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iamasaddie · 2 months ago

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AN HONEST MISTAKE

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: swiping left and right on tinder, you think you match with Joel Miller, a handsome single dad in his late 30s. Feeling enamored and horny you decide to meet in person, only to be met with an almost completely different person. warnings: darkfic, dub-con eliments due to alcohol intoxication, gaslighting, very big age gap [Joel is 61], switching POVs, explicit sexual content. Some tags are not added to avoid spoilers, dm me if you need the full list. reader description: afab she/her, has hair long enough to be pulled; has boobs and ass; reader mid to late 20s-early 30s. word count: 6,2k

a/n: thank you for all of the excitement and interest you'd shown to this idea, i have been working on it for some time and i'm finally happy to show you part one. huge thanks to @arcanefox207 , Ally helped me to polish this chapter and shown me a lot of support which i truly appreciate <3 READ ON AO3

MASTERLIST | part 2

Dating wasn’t fun. It always felt like an inescapable chore for you, and you tried to avoid it at all costs. Hiding your face in your morning cup of tea when attacked by your mom’s questions, her voice distorted by poor video connection. Joking only to avoid the topic of boyfriends and girlfriends when your friend kept nagging you about it. Losing yourself in an unsatisfactory myriad of hands that belonged to faceless people when the nights got too cold for empty sheets.

You looked at your table, a small hand-made sign read “do better” in your own handwriting. And that was exactly what you were going to do. You were going to kill not two, but three birds with one stone, and that stone was going to be going on a date. A real, proper date, with excruciatingly predictable questions and awkward first touches. And you were going to have fun.

On the fourth hour of swiping Tinder, you were a breath away from ghosting everyone you knew and hiding in the Peruvian Amazonia for the rest of your life. The few conversations that you managed to have quickly died out when the person you talked to learned what you were there for. A month ago you’d find a pretty face and invite them over to smoke and have some fun, but that wasn’t a great start for an actual relationship. No, your fuckgirl days were over, so you went back to swiping.

And that was when you saw him.

Joel M., 39 Southern gentleman with a beautiful daughter. Work in construction, so I can build you a house. I am looking for a real connection, please, respect that.

God, he was handsome. Your mouth started salivating as you swiped through his pictures. He was broad, tall and had a tool in his hand. Not the one you immediately started wondering about, but it looked like at least he didn’t lie in his description. Feeling like a complete creep, you screenshotted his profile. If you weren’t a match, at least you’d have someone pretty to think about before going to bed tonight.

Gently, as if afraid, you swiped right. Your screen lit up, and so did your face, you gave a wide grin to your phone. “It’s a match!”

He was too good to be true. A gentleman, he didn’t lie there. Joel gave you the exact amount of attention to make you run towards your phone whenever it rang. It was definitely nothing like you expected. He was attentive, remembering what you said and when, never shied away from your questions, and on top of that he was devastatingly hot.

You heard a blip of a new message and unlocked your phone, a smile already plastered on your face like a Pavlovian reaction.

[Joel M.]: I was thinking, we seem to have a nice connection here, don’t we? [You]: I think so, too. A little unbelievable, but I am feeling hopeful. [Joel M.]: Unbelievable how?[You]: Unbelievable that no one snatched you up earlier. From where I am sitting, you look like a full package. [Joel M.]: Well, you’re sitting awfully far away, so I see how it looks like that. Why don’t we meet in person and find out if you still think the same, darlin? [You]: Joel, are you inviting me on a date? [Joel M.]: Only if you’re accepting. How about a dinner at my place? I am a pretty decent cook.

Your hand hovered above the screen. It wasn’t smart, going to a man’s place for your first date. He could be a creep, he could be a murderer… But then again, you could never brag about your self preservation instincts, sometimes you just thought with a little kitty purring between your legs.

You tapped on his profile again, looking at the zoomed in picture of his face. His brown eyes looked sad, but kind. A half-smile tugged on his soft-looking lips. Just a few sprinkles of salt and pepper in his hair. Even if he turned out to be a creep, you’d never had such a handsome lay before, and you were planning to check all of his tools as soon as you could, you thought to yourself before typing your reply.

[You]: I’d love that. Send me the address?

You weren’t worried, not really. You never struggled with too low of self-esteem. You knew your strong suits, and you wore them like armor. The upcoming date sent a pleasant shiver down your back, anticipation made you giggle into the void of your lonely apartment. The closer the day came, the giddier you became.

So on the fateful night you had enough confidence to pick out the dress that was a bit uncomfortable but looked gorgeous on your body. You smacked some lipstick that complemented the shade of your skin, grabbed a small purse and a bottle of wine and winked at your reflection in the mirror. You looked good, you felt even better.

August kept tricking you with its weather, the days still suffocated you with heat while the nights were unpleasantly chilly. You hugged your naked shoulders and rubbed your skin in an attempt to warm up as you waited for your Uber to arrive.

You got inside the white Honda Civic, the smell of cigarettes unpleasantly soaked into the seats so you opened up the window praying that it wouldn’t stink up your dress. The driver acknowledged you with a small grunt and a nod, you did the same, not willing to start a conversation. The estimated forty minutes dragged out and became an hour in the man’s GPS, of course you got stuck in traffic it was just your luck. And on your way to a literal dream man, no less.

Your kitten heel kept tapping on the car floor, the annoyed-looking driver gave you a stern look in the rear view mirror that you completely ignored. You needed to warn Joel that you were going to be late, and it made you want to grind your teeth. You hated being late, be that a party, a dentist appointment or a walk in the park with a friend. It made you feel guilty, leaving your palms sticky with cold sweat. You clearly weren’t going to make a good first impression, and with the way you chewed your lip bloody, you might not even get a kiss. You looked at the picture of him you shamelessly saved to your camera roll. Out of the two of you, you were definitely winning the creep competition, while he was just a dream come true.

You zoomed in on his face, your thumb caressed the pixels of his skin. There were smile lines around his lips, and you wondered what made him laugh so hard throughout his life that the remnants of the gesture permanently cut themself into his skin. Joel’s eyes were gleaming with youthful mischief, something you’d thought a person loses after having a child, but he clearly proved you wrong. Sun made his brown look like amber, adding to the overall handsomeness of the man. You imagined yourself next to him – yes, it was way too early, but you couldn’t keep your mind from wandering – he’d be taller, bigger than you, his strong hand on your lower back as you walk through the city. The eyes of men and women hungry to have what’s yours, but he’d only look at you. Yes, he was a bit older, but still young enough to have you on his arm without dealing with accusatory stares and venomous whispers behind your back.

A loud honking from the car behind you made you jump in your seat. The line of cars finally started moving and it brought a sense of relief to you. You had 20 more minutes, maybe you were still going to make it.

The sound of your heels kissing the pavement echoed like gunfire through the neighborhood. When your taxi left you at the needed address, you looked around. It wasn’t too late, the small houses still looked alive with yellow lights and muffled voices. You took a deep breath, straightened your back and looked in front of yourself, examining the location.

From the outside, Joel’s house looked nice. Nothing too fancy, the white paint a bit chapped, but the porch looked recently freshened up. A sturdy looking rocking chair covered with a blanket and a pillow gave the place a cozy feeling. His lawn was perfectly trimmed, and you imagined watching him mow it from that same porch with an iced tea in your hand. He’d be sweaty and shirtless, you’d drag him inside to fuck before he finished even a third of the territory. You clenched your thighs, a small pool of wetness gathering in your thongs. You better keep that thought away or you’d jump the poor man’s bones before he had the chance to say hello.

You checked your phone, 8:27 PM. Not too late, even acceptable in some countries, you tried to cheer yourself on. You hoped he wasn’t as insane about being late as you were or here went your first date in years. Gently, you tapped on the wooden door, the sound of someone approaching from the other side made you squeeze the bottle neck harder.

When the door flew open, you stretched out the hand holding the wine and fired out an apology in the most comical way you could, your eyes tightly shut.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, the traffic was horrendous. I promise I am usually never late, ever.” When no reply followed, you opened your eyes, a smile still tugging on your lips as you took in the man in front of you. It was both Joel and not. With your hand still outstretched, your mouth dropped with a hundred different questions, but you only managed to ask one. “Joel?”

“Hello, darlin’.”

“Is this some kind of a joke? Are you his dad or something?”

The man in front of you was not in his late thirties, hell, he wasn’t even in his late forties! The Joel that was staring at you looked pretty old, mid-fifties at least, you thought to yourself. His hair was mostly salt, no pepper in sight. It was inches longer than in the picture, soft-looking, it curled at the bottom. He was as tall and broad as you imagined, and it did give a little pang to your core that you quickly shut off. His face was ridden in wrinkles, prominent crows feet near his eyes that were still sad, still brown. You had half a thought to turn around and order yourself an Uber home, but the bewildered look on his face made you stop where you were.

“Darlin’, I know what’s going through your head right now, because I promise I didn’t expect you to be this young either! It must’ve been Sarah, my baby girl. She set up this thing, said she was tired of seeing her old man sad an’ miserable. Guess she didn’t think I was mighty attractive anymore.” He says with a self-deprecating chuckle. “She just straight up told me today that a nice woman would come over for a dinner, said she’d be here too, and if I loved her I had better prepared my nicest shirt an’ all. Christ, what was that girl thinking?”

You caught yourself feeling bad for the man, your heart clenching. He was still definitely handsome. His stomach was slightly more prominent and his was shirt hugging him tightly in the middle. His hand that tucked a little white strand of hair behind his ear matched his face in little sun spots, skin that had been kissed by the burning star for longer than you’d been alive. But he still got it, in a silver fox kind of way. Poor man, put into such an embarrassing situation by his own daughter. Being willingly childfree had never looked more appealing to you.

“You came all the way here just to be disappointed, I can’t tell you how-“

“I’m not disappointed,” you interrupted him quickly and stepped forward, an unknown force drove your hand to squeeze his forearm in a reassuring gesture. His eyes dropped when your manicured nails dug into his ironed flannel. “Just surprised, but that’s not a bad thing. We both unknowingly catfished each other.”

“Catfish? Ain’t that a type of fish?”

“No,” you laughed lightheartedly, the man was adorable. The cold breeze picked up, and you were reminded that you were still on the porch, if any neighbors were out they were definitely getting a fresh batch of gossip to discuss before sleep. “It’s when you… You know what, no matter, it’s not important.”

Joel looked hesitant, his jaw ticked and you noticed him look you up and down before swallowing hard. Was he blushing?

“I want to make it up to you before you go. I made us a nice dinner when I thought you were umm… age appropriate,” Joel tightened his lips and gave you an apologetic smile. “It ain’t catfish, just a steak, but I swear on my mama, it’s good.”

Before you could respond, your stomach growled making the decision for you. Your hand jumped to it, fisting the material of your dress as if trying to silence the embarrassing sound.

“Well, I don’t see any harm in that,” you smiled, accepting Joel’s invitation. The man looked harmless and you didn’t want to leave him sad and miserable, it seemed like he felt guilty enough. “It was quite a long drive.” Maybe it all could become a funny story you both would tell your friends. Separately.

He stepped aside and you waltzed inside his house. It was big enough to still be cozy without making you feel trapped. The warm light made everything look safe and homey, hardwood floor creaked gently under your footsteps. The door lock clicked behind you and you turned around.

Joel was looking at you, a more confident smile now stretching his lips. The soft lighting took a few years off his face, and once again you noted that the man aged like a fine wine. That reminded you of the bottle you were still tightly gripping in your hand, and you stretched it out to Joel for the second time that night. He accepted with a muttered ‘thank you’.

“Feel at home, sweetheart, I’ll just grab something real quick.” Joel pointed towards his kitchen, the space was open, luring you in with a mouth-watering smell.

You felt awkward walking around a stranger’s house, but followed his instructions.

You didn’t see the way his eyes lingered on the exposed skin of the back of your thighs, his tongue flicking over his lower lip in anticipation.

He disappeared further into the hallway, and you made your way towards the dining table.

Alone, you took the opportunity to study the place you were allowed in. Unfortunately, it wasn’t very unique, or maybe you were just a shitty detective. Joel’s kitchen that spilled out into a dining room was disappointingly ordinary. Walls painted a soft yellow; polished doors of wooden cupboards and kitchen cabinets that looked old but taken care of; a four-person dining table that was now set with a few plates, simple utensils, napkins and wine glasses. You narrowed your eyes trying to see the pictures that were stuck to the fridge with small butterfly magnets. Your long ride and empty stomach must’ve taken a toll on your eyesight so you could barely make out Joel in those. There was a picture of him with another man, and… You leaned over the table as if trying to get closer, to see better.

“You know, you can just come closer to the fridge.” Joel’s chuckle made you jump in your seat.

“Sorry, I was just,” the right explanation failed you, and you surrendered. “I was just being nosy.”

“Didn’t catch you going through my drawers, so no harm. Can’t really snoop if it’s out there to see, right?” Joel set the opened bottle of the wine you’d brought on the table and waved a bottle opener in his right hand. “Haven’t had wine in some time so had to go look for this guy,” he explained.

“Whatever you made, it smells delicious,” you smiled at him. The sucking feeling in your stomach became uncomfortable, and you cursed at yourself internally for skipping lunch.

“Well then, let’s get some of it in you, shall we?”

Joel seemed way more relaxed, maybe your agreement to spend time with him made him feel less guilty for his daughter’s actions; or maybe it was the confidence of being a host. Either way, it looked good on him.

You didn’t stop your eye from wandering over his frame while he looked away, putting food on your plates. His dark green shirt was snug around his broad shoulders, the soft-looking material translated the feeling of warmth and comfort you lacked in your dress. He had blue jeans on, and you felt your cheeks heat up when you noticed a firm ass hidden behind the rough fabric. Your hand left the table, and you tugged at your bottom lip absent-mindlessly. What was twenty more years? He turned around and since your eyes hadn't moved, you were now shamelessly staring at his crotch. The jeans did not hide much.

You snapped your face up immediately at Joel’s quiet cough. There was a barely hidden smirk on his face, so you decided that no harm was done. So what if you gave the man a quiet compliment? You’d been doing that for the last two weeks, even though apparently his daughter was the one responding to them. You could spare some flirting for the poor guy, he looked like he enjoyed a bit of your harmless attention.

He didn’t lie, he was a decent cook. The meat melted on your tongue and the wine you brought complimented it nicely. You didn’t notice the way your glass was always full, Joel’s stories from the past kept you too entranced.

Heat was creeping up your chest, settling in your cheeks and you moved the wine glass away. You could tolerate a full bottle without being visibly affected, not your proudest trick but it was what it was. Yet, now you felt like you’d emptied at least a couple of bottles on an empty stomach, even though the bottle on the table proved otherwise. You felt dizzy, but not in a bad way, just more relaxed than you were planning to be. Joel looked more handsome every minute, his syrupy thick voice lulled you into a trance-like headspace.

“Can’t lie, you look mighty pretty, darlin’. Had I been thirty years younger it’d be hard to keep my hands to myself.”

Wine dimmed your instincts, so you just giggled. Joel’s eyes darkened as he tripped his gaze from your face to your bust, your breasts straining against the silk fabric of your dress. You noticed him looking and cleared your throat, tits jiggling slightly.

“Forgive an old man, sweetheart?” There was nothing sorry about his tone, but it slipped your mind completely, your guard almost all the way down. “As I said, haven't had a pretty thing like you here in ages.”

You tried to study his face, your brain foggy as you struggled to figure him out. “You compliment like a man deep in the dating pool,” you smirked, “makes it hard to believe it’s all an accident. Maybe you actually lured me in here

intentionally?” You raised your eyebrows, but couldn’t handle your own silly accusation, breaking down in giggles.

“Don’t worry, darlin’, this old dog is all bark no bite.” His smile looked sincere, kind laughter leaving his wet lips and he gave you a wink.

“You’re not that old,” your voice dragged the words out like you wanted to convince yourself more than him. You felt hot all over and you weren’t sure if it was the result of the wine you drank.

“You’re too kind, sweetheart, no need to spare my feelings. My prime is long behind the horizon.”

“No, you’re actually very handsome,” you didn’t lie, anyone with a good working set of eyes would see his attractiveness, and you had two weeks to cement it in your brain. “You have a very nice smile, and your hands,” your eyes dropped on the table where a giant fist was curled around his fork. “A lot of women appreciate a good set of hands.”

“Learned to work with them pretty well, too.” Joel nodded and smirked. “Leaking faucets, clogged drainage. Can fix it all.”

In your mind that phrase sounded naughtier than you were sure the man intended it to, and you reprimanded yourself, feeling a different kind of heat rise from your belly. With one swift movement you’ve emptied what was left in your glass of wine, forgetting about your need to somehow get home after dinner. Joel only poured some more in your glass, smiling softly.

He learned the dance moves long ago. Pretty birds like you were comfortably predictable, and even though you oozed a different kind of odor, he knew exactly what to say. He watched you sip your wine with ease, his own glass barely touched on the table.

When the last piece of salad was cleaned off your plate, you felt a pleasant fullness in your belly. Your head was heavy in a sleepy kind of way, and you looked around, trying to find something to hold your attention on. Your eyes skimmed the living room, from where you were sitting you could see an old couch, in some spots it was now more beige than brown, its big cushions looked soft and the blue quilt draped over the back of it was calling your name.

There was a guitar leaning against one of the armrests and you moved your eyes back at Joel who was silently studying you.

“You play that?” You blindly pointed your thumb towards the strategically placed instrument and Joel curtly nodded.

“I pluck the strings, sometimes something bearable comes out.” He joked, the apples of his cheeks saturated with color and you reached your hand to take his

and gently squeezed it. Joel’s skin turned out to be warm and dry, the sensation of giving him such an innocent touch tingled on your fingertips.

“I noticed you tend to undersell yourself. Would you play something for me?” You didn’t want to leave yet, and your empty plate didn’t really leave you a reason to stay. You tilted your head to the right and gave Joel a sweet smile, hoping he’d succumb to your charm. He didn’t wait long before returning the soft gesture. Slowly, he got off his seat. His figure loomed above you for a quiet moment before he outstretched his palm.

“I’d never be able to refuse you,” he admitted. Your hand drowned in his and he tugged you up. You almost crushed into his broad chest, but to your own dismay he took a step back. Your insides throbbed, the smell of his cologne mixed with his own odor awoke every single receptor on your skin.

“Do you like old stuff?”

“I’m still here,” you quipped and shrugged your shoulders innocently. Joel stopped, making sure you saw him roll his eyes in fake annoyance. He couldn’t contain the breathy laugh, though, so you knew he got your joke.

You moved towards the couch, while Joel walked a step behind you, enjoying the view of your ass in a skin tight dress. The outline of your thongs was visible to him, and he smiled to himself, maybe you weren’t as innocent as you pretended to be. Joel bit the inside of his cheek to refrain from any comments.

His hand hugged the neck of the guitar confidently, while you made yourself comfortable on the couch.

“I think I know just the thing.”

Your eyes never left his fingers as he started to hum an unfamiliar melody.

His voice lulled you in, deep vibrations as he plucked the strings reverberated in your chest. You felt so warm inside, the heat that was pooling in the depth of your belly rose and touched your chest, neck, the tips of your fingers. The dress clung to your skin unpleasantly and for a moment you wished you could take it off. Was it so wrong?

Your eyes traced Joel’s face, the sharp angle of his nose, the tip of it twitching as he sang gently. His lips caressed the words with a tenderness of a lover and you wondered when was the last time they did the same to a woman. Your thighs tightened as your body already knew something your mind only danced around. You shifted in your seat, moving closer to Joel, letting your knees touch.His eyes found yours, a question burning in his browns. You shrugged your shoulders and gave him a small smile, he smiled back. The melody continued, his warm timbre embracing the words.

Maybe tomorrow, honey, Some place down the line, I’ll wake up older So much older, mama, I’ll wake up older, and I’ll just stop all my trying

Your fingers drew patterns on your dress, nails picking at the seam with nervousness. The fire in the center of you gave you confidence to follow through, and your hand ended up on Joel’s knee, slowly moving up until your pinky touched the wood of his guitar. The melody didn’t falter, but his voice did.

“Whatcha doin’, sweetheart?”

“It is a date, isn’t it?” The shreds of your confidence only allowed you to squeeze his thigh with a hint, yet your eyes looked anywhere but his face.

“You shouldn’t do something like that to an old man like me, will break my heart when you leave,” he sounded so painfully sad, it made your heart ache as bad as your pussy. You looked him in the eye then, god, he was so handsome.

“What if I don’t leave?” You challenged him like a mouse challenging a lion. Joel shook his head, his hand gripping the guitar’s neck viciously.

“Stop playing with me, darlin’.”

“What if I’m not playing?”

You expected another sad plea, another crack in his voice. But instead, he put his guitar to the side and spread his legs wider than before. “Then prove it.” He husked out. “Prove that you know what you’re doing.”

There was no mistake in what he meant. His voice added a new depth into it, eyes glowed with something dark. Passion, you thought. Need. The one that was pushing you to your knees at that same moment. The one that numbed your skin when your bones hit the hardwood floor between his spread thighs. The one that guided your hands to his zipper before you could even steal a kiss off his tantalizing lips.

He was hot underneath his clothes, his skin was burning like he had a fever and you were almost too impatient to be gentle. Joel lifted his hips just enough to help you tug his jeans down, his grey cotton boxers followed. He watched you intently, and you watched his half-hard cock lay heavily on his full balls. They were hanging low, their size intimidating. But no more intimidating than the main course.

You weren’t offended that he wasn’t fully hard yet, still, Joel took you by the chin and made you look at him. “Sorry, darlin’, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve seen in a long time, but at my age, it’s just not enough anymore.”

You nodded, your mouth flooding with saliva at the thought of him growing under your tongue. He was thick, veiny, more veiny than the dicks you’d seen

before so you thought it was an age thing, however the vines surrounding his shaft only made you whimper harder, thighs squelching with your arousal.

You leaned forward, inhaling full lungs of him. It was heady, strong, and made you dizzier than all the wine you drank. You reached your hand out with the intent of touching his cock, but Joel stopped you.

“Touch yourself.” For the first time you heard something dark in his melody. Commanding.

“What?” You were confused. Did he want you to just play with yourself? Because you were on the verge of bursting if he didn’t let you get closer to his cock.

“Put your little hand in your panties and slick it up with all the sweet juices that have been leaking out of you since the moment you saw me, darlin’.” Your mouth fell open, hand following his order under Joel’s dominant gaze. “Then you can wrap it around my dick, and prove to me that you really want this.”

It was so easy to just do what he said, without questioning the moral, the consequences. Your hand was wet with your arousal, pussy begging to keep it

there, to give some attention to your clit, but your mind was set on the man before you.

He hissed when you wrapped your slick hand around his shaft and started jerking it slowly, feeling the girth of him thrum with growing desire. You looked at his cock, entranced. His shaft was shining with your own juices, a pink head became deeper in color as more blood rushed to his cock. You swiped your thumb over it, a tiny drop of precum glistening in his slit.

“You’re doin’ such a good job, angel.” Joel’s hoarse voice was almost a whisper. You felt the steam coming from him, it made you sweat, your breath hitching. “Why don’t you put that mouth to use, hm, darlin’? You speak awful lot with it.”

It almost made you giggle, a plan forming in your head. Instead of letting his cock in the scorching wetness of your mouth, your head dropped lower. You

stuck your tongue out, lathering his heavy balls in your saliva. They were fuzzy, like a ripe peach, and you massaged them with the wet muscle.

“Fuck, ain’t nothing angelic about you, huh?” Joel’s voice was barely recognizable, hungry and low it vibrated in your pussy. You opened your mouth wider, sucking his balls in turn. “That’s right, making me feel so good, sucking on my balls like that. Come on, baby, use your tongue.”

You tried to alternate between licking and sucking on his ballsack, your spit drooling over your chin while you were panting like a rabid dog. The only thing that mocked your ladylikeness was your goddamn dress, and it was almost drenched in your own slick at this point.

“Good girl, sucking on my balls like it’s what you came here for. Came here to make an old man cum? What a perverted little girl you are, sweetheart.” Your pussy tingled with your praise. The mouth on him made your head spin, like a newfound drug that affected only you he seeped under your skin making you pant and moan as you continued pleasuring him. Your hand jerked his thick cock in tandem with your mouth on his balls. Joel’s eyes never left you, as he continued praising you. “Mmhm, that’s good, drench ‘em, fuck you’re a dirty one.”

You felt his hand at the back of your head as it pressed you harder into him, your nose was forced into his perineum and he almost humped your face with his groin. Your tongue hung out, and he managed to slide his balls across it before it almost went too low. The tip of your tongue almost touching his puckered hole covered in more hair.

“Not today,” you heard him grumble before tugging you up. “Come on, darlin’, don’t make me waste a load.” He pushed on your cheeks with his hand, feeding you his cock in one movement. It was a lot to take, your teeth barely scraping his shaft, and you used your tongue to protect the underside. “Take it all, come on, darlin’, you’re the one who wanted it.”

Intoxication and arousal didn’t mix well, as you just moaned pathetically around him, letting him deeper in your throat. It bulged with the sheer size of his dick, you felt it, uncomfortable, but you couldn’t move, your body too heavy and tired. Instead, your hands found his wet balls, already tight and ready to blow every drop of cum he’d been saving for you. You tried to fit them in your hand, gently tugging at his sack to stimulate him further.

“Ready, sweetheart? I better not see you waste a drop.” His hips bucked, and your nose was pressed into the soft tuft of his grey pubes. Joel pressed your head into him harder as his hot load trickled down your throat. You tried to breathe through your nose, the lack of oxygen blackening your vision.

He pulled out seconds before you were ready to pass out.

“Gotta tap my leg or somethin’, sugar. I don’t need you dying with my cock still in your throat.” You chuckled, not sure why. Joel placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip, slippery with your saliva. His whisper sounded gentle, “God, you’re a mess. Beautiful.”

You didn’t trust your throat to work, so instead, you tried to get up on your trembling legs. Your pussy still screamed for release, so wet you could feel your arousal escaping your thongs and dripping down your leg. You hiked the skirt of your dress up, not an ounce of shame inside, and straddled Joel.

“Whoa, darlin’, slow down,” his hands dropped to your hips, keeping you in place. Your brows furrowed. He didn’t look like a man who’d let a lady down. “Why don’t we change our location?”

You didn’t get an opportunity to look around, your feet scrambling as he tugged you into a dark room. His pants were up, but undone, and you lost your heels somewhere along the way, your dress still hiked up like a common whore.

Everything was spinning, so when he dropped on the bed at first you thought he fell. His voice was navigating you through the darkness, but you could barely concentrate on it.

“Come here, angel, let this old man take care of your pretty pussy.” Joel smacked his lips, and guided you to climb on top of him, legs on each side of his body until your pussy hovered over his face.

“Panties,” you whimpered and heard an immediate crack of fabric ripping.

“Sorry, darlin’, can’t make you wait any longer,” his face pressed into the side of your thigh, sticky with your own juices, and you whimpered pathetically at the texture of his scruff scratching your sensitive skin. “Smell so good, fresh, like a new doll.”

You couldn’t understand what he meant, you didn’t even try to. When his lips latched onto your clit, your head tilted back and you let out a loud moan. Joel only moaned back, the sound penetrating your pussy alongside his tongue.

His hands gripped your asscheeks painfully, forcing you to grind on his face. His tongue slipped in your wet hole, and you felt yourself shaking on top of him, your legs giving out as he kept fucking you with his tongue.

Joel growled in your skin, making you crawl to your orgasm faster and faster with every swipe of his tongue.

The tip of his nose kept hitting your sensitive clit, as he pushed his tongue further and further in your fluttering hole. He kissed his way up, pinching your clit between his tightly clasped lips and sucked, punching a cry out of you with his raw vigor.

“Come on, sugar,” he commanded, “I feel her cryin’, give her what she wants.”

With doubled passion he flickered his tongue over your throbbing bud, and you felt sweat trickling down your neck and soaking into your dress as an orgasm rushed over you.

Your body felt powerless, and if not for Joel’s strong hands still holding you up, you’d have fallen back. But he kept you somewhat steady, lapping up all that your wasted body could give him until every swipe of his tongue started being painful and you had physically push his face away with trembling hands.

“Got too enthusiastic, my bad. Ain’t every day I get to drink from a fountain of youth.” Joel joked, helping you settle next to him in his bed.

Your tired body was half laying on top of him, fully drained yet still unexplainably insatiable. Forced by something deep in the pit of your belly, you dragged your nails over his soft stomach until you touched his soft cock again. Joel quickly stopped you, grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand to his chest. You felt the sparse hairs on his nipple tickle your palm. His heartbeat was hard, but steady.

“Sorry, angel, ain’t that young anymore.” He said, kissing the crown of your head. His fingers found their way into your hair and he tugged at it gently. “If you want me to fuck that pretty hole of yours, you’ll just have to agree to a second date.”

Your words were slurred, eyelids too heavy to keep them open. “Maybe I will, old man.”

He chuckled, the grip of his fingers in your hair tightened as he looked in the distance. A couple of flickering street lamps visible from his window were providing minimum light in his room and a possessive smile creeped onto his lips as he listened to you snoring lightly into his chest.

You weren't the first mouse to get trapped so easily, but something told him you were special. He wasn't ready to discard you just yet.

LEAVE A COMMENT, YOUR FEEDBACK IS MY MOTIVATION <3

#catfish!joel #iamasaddie fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #dark fic #ppcu fanfiction #tlou fic

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sttoru · 1 year ago

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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. boothill spending a nice, sunny day on the ranch with his family !

tags. pre-cyborg!boothill x wife!female reader. fluff, one tiny hint of angst. sfw. daughter is adopted. based on boothill’s lore. reader gets called ‘mama/momma’. i shed a tear writing this

“aye, yer getting good, kiddo.” boothill grins as he humors his daughter. he’s sitting on a patch of grass underneath an old tree, with his little girl sitting on his lap. his stetson hat lays low on his head, a piece of straw grass between his teeth.

days like these are the reason why he cherishes life. peaceful days where his wife and kid are the only ones surrounding him. home is where he belongs; with his daughter playing the tiny guitar he made her from scratch.

well—more like she’s beating it up.

“dada! dada!” she squeals as she harshly pats the strings, creating an unsatisfactory sound that would make anyone in the vicinity cringe. though, to boothill the sound is a sign of life. of his beloved child being carefree and happy.

the cowboy runs his fingers through the girl’s locks, admiring the little bundle of joy that’s been bestowed upon him. ever since he took her in, life’s been nothing but joyful. “adorable, ain’t ya?” boothill mumbles to no one in particular.

a warm breeze lifts his bangs ever so slightly, revealing those unique eyes of his. they’re filled with nothing but admiration for his daughter. perhaps also a hint of bittersweet warmth.

she’s growing up so fast.

“honey, dinner’s ready!” your voice makes both boothill and the child look up. boothill’s signature smirk only widens the moment you come out of the main house, wiping your hands off with your apron. you look stunning underneath the orange-ish sky. you’re also a reminder of how good boothill has it.

boothill nods and squeezes his daughter’s cheeks, gaining a small giggle at the touch. the calluses on his hands are a contrast to her smooth skin. the chubbiness in her cheeks is absolutely adorable to the white and black-haired man.

“oh, ya hear that? y’r momma made us some food,” boothill pokes the girl’s sides, which makes her laugh again. his favorite sound. she abandons her guitar and stands up, her legs still somewhat wobbly. she had only recently learnt how to walk on her own after all.

“mama!” the kid repeats, reaching her tiny hands out to your figure in the distance. you smile at the sight and crouch down, spreading your arms as you encourage her to walk towards you.

you nod and let out a small chuckle, “hi, baby! c’mon— come to mama!”

your daughter gasps and tries to find her balance before she sets another step. boothill watches her with a fond smile, his hands ready to catch her if she were to fall. though, there doesn’t seem to be any need for those precautions.

she waddles over to you in no time. her little gasps and pants as she tries to run melt the cowboy’s heart. he gets up and walks behind the tiny girl, a sudden mischievous grin on his face.

“heh,” boothill chuckles before acting like he’s going to run after her and catch her if she doesn’t run away from him, “better run before i catch ya!”

the child takes the light-hearted threat seriously and squeals at the sight of her father figure ‘running’ after her. her legs take her towards you as fast as they can, working overtime to reach the other side of the ranch, “waaaaaah!”

you laugh at the sight of your husband chasing after the little girl. he’s good with children—to your utter surprise. before boothill came home with the abandoned baby, you didn’t know if he’d have the skills to care for children. he is blunt, straightforward and rough in some ways.

however, your worries were soon to be proven wrong. it’s like boothill’s destined to be a girl dad. that’s how well he can get along with your adoptive daughter. it was difficult for him at first, but with some trial and error, he’s turned into a great father figure.

“got’cha!” boothill exclaims as he scoops the small child up in his arms the second she got close to you. he tickles her sides and she squirms—giggling like she’s never done before.

“nooooo!” she tries to protest between laughs, but it seems to be an impossible task. her little legs kick wildly in boothill’s embrace, but he doesn’t let up. he puts her over his shoulder and wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“the food smells good, babe,” boothill whispers and kisses the top of your head. the smell of your delicious cooking makes his mouth water. he pinches your cheek and flashes you that charming grin of his not a second later, “bet it tastes fuckin’ amazing too.”

“language, honey,” you roll your eyes playfully and slap boothill’s bicep as a reminder. he simply shrugs and laughs menacingly.

you walk back with him into the house, one hand of his resting on your waist, whilst the other secures your (still squealing) daughter on his shoulder.

the sun setting gives the sky beautiful colors. orange, purple, yellow and a bit of red. it adds to the beauty of this moment—a family of three living happily ever after on their ranch—with nothing or no one to ruin their lives.

or so they thought.

#sttoru writes.#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #boothill x you #boothill x y/n #hsr fluff #hsr imagines #sorry guys i had to make it angsty somehow

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eternally-racing · 9 months ago

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can i have this dance? | lando norris

pairing: lando x wife!reader (and their teenage daughter!)

genre: fluff

wc: 2k

summary: When your daughter goes on her very first date, it's time for you and Lando to accept that your little girl is growing up - especially when a familiar face shows up at your door.

this can be read as a standalone fic or part of the racer girl series!

---

“I’m going to need to have a stern talking with him when he gets here, you know.” Lando stands in the doorway of your daughter’s bedroom as he watches her double check her makeup in the mirror for what feels like the 20th time.

All Lando can think about is how fast his little girl Piper is growing up as she looks so grown up getting ready for her first date.

“It’s not even a real date, he just asked me out to prom” is what Piper said as she tried to break the news to you both gently. She knew that you wouldn’t be a problem, that you enjoyed hearing about all the dating drama that had been going on in her class. In fact, she had come to you first for advice on how to tell Lando about it, but you would never admit that to him. The two of you girls had a bit of a master plan to break it to him - it started with cooking Lando’s favorite meal for him, watching your favorite movie with him together as a family, and then finally breaking the news gently over dinner.

Lando chokes on his food slightly when the topic comes up, trying to chalk it up to the spice you’ve put in the pasta even though you and your daughter can see right through the lie. He simply nods at the dinner table and doesn’t say another word on the topic - instead choosing to shift to discussing some upcoming vacation plans.

While his blatant lack of reaction was a pleasant surprise to Piper, you knew there was something else under the surface.

“That’s what I was waiting for” quickly spills out of your mouth once you see Lando start pacing around your bedroom when you’re getting ready for bed.

“Can you believe this? She’s dating now?” Lando exclaims with his hands in the air. The British man is pacing back and forth as he keeps muttering under his breath in disbelief.

You, on the other hand, are the complete opposite. You’re starfished out on your bed, Kindle in hand as you look like the epitome of being relaxed. It was actually a stark change for you to be the one that’s so calm and collected, and it was usually Lando who had the job of trying to comfort you.

“It’s prom - it’s normal that she has a prom date! Hell, you were my prom date.” you exclaim.

“True, but I’m me - and she won’t even tell me who this guy is. What if he’s one of those kids that just been repeating high school over and over again so he’s actually just in his 20s and super creepy.”

“First off, no, he’s a regular high schooler, I promise you that. I actually think you’d like the kid.”

Lando looks at you with an air of suspicions as his eyes narrow and he stops in his tracks. “Wait, how do you know who it is?”

The guilty look permeates on your face as Lando keeps pressing you for answers. He’s made it from being across the room to now being chest to chest with you in seconds, prodding you in the side for answers. He’s relentless as usual, as you give into his charms all too easily.

“Okay, okay. I don’t know anything for sure so I don’t want to give you false information which is why I didn’t say anything. But me and some of the PTA moms were talking and we have our theories.”

It’s no surprise Lando finds your answer unsatisfactory as he begs for you to tell him more.

“Nope! My lips are sealed” you say with the gesture. “Prom is literally in just a couple of weeks, Lan. You’ll find out soon enough.”

- - - – - - - -

Those weeks fly by and before you know it the special day is here. Lando has been on the quieter side all day, but your house stays as noisy as always as Piper’s excitement fills the place.

The knock on the door is gentle but you can still hear it from upstairs in Piper’s bedroom. You’re helping your daughter with the finishing touches on her hair and are about to walk away to answer when you hear that Lando has beaten you to the chase. Piper’s eyes widen along with yours when you both start to regret your decision to not camp out by the door to soften the blow.

There’s an audible gasp from your husband as you hear him open the door.

“Samuel Sainz?” Lando stands in disbelief in the doorway as the words fall out of his mouth.

The younger boy is a spitting image of his father. He’s clutching what looks like a bouquet of handpicked flowers in his shaking hands as he looks up at your husband. He was only a couple months older than your own daughter, having grown up just a few doors down from your family when you all used to live in Monaco. There weren't that many schools to choose from when they were younger, so naturally you had come to see Samuel and his parents quite often throughout the year. It was of course only helped by the fact that both of their dads were best friends.

“It is good to see you, Mr. Norris. I’m just here to pick up Y/N, if that’s okay?”

It’s an adorable sight really - even from the top step of the stairs you can tell how nervous the boy is by the way that he uncomfortably shifts his weight between both legs. You wince knowing that him phrasing it as a question is giving Lando the opportunity to launch into his “protective dad” talk, which you had heard more than a couple of times from him in the shower over the last week.

“Why don’t we grab a seat and chat before Piper comes down, Samuel?” Lando sounds extra official as he guides the younger boy to your couch.

As you watch from the top of the stairs, you can see Lando put on his intense stare as he leans forward to intimidate the younger boy.

“So, what are your intentions with my little girl, Samuel?”

Samuel has an equally fiery glint in his eye as he says something along the lines of “my dad warned me this was going to happen”, before launching into his eloquent answer about how he wants to take Piper to prom and make sure she has a great night and that he’ll make sure that she’s safe and home on time.

It’s not enough for Lando, you’re not sure anyone ever will be, as he continues to dissect every single word that comes out of the younger boy’s mouth. You can’t bear to watch the scene in front of you any longer as you cut to say that Piper is almost done getting ready so Samuel could wait by the base of the stairs for her. The younger boy gives you a look that you know means “thank you” as he bolts off the couch at the first opportunity to do so.

Lando’s poker face facade falls once he sees his daughter at the top of the stairs. That’s his little girl all grown up - and for a moment he forgets about all his worries for the evening. He catches your gaze at the top of the stairs and can instantly spot the similar look of pride on your face.

“Dad, don’t get too emotional on me now.” Piper jokes as she gives her dad a hug once she makes her way down to the main floor..

Now that she’s getting older, special moments like this are more and more treasured by both of them.

Lando knows that it’s just for the rest of the evening, but Lando feels his heart starting to squeeze in his chest as he watches Samuel and Piper talk to each other. You’re right by his side as you rub comforting circles onto his back.

“Not a minute later than curfew, young man, remember that.” Lando sticks to his stern demeanor as you roll your eyes. He really is the grumpy to your sunshine in this moment as you drape an arm around his shoulders.

“What he means to say is have fun, you two.” you smile as you take one last picture of the two of them before sending them on their way.

Piper mouths a “thank you” to you as your grip on Lando’s wrist stops him from following the two kids out to the car.

—-

Less than 15 minutes later, luckily once the shock has started to wear off of Lando, there’s another knock on the door.

“Well if it isn’t the devil himself.” Lando mutters as he comes face to face with his old teammate and his wife.

“Before you give me that look, just know that I only found out about this today. Turns out our wives are the true masterminds scheming in the background with our kids now.” Carlos mutters.

You and Rebecca are trying to hide your smiles as you lazily hide behind the excuse that you both needed something to talk to each other about while the men were away at their 6am tee times.

Carlos holds up a larger than life bottle of wine from his collection for the four of you to share.

“Figured you could use some of this tonight too, yknow, to cope with the fact that our kids are probably at second base with each other by now.”

“They’re having sex?!” Lando looks like he’s actually going to pass out as he grabs your hand in fear. You and Rebecca will laugh over this on your own time later, but for now you comfortingly rub Lando on the back while Carlos also tries to calm Lando down from his spiral by pouring a heavy helping of wine into a glass for him.

The night from then on actually stays pretty uneventful. There’s a couple of rounds of board games played while you order some takeout for you all from your favorite Italian place.

“I think I see some gray hairs in there, mate, you’re getting old.” Carlos tugs at Lando’s curls to try and find one to pull out. For a minute the two of them argue like little kids, almost finding themselves in a full cat fight while you lean back and watch it all happen.

“It’s a Friday night and we’re playing Catan and drinking fancy wine while we wait for our kids to get back from a school dance, Carlos - safe to say we’re not in the days of closing down the club and buying everyone free tequila shots.” Lando muses

“AND some of these hairs are brand new thanks to your son, mate, don’t forget that.” Lando rolls his eyes as he quips back at the Spanish man.

The Sainz make sure to leave before their son can come back, as you all had come to the conclusion to stay out of your kid’s romance as much as possible. With the promise to hang out again under less surprising circumstances, Carlos and Rebecca give you both one last hug before they’re out the door.

In less than the time it takes for you to finish clearing away your takeout boxes, you hear Samuel’s car pull up in the driveway one minute before curfew. You know that of course, because Lando is waiting by the front door with a timer on his phone.

There’s a ghost of Piper’s lipstick on Samuel’s cheek when he walks her back to the front door, but you opt to say nothing to Lando.

He’s instead focused on how happy his daughter looks - he can feel the giddy feeling radiating off of Piper as she has a little pep in her step going up the stairs.

“Oh my god she’s in love.” Lando says in awe as he stares at the now empty staircase.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Lan. It was just prom.” you chuckle as you go back to clearing away empty dishes from your dining table.

“No, I’m sure.”

“That sure?”. Lando’s certainty makes you feel extra puzzled as you pause at the dining table.

“Seriously, I’m sure Y/N.”

You walk towards him and interlace your fingers with his as you rest your head into his chest.

“What makes you so sure Lando?”

Lando gives you a sweet smile before kissing you on the forehead.

“Because that’s exactly how I looked when I came home from my first date with you.”

------

author's note: it has been far too long since i've posted something, so i hope you all liked this piece! Until next time! - Em 🩷

#formula 1 #lando norris #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 fic #ln4 #mclaren formula 1 #lando norris one shot #lando norris imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff #formula one #Lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic

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dottowos · 2 months ago

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denique meus es tu.

synopsis: Prime Dottore and the other segments happen to be away from the lab, and Omega sees it as an opportunity to get closer to you… in a way that hasn’t been explored yet.

includes: dottore w/ fem! reader

notes: All of Omega’s pining has finally come to this. Basically just Omega needing you really bad, oral (reader receiving), reader uses no pronouns. I guess now that I reread this, it’s more plot than actual smut but it’s self-indulgent for me so it’s fine. Can be read as a sort of follow-up to this. (Why do I write so much Omega, you ask? Because I have a huge freaking bias, I miss him so much, the cutie deserves love, I’m not sorry.) Minors DNI.

A fine and exceedingly rare opportunity had landed in Omega’s hands. Even the segment was surprised once it came to fruition.

Indeed, all of his other selves had departed the shared lab for a period of time, each for their own reasons. (Save for the child segment, but he didn’t care about him.) Even Prime had not been exempt from this - it had something to do with the Tsaritsa’s orders - but that wasn’t the point Omega was concerned about.

It meant that he would be alone with you. It meant that he would have you all to himself. That was extraordinary news for a selfish segment such as himself. His time with you always ended up being intruded on by the other scholars, much to his annoyance. But this time, that wouldn’t happen.

And oh, it was as enjoyable as he had predicted, to have your pure and unwavering attention. Naturally, he still had work to take care of, but that didn’t stop you from coming over to bother him anyway. Truly, the segment always loved that cheeky attitude of yours and your attempts to tease him.

This was one such moment.

Skillfully, you had moved all of his paperwork and other items to the edges of his desk, stacking them up carefully (although some threatened to fall down), and leaving a clear, empty space for you to sit down, waiting with a pout on your face.

“Omega, you took so long to return. I was getting so bored without you,” you huffed, although only roughly ten minutes or so had passed since he left. The segment’s lip quirked up in a smile.

“Is that so? It seems that you kept yourself quite busy, however.” Omega cast his gaze upon his newly decorated desk. Well, it was fine. He needed to clean it up soon anyway.

“I had to find somewhere comfortable to sit. This is your office, and yet there’s hardly any proper furniture in here. You need to… remodel or something,” you grumbled, which was actually a fairly valid complaint. His office had the standard large desk and chair, but the rest of it was filled with cabinets, bookshelves, and the like. It was a far cry from Pantalone’s, for example, who always had a comfy couch in his workspace.

“Then, I suppose my seat is unsatisfactory? It does make sense that you would prefer my lap, though,” the scholar weaved in his teasing like it was as easy as breathing, but you decided to ignore his remark and the heat creeping up your neck altogether.

“R-Regardless, you’re wrong and right- but! That’s not the point! The point is that this is my plan to get you to stop working for a bit and pay attention to me,” you triumphantly declared as you crossed your arms, all while Omega was fascinated with your little scheme.

“Oh? Well, do tell. My attention is certainly now all yours,” the Harbinger strolled to you in no hurry. These few days of peace with you were bound to fly by quickly, there was no harm in entertaining you instead of his duties for a little while.

“See, if I sat on your chair, you would still continue working on your feet like all the other times. But now that I’m hogging your desk and holding your work hostage, I’ll just stay here until you agree. In fact, I’m so generous that I propose that we make your favorite sweet treat together.” You laid out your genius plan and smiled as if you were expecting him to concede in that moment.

“… You are aware that I could simply move you from that spot?”

“Well, yes, but… I’ll fight you if you try. But really, you won’t say no to sweets, right? I know you like them! … Also, I hid all of your pens anyway, so if you want them back, you’ll have to satisfy me, or- eep!” You were interrupted midway as two large hands gripped your waist and lifted you into the air with ease. Omega retained his composed smile as you looked down at him with your mouth ajar, feet hovering above the floor.

You were always very much aware of how strong the doctor was, but the way Omega so easily lifted you made your cunt throb with need. You knew it was probably wrong, fantasizing about how effortlessly he’d manhandle you onto his cock, seeing as you only did those sort of things with Dottore, but you couldn’t help it.

You had to force yourself to snap out of that sudden daze before you realized that the segment was now looking at you silently. He had probably said something witty, and you were just staring at him dumbly instead.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes!” Your voice came out higher than you expected, and you knew that the segment had clued into your sudden change. “Just let me down,” you fumbled in his grip, hoping to make an excuse to quickly flee the scene. Your hands wandered down to his own, where they held you, attempting to pry them off your body, but to no avail. Ah, his hands… unfortunately, they only served to send a few more thoughts into your head. Thick, long fingers that were lovely but hidden by those gloves of his… alright, this was getting out of hand.

Ever the observant man, Omega had easily noticed how your previous playful demeanor had turned shy. For what reason? He was unsure, but would find out, as he placed you back on his desk. You let out a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived, as now you were conscious of how close the segment was to you, the beak of his mask nearly touching your nose.

“In the span of a minute or so, you went from cocky to deflated. Would you care to explain, or shall I pry it out of you?” Unfortunately for you, you were very much aware of how persistent Omega could be when he wanted something.

“I just wasn’t expecting that. It caught me off guard.”

“You’re not lying,” Omega noted, “but not telling me the full thing, are you?” You pursed your lips and shuffled under his gaze, his body weight leaving no room for escape. Truthfully, you didn’t know how to get out of this, your mind too fuzzy to think of any good excuse.

“I… really can’t tell you… things would get… awkward,” your voice lowered in pitch the more you spoke as you mumbled out the words.

“How so?” Your shoulders sagged as his questioning was relentless. He had you cornered. Alright, it was time to stay quiet. Perhaps he would do his little guessing game, and you’d pretend like he got it right. After all, there was no way he’d guess you were thinking of him fucking you.

Omega continued to peer at you. He had a guess. It was only a guess, a hopeful one at that, but it was an educated guess. It had been a long time since he’d known you, and he patiently bided his time for this moment. Of course, he’d never rush you into anything, as that would be far from enjoyable, but now, he thinks, now is the perfect chance.

A single finger traced your neck and up your jaw experimentally, watching as you let out a soft gasp.

“I believe I’ve guessed as to what’s been on your mind,” he says, which makes your heart leap to your throat.

“Oh really?”

“Indeed.” Omega pulls away from you, which briefly confuses you, but that quickly disappears and is replaced by shock when the segment casually drops to his knees in front of you, hands tentatively placed on your thighs. You probably would have accidentally kicked him were you not entranced by the sight in front of you.

“I imagine you were thinking something similar to this. Am I correct?” The way Omega spoke as if this was normal made you spew out words frantically.

“What are you doing!” Your words came out more as an exclamation rather than a question, and yet you didn’t make an effort to move. Omega’s grip was gentle, meaning you could easily stop this if you wanted to, but a part of you didn’t want it to stop.

“You didn’t immediately deny it,” he hummed. “And you’re not resisting. But that isn’t a confirmation to my question either,” the scholar continued to probe at you.

His actions made it harder for you to ignore the growing feeling between your legs. Burying your face in your hands, you let out a small, embarrassed whine, to which the segment didn’t seem to mind, now stroking your thigh almost soothingly. Omega hadn’t exactly planned for the conversation to take this route, but now that it was going this way, he was going to take control of it.

“I can assure you that whatever you were thinking of, I have already thought of before,” he offers in an attempt to make you feel better, which seems to work as you peek an eye out.

“Really?” You begin hopefully, before you’re hit with another thought that makes you droop. “But why?”

Your question makes the segment pause for once. He found it intriguing that you could be cute even while you were dense.

“Why have you thought about me in such a way?”

“Well… because I love you a lot and you’re very attractive…?” Your words died out as he proceeded to hook one of your legs over his shoulder.

“We’re in agreement then. I, too, feel the same,” Omega says it far more confidently than you, pressing kisses to your leg in idle worship. Your heart starts to thud even faster at what was about to happen before something very important crosses your mind.

“Dottore- Prime-, he’s going to-” You don’t even know how you would face him after being fucked by one of his segments. But more importantly, you wondered what Omega would even say, though the scholar doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest, more focused on the treat in front of him.

“Prime already knew this would happen. He made us. He knows how we think. And we are him, in some capacity. In fact, I would say he’s surprised it’s taken this long. But no one would dare make the first move,” Omega toyed with the band of your pants, all while keeping his gaze on you.

“May I?” You blink slowly at your lover, before nodding in agreement.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m positive. I’ve been waiting a long time for you, darling,” you don’t have the time to respond before he exposes your clothed cunt. You’re quite embarrassed by the way he pauses to examine your wetness, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“You’re already wet. Now I’m even more curious as to what fantasies you’ve thought of. That’s rather lewd of you, isn’t it?” Omega teases as he moves a finger to brush against your sensitive spot, relishing in your soft moan. He was aware of the hypocrisy of that statement, but you didn’t seem interested in calling him out on it, already gently grinding against his digit. However, as patient as he usually was, he was admittedly in a hurry to see your pretty pussy, and he reaches for your underwear to pull it down completely.

“Wait,” you murmur, and the segment obediently stops. Gently, you reach for his mask and pull it off him, revealing his singular, gleaming eye. “That’s better,” you smile at the sight of his full face and motion for him to go on. Omega does his best to ignore the brief caress of your soft palm, only pulling you closer to him.

At long last, the Harbinger pulls the fabric down, baring your damp hole to him. He hears the hitch of your breath and even how your heart rate has increased greatly, which only serves to make him more eager. He hardly noticed the strain in his own pants in the face of the moment he’s been longing for.

“Relax,” he advises, seeing as you were still a bit nervous, rubbing a gloved finger against your entrance before slipping some of it in. Your reaction is immediate, back arching, and hand cupping your mouth to prevent any odd noises. Omega would let that slide for now, seeing as you’d probably be too overwhelmed to keep that up. He pressed on, pushing his finger deeper inside you as you squeezed around him.

“So good for me, aren’t you?” The scholar praises you before pulling out, which leaves you feeling empty for a brief moment. But he quickly fills you up again with two fingers this time, pumping them in and out of you with ease. At this point, you’re just hoping no one has a report to deliver to his office, seeing as your moans are too much to hide and you’ve started to babble.

“It’s been so long,” you say to no one in particular. “It feels so g-good.” Omega keeps his eye trained on you the whole time, watching your flustered expression. The passing comment makes him wonder about the extent to which Prime Dottore has been neglecting your needs. But he would always take care of you, now that you’ve granted him permission.

Pulling out again, Omega takes a second to taste the essence gathered on his fingers, but not too much. He’d rather taste you properly, pulling you so close to him you were worried you’d fall off the desk at this point. However, any remaining thoughts that didn’t consist of your partner quickly dissipate as he busies himself between your legs.

You’re unsure of how his tongue managed to be so good despite this being his first time, but you can’t be bothered to care as he easily drags moan after moan out of you. Surprisingly, he doesn’t care to be quiet either, making the gushing of your cunt known to both of you.

Your hands made their way to his fluffy hair, gripping it tightly and only pushing him further into you, spurring him on more. Omega’s own hands were now firmly clinging to your thighs, and you were sure he’d leave the crescents of his fingertips in your skin from how hard he gripped you. If anything, you had a feeling he was holding back. A part of you was pleased with his consideration, but you wished to see his deeper thoughts.

The segment, on the other hand, was immersed in the difference between his previous thoughts and reality. Of course, the real thing was usually better than whatever one’s mind could come up with, but it was exceedingly so regarding you. Sucking at your cunt and the feeling of your juices running down his lip only for him to quickly catch it was something he’d savor until next time - because there was no way he’d be satisfied with just one round. No, he had already planned it out, having you writhe in his grip for as long as you could take it, preferably on a more comfortable surface.

Regardless, Omega could tell you were close. The time for him to no longer have to imagine how your lovely face would look when coming…

“Don’t hold back,” he demanded, knowing of your tendency to do so. To be honest, he wasn’t even sure if you heard him properly. Your mind seemed a bit too far gone, which was not a bad thing, of course. But he wondered what you were thinking. Surely, you were enjoying his performance and pleasure. Surely you would return for more… perhaps you’d even choose him over Prime one day…

It was in that longing instance that you finally released, and the segment wasted no time gathering your cum on his tongue, despite your cries of sensitivity. You were simply exquisite, using his fingers to scoop up whatever his tongue could not. You watched on with bleary eyes as he treated you like a divine specimen that couldn’t be wasted.

“You were excellent,” Omega’s the first to speak coherently, aside from your panting. Standing up straight, his tall frame is all you can see in front of you. You part your lips to respond but realize you need just a bit more time before you can speak properly. Your lover notices this and patiently waits for you to recover, stroking your cheek comfortingly. You shiver at the sensation of his gloved fingers, damp from your juices and his tongue.

You wonder what you could possibly say after such an encounter. It felt so damn good, and you ached for his cock, but the whole situation still had you completely flustered. Especially in the face of his glowing red eye, still scrutinizing you in hopes of your opinion.

“Omega, I-” your words are suddenly interrupted by a knock on one of the doors to Omega’s office, which knocks the breath out of you.

“My Lord? I come with a report regarding our latest findings,” the voice of an agent sounds unsuspecting and calm, unaware of the very unprofessional situation currently unfolding in the Harbinger’s office. But the presence of another person so close makes your jaw drop, and before the segment could send the agent away, you’re already fixing your clothes and practically shoving past your partner to escape through another set of doors. Maybe this distraction wasn’t so bad, actually. It would give you time to collect your thoughts and prepare yourself for looking the segment in the eye next time.

Omega was caught off guard at your sudden movement and could only watch as you fled his office in embarrassment, nearly calling out your name before the agent spoke again.

“My Lord? Are you there?” The scholar clicked his tongue in annoyance. He was curious about what you were going to say…

Not to mention, his other pressing issue was quite literally the noticeable hardness that he was left to deal with. But if he was being honest, the outcome of today’s experiments was far more than he anticipated. After all this time and patience, he had finally gotten closer to you, and there was still plenty of time before his other selves returned. Being the calculating man he was, he was not worried.

The Harbinger takes a seat at his desk, ignoring the feeling between his legs. He would get this meeting over with quickly before he relieved himself.

Perhaps next time, you’d be willing to wrap your sweet lips around his cock…

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #dottore smut #il dottore x reader #dottore #genshin dottore x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #dottore genshin #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers #genshin #genshin impact x you #divider by cafekitsune

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barleyo · 9 months ago

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Heiress.

Father! Sukuna X Daughter! Reader (smut)

A/N: i got this idea in the middle of the night and i had to write it. the thought of it gave me so many damn ideas, a lot of which i couldn't include in this particular work!! obviously i don't condone what is written. obviously ^_^

Tags: incest (father-daughter), misogyny/sexism, heian era sukuna, p in v, creampie, breeding

Wordcount: 1.7k

!!! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT/DARK CONTENT !!!

Sukuna may have been a very, very proud man, but he was no fool. He knew that eventually both his name and power would need to be passed down. An heir, he would need. A suitable, strong, merciless heir to take his place. The strategist he was, he decided to start sooner rather than later.

He had the finest women taken from the surrounding villages. Vetted for imperfections, all of them. Those who were not up to his scathing standards were promptly discarded. Those who passed his tests, which were few, were used as his concubines.

Women from far and wide were gathered. He would call them into his private quarters, one after the other, every so often. It was a race, of sorts, to see who took first. One woman was lucky and fell pregnant quickly. The baby, however, was not so lucky and was never born. Another had successfully given birth, but the child had physical imperfections. Not suitable.

Damned women, he had often thought, with their cursed, weak bodies. What good were they to him? Residing on his land, getting fat off of his food, coaxing weak, unsatisfactory orgasms from him. Yet none could do him the justice— the service— he deserved of providing a successor?

Yet again, another whore of his fell pregnant. His hopes were never quite high, but he was less than optimistic this time around. For good reason, it seemed, for you were the product that came from your mother.

A female.

Bless the poor servant who delivered the baby. They were met with a cold, scornful face when Sukuna heard the news.

A female.

He scoffed, watching your mother hold you in her arms. The room reeked of tinny blood and afterbirth.

What good was a female? What would that leave him with? An heiress? The thought was laughable, though hardly humorous. A daughter. Pathetic. Leeching. A daughter could not carry forth her father's legacy. A daughter had no place in a strong lineage.

A daughter had no right to bear his name.

He felt betrayed that his seed could produce anything but a powerful, fierce warrior. Left with a delicate, shivering babe of the inferior sex, he fell into deep thought.

A female. What good could you be, indeed? You were born healthy. No defects or deformities. Your heart was in your chest. You had only two eyes and one nose, thankfully not some other ungodly combination.

"What shall we do with her?" a servant asked, kneeling beside your mother.

"Leave the child. Dispose of the woman. No use in keeping two of them around, is there?"

Weak as a woman may be, Sukuna would be damned if something usable didn't earn its keep. He would find something worthwhile about you.

You had cursed yourself many times for not being the son your father always wanted. It was glaringly obvious, he scolded you often for your gender.

"What am I to do with you, girl? Weakness is not something you got from me. Your whore mother must have—"

A constant degrading voice in your ear. Ever present was your father. You could never resent him for it. He was right, after all. His harshness did not take away from his truth. You were female. You were weak. Delicate. Gentle.

And in a stroke of good luck, beautiful.

There were times where you held value to your father. You rationalized that those times were why he kept you around.

You spoke well of him. You were a treat for an already conceited man's ego. You were subservient. No task asked of you was denied. Most importantly, you grew into your body well.

Sukuna hadn't much interest in you, wether positive or negative, until you had matured a bit. The birthday when you had received your first suggestion of curves was when you first remember him paying you any mind. He had asked you what you had wished for on your day. You said that you had everything you wanted. Your answer pleased him.

When you grew taller, he had less room to look down on you. The year you had grown a woman's face, his eyes started to linger onto your lips when you spoke.

When you hit full maturity, your year of eighteen, you felt a rush of what was as close to approval as you would ever get from your father.

"Your weakness dishonors me," had slowly changed into "your figure will fetch a decent husband." Slowly.

"The lord sends for you," Uraume said blankly, standing ramrod straight at your door.

Odd. Your father had never once sent for you. Even in his best of moods, he had no desire to see you more than necessary. In the home, you were akin to a piece of furniture. Not expected to move and used as pleased. Nobody sought out a sofa, it was a permanent fixture. Not thought of for longer than a few regarding seconds.

You passed Uraume with a stiff nod and padded down the cold, wooden floors below your feet. Your father, as usual, was in his quarters, silently looming.

"Father." A simple greeting. He was not one for niceties, you knew that well.

Sukuna shot his eyes over to you. Not bothering to turn his head, he let his eyes trail you. He examined you like a microbe under a scope.

He finally spoke. "Woman."

He had taken to calling you that recently. You weren't quite yet a woman, yet not a girl either. You were teetering two lines precariously, and he decided to push you over to one side. Not one for indecisiveness, either.

"Yes, father?"

"You are no heir of mine," he said. "You are not fit to succeed me. Ever. The family name should sooner die with me than travel to the incapable hand of a female."

You braced yourself for another deep-cutting spiel of how you would never take over in his place. Of how a woman's job was to submit. Of how your very birth was a disappointment.

"However, I do find a certain value in you. You will prove yourself to me, indeed."

"How?"

Sukuna rose to his full height, straightening his back as he glided towards you. He yanked at the outer sash of his robe.

"What other womb more better suited to give me the perfect heir," he started, silk sliding down his arms as he discarded the kimono that had draped his form, "than that I sired myself?"

"I have planned this out for a long time," Sukuna said, pushing your legs to your chest. "I have no doubt that this will be fruitful."

You had hoped the same. If you could not be what your father wanted, would giving him the solution not be the next best thing? Truly, you were relieved that he had found purpose for you. Perhaps this would save you from marriage to an unbecoming man of lesser means and power than your father. Perhaps this was a saving call being made.

You had listened to many attempts made by your father to bring about a son. The concubines were tired, certainly, of the nonstop, pointless breeding. The walls were only so thick, and your father was never quiet.

They weren't getting any younger— the women. Their youth had faded, right along with their chances of children. Young women were hard to come by nowadays.

Just another downside of the sex, your father would likely say, they've got a clear expiration date.

"Quiet now. The pain will fade."

The stretch of his cock would be uncomfortable enough, naturally, but the first time brought about a special type of stretch. A virgin cunt being broken in. An old wive's tale said that a young girl was the most fertile during her first go-about. Something about the blood from a punctured hymen carrying seed upwards.

To you, it felt as though the blood slicked you up more. Maybe the old wives knew a thing or two. Red smeared over your inner thighs, but the way it coated your walls helped you hold the weight of Sukuna's cock. An equal trade off, for the most part.

"I was right to keep you," he continued, slotting himself into you with measured strokes. "I knew that eventually I'd find use for you. Look at you."

Look at yourself, you did. Your surroundings, your bloodied legs. Where you and Sukuna met, somewhere in the middle. Connected by thin, gooey ropes of slick and crimson.

It didn't feel nearly as clinical as you knew it did for the other women. The thought stirred a bit of pride in your chest. Father tried with you. Other women seemed to be pump and dump. And rough. Though "gentle" was not a word you would use to describe what was happening, it surely was not anywhere close to "rough." There was a touch of passion. What felt like love. Father had even kissed you once, twice. His lips were chapped and he bit yours, but not hard enough for blood to peek through.

You tried for another, with great success. You leaned your head forward, eyes glazed with tears, and pressed your lips against his. From pleasure and pain, you surmised. A fair mixture, since Sukuna seemed to hit spots you couldn't place your finger one, and since the pinch of your hole accommodating his size was still stinging.

"I have raised such a greedy thing," he mused, huffing a breath through his nose as he complied and gave you another kiss, this time with tongue, as you had silently demanded with your own weak tongue trying to force his mouth open.

"Oh, gods," you groaned in a hushed tone.

You felt a coil snap in your body, and suddenly the heat of a thousand suns crashed through you, starting at your melted brain, and leaking down to your cunt. Whatever essence that managed to slip from the suction you had around Sukuna's length soon mixed with his own cum.

Milkiness dripped down, a visual confirmation of a successful mating attempt. Sukuna's head tilted back triumphantly. Now it would take, he knew it, and the results would be as he hoped.

"I do not know why I hadn't thought of this sooner," he said, keeping you plugged with his cockhead. "My seed belongs in only the purest of wombs. Yours."

#cw incest #tw: incest #jjk x reader #jjk smut #ddne #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #smutfic #dead dove fic

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revelboo · 7 months ago

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Your Soundwave and Starscream make my brain more happy than my antidepressants * - *

I like writing both of them and coming up with alternate takes for them

The idea for the first part popped into my head before bed and was still there in the morning, so I wrote it. But I keep thinking, what if Soundwave knew Shockwave before empurata, back when he was Senator Shockwave? Before they stripped the good parts away and left only the drive to preserve and protect Cybertron, before all the reasons he cared, every emotion but anger had been cut away along with his memories of why it was important to him. What if they were friends and that’s why Soundwave is so patient with his weird, unsettling behavior and anger issues?

Clumsy Heart Pt 2

IDW Shockwave x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• “I can dispose of this one and find another if they’re unsatisfactory,” he offers when Soundwave is silent, visor dim as he just stares at the human. Displeased with you. Reaching for you, Soundwave’s hand catches his wrist when the human tenses as if considering jumping even though they must realize they won’t survive the fall. Head turning back to Soundwave in question, he waits. “I can find another.”

• “No. Leave it.” You’re only a human, nothing he should care about, but that dispassionate offer to dispose of you doesn’t sit right with him. Knows it’s the lingering grief, but the fear in your eyes, in your mind pulls at him. Makes his spark ache. Releasing Shockwave, he lays the back of his hand on the surface. “Come.” Those wide eyes go from him to Shockwave and back. You’d just heard Shockwave mention disposing you, of course you’re scared of both of them now. And yet, you twist your little hands together and approach him. Stopping just shy of his servos. Looking up at him with wet eyes.

• Dispose, like you’re a bit of trash to throw away. Because the universe isn’t done screwing with you. Apparently catching your ex was just the warm up to this horror. Trying to study them both without angering them, you can feel your heart pounding inside your chest hard enough you wander if you might have a stroke and not actually have to worry about what the giant, robotic monsters want with you. Because that might be the kinder way to go if all the horror movies you’ve watched are any indication. Dissection? Maybe you’re food? A plaything to torment until they break you?

• That anxiety and fear is nearly crippling as Soundwave crooks a servo. Needs you to calm down, because right now he can’t think. Little face grim like you think you’re marching to your own death, you climb into his hand and sit down, shoulders tense. And it’s worse. So much worse when you lay your little palms against him, your wild emotions crashing through his defenses, flooding into him. Shuddering with your fear, head bowing, he’s aware of the ragged, tonal sound of pain he makes. That he’s drowning in you, unable to stop it. “Stop.” Pleading because he can’t shut you out, your terror needling his spark, slicing into him.

• That word sounds like a plea. Like he’s in pain. Something’s wrong. Soundwave trembling faintly as his head dips toward the human. Doesn’t understand what’s happening, but it seems plausible that it’s because of you. Reaching, he uses his cannon to rake you out of Soundwave’s palm, hearing your yelp as you land on your back and slide on the surface of the desk, immediately curling into a ball. And again Soundwave stops him from removing you, grabbing his arm. “Why?” He asks. You’re clearly somehow a threat, so why restrain him? Why not let him permanently remove you?

• Arms covering your head, you draw your legs up against yourself and wait for the next blow. Wonder if you can make it to the edge of the surface you’re trapped on before you’re caught. If you can jump and land so you don’t break something. Needing to believe there’s a way out of this. That you can survive them.

• Venting raggedly as he watches you peek at him, he wonders that himself. You hadn’t been trying to hurt him, your fear just too visceral. A living thing, all jagged edges that can cut him. A hand still on Shockwave’s arm, he reaches out a single servo. Rumbles softly at you, making that low, tonal hum he uses on his cassettes to soothe. Spark aching as you shiver, curling tighter into a ball. Because you’re not a cassette, you don’t understand he isn’t going to hurt you. Ghosting that servo over you, he keeps humming to you. Coaxing you even as it hurts him, his grief and loss tangling with your fear in a confusion of misery. Unable to stop crooning at you through the agony.

#transformers x reader #idw soundwave #soundwave x reader #shockwave x reader #idw shockwave

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osakanone · 1 year ago

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Crew attire cosplay?

Lately I've been thinking a lot about "what would separate mecha crew equipment from that of a tank crew, or a fighter crew": A lot of military surplus stuff is already really close to what we're going for, and I realized "Motorcycle boots look a lot more like mech pilot stuff than military boots do", which got me thinking what other odd equivalences exist.

The one which really surprised me was how famous mecha live action SF Gunhed used a wetsuit as a stand-in for "generic scifi bodysuit", and that it worked weirdly well, actually?

"Why not latex?"

Latex rips too easily in contact with straps and hard elements, overheats far, far too easily despite having the looks. Thin neoprene works. really well.

So I kept exploring.

One thing I did seriously debate is other than rappelling equipment, would a pilot need something like a rigid knee-brace for hard landings to protect the ACL when they disembark from the robot which is common with high impact parachute equipment.

Some varieties also include counter-weighted springs which make it harder for you to close your knee, but make lifting heavy things on your back and climb much much easier during the ascent phase.

That led me towards Deck Crew helmets, which meet the hood requirement, and of all things, chin wraps which are really unobstructive and you can eat and drink while wearing one pretty comfortably (I say this as someone currently stuck wearing one)

So what we're looking at here is the HGU-24 and HGU-25, often worn by deck crews because it gets along just fine with the famous MCU-2/P AKA "Millenium" mask famous with drone communities as they're designed to be worn together.

Its literally the exact same mask with a minor paint adjustment.

"What's the difference between a drone and a pilot?" "One wears AXENT and latex, the other wears HGU-25 and neoprene." "Anything else?" "Drones have less sex and do as they're told"

Its got the bash-plates you want for an ejector-seat, but it also has the padded foam you want for an impact element, and if it latches properly and the jaw mechanism is well made enough, you could probably include a hans mechanism attached to the jacket which locks into a socket in the pilot's seat to stop a pilot from breaking their neck in a collision.

What do you guys think?

Any suggestions? What I'm really curious about is what you think pilots would remove, customize or alter for practical or decorative purposes.

This is basically the result of roughly a year of casual research into pilot attire, outfits and looks.

The helm and the hood seem to be where the most manual cosplay stitching and 3D printing work is likely going to be required, with the wrap and helmhood.

Addendum:

I've not gone into waste management systems (UCL/FCL human-factors engineering stuff with internal and external recovery systems), since I'm looking at this mainly as an attainable costume or ensemble.

Edit:

I am learning some of you use aquatic mecha and find this unsatisfactory.

And you won't shut up about how the coolant mass flow rate lets you do really wild shit with your weapons my "land-loving" platform even can't dream of

While I am jealous by your sheer tonnage and the output of your reactors, I've got you covered.

Behold: Immersion suits.

They also make surprisingly good sleeping bags, even if you're on water.

They're literally designed to keep you alive if you're forced to abandon an oil platform, and are known to include a radio and even rations and a water filter.

#mechposting #mecha #mech pilot #mecha pilot

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milksnake-tea · 2 years ago

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❀ ˎˊ- prompt: how they are in a vampire au ❀ ˎˊ- characters: blade, dan heng, dan feng, march 7th, himeko, jingliu, jing yuan, kafka, luocha, sampo, caelus, stelle, yaoshi ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: lots of mentions of blood and wounds, the typical vampire stuff, talks about scents, usage of the word "feeding", intended lowercase, mentions of alcohol in kafka's part, caelus/stelle may be ooc :| ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: NEVER REALLY ANNOUNCED IT BUT YAHOO HERE U GO !!! THE WINNER OF THE POLL WAS VAMPIRES, SO LETS GO ITS BITING TIME HEHE <3 different format bc damn thats a lot of characters i dont have banners for... also first time writing them women so scratches head sorry if it's ooc teehee i tried

vampire!blade, whose bloodlust runs deeper than most. his desires drive him to the brink of insanity at the slightest whiff of blood, the former human despising the animalistic tendencies that now governed his existence. with his enemies, he is content to lick their blood from his face, finding no remorse in the blood of the dead. but when he dares to drink from you, he is gentle - cautious. always his eyes are watching your own, especially before he sinks his teeth into the crook of your neck. for blade is prone to losing himself in the taste of you, and he fears he may go too far.

vampire!dan heng, who despises his species more than any hunter out there. he longs for the normality and companionship of humanity, and often hides his vampiric traits in public as to masquerade as a human. the only time he'll satiate his desire for blood is when he's on death's door; and even then he'll only settle for blood bags at the dead of night, away from any of the eyes of his fellow trailblazers. when the time comes and you offer your blood to him, dan heng is reluctant, hesitant. never in his life has he fed on another, and you can feel his inexperience in how he cautiously sinks his fangs into your skin - opting to kiss your wrist rather than your neck, just in case he lost control.

vampire!dan feng, who will outright refuse blood that he deems to be unsatisfactory to his palate. even if his dietary needs are considered monstrous by other species, that doesn't mean that he himself needs to be barbaric. dan feng treats blood as he would wine - like a delicacy, only to be partaken on occasion. but all of that is thrown out the window once he tastes you for the first time. when dan feng drinks your blood, he does it with the tenderness of a lover. always, he keeps you against a comfortable surface such as a bed or a sofa as his lips latch onto your neck, taking his time as he savors you like a fine dish.

vampire!march 7th, who never really questioned why she needed to drink blood to survive, and always deemed it as normal. although, she doesn't really consider it cute, claiming that it "ruins her cute-girl aesthetic". as such, she won't talk about it unless you start the conversation first, preferring to disguise her blood intake in the juice boxes she keeps around. even when she does drink from you, it's in small sips, a mere nip before she's off to doing something more fun. don't take it personally, march just isn't fond of drinking from another person. she appreciates you offering, though!

vampire!himeko, whose taste is questionable, even for a vampire. for a second, you thought that her horrendous taste in coffee came from her background, but no, it's just himeko being himeko. unlike her other companions, himeko isn't ashamed of her needs. if she needs blood, she beckons you from across the parlor car, taking your arm in her hand as she gently bites your wrist. there's something playful in the way she drinks - she's gentle, yet doesn't treat you as though you're made of glass, a soft giggle leaving her lips as she licks the wound on your wrist.

vampire!jingliu, who makes sure you understand just what you're getting into when you offer your blood. it's hard enough to keep both her mara and her bloodlust at bay around you, and even harder to control herself when you're so willing to help her. time and time again she warns you, saying that she may not be able to control herself once she gets a taste. but if you're strong and brave enough to feed her despite the dangers, then brace yourself, for jingliu won't stop until she's fully satiated.

vampire!jing yuan, who loves to nip at your fingers playfully, flashing his fangs whenever he can. honestly, jing yuan's the type of person to forget he's a vampire until the time comes and he needs to feed - and even then, it's more of an inconvenience to him than anything else. but that won't stop him from messing with you, after all, he loves the disgruntled face you make whenever he pretends to snap at you. however, when jing yuan does drink from you, he prefers to take it from the back, hugging you from behind as he languidly drinks from your shoulder - making sure the process is as painless as possible.

vampire!kafka, who teases you when you first find out of her species. are you afraid of her now? how cute, but really, there's no need to be afraid. she wouldn't hurt you, not intentionally, at least. kafka can't help but laugh as you playfully hit her for her words. can you blame her, though, when your reactions are just that endearing? kafka isn't one to take blood directly from the source, instead, she prefers to drink it in a wine glass, mixed with some sort of alcohol to really amp up the effects. having both wine and blood in one drink can be quite intoxicating to a vampire, but kafka wouldn't be kafka if she were afraid of the after effects.

vampire!luocha, who becomes addicted to your blood the second he tastes it. over his lifetime, luocha has tasted the blood of many, each with their own flavors - ranging from savory to sweet to downright disgusting. but with you, the drinking of blood is less so a matter of feeding, but rather an intimate act between lovers. he is tender as his lips latch onto your neck, his arms wrapped around you and hands massaging you to ease you through the process. and through it all, his eyes forever hold your gaze as he tastes heaven once again.

vampire!caelus, whose inexperience often makes him dangerous. caelus doesn't know how to deal with his urges, nor does he understand why a hunger builds up within him whenever he sees an exposed patch of your skin. he's a sweet guy, no doubt about it, it's just that he doesn't know how to stop. it's up to you to guide him and tell him when to stop, for caelus is young, and doesn't understand the durability of the human body compared to a vampire. but he's willing to learn, even if it means driving off his own needs in favor of yours. the last thing he wants to do is to hurt you, after all.

vampire!stelle, who nuzzles up to you whenever she feels the slightest thirst for blood. like caelus, stelle has no idea what she's feeling nor how to deal with it. when she starts getting hungry, she becomes clingy - she starts hanging around you more, often staring at you and leaving you to wonder just what it is she wants. it's only when she starts tugging at your sleeve that you realize that she's hungry. when stelle drinks, it's... well, it's not as unhinged as caelus, but she still lacks the control as he does, and you have to tap her head to snap her out of it. but when she's done drinking, you can't help but coo at her adorable face, like a kitten full of soup.

vampire!yaoshi, who prefers to give their blood rather than drink it. they would hate to put anyone in danger, after all. but alas, their instincts won't disappear, even after their ascension to aeonhood. ironic, isn't it? the giver and sustainer of eternal life is also the same one who drains that life. when they feed from you, they prefer to have you in their arms as they do, your back pressed against their chest as they drink. they whisper sweet nothings each time they rise from your skin, their tongue licking at your wound to soothe you. but it never hurts when it's with yaoshi - perhaps it's the dew from yaoshi's trees that numbs you, or the poison in their tail. if anything, you feel as though you are in a hazy dream, not yet asleep, yet not quite awake either.

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mingtinys · 1 year ago

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lost for words

pairing : lee jihoon x gn!reader

fluff , drabble , ultimate simp jihoon

warnings : none

word count : 0.6 k

requested ? no

a/n : this is what i imagine it would sound like if woozi wrote his own "shall i compare thee to a summers day"

Jihoon is nothing short of talented. A maestro amongst artists and a musical prodigy to his peers.

He can pluck strings until they sing and make his fingertips fly across piano keys in a way that makes them melt together into a symphony. He can breathe life into a school child's recorder that could charm a brewing storm and he can fit together words like a jigsaw to reveal a lyrical masterpiece worthy of the Louvre. Trust, Jihoon has no qualms over his musical competence.

But how is it that he struggles to find any combination of words suitable to the occasion? Why now does his brain falter when it thinks of ways to encompass just how much he loves you? Not a dictionary in the world would be adequate enough to measure that of which he feels.

Because what he feels for you could not possibly be contained to ink on paper, you're much too special for something as archaic as that. Everything about you is so breathtaking. An enigma he's simply been blessed to experience in this lifetime. Jihoon could carve your likeness into crystal under the moonlight and it wouldn't be nearly as mesmerizing as the real thing.

Jihoon believes you outshine even the brightest stars against a jet-black sky. He'd choose the ones in your eyes to stare at for hours over the Milky Way in a heartbeat. Your voice sings a sweeter melody than Apollo's harp on a warm summer day. One he wishes he could capture and play on a loop for all of eternity. If all of history's greatest composers put their minds to one piece, still, they could not conduct a symphony worthy of your essence.

And, oh, how you call his name has him hearing bells. You light a fire inside him like flint dragged across steel— like a bow across strings. Your hand fits into his palm like the bout of a violin and he can't get enough of the harmony you bring to his life. Just your presence alone grounds him in ways he never knew possible.

When he kisses your lips, Jihoon can taste a song so decedent it leaves him full for days. Soft and delicate touches that crescendo into passion personified pluck at the strings of his heart in the late hours. The feeling of his arms around your waist as you sleep provides an indomitable security. Your even breaths fan against his collarbone like a lullaby, easing him to sleep. Then, when he wakes, you're still there, greeting him like a songbird.

You are his muse, his life, and everything more.

Jihoon understands now why so many of history's greatest ballads are written for lovers. Because the human language is a fickle thing. Always changing, never quite perfect, unsatisfactory in the eyes of man. Music lives on for centuries beyond their composers. It is, by all definitions of the word, immortal. There will always be someone to enjoy its tune and pass it down for years to come.

A song is but a time capsule of the memories that brought it to life. And Jihoon is not a man selfish enough to deny future generations of your beauty. He would write a song a day if it meant cementing your memory in history.

If only he could find the words.

"Are you ready?" Seungcheol's deep voice pierces through the thin silence.

"Not at all." Jihoon inhales as deeply as he can in his suit that feels one away thread from being too tight, then exhales slowly. The parchment with his vows crinkles and folds at the bend between his fingers.

The words in his palm are no soliloquy, but his heart bled them with every ounce of love he could muster through shaky hands. And the gold band on his finger is a gentle reminder he has a lifetime to spend writing ballads in your honor. There are only two words he needs to worry about right now.

I do.

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baeddel · 7 months ago

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tirade on pirating software. 1.7k words.

i recently read a post by someone who is anti-piracy (better: against making copies of software). they said that if you can't afford something you should wait for a sale or find a free alternative. and then they said that the only time that they find piracy (better: finding a copy online) acceptable is for games that are so old that you cannot buy them from a licensed vendor, but only from resellers, because in that case the developer doesn't get the money anyway.

i feel like i could make a sort of loophole argument in this framework, which is that i can watch ebay until the game is listed by a reseller, and then pirate it, because i'm no longer making a choice between paying the developer or not paying, but paying a reseller and not paying, and i've decided not paying a reseller is morally permissable.

but i think it can go a little further. they specified developer. i should pay the developer. even though i don't buy directly from the developer, but a licensed vendor. but the vendor's surcharge is not worth bringing up.

this is because we don't believe in following the law, exactly, and thus you should follow all copyright laws for that reason. it's because of, usually, one of two reasons: developers deserve to be compensated, or that we have a moral obligation to support the developer.

on the first view, the "just deserts argument", it's not clear to me that the moral obligation to not pirate is watertight in this case (when i said "pirate" before, i made a silly gesture, meant to indicate that i'll say that for brevity, but am not acquiescing). a developer deserves to be compensated for their work; but what do they deserve exactly?

does every developer deserve to become as rich from their game as Notch, and every time they don't there's been an injustice? you probably don't think that.

do they deserve some particular amount that we would say is 'fair'?—it isn't unjust if they do better (although you might think so, and complain about how much of the spotlight they take up compared to others just as deserving), but we only require that much success of them. this might be dependent on the kind of game that it is, for example, a better game deserves more success. if that's the case, then we've exonerated at least some pirates; so long as the developer is as successful on the market as they deserve to be, we've done nothing wrong.

you might say that it's wrong to pirate games that haven't yet reached the threshold of just success, because you place them in jeoprady of never achieving the success they deserve. further, you might say that this threshold is epistemologically unknowable to human beings (see: click), and therefore in practice you can never justify piracy, because you never know if a game has reached the threshold of justice. pirates, therefore, gamble with justice, and only Minos will pay their winnings.

i think this would be a good argument, except that i don't understand why i, as someone who wants to download a copy of the game, am the one who bears the moral responsibility. if the success of this developer is a matter of justice, then surely we all bear that responsibility, even people who don't play videogames. therefore we should all purchase and promote every game, and so forth.

this isn't what any anti-piracy advocate believes, even if they seem to take a deserts line. instead they restrict our obligations to participating in ordinary market mechanisms. the game is being sold as a commodity; therefore people should buy that commodity from a point of sale apporved by the producer, and so forth. it's taken for granted that the anarchy of the market is the right way to guarantee justice, and other possibilities are never explored. ultimately, the deserts argument naturalizes capitalist relations. once you remove these blinders, the mechanism for delivering justice it actually proposes seems obviously unreliable and unsatisfactory (in fact, i believe this criticism applies to all deserts arguments).

here i will quickly add my complaint against the second argument, that we should support the developer. the argument runs: if you like a developer, you should support their work by purchasing their products. i am a lot more sympathetic to this argument and so i won't spend much of the post attacking it. it's enough to say that it suffers from the same problem we just mentioned: why is participating in ordinary market mechanisms the best way to support the developer? capitalism is likewise naturalized by this case when it is advanced as a moral argument against piracy. therefore we can run the same argument: if we have a moral obligation to support game developers, then it's not clear to me why only potential players have that obligation, and so forth (but this time the criticism doesn't apply to all similar arguments, just this one).

however, it often isn't advanced that way, and as a pragmatic argument i tend to agree with it. in fact sometimes they actually have a case for participating in normal market mechanisms: DMC fans want you to buy DMC games because then Capcom will look at their sales figures and decide it's worth making another game. you could argue that they still have capitalist blinkers on because they only advocate you buy one copy, the one you'll play, which is how the game is sold. maybe they should be asking you to buy a hundred copies or whatever. but we don't want them to do that, LOL. and the feeling is usually that there are limits of what you can ask out of someone; when one DMC youtuber was spending quadruple digits on a DMC-themed gacha, his viewers expressed concern and encouraged him to stop. so cheers to DMC players.

in fact, there might be ethical reasons to only ask someone to purchase a copy of something in the normal way: when i try to get you to buy one of Xraftstar / Charity / Porpentine's games, i am doing it because i personally want my friend to succeed, and i want to see their art recognized. this is a kind of moral motivation, but it's the morality of rendering personal obligations; you are not likewise obligated. however, i of course feel there are limits on what i can ask of you, and so, unlike when i make donation posts for my friends who are struggling, i'm only comfortable encouraging you to purchase a copy of something i think will actually render a use-value to you (even if you could still obtain it in other ways and get the same use-value).

but anyway, why specify the developer in the first place? the work put in by the publisher, the developers and maintainers of the platform its sold on, the bandwidth of the payment processor, and so forth, all get left out of the question, even though they are all more or less necessary parts of the normal market mechanisms we're encouraging you to participate in.

i think it's obvious that the anti-piracy advocate of this kind doesn't actually want to advocate for participation in the market economy, like Bush during the recession. they want to be just by the developer because they see the developer as a fellow individual like themselves; they actually want to cut through the market alienation and simply do right by another person. therefore all of the other capitalists who make money off the sale—publisher, platform, payment processor—are just more big companies, perhaps even leeches we'd be better off without.

it's funny, because historically this view was used to support piracy when it came to music. you used to see a lot of charts like this:

how much of a CD goes to the label, manufacturers and distributors, to show how little really goes to an artist, to shut down people who said you should buy the CD to support them. there's a sort of naive anarchism underlying this: i want to help the individual who made the music i love, who needs manufacturers and distributors anyway?

in this kind of simple moral reasoning, resellers really get shafted. they're seen as scalpers, taking money without producing any value. no one says: 'make sure to support resellers!' thus we never ask who the individual behind all of the market alienation the resller is. whoever they are they don't deserve the money. then, when you are poor and struggling, and cannot afford to buy things for yourself, what do people tell you to do? sell your games, CDs...

but i don't want to be too sarcastic here, because there is nothing funny about this impulse to reach through market alienation and connect morally with another individual. it is the essence of emancipation. but hear my argument: purchasing commodities from them is an unsatisfactory way to realize it. it's true that you can certainly help someone by buying what they sell; many of us rely on this to a greater or lesser extent, and, pragmatically, i hope we'll all buy Nadia Nova's next game and put food in her belly. but systematically, not in this or that case, but as a general moral principle, the commodity form, the exchange of cash for things or copies of things—this is the very thing that reproduces these conditions of alienation in the first place. and these relations—their predictability as a feature of the market, or even their scarcity as a part of a volatile and impermanent system—is what habitually places the developer in a condition of alienation from their labour, coaxing them to give up their so-called intellectual "property", then forbidding them from using the games they made; or by seducing them into placing their music on a platform, then offering them increasingly small margins and less control; or to post their content (qua sex workers) on a paywall platform, which then imposes complex payout structures to keep them from claiming their earnings. and so forth. the desire to reach through all of the noise and support the individual is inevitably captured, redirected, and fed upon in as many ways as it can be, until the whole thing crashes down and the cycle starts again.

therefore, should you purchase or pirate the next game you want to play? Remember Ptahhotep: "The noble who sitteth before food divideth it as his soul moveth him; he giveth unto him that he would favour."

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aspenous · 2 months ago

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anytime someone depicts Sae as uninterested/disgusted by Ryusui's flirtations an angel looses their wings

I want to put my argument into words and the tags wouldn't do it justice so here goes (some of this is obvious points but I wanna hammer it in the best I can)

To begin with, you need to understand how much Sae does not gaf about what others think of/expect from him. He (from everything we've seen) doesn't bother corporating with media or managment and does what he wants.

He puts effort into what interests him and does what he wants to get his hands on it. The whole reason he even stayed in Japan was because of the Blue Lock Project.

So consider this; he gets asked to play in the u-20 match. This is against blue lock, a project that's already (to some extent) peaked his interest, but upon finding the u-20 strikers unsatisfactory his first thought–and condition to play in the u-20 match AT ALL–is to play with Shidou.

Shidou, who at this point hadn't been able to spark ANY kind of chemical reaction with the others players. Which means that Sae was banking all this on the potential of Shidou being the kind of striker he wants to play with.

And then, upon his agreements being met, TRAVELS TO wherever the hell Shidou is locked up at to pick him up himself. Why not wait where he was and have Shidou brought too him? Wouldn't it be more convenient and less of a hassle? 🤔 Why did he need to be there unless he wanted to see Shidou as soon as possible.

MIND YOU, Shidou had no idea who tf this man was, meanwhile Sae has already bet his entire involvment in the u-20 Match on being able to play with him.

The fact that during the u-20 match, he was prepared to leave until Aiku conceded and let Shidou sub in. That for all Shidou's freaky ass comments and flirts, Sae matched him beat for beat. Gave him an ultimatum and weirdly enough, even when Shidou couldn't score the hat trick, he conceded to Shidou's excuse and STILL gave him his number.

Im still stuck on their after match chat like; Sae is very consistent with keeping to his word. Refusing to Participate in the u-20 match, getting ready to leave halfway into the match itself. Again, he doesn't care what others think and sticks to his own beliefs, interests and rules. So why now, does he let Shidou loop hole his way into their agreement about his phone number?? He could've very easily said something along the lines of 'it doesn't matter if you never scored' or SOMETHING but nope he accepts Shidou's excuse of the potential last goal and agrees to give him his number.

Meanwhile Shidou's interest in Sae only blossoms when their on-field chemistry shines through. Therefore Sae fell first and Shidou fell harder okay thanks bye

#Ryusae #saeryu #itoshi sae #shidou ryuusei #blue lock sae #blue lock shidou #blue lock #bllk #itoshi sae x shidou ryusui #please Im sick of Sae being depicted as disgusted by Shidou's advancements #just cause u find it freaky doesn't mean he does #man took one look at that ass and bet everything on it

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shorthaltsjester · 5 months ago

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coming off the high of finishing the draft of the last of my exegetical/theory heavy chapters of my thesis and while i was writing i was thinking a lot about why applying real world political philosophies to exandria specifically tends to fall flat and like. even beyond the explicit treatment of things like homophobia as nonexistent and hegemony functioning wildly differently if it really actually exists in exandria as we conceptualize it in our actual world really boils down to the works that make up a lot of the roots of the leftist theory people apply to exandria. like obviously marx is a big guy, nietzsche has more influence than you’d think given his reputation as the internets (poorly interpreted) sad boy, and less people probably know the names of the critical theorists that came out of the frankfurt school but you’d know their ideas — and they all have their toes in countless leftist ideas today, whether their influence is explicit or not. what’s notable in all those theorists is something found in the argumentative and background work that they provide before the claims most people on the internet know re: the workers of the world uniting, god’s being dead, and the culture industry, whether in their previous work or just earlier in the same books that people have read the goodreads quotes of: first principles.

if you’re unfamiliar with the term, it’s just a philosophy word for basic proposition that cannot be deduced from a previous claim. And for a whole lot of works in the history of moral and political philosophy (as well as other less relevant branches), one of the most common first principles you could find was the proposition that god exists. so much of the work of philosophers who inform leftist theory has required them to do the work of either coming up with a different first principle and justifying it and/or providing justification for why first principles are in themselves a flawed notion. nietzsche was so impactful in his claim that god is dead because it targets the very notion that history and the philosophy in it was finding the proposition that god exists to be unsatisfactory if unsupported. marx then was only able to ground his historical materialism because that first principle re: god was able to be dismantled. critical theorists, like adorno for example, were only able to do their work in light of accepting that god is not something worth appealing to without justification. and the reason any of this is relevant to the fantasy world of a silly internet show where voice actors roll dice is because any leftist theory whose most foundational basis is the realization and gradual societal acceptance that the claim “god is real” could not be assumed but had to be given justification will always end up being unsatisfactory when it is applied to a world where “god is real” is not only factually true but is also societally accepted and the existence of those who might philosophize about the gods is a direct product of those gods’ existence.

this isn’t to say there can’t be insight granted by applying these theories anyway (looking at my blorbos and applying philosophical theories is my favourite hobby, just ask my thesis supervisor) nor is it to say that the risks of trying to apply these theories to exandria starts and ends with its failing to be philosophically apt — but there have been many great posts circulating re: the issues with viewing certain facets of exandria through an “it’s a colonialist metaphor” lens and many similar cases so i won’t dive in here. just pointing out that as a facet of the objective truth that can exist in a fictional world, especially a world established by gods (world here being a word that includes the existence of mortals), some of the foundational propositions of the philosophical arguments at work in those theories are rendered false in the exandrian context. but this also means that, if the gods leave exandria in some sense, i will have a very fun time unpacking a nietzschean interpretation of their absence. because i predict that though the gods will be dead/gone, his meaning of god being dead will Not be fulfilled since ostensibly the majority of exandria still looks to the gods in love and in doubt as providers of guidance, and i question how much their presence actually informs the depth of that dependence. anyway. that’s my philosophical enrichment for the night.

#a tumblr post can be a grad student applying their research interests (which are useful no where else) to the blorbo show #sometimes i think about the fact that the twilight movies made fun of studying philosophy and just suffer #because they were right and also if TWILIGHT makes fun of u. question your choices #regardless. thoughts be upon you. i mentioned sartrean bad faith in a bells hells post a little while ago #and that was me soft launching making rotted philosophy posts. as i finish more of my thesis i’ll hard launch more #now that my brain slowly becomes less and less Trapped #alas #critical role #exandria #exandrian pantheon #cr3

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jackoshadows · 2 months ago

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Once in a while I come across certain posts that really give us an insight into how certain stans think and it explains so much about this fandom.

Like the way a certain stan group gets triggered when Arya's canonical appearance is discussed.

Arya is canonically pretty.

Beauty is, of course, subjective - even for the characters in asoiaf. What Gendry finds pretty about a girl may not be the same for someone like Joffrey Baratheon. What Alys Karstark finds attractive about a boy may not be the same for Sansa Stark. What a Northerner may find attractive may not be the same for a southroner.

There are characters who mention that Arya is pretty.

“Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it. You remind me of her sometimes. You even look like her.” “Lyanna was beautiful,” Arya said, startled. Everybody said so. It was not a thing that was ever said of Arya. "She was,” Eddard Stark agreed, “beautiful, and willful, and dead before her time.” - Arya, AGoT (Eddard)

“I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns.” “Nice, though. A nice oak tree.” He stepped closer, and sniffed at her. “You even smell nice for a change.” Arya, ASOS (Gendry)

“I’m sorry I tore the acorn dress too. It was pretty.” “Yes, child. And so are you. Be brave.” Arya, ASOS (Lady Smallwood)

Lord Smallwood, she knew, remembering Acorn Hall so far away, and the lady who’d said she was pretty. Arya , ASOS

”Or would you sooner be a courtesan, and have songs sung of your beauty?“ - Arya, AFFC (Kindly Man)

“Wear this when you are here,” the priest said, “but know that you shall have little need of it for the present. On the morrow you will go to Izembaro to begin your first apprenticeship. Take what clothes you will from the vaults below. The city watch is looking for a certain ugly girl, known to frequent the Purple Harbor, so best you have a new face as well.” He cupped her chin, turned her head this way and that, nodded. “A pretty one this time, I think. As pretty as your own. Who are you, child?” “No one,” she replied. - The Ugly Little Girl, AFfC (Kindly Man)

She had never cared if she was pretty, even when she was stupid Arya Stark. Only her father had ever called her that. Him, and Jon Snow, sometimes. - The Blind Girl, ADwD (Jon Snow)

So we have, in canon, Ned Stark, Jon Snow, Gendry, Lady Smallwood and the Kindly Man call Arya or describe Arya as pretty or nice.

On the other hand we have a bully like Sansa who thinks only Southron girls like Margaery are beautiful and actively keeps wishing at every turn that others were her sisters instead of Arya.

Why couldn't Arya be sweet and delicate and kind, like Princess Myrcella? She would have liked a sister like that. - Sansa, AGoT

Sister. Sansa had once dreamt of having a sister like Margaery, beautiful and gentle, with all the world's graces at her command. Arya had been entirely unsatisfactory as sisters went. - Sansa, ASoS

Keep in mind that Sansa assumes Arya is a bastard because she looked 'common' like Jon and therefore Sansa would think of Jon as ugly as well. We have never seen other characters call Jon ugly either.

The sycophantic Septa Mordane is a terrible teacher and very clearly dislikes Arya. And then there is Catelyn having her own biases and wanting Arya to be a mini Sansa in order to be considered pretty.

In contrast we have both family members (Ned and Jon) and unbiased outsiders (Gendry, Lady Smallwood and the Kindly Man) who think that Arya is pretty. This is not something that's made up, it's not fanon, it's not headcanons, it's not speculations or assumptions.

Arya's appearance is important to the character and her story. In her very first chapter we read about her self-esteem issues and feeling as if not being able to fit in. Always compared to Sansa and found wanting. So much so that in the next book, she even doubts her mother's love for her. She's surprised when Ned compares her to Lyanna. Even as far as book 5, she is defensive about how she looks - the effects of being bullied about her appearance. And yet, in each part of her journey (WF, KL, Riverlands, Braavos), the author writes in a character who thinks she is pretty.

Arya is the classic 'Ugly Duckling' story of a swan amongst ducks, a Stark amongst Tullys (in terms of appearance) - Ned's only child to look like a Stark. Arya looks like Lyanna. She does not have the Tully auburn hair and blue eyes, no. Does not make Arya ugly, just different.

These Arya/Lyanna parallels interspersed throughtout the books are important as Arya makes her way back North. There are also parallels between the girls of the North - Arya, Lyanna Mormont, Wylla Manderly, Alys Karstark. These are deliberate parallels about a certain type of proactive young leaders in the North.

As Arya gets older and grows into her looks while progressing in her story, GRRM is also setting her up with marriage plots just like with Sansa. Catelyn arranges an alliance for her with a Frey bastard. Gendry falls for Arya and we have a bit of a romcom with these two. There's an entire subplot up North that revolves around 'Arya's' marriage with a Bolton bastard.

So why shouldn't book fans in general and specifically Arya fans discuss Arya's appearance? Why shouldn't they write fanfiction with pretty Arya? Draw fanart with pretty Arya? Call out the racism when certain stans who think that Arya is ugly draw or reblog art of the canonically white Arya in darker tones to highlight Sansa's white skin because she is beautiful? Call out the sexism when canonically petite Arya is drawn as a giant next to delicate, pretty Sansa?

99% of the time, discussions of Arya's appearance - like now - only happens in response to a triggered Sansa stan obsessed about 'beauty'.

But Nah. Apparently these are not the reasons.

Apparently Arya fans only discuss or talk of Arya being pretty "as a kind of f u to sansa".

Imagine the entitlement, the cope, the absolute brain worms, the hardcore stanning so much so that these stans can't even imagine Arya fans discussing anything about Arya unless it has something to do with Sansa!

Like look at this utterly nonsense post!

For these stans, their world revolves around Sansa so much so that they really think one cannot discuss Arya separate from Sansa and can't talk about Arya's journey and Arya's relationships unless it has to do with Sansa.

I mean, that's the way they think. That's why for them Arya is a forever side prop for Sansa and everything Arya should somehow revolve around Sansa.

That's why they go on and on about 'Sun and Moon' and 'Stark sisters' foreva' because they want Arya tied permanently to Sansa instead of Arya being the main character having her individual story of growth and leadership in asoiaf.

Imagine saying with your whole chest that an Arya fan discussing a canon aspect of Arya is actually just the fan saying 'fuck u' to Sansa...

The rest of everything in that post is also crazy in terms of the lack of self awareness. Stuff like this:

They don't see anything wrong in this? The fact that beauty is necessary to be an 'ideal' sister for Sansa is true but why are they so proud that Sansa is a superficial and shallow person who places more worth on appearance than the humanity of the person?

Isn't this what got Sansa in trouble in the first place because she trusted the likes of Cersei and Joffrey and then later Margaery because of their beauty?

If Sansa will only accept Arya as her sister if Arya is beautiful, what does that tell us about Sansa?

I have never seen ANYONE, not any of the Arya fans on here who discuss Arya and enjoy her character state that Sansa will be threatened by Arya's beauty.

Because WHY?! Why would that be important in the grand scheme of things for Arya? Why is that important in Arya's story of self love, gaining acceptance amongst her pack, knowing her own self worth, the relationships she forms with characters like Gendry or uniting once again with loved ones like Jon Snow and becoming a leader of the North.

Does anyone think that Arya will be celebrating that poor Jeyne Poole lost her nose to frost bite when they meet again? Or will Arya and Jeyne have more important things to talk about?

Arya fans - for whom Arya is their favorite asoiaf character - never come up with elaborate nonsense like this. For an actual Arya fan, Sansa is just one of many side characters in Arya's story and there are other more important characters - Jon, Bran, Nymeria, Daenerys, Gendry, Cat/LSH, Winterfell, Rickon etc. before we even come to Sansa.

It's the Sansa stans who loudly proclaim that they love Arya so much who get triggered by mentions of Arya being pretty and see it as a threat to Sansa's beauty.

There is no other fandom group in asoiaf so obsessed with beauty like Sansa stans. The entire thesis of the most popular Sansa ship - the Jonsa crackship - is that 10/11 year old Sansa is so beautiful, 14 year Jon simply can't resist her. He called her 'radiant' dammit!! SanSan is all about 'Beauty' and the Beast.

And this is why Sansa is such a self-insert for her fandom. When Arya fans discuss Arya's canon appearance, it's Sansa stans who feel threatened about the characteristic they love best about their fave and hence assume that Sansa will be threatened and then project that onto Arya fans.

It gives us insight into their mind. This is why they get triggered anytime Arya fans bring up that Arya is pretty. They really think that saying Arya is pretty is a fuck you to Sansa, because their mind simply cannot accept that Arya being pretty is ABOUT ARYA!

And finally it's funny that the so called 'neutral' bnf reblogged this with such tags as:

Are they talking about themselves and their fellow Sansa stans? Because the only people projecting these fantasies about Sansa being threatened by Arya's beauty are these Sansa stans themselves. No one else.

As an Arya fan the only thing I want from any Arya/Sansa reunion is genuine remorse from Sansa about how she treated her little sister, including siding with Joffrey against her, throwing Arya under the bus again and again and snitching Ned's plans to Cersei that got the girls trapped in KL. I want actual character growth and an apology from Sansa. Acknowledgement that she was wrong.

And that's about it. Who the eff cares about which sister is more beautiful and being jealous and all that - the kids have grown beyond all that. Sansa and Arya may love each other as sisters but are too different to get along or enjoy each other's company. They have their different paths and journeys and individual stories to deal with. And that's what fans should be discussing about.

Sansa stans need to stop getting triggered about mentions of Arya being canonically pretty in the series.

#Arya Stark #fandom wank

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