#i mean i wrote it for me and my friends but you can read it if you want to

[icarusredwings]

Just so you guys know someone responded to my fic once reminding me that I did not post the ending.

This is not rude because I DID write the ending, but I FORGOT to post it!!

SO I DID.

Let this be your reminder to ALWAYS leave a comment no matter how big how small or even just a smiley face!

I dont care if the fic is 15 years old, If I liked it, im commenting on it. If I didn't, I dont but I still leave kudos. Its only the respectful thing to do really.

Reminder that you are not owed ANYTHING so yes! Even the fics that you didn't entire like 100% deserve love!

People write content for YOU to read about YOUR favorite charaters for FREE in their SPARE time. Time they could be using to do something else and instead they decide to post and provide free content for you ungreatfuls to enjoy.

So please!! Enjoy!

"Ah man I wish there was more fics like this" THEN TELL THEM

"I really loved this fic but its 6 years old"

DONT CARE TELL THEM ANYWAY

My friend wrote fanfic all the time. Small little tidbits of their thoughts about dean x reader and such. Do I like dean x readers? No not exactly. He isn't my cup of tea romance wise, but I still liked and commented on ALL of their fics. Now that my friend has taken their life due to their abusive parents, i feel like commenting on their old work is the only way I can talk to them.

I found evidence suggesting that support from readers was one of the reasons they prolonged their life. Talking about how it made their week and feel cared about.

You never know how much a comment can mean to someone.

Before anyone asks I will not be giving out their fics because they'd constantly ask me to delete all their fics but I could never. They always said their writing was garbage but I disagree. So while I wont delete their legacy, I will try to keep it hushed to just their friends and supporters. And no, theres nothing I could have done, we were children an entire ocean apart. That is the harsh reality of long distance friends...

Fun Story to Share.

I got my (now 18-year-old) daughter into Ao3 back in 2021. I taught her she should always comment - even if the fic looks old or abandoned or whatever. She did.

Well - she got this email this morning:

The fic was written in 2014 and essentially abandoned.

Bethy read and reviewed in 2021 (and was actually the only person who had commented at all).

Today in 2025 - the final chapter was posted by the author and this was her reply to Bethy’s comment.

———

Never question whether a fic is too old to comment on.

[flowery-mess]

in vino veritas

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / slight smut / drinking alcohol / let me know if anything else should be taged

Words: 2k

frat boy Noah masterlist

„So you can chose from this list of presentation topics or you can think of your own, but you need to discuss it with me in that case. Everything clear? Any questions?” your professor then ended the lesson and you turned to face Molly and Clara.

“How are we gonna do this? There’s three of us.” Clara said, pointing between the three of you. You were just assigned new team project, team meaning two people.

“Ella can be with Noah, they can work on their project after their sex sessions.” Molly said, teasing you with playful smirk.

“Molly, fuck off.” you said with nice smile, showing her your middle finger.

“That’s not a bad idea actually.” Clara nodded along as the two of them looked like they just found cure for deadly disease.

“He has his buddies in this class, he’s not interested in doing school project with me.”

“One, two, three, four aaand five! Perfect!” Molly scanned the area where Noah and his friends sat, pretty happy with the number of them.

“Just text him, or one of us will end up with Anna again.”

“And you don’t want that for any of us!”

Anna was your classmate, short girl with long hair. Clara was paired up with her for another project and she said she’s rather have a bath full of spider than work with Anna again. She didn’t give you details, only that her dorm smells like sweat and that she told Clara she doesn’t take shower more than twice a week to save the planet.

“You’re the worst friends ever.” you ironically said when you pulled your phone out of your bag to text Noah.

“Any chance your friends ditched you for the project like mine?” you hit send and then turned your body so you could see Noah reach for his phone.

He read your text and chuckled before answering you.

“No, but I could ditch them for you.”

Before you could write your response he sent another message.

“Unless you want Trevor to be your partner.”

You looked up to see Noah looking back at you, his face without any emotion so you didn’t know if that Trevor message was just a joke or if he was serious.

“I don’t want Trevor to be my partner.” you sent your reply and before you could see his reaction, you turned back around to face your friends who were patiently waiting for your answer.

“Okay I’ll do it with Noah, but next time one of you will make the sacrifice.”

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

“Do you like any topic from the list?” Noah started the conversation when you two found a free table at the coffee shop in the campus.

“I haven’t read them all yet, do you like any of them?”

“I don’t really care about the topic, you can choose.”

“You sound like a perfect partner, let me see.” you opened the document with different topics and Noah sipped on his coffee. “Workplace diversity, Urbanization and its social impacts, Religion in moder communities, everything’s boring.”

You scrolled some more before something finally caught your eye. “This! Sociology of first impressions: expressions through appearance.” you pointed your finger in the middle of your screen where topic was written.

“Why this one?” Noah asked.

“Because I hate when people judge others based on their looks. I might get angry while doing this project.” you warned Noah, but that only got a chuckle out of him.

“Okay, sign us up for that one.” so you did write Noah Sebastian and Ella Thompson next to that topic so no one could steal it from you.

“Let’s make an outline and we can start on our own parts separately.”

You wrote down ideas and topics you wanted to talk about and when you finished your coffees you were pretty satisfied with the work you’ve done so far.

“How about we work on in at my place on Saturday?” Noah proposed when started packing your things.

“Oh, okay.” you said, surprised by his question. First, it meant that he planned on taking you back to his place on Friday and second, he wanted you to stay and not leave in the morning. But it was because of the project, you reminded yourself.

“Okay. Bye Ella.” he gave you quick salute and left the coffee shop.

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

Sitting on Noah’s couch on Saturday with schoolwork in front of you felt weird. Unnatural.

“So the introduction is done, we can change it as we go on with the rest. I was thinking we could do interview for the practical part of the project?” you looked up from your notes only to find Noah sitting on the floor with his head on the couch and eyes closed. “Noah!” you groaned and threw your pencil at him.

“What? I want to sleep.”

“This was your idea.” you reminded him.

He opened one eye to give the annoyed look, but he knew you were right. He was also a good student and wanted the project to be good, but he was also tired from the party last night and then your bedroom fun that lasted until 3AM.

“Okay. What did you say about the practical part?” he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sat straight. Sleepy Noah kinda looked cute, but you were sure he was gonna change into angry Noah after you’re gonna propose your ides to him.

“I was thinking about an interview with someone extraordinary.”

“Like?”

“Like, well, you.”

His eyebrows shot up at your proposition “Me? You think I’m extraordinary?”

You couldn’t name the look in his eyes, but it almost looked like it made him sad and surprised at the same time.

“I mean yeah, look at you. You’re what this project is about. Don’t tell me no one ever judged you based on your tattoos.”

He was quiet, confirming what you just said out loud. It was true, he was familiar with the judgement from others based solely on the tattoos that were covering most of his body.

“I don’t think that’s allowed when I’m working on the project.” His answer was short and firm.

He knew that if he’d agreed you’d ask questions like why he got this and that tattoo, the meaning behind them or at what age he started with them. And he didn’t want you to know that, his covered body meant all the obstacles he had to overcome and he didn’t like talking about his past. But you didn’t know that, so before you could shut your mouth the question slipped out.

“Why do you have desolate on your stomach Noah?”

“Stop asking questions Ella, I told you no.”

“It can be anonymous, no one has to know it’s about you.”

“I said no.”

“It can be just few questions, like 5 to 10?” you just couldn’t help yourself and stop your mouth.

“Leave.”

“What?” you looked at Noah, confused by his sudden reaction.

“I don’t feel like working on the project anymore. We can have coffee on Monday and continue.”

He looked hurt, and suddenly you felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

But he didn’t answer, instead he started packing your things to show you he was serious about wanting you leave.

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

You didn’t talk about his tattoos on Monday, you talked about the theoretical part of the project. Noah was giving you the cold shoulder, not talking more than he had to.

You couldn’t stop thinking about his reaction to your question about the desolate tattoo. You always wondered what his tattoos mean when you saw him naked, but you never asked. Or you just didn’t have a good excuse to do so.

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

The next Friday you were both more drunk that usual, blaming the beer pong competition for it. When you made it to Noah’s place and you started taking each other’s clothes off, your drunk mind couldn’t help itself.

You slid your hands down Noah’s naked chest and stopped at the desolate tattoo.

“What does it mean Noah?” you asked him in a whisper, your mouth on his.

“What?”

“Desolate. Why do you have it on your body?”

“Because I’m desolate.” he confessed, the lust from his eyes fading away.

“That’s not a nice thing to say about yourself.”

“It’s the truth tho.” he dipped his head in the crook of your neck and started kissing your sensitive skin.

And you pieced all the things you knew about Noah together. He was living alone, in this big ass apartment, he never mentioned visiting his family for the holidays or someone’s birthday. He doesn’t have any pictures of him and his family around the place and his mom never called him at 6 in the morning like yours did.

“What about your family?” he stopped his movements and you felt his muscles tense under your touch.

He pushed himself off of you and sat on his bed, his tatted back facing you. You heard him sigh and push his hair out of his face.

“Why do you care about my family?” he asked just above a whisper.

“I don’t know. You never talked about any family members, you live here alone and you just told me you are a desolate.”

“We said just sex, no feelings. I think that includes this too.”

“Well I’m too drunk so I probably won’t remember shit in the morning.” you lied. And you felt guilty about, but you wanted to get to know him better and the alcohol just gave you courage to continue.

The alcohol probably made him more emotional too, because he believed that you won’t remember what he said to you that night, but how could you.

“I don’t have any family. Parents left me with my grandparents when I was a kid. Haven’t seen my mom since then and I only see my father if he needs money from me. My grandparents died when I was 15 and since then it was just me. I was left with their house and money. I worked through high school so I could afford good college. Sold the house when I was 19 and bought this place. But I got no one Ella, I am desolate. Always have been.” his head was hanging low, his breath became uneven and he closed his eyes to picture his three year old self asking his grandmother when will mom come pick him up.

“Noah,” you didn’t know what to say to his story, you were feeling sorry for him, but you were sure that wasn’t something he wanted to hear. “You made something from yourself, your grandparents would be proud.”

When he didn’t answer you shifted on your knees and pressed yourself at his back.

Noah fell asleep in your arms that night and your view on him changed. He was the great example for your project, how the outside of someone doesn’t reflect his inside.

But in the morning you pretended like you didn’t remember anything he told you and couldn’t figure if he really did not remember sharing his secrets with you, or if he actually didn’t remember.

You finished the project and got almost full score from your professor.

Things between you and Noah stayed the same, neither of you going back to that night or hiss desolate tattoo.

But every time you got the chance, you made sure kiss those letter on his body to silently tell him he’s not a desolate.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Tag list: @lacy1986 @chey-h

Click here to get on my tag list

This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

[redcamellia13]

Mitsukou Analysis, Picture Perfect Part 1

Hello! I know, it’s been a while since I did one of these. Honestly though, I was kind of putting this analysis off, Picture Perfect is just such a beautiful arc, and I’m scared I won’t do Aidairo’s characters justice. Plus, it’s hella long.

I’m sure you’ve noticed the “Part 1” in the title. This is because I wrote this on a bus, and had very, very little time to make this analysis. I promise, I’m making Part 2 as fast as I can.

Now that that’s been settled, let’s do this!

Kou, do you realize how gay that sounds? Like, that’s not what straight guys say to their best friends. Jokes aside, we can see hints of Kou’s… jealousy? I don’t know what to call it. We can see Kou is not happy with idea Tsukasa can make Mitsuba’s wish come true.

Why? Because, say it with me people, Kou needs to be needed. Seriously, this aspect of his character is the reason of half of the things he does and says to Mitsuba.

So. We’re to the point Nene and Kou know this world is fake, and are attempting to get information out of Mitsuba so they have a better sense of their surroundings.

Why does Mitsuba listen to Nene and not Kou?

Actually, this puzzles me too. Seriously, anybody have ideas? Maybe it’s because Mitsuba saw everything that happened in the school, so he saw Nene’s shortened lifespan?

On that note, time to move onto one of the most critical scenes in MitsuKou’s arc.

Mitsuba says it himself. He saw everything. Does that mean he saw Kou crying over his “death”? I imagine it would have had a huge impact on his psychology. I’ll come back to this in Part 2.

In these panels, Mitsuba is referring to how he wants people to react when he calls out to them. He wants friends. It must be horrible, being a ghost, bound to the school, never able to communicate or make an impact.

Maybe Kou is special to him, and maybe it’s because of this. So, at this point in time, Mitsukou is not looking good. Like in a, “is this a healthy relationship?” aspect. Their entire relationship is built upon a, truthfully, unhealthy codependency.

Mitsuba needs to be seen, and Kou needs somebody to rely on him.

(Read right to left, I messed up the format and I’m too lazy to change it)

This interaction poses an interesting question. If Kou had to pick between Mitsuba (No. 3) or Original Mitsuba, which would he choose? I don’t think even Kou himself knows, look at his expression.

However, the look on his face could be described as regretful, so perhaps, the answer to this question would be Original Mitsuba. I think Mitsuba notices Kou’s appearance, and came to the same conclusion.

See, even Kou is doubting himself. My heart goes out to Mitsuba. Imagine meeting the only person who you regularly talk to, the closest thing to a friend you have. (I don’t think the Broadcasting Club counts.)

And you realize the only reason he likes you is because you have the same face and personality of a guy he liked. (No, not like liked.)

He is literally merely seeing the ghost of a friend in you.

Welp, I’m out of time, so see you in Part 2! (Oh my god, Part 2 is gonna be so. Much. Work.)

😭😭😭😭

[sporadicallyanenthusiast]

It's interesting, because I'm reading a Brazilian Portuguese translation and I've been finding some differences from the English one, which I suspect may be truer to the original Greek. For example, in Portuguese, Menelaus is described as a blond instead of a ginger, and Athena is described with green eyes instead of gray. So I think that's the reason there might be a misconception on my part, since in the scene when Menelaus tells Telemachus what he knows about Odysseus, he says Proteus told him so after Menelaus captured him, instead of it being a dream.

I mean, if it had been described as a dream, it'd be very understandable why he wouldn't say anything! That's not trustworthy information you just go sharing out of nowhere, indeed. But since it was a prophet God that told him that (in the book I'm reading, at least), I thought it was a bit jarring he didn't try to warn anyone, you know?

Especially after he told Telemachus he liked Odysseus so much, he'd empty the island of Ithaca and relocate all of its inhabitants to Laconia, make a whole new kingdom for Odysseus there, just so they could rule nearby each other. Which is why I made the gay joke, by the way haha It's my first time reading Ancient Greek mythology and I admit I was caught off guard by such an earnest expression of Menelaus' love for his friend. Honestly, I get it, I would do the same for my best friends! Haha And I agree, I don't ship them either (even tho I haven't read the Iliad yet - yeah, I know 🥲) and I think it should be more normal to express how much we care about our friends the way Menelaus does.

Regardless, you are right the poor man had enough on his plate already.

And when you put it like that, indeed it's an awkward letter lol

Still, maybe I'm projecting too much here, but if I were in Penelope's or Telemachus' place, I'd like to know something, anything. As useless as the information may sound. They knew Odysseus didn't die in the Trojan War, so what happened? I'd find some semblance of comfort in knowing someone heard my loved one is still alive and he wants to get back to me. I can understand where Menelaus would be coming from, if he thought knowing wouldn't help Penelope of Telemachus at all, but if it were my husband or my father, I'd be furious no one told me.

And maybe it's wishful thinking on my part, but who knows, Penelope might have had some leverage to hold the suitors back in that scenario. It would be extremely disrespectful to try for the Queen's hand if there's a chance the King's still alive. And maybe then Telemachus would have had a chance to prove himself earlier, to show he is already a man and capable of taking over the throne, if he had traveled to look for his father sooner. I mean, Athena herself goes to Telemachus and essentially asks him "Why don't you finally kick those men (the suitors) out of your palace? Why don't you go try to get information about your father?". So maybe having a lead earlier on may have had saved them some of the trouble. At least that's what I was thinking when I read that scene.

And yes, you're right! There is a chance Menelaus did try to send a letter and it never arrived. And maybe he thought he ought to "repeat" the whole story to Telemachus, since the poor boy went through the trouble of getting to Sparta and asking him about Odysseus in person.

Well, at the end of the day, you are the scholar here, I'm just reading those myths for the first time hahaha. To be honest, I wrote the og post as a silly joke when I was half asleep, I didn't expect it to get any attention at all. So I apologize for any misinformation I may have spread on accident!

Telemachus is so much stronger than me for real. Cause if I had traveled for days, by sea AND land, arrived at the palace of my father's friend and my mother's cousin to humbly ask if they know anything about my missing father and instead of just fucking telling me already, this mf started a monologue about how gay he is for my dad and about the time he captured a God that granted him wishes three, I'd already be telling him to Hurry The Fuck Up. IT'S BEEN TEN YEARS, I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY.

But if the same motherfucker then turned around and told me that he had known FOR YEARS NOW that my dad is trapped on an island AND THE MOTHERFUCKER DIDN'T TELL ANYONE!!!! NOT A SINGLE LETTER!!! I would have already strangled Menelaus with that fucking blond hair of his in front of his wife and children, unhelpful son of a bitch.

[eirianerisdar]

Hello! I don't usually read RPF but your Icarus is my perfect measure mix of Angst and Hurt/Comfort. Chapters 18-20 for Angst, and 32 and on for Hurt/comfort are staples for the genres for me.

I'm writing a Hunger Games Fic/story inspired by brocedes and their story, and I wanted to ask: Any tips when it comes to writing a dynamic like theirs? How do you make the Angst so good? The Hurt so hurting, so when the comfort comes in, it's the perfect balance?

Thank you! I kept a couple things in mind when I wrote brocedes in Icarus:

1. It’s mutual pining. Both Nico and Lewis actually do want to repair their friendship but don’t know how to navigate their complex history without getting hurt again. They’re afraid of vulnerability but they can’t fix their relationship without it.

2. They both tend to completely assume the worst in each other’s intentions and overthink every little interaction post silver war. They spent too long actively trying to sabotage and undermine the other and keep twisting what the other says to mean something negative, when both parties might actually be wanting to extend an olive branch. An example of this is in chapter 30, when Nico is genuinely trying to offer help to Lewis and Lewis keeps thinking Nico must have a secondary agenda.

3. They both try to express that they’ve gotten over the friendship breakup in different ways. Nico’s been to so much therapy he uses CBT phrases to refer to their old relationship; he keeps bringing up Lewis and cheering him on because this way he can prove he can talk about Lewis without it affecting him anymore. Lewis is the opposite; he avoids mentioning Nico at all cost because it’s easier to say Nico meant little to him and they were never really friends than to admit what he lost.

And lastly, healing isn’t linear. Most of my stories contain an angst/hurt/comfort storyline and to get to the catharsis, most characters have to reach a deeper low than they thought they previously did because being vulnerable exposes them to the chance of being hurt. It makes the healing so much sweeter.

Happy writing and feel free to send more asks if you have anything else you’d like to ask!

[cyb3rk1tt13g1rl]

If we’re gonna do anything, we might as well just fuck

Summary: You and Hamzah are best friends, but after a smoke sesh leads to a conversation about sex, feelings arise between the two of you.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, usage of weed, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, choking, dirty talk, toys, gagging

Author's note: This is my first time writing in YEARS. The last time I wrote a fic was in like middle school. Due to the lack of hamzah fanfiction (I’ve literally read all of them), I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands😈. I also made it fast paced cause I struggle with building up to the moment so forgive me💔. I also didn’t proofread so forgive me for that as well.

Word count: 1399

“I just think that sex is a beautiful thing. I mean, it's two people coming together with their only goal being pleasure” I say after taking a hit of the joint Hamzah rolled for me. He never lets me roll, in his defense I am pretty shit at it. 

“I feel like everytime we’re high, all we seem to do is talk about sex” Hamzah replies, shortly after also taking a hit of his joint.

“Maybe we can do more than just talk about it?” I say with a slight smirk on my face.

Hamzah looks at me, smoke slightly blocking the view of his eyes. The truth is, I’ve always had a bit of a crush on him. I mean, how could someone not? He’s kind, funny, understanding, and has amazing biceps. Sometimes at night when I masterbate I imagine his bicep around my throat as he’s pounding into me relentlessly.

”Y/n… you’re high.”

”So? You’re telling me that you’ve never wanted to see naked? I mean come on, if we’re gonna do anything… we might as well just fuck.”

”God…” Hamzah says, blowing out a sigh. 

“You have no idea what you do to me, y/n.” 

In a flash, he’s on top of me. My back is pressed onto my living room floor, the spot we always sit at when we have our smoke sessions. His chest presses up against me, and I can feel his bulge start to grow. As his lips meet mine harshly, my hips start to grind on him, desperately searching for any form of friction.

”If you keep doing that, we won't make it to the bedroom.” He says as he places his hands on my waist, locking them in place.

Biting my lip, “That’s ok, the floor is comfy enough” I replied.

His lips meet mine again, even harsher this time somehow. My hands start to roam around his body, trying to memorize every muscle. My hands slowly make their way down to his cock. Teasingly, I slide two fingers slightly into the elastic of his underwear.

”Ok, that’s enough” he says as he lifts me up, and starts making his way to my bedroom.

Without remorse, he shoves me onto the bed, and rips off my pajama shorts, along with my lacy underwear.

“God, y/n. Even more perfect than what I imagined.”

”Please, do something” I beg him.

”So needy, aren’t you? What do you need from me? Huh? Tell me, baby.”

”Please, please, I need your tongue on my clit. So bad. Need it so bad, H.”

With that, he kneels down, kissing the inside of my thighs teasingly.

”Hamzah, I need you right now.”

His eyes meet mine while he’s still leaving wet kisses on my thighs.

”I see you don’t like it slow.” He says as his mouth finally makes contact with my needy clit.

”Oh my god, Hamzah, yes.” I moan out. 

His mouth and tongue work relentlessly, and when he enters a finger inside me, I scream out his name.

”Yes, y/n. Scream out my name. Let the neighbors know who this pussy belongs to.”

”Yes, Hamzah. Like that, don’t change anything. Gonna cum.” I groan out as my hands find their way to his curls. My head falls back involuntarily, with my eyes closed.

”Keep your eyes on me. Want to see your face as you cum. Wouldn’t want to punish you, would we?” He tells me.

Oh, but we would.

Refusing to look back at him,  he rips his finger out of me, along with removing his mouth from my nerves.

He slaps my pussy, making me moan out even louder.

“Oh, you like that? Why doesn’t that surprise me?”, he says, slapping it again.

His mouth finds its way back to where I need him most, and with a few more licks, and sucks, I cum.

”Fuck, Hamzah!” I scream out as he helps me ride through my orgasm.

”Please fuck me. I need your cock in me so bad. Want to be your slut.” I beg.

Without saying a word, he rips his pants off, then takes off my shirt, following with my bra.

”Fuck, y/n.” He says as he eyes me up and down.

”Get on the bed. Want to ride you.” I say.

As Hamzah gets on the bed next to me, I straddle him. Before I since I sit on him, I scoot myself down a bit so that my face is perpendicular to his hard cock. 

“This is a sight I could get used to”, Hamzah tells me as his hands grab my hair, makeshiftting a hair tie.

Taking his length into my hand, I pump him a few times before my tongue makes contact with his tip. 

Rolling my tongue around in circles for a bit, I finally but my mouth around his tip.

”Jesus fuck, y/n. That’s so good.”

Due to his praise, I move my mouth further down until it hits the back of my throat, making my eyes water. With a slight gag, I remove my mouth, pumping him with the saliva left over.

He looks so good. His eyes are red and glossed over. Hair a little messy from my hands. 

Removing my hand, I finally straddle him.

Before he enters me, I reach over to my nightstand.

”Oh, I have a condom in my wallet.” He says as he tries to get up. My hands push him down, forcing him to lie back down.

”That's ok. I wasn’t looking for a condom” I reply, pulling out my vibrator.

”Are you on the pill?”

”Yes. And I haven’t had sex with anyone without a condom. I’m ok with not using a condom if you are.” I reply, as I fidget with the vibrator.

”Yes, absolutely yes I’m ok with that. I also haven’t had unprotected sex so I’m clean.”

“Perfect.” I smile at him.

FInally, I positioned his tip to my opening.

”Oh, god” I moan as I feel him stretching me out.

”Fuck y/n. You’re so beautiful. So perfect.”

Bouncing on him, I get more comfortable and turn on my vibrator.

Positioning it on my clit, my head falls back.

”Fuck y/n. I love being inside you. So fucking perfect. Like your pussy was made just for me.”

As I continue riding him, he notices that I start getting tired as my thrusts get slower.

He grabs my hips and flips us over so that my back is against my bed. He stands on his knees, grabbing my left ankle, and placing it on his right shoulder. 

I’ve never had sex like this. It’s like he can read my mind about everything I want. 

As he grabs my throat with his left hand, I’m convinced he’s actually a mind reader.

The feeling of him thrusting into me without mercy, the vibrator on my clit, and his hand on my throat makes the familiar unraveling euphoria build.

My hands grab his wrist that’s on my throat, and with that he strengthens his grip.

”You’re so pretty, y/n. Don’t know how I’ve held back for this long. Could cum just thinkin’ about you.”

“Please don’t don’t stop, gonna cum” I scream out.

”Hold on just a bit, I’m almost there.”

When his thrusts start to slow and he starts to groan more and more, i place my hands on his chest, slightly scratching him with my nails.

When he groans louder in response, I scratch harder.

”Fuck y/n. You’re gonna make me cum.”

He places a hand on my tit, with my nipple in between in pointer and middle as if it was the joint he was smoking earlier.

With the last few thrusts, I cum, and shortly after he does too.

”Fuck, could stay here forever.” Hamzah tells me.

”I’m fine with that.” I reply with a dazed smile.

When he tries to exit from me, i wrap my legs around his waist, pushing him back in, making him wince in pain  and pleasure.

”Stay in me, please. Feels nice.”  I ask

”Ok” he says with a toothy smile.

He bends down, kissing at my neck and tits interchangeably until his head meets my chest.

”I never want to move from here.” I told him.

”Let’s just sleep like this.” He replies, kissing my skin afterwards.

And sleep like that we do.

Another authors note: please be nice y’all this is my first time writing smut❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹. 

[takiishichika]

What do you like about Endo character when his entire personality is being brainless dog for chika? Outside chika he has no real character or development at all .

i know you sent this in bad faith and i should ignore this, but you've given me a good excuse to talk about endo, so thank you! before i begin, let me say :

why are you on the Endo Liker blog hating? that's, like, my brand. being the Endo Liker. i won't agree with you.

in case you are genuinely curious, strap in!

i love "loyal dog to a master" trope in general so yes, part OF the appeal for me is that he's takiishi's loyal dog.

as many characters in Wind Breaker, Endo follows a trope: "brainless loyal dog to evil master". that is his trope, however, when he's introduced, this is NOT how he's introduced, is he? Endo is first shown as someone who pretended to be part of KEEL to see a fun fight play out, and we learn that he orchestrated this. then, we learn he orchestrated the Gravel incident too. two things that matter here: none of those were for, or because of, Takiishi. we learn about him later. so, importantly, Endo is already displaying that he does things outside of his time with Takiishi, and does things that have nothing to do with him at all. he clearly has connections in the criminal underworld and uses them well for goals beyond, or unconnected to, Takiishi. either for his own amusement or because he needs to build some sort of rapport for something else, etc. we didn't even know Takiishi's name at that point. he also has his own sense of style, humor, scents he likes.

the point of his character is that he largely (not entirely, as i wrote above) has no personality outside of Takiishi's likes/dislikes/etc and that THIS IS A PROBLEM. Endo isn't happy, in fact it makes him quite miserable because you cannot base your life around just one person and then be okay. you can see this through the entire fight between Ume and Takiishi, yes, Endo is jealous, but you see that even before - when he fights Sakura. if he really was just a brainless dog with no personality, he wouldn't care if Takiishi ever acknowledged him, yes? of course, Endo SAYS he doesn't care and he was going to continue following him regardless, but he wasn't going to be happy with it - how long until he finally broke down? Endo as a person is first of all a liar and second of all unable to understand how his own brain works, which makes him prone to tantrums and hissy fits. Endo's jealousy wasn't just based on "oh no the person i like likes someone else!". it was based on the fact that he believed, truly, that Takiishi doesn't know he exists. if he was a brainless dog with no personality, he wouldn't care. but he does, and it injures him. it makes him miserable, but not only that, he understood what IS exhilarating - fighting (being heard by) someone who acknowledges (looks at) him. that is a part of who he is, as a person, and it's something Takiishi did not give him. he realized this. that's part of his development.

to understand though why Endo would follow Takiishi to this degree, though, you have to have some critical thinking and understand Endo's past/childhood. Endo claims it was okay, but let me reiterate, Endo is unable to understand how his own brain works so you have to read between the lines there. he was born with Alexithymia. his childhood was lonely, so lonely he claimed he preferred to DIE than go back. do you understand this? do you understand what it means when a child is happy getting beat up by their friend every day, ignored and discarded, and they say they'd rather DIE than stop experiencing this? do you understand the level of loneliness and trauma that being unable to participate in society brings? this is a recurring theme in Wind Breaker, really: how someone can become an outcast, why they may turn to delinquency, and it does it with grace and understanding. neither of the cast really WANTED this life, but because of the fact they were born outside the norm, this is how things ended up. it is the same with Endo, too. for the first time in his life he was able to feel happy and excited. for the FIRST TIME he wasn't faking it. nothing, NOTHING else had made him feel this way until Takiishi, and then until Sakura. so yes, if only one thing in the whole wide world made me feel excited or scared or anxious for the first time ever, i too would cling to it, i think.

Wind Breaker does a good job, imo, of showing complex personalities and mistakes people make in a way where "everyone is wrong and with a good conversation it will be okay". Ume made Takiishi and Endo come to have a proper talk, and we haven't seen this yet - so we don't know how Endo and Takiishi's relationship has changed now. we'll have to wait and see.

if you didn't understand any of this about him, then you didn't understand Wind Breaker in general and you didn't understand Choji either. not all development is overt, spelled out, or linear.

[losergender]

just 22 chapters more...

she has a tendency to say "there's no justice in this cruel world" but it loses all impact because she will use it both after idk stabbing her toe on a table or after she's been beaten to a near death state

she just used the word hellacious

"good, hard-working, big breasted people" okay

i dont think i am at a state of mind in which i can survive a love triangle with her war criminal teacher and her henchman billionaire emotional discomfort italian

there's so much talk about how she's worse because she's not fully spartan (she's mixed which they call mutt for no reason) but,,, everyone else but 1 guy is a mutt?? and i think achilles was one too?? like him and patroclus are constantly degrading her for that but achilles for the love of god whats that mutt on mutt crime for

everyone hold up someone's talking to her

she's being offered an alliance to survive the hellish military school program they're at and she goes "is he offering me to join a cult? i'd read those were a big problem nowadays. dark times and all." which for the love of god does the entire publishing house not have a single sensitivity reader

oh she has to tutor a guy with maths

"how can you get through a day without knowing linear algebra" what in the fanon annabeth is this

i genuinely fw this guy (also she saw her kill 3 men and has been mentioning it every so often but the reason she wont tutor him is that he doesnt know the basics)

she is very incompetent but none of the guys who have been training for this their whole life seem any more competent

there's this guy insulting and theatening his student for being narcoleptic and she went "preach, sister"

SHE CALLED THE GUY INSULTING AND HITTING THE STUDENT ATTRACTIVE AND CHARISMATIC OH NO

WE GOT THE CONFIRMATION THAT SHE DID GO TO ASL CLASSES THIS IS WAY MORE THAN I WAS EXPECTING

i also want to say that im like half way through this and she has yet to be hercules outside of the fact that they think her dad might be zeus? which applies to way more characters than hercules

"satan: 1 / alexis: 0" ok

i do like that she kicks men in the balls

"pussy power, crush the patriarchy!" imagine being this author and you go on a date with someone and they ask you what you do for a living and you have to say you wrote this. is it not embarrassing?

she got a nosebleed and her extremely acidic spartan blood is not really corrupting anything idk. back in my day nosebleeds awakened the mother land but ok

surprise to no one she's most likely cthonic

"i was worried you were gonna die a virgin. what a dishonor" miss you were overthrowing the patriarchy 2 paragraphs ago and now you're encouraging your best friend to fuck her teacher

carl gauss mention

"it's obvious he LOATHES you but it doesn't mean he doesn't want to murder you in bed" be serious

SHE JUST REFERENCED MIDSOMMAR 2019 FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

"delusion was a girl of a drug" wouldn't last a day in florida

the chapter ends with "spoiler: it wasn't gonna work out" for the love of god

welcome to sunny reacting to stuff in which sunny reacts to stuff. in this tumblr post, we're dealing with blood of hercules (the i'm a girl and as it turns out i'm hercules book) because i'm doing So Bad Mentally that i am in dire need of something that will make me laugh.

chapter 1 reaction below

montana?? out of all states?? okay go off

"kids at school called it apocalytic core. i called it hell" already laughing. i love my life decisions.

SUPERSEED I'M SORRY WHAT?

"if you wanted to live (i didn't)" you and me both bestie

does the author know verb tenses

i'm saying so little bc otherwise the post would be huge. every single sentence is hilariously bad this is so silly

summary if anyone is interested -> pretty unclear dystopian setting, 10-yo befriends an echidna named nyx and then gets a foster brother delivered to her room the next day. the titans are like superhumans killing normal people and the "spartans" are 12 protector families (8 are olympian, 4 are cthonic and those are dangerous murderers or something).

[unriding]

Me sneaking into your asks with this drabble:

Disclaimer: I have yet to get a good grasp of Moze's character so this might be a bit OOC and on your side as well (sorry). I did my best. Also, this was inspired by the post you made abt telling Moze your tasks for the day | 600+ words (not proofread)

.

.

.

In Moze's eyes, you reminded him of a dog catching a case of the zoomies.

You were quite literally everywhere. He'd find you talking to someone one moment before you're rushing off to do something else entirely the next. It seemed like you had quite a lot on your plate as of recently. Tasks, things you wanted to do, and so much more spinning around that mind of yours. You've told him a bit of your plans so he has a general idea. But seeing you juggling all of those tasks at once makes both admiration and concern bloom in his chest.

One time, Moze found you carrying a box filled with items. It would've been amusing to him how comical it was that the items piled so high— he could barely see you behind it. However, he did worry right after given how you almost tripped over something. He managed to catch you and the items before both came crashing all over the floor.

He insisted on helping you carry the items to wherever its destination was. It took a bit of pursuasion on his side. Convincing you that it truly wasn't a bother to him at all, and that he'd be very much glad to be of assistance to you.

"I need to get these delivered first. Then go stop by the shop to buy some things. After that…" You go on to ramble about the things you had to do to help get a better vision on what else you had to do. "Oh, no… I messed up." The smile on your face dropping at the thought that had slipped your mind until that moment. "I forgot to invite Jiaoqiu to dinner with the others—"

"It's tomorrow evening, right? He knows. I mentioned it last time when I spoke to him." Moze says with a calm tone.

You blink at him, slightly caught off-guard by the man beside you. Though it's immediately replaced with relief and gratitude. The smile on your face already back, lighting up your features once more. Infectious as always, it makes the corners of his lips tug upwards as well. A small part of him feels quite proud to have been able to help you ease your worries even by a bit.

And this is when you start noticing it.

Did you mention that you're running out of a certain skincare product, but you can't find the time to stop by the store to buy it? Moze conveniently has to stop by near the store and buys it for you. Did you also mention that you wanted to do a certain task but keep forgetting about it? He gently reminds you about it via message or verbal if he's nearby. Did you also happen to mention that you've been meaning to try out a certain desert from a cafe, but the schedule simply doesn't seem to allow you? No fear, he passes by the store to buy you the treat.

Moze doesn't see you as someone incapable of handling things by yourself. To him, he simply sees it as a way to show his care. If making a quick stop somewhere, sending you a small reminder of something you had to do that day, or even helping you out with the tasks you need to accomplish, makes you smile? Gives you a chance to take a break? Let you worry less about the things you need to do? It's worth it in his eyes.

He does his best to avoid making you feel like you're bothering or troubling him (you really aren't). Most of the time, he does them discrcetly and casually. Partially, since he's also scared that you'll think he's weird or a creep for acting like that.

Please don't think of him badly.

Moze truly means well.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

wattpad is so crazy because users will leave comments expressing nothing but pure disdain and anger for whatever reason (y/n’s characterization, the decision to include original characters, temporary ships and subplots, etc)…like at a certain point i start to wonder if they realize that no one is forcing them to read anything 😭

[ettawritesnstudies]

.

[gaytobymeres]

writing an email in response to a very kind garden historian who has sent me so much information, and im paranoid that 1) i cant write well or clearly, 2) that im writing an email that is so long and boring, and 3) i just feel it might be unnessecary. or maybe im making unjust claims (except im not really claiming anything im just saying 'theres evidence that points to x instead of y') but ive never properly studied history or researched like this so i do feel a bit out of my depth

[acourtofquestions]

KINGDOM OF ASH (by SJM)

Chapter 48

THE FAMILY REUINION🥹😆😭🫶& MY SOULLL

But when they reached Princess Hasar's battle tent, when they had all gathered around a map of Anielle, they had only a few minutes of discussion before they were interrupted. By the person Chaol least expected to walk through the flaps.

A moment later, Chaol was glad he was sitting down.

Nesryn breathed, "Holy gods."

Chaol was inclined to agree as Aelin Galathynius, Rowan Whitethorn, and several others entered the tent.

They were mud-splattered, the Queen of Terrasen's braided hair far longer than Chaol had last seen. And her eyes ... Not the soft, yet fiery gaze. But something older. Wearier.

Chaol shot to his feet. "I thought you were in Terrasen," he blurted. All the reports had confirmed it. Yet here she stood, no army in sight.

Three Fae males-towering warriors as broad and muscled as Rowan—had entered, along with a delicate, dark-haired human woman.

But Aelin was only staring at him. Staring and staring at him.

No one spoke as tears began sliding down her face. Not at his being here, Chaol realized as he took up his cane and limped toward Aelin.

But at him. Standing. Walking.

The young queen let out a broken laugh of joy and flung her arms around his neck. Pain lanced down his spine at the impact, but Chaol held her right back, every question fading from his tongue.

Aelin was shaking as she pulled away. "I knew you would," she breathed, gazing down his body, to his feet, then up again. "I knew you'd do it."

"Not alone," he said thickly. Chaol swallowed, releasing Aelin to extend an arm behind him. To the woman he knew stood there, a hand over the locket at her neck.

Perhaps Aelin would not remember, perhaps their encounter years ago had meant nothing to her at all, but Chaol drew Yrene forward. "Aelin, allow me to introduce"

"Yrene Towers," the queen breathed as his wife stepped to his side.

The two women stared at each other.

Yrene's mouth quivered as she opened the silver locket and pulled out a piece of paper. Hands trembling, she extended it to the queen. Aelin's own hands shook as she accepted the scrap.

"Thank you," Yrene whispered.

Chaol supposed it was all that really needed to be said.

Aelin unfolded the paper, reading the note she'd written, seeing the lines from the hundreds of foldings and rereadings these past few years.

"I went to the Torre," Yrene said, her voice cracking. "I took the money you gave me, and went to the Torre. And I became the heir apparent to the Healer on High. And now I have come back, to do what I can. I taught every healer I could the lessons you showed me that night, about self-defense. I didn't waste it-not a coin you gave me, or a moment of the time, the life you bought me." Tears were rolling and rolling down Yrene's face. "I didn't waste any of it."

Aelin closed her eyes, smiling through her own tears, and when she opened them, she took Yrene's shaking hands. "Now it is my turn to thank you." But Aelin's gaze fell upon the wedding band on Yrene's finger, and when she glanced to Chaol, he grinned.

"No longer Yrene Towers," Chaol said softly, "but Yrene Westfall."

Aelin let out one of those choked, joyous laughs, and Rowan stepped up to her side.

Yrene's head tilted back to take in the warrior's full height, her eyes widening-not only at Rowan's size, but at the pointed ears, the slightly elongated canines and tattoo. Aelin said, "Then let me introduce you, Lady Westfall, to my own husband, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius."

For that was indeed a wedding band on the queen's finger, the emerald mud-splattered but bright. On Rowan's own hand, a gold-and-ruby ring gleamed.

"My mate," Aelin added, fluttering her lashes at the Fae male. Rowan rolled his eyes, yet couldn't entirely contain his smile as he inclined his head to Yrene.

Yrene bowed, but Aelin snorted. "None of that, please. It'll go right to his immortal head." Her grin softened as Yrene blushed, and Aelin held up the scrap of paper. "May I keep this?" She eyed Yrene's locket. "Or does it go in there?"

Yrene folded the queen's fingers around the paper. "It is yours, as it always was. A piece of your bravery that helped me find my own."

Aelin shook her head, as if to dismiss the claim.

But Yrene squeezed Aelin's closed hand. "It gave me courage, the words you wrote. Every mile I traveled, every long hour I studied and worked, it gave me courage. I thank you for that, too."

Aelin swallowed hard, and Chaol took that as excuse enough to sit again, his back giving a grateful tinge. He said to the queen, "There is another person responsible for this army being here." He gestured to Nesryn, the woman already smiling at the queen. "The rukhin you see, the army gathered, is as much because of Nesryn as it is because of me."

A spark lit Aelin's eyes, and both women met halfway in a tight embrace. "I want to hear the entire story," Aelin said. "Every word of it." Nesryn's subdued smile widened. "So you shall. But later." Aelin clapped her on the shoulder and turned to the two royals still by the desk. Tall and regal, but as mud-splattered as the queen.

Chaol blurted, "Dorian?"

Rowan answered, "Not with us." He glanced to the royals.

"They know everything," Nesryn said

"He's with Manon," Aelin said simply.

Chaol wasn't entirely sure whether to be relieved. "Hunting for something important."

The keys. Holy gods.

Aelin nodded. Later. He'd think on where Dorian might now be later. Aelin nodded again. The full story would come then too.

Nesryn said, "May I present Princess Hasar and Prince Sartaq."

Aelin bowed—low. "You have my eternal gratitude," Aelin said, and the voice that came out of her was indeed that of a queen. Any shock Sartaq and Hasar had shown upon the queen bowing so low was hidden as they bowed back, the portrait of courtly grace.

"My father," Sartaq said, "remained in the khaganate to oversee our lands, along with our siblings Duva and Arghun. But my brother Kashin sails with the rest of the army. He was not two weeks behind us when we left."

Aelin glanced to Chaol, and he nodded.

Something glittered in her eyes at the confirmation, but the queen jerked her chin at Hasar. "Did you get my letter?"

The letter that Aelin had sent months ago, begging for aid and promising only a better world in return. Hasar picked at her nails. "Perhaps. I get far too many letters from fellow princesses these days to possibly remember or answer all of them."

Aelin smirked, as if the two of them spoke a language no one else could understand, a special code between two equally arrogant and proud women. But she motioned to her companions, who stepped forward. "Allow me to introduce my friends. Lord Gavriel, of Doranelle." A nod toward the tawny-eyed and golden-haired warrior who bowed.

Tattoos covered his neck, his hands, but his every motion was graceful. "My uncle, of sorts," Aelin added with a smirk at Gavriel. At Chaol's narrowed brows, she explained, "He's Aedion's father."

"Well, that explains a few things," Nesryn muttered.

The hair, the broad-planed face ... yes, it was the same. But where Aedion was fire, Gavriel seemed to be stone. Indeed, his eyes were solemn as he said, "Aedion is my pride." Emotion rippled over Aelin's face, but she gestured to the dark-haired male. Not someone Chaol ever wanted to tangle with, he decided as he surveyed the granite-hewn features, the black eyes and unsmiling mouth.

"Lorcan Salvaterre, formerly of Doranelle, and now a blood-sworn member of my court." As if that weren't a shock enough, Aelin winked at the imposing male. Lorcan scowled. "We're still in the adjustment period," she loudly whispered, and Yrene chuckled.

Lorcan Salvaterre. Chaol hadn't met the male this spring in Rifthold, but he'd heard all about him. That he'd been Maeve's most trusted commander, her most loyal and fierce warrior.

That he'd wanted to kill Aelin, hated Aelin.

How this had come about, why she was not in Terrasen with her army ... "You, too, have a tale to tell," Chaol said.

"Indeed I do." Aelin's eyes guttered, and Rowan put a hand on her lower back. Bad— something terrible had occurred. Chaol scanned Aelin for any hint of it. He stopped when he noticed the smoothness of the skin at her neck. The lack of scars. The missing scars on her hands, her palms. "Later," Aelin said softly. She straightened her shoulders, and another golden-haired male came forward. Beautiful. That was the only way to describe him. "Fenrys ... You know, I don't actually know your family name."

Fenrys threw a roguish wink at the queen.

"Moonbeam."

"It is not," Aelin hissed, choking on a laugh.

Fenrys laid a hand on his heart. "I am blood-sworn to you. Would I lie?"

Another blood-sworn Fae male in her court.

Across the tent, Sartaq cursed in his own tongue. As if he'd heard of Lorcan, and Gavriel, and Fenrys.

Aelin gave Fenrys a vulgar gesture that set Hasar chuckling, and faced the royals. "They're barely housebroken. Hardly fit for your fine company." Even Sartaq smiled at that. But it was to the small, delicate woman that Aelin now gestured. "And the only civilized member of my court, Lady Elide Lochan of Perranth." Perranth. Chaol had combed through the family trees of Terrasen just this winter, had seen the lists of so many royal households crossed out, victim to the conquest ten years ago.

Elide's name had been among them.

Another Terrasen royal who had managed to evade Adarlan's butchers.

The pretty young woman took a limping step forward, and bobbed a curtsy to the royals. Her boots concealed any sign of the source of the injury, but Yrene's attention shot right to her leg. Her ankle. "It's an honor to meet all of you," Elide said, her voice low and steady. Her dark eyes swept over them, cunning and clear. Like she could see beneath their skin and bones, to the souls beneath.

Aelin wiped her hands. "Well, that's over and done with," she announced, and strode to the desk and map. "Shall we discuss where you all plan to march once we beat the living shit out of this army?"

[anthropoetics]

readings: essays & articles

reassuring ghosts and haunted houses

fish recorded singing dawn chorus on reefs just like birds

what people around the world dream about

poet and philosopher david whyte on anger, forgiveness, and what maturity really means

oranges are orange, salmon are salmon

how memories persist where bodies and even brains do not

the avant-garde musical legacy of the moomins

the weight of our living: on hope, fire escapes, and visible desperation

disturbed minds and disruptive bodies

what is better ー a happy life or a meaningful one?

after my dad died, i started sending him emails. months later, someone wrote me back

on the igbo art of storytelling

what the caves are trying to tell us

promethean beasts — how animal uses of fire help illuminate human pyrocognition

the art of loving and losing female friends

on memorizing poetry

the ecological imagination of hayao miyazaki

reading in the age of constant distraction

holly warburton illustrates tender moments of love and light

romancing the fig: what one fruit can tell us about love, life and human civilization

mystery and birds: 5 ways to practice poetry

can a plant remember? this one seems to — here's the evidence

why female cannibals frighten and fascinate

when you give a tree an email adress

fear not — horror movies build community and emotional resilience

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Ways I can think of that “DanDaDan” differs from other shonen series:

* Female MC is as important as male MC

* Canon romance gets consistent development through the series. I think that’s part of the reason why the MC ships with the rivals (Aira, Jiji) aren’t as popular with the fandom for once. The main ship is actually getting good development, so the fanbase doesn’t have to make up headcanons to fill in the space.

* Flips the found family trope on its head by having the main group despise new people whenever they show up and they even actively try to kick them out. The new people only end up staying because they keep lingering around to the point that the main group just gives up and lets them stay.

* The rivals aren’t emo or angst-ridden. Aira is a delusional tryhard popular girl while Jiji is a himbo drama queen. I’d even go as far to say that the MCs are the ones who are emo and angst-ridden.

* Supporting cast is more than just important, they become integral to the story. I’d say that the further you read into DanDaDan, the more it becomes an ensemble cast where everyone is a protagonist in their own right.

* World-building is all over the place, but in a good way. Most other shonen are pretty consistent with what kind of world their characters live in. MHA is superhero-based, Naruto is ninjas and magic, Bleach is spirits, and so on. DanDaDan feels like the author just throws whatever cool shit they can think of into the story. That’s actually the reason why I wrote in a different post that DanDaDan reminds me more of Marvel/DC than any other shonen series, it manages to capture the catch-all insanity of those comics.

* Doesn’t rely on hidden power-ups. The main characters either have to outsmart the villains or they have to train to get better with the powers they already have.

* The pervert comic relief guy is actually endearing for once. Not because of his pervert tendencies, but because he’s so oblivious to how socially inept he is that it’s kind of funny. This is gonna sound strange, but he sorta reminds me of Thor in Thor Ragnarok. Full of himself and oblivious to how dumb he can be. He’s Thor without the good looks lol.

* Flips the “nerdy outcast loser somehow gets a harem” trope. Instead of making Okarun cooler than how he actually is, the story emphasizes that the women who fall for Okarun are as weird as him. Momo is a weird outcast, Aira has main character syndrome, Vamola doesn’t understand how to human because she’s literally not one, Rin thought Okarun was a vampire (and wanted him to be).

* Flips the “elderly figure in charge of the teenagers” trope. I don’t really get motherly figure vibes from Seiko Ayase, I get more “cool wine aunt who is stuck with her niece” vibes. In fact, there was the arc where Okarun showed up to her in spirit mode to get her help with fighting off the alien invasion and Seiko’s response was, “Well, I’m not in the area and I have other shit to do, so you kids figure it out.”

* The series takes the piss out of the trope of mystical/magical items that the group acquired to get their powers. I mean…the main mystical MacGuffin in the series are Okarun’s balls.

* Okarun was about to go into an “I’m weak / I wish I was stronger / I want to get stronger for my friends” breakdown, but Turbo Granny told him to shut up and keep fighting.

* Not afraid to put the “cool girl” in as many funny situations as possible. Off the top of my head, the series built up Momo as this cool, tough girl who doesn’t take shit from anyone…then several chapters later, Okarun found out she got a job at a maid cafe.

(Feel free to add to the list!)

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Harvest Moon

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 3,100 Summary: It's Joel's birthday and you're going to make sure he has a good one. Warnings: smut, fluff, dancing in the kitchen to neil young, unprotected p in v, public-ish sex (but under a blanket), talking to neighbors while sitting on joel miller's cock, apocalypse birth control (pulling out), fingering, riding, joel has a filthy mouth, no use of y/n, not beta read.

A/N: I spent most of tonight adding 2,500 words to this barely written piece. Now it's two hours past my bedtime, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOEL MILLER!!! This can absolutely be read as a standalone, but, this is yet another singular smut entry for my Elks babies. This was originally going to be posted as a birthday celebration chapter for that, but I really wanted to give Joel his gift on his actual birthday. Happy birthday you gorgeous old man, you. Hope you like the porn I wrote about you. ❤️🥴

Masterlist

🌕🌕🌕🌕

You’ve been looking for the CD since you learned of Joel’s love of the song. Tommy did it, he actually did it. Somehow by some miracle he found the CD. 

“Not a problem,” he gives you that same shy Miller lopsided grin. “Milt had it. Told me to tell you it’s yours to keep… said he owes you since you were his daughter’s favorite teacher ���n all.”

“Thanks Tommy,” you say, barely being able to contain your excitement, “this is going to be amazing.”

“Of course. Should be thanking you really,” he shrugs. “It’s about time he had a good birthday.”

—

Joel said he’d be helping fix one of the greenhouses today, but you’re still scared to ruin the surprise as you unlock his door. 

“Joel?” you yell out into the quiet, seemingly empty house. 

No answer. Perfect.

Quick steps lead you to his CD player, the same one he first showed you how much he cared for you with. Now, it’s your turn to show him just how much he means to you. The disc tray opens and you place the CD into the system, you can’t wait to surprise him. 

—

“More coffee?” you ask, holding up the percolator.

He nods and smiles, happily sitting at the table full from the steak, potatoes, and cornbread you made him. He had insisted on sharing the meat, but you refused, happy to let him enjoy the first taste of steak in over twenty years.

Your friend Helen got her boyfriend Greg to cut a small filet of steak from the newly butchered cow. She handed it to you with a knowing smile. It’s nice to see everyone accept yours and Joel’s relationship. 

You lean over his lap, and top his coffee cup off. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love seeing you in a dress? Can’t believe you got yourself all dolled up for me.” He surprises you by pulling you onto his lap. 

“Careful!” you shriek, quickly placing the carafe on the table. “Yes, you have… many times. That's why I wore it.”

“Hmph,” he hums happily, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping securely around you. “Thank you for dinner–and everything sweetheart.” He presses a soft kiss to your skin. 

“That’s not all,” you giggle as he nips at a sensitive spot under your chin. 

He chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re so good to me.” 

You clutch his chin tilting his head up to meet your eyes. “You deserve a happy birthday.” His big brown eyes search yours, like he’s forcing himself to believe it. “Joel, you do.” 

He rests his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he sighs warmly.

“I love you too. Now, I have something else for you,” you slip off his lap and head towards your backpack. “It’s something small, I promise.”

You return with a bundle of fabric held behind your back. 

“Remember when you tore your favorite flannel and you tossed it in the rag bag?”

You place the flannel in his hands.

“Well, a certain girl named Ellie grabbed it for me. I mended it, reinforced the buttons, and sewed up a couple holes. It’s not perfect, but it’s fixed.”

He holds the flannel up and inspects it. “This is–wow–this–I can’t believe it.” He looks up at you, his eyes wide with adoration. “I was wearing this that first day I saw you, y’know? This is so sweet sweetheart, thank you.” 

He likes it, you thank your lucky stars. Your handsome Joel, here with you on his birthday, allowing himself to be taken care of. 

You know the story of his birthday, you’ve retold the tale to yourself every night as you anticipated this day. Afraid to upset him, afraid to cross a line, but all you’ve wanted to do is give him the world he so deserves. 

It wasn’t just you who thought of him today. It’s Tommy finding the CD. It’s Helen getting you the steak. It’s Ellie grabbing the flannel from the rag bag. He deserves all of it. 

“You’re welcome,” you say with a kiss to his forehead. “Now, put it on. I have one more surprise.”

He slips the flannel on as you head to the living room. The CD waits in the stereo. You turn it on.

The soft guitar and brushes of a drum fills the air as you turn the volume up.  

Joel’s huge smile greets you when you walk back into the kitchen.

“You– how?” he asks, unbelieving. 

“Asked Tommy and he found it for me. Milt had his greatest hits. Now,” you reach your hand out to him, “may I have this dance birthday boy?”

He chuckles and takes your hand, pulling you into him. The two of you sway along to the music, his strong arms enveloping you as your cheek rests against his warm chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart beneath your ear. Your hands slip around his broad back, one of them trailing up to play with the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He sighs deeply before placing a tender kiss against the top of your head. 

“This is my favorite song,” he murmurs.

The sun has long since set, the singular lamp above the sink casts a warm dark amber glow across the kitchen Your shadows dance across the walls as you sway. He smells of coffee and sweet corn bread, like home and comfort. 

He starts to hum then softly sing along. His deep voice reverberates through your ear, pressed against his heart. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,  I wanna see you dance again,  Because I’m still in love with you,  On this harvest moon”

You can hear the contentment in his voice as he holds you closer. Moving in synchronicity with each other, gently stepping across the small kitchen as the harmonica solo plays. If you could stay in this moment forever you would.

You tilt your head up, and his eyes meet yours. The smile he gives lights his face. Lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes, dimple sitting deep on his cheek, mustache curving with his plush upturned lips. He serenades you with the same lyrics as before, looking deep in your eyes. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,  I wanna see you dance again,  Because I’m still in love with you,  On this harvest moon”  

His lips meet yours, thanking you with a gentle kiss. The man you love and adore, feels good on his birthday all because of you. 

The song plays on repeat, the two of you dance together, Joel gently hums and sings along as the harvest moon rises above the mountains. 

You gently pull away, unclasping his arms from around you.

“Come on birthday boy,” you say with a playful smile, “let’s go watch the stars.” 

—

You and Joel sit beneath a large plaid comforter on his porch. The early fall breeze that rolls down the mountainside leaves a chill in the air. The night sky is lit bright with the orange full moon. Most of Jackson is at the Harvest Moon Festival tonight, you can just make out the distant sounds of laughter and music flowing through the air from the main street on his porch. Ellie was especially thrilled about the teen sleepover happening at the Bison tonight, giving you both this rare moment of solitude in his backyard. She told Joel she knew he was in good hands with you for his birthday. 

And he is–or at least you’re in his good hands. 

“Oh, god,” you softly whisper into the night, you’re so tense from keeping yourself quiet. The stars are a little harder to see tonight thanks to the ambient glow of the bright moon, and yet you see stars whenever you squeeze your eyes shut while fighting the urge to moan. Joel’s deft, large thumb rubs circles against your clit while you ride two of his thick fingers. 

He’s driving you crazy like this. His large body and the blanket wrapped around you, overheating all of your senses in this chilly night. You’re completely covered, nobody would know that your legs are spread wide, one draped over his thick thigh while his hand is stuffed up your dress making you quake as he finger fucks you.

“Easy now, easy now,” he says nuzzling against your neck, his large nose charting a course across the sensitive skin. “Gotta remember where we are. You're the sweet, innocent teacher 'n librarian here. Lotta people look up to you, can’t have them knowin’ what my girl really likes when she’s with me.” Your hips slow their movement, he makes up for it by pumping you harder. “See, I can help, just gotta let me know you want it baby.” 

“Want to take–neyugh–care of you,” struggles out of your mouth. 

“You’re taking care of me right now, sweetheart, touching you is my favorite thing to do.” 

“Want to go inside… w-want to–want–to, want to feel you in my mouth,” you grip the straining bulge underneath the fly of his jeans. 

“Not yet,” he sighs deeply when you squeeze harder. “Like seeing your skin glow in the moonlight. What you’re doin’ now is enough, want to enjoy my night with you.”

Your hold tightens around his cock as you fight harder to suppress the urge to scream into the night. His fingers angle up hitting your most sensitive spot and you feel like you could explode. You’ll be the fireworks to celebrate Joel’s birthday. A whimper is fought by biting your lip, it’s so hard to not scream. His brown eyes look almost black in the low light as he watches you struggle and blink rapidly. 

“Shh baby, you’re doing so good, bein’ so quiet, don’t ruin it now. If anybody was out right now they could walk right on by and they’d have no idea what I’m doing to you under here.”

You’ve never done anything like this, so out in the open. Jackson is a peaceful town full of law abiding citizens, and right now you’re sitting on the back of the porch of Joel’s house getting felt up by him. 

“Joel… I–I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me baby.” His hot breath hits your lips before sealing his mouth against yours. Your cunt spasms against his thick fingers, you feel set alight by your orgasm, overheated and burning. Maybe you’re glowing just as bright as the moon. His tongue dances with yours, swallowing all of your gasps and cries. You’re sure at this point, anybody that walked by would know exactly what was happening between the two of you. You don’t care, all you want is to feel Joel’s cock inside you.

“Want you, Joel, want you so bad,” you mew as his fingers rub against your sensitive folds. 

“Okay baby, okay.” His fingers slip from your warmth before he brings his soaked digits to his lips. His eyes flutter shut when he tastes you. 

“Sweeter than birthday cake,” he declares before raising his hips and pulling his jeans down with a grunt. “Come here. Come sit on me.”

Your legs spread wide as you straddle his large lap with your back pressed against the warmth of his chest. He grips himself and moves the half hard heft of his cock against your soaked core, swirling his tip back and forth across your clit. 

“Tell me you want my cock,” he whispers against your neck, licking a line up to your ear. “Tell me baby.”

“I-I want your cock–I need your cock Joel,” you beg. 

“I know you do darling,” he chuckles deeply, lining himself up to your entrance.

The sounds of the festival go silent and the bright orange moon fades as you slowly sink down on his cock. Taking all of him, thick and throbbing into your tight cunt. 

“That’s my good girl,” he grits. “Your sweet pussy is taking me so well, isn’t she?”

Clutching your bottom lip tightly between your teeth, you try to fight the moan his words bring up.

“Oh, you must like that. You’re squeezin’ me so hard sweetheart.” 

You set a pace, riding him gently under the moonlight, his fingers gripping your hips tight. 

His hot breaths hit the back of your neck as your back molds even tighter to his front. His hand snakes down to rub your clit, small circles making your body meld even more against him.. The rhythm of his fingers and cock spearing you pulls another orgasm down from the ethers of space. Shivering, sweating, and stuttering Joel’s name, you’re trying to be good for him, trying to not scream into the night. 

“That’s my girl, grippin’ my cock so good, cummin’ all over me. Getting yourself nice and slippery so I can fuck you real good, huh?” 

“Mmf,” is the only response you can muster. Your cunt flutters around him, and he doesn’t relent, slowly fucking into you while his finger pulses against your clit. 

The sound of two people conversing approaches. Your movements come to a halt, Joel stays still, his finger still resting against your sensitive bundle of nerves and his cock sitting deep inside you. Hank and Billie, the nice couple that lives three houses down from Joel, walk past the porch. Both look over and wave a greeting. Fuck.

“Beautiful moon, isn’t it?” Hank says with a smile. 

“Quite.” Joel responds. The rumble of his loud voice radiates through you.  

“You guys get any barbecue tonight?” Hank asks. “It was really go–”

“We stayed in,” Joel gruffly responds. He subtly knocks his hips into you causing a wave of sensation to hit against your already cock-drunk pussy.

Your nostrils flare with a deep exhale.  

“Oh, well, there will probably be leftovers tomorrow,” Billie offers. “Tell them I sent you and they’ll give you the good stuff.”

“Thanks Billie,” you breathlessly reply, wishing on every star you’ve seen behind your eyelids, they’ll leave. “We appreciate it.”

“Best be getting home,” Hank says, grabbing Billie’s hand. “We both had a bit too much to drink!” 

Oh thank god.

“Enjoy your night,” Joel says plainly as he starts to slowly rock into you once they turn away. 

To the eyes of your neighbors, you and Joel just look like a normal couple enjoying the night sky cuddled together under a blanket… little do they know he’s filling you with his thick cock under the shield. 

“That was close,” he whispers against your ear before nipping it. 

Your giggle is cut off by a moan when he fucks into you harder. 

“Guess we shouldn’t take our time, don’t want to get caught, now do we?” he asks. 

“We can just–nyuh–go inside,” you plead, wanting to be able to moan and scream Joel’s name in the comfort of his home. 

“Gimme one more baby, gimme one more,” he grunts against your neck. “And then I’ll take you into my home and fuck you.”

His hips pound against your body, his thrusts bucking into your core harder. “That’s it baby, you really want me to take you in and lay you down ‘n fuck you, don’t you?” 

“Mmhmm,” you moan, your stomach tightening and thighs trembling as the universe splinters around you. Your orgasm rockets through your body. Color turns to black and white, noise falls silent. All that exists is Joel Miller and his big cock shattering you into a million pieces like your own personal big bang on the back of his porch. 

“Good girl,” he groans, “let’s take this party inside.”

—

The plaid comforter is laid out on the kitchen floor. Your wobbly legs move your still blissed-out body to Joel’s stereo, starting “Harvest Moon” on repeat all over again. 

You lean against the kitchen entrance, admiring Joel as he rests atop the blanket, naked and supporting himself on his elbows. No man over fifty should ever look as good as him. Broad shoulders frame his strong arms, his chest has a smattering of dark hair that trails down to the slight bulge of his stomach. His cock rests in between his legs, still hard and shining with your slick. He’s so gorgeous, and he’s all yours. 

“Come here sweetheart,” his voice is gruffer. “Lay down next to me.”

His dick twitches as you walk to the blanket and settle beside him. 

He moves over you, covering you with his warmth as he engulfs himself in your slick heat. Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist allowing him to take more. 

“Joel,” you moan. The angle allows his cock to push farther in and your walls to tighten harder against him. 

“Ooh, you’re so fucking wet, you hear that?” he asks incredulously. The squelch of your pussy soundtracks along to the song quietly playing in the background. “Sounds so fucking good baby.” 

He gasps when buries himself to the hilt, soaking the curly hairs around the base of him with your wet.

Your body trembles as your hips meet his, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt at a brutal pace. 

He takes no time to own you now behind the walls of his home. Your hands clutch at his wide back, sobs and screams of his name echoing out into the air as Neil Young softly sings in the background. 

You’re so full of him. His body surrounding you, his lips against yours, his cock pounding into your accepting cunt, his name chanting out of your mouth. 

“You want it baby?” he growls against your neck, his cock pumping in and out of your hole at a speed no man over fifty should be able to ever reach. “You want my cum?” 

“C-cum Joel,” you cry, tears sprouting from your eyes as your fourth orgasm launches through you. 

He gasps your name, pulling out of your tremorous pussy and shooting thick white ropes of cum across your pussy and stomach. 

His sweat is slick against your overheated body, you’re a mess of sweat, orgasm, and love. 

He kisses you, his tongue licking against yours before he rolls off you. His chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. “Fuck,” he pants, stretching his limbs out. “Gonna feel this tomorrow.” 

“Well, you are another year older, old man,” you tease, curling up next to him. 

“Yeah,” he turns his head to look at you. “I guess I am,” he sighs. “Thank you for–my birthday and–all of this. I can never put into words how much it all means to me.” 

“So I guess you’re still in love with me?” you tease.

“Always. Especially on this harvest moon,” he returns your smile. 

---

Tagging a couple people who had asked about this piece earlier this month: @almostfoxglove, @sawymredfox, @burntheedges, and @littlemisspascal 🩷🌝