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kookslastbutton · 11 months

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Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) || ch.I

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 4,187

Warnings: 8-year age gap, mentions of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), flirty banter, fighting, jk has a bit of a temper, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, Heaven+

A/N: Okay I have been having such baby fever for last few years no joke. I wanna be mom or aunty but my sister won’t have kids yet! So i write this lame series to cope even though it's lowkey sad? lmao. Enjoy!! 🥰

༓ ch. II >> | series masterlist

You’re not exactly sure when it happened but one minute you’re crouched over, sketching in your journal and the next, a child with big brown eyes comes up beside you to watch over your shoulder. He’s a cute little fella, you note. Can't be more than four years old. His hair is ink-black and on the longer side. He’s got on a pair of black and white checkered pants, navy blue sweatshirt, and a toy snug under one arm. At first glance, you struggle to make out the toy but it looks like an elephant.

“Hi…” His hand reaches for you. It tugs the edge of your dress sleeve before reaching down to latch onto a few fingers. You smile up at the child, warmth immediately beaming through your heart.

“Hi sweetheart,” you say. “What’s your name?” You wait for the boy to answer but he doesn’t. Instead, he shuffles down next to you on the grass and points to your drawing. His delicate eyebrows knit together in an inquisitive manner. “What is this?” he asks.

You look down at your drawing, examining it from various angles. It's unfinished but you're working on a sketch of the pond nearby. You've managed to capture the sun-kissed water but the sky needs more work. Being the weekend, you couldn't give up the rare opportunity to indulge in your favorite hobby. “It’s the pond with all the colorful leaves,” you reply.

Blank face, the child thinks before speaking again. “Who taught you?”

Now that's an interesting question. Drawing had always been in your blood since a child. You fell in love with the ability to let your imagination run wild on paper whether it be on the back of your homework or even cardboard. To you, drawing was freedom and discovery. It allowed you to express emotion, memories, abstract thoughts, and to recreate the real world. You typically preferred sketching with drawing pencils but occasionally dabbled with watercolors. You had a gift for it–a natural gift.

By the time high school rolled around, you tended to hole up in the art room, sketching for as long as you could. Your art teacher suggested you go to school for it come senior year which gave you enough push to bring it up to your parents. Determined, you spoke to your parents about it but it was null–art could only be a hobby, it couldn’t support your future. They suggested you go to school for economics or finance instead. You nearly hurled at the idea but you eventually agreed, knowing they’d never pay for you to go to art school. Drawing, as you found out, had to be on the side.

"I had a teacher once in school," you say. "But I mostly learned myself."

The child tilts his head to the side, a puzzled look on his face. “You?”, he says.

You nod your head in affirmation.

“No way! Even I have art teacher.”

You chuckle lightly and move to stand up from the grass, needing to stretch due to your crouched position. He follows suit, still clinging to your hand. “Where you going, Eomma?”

Eomma...That's a name you don't get called often. You're not used to being seen as the mom type. In fact, when you tied the knot with Jungkook, the two of you agreed that having a family was a grey area. You both liked kids, sure, but being parents? That was a subject neither of you seriously considered. “I’m sorry sweetheart,” you coo. “I’m not your Eomma. But, let’s find her together, okay?”

The child shakes his head, refusing to budge. "Mm no," he says, clinging to your leg. "Wanna stay with you." Your heart skips a beat. Children don't typically take to you like this. It causes something inside of you to want to lunge down and pick up the child in a tight embrace. But you nip that thought in the bud when you catch sight of a woman roughly your age jogging toward you. She looks like the child’s mother.

“Si-woo!” She gives a wave. "Si-woo come here!"

“Eomma!” The child’s cheeks rise into a big grin as he watches his mom approach nearer. He lets go of your leg but his hand remains locked in your own. You end up squeezing Si-woo’s tiny hand but then, like a bitter aftertaste, you remember– he doesn’t belong to you. You loosen your grip and allow him to run back to his mom.

“It was nice meeting you Si-woo!” There’s a hint of sadness in your tone but you do your best to brush it off. You only knew Si-woo for a short while and now he’s back with his real mom. You should be happy but when Si-woo’s mom lifts her son, she gives you a scowl. She doesn’t even come up to say anything to you but turns around and carries her son back to their picnic area. You frown realizing you were merely a stranger who little kids are told not to talk to.

You sigh and glance at your unfinished drawing. Suddenly, you don’t feel like drawing anymore. You pack up your belongings in your bag and head to your car, the event replaying in your mind.

You can’t blame Si-woo’s mom for being a little rigid, you think. You’d share a similar reaction with your own kids if you had any–if you had any. You repeat the phrase unexpectedly. Were you warming up to the idea? Your marriage did recently surpass the two-year mark, perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to consider having…no, you mentally stop yourself. Yes, Si-woo was cute but it likely wouldn't happen. You toss your bag of art supplies in the back seat and drive home.

“Jungkook! You here?” You step into your shared apartment and drop your bag on the kitchen counter. The smell of burnt wax mixed with vanilla bean hits you as soon as you walk into the living room. “Jungkook you better be home or these candles are going in the trash!” You really didn’t mind the candles but your husband had a nasty habit of keeping them lit even when you were both out of the house. He didn’t do it on purpose, of course, it was accidental but it was too much of a fire hazard to ignore.

“Kook!” you holler again, but no reply. These damn candles. You snuff them out one by one before venturing into the bedroom. Thankfully none were lit in there. You reach behind your back and unzip your dress, letting it pile around your feet. It's a beautiful dress but you were dying to get into a pair of sweat shorts and a t-shirt.

“Hey honey,” Jungkook says, emerging from the bathroom with damp hair and a towel tied around his waist. You let out a yelp before making eye contact. You've always been easily startled. “How was the park?”

Mentally, you bite your lip. This man was getting sexier every day, especially with that gold band wrapped around his fourth finger. You toss a t-shirt over your head. “Absolutely wonderful. Been a while since I’ve been able to really focus and draw. I loved every second." Should you mention the child? You pause, briefly contemplating the thought. Why not? "A really cute kid came up to watch me draw too…’til his mother took him away.” You don't notice but you nearly spat the last part.

Jungkook lets out a small snort, amused by your sudden irritation. There were many things he knew you could put up with, a resilient woman you were. But whoever this kid’s mother was must have gotten under your skin in the most unusual way. “It’s great you had a good time but you sound borderline offended about whoever this kid’s mother is.”

“It’s nothing really.” You shrug. “The kid came up to me and grabbed my hand. We had a nice talk but then his mom showed up. She didn’t even say hi to me. She just picked up her son and scowled at me like I took him or something. Believe me, I get it. But I didn’t do anything!”

“Don’t think about it too much __. She was probably just worried about getting her son back. I’m sure she did mean anything.”

“I guess. But do I really look that harmful?” You face your husband, hands perfectly poised on your hips.

Jungkook strides over to you and strokes down your arms until your hands relax to your sides. He gives you a quick peck on the lips. “Yes.”

Surprised, your mouth falls open. How dare he?! You give a pout, one that Jungkook finds especially irresistible. “Then you can keep your hands and lips off me for the rest of the night, Mr. Jeon.” You wiggle out of his grasp.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you for the past four years Ms. y/l/n. But you couldn’t stay away, could you? Just had to marry your hot professor, you naughty girl.” Jungkook grabs you again, pressing himself against your torso. You squeal at the contact. Married for two years and you’re still a blushing mess, get it together __!

“I wasn’t the one who was grabbing my student’s ass after class halfway through the first semester,” you quip, gripping his biceps. “I’m innocent.”

“Oh honey, nonono. You don’t get to play the role of a shy little angel who got eaten by her big bad wolf of a professor day one of university. You were already a master's student when we met. You knew what you were getting into when you started wearing tight little skirts to my class.”

You roll your eyes. “C’mon I had leggings underneath and I wore sweaters. If you’re accusing me of seducing you through my wardrobe then you have a very odd way of getting turned on.”

“Honey, how long have you known me? Sure tits and ass are cool and I won’t say no if you wanna show me.” You give a light shove on his shoulder at that, Jungkook chuckles. “But I have a doctorate in economics. Nothing catches my interest more than a studious individual like yourself studying all the angles of supply and demand. Plus, I liked your sweaters. Made me curious what you were hiding.”

“Oh stop it!” You end up giggling at your husband’s beyond-cheesy explanations. “How am I supposed to know my economics professor was ogling my teddy bear sweater for fuck sake?”

Jungkook throws his head back, feigning frustration. “It wasn’t a teddy bear sweatshirt. It was a bunny and it was very cute!”

“Whatever. Point is, I’m not the one to blame. I was a good student getting her master’s like her parents wanted until she found out her professor was sculpted from the gods themselves. Your shirts were barely fitting you. I swore they were going to bust one of those class periods.” You imagine the horrified look your peers would give. Not you though, you'd probably start drawing him. Shameless, really.

“As I recall that shirt-busting happened many times by your claws. I had to replace a dozen shirts in a month from how many you destroyed.” A pair of manly hands sensually trace down your sides. Jungkook leans forward, lips near your ear. “Seems like you had a lot of pent-up energy.” He nips your ear before peppering small kisses down your neck.

“You have no idea.“ You close your eyes, a moan escaping from you. "Professor–"

Jungkook grunts, suddenly suckling on the sensitive skin. “Mmm you haven’t called me that in a while. Kinda missed it”, he says, backing you up against the dresser. You were about to hop on top when your ass hit the edge but a rude, obnoxious ringing pulled Jungkook off you.

“Hey man!” Your husband answers the phone, a little too joyous in your opinion. You knew exactly who it was on the phone–Park Jimin. You bite your cheek, doing your best to keep down a sour face.

“Yeah let me ask __. Hold on.” Jungkook looks at you. “Honey, Jimin wants us to go out to dinner with the guys. You wanna go or stay in?”

Maybe, you think. You love Jimin but his dinners are usually quite elaborate. He always makes reservations to the fanciest restaurants in Seoul, and he required everyone to be dressed to the hills. It was fun now and then but did you have the energy for that tonight? Eh. What the hell. “Sure. What time?”

Jungkook passes on your inquiry before looking at you again. “6 p.m.” You nod in consent and walk to your closet, rummaging through your clothes for something Jimin-worthy. “Alright man, we’ll see you there. Yeah got it, k bye.” Jungkook hangs up the phone and watches you pull out dress shirts, pants, blazers, literally all your work clothes. “Found anything?” he pipes up.

You pull out a dark green dress, above knee-length, and gorgeously hemmed. “I’m pretty sure I wore this last time but–“

“Next," Jungkook interrupts. "Jimin will notice and you know how he gets when people wear the same outfit twice in a row.” your husband fiddles with through his own dresser drawers, yanking out an oversized t-shirt. You groan knowing all too well how tight Jimin ran this operation. One time Namjoon came in the same maroon dress shirt as before causing Jimin to have an absolute fit. He even made the man go home and change. Dinner was late that night.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You rummage through your closet again hoping to find something tucked in the back. There’s bound to be something. “Damnit, I thought I had more than this,” you grunt, finding nothing.

“Do we need to go on a last-minute shopping trip?” Jungkook throws on a pair of cargo pants.

You groan internally. Shopping isn't your favorite activity. It always took so long, and nothing was to your liking. You prefer online shopping but with only three hours until dinner and apparently nothing in your wardrobe, you suppose it's inescapable.

“Come on, honey.” Jungkook combs through his hair with a few fingers and grabs his wallet from the nightstand. “This is for Jimin."

"Alright, let me put some jeans on.” Jimin, you bougie little punk.

You view yourself in the dressing room mirror, a plum-colored dress adorning your body. This is the tenth dress you've tried on and to be honest, you feel pretty good in it. Nothing feels itchy, too snug, or out of place. The dress was a simple, strapless sheath dress and it fit you like a glove.

"__." Jungkook taps on the door. "You're not gonna like what I have to say but it's inevitable…there's been a change of plans."

"Okay," you reply with strain. "What is it?" You unlock the door to find your husband glancing down at his phone. It's a text from Jimin, you notice.

"Sorry for this but we're not going out for dinner tonight. Seokjin's daughter isn't feeling well so they're going to stay home. Yoongi also hasn't been able to get much time with his kids and wife lately so he's not coming either." Jungkook continues reading Jimin's text aloud. "I don't think we should go out without the whole party so I'm thinking about canceling our reservations."

Damn.

"You look beautiful," he says, catching your half-disappointed expression. "I'm sorry."

"It's no big deal," you sigh. "We'll eat in." From Jungkook's point of view, you were upset about wasting an hour and a half on shopping. He knew you'd much rather be back with your drawing pencils or watching a drama. He felt bad. The real reason, the one you think best to keep to yourself, however, is that hearing Jimin's text reminded you of Si-woo again. Further, it reminded you that nearly everyone in your friend group had at least one kid except you and Jungkook. Normally it didn't affect you though, so why did it today? Had the little kid from earlier really stuck with you that much?

"__? Everything alright?," Jungkook says. "I know we had plans and we've been shopping for a while but if you like the dress you should still get it. Jimin will have his dinner again and there will be other times you'll need it."

It takes you a moment but you reply, forcing a fake smile the best you can. "Oh yeah, yeah I'm good. I dazed off for a second there. I'll–I'll put the dress back actually."

Seeing through your facade, Jungkook lightly grips your arms. "If there's something you're not telling me I'd like to know, please?"

His endearing facial expression both soothes you and creates coils of nervousness in the pit of your stomach. You want to tell him what's up. You also want to pop the question that you've both been sweeping under the rug for the last two years. But how? Maybe you shouldn't. Maybe you're just in a mood today.

"Have–" You start but the rest of the words don't come out.

Jungkook waits for you to finish the sentence. "Have you thought of any ideas for dinner?" You stutter out. "'Cause I was thinking it’d be easier to order takeout tonight."

Eyes narrowing, your husband stares into your eyes. He's searching for any hint that you're bluffing–shifty eyes and such. You think he's caught onto you until his shoulders relax and eyebrows soften. "I was thinking the same thing. But also, I'm buying you this dress even if you don't. It's gorgeous on you and I know you want it. Now take it off and let's go find something to eat."

You manage to chuckle a "thank you" and slip back into the stall to change into your normal clothes. You feel a slight pang of guilt in your gut for not coming clean to him but you weren't sure if you were ready to tell him the truth no more than he'd be ready to hear it.

“Seriously honey.” Jungkook’s voice carries over the stall. “Are you really alright? Do you need anything?” You swallow hard at his persistence.

“I’m perfectly fine,” you reply. “Maybe a little hungry.” One day at a time __, you think.

You end up placing a dinner order at a local favorite nearby. You and Jungkook take it back to the apartment, curl up on the couch, and put a movie on. You nearly fall asleep after the first forty minutes because the plot is so utterly dry and quite frankly, boring. Jungkook seems to be enjoying it though so the movie plays the entire way through.

Still hardly paying attention, your mind drifts off to other affairs. You think about your upcoming work week, what to get for your best friend's birthday in the following few weeks, and the cute dog you saw yesterday, and of course, you loop back to the same lingering topic–your brief afternoon with Si-woo. Part of you wanted to take him home but Jungkook would have a fit, as well as you know...Si-woo's mother. You snort at how interested you've become in entertaining thoughts about children and taking care of them. As you've covered before, you aren't the mom type.

Si-woo and his mother looked very similar though. They shared the same hair color, eyes, and face shape. You wonder what his father looked. Did he have long hair too? Did he share the same lips? Before you can stop yourself from going further you wonder how identical your own child might be to you and Jungkook. Would your child love the arts like you or the social sciences like your husband? You suppose it could be a blend since you technically have a master's in economics yourself. You'd much rather be owning and operating an art museum or being a studio art professor but that's beside the point. Your child would be free to venture down their own path. That is if you have any.

You shift your eyes to Jungkook who's concentrating heavily on the movie. He's a wonderful husband, you sigh, full of love. No doubt he'd make a great father but did he want to? Jungkook never really mentioned it before and neither did you. When you first start dating you had a brief talk about children and building a family but you were still in school then and Jungkook was swamped with his teaching responsibilities. Children weren't something that either of you felt like you could handle at the time. After you'd gotten married there was an opportunity to discuss it again but you were both quite comfortable with it being just the two of you. Today is the first day you've shown any serious aversion to your comfortable lifestyle–you want a baby.

Once the credit scenes appear Jungkook feels your eyes burn through him from your lounged position. "You're making that face again," he says.

"There's no face."

"Yes there is."

"I don't think so."

Patience running thin, the tone in your husband's voice gets firmer. He's not angry but it's clear his temper is rising. You and Jungkook haven't had a spat in a while and you really don't want to start now. "I can see that there's something on your mind. It's the same one you had from the dressing room and I'm pretty sure it isn't about food this time."

"I don't know what you want me to say," you mumble tiredly. You sit up straight. "My face is my face."

"Honey, I know there's something going on that you're not telling me. Is this about that kid's mother from earlier? Because I'm certain it wasn't personal."

"No, it's not about that at all. It's just been a long week and I'm exhausted," you lie, yawning as if on queue. Jungkook grips the couch arm in agitation. He isn't sure what's going on but he isn't letting you go to bed without getting to the bottom of it.

"You're not having second thoughts about our marriage are you?" He throws the idea out there, hoping its obvious inaccuracy will push you to tell him the truth. You grimace at the guess.

"That's ridiculous!" You sneer. "How could you think that?"

"Well maybe because you're not telling me anything else?" Jungkook tosses his hands up. "I mean who knows, it could be anything. Was it the movie? Shopping? Are you horny? What the fuck is it?!" You jump at his sudden outburst.

"No it's none of those–"

"Look," Jungkook cuts shortly. "Will you just tell me so we can deal with it?!" You throw him a nasty look.

"Just deal with it? Like it's some kind of nuisance of an issue that needs treatment?" You jump up from the couch and head to your bedroom in a fury, your husband hot on your trail.

"I don't mean to be pissing you off, sweetheart but I know something's up." He follows you into the bathroom, watching you reach for your toothbrush. "Can you please slow down and talk to me?" He grabs the toothpaste before you can, forcing you to stop in your tracks. You feel your body starting to shake, eyes tearing up. You friggin' hate fighting and you hate being so unsure about telling him the truth–that you want a family. You're scared of his response most. What if he says no?

Realizing your nervous state, Jungkook takes a deep breath and softens his tone. He hates seeing you cry and he hates it even more when he's the one causing it. "I'm sorry honey." He steps towards you but you flinch away. You're not ready to be touched yet.

"I–I want...I want to be a mom. I want a baby." You wait for your husband's reaction and when it comes you instantly start bawling.

"A baby? What do you mean you want a baby?" Jungkook feels everything inside of him panicking. There's a reason he teaches economics to college students and not high schoolers or below. He doesn't do children, he isn't cut out for it. He'll babysit of his hyung's kids from time to time but at the end of the day, they aren't coming back home with him. Jungkook was sure his wife felt the same way but now? Now she's tearing up in front of him, scared to tell him she wants a child–one that will be his.

Jungkook takes you into his arms, his thumb wipes off some of your tears. "Honey, I'm sorry I didn't know. When you came home from the park I didn't realize that little boy meant so much to you." You try blinking back your tears but they keep running down your face. He's being gentle with you and you appreciate that but his choice of words tells you his answer is no. It's quiet, subtle, and cuts like a knife.

You break away from him to splash cold water on your face. The coolness calms your nerves. “He didn’t. Never–never mind what I said, sorry. I’m tired and I’m probably not thinking straight.” You leave the bathroom, leaving Jungkook scrambling for his thoughts.

A/N: Lmk what you think, tysm for stopping by 💞

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#btshoneyhive #bangtanbathhouse #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts au #fic:toolatetodream #kookslastbutton

2K notes · View notes

leclerced · 4 months

Note

Heyyy hope you have a good day, i come bearing new thots

Credit where credit’s due, the idea is an old and deleted roger Taylor fic and not from me.

HOWEVER. Im now obsessed with this scenario with either lando or oscar (ill let you choose <3)

Roommate!AU !!!

Imagine you’re friends and roommates with lando or oscar and he has to study for his upcoming biology exam at uni. The topic? Female reproductive organs🤭

He just genuinely struggles with understanding the anatomy of a vagina and that picture in his damn book is absolutely not recognisable.

And since him and reader are friends and she doesn’t think thoughts all the way through she offers him to look at hers. I mean hes seen her shirtless a million times its nbd.

And staring at her beautiful pussy really does help him - to an extend. Hes so into his studies he doesn’t really process that he asked her „can i touch it??“ and she just goes along with it bc it’s already lowkey awkward and theres no turning back now.

She tries to not make it more awkward by suppressing her moans when his finger brush over her clit all while hes just identifying parts with his thoughts oblivious to what he does to her.

And she cant keep in the moan when he pushes his fingern in and suddenly he realises what hes doing. But he sneakily keeps going until she cums and hes trying his best to keep up the ignorant act bc shes js too hot like that😩

Got damn it i need a full length version of this fic again 😭

-🫀

i want to write a full length version omfg this is incredible!!! pictured oscar immediately. kinda set in like the early 2000s in my head bc i wanted to mention dvd rentals One Time and that's not a thing anymore but that's the world i grew up in LMAO

sorry i like got too into this at first and forgot i made plans to game with my friend and rushed the ending im sorry. added read more bc it's just over 1k <3 i think i like this a lot other than the ending idk . lmk what u think i hope it meets the expectations set by the original

reader thinks oscar's an innocent idiot but he just probably shouldn't be in medical school because while he can find the clit, he certainly doesn't know the name of it.

Her roommate has been staring at the same page for half an hour, they're seated on opposite ends of the couch, leaning against the arms and facing each other. She has a Stephen King novel leaned on her propped up knees and Oscar has an open textbook balanced on one thigh and a notebook open to a blank page on the other. After another frustrated sigh leaves him, she drops her book on the coffee table and leans over to see what he's looking at. She almost laughs when she sees the miniature sketch of a vagina, "You know, the DVD rental place down the street has rated X movies."

Oscar snorts, "I'm trying to work, leave me alone. I'm supposed to learn all the anatomical names of a vagina, but the only drawing I have is in this stupid book."

She leans in further to the diagram and hums, "That's a horrible diagram, no wonder you're getting nothing done. How old is that that textbook?" He shrugs and stretches back over the arm of the couch, "Probably like thirty, the professor wrote it himself and he's ancient."

Her eyes get pulled to his hips as he reaches behind his head and groans, his shirt lifting the slightest to reveal soft skin before he drops his arms back down. She licks her lips as she directs her gaze up to his face, "I could show you mine, if you want." The swift inhale Oscar makes is audible, he keeps his gaze locked on the books in his lap as he says, "Really?" Instead of verbally agreeing, she just scoots back to where she was leaning moments before on the arm of the couch and shimmies her shorts down before she can think twice. She giggles at the look on Oscar's face as she kicks the shorts off her ankles and he takes in the sight of her panties, lacy and red. "Are you sure?"

She shrugs and teases, "Well it's not like they have 3D models. I'm sure, I wouldn't have offered otherwise. Are you sure?" He nods slowly and she tugs her panties down her thighs and smirks at the blush that creeps up his cheeks as she drops them on his lap. She doesn't know where the sudden confidence has come from, but she feels no shame as she opens her legs to him. She drops one foot to the floor and the other lifts to rest on the back of the couch. Oscar holds her eye for a moment before she watches his gaze drift down her body and he starts to lean in before pausing, "Can I get closer?" She nods at his question and answers, "As close as you want." Oscar lurches forwards, knocking the forgotten textbook to the floor as he fumbles to grab his pen and notebook to take notes.

She can't read his chicken scratch handwriting, so whatever he's scrawling about her pussy is undecipherable to her as she watches him analyze her. She's trying not to think about how this could be weird, how it is weird to offer to let your roommate use you as an anatomy dummy. It's not really the first time. He's done other things, like when he needed to practice IVs so she let him give her a banana bag the next time she was hungover. She liked teasing him about it, calling him Doctor Piastri when she let him listen to her heart with his stethoscope. Or when she comes down with a cold and she calls him into her room to diagnose and treat her, and he brings her cold medicine and soup from the deli down the street.

She's pulled out of her thoughts when he clears his throat and she meets his eyes before she hums quizzically. The pink tint that had spattered his cheeks turns into a bright red as he asks, "Can I touch you?"

She almost thinks she didn't hear him correctly, but there's no way he could have said anything else, so she tries to joke, "So you're a hands on learner, then?"

Oscar quickly counters, "Yeah, do you mind?"

It's her turn to lose her breath as she stupidly nods and blushes as she takes in the realization that he's about to touch her pussy. In the name of science, she agrees, "No, go ahead." Then, his hand is on her pussy and his focus is entirely on the space between her legs as he spreads her lips apart and she has to close her eyes and force her mind to other places as he tilts his had interestedly. She wishes she could stop her body from reacting to his touch, but she can't. Not when he pulls back the hood of her clit, she hears him writing something, then there's a soft pressure on her clit and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to not react. She tells herself not to make any sounds so it won't be weird, he's just trying to study, he's not doing anything to her really.

She can feel the wetness build under his fingers as he slips them down to her entrance and back up. She hears Oscar mutter something but she can't make it out over the blood rushing through her head as he presses his fingers back against her clit. "Is this... The labia?" The laugh she lets out is half a moan, "That's the- clit. Labia are the lips." He dips his fingers down and pinches one lightly, "This?"

She's somehow endeared by the curiosity, and sighs, "Yeah. That. Minora. The outer one is majora."

Oscar lets out a little huff, "How do you know the names? You're not even taking anatomy." His fingers find her clit again, this time lightly pinching it, and her thighs tense as he mumbles, "Clit." She hears his pen scratching across his paper and then dips his finger down to her entrance and presses inside. She wonders what he's thinking as he slowly thrusts his finger in and out of her, his other hand still writing on the paper. It's not until he slips a second finger inside of her and curls them as he suddenly presses his thumb to her clit that she breaks her silence, a whimper falling from her lips as the unexpected pleasure hits her. She somehow doesn't realize then that this isn't his first time like she thought when she saw the surprised look on her face. Then she flutters her eyes open and immediately realizes it because he's already looking up at her, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. She gasps, "You- you didn't really need help, did you?"

He shrugs innocently, "I still don't know the names, could you remind me?" She can't tell if he's being serious or not as he quickens his thumb on her clit and she's saved from responding as he pushes up her body and presses his lips to hers hungrily.

#ask #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri #op81 #op81 smut #🫀anon

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crystcrm · 1 year

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i share ur struggle.. i ACHE for gepard or welt content so hopefully i could request for something like that? im js gonna throw a bunch of ideas and you can choose whichever

relationship hcs (what he’d be like, how does he show his love etc)

sleeping together (take this whichever way you want)

cooking together in the kitchen (im a whore for this stuff idk why😭)

bedroom hcs (kinks, fav positions, literally anything i need it so bad)

KISSING IN THE SNOW W GEPARD😞

anon i hope you know this ask gave me like 5000 braincells. like suddenly i am THINKING. it's so insane how one little ask full of random blurbs gave me so much life to write even just the smallest things.

literally welt and gepard are my two faves rn, i'm fr just waiting for jing yuan to come out. jing yuan my beloved <3<3

but anyway, as for this little ask, i think we'll ease into the hsr content with some fluff ( i am all due for it anyway, i have Not been writing and i also need the fluff because my god does life hit hard ) so sit tight >:)

love and cherishing you ♡ ;; various x gn!reader headcanons

content;- sfw , fluff , headcanons list , how some hsr boys show their love for you ♡♡ , overall just really fluffy because i need toothrotting stomach ache inducing head swirling sweet fluff sometimes... , nothing about getting together but just general hcs on what they'd be like in a relationship , reader is nooooot...? the trailblazer but could possibly be interpreted as such if you squint

characters inc:- welt yang , gepard landau ( includes post-belobog arc content, not extremely spoilery but take note that i chose after the jarillo-vi conclusion to open up more opportunities >:3 )

together with welt yang . . .

welt has lived life longer than perhaps anyone on the express, being from another world and used to living as the first ( second generation ) herrscher of reason, a herrscher that sided with humanity. he didn't expect to get sucked into another adventure, one where he'll meet many companions, see unbelievable sights or even... fall in love.

he's an old soul, yet his heart still has a grand passion for what he does. the fire within him burns, and perhaps, you stoke the flames. a motivation unlike any other to show you the wonders of the galaxy— of every world.

his love is not the most openly shown, an old man can be embarrassed sometimes. especially in the face of his family of the astral express. his affections for you are for you two only. his touches, his words, the little things that make sparks fly are all special and meant for your ears and eyes only. be it in the privacy of his room, or late nights when everyone else is fast asleep, he'll always find a way to make his love for you known when nobody else is looking.

time together with you is always time well spent. he enjoys it perhaps just a little more than going on adventures with everyone. you could be doing anything, and he wouldn't mind simply sitting in silence together with you. it's comforting, relaxing. it's moments like these where he gets to unwind with you. it's essentially a recharge— he doesn't even have to hold you ( but if you'd like that, he'd be more than happy to ).

he used to be an artist— an animation storyboard artist. his skills on paper would definitely outmatch the rest of the crew. he already likes to have his experiences captured in little drawings in his notebook. well, you happen to be one big, long lasting experience. one that he can't wait to see what more comes while experiencing it. you swear that you can catch him gazing at you every other day, and you always see his pencil moving across the papers in his book. inside are sketches of you in all your beauty, how he adores you, even complete with little notes about the things you like.

he wishes to show you the world, all there is to be seen across the entire galaxy. he will be there, to guide you, to accompany you. it's not that he doesn't trust the rest of the crew, but really, this is the closest thing to a date you've ever gotten. taking in the sights of new worlds, creating new memories together, and maybe getting tossed in a bit of trouble along the way. sure, it may be tiring or troublesome, but he wouldn't want to face it with anyone else.

those that come across him know him as welt yang, but this is the name he has inherited. he doesn't tell it often, perhaps, but at least you know him. the real him. he's not just welt to you, but also joachim. it is something he entrusted to you, who he is, who he once was, who he shall become— everything about him.

he adores you, and all your entirety. you are like a burning star in the galaxy above, one that burns with him.

together with gepard landau . . .

gepard, captain of the silvermane guards is a busy, busy man. between his duties as captain and his daily life, he does his best to find time for you. his lack of charm is exactly what makes him charming, some may say. he's no nonsense, stubborn, "famously uncompromising" ( as his sister claims ) with an unmatched loyalty. it sounds horrendous, but perhaps that's exactly why you love him.

you tell him he should prioritise his duty first and foremost, he is an important figure in belobog, after all. and he does, he stubbornly commits to it. even if he can see in your eyes that you're hesitantly letting him go again. it's in these rare moments that he gives you a small, warming smile and a gentle embrace— he tells you that he'll do his best, for the preservation of belobog, for its people— and most importantly, you.

bothering him on patrol isn't one of your favourite activites, there are definitely more enriching things out there, but you still do it from time to time. usually, it's when the nights are a little colder and you can't seem to sleep. it's the same old thing, each and every time. he tells you you should get home, but not after a quick walk together with him. you'd chat about the little things, and he'd even shyly try to hold your hand in such a moment. after that, he personally escorts you back to your residence, and never forgetting to leave without a kiss goodnight. it may be a simple kiss on the back of your hand, or you might get up for a quick kiss on the cheek. you don't know what you do to him.

gepard doesn't strike me as a type that knows a lot in this area. he was born and raised as a noble child, and then went straight into becoming a protector of the city he grew up in. he'd feel a little flustered at a few things, the ideas and thoughts that come to him while together with you. he's even more embarrassed as he goes to his sister for advice on how to deal with such emotions. he reads books, fiction of romance that he does best to turn into your reality. it's not perfect— he's still clueless on what's a really good date— but he's always trying harder just for you.

it's not often that he gets free time, but once he does, he's quick to seek you out... after his sister of course. for many good reasons, actually. other than the usual check in with his sister he loves so dearly, she is more helpful than most others despite her teasing. serval is a big source of support in his relationship with you, not to say you two can't handle it yourselves. he's just rather clueless about love as a whole sometimes, and she's there to give him a little nudge in the right direction. thanks to her, gepard brought you flowers once, and he does it every so often.

never underestimate the lengths he'd go for you. he may be constantly out there in the front lines trying to combat the antimatter legion and the fragmentum, and he may be busy with training the guards or some other silvermane business, but he would always keep you in mind. you're part of his motivation, and you've grown to be the biggest part of it. you could tell him it's nothing important, if you ask for something, like a favour or likewise, but because it's you, he'll put it right at the top of his priorities. you are his priority.

dates are difficult, especially when you're captain of the guards. walking around with him attracts more attention than any other thing, but it doesn't stop him from inviting you out. the luxuries of belobog would be easy for him to indulge in, as a landau and as captain, but truly, simply spending time with him is enough. your favourite dates are ones where you freely walk aimlessly in the day, perhaps after a bite to eat. fresh snowfall is light upon the city streets, unlike the eternal freeze. you find it hard to resist temptation, letting yourself be swept off your feet for a sweet kiss in the everlasting winter snow.

gepard landau has an immense lack of charm. he's stubborn, he's uncompromising, and maybe even a little dense or a little blunt. but the brighter side of these qualities always show around you. he'll find a way to see you, and he won't rest until he has. his lack of knowledge in this department has him cutely flustered from time to time, but also has him doing unknowingly romantic things. he loves you, and he wants you to know that.

#crysts.corner #trailblazer.cryst #welt yang #hsr welt #welt x reader #hsr welt x reader #welt yang x reader #gepard #gepard landau #hsr gepard #gepard x reader #hsr gepard x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai: star rail #honkai star rail

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nei-ning · 8 months

Text

Gonna rant a bit. I saw one set of beautiful anthro arts on another website. Sadly they were done in AI. I did left a comment, complimenting how beautiful these arts were but how sad it made me that they were AI arts.

The artist themselves was kind and polite, telling they use AI because they want to learn and be able to make game arts one day (but they too, apparently, with AI so...)

But then there was another user, AI "artist" too who replied to me that there's absolutely NO ARTIST who can draw anthros with detailed fur, goat like arm, lights, colors etc without editing or photoshopping. On the whole planet, absolutely none! This person clearly don't believe in people's skills when it comes on arts. Heck, I followed one artist on DA who drew ALL her arts traditionally and she drew, and still does, SUPER DETAILED FURRY ANTHROS! No photoshop, editing, nothing digital. Just her hands, paper and a set of color pencils.

Also, if people's art skills wouldn't had been amazing back in the days through mankind, we wouldn't have cave paintings, old amazing paintings or sculptures, ALL DONE BY HANDS IN TRADITIONAL WAY. NO AI, NO PHOTOSHOP OR EDITING.

Humans can learn amazing skills if they only want to. AI artists, maybe not all, just wants to take the easiest way / be lazy (and get lots of likes - like that other person who straight forward said it. That he uses AI to create furry arts to get hundreds of likes).

They also mocked my style / arts, saying they are not good enough to be used in AI arts - yet.

Like what the actual fuck?! I am pissed! I don't even want my arts to be used in AI arts by some lazy idiot (or at all). At least I draw EVERYTHING in my arts, from first sketch line to the last shade / light. Surely my skills are not as good as they could be. After all I'm self-taught, not gone in art school like some have. Not to mention I draw for fun, I draw to bring joy to my watchers, I draw therapy arts to myself, I like to keep my style easy and simple. My arts are a hobby, not professional thing or to fish a lot of likes. If my arts can make someone's day a bit better, then I've done my job! I never haven't taken my arts or skills too seriously, trying to improve them to the top.

Is there times when I wish I would put more effort to my arts, learn and study more, becoming better? Absolutely! But do I bother? Not really. Like I said, this is a hobby. I know I would burnout myself if I would start to force and pressure myself to do better, to learn more, to improve my skills. I mean I struggle to draw even now!

I do have some saved tutorials on Pinterest what I would like to try, yes, but still not in a way like if I would have a fire under my ass.

#Text #rant #AI #AI art #I'm honestly so fucking pissed right now #Been feeling pissed overall the last few days #And now this to fuel that anger #I need to calm down and do something #Because I don't want to bake my birthday cake for tomorrow while feeling like smashing someone's skull with a hammer #Sorry for the rant guys but I honestly need to let out some steam #Not to mention you guys are my friends #Only ones who I can talk to #Delete later

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canmom · 3 months

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Comics mini-Comints: Dungeon Meshi

reread dungeon meshi through to the end. still such a great manga. here are immediate thoughts - if I end up having time and energy I hope I can write something that goes deeper!

ironically i was only a few chapters from the end when I stopped keeping up, but I was struggling to remember all the characters and context, so reading it through in one go was definitely an ideal way to achieve maximum impact there.

ryoko kui does a very elegant job of handling a transition from 'silly antics' to 'big dramatic fantasy' while still keeping the central thematic throughline - eating and being eaten, belonging to an ecosystem, the significance of sacrificing others to achieve your own desires. a lot of setups pay off in a way that feels meticulously planned - and of course the crux of the final showdown revolves around characters attempting to eat each other, of course the big payoff is a huge feast that symbolically unites all the conflicting factions. it is maybe a bit too neat and happy for my taste, but it's undeniably tightly executed - it never loses sight of what it's about. especially compared to something like Frieren, it's an incredibly coherent serialisation, up there with e.g. Fullmetal Alchemist.

kui's art style deserves all kinds of praise - it feels effortlessly simple, but it clearly communicates all sorts of different shapes and body types and it's really fun to see her play around with remixing the different visual elements when she switches the races around. in general Laius's autistic monster loving ways clearly reflect kui's own deeply felt appreciation for all the ways people and animals live (accentuated further by all the extra sketches the scanlators tuck in). in a way you could kinda call it like Parts Unknown the fantasy manga.

the stakes of the final conflict are interesting - there is much to be said about the framing of 'desire' and its fulfilment, of this occult idea of 'the infinite'. lots you could put in relation to other manga, and also buddhism. (in particular I really want to develop a comparison to Made In Abyss, there are so many parallels, it just might be too spicy for tumblr lmao).

one thing I really like about it is how much its fantasy dungeon-exploring setting owes to D&D and other TTRPGs, rather than videogames. monster ecology has been a fascination of that game since the early days of Dragon magazine, and Kui sharply zeroes in on some of the intrinsic conflicts baked in to that fantasy milieu, notably the lifespan thing, while smartly avoiding the traps of 'evil races'. there's some really fun nods to the weirder monster manual entries. and in a story with so many characters and factions, it does a genuinely incredible job of furnishing everyone with understandable, reasonable motivations, conflicts drawn from their context just like the monsters are explained by their ecology.

and one thing that I particularly appreciate is like... how much it is able to simultaneously understand and sympathise with a character and also show us how and why they'd rub others the wrong way. it's impossible not to like our main group, they're all such charming dorks and the manga leads you along with all the crazy rpg party shit they do, but at the same time you definitely find yourself thinking 'guy's got a point' in the kabru chapters lmao. I'm projecting hard bc i don't really know a thing about ryōko kui but laius def feels like the sort of depiction of having an autism that you can only do if you've lived it.

but yeah, it's a fuzzy ending where it all turns out well. but what's the deeper thrust of it all? there's a funny moment where marcille is like 'maybe in the end our journey is about learning to accept death' and the grouchy old gnome guy completely laughs this off as naive, because death doesn't mean anything. and indeed their big plan pays off, and falin does indeed come back just fine. but still, through all of this it asks you to bite the bullet that being a living creature means eating to survive, at the cost of other creatures, with the other side being that one day you too will be eaten. in contrast to this honest way of being is the beguiling fantasy of infinity, where all your desires are immediately fulfilled - this is shown as a dangerous path of corruption that produces madness and manipulability. having limits and rubbing up against the wishes of others, or 'doing things you don't want to do' as izutsumi's arc puts it, becomes necessary for having some kind of definition as a subject. the thing that makes the demon concrete as an entity is a desire, or appetite, that can't immediately be fulfilled.

of course we can connect this to the idea of narrative conflict. a standard advice for putting together a plot is to ask what each character wants and why they can't get it. wanting something implies movement. and indeed over the course of this story, we see that while having too many desires fulfilled too readily leads to incoherence and callousness, equally a character who is left catatonic as their desires have been eaten by the demon must be reawakened to activity by finding a new desire.

it's kinda Buddhist innit. neither the opulence of the palace nor asceticism. desires are what tie you to the world. but mixed with ecology: what a creature does to find the energy to live is what defines its lifestyle, its form.

this is probably where I'd start talking about entropy gradients and shit if i wasn't typing this on a phone at 1:30am lmao.

but yeah - it's a powerful move to go from 'D&D monster recipe show sendup' to 'living with the inherently violent nature of being an organism fated to live in a finite sum game' and yet Dungeon Meshi makes it feel natural and convincing, while remaining tremendously charming and funny throughout. ryōko kui is definitely some kind of genius, and I can't wait to see what her next act is gonna be. it's all definitely making me appreciate the act of eating a lot more.

next story on my plate is probably The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere, which sounds like it will present a very gnarly thematic contrast.

#manga #dungeon meshi #comics comints

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netherfeildren · 10 months

Text

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .5

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Possessive behavior; Jealousy; Size difference; Size kink; One sad horny old man; Angst!!!! that will continue just FYI no abusing poor little vic for enjoying the suffering of others :) it’s not my fault :)

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: peep the cameo!!!!!! :)

Word Count: 6.1K

Read on AO3

Vanish. Pass into nothingness: the Keats line that frightened her. Fade as the blue nights fade, go as the brightness goes. Go back into the blue. I myself placed her ashes in the wall. I myself saw the cathedral doors locked at six. I know what it is I am now experiencing. I know what the frailty is, I know what the fear is. The fear is not for what is lost. What is lost is already in the wall. What is lost is already behind the locked doors. The fear is for what is still to be lost. You may see nothing still to be lost. Yet there is no day in her life on which I do not see her.

Joan Didion, Blue Nights

Weeks pass after that night in his truck. He calls, many times, but you never answer. And it makes you feel like the worst sort of liar, but you can’t. You can’t hear the sound of his voice, it’ll ruin you, destroy your resolve, force you to your knees at his feet, which is, if you’re being honest, the only place you really want to be. It is, perhaps, the greatest struggle of your entire life, to hold on by the skin of your teeth to this idea you have of what it is he and his marriage should remain as, and what you and he should be and should not be.

It’s Gerri’s birthday, and Tommy and her sister had decided to throw her a party at her house. Big surgeon money makes for a big fancy house, and Gerri was over the moon, filled with happiness and laughter and that wonderful brand of Gerri specific infectious glee that forces even your miserable, morose self to pull your butt out of bed and get ready to go celebrate her. She knows you’re sad, missing him, even if she doesn’t know it’s him specifically. Although, you suspect she might have an idea of it.

She’d begged you to come during class at the start of the week, planting her stubborn butt on a stool to stare you down while the rest of your students finished up their work and then put away their materials. Please’s and threats of tears and bodily harm and promises of copious amounts of alcohol, and if you’re feeling up to it, I could even hook you up with someone – an accompanying waggle of her eyebrows. What about a surgeon? My sister knows the perfect, sexy doctor for you. You’d profusely, profusely refused that. You could not even consider another man right now, the idea was almost repulsive to you. As she begged and pleaded and whined, another one of your students had come up, eavesdropping on the pathetic display of supplication, “Come on, teach. Don’t be a sour puss, put her outta her misery, and go to the fucking party with her,” she’d laughed. One of your best students – she had the most gorgeous tattoo on the inside of her forearm of two overlapping ferns with an intricately detailed moth at the head. She’d told you once she’d sketched it herself. You’d rolled your eyes at them, sour puss, my ass. But you knew you had to get out of this hole you’d dug yourself into, and so, their teasing had gotten to you in the end – forced you to agree to the party out of sheer preservation for your reputation. Gerri’d taken to calling you the boring barnacle… yeah, and she’d never stop if you didn’t agree – would probably force all your other students into making fun of you for the rest of the semester, as well. Annoying little shit, it was very aggravating that you loved her so much.

The house is stunning – big surgeon money indeed. All shining glass, sleek wood and modern edges. A huge infinity pool in the backyard, flanked by an impressively sized guest house that Gerri said she and Tommy stayed in sometimes when they got too drunk to drive home.

There was, after all, a doctor from Andrea’s work waiting for you at their undesired and annoyingly meddlesome behest. He was nice, handsome, boring. Not tall enough, not broad enough, hair blonde and straight and kind of straw-like – no dark, silver streaked curls and deep, warm eyes. He kind of reminds you of a shiny scarecrow, if you’re being honest and not very kind. Not Joel enough. But he was nice, and seemingly interested and he’d gotten you a drink and stayed by your side all night, attentive and polite.

You feel miserable and made out of plastic. Your smile, fake, forced, terrible. Something has to be done about this. Perhaps, electrotherapy, a lobotomy, an exorcism. Anything to get him out of your head.

The shiny, blonde scarecrow – doctor – is telling you about his shiny, blonde family and their fancy skiing trips now, and oh, do you ski? No? I bet you’d love it – maybe I can take you one day? Never mind that you’d been born without a single athletic bone in your entire body, when, suddenly, you hear your name being barked, rough and angry, from behind you, and then a large, searing hot palm circling your bicep on one side while his other palm slides along the span of the small of your back to grip you at the bend of your waist. Fuck.

“Joel–”

“Hi, sweetheart.” He does not look at you as he says it, but his grip on your waist tightens for one second. He’s staring down the shiny scarecrow, murder in his eyes. Oh, that look is very scary.

“What are you doing here?” He turns the scary look on you at that, and nope, nope, it’s even scarier pointed in your direction.

“Tommy told me you were here.”

“Wh– what? Why would he tell you?” He gives you a pointed look, and you glance at the scarecrow, nervous. “You told Tommy?” you whisper back at Joel.

Poor doctor man looks at a loss, gaze swinging back and forth between the two of you. “I’m so sorry, can you give us a minute?” you say, embarrassed. He takes one look at Joel’s terrifying face and scampers away.

Moron, he thinks, sour gaze following the fucker as he tucks tail and runs. He turns back to you, answering your question, “Didn’t have to, baby. He figured it out on his own. Don’t think we’ve been what one could call discreet if you’re really paying attention.”

You shut your eyes tight, bring up a shaky hand up to rub at the delicate wing of your brow. He desperately wants to smooth out the tiny frown marring the space between your eyes.

“N– no– but,” you stutter.

He takes the drink you’re holding out of your hand, takes a sip of it – something sweet and way too strong for your light-weight little butt. “Mm, he get that for you?”

You scrunch your nose up at him, and he knows he’s meant to take it as a sign of your annoyance, but all he can think is that you’re too adorable for your own good. “Wh– I– you overbearing, ridiculous – give that back!” you frown up at him as he holds it out of your reach. He sets the glass on a table behind you.

“Hmm–” His big hands span the width of your waist, can’t help himself, you’re so small compared to him. It makes his cock so hard. “Let me talk to you, please. Let’s go somewhere quiet.” He doesn’t care that he’s not supposed to be here, that he shouldn’t be bothering you, he’s reached the end of his rope.

“No – go away. It’s– it’s Gerri’s birthday.” You try to wiggle out of his grasp, but he pulls you further into his chest. “I’m supposed to be having fun. She said she’d be mad if I didn’t have fun.” There are already overwhelmed tears in your eyes, and if he wasn’t so fucking desperate to see you, to talk to you after all these weeks of you ignoring him, he’d run away. Far, far away, where he can never make you cry again.

“Just for a little bit, please,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, causing the little wisps of hair there to flutter.

You shiver. “Where– where’s Sarah?” You bring your small hand up to clutch at his beard, cup his jaw, and scratch your nails gently down the side of his cheek, and fuck, he’s ready to burst, just with that, even as your other hand feebly tries to push at his chest. He slides a hand low on your back to press your pelvis into his.

“Baby-sitter.” Hearing you ask after his daughter has that soft spot behind his ribs where you live now, burn and pinch painfully.

“And–”

He cuts you off, doesn’t want to hear you talking about her. “Gone for the weekend – work conference.” Not that he believed that.

You open your eyes again, the tears lining your lashes make them almost glow in your skull. He can’t help himself, he bends to press a soft kiss over your eye, feels the whispering, wet flutter of your long lashes against his mouth. You let out a broken mewl for him – full of all your matched wanting. “F– fine. We’ll– we’ll just talk.”

Just talk, just talk, just talk.

He can feel the pulse of his blood beat through the line of his erection against his thigh. He wraps his hand around yours and starts leading you through the house, spots Tommy at the back of the kitchen, leaning against the counter talking to someone. His brother takes in the two of you together, gives him a subtle nod, inclines his head towards the backyard – the guest house where Joel was headed. Tommy had known, since that day so long ago when Joel had tried to discreetly tag along to the college – hoping to get a glimpse of you, he’d known there was something. Nothing discreet about your half assed excuses, reeked’a desperation, he’d said. His brother wanted him to be happy, to have a good, fulfilling relationship. He’d been telling Joel to get a lawyer for months, had been the first to tell him to not get married. He’d help him now, give the two of you time to sort this out. He knows just how insane Joel had been these past few weeks, like a caged animal, pacing and hissing at not being able to get at you.

He steps out the back door and pulls you towards the guest house. He’d been here once, months ago, helping Gerri’s sister out with a repair she’d needed. The two of you would have privacy there to talk, for you to finally stop avoiding him. He needs to speak to you, touch you, smell you. He was going out of his goddamn mind thinking about you, dreaming about you. His cock, constantly at half mast and leaking, at all hours of the day, just at your memory. Desperate, that’s what he is, he’s desperate for you.

“Who was that guy?”

“Who?” Your voice is anxious, breath hitching. He knows you’re twisting yourself up in knots, and he turns to pull you into his arms now, in the privacy of the dark room, lit only by the light of the moon spilling through the large bay windows.

“The one you were talking to.” He draws his palm slowly up and down the line of your spine, feelings the little bumps and jitters of your trembling form. Skittish little rabbit. He rubs his mouth over the line of your hair, baby soft wisps tickling his nose and mouth. You smell so good, he wants to rub himself all over you like some sort of animal – mark his territory.

“Wh– I– You cannot be serious right now.” You push at him, turn to move away, but he catches you around the bend of your elbow, tugging you back forcefully into his chest. He presses his front along the line of your back, grips your hip to bring your ass into the hard line of his cock.

“Does this feel serious to you?” He’s hard as stone, throbbing beneath his jeans.

“Oh God, Joel–”

“Don’t want you talkin’ to other men, thinking about any other men. I know it sounds insane – can’t help it, I’m sorry.”

“I– I don’t think about anyone else but you,” you whimper.

He wraps his arms around your waist, brings one large hand up to cradle the weight of your breast and squeeze. He can feel the stiff little furl of your nipple through your dress. He feels a little unhinged right now, overwhelmed by the feel and scent of you. “I miss you,” he whispers. “Have you missed me?” He presses a soft kiss to the shell of your ear that has a violent shiver jerking down your vertebrae, you grind your ass harder into him, give him the sweetest little moan. “All I do is think about you.”

“I did, I did– I miss you so much. I wanted to talk to you, I did,” you whimper, “But– but we shouldn’t, Joel,” you say at the same time as your hand comes up and around to twist into the curls at the back of his head. He turns your head with his hand wrapped around your jaw, his entire palm cups around your neck to your cheek, thumb pressing harshly into the corner of your mouth to angle you exactly how he wants you, and then he’s tasting behind your teeth, the wet lick of his tongue into yours sends a bolt of lust straight through him, almost bringing him to his knees. He moans, deep and rumbling into your panting mouth, and your answering keen has the dribble of his precum sliding down his thigh. He needs to be closer, he needs to be inside. Fuck, he’s in danger of coming just from this, just from the sweet taste of you, your little moans, all for him.

“Did you like that boy? Think he was nice, hmm?”

“Wha– No– no, Joel. I don’t even know him.” Brow scrunching into the most adorable little frown he’s ever seen. You blink your lashes at him, eyes glassy and slightly dazed.

He snakes his other hand down the front of your dress and under the lace of your panties, cupping the entirety of your mound in his palm. Fuck, you’re soaked and he’s touching you, finally, finally, he’s touching you here.

“Is all this wet for him or for me?” he says softly, dipping a single finger into your seam, a ghost of a touch over the bud of your clit. Fuck, you’re soft. Soft and swollen and soaking wet. He never wants to see you near another man again, it’s unreasonable, insane, he knows this. But the dilemma of having seen you, tasted you, felt you, but only by half measures, not really having you, well… it sets the stage for insanity. This he cannot help.

“For you, for you– please, Joel. Just–”

“She’s drooling for me, baby.”

“Don’t be mean,” you cry.

“Will you let me make you feel good, sweet girl? Please, I just want to make you feel good.” He presses wet kisses over your cheek, down your neck to lick into the hollow of your collarbone. Your hips hitch in little grinds trying to gain more purchase against his palm, and he circles your clit slowly. You’re fucking dripping, and he moves down to press over your entrance, gives you the slightest hint of everything else he’d like to give you.

“Oh, please–” He slides two of his fingers into the last knuckle then, to the hilt. You’re so wet, there’s no resistance at all. Your cunt swallows his fingers whole, and the both of you let out ragged moans in tandem. You’re fucking tight, and he needs to feel you around his cock, he has to. He’ll die if he doesn’t. He’ll die.

“We– we were supposed t– to talk,” you stutter, little cunt grinding down as hard as you can on his thrusting fingers. The wet squelch is deafening and obscene in the quiet of the guest house, and he can almost feel the steam of your lust and embarrassment at the sound rolling off of your skin like heat waves.

“Yeah, yeah, baby. We’ll talk in a second.” He licks a long wet swipe along the edge of your jaw, bites down harshly, and he can feel the tight clench of your cunt at the small hurt. He pulls his fingers from you, and you let out a protesting mewl, but then he’s spinning you in his arms and kissing you. Something savage and uncontrolled rising up inside of him. He half carries, half drags you down the hall to the bedroom he knows is at the back of the house, pulls the neckline of your dress down to get at your tits, sucking and nipping as much of the soft flesh he can get at. All the previous moments of restraint, of not touching, of just watching, have turned him into this uncontrolled beast. He can feel your little feel dangling off the ground, over his boots. He almost stumbles as you lose one of your sandals, stepping over your shoe, and gripping the back of your thigh to hoist you up higher, grinding you against his length.

He sets you down on the bed, pushing you back to lay across it as he tugs the soft cups of your bra down to get at your bare tits, sucking one peaked nipple into his mouth and pulling hard on the tip. So fucking beautiful. He swirls his tongue around your softness, kisses the underside of it, nips at the full, round side, switches to give the other one the same attention. You’re whining and crying out for him, almost sobbing. So sensitive, so sensitive – little fingers twisted in his hair to pull him closer, but he’s moving down, pulling away from your searching mouth and lifting the hem of your dress. He bends to bury his face in the soft apex of your thighs and breathes deep – satisfaction, hunger, rumbling through his chest. You smell so fucking good. He sticks his tongue out to lick at your slit over the lace of your soft, pink panties, sweet, little bow adorning the front of them.

“Hush, lemme kiss your pussy for a little bit,” he soothes, “Don’t cry,” and you’re spreading your legs immediately at that. Good girl.

He hooks his fingers under the soaking wet center plaque of your panties to pull it aside and drags the flat of his tongue right through your seam. Fuck, fuck. He shuts your legs to rip the fabric down your legs and then rips them open again to get at your cunt. Your back arches, curved tight like a bow string, and you spread your legs wider for him, tug on his hair to urge him closer. He settles between the space you’ve made for him – thinks that he just might like to live here for the rest of his life. He sucks your clit into his mouth and starts to press a single finger inside, giving you something to bear down on.

“God, Joel–” your gasps are wet, on the verge of overwhelmed tears, or already there, perhaps, “Feels so– so good.”

“Taste so fucking good–” He starts to fuck you with his finger, adding another, giving you more to stretch around. You’re so wet, leaking down to pool in his palm, and he focuses on your sensitive little nub, licking and sucking and kissing it, all while he watches the heave and tremble of your breasts, back arched so that you can rock into his ministrations.

“Oh, I’m– I’m gonna come.” Yes, already, “I’m gonna–” He can feel the ripple and throb of your inner muscles working around his thrusting fingers, he hooks them against the deep, spongy spot at the front of your walls and sucks on your clit. Everything goes tight and liquid inside of you. The rapid flutter of your muscles trying to suck his fingers deeper, as you gush into his mouth, has all the blood rushing from his head to his dick so quickly he feels slightly faint. He licks you through it, gentling the thrust of his fingers but not stopping. Your restless legs shift around him, too much, and then he’s shifting back up to you, a bite to your nipple, a kiss pressed to the underside of your jaw, and he’s pulling you down the bed so your ass is right at the edge and tugging at his zipper, pulling his boxers down to free his aching cock and heavy balls. Fist clenched tight around himself, he jacks it once, twice and then presses the angry, red head to your clit, slides the underside of it through your cleft to feel the heat and wetness. Shit, your skin is scorching hot, soaked, and he can see the slight clench of your hole, begging to be filled.

“Joel, please I– I want–”

“Fuck – will you let me– will you let me put it in? Just a little bit?” He’s thrusting against the slick red of you, palm pressed against the shaft to create friction on either side. On every pull back his head catches the smallest bit at your entrance, and fuck, fuck, it would be so easy, so good, “Just– just for a second, baby, please? Just the tip?”

“I – I don’t– I–” The head catches more fully, the wide tip of it giving you just the first slight stretch of it. “Oh, please–” Please, please, please.

He feeds you the first inch – eyes glued to the way your little hole stretches obscenely around his fat girth, “Shit,” he snarls. He fucks you just like that, with just the tip and you try and arch even more, impossible, you’re already pulled tight as an arc, trying to take him deeper, and then your knee is hitching against his hip and pressing him in closer. He slides all the way inside, to the very end of you, in one smooth, devastating go. He feels his tip bump against the mouth of your womb, and your shared moan is pained and ragged. Your fluttering lids springing all the way open, eyes wide, almost shocked. The look shared between the two of you – incredulous, as if neither of you knew – had ever occurred to you – that something in this world could ever feel this good.

He buries his face in your neck, shuts his eyes tight. Fuck, he’s gonna come, he’s gonna come. Your gasping moans, the lush press of your breasts to his chest, the fluttering of your cunt around him – nothing in all his life has ever felt like this. There’s a pain, deep in his chest, in a place he didn’t even know existed. This is like nothing else that has ever existed in this world. He’ll never be able to let you go after this, never, never.

He wraps his hand around your throat, tries to settle you. “Don’t– don’t move, don’t make a sound–”

“I can’t– I can’t– You’re so deep.” Your legs kick restlessly around him.

“Baby, shut up, please,” he begs, he cannot come yet, he cannot. This is the first time in over three years he’s been inside of a woman, the first time he’s been inside of you. He cannot ruin it with a happy trigger finger. You’re clawing at his back, gasping and crying for him to move, to fuck you, please, please, please, fuck me. He slides a hand under your butt and lifts you slightly off the bed to bring you closer to him, grinds his cock deep, deep, right at your cervix so that you’re crying for real now.

“Too much, too much,” you clutch tightly at his bicep, going back and forth between trying to push him away and pull him closer. He can feel the wet press of your tears sliding along his cheek, over his mouth, and he licks his lips to taste them, has his eyes rolling to the back of his head at their saltiness. He hitches you more firmly in his grasp and starts to fuck you. His thrusts, deep and devastating, punching all air, voice, thought out of you, heavy balls slapping wetly against your ass.

“You can take it, you can take it. You can take anything I give you. You’re my pretty, perfect girl,” he grits, pulls himself up so he can stare at the place where you’re taking him, puffy, red cunt stretched obscenely around his slick base.

“You feel so good– I can’t, I can’t– What are we going to do? What are we going to do? It feels so good.” You’re crying, incoherent, fucked out look in your eyes as you claw at his shirt, little nails scraping over his belly and chest. He grips you under one knee to pull your leg up, hooking your ankle over his shoulder to deepen the angle. You come again, instantly, just at the change, the deepening of the angle, the head of his cock battering savagely against that deep, soft spot inside you.

“Fuck, yeah. Let me feel that cunt get wet, little girl.” Your mewls are high pitched, supplicant, and you gush around him. He feels it soak his pelvis, drip down his balls.

No one’s ever been this deep, nothing’s ever felt like this, you say, over and over again.

He plants one knee on the bed and hunches over you, ankle still dangling limply over his shoulder and pounds into you. The feel of your cunt rippling around him, sucking him deeper is too much. He wishes he could last longer, feel you come around him again. What if you never let him do this again? What if you never want him again after this? What if it’s just a one time thing? He’ll never get over this, he’ll never be able to move on from this. He can’t hold back, he starts to fill you, hot thick spurts coating your insides, and you moan again at the searing heat of him, right at the mouth of your womb, grinds deep, deeper, as deep as he can, the contractions of your inner muscles pulling him in. He wishes he could crawl beneath your skin, live inside of you, make a home for himself behind the safe cage of your ribs, and he thinks that you’re right, nothing has ever felt like this, nothing will ever feel like this again.

He’s ruined now. You’ve ruined him

He collapses on top of you, wants to crush you with his heavy weight, meld your chests together so that you’ll have to be with him forever after this. He presses wet, breathless kisses to the vulnerable underside of your jaw, behind your ear where your scent is the most concentrated, breathes you in deeply. You wrap your arms and legs around him, and he can feel the clench of your inner muscles around his softening cock. He hasn’t done this in a long time, he wonders what his refractory period is now, if he’ll be able to go again soon, if you’ll let him.

“I wanted that so badly,” you whisper, nuzzle your nose into his hair.

“Me too, sweetheart.”

“I’m scared.”

“You have nothing to be scared of. I would never hurt you,” he promises because it’s the truth. He’d never do anything to purposely hurt you.

“I’m scared of what I feel for you,” you say quietly, “I– I don’t–”

He slides his hand under you to press you closer. “I know, sweet girl. Me too.” He angles your head to give himself access to your mouth, starts his kiss out soft and gentle, slotting your full upper lip between both of his to pepper soft little pecks and sucks to it, then tilts his head to get a deeper angle and lick into you.

You’re completely relaxed beneath him. Soft and warm and wet, entirely pliant. So sweet. It’s one of the things he loves most about you, how sweet you are. Sweet and kind and earnest – tenderhearted. You’re right, in a way, this is something to be afraid of. The things he feels for you – the depth of it, it’s not something he was expecting, not prepared for, but he’s certain there isn’t a way of stopping it now. This is what it is, will go where it was always going to go, from the first moment he saw you, touched you, tasted you.

“What are we going to do?”

“I want to tell her.” It’s the only truth, the only road he wants to go down. He wants to be with you, he wants this out in the open. “You aren’t a secret to be kept or hidden. You deserve to be cherished out in the open.”

Your tears spill harder at that, “Joel–”

“Baby,” he lifts up slightly to look at you, “This is it.”

You turn to look away and he feels dread coil in his gut. If you pull away from him now he’ll lose his mind. He isn’t prepared for this, he isn’t the type of man who’s ever had to deal with this type of feeling. “I – I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I– I don’t want–”

“You don’t want what?” he brushes a loose strand of hair away from your face, runs the tip of his finger along the arch of your brow, down the slope of your nose. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you,” he says, because it’s the truth. In this moment, he thinks he’d do anything at all you’d ask of him. Open his very veins for you. You have him speared by the heart, eating out of the palm of your small hand.

“I don’t want to be the reason your marriage ends,” your brow crumples, “I told you. I– I can’t be. I couldn’t live with that.”

“My marriage never really began to start with. I told you that.” He moves to pull out, both of you groaning softly at the sensitive slide of his cock slipping out of you, the slick gush that follows. He sits back on his heels, grips both of your knees to keep you spread and enjoy the sight of the viscous drip of his spend out of your messy hole. He wants to bend to eat his own come out of you. You’ve turned him into some sort of beast, subjugated to the scent and sound and feel of your body. But instead he turns to sit at the edge of the bed, tucks himself back into his jeans. He leans forward, elbows resting against his spread knees, and drags his palm over his face, rubs the scruff of his beard. He feels you turn to curve around him, your hand snaking up the back of his shirt to press your palm against his hot skin, your knees curling into his lap around his waist. “It was never – it was never– I don’t even know. Never a real marriage, I suppose. Or never something either of us wanted for the right reasons. I – I felt like it was the right thing to do, at the time, for Sarah. I told you this. But– but it was never how it should’ve been. I worry now, sometimes, if we haven’t just done more damage to her, built a foundation that’s so rotten, so broken, that she’ll be able to feel it for the rest of her life.”

“Joel,” you whisper, dragging your fingers softly up and down his back.

“She was born into a broken home – how can I ever– how can I ever make that up to her?” He turns back to look at you then, “A home where her parents never loved each other – barely even tolerated each other. What is that gonna do to her? What will that teach her about love and relationships?” He grips you around the bend of your knee, anchors himself with the feel of your soft skin beneath his rough palm.

“I think that, from– from experience, that it will be enough for her to know that she has you, that you love her, that you’ll always be there for her. You’re a good father, Joel. A– a wonderful father. She’s so, so lucky to have you.” And the look in your eyes as you say this to him is so earnest, so sincere and kind that he knows, in that very instant, that he’s falling in love with you, that he is already in love with you. He folds over to press his face into your belly, hug you tight to himself. “Your love for her will teach her what love is supposed to be. Honest, forgiving, patient. She doesn’t need any other example than that. That’s enough for a little girl, trust me.” You drag your nails gently along his scalp.

He presses a kiss to your belly, another to your still bared breast. He rests his cheek on your chest to look up at you. “Thank you. Thank you for that.” What he really wants to say is, thank you for existing, thank you for finding me, thank you for being magic, thank you for letting me touch you. Please, let me keep even one small piece of you, I’ll take such good care of it for the rest of my life, I promise.

“But you– you can’t tell your wife about this, can’t– can’t leave her for me. That isn’t– that isn’t ever what I wanted, or– or set out to do. I told you why, I explained this to you.” He watches a bright flush flood your cheeks, brow folding into a frown as you stutter out the words. “I don’t want you to do that.”

“What’s left of this marriage is going to end either way. It’s only a matter of time.”

“But not for me. Not because of me, or for you to run straight to me. I can’t– I couldn’t live knowing I’d done that.”

“You haven’t done anything. This was done a long time ago, the foundation was damaged from the start.”

“N– no, still. I can’t.” You shift away from him, sit up to right your clothes. There is a part of you that hums the sounds of uncertainty, he can hear it in your voice, but it is so quiet in the face of everything else. The echo of your screeching guilt and fear so loud, it overwhelms everything else.

“So, then what? This was just a one time thing? You want nothing more from this? From me?” He spits, hurt. He knows he should be gentle, not get angry, but the thought of you taking yourself away from him now makes panic climb like fire up his chest and throat.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly, face still turned away from him. “I– I can’t tell you that right now. But I do know that I don’t want you to tell your wife, or to leave her for me.”

“So you think I should stay with her? Even though we’re both miserable. Even though all I want is to be with you. That’s what you want me to do?”

You let out a hoarse, anguished little sound at that, but then: “That’s not for me to say.” Your voice sounds broken, jagged, lacerating. “That isn’t my business,” you say so quietly, almost like you’re afraid to utter the words out loud, know what a lie they are. But he hears it. Loud and clear, like a slap to the face.

“Not your business?”

“I should get back.” You stand to right your dress, he watches your shaking knees knock together, and he reaches out to catch you if you need him, but you steady yourself on your own. When you finally turn back to look at him, there are tears streaming down your face. In some sick, twisted way, the sight of them is a comfort. They tell him that this isn’t what you really want, that your words hurt you too. In a way, they help him understand you better, as well. You’re trying to do what you think is the right thing, as wrong as it is for all of you involved. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, wringing your hands together. He only nods. You go to clean yourself up in the restroom, shutting the door quietly behind you.

When you step back out into the bedroom, he’s already gone, but there’s a glass of water left waiting for you on the bedside table.

Chapter .6

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

#someone's fic #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller x female oc #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic

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azures-bazar · 1 year

Text

Accommodating

Re-uploading this one shot because I wanted to add some changes. I'm experiencing a massive writers block tho, my inspiration is gone (my new job is taking most of my mental energy away but I love it lmao)

Here is some SOFT!Arthur one-shot, again, because boy oh boy it makes me want to write a full story about him going through our current era lol

Don't mind his absolute child-like fascination for modernity, I mean... it's cool to see our tough cowboy happy, isn't it ?

Arthur Morgan x GenderNeutralReader

Word count : 2.9k

Short summary : You make Arthur try some new technologies, and it’s quite funny to watch his large blue eyes gaze at them !

A/Note : I bought myself a galaxy projector not so long ago and wondered how Arthur would react lol. Don’t mind it !

Tags : cute, Arthur discovers modern things, mentions of Avatar, movie-watching, snacks, cute nicknames, cuddles, soft boah is in the modern world, men can also cry

A cowboy in the modern world… what a weird story to tell ! Arthur had been in your life for a few months already, slowly accommodating to your era. Sometimes, it was fun, sometimes it was almost scary, and, occasionally, it could be sad. You knew Arthur was an outlaw, a thirty-six, probably thirty-seven year-old man who had been abandoned on the top of a mountain, but he never really brought the subject to the table. In fact, on a few occasions, he would mourn the rest of his gang, he would mourn his friends he would never see again. You had done your best to cheer him up during his rather sad moments, but nothing could really fill that void.

Arthur missed these folks, a few names were frequently mentioned : Hosea, John, Tilly, Charles, Sean and Lenny. Six people he would describe at times, probably the six people he missed the most from his former life. A father-figure, his siblings, his closest friends… he often wondered what happened to them, to these people becoming distant memories he could only mourn. As of 2023, even little Jack was gone. You wished you could do something, probably beg for Francis Sinclair to come back and drag all these people he mentioned to your time… but Francis was long gone, not even bothering about stepping by your place anymore.

You knew Arthur loved drawing stuff, so you bought him a set of sketchbooks for him to practice. He would hole himself in your now-shared room, sitting on the edge of your window or on your bed, spending about one or two hours sketching figures, animals or even sceneries which appeared to be from a very distant era, mixed with modern buildings and figures he came across while wandering in the streets with you. You often left him alone for him to enjoy his solitude, listening to some blues while sketching his discoveries before he would head to you and proudly show you some of his works. One of your walls had a full set of Arthur’s drawings framed and displayed to the eyes of any guest coming in. After all… it was art ! And nothing could make Arthur more happy than receiving compliments about his sketches he often disliked.

Arthur still had some hard time getting used to a smartphone you had bought him as you thought it would be a good thing to keep in touch whenever you would be away from him. He nearly broke his phone’s screen twice, unable to understand why it would not switch on, struggling to send you correctly written texts. His large fingers did not help much, he would get easily frustrated by not selecting the right letter for his text. You absolutely adored each one of them, finding them incredibly cute by knowing how much Arthur wanted to do things like you. Sending a text usually took you a few seconds, whereas Arthur would roughly spend one minute writing a five-word sentence filled with typing mistakes, some of them being due to his autocorrector.

"Im misqing yoi, Y/N !" was an almost daily message he would send you

At some point, you saw an add of a galaxy projector while scrolling on some social media, right after telling Arthur he would probably get a lot of followers if he decided, by miracle, probably, to create an account for himself. He was handsome, had some sweet-looking traits and could easily model for some alternative brands. He often said he would never do such thing, finding his face too ugly to be shown to anyone. How wrong he was, he was probably the most gorgeous-looking man you had ever met ! But, somehow, you did not want to encourage him to post pictures of himself. Social medias were a rather dangerous place for healing minds, and Arthur still needed time. Besides, he would probably not even be able to post anything due to his lack of ease using his digital keyboard !

You bought that lamp later that night, it got delivered quite fast. You carefully unpacked your new tool and quickly headed to your bedroom, followed by Arthur who had stopped reading a book about extinct species as he saw you wander around your place with this curious thing you held. You calmly placed the lamp on your bed, reading the instruction manual while Arthur touched it several times, not understand what the hell this little thing was and what was its purpose.

"What’s that ?" Arthur asked

"It’s a galaxy projector." you answered.

"Why d’you need that ? Can’t you just look at ‘em stars from your window ?"

"Light pollution prevents it. These are often used to create a cute ambiance at home or to distract kids. Wanna give it a try ?"

"Sure."

Arthur sat on the bed as you switched all lights off, plugging your galaxy projector on, making a large blue and purple light come out of it, filled with laser dots representing stars. The background was moving a little, creating a wave effect which froze Arthur on place. He kept his head up, looking at your now star-covered ceiling. His surprised and mesmerised face was absolutely priceless ! His eyes were shining, his mouth remained half-open as he could not help but stare at these fake stars covering your ceiling. All his troubles were forgotten, making him return to a child-like state. It was such a beautiful thing to see !

"And it can also distract grown-ups." you smiled

Your cowboy-roommate did not even react. His attention was completely focused on the ocean of fake stars he had above his head ! Of course, Arthur knew what a projector was. It would have been awesome to see his reaction if he had never seen such thing before, he would probably have been trying to catch these laser stars like a cat and look confused. But, at the moment, his reaction was pretty cute.

You left Arthur alone in the room to buy a ready-made lunch at the local market. He had a phone and would call you whenever he would need your help, if he would get lucky enough to make his fingers touch the right icon on his screen. It only took you a few minutes to buy some finger food for the two of you to eat while watching a movie, you came back to find Arthur exactly where you had left him thirty minutes earlier, in the same position, with this same amazed facial expression blooming on his face. He was hypnotised by these lights enough to feel suddenly so lost as you opened the curtains of your bedroom.

"Wh… what’s going on ?" he said, placing his large hand over his eyes. "Damn sunlight…"

"I brought us some food. You wanna watch a movie ?"

"Yeah, why not ! Just… just let have my eyes back first, hun."

Arthur rubbed his eyes and shook his head while you smiled. You absolutely loved listening to him giving you cute nicknames, such as hun, sweetheart, lovebug… even calling you boo, sometimes, after he heard about that nickname while watching TV. It took him a few more seconds to leave your bedroom, keeping his eyes partly closed until reaching your living room, helping you placing all the food on the table, still looking surprised you did not have any forks or knives to eat these carrots, chips, mozzarella sticks and cucumbers. He glanced at the chips and took one between his fingers. Since his arrival in your era, he had never seen or had the opportunity to taste chips !

"What’s that thing ?" he asked. "Is that really food ?"

"Oh, that’s a potato chip."

"Really ? Just like fried potatoes ?"

"Yeah, just like fried potatoes, but smaller and thinner. We can eat them for snacks or very random occasions. Try it !"

Arthur nodded, taking a bite of the chip before smiling and taking more of them into his large hand. You could not help but chuckle at his sudden addiction to salty treats, wiping away a few crumbs stuck in his three-day beard with the tip of your fingers. He turned shades darker and smiled, gently taking your hand and rubbing it with his thumb as you launched the movie. Avatar, by James Cameron. Back in a day, that movie had been vastly acclaimed for its large technological progress, and was still pleasant to be watched to this day. You would take Arthur to watch the second Avatar movie someday soon in case he liked the first one.

"Are ‘em blue folks real ?" Arthur asked while pointing a Na’vi on screen

"No, they’re modelled with computers." you smiled, trying to explain Arthur about motion capture in the most easiest way. "Our technologies allow us to record actors and then modify their bodies thanks to computers to morph them into these blue folks, like you call them."

"Is there a planet called Pandora too ?"

"I don’t know. Probably ? The universe in infinite, and we didn’t explore much yet."

The gaze Arthur gave you was adorable. You could see his eyes shine with admiration, it was such a privilege to be able to witness an era which was more than one hundred years ahead of his time, despite its good and bad moments. You had tried your best to keep Arthur away from newspapers in order to help him remain in his rather innocent state of discovery, knowing that a simple glance at the news on TV would probably make him terribly sad and somewhat nostalgic of his own time.

It was quite unexpected, but Arthur cried during the movie. He cried because of its overall beauty, the story appeared amazing to his eyes, the soft melodies and choirs chanting in background soundtracks moved him a lot. He loved the bioluminescent effect of some scenes, the overall atmosphere of the movie, not taking his eyes away from your TV while wrapping his arm around your shoulders, gently kissing your temple at times. He adored that, he adored this moment. Having you close to him while being fully taken into this movie made him forget about all his past troubles.

"D’you also have ‘em guns ?" he softly asked

"Maybe… why ? You want one in case you’d come across blue people ?"

"Mmmm… yeah. Jus’ in case. I miss my good ol' revolver, sometimes."

You rested your head on his shoulder, somewhat amused by his sweet attitude. You would listen to his gasps, his soft squeals, his almost inaudible wows… you could not deny how adorable Arthur was. You could even hear him sniff, his chest trembling a little whenever a scene would be emotional enough to bring him to tears. Who would have thought Arthur could be so sensitive ? Those who knew him much more than you did. Hosea and Charles, for instance, and most probably John at some point, even Dutch. Just by looking at his drawings, you could have guessed he had a soft heart and high intelligence hidden underneath his rather menacing appearance.

The movie lasted for so long… you had time to check your phone about a dozen times while resting against Arthur whose eyes were glued to the screen. You did not even want to bother him, he was absolutely hypnotised by the movie and did not want to be bothered. You smiled at him as the credits rolled, noticing tears streaming on his cheeks as you teasingly poked them.

"Getting a little sensitive, huh ?" you smiled

"That was a beautiful show !" Arthur answered. "I loved every second of it ! Can we watch it again ?"

"Someday, we will. But... let's just take a break, okay ?"

Night came pretty fast, Arthur made you a lavender infusion, you found enough energy to work a little while Arthur sat on the couch and started sketching. Very random figures, some fantasy-like sceneries… and you. You could easily tell he was drawing you by looking towards your direction a few times, then proceeding to sketch something, and looking back again. Another artwork to frame, that was for sure !

"What are you drawing, cowboy ?" you smiled

"Well… I’m trying to sketch you, but I can’t get it right… you’re too gorgeous and my hand shakes too much."

"That’s… that’s really sweet !"

"I mean it."

What Arthur told you made your heart stop beating, you turned shades darker and hid your face behind your hands. Your smile widened enough to cause your roommate to move closer to you, carefully closing your laptop with a large smirk blooming on his face. He made you stand up, slowly uncovering your beautiful face before dropping a sweet kiss on your forehead.

"You’re making me melt, you know that ?" you smiled

"Let’s get you to bed so you’ll stop workin’ on your… weird machine here."

"It’s a computer, Arthur."

"Well, computer or not, you’re going to bed with me ‘cause it’s kinda late."

You shrugged, you didn’t notice how fast time had passed since you decided to get back to work ! Remote-working had its ups and downs, and Arthur had complained a few times about you staying up too late instead of going to bed and hide into his embrace. He could hardly sleep without having you next to him, and there were no ways to escape him that night. How could you resist these puppy eyes and insisting behaviour ? Your arms spread wide for him to lift you up while you dragged your legs around his hips. Arthur loved carrying you around your place, he could easily remain in shape by doing this almost on a daily basis ! You did not mind it. In fact, you loved having him carry you from a room to another. Bridal and koala style, as you called it, were your favourite.

Arthur calmly put you on the bed and proceeded switching all lights off while you changed into some more comfortable wear, slipping under your blanket as Arthur moved next to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He took advantage of you turning yourself towards him to passionately kiss you before making you rest your head on his shoulder. You remained like this for a few seconds, in your pitch-black bedroom, up until Arthur cleared his throat.

"Erm… Y/N ?" he sheepishly asked

"Yeah ? What’s wrong ?"

"Would you mind… switching the galaxy lamp on for a bit ? I… I liked it and…-"

"Sure, sweetheart."

You gasped at your own sudden reaction. "Sweetheart ? Really ?" you scolded yourself, covering your forehead with your palm. You never dared giving Arthur nicknames, not finding anyone of them suitable enough for your time-traveling cowboy, his sole name sounded just fine, you would sometimes call him by his surname. Sweetheart came out of nowhere, and was well deserved !

"S-sorry." you stuttered

"Nah, it’s fine." Morgan responded. "I like ‘em sweet nicknames. "

Arthur smiled, deeply flattered by the nickname you just gave him. His heart pounded faster than expected as you calmly reached out to get the lamp and switched it on. A beautiful fake galaxy suddenly covered your ceiling, filled with laser stars which slowly moved along with the rest of the digital ocean of blue and purple clouds behind them. You analysed Arthur’s reaction and smiled at his sight.

"Why do you like this lamp so much ?" you smiled

"Oh… it just reminds of home." Arthur answered as he moved closer to you, allowing you to place your head back on his chest

"You never slept with a roof over your head before you came here ?"

"I did, at some point… but I got used to fall asleep while gazing at the stars from a corner of my tent, or sometimes from my bedroll when I was away. Gazing at ‘em moving above me was always calming."

"If you want, we could go camping this summer. Would you like that ?"

You heard Arthur moan a little, feeling his heart pound faster. Your head rose a little, allowing you to get a better view of Arthur’s beautiful face. Your hand caressed his chest, drawing circles on them while you kept gazing at him. His eyes kept staring at the ceiling until he felt your gaze, slowly turning his head to you.

"That’d be awesome." he smiled

There were many things left to discover, many things you wanted to show Arthur. The world was full of treasures, modern or ancient, cultures you wanted him to get familiar with, places to visit… Arthur’s health was back to normal, you could now guide him through your own era without bothering about any health issues he would encounter. Indeed, that man was not twenty anymore, but you were ready to do so much for him ! You were ready to guide him, to be with him. Beyond what Francis had first asked you. Your help turned into a beautiful blossoming relationship filled with embraces, kisses and… very noisy nights.

Switching this galaxy lamp became some sort of ritual every single night. Along with waking up to Arthur’s face and his hugs after you would come back from work, your daily embrace in bed facing a fake galaxy was your most favourite part of the day. At times, you would run your fingers into Arthur’s dirty-blonde locks, massaging his scalp with singing some song. Sometimes, he would do the same with you. You adored it, you adored him. No, you loved him… and did not have the courage to tell him just yet, but you knew this day would come soon enough. The world was filled with treasures, mysteries and beauty.

And Arthur was going to find out about them.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #gender neutral reader #modern arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #modern cowboy #soft arthur is the best #azurestales #cute #fluff #rdr2 au #sweet arthur morgan makes my heart melt idk why #red dead redemption #arthur morgan fanfiction

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panoffrying · 13 days

Text

My Dr. Sozonius LORE Headcanons

✨Warning this is a bit long✨

Sozo is a character that has lived for a very long time. Whatever that mushroom was on their head not only influenced Sozo but kept them immortal. We know really nothing bout Sozos past so I made some headcanons for silly fun and for me to visualize who Sozo was and what his life may have looked like. I want to do my best to keep this as game accurate as possible, so there will be quotes from the game. The quotes are not at all in order! I kinda just bring up random Sozo quotes as I go. Also I apologize if this doesn't make sense or if I ramble (I get excited about certain topics)

thank you so much @7moonbird for going over and editing this for me, Love ya Pookie!

And so we start:

Sozonius was born in the days of the old faith. He was present the day the Bishops declared the genocide of the lambs and he actually played a big part in assisting the lambs survival. However, he almost got caught and had to stop helping the lambs to keep his family safe. He's never seen any of the bishops but his village was part of Darkwood and therefore under Bishop Leshy’s ruling.

VILLAGE

Sozonius village was mostly a colony of Carpenter Ants, there were a few other species living there too but it was mostly Carpenter Ants. I imagine there are different races of ants depending on the region they’re in; so there could be fire ants, pharaoh ants, and more! Most ants get along nicely and work together but sometimes other races of ants can be more temperamental and cause conflict between colonies. Carpenter ants are a more calm type of ants, they aren't aggressive but they are incredibly strong. Carpenters ants are known to live in trees; they hollow out trees to make their homes and they like to stay off the ground as much as possible in case of floods and other dangers.

In the colony they had their ruler, the “Queen,” who looked over the village and did queenly business (not gonna go too deep into it). Everyone had many different jobs, ants are hard workers and very strong. They made marvelous structures, farmed a lot of crops, and knew how to work together when there was a threat. Sozo’s village was one that many others would try making deals/trades with. I would talk more about his village but that's not why y’all are here lol.

Sozonius was a fellow damn near everyone in the village knew. He loved his work and he loved to talk about it to anyone that expressed that they wanted to listen. He was that guy that you could get stuck in a conversation with and struggle to end it. He liked to ramble about his work and kids. Other than that though he never really started conversations with others, he would keep to himself unless someone interacted with him.

And I could definitely see him having a science rival but nothing too bad lol.

FAMILY

“Where am I…? Where is… my family…?” are the words Sozo says when he turns back into Dr. Sozonius. I like to think he had a wife and two children. They didn’t have the best marriage but they made it work out for their two sons. His wife was a bit stubborn and very honest. She would say things before thinking which did cause issues, but Sozonius let it slide because he loved her so much and wanted a happy family for his sons.

Sozonius was a very funny dude. He made dad jokes all the damn time, his family would pretend to hate the jokes but in reality they did love them.

Sozo Dialogue “Now all Sozo can think about is mushrooms, mushrooms, MUSHROOMS… They don’t leave mush-room for anything else! Ha!”

(Also, this next idea is inspired off of @kuphulwho headcanons for Sozo. I loved her ideas and I recommend y'all look at her headcanons too!) Aside from Sozonius being a mycologist he had a side hobby of art! He wasn't the best artist, but he was really talented with sketching plants/fungi, he liked to make art of anything that interested him. He most likely wrote an educational picture book about Fungi, there's probably an old copy of it somewhere.

This art hobby caught the interest of his two sons, and they also started to pursue art. Sozonius would take his free time teaching his sons how to draw plants and such. Sozonius would hang his kids' art everywhere in their house, it was like walking into an art museum haha.

JOB

Sozonius studied mycology which means he studied fungi. Sozonius knew fungi could benefit his society and he wanted to help educate others about the importance of fungi. Soon he learned enough of a new discovery of mushroom people, neither plant nor animal…Sozonius then made the decision to go on a solo mission to study the Mushroomo people.

THE MUSHROOMOS

Dr. Sozonius Dialogue “My name is Dr. Sozonius. I was researching the Mushroomos that live in Spore Grotto… strange creatures, Neither animal nor plant…”

Sozonius went to Spore Grotto and at first, he studied the Mushroomo people from a distance setting up a campsite near the Mushroomo Village. When the Mushroomo people discovered Sozonius they welcomed him into their home, cheerful happy little things. Sozonius was given the chance to learn more about these strange creatures up close! How could he say no? Sozonius was welcomed into Spore Grotto and was treated like a god.

Sozonius asked the Mushroomos many questions, but getting any actual answers from them was difficult. The Mushroomos treated Sozonius like he was their most special guest, they danced and sang for Sozonius. They would mimic Sozonius and follow him around, making sure to do anything he asked of them. There would be many times when the Mushroomos would offer to feed Sozonius menticide mushrooms but Sozonius knew a lot about fungi and declined their offers. However, there seemed to be a special Ritual the Mushroomos took part in…

Sozonius had been in Spore Grotto for many weeks now, it was time for him to leave, he had studied enough and was ready to return home but the Mushroomos were surprisingly sad when he announced this. They wanted to show Sozonius a sacred ritual to them before he left, he wasn't aware of the menticide mushrooms being part of it…

Dr. Sozonius Dialogue “They gave me Menticide Mushrooms, and then… that’s the last thing I remember…”

After Sozonius was tricked into eating menticide mushrooms and also gave Sozonius a crown, a crown that would grow into Sozoniuss mind, he shall be the Mushroomos leader… And the new Sozo was made. (literally just think of Ice Age 2 when the lil sloths take Sid to be their fire king, however they don't sacrifice him)

The mushroom on Sozos head is very powerful, it makes me wonder what it is exactly, it gives the person wearing it immortality, but also causes the user to go insane (don't forget that Sozo is also being fed menticide mushrooms) the mushroom crown kinda reminds me of Chemachs crown. It seems to have a mind of its own and a face. I feel like the Mushroomos for days straight made sure to give Sozo a diet of only menticide mushrooms to make him forget everything and to possibly power the mushroom crown. They would constantly tell Sozo that his mind would be open and free, that it would make him feel better, and Sozo being under the influence of the mushroom listened to them.

A Mushroomo Dialogue "Once you taste the Menticide Mushroom your mind will be opened."

As the years went by so did all the sanity Sozonius had left, but in some moments Sozonius seems to still be aware but not all there.

Sozo Dialogue “Sozo had friends... Followers... family... now Sozo has mushrooms..."

Sozo over time seems to start to dislike his followers and call them liars. He even becomes quite cruel to his followers. Yet he also mentions that he trusts the lamb and wants the lamb to protect him from his followers which makes me believe that Sozonius is somehow a little aware and fighting against the mushroom crown’s influence. He is mad at the Mushroomos for lying to him, tricking him, making him into who he is now.

Sozo Dialogue “No need to thanks Sozo. Build it at your Cult then come back to me. Sozo shall grant you one last gift. Sozo is always fair. Always repays this debts. Not like those LIARS out there."

"You did it! Now I know I can trust you... not like those nasty liars outside. They are always watching, always listening! Here take this. You are Sozo's best friend, you are Sozo's only friend."

"Sozo can trust you now, Sozo will pledge himself to you! You will protect me from those liars outside and bring Sozo mushrooms!"

(Also a side note that my gf brought to my attention last second lol! Apparently parasitic mushrooms rely on insects to spread. That is probably why they tricked Sozonius into staying and eating menticide mushrooms. Maybe it's been that long since they've seen an insect)

SOZOS IMPRISONMENT

So, this next little headcanon of mine is an interesting one and might be confusing to explain. Was Sozonius imprisoned within his own mind while under the control of the mushroom crown? If he was, I can see him being stuck in a sort of loop, imagining his family and friends. Think like Mabel's Bubble from ‘Gravity Falls’ weirdmageddon. Sozonius is trapped in a mental bubble, stuck in a false reality as the now mushroom-infected Sozo takes over his body and actions.

In Sozonius’s mental bubble he is in a place where trees are big, tall mushrooms and flowers are mushrooms, everywhere he turns its mushrooms. He knows something is wrong, everything is too strange, everyone he loves is there with him but is it real? It feels like he's living in a dream. Sozonius proceeds to talk to his friends and family as if they are actually there in which I noticed that Sozo will talk to the menticide mushrooms as if they are actual people.

Sozo Dialogue “Precious, perfect little mushrooms, Sozo is here now, Sozo will always be here…”

”Sozo is busy now… Sozo must commune with the ‘shrooms.”

As time passes more mushrooms grow in his mind prison, and they keep growing and growing until they start to grow on the people he loves. He knows something is happening, he's going mad, and he starts to search for an exit, he needs to escape this false reality that the mushroom crown has created for him.

He starts fighting the mushroom crown’s hold on him which causes him to regain some awareness. This is when a part of him realizes he’s been tricked, and he starts refusing everything the Mushroomos give him and becomes cruel to them. However, the lambs have never done him wrong before and the lamb (from the cult) begins to be the only person he can trust. At least until it becomes too much and well… we know Sozo’s fate.

SOZO’S REVIVAL

So Sozo doesn't get resurrected until all the bishops become mortal (at least in my playthrough). So all the bishop siblings are in the cult and learning the ways of mortal stuff and Sozo appears around the same time, still the crazy Sozo we know and love. However, he’s still very addicted to the menticide mushrooms and both the Lamb and night workers have found Sozo digging through the mushroom crops like a lil racoon.

Based on the game, Sozo likes to run around the cult and do his own thing; he often looks very spaced out but the moment someone talks to him he starts spitting nonsense before yelling at them to go away. The only people Sozo will talk to are people that give Sozo what he wants, which is menticide mushrooms! If you do that for him he will talk your ear off with nonsense, in conversations with him he will often talk about his followers, them being liars and disgusting little creatures. One day though Sozo’s personality seems to change? He starts to tell the lamb,

“Sozo was just here, all alone, thinking about mushrooms... Uh, Sozo means Sozo's little Mushroomo followers!”

”Yes,, they must be so lost without Sozo. They love Sozo! Everyone loves Sozo - especially Lamb!”

“Without their great and beloved Sozo, Mushroomos must be so scared... YOU! You must save them! Save them and bring them to Sozo.”

”They will be trapped in Anura. They are always getting captured when they don't have their great Sozo to protect them. Rescue them and bring them to me.”

But when you bring the followers to Sozo he ends up eating them. At first glance you can assume it's just his addiction, in which it most certainly could be! He sees a big mushroom and he's like oooo~ delicious but there's also a possibility of this being Dr. Sozonius’s anger coming out. The whole fighting against the mushroom crown’s influence and realization that he’s been tricked. Maybe a mix of his addiction and anger for what they did to him? I’m not too sure if Sozo eating the Mushroomos was a problem before he joined the cult.

Of course, this addiction must be stopped so the lamb decides enough is enough and refuses to get more Mushroomos. This causes Sozo to dissent and, with little choice, the Lamb has to put him in rehab. I imagine it would’ve been a struggle getting Sozo to the prison without the Red Crown’s help. With the power of an ant that is Sozo’s size it's a miracle he didnt break that pillory while he was in it. Sozo just stayed silent and didn't fight; the person he had put his trust and hope in has imprisoned him. Sozo is a bit depressed at that moment.

After Sozo has been re-educated, released, and cured of his addiction the mushroom crown finally falls off his head. Which, like I said before, makes me wonder, was it being powered by the menticide mushrooms Sozo has been eating or is it something else?

But Dr. Sozonius talks about some stuff before saying,

Dr. Sozonius Dialogue “I can’t help but feel that I have you to thank for… something. You have my loyalty, I will remain here and serve you. Please, take this!”

Sozonius was ready to live his life rather than reunite with his family in the afterlife. He wasn't expecting to be resurrected after dying in the cult from old age. But Sozonius gave the lamb their loyalty and promised to stay in the cult and serve them. The Lamb had been so kind as to give Sozonius an immortality necklace, the Lamb didn’t want Sozonius to go yet… and Sozo’s heart was too kind and soft. He will have to wait a bit longer to return home to his family, but maybe some good things will come out of staying longer~

Also! Who do we think Sozo was talking to?

A Mushroomo Dialogue "Who is Sozo talking to when he whispers in the dark...?"

Is he talking to himself? The mushrooms? Or the Fox?

#THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO MAKE #THANK YOU SO MUCH MOONBIRD #I hope yall like my idea of what Sozos story might be so sorry if I rambled a lot #hope yall like to read #my headcanons #cult of the lamb headcanons #cult of the lamb sozonius #cult of the lamb #sozo headcanons #cult of the lamb sozo #cotl sozo #cotl sozonius #cotl headcanons #sorry if it didn’t make sense😭#cotl dr sozonius #dr sozonius #the shattered crown AU

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bloo-the-dragon · 2 years

Photo

British dragon steals a couple of weird fish twins more at- yeah ok that jokes getting old.

SO ANYWAY! Here’s my contribution for mermay hjdkfg brain went big brrr on this one lol

Some basic lore info and backstory will be under the cut!

~~~

We’ll start with the backstory:

- Sun and Moon were found washed up ashore as lil bby fishies by a circus owner years ago and he rescued them. They stayed with him (not necessarily out of their own choice) and would do performances as part of the circus show.

- They were treated decently enough until the circus owner passed away, and the circus and all its assets were passed down to his son who was not so kind.

- His treatment of Sun and Moon would cause them to greatly distrust humans in the future. One day though he would be found dead, drowned under ‘mysterious circumstances’ in one of the tanks used for performances. Sun and Moon were in another tank however so there was little suspicion they had anything to do with it. (they did)

- The circus was disbanded, and all its assets were sold, including the celestial mer brothers who were bought by an exotics aquarium and put on display.

- At this point though, they had grown tired of being used as attractions. Life at the aquarium wasn’t too bad but they were treated more as animals than intelligent creatures and their distrust of humans had only grown since the incident with their last owner.

And this is where Bloo (my sona) comes in.

Being a non-human creature herself (fairy dragon) she could sense they were in distress and after having an encounter with them during a visit to the aquarium, decided to help them. That help coming in the form of breaking into the highly guarded exotics aquarium, stealing their highly valued sirens (she’s not one for planning ahead lol) and taking them home (and getting them some heckin therapy)

And now for the lore facts:

- They communicate with each other via telepathy (twin thing and all that) and while they can perfectly understand human speech, they can only speak a little of it themselves.

- Being mer/sirens they can sing, and they can sing very well. Moon’s singing can put you to sleep, while Sun’s singing can make you feel energized.

- As for what fish they are based on- i have no idea lol i mostly improvised xD but i did want to add in a mix of koi and shark themes! The ‘wings’ on their backs were inspired by flying fish. Since the robot versions can hook up to cables to ‘fly around’ the pizzaplex i figured the mer versions could have flying fish wings so they could fly and glide like flying fish do when they jump out of the water.

- Their pupils/irises disappeared as a result of neglect and poor care (they’re still there but faded) but they would slowly reappear again over time with enough care and attention (and no small amount of hugs and cuddles)

- After they are released back into the ocean, they’d still be pretty much like domesticated cats by this point though lol so they’d stick around Bloo alot by hanging around the shore near her home.

- They can form legs albeit temporarily, but doing so takes a lot of energy and so they very rarely do it. (Walking is a great struggle for them too so they’d rather crawl if the situation required them moving out of water)

That’s all for now! But i’m not done with it yet lol got more sketches in the works and will have them up and posted when i can. :3

(If you read it this far i giv u a cookie!)

#fnaf #fnaf security breach #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's security breach #fnaf sun #fnaf sundrop #fnaf moon #fnaf moondrop #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf fanart #mermay #sona #Bloo's Art #celestial merfolk #I was very tempted to go with an idea where she just buys two weird little fish from a pet shop #and they grow into two giant sirens hfdfjg #but i chose the aquarium one instead #because as funny as the other option was the chaotic one was more appealing #i might do some mini fish jester doodles though at some point lol

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prokopetz · 2 years

Note

I unfollowed you a while ago because I was mad and self-conscious that you could just drop a tabletop game on a whim based on innocuous tumblr posts when I’ve been working on mine for five years with very little fruit. But seriously, how do you do that?

A few things:

1. Breadth of experience is more important than depth. If you want to write games quickly, being passingly familiar with dozens or hundreds of other titles is more valuable than being deeply familiar with one or two. Most designer’s block stems from trying to re-invent the wheel; it's a lot easier to figure out what a game addressing a particular topic would look like when you can think of five examples of how other authors have done so just off the top of your head.

2. Focus. What is your game about? What do player characters actually do? If you were only allowed to write one scenario for your game, ever, what would that scenario be? Pare it down to its essentials: explore dungeon, fight dragon, get treasure, repeat. Don’t write a game that does everything – write a game that does that, and don’t even think about anything else until your game can actually do it. You can worry about branching out later.

3. That focus in mind, keep your eye on the minimum viable product. It's easy to think of all the things you'd like your game to have, but what does it need to have? What's the absolute bare minimum feature set that accomplishes what you've set out to accomplish? The crudest sketch of a complete, playable game is worth more than an elegant mechanism that doesn’t actually work because half of its critical components don’t exist yet.

4. Publish early, and publish often. Get your game in front of an audience as soon as you possibly can, and take any feedback you receive seriously. Game design is an inherently iterative process, and until you've engaged with an audience, you're still on iteration one; this is another common source of designer’s block. That ties into the previous point: as soon as you've got that bare sketch of the outline of your game put together, get some eyes on it that aren't yours.

5. Don't chase after white whales. Try to have many different projects in various stages of development, covering as broad a range of subjects as your interests will allow, and accept that most of them will turn out to be unworkable. Set aside current projects and return to old ones as circumstances warrant; often, struggling with project A will provide critical insight on project B, even if they’re not obviously related to one another.

6. Originality is a sucker’s game. This goes back to my first point: if you see something another designer has done that feels like it would be perfect for your game, steal it. Be wary of bandwagon-jumping – a lot of games shoot themselves in the foot by imitating the latest indie darling wholesale, without adequately considering whether it’s really a good fit for what they’re trying to do – but also don’t discard a good idea just because somebody else thought of it first.

(That last one applies to stealing from yourself, too. Sometimes you’ll come up with a new idea and realise that some existing project can be dusted off and re-purposed with very little effort. When that happens, seize the opportunity!)

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #game design #swearing

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arctic-shard · 4 months

Note

scp-012 causes whoever saw it to continue the notes using their own blood and if that person were to finish a section of the sheet, the person will kill themself declaring the piece is impossible to finish, I just thought it would be interesting gift for the Yellow Lord.

Bumping this up the queue because the furnace is broken and my office is too cold to work in, so drawing is out for now ( I can set my laptop up anywhere, but hauling out the peripheries like the scanner is Too Much Effort and I have no space for it in my temporary workspace. ) But I can write, and while I could just do a little illustration for this, the idea intrigues me too much to leave it at that anyway.

Dunno how old you are @randomlbirdo, so here's the warnings: No sex happens but there's a couple mentions of Odious as a sexually-active being. Self-harm, sort of, does it count when you're not doing it to hurt yourself, you just need to feed blood to a cursed artefact?

----------

The Unending Crescendo

The Yellow Lord Odious has an anomalous object stolen from the Foundation. It can resist the curse, but it can't resist a challenge …

---

The Lords of Alagadda, much as they considered Earth a backwater world, still kept an eye on it with their agents and cults. It was a wild place, full of emotion and stories and creativity and Alagaddans craved those things.

The Earth also contained the SCP Foundation - not a threat, but something to keep tabs on. The Foundation meddled with Alagadda occasionally, which was what initially drew the attention of the lords, but what kept their attention were the artefacts the Foundation had hidden away in storage. In their attempt to keep anomalies out of the hands of their fellow humans, the Foundation had gathered them up into convenient boxes that a determined Alagaddan Lord could borrow whenever it pleased.

There were ways to smuggle things in and out of Alagadda unchanged. They involved complicated alchemical wards and rituals, but it was doable.

This was not what the Yellow Lord, Wearer of the Odious Mask, was thinking about at the moment. It had put such plans into action weeks ago. It was busy in its study, sketching out musical notes as it played them - primary hands on the violin, secondary to write. The wastebasket nearby was overflowing with torn and crumpled sheets. Aside from the desk, the room contained dozens of musical instruments, including the organ it used for practice. The grand pipe organ of il Palazzo dell'Ira was in the audience hall.

Odious snarled as a knock on the door distracted it. Not that it was making any more progress than usual, but what if this time the notes were correct? It set down the violin with uncharacteristic gentleness, crumpled the sheet and threw it in the general vicinity of the wastebasket, then stalked to the door and flung it open.

A servant stood there, struggling with the weight of a gold case covered in alchemical symbols and the Yellow Lord's brand. The servant tried to lift the case to present it, but the gold was too heavy. "My Lord, I have the artefact. But do be careful with it."

The servant flinched under Odious' glare, the Yellow Lord not deigning to answer vocally. How dare this lesser being be concerned for it and not hateful? Odious was no apprentice alchemist who needed warnings, Odious was one of the great powers of Alagadda. But it did note how reluctantly the servant parted with the case, not because it wanted to protect Odious but because the artefact inside pulled at it. Odious had prepared for that - once the case was locked, only Odious could open it again, protecting its lessers from the artefact's curse. Odious needed the servant alive to deliver it, after all.

Odious chased the servant away, locked the door, and set the gold case on its desk.

It was one of the contradictions of Alagadda that Alagaddans were not themselves creative. The Humours were muses, sparking creativity in lesser beings but incapable of true creation themselves. Mirth was too stupid to care about this and Diligence even seemed to prefer copying, but Odious was different. Its role to be discontented, and one of those sources of discontent was that it was unable to compose its own music. Every time it tried, it only heard other composers - not mere influences but the core of the work. Nothing in its own compositions was Odious.

Deep in its twisted heart, Odious longed to be heard. Perhaps the only one who truly knew Odious was the Hanged King itself as it plundered Odious' mind for new sensations. But did the King really know it? Was it only interested in the hate Odious was created for and ignored its soul?

Odious could scream and use telepathy and fuck and torture, but these were all crude methods of communication compared to music. Music was pure. If Odious could just compose something of its very own, if it could write its Self in musical notation, maybe it would finally reach someone. Maybe someone would finally understand.

Maybe the King would be proud.

Millennia of failure had left it desperate enough to dabble in unknown magic. It drew a key from one of its pockets, licked the teeth to coat them in its bile, and opened the gold case.

Inside was a single sheet of music, penned in blood.

Perhaps it would accept Alagaddan ichor as a suitable ink.

Odious could feel the pull of the artefact. The page wanted blood. Odious denied it for now - no mere artefact could usurp the will of a Humour. Instead it set it on the desk. It hummed the melody as it read the score.

An interesting piece. Bold and jarring, but Odious quickly determined that this artefact wouldn't solve its problem. The score didn't change with each new blood donor, the music was using the blood to complete itself. Odious could add nothing to it but ink.

Odious lifted a hand to rip the paper to shreds in frustration, but changed its aim at the last instant to tear scratches in the table. It had put in an effort to claim this artefact. It would be more of a waste to destroy it immediately. Perhaps Odious could figure out the mechanism of it, to craft a page that it could wring out its heart over and write its own soul.

The melody had intrigued it. How would it sound with more parts played? Music was the purest language, playing the score would help Odious understand the artefact. It set the page on a music stand, settled itself beside the organ, and picked up the violin again.

Odious played perfectly. It always did. It had a passion for instrumental music from its awakening and had practiced for millennia. Two hands for the violin. Six on the organ - it didn't need to look at it to hit every note and pull every stop correctly.

The music was a discordant cacophony, mere noise to someone without Odious' experience. There was something in it, a pattern just at the edge of understanding. And the music just kept building. It shouldn't have been possible - a crescendo can't build forever, there needs to be a release or at least lessening of tension, but it never came. The single page somehow held thousands of lines of music, and the music swelled and built up and up for hours, frustrating and leaving Odious desperate for a conclusion, like an orgasm that just wouldn't come off …

The score ended so abruptly that for an instant Odious thought it had died. But it couldn't be dead, it had been dead before and its dead husk's hearts didn't hammer like this, its lungs didn't heave like this when it was dead. With shaking hands, it lowered its violin.

The violin had a chin rest made of Alagaddan porcelain-chitin, one of the few substances that Odious' bile couldn't destroy. It hadn't helped - Odious had leaked so much from its eyes and mouth that the bile had overflowed and scorched the instrument. Odious threw it aside and glared down at the music sheet.

"Where are you going with this? How do you end?" it hissed, taking the glove off one of its secondary hands and slicing the soft palm open with a talon. Thick, black ichor dripped onto the page and formed more notes.

Odious read the new lines. No conclusion, just more build-up. But it had to be near a resolution. It had to end. Odious ruptured some inner chambers in its body to send more ichor out of the wound.

The notes continued to form.

Odious wasn't going to let a piece of paper defeat it.

It picked up a new violin and readied itself beside the organ. There was no place to start from but the beginning - to begin in the middle would be an insult to the piece.

Odious could focus on regenerating its ichor to drip on the page and play the violin and play the organ. And, just to show the page who held the power, it sang the melody as well, a sharp, wordless soprano. It was the greatest musician in Alagadda, in all the lands of the Nevermeant, possibly even the multiverse. It was going to play the piece perfectly and to the end.

Hours later it reached the part written in its own ichor and kept playing. Odious was going to make it to the end. It was going to find the conclusion.

---

Odious woke up stiff and aching, staring up at the ceiling of its study. It tried to strech but couldn't move.

Finally awake, my lord?

The Ambassador. Odious managed to turn its head to find the hateful creature delicately unfolding the crumpled balls of paper from the wastebasket. It had no face, but Odious knew it was sneering at its attempts at writing music. Odious flexed its arms, recognising the feel of rope around them. "What are you doing here?"

Amusing myself by reading your pitiful efforts to create, my lord.

"Fuck you. You interrupted my practice."

The Ambassador huffed. Practice? You allowed yourself to be possessed by a mere artefact. I had to bind you to pry you away from it, all while you screamed that you had to finish the song.

While the Ambassador prattled, Odious managed to curl around to drip bile on some of the ropes to burn them away. With a few arms free, it began untying itself. "Where is the cursed music sheet?"

Back where your stooge took it from.

Perhaps the artefact was more dangerous than Odious had given it credit for, if the Ambassador itself had deigned to remove it from Alagadda. It was the humans' problem again. "What do you care what I do?"

I do not.

Which meant that it had been ordered. Which meant that the Hanged King had sensed something wrong with Odious and sent its servant to sort things out -

Odious' thoughts were interrupted by the Ambassador's laughter. Is that sentiment I sense in you, my lord? Does the Seething Prince long for daddy's approval? For shame. Our King will be most disappointed.

Finally free of the ropes, Odious lunged for the Ambassador. It stepped out of the way and Odious ended up tackling its own desk.

When Odious untangled itself from the furniture, the Ambassador was gone. Odious howled in rage, at the loss of its prey, at the Ambassador's taunts. You twist my thoughts! I don't want love and approval! I don't want softness! I am everything I am meant to be - I am hate and anger and passion and violence - and I am the best at it! I play my role perfectly! I want -

Odious needed to be perfect. Nothing less was enough. It had to be so perfect that no one could ever find flaw, not even itself. It was a hard way to live, a crescendo without end. If it was perfect, then people would finally notice all it did for Alagadda and appreciate it, instead of taking the rituals and concerts and efforts for granted. It did what it was meant to do but nobody cared that it did it well, they only noticed when Odious made a mistake, so Odious had to be perfect, perfect, perfect …

I want …

The ending Odious craved was to become so hateful, so despised that the Hanged King itself grew angry enough to blast it out of existence. To be seared into oblivion by the hate of a god … glorious. Perfection.

But Odious also wanted to lay its head in the Hanged King's lap, feel the desiccated fingers stroke its hair, and know its efforts and work were seen and appreciated. To know that it had succeeded at being the Yellow Lord, at being Odious. To know that the King was proud of it. To be able to rest, just for a little while.

Triumphant fine or quiet diminuendo, there could be no applause, no rest, until the play was over.

I want to know how it ends.

#alagadda #yellow lord odious #yellow lord alagadda #scp-2264 #scp-012

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sofjoy82 · 11 months

Text

I’ve been wanting to make a snippet for @stormcallart Elf Izuku and Orc Toshi AU for a while now. I added my own little ✨spice✨ with some plot explaining how Toshi got a baby elf.

~~~

It wasn’t unusual for the tavern to be filled with interesting patrons throughout the night. Particularly towards the end of the day when the weary traveler stopped for a drink.

Kurogiri knew not to ask where anyone was going, who they were, or what their business was. Everyone had their own story and either he didn’t care to know or he wasn’t supposed to know.

The tavern was popular amongst thieves and travelers for that reason. People could come and not have to worry about questions or the law. In this tavern they were just men and women grabbing a drink, gambling, or talking.

Kurogiri was putting some coins away when he saw the door open in the corner of his eye. A large man stepped into the tavern and held the door open for someone behind him before closing the door and walking over to the bar. The bartender looked up at his patron and greeted him when he sat down with a grunt.

It was an orc. A rather large one at that. Orcs were regarded as a rather violent race of creature and this man was covered in scars from old battles. His hair was bone white and styled into two large bangs. He set his axe down and leaned it against the bar before settling down.

Kurogiri nodded to the man and took out a glass for him. “Afternoon, Sir. Is there anything I can get you?”

The orc had been looking to the side at something and looked back up at Kurogiri when he was spoken to. “An ale,” He said gruffly, reaching into his pouch and pulling out a few coins. He placed them onto the bar and nodded to the chair beside him. “And a milk for my companion. If you have it I’d also like a pen and paper for him.”

Kurogiri hadn’t noticed until that moment that the orc wasn’t alone.

The bartender leaned over the counter slightly to look down at his other patron, a small elven boy. He had to be three or four summers old. His pointed ears and forest green hair were indicators of his elvish heritage. A mass of freckles splattered his face and two big green eyes peered up at Kurogiri.

The boy smiled and waved at Kurogiri before attempted to crawl up into the bar stool. The orc watched him struggle for a moment before reaching down and plopping him down in the chair beside him. The boy beamed as the orc fixed the flower crown in his hair.

Kurogiri swiped the coins into his pouch before fetching the order. The orc nodded his head in thanks when he was handed his ale and the little boy happily thanked the bartender when handed his milk and paper.

The orc waited until his ward was happily doodling away on his paper before holding up a hand and calling the bartender back over. Kurogiri walked back and saw the orc had a laid out a wanted poster.

“Has this man come through here?” The orc questioned, tapping on the sketch on the paper. Kurogiri only glanced at the sign before shaking his head in denial. “I don’t remember any of my customers, much less who comes and goes.” He said automatically.

You don’t sell out clients. As long as they paid their tab Kurogiri had no issue with who or what they were. People wouldn’t want to come to his tavern if they found he was selling them out.

The orc studied him for a moment before shrugging and taking a sip of his ale and calmly explaining his reasoning.

“I’m trying to find this little one his mother.” He nodded to the boy beside him, who wasn’t really listening to the adults. “Inko was my friend and Izuku’s mother. I believe this man took her. He left the kid in the house and I’ve been caring for him since. If I find him I can figure out what happened to her.”

Toshinori read the silence of the bartender and took out the poster again. This time Kurogiri took it wordlessly.

“His name is Hisashi Shigraki, but people know him as All For One.” Toshinori added, watching the other man study the poster.

“I don’t know him personally, but I know of him.” He lowered his voice, watching the other patrons carefully to ensure no one was eavesdropping. “He’s known as the demon king. A king of thieves and criminals. I don’t know what he wants with your friend, but if you find the right person they’ll be able to take you to him. I’d bet someone here may know.”

With that, Kurogiri handed the poster back and walked away to attend to other patrons around the bar. Toshinori sighed and took another swig of his ale.

It had been months since Inko disappeared. They grew up together as children. Toshinori admired her for her kindness and gentle beauty. He had been horrified when Izuku came to his home in the middle of the night, crying that someone took his mama. Since then Toshinori had been asking around and following leads to try and find the woman. He used his connections as a bounty hunter to get here.

Toshinori could feel Izukus eyes on him and glanced at the boy. Izuku was looking up at him with a hopeful expression.

“Are you trying to find mama?” He asked hopefully. It had been close to a year since Mr Toshi took him in. They had been going on adventures together and catching bad guys, all while looking for his mama.

Izuku wanted to feel mamas warm hugs again. See her smile, hear her laugh, and play with her. He hoped secretly that she’d make Toshi his new dad. Then they could be a family who went on adventures together!

A gentle hand ruffled Izukus hair, making the boy smile softly and lean into the touch. “We’ll get her back.” Toshinori promised. He had been promising himself that since the beginning. He’d find Inko and bring her home.

The orc quickly changed the subject to something more positive and pointed at the picture Izuku had drawn. “What’s this?” He questioned, taking the paper and holding it up to study. Izuku smiled and pointed at each of the figures. “Its us!” He explained proudly. “You, me, and mama.”

Toshinori felt his heart soften at the picture. It was a little family portrait. They were all smiling in a field of flowers and happy. It sometimes amazed him how Izuku managed to see such a bright and happy future at all times. Perhaps it was childish wonder and innocence or the darkness the orc had seen, but he truly hoped it never left his boy.

The tender little moment was interrupted when a heavy hand fell on Toshinoris shoulder. “I heard you’re looking for trouble.” A gruff voice began. The orc stiffened and quickly turned in his chair to face the speaker.

A large man with blond hair smirked down at Toshinori. Izuku winced when he saw one of his eyes was scared over and gone, replaced with a glass orb. Toshinori recognized him as Gato, although many people knew him as the rather violent bandit Muscular.

Toshinori spoke firmly, not allowing himself to let his guard down around the criminal. “I’m not looking for trouble. Just here for a drink with my son.”

The blond sneered at Toshinori. “Because I heard you were looking for the demon king. That sounds like trouble.”

It was at that moment that Toshinori noticed several other men in the tavern watching them. Four of them sat in the back of the tavern, drinking as they watched the confrontation. The hairs on the back of Yagis neck stood on end as he realized they were waiting for him.

Toshinori narrowed his eyes and let his hand fall to his belt where his knife rested in its sheath. Izuku was looking at the adults around him with wide eyes. “It’s not a problem unless we make it one. As I said, I’m enjoying a nice evening with my son.”

It quickly became clear that this man wasn’t going to stop bothering Toshinori. The orc stood and tried to grab Izuku to carry him out, but at that moment Gato lashed out with a wicked laugh and lunged at the orc.

Izuku squeaked and jumped in his chair when his caretaker reacted in an instant, grabbing the other man by the wrist and back of the neck and yanking him forward, slamming him into the bar counter. The force knocked several glasses off the counter to the floor where they shattered. Gato yelled in surprise and pain and quickly tried to wrench himself out of the orcs grip.

Toshinori held the writhing man down for another moment before letting him go and allowing him to scramble back. Gato looked surprise at being taken on like that. Toshinori had a calm expression on his face as he reached over and picked up Izuku and placed him onto the bar. He made eye contact with Kurogiri and set down a couple of coins.

“Give him a milk, please. This’ll only take a minute.”

Izuku sat on the counter with a cold glass of milk as he watched his adoptive father fight with the big scary man. He sipped on his milk calmly and followed the fight as Toshinori delivered blow after blow to Gato. Soon the other thieves joined in an attempt to defend their friend, but quickly realized fighting a massive orc after several ales was by far not a good idea.

Kurogiri stood beside Izuku and cleaned a glass as he watched the fight unfold. He noted the calm demeanor of the child and hummed. “Does this happen a lot?” He questioned.

Izuku nodded and took a sip of his milk. “A lot.”

In the end Toshinori dropped the last bandit on the floor and watched with a dark look as the man scurried away in fear. Now that that was handled, he zeroed in on Muscular who was tending to a broken nose. His excitement over the fight seemed to have waned as he realized they hadn’t even landed a blow on the orc.

Toshinori walked over to Gato and yanked him up by the front of his shirt, peeling him off of the floor. “Where is All For One?” He demanded harshly.

Gato smiled up at him, showing a gap where a tooth had been just a moment ago, and let out a laugh of disbelief. “I guess you earned it, big guy. All For One will be able to take care of you. He has a small outpost down the river. He’ll kill you, I hope you know that.”

Toshinori studied him for a moment before reaching down and grabbing the coin pouch at Gatos belt. The thief’s eyes widened as the pouch was tossed over to the bar. Kurogiri gave a nod of thanks and accepted the payment without a word.

Gato was dropped like a doll and ignored as Toshinori walked over to his boy. He took Izukus drawing and carefully rolled it up and stowed it in his bag before lifting the elf into his arms. He raised a questioning brow when he saw Izuku had a whole bottle of milk in his arms.

Izuku smiled at his papa and happily held up the gift from Mr Kurogiri. “Can we come back here again? I had fun!”

Toshinori smiled at his boy and carried him out of the tavern. “Sure. I had fun as well.”

#midoriya izuku #all might #sofstash #fantasy #snippet

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