher in here if you’d like,” he said almost awkwardly. “I’ll leave you alone now.”

Before he could get out the door, you were on your feet again, grabbing his arm. He was unfamiliar with this kind of contact with you, and you felt like he might snarl at you like a wild animal. But he simply fixed you with his visor’s gaze.

“Thank you. For everything,” you said sincerely, offering a small smile. He grumbled something under his breath and left you standing by your new bed.

Alone again, and finally close to the peaceful oblivion of sleep, you began preparing for bed. First, you went to the fresher to relieve yourself and change your absorption pad before pulling a favorite pair of sleep shorts from your collection. Stripping down to your underwear, you shimmied them up over your hips and began rummaging for a tank top you knew was in there somewhere.

You’d just found the elusive garment and stood up to put it on when the door slid open. A yelp of surprise escaped your lips and you heard Mando say something unfamiliar in Mando’a before quickly shutting the panel back.

“I’m sorry,” he called through the comms unit on the other side of the door. “I brought you something.”

You tugged the shirt over your head and tried to slow your heart rate as you made your way to the wall panel, opening the door to let him in.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. You could tell from the tilt of his helmet that he was not looking at you. Not even as he handed you a water bottle, a painkiller, and some strange pillow-like thing. It was almost tacky on one side, and the other was metallic, and yet the whole thing was soft and flexible.

“It’s alright,” you set the items on your bed. “I’m sure there’s going to be an adjustment period for…this.”

He nodded, turning to survey the room. It made you giggle, to think that the big bad Mando couldn’t even look at you now. You’d imagined his face a million times, but now you imagined him blushing.

“I’ll leave you alone now,” he grunted, leaving you with your thoughts.

You took the painkiller and drank most of the water. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and you could feel your eyelids drooping as soon as you slipped in. As you lay on your back, staring up at the rough metal seams and fastenings above you, you wondered what the hell this thing was that Mando had brought you.

Then you remembered. The second bounty he took after hiring you. The locator was taking him towards Hoth and he’d picked up some extra supplies to deal with the extreme climate, including a personal warmer.

You lifted your shirt at the bottom and pushed your shorts down slightly so you could lay the tacky side of the warmer against your skin. It was only a moment later that you found the controls, and you sighed in relief as warmth spread through your lower abdomen.

You hated to move once you finally got comfortable, but you still needed to turn the lights off, so you hauled yourself over to the panel and hit the button before fumbling your way back in the dark. It wasn’t long before you fell asleep. It was so fast that you forgot to draw the privacy screen.

When Din finally returned to his quarters, now your quarters too, he reminded himself, he was careful to listen for movement. He certainly didn’t want a repeat of the evening’s earlier incident.

He’d never been so kriffing embarrassed in his life. Except for maybe later when he caught himself thinking about your tits as he ate his dinner. They were just so perfect and soft-looking. He’d only seen them for half a second, but he knew they’d haunt his dreams for years.

He felt dirty for thinking of you that way. You were his employee, his coworker,  his friend. But Din liked caring for you. He wanted to do so much more than he did, than he could, but he knew you wouldn’t allow it. It would be inappropriate for a superior to look after his subordinate like that. 

Sometimes he wondered if you harbored anything for him other than friendly cooperation. Like the time he’d come back from his hunt on Hoth half frost-bitten and you’d insisted on staying awake with him until his vitals returned to normal. Or the one time you made him dinner, a secret family recipe you’d called it, and sat blindfolded across from him as he ate, just so you could share a meal with him.

But then he reminds himself that you don’t even know his name. And he doesn’t know much about you other than your name.

So Din resigns himself to maintaining a professional relationship with you as he opens the door to the living quarters. All that’s thrown out the window the minute he sees your sleeping face tucked softly into your pillow, legs curled up in front of you. Soft breaths leave your mouth and he can see the lights of the warmer from under the blanket.

As the door shut behind him, plunging him into darkness, he removed his helmet. He’d been living aboard for so long, that it was easy to find his way to your side even in the pitch black.

He leaned in, placing a kiss to your temple. “Good night, mesh’la,” he murmurs into your skin.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin fluff #mando fluff #din djarin x reader #din djarin x reader fluff #mando x reader #mando x reader fluff #star wars #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic

[talesfromdvalin]

A DARK HORSE

cr - @jam8366 You're teaching Neuvillette how to feel. Translate or reblog is alright, but only if you remember, that I may ask you to delete if I would not alright with your blog. Thank you. The place I live most of all. MASTERLIST.

He's learning to understand human emotions, though he's finding it difficult - the longer the water dragon ruled the court, the more questions clogged his head. He had no suitable answers. Everything that brought him thoughts was keyed from within the fountain of Lucine, and that is where Neuvillette goes when he gets unbearably homesick.

"Dreary," of course, is a relative term. The loneliness of a water dragon is very different from the loneliness that Furina experienced; and yet it runs through his veins.

Neuvillette noticed you around the same fountain more and more often. Usually you were already gone when he approached, but he was fascinated that your voice was nowhere to be found in the vastness of the ocean. He'd never heard it, of course, but Neuvillette would certainly recognise it. So why do you come?

Neuvillette asked you that question once. He stayed to wait, and when the time came, he approached. His voice sounded particularly quiet, not like the ships. You laughed - it made sense why Nyovilette had not heard your fate.

It brought mystery. What did your soul weep for, what did it rejoice in, what did it love? The man - aka absolutely anyone - aroused curiosity. Like a small child wanting to stir up an ant's nest to see what was inside.

Of course, he wasn't interested in you alone. Every man is exceptional; that makes him a mass into which Neuvillette had yet to burrow. If the local waters helped him to know the hidden things, how do people cope without clues…?

Neuvillette looked at the little child. The mother standing beside him was comforting, oohing and aahing and fidgeting around the boy who had fallen. A small scratch on his leg, a consequence.

Did it hurt…? Neuvillette watched from a distance, trying not to draw attention, but your appearance made him flinch. Yes, he couldn't understand why the boy was crying over such a trifle - how vulnerable the soul must have been born, or how weak the human body was…? It would have been reasonable to ask, but the water dragon was not used to intervening on his own. Besides, it was a kind of detective game to try his hand at being a spiritual and material expert, digging out clues and putting them together. Except that you brought a red stain to Neuvillette black and white picture, diluted with water, and he learnt that the child was crying not because of pain or sadness, but because his mother was letting him know that the fall was something scary, and that if the parent had just laughed and picked the boy up, nothing would have happened.

Honestly, it didn't fit into Neuvillette understanding, but he chewed over everything you gave and accepted it. Who better to know the man than the man? He is often rather uncomfortable asking people directly why they do things this way or that, and although the water dragon has cultivated an immunity to embarrassment, it is probably best to have his own 'guide' to the new world so as not to disturb and worry the people. It could very well have been you, but…. you had your own reasons for refusing.

You didn't like people. Or rather, you didn't like being among them. Neuvillette didn't offer any requests or deals for that very reason-being a "guide" meant taking you out of your comfort zone, which was something a man couldn't afford to do, to put it mildly. Still, there was one feeling that made Neuvillette both anxious, curious, and indifferent. He wanted to learn these subtleties, but preferably not on himself, and so the water dragon carefully searched for manifestations of family love, fake love, sincere love, romantic love and friendly love.

"Well, you can take care of me," you said jokingly when Neuvillette shared an inquisitive fact, "and I'll take care of you. And we will experience love whether we want to or not."

From this expression Neuvillette concluded that love could not be chosen but he did. It was a conscious decision to be more interested in you than in others.

I wonder if he loved you. The water dragon saw your vomiting, nausea, drinking, singing and dance-like movements. You thought it made him disgusted, but in fact absolutely not - Neuvillette can't be disgusted through the normal human body, so you absolutely denied everything but friendship in your head. This freed up your heart to flirt with other people. Neuvillette learnt from you, and didn't really understand why you weren't interested in him if you promised each other. Is the love he was trying to know really a different kind of love for a man? And you… and you were friends. You loved him with a different love.

One day you asked him for help. You had to create a situation where you would be alone with Risley, which was quite difficult, because you had never been a criminal, and Risley rarely left the fortress. It was a strange, incomprehensible feeling; you were familiar with the wolf even before you started communicating with Neuvillette , but somehow Neuvillette felt like if he granted your wish, it wouldn't make anyone better.

The water dragon asked why you wanted to meet him so badly. You confessed that you've been communicating by letters for a long time, and it seems that Risley has the same "love" for you. If you see each other, you will sort out your relationship. And Neuvillette . wanted to help. He didn't know how to upset those he held dear, and if it meant you would smile at someone other than him but remain happy, the man saw no reason to object.

Yes, you met Reesley. And Neuvillette had sinned - learnt the details from both sides. They seemed too different, too contradictory. Wolf said he did offer you a serious relationship and you asked for time to think about it. You told Neuvillette that nothing special had happened. Oh, good. The water dragon overcame the embarrassment, right? He asked you directly how you felt about him.

"Friendship," you were hard-pressed by the question, because you were afraid Neuvillette confession would be awkward, unnecessary, and you automatically felt guilty that you'd misunderstood each other when you'd agreed on permanent companionship, "care, respect. I want to be there for you when you're homesick and help you cope with heavy emotions. I know it's not easy for you alone, and I promised you companionship and support.

Then Neuvillette asked another question: how do you feel about Risley?

You already wanted to cut off the dialogue and go cry from hopelessness and resentment. It was all wrong. You couldn't agree to romantic intimacy, but you couldn't break the heart of the one you actually cared about the most, either.

"I'm interested in him," you said softly but firmly in response, "I want to find out how far our relationship with him can go.

"But you don't want to find out with me? - Neuvillette spoke as if he wasn't in pain, and in fact he was. Neuvillette just wanted answers,-I wish it."

How creepy and scary; answering honestly was all you had to do. And yet. maybe love is a choice after all, and you can choose to love Neuvillette ? He's never treated you badly. He was always there for you. Neuvillette remained the purest of beings, revealed his secret, told his story and all the details you wanted to know, trusting that you wouldn't share it with anyone.

The silence remained a needle in Neuvillette soul. He raised his hand when you opened your mouth; it was a kind of call to silence. The water dragon understood without words.

Progress.

And the longer you pondered the question, the further your pity drifted away - in truth, you didn't sympathise with Neuvillette any more than you might have worried about the broken heart of an inexperienced schoolboy confessing his love. It was an old creature, grown up and conscious, breathing different air, drinking different water, feeding on the power of the elements when your body demanded vegetables and tea.

You. fell in love. In an instant. It wasn't close to talking about feelings for Risley; they were, after all, sparked by interest, curiosity, not delayed in developing. And here it was quite different. After maybe a couple of months, Neuvillette called you to show you something underwater. He wanted to share a place he'd discovered not too long ago, and a dragon rarely shared much. You stopped halfway through because you, um. wanted to take a chance. Huge, empty space, just fish all around, and not even the seaweed reached down to the level where you were. And down below, a terrible, black darkness. It was as if it was sinking to the lowest level, flowing into the ordinary water of the Teiwat.

"I've never seen you in your true form," she suddenly uttered, running water into her mouth for the first time in a long time. Neuvillette froze.

"It's true," he didn't realise what you were getting at, though some suspicion crept into his head. And soon you shrugged, as if calling for action.

"Even divers don't swim in here… and if someone did notice, I don't think they'd believe them. People haven't learnt how to take underwater photos yet. I'd like to meet you again. But I'm not interested if such an acquaintance would make you uncomfortable," you chose your words carefully, telling the truth.

Neuvillette smiled. You had seen that smile so rarely that for some reason you smiled too. He didn't have to be asked twice. A strange peacefulness crept down the dragon's back as he asked you to rise above his neck so you wouldn't accidentally get into trouble. Turning into a creature of this magnitude was biting at your lungs; a marvellous bodily dissolution, glowing and feeling the hard impenetrable skin beneath your feet. You managed to grasp the small protrusions of large needles to keep from falling off and being swept aside, while Neuvillette continued to grow a long, agile tail. His primordial body was flexible and slender, with long horns and whiskers pushing back from his flat, oblong skull. When the transformation was complete, you saw a huge creature hovering in the water like a bird caught in an air current.

You pushed off the scales with your feet, swimming swiftly up to the dragon's muzzle and examining the intricacies of the broad muscles. It resembled an axolotl - snow-white and blue, marine, enjoying the freedom of its body. Yes, Neuvillette felt wonderful. The power released at last was boiling in his cold blood. His stomach twisted with hunger. He wanted to soak his body in water, wait for it to be satiated, and you finally froze in the middle of his muzzle. Deep eyes exuded a water-reflecting glow with a faint burgundy tint. Sharp pupils, all yours, all towards you.

"You look happier that way," she whispered, knowing he could hear far beyond your hearing, "I like you better that way.

Neuvillette laughed. It sounded so strange and appealing - air bubbles rose to the surface, white teeth bared from beneath a thin lizard mouth, eyes squinting. You treasured a moment of his freedom. And he moved forward, weak and cautious, but the wave of his movement swept you up, carrying you backward, forcing you to grab at the scales. Neuvillette was playing around. He watched the water ride you before deciding to become your sea horse, making you his rider.

And that's when you fell in love. You fell in love with the way he made sure he didn't hurt you, the way he moved freely and contentedly in a familiar environment, wanting to do so more often. You fell in love because you realised you wanted to make this creature happy, and because you felt happy around him.

Yes, love is a choice.

And you chose to love each other. Then it came to the point of having to teach him about intimate contact, even if it all happened incredibly slowly. At first, innocent kisses only went down to the top of your head, and that already weighed immensely. You treasured every touch that Neuvillette gave you, because he was learning to love like a human. You didn't like it. You kept telling him to behave naturally.

And Neuvillette appreciated it in return. To behave naturally meant that you loved him the best you could, the best you knew how, and that you loved him completely, accepted him.

A water dragon loved a mortal girl. Morax would have laughed at that already.

#headcanon #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette headcanon #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin headcanon #genshin impact #fluff #au