#its okay to be passionate about your fandom | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

h4nj1sunggg · 23 days ago

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₁ . 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 - ( h. jisung. )

pairing: rockstar!Han Jisung x groupie fem!reader.

genre: smut, angst, rockstar x groupie to lovers

words: 5.7k summary: jisung is an idol, you are his groupie.

ᯓᡣ𐭩　 ( masterlist ) . playlist. part two.

warnings: a lot of make out, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex (don't be silly), dirty talks, breeding.

You're just a fan.

You’d always been passionate about music—its ability to tell stories, to evoke emotions you didn’t even realize you had. But when you first heard Han Jisung’s voice, it was like a switch flipped in your soul. His lyrics felt like they were written just for you, his melodies like they were designed to sit in your chest and echo for days.

It started with the music. Long before you ever thought about standing in a crowd or knowing his name, it was his voice that hooked you, a melodic thread weaving its way into the chaos of your life. His lyrics, so raw and unfiltered, felt like a window into his soul—and, in some strange way, yours too. Every word seemed crafted for the moments you couldn’t articulate yourself.

It wasn’t just the music, though. It was the way he performed—raw and unfiltered, like he was giving a piece of himself to the world every time he stepped on stage. You couldn’t help but be captivated.

The first song you heard wasn’t even one of the title tracks. It was an obscure B-side, tucked away on an album you stumbled upon by accident. But it hit you like a tidal wave. The layers, the emotions, the honesty—it was unlike anything you’d heard before. You remember sitting in your room with headphones on, the world around you fading as you let his music fill every corner of your mind. It wasn’t just a song; it was a lifeline. “I swear, he writes from a place most people are too afraid to touch,” you once explained to a friend, clutching your headphones like a lifeline. “It’s like he’s pouring out all the messy, beautiful parts of being human.”

Your admiration for him wasn’t the casual kind. It was the kind that had you at every concert within a hundred-mile radius, screaming his lyrics at the top of your lungs. The kind that had you pouring over interviews and album liner notes, learning about his creative process and the stories behind his songs.

Then came the rest. The way his voice could switch from a soft, whispery croon to a fiery, rapid-fire rap. The way he seemed to pour every ounce of himself into his work, leaving nothing behind. His music was like a diary you had no right to read, yet it felt like he’d written it for someone like you—someone who needed it. It wasn’t just his voice or the lyrics. It was the way his compositions felt alive. The subtle harmonies, the little ad-libs that only revealed themselves on the tenth or twentieth listen, the way every beat seemed to have its own heartbeat. His songs weren’t just music; they were experiences, stories you wanted to live in forever.

There was something deeply human about his art.

He wasn’t afraid to explore the messy, complicated parts of life—the heartbreak, the anxiety, the longing for something more. He turned those emotions into something beautiful, something you could hold onto when your own thoughts felt too heavy to carry.

His music became your companion. On good days, it was the soundtrack to your joy. On bad days, it was the only thing that could pull you out of the darkness. It felt like he was reaching through the speakers, reminding you that it was okay to feel, to break, to rebuild.

It wasn’t just fandom—it was gratitude. For the songs that kept you company when you felt alone. For the words that gave you clarity when everything else was a blur. For the reminder that there was beauty in vulnerability, and strength in sharing it.

And so, you became a groupie—it was about chasing the feeling his music gave you. That indescribable, unshakeable sense of belonging.

Everyoe knows he has groupies, all over the cities, all over the countries. How could you even be mad at that? He is breathtaking, shockingly beautiful and sexy, a 25 years old guy that doesn’t stop to get settle with anyone.

The night was alive with anticipation, the air buzzing as you made your way through the crowd outside the concert venue. The throbbing bass and distant cheers filtered through the walls, and with each step you took closer, your heart raced a little faster. You wore your favorite band t-shirt, the one that felt like armor, emblazoned with the words of the very song that had saved you—Han Jisung’s words. When you finally entered, the sea of fans erupted around you, everyone a whirlwind of excitement and energy. You found a spot near the front, right where you could see him emerge any moment now.

The lights dimmed, and the crowd roared in unison. The atmosphere was electric, a palpable wave of passion that made your skin tingle. As the first chords of music filled the room, time seemed to slow down. Then, like a bolt of lightning, he appeared on stage—Han Jisung in all his glory. Your breath hitched in your throat as his silhouette became clearer against the vibrant lights.

He was just as you had imagined: effortlessly charismatic, with a spark in his eyes that drew you in like a moth to a flame. The first song struck like a melody of memories, filling your chest with a warmth you couldn’t quite articulate. Every lyric spilled from his lips like a confession, and you sang along, the words wrapping around you like a familiar blanket.

It felt as though he was speaking directly to you, his gaze connecting with every listener in the crowd, weaving an intricate tapestry of shared experience. You couldn’t help but get lost in the moment, your worries forgotten as you surrendered to the music. But the magic of the night didn’t stop there. Just as the chorus of his third song echoed through the hall, Han paused. “This next one,” he said, his voice soft yet commanding, “is for anyone who’s ever felt like they didn’t belong.”

The room went silent, as if the world outside had paused to listen. It was like he was reaching through the ether, touching the hearts of his fans, reminding them they weren’t alone.

That’s when it happened—something unexpected. As he sang, you felt his eyes drift over the crowd and land on you.

For a fleeting moment, the chaos faded away, and it was just you and him in that moment.

Your heart raced wildly, and you could swear your pulse synced to the rhythm of the song. It was surreal, a brief connection that seemed to transcend the space between performers and fans. Just as quickly as it began, he moved on, and the moment ignited a fire deep within you.

This wasn’t just admiration; it was a life-altering sense of purpose. After the concert, as the lights dimmed and the last notes faded, you stood there in disbelief.

The world reformed around you, but in your heart, something had changed. Walking out of the venue, your mind raced with excitement. That fleeting connection felt too powerful to ignore. In that moment of passion, you realized that you were so much more than just a fan; you were a beacon of the change his music inspired in you. You had stories to tell, lyrics to write, and a world to explore, echoing the very sentiments that had pulled you in. Months later, you decided to attend another concert, this time less as a devoted fan and more as an artist in your own right. You took your notebook with you, filled with your own lyrics and drawings inspired by Han’s impact on your life. But this time, as you stood in the crowd again, you realized your heart wasn’t just searching for connection; it was ready to forge new paths and create beauty alongside those who inspired you.

Jisung was mid-performance, sweat glistening under the stage lights as he owned every second of the crowd’s adoration. You were front and center, screaming his name like your life depended on it. He caught your gaze for a fraction of a second—just enough to send your heart into overdrive.

The thrum of the bass reverberated through your chest as the crowd surged around you, but you couldn’t focus on anything but him. Jisung was electrifying on stage—his movements precise, effortless, and filled with a raw energy that made your heart race. The sweat on his skin caught the light with every jump and turn, and the way he commanded the stage had you completely entranced.

You screamed his name, hands stretched up toward the stage, desperate for any acknowledgment. "Jisung!" you shouted, the sound of your voice swallowed by the chaotic roar of the fans. But then, for a brief, fleeting moment, his eyes locked with yours. The world seemed to stop, the noise from the crowd fading into a muffled hum. His lips curved into a smirk—playful, confident, and undeniably aware of the effect he had on you.

Your heart skipped a beat, and it felt like the entire arena had disappeared, leaving only the two of you in that charged moment.

Jisung's gaze flickered over you, slowly, taking in every detail of you from head to toe before it lingered just a little too long. That was enough to send a jolt of heat rushing through your body, your pulse spiking in a way you couldn't ignore.

The beat of the song changed, and he moved effortlessly into his next set of choreographed steps, but his eyes never fully left you. A few seconds later, he leaned into the mic, his voice cutting through the loud cheers and claps. "I see you out there," he called out, his voice smooth and seductive. "Maybe after the show, you can come backstage and show me what else you've got."

The crowd went wild, but it was the way he said it—low, with that playful, teasing edge—that made your breath catch in your throat. Was he serious? Was this really happening?

Before you could even gather your thoughts, you found yourself nodding, heart pounding in anticipation. The idea of getting close to him—of being in his presence, no longer just a face in the crowd—was enough to send a rush of excitement and nervousness flooding through your veins.

As the performance came to a close and the crowd erupted into applause, you couldn't tear your gaze away from Jisung. He smiled and waved to the audience, but his eyes found you again, locking on you as though you were the only one in the room.

A beat passed before he tossed the mic to one of the staff members and gestured to the side. "Backstage, yeah?" he mouthed with a wink.

Your breath hitched as you nodded once again, your pulse racing. The excitement was almost too much to contain as you pushed through the crowd, making your way toward the side of the venue, where the backstage doors loomed.

The security guards nodded at you, clearly recognizing you from the earlier moments. The adrenaline from the performance still buzzed in the air, and soon enough, you found yourself standing just behind the curtain, waiting for the moment that felt like a dream.

The door opened, and there he was—Jisung, sweat still glistening on his skin, his eyes burning with that same playful intensity from earlier. His grin was a little wider now, a little more knowing. He leaned against the doorframe, his posture relaxed but confident.

“You came,” he said, his voice hushed but loaded with expectation.

“I said I would,” you responded, stepping toward him, your legs trembling but your resolve firm.

Jisung pushed off from the door, closing the space between you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Good. You’re just as bold as I thought,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. The room felt impossibly small as you both stood there, the space between you charged with unspoken promises.

He reached up, his hand brushing the side of your face, his fingers cool against your skin after the heat of the stage. “I like that.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, closing the final gap between you with a kiss that was everything you had imagined and more. Electric, heated, and completely intoxicating. You melted into it, the reality of the moment settling around you like a dream that was slowly becoming your new truth.

"what's your name beautiful?"

"y/n", his grin deepened. “good, you’re with me tonight.”

Shivers running down your back as you’re still over the edge from the kiss that he just stealed from you, so easily, like the most normal thing in the world.

The implications behind those words swirled around in your mind as anticipation danced in your veins. Every part of you wanted to say yes—to embrace whatever adventure awaited beyond this stolen moment.

But something deeper stirred within—a fear mingled with longing that threatened to choke back your excitement.

“Where are we going?” you asked softly, searching his eyes for answers. His smile widened further as he took your hand gently in his own—his touch grounding yet electrifying at once.

“my room,” he replied with an infectious enthusiasm that made you feel alive. “Tonight is ours.”

He led you out of the cramped backstage area into the vibrant chaos of post-concert euphoria—the energy buzzing around as fans celebrated what they’d just witnessed was intoxicating in its own right.

As laughter echoed around you both and Jisung’s fingers intertwined with yours securely, it became clear: this night would be one for the books—he’s holding you like he wants you with all his desire.

Each step felt like a leap into the unknown, every heartbeat resonating with the thrill of what lay ahead.

Jisung's fingers intertwined with yours securely, and the way he held you was possessive and tender all at once, as if he wanted to shield you from the world outside. “Can you believe we made it through that?” he laughed, his eyes sparkling with the afterglow of adrenaline and joy.

You nodded, unable to form words, too caught up in the moment. The night had been electric, a whirlwind of lights and sound, and now it was culminating in this moment, just the two of you. As you passed by excited fans, you felt a surge of confidence, the connection between you and Jisung felt undeniable.

Finally, they reached the door to his room, a private sanctuary away from the chaos. Jisung opened it with a flourish, and the moment you stepped inside, the noise faded into a soft hum. The room was dimly lit, adorned with posters of his favorite bands and a few mementos from past concerts. It felt like a glimpse into the soul of the man you had come to admire.

“Welcome to my world,” he said, closing the door behind you, the sound echoing in the quiet space. As he turned to face you, the playful glint in his eyes shifted to something deeper, more sincere. “I’m glad you’re here.”

With that, he stepped closer, the distance between you evaporating.

Your heart raced as he leaned in, his breath mingling with yours, both of you caught in a moment that felt suspended in time. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the space between you—a tension so palpable it almost crackled.

“Are you ready?” he whispered, his voice low and inviting.

You nodded, your pulse quickening as he closed the final distance and captured your lips with his. The kiss was sweet, full of promise and passion, igniting every nerve in your body. It was everything you had dreamed of and more, a collision of desire and emotion that swept you off your feet.

His mouth moved against yours with a fervor that took your breath away, each caress sending waves of heat coursing through you. It was sweet, but it was also wild and consuming, a fierce declaration of everything you had kept bottled up. You melted against him, surrendering to the tide of emotions that crashed over you, drowning out all thought except for the intoxicating taste of him.

His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him, as if he couldn’t get close enough. You felt the strength of his body, the way he held you as though you were his lifeline. The kiss deepened, and you could feel the promise of something more—an uncharted territory filled with passion and urgency.

You lost yourself in the moment, tangled in the heat and desire that enveloped you both. Every touch was electric, every sigh a plea for more. It was a collision of souls, a symphony of need and longing that resonated deep within your core.

As Jisung's fingers brushed against your skin, a spark ignited, sending shivers cascading down your spine. His touch was both gentle and insistent, a perfect blend of tenderness and urgency that made your heart race even faster. You could feel the weight of his passion, each caress igniting flames of desire that threatened to consume you whole.

He leaned in closer, his lips trailing along your jaw, whispering sweet nothings that made your breath hitch.

"I want you," he murmured, the raw need in his voice sending a thrill coursing through you. Those simple words were enough to send your mind spinning, a confirmation of everything you had ever dreamed about.

You craved more—more of his warmth, more of his touch, more of the connection that sparked between you like wildfire. Jisung's hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, igniting a fever that left you breathless. His fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to give him better access to your lips, and you melted into him, surrendering to the overwhelming need that pulsed between you.

“Please,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, as you pressed your body against his, desperate for the contact. The world around you faded into a blur, and all that existed was the heat of his body against yours, the intoxicating scent of him, and the electric charge in the air.

With every kiss, every touch, he pushed you closer to the edge, each moment stretching out as if time itself had surrendered to the intensity of your connection. You could feel the weight of his desire, palpable and raw, and it fueled your own, making you ache for him in ways you never thought possible.

“Let me show you how much I can be good for you,” Jisung breathed against your lips, his voice thick with longing.

Before you could reply, he pushed you back gently onto the bed. The cool sheets contrasted with the heat radiating from your body. Jisung climbed on top of you, his weight pinning you down comfortably as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a feverish kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, and you melted into him, returning the kiss with equal fervor.

He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, a predatory glint shining in his gaze. “hm, I got a pretty girl in my hands tonight didn’t I?” his chocky smile makes your heaad spin.

His lips traveled down your jawline, leaving a trail of fire as they descended toward your neck. He nipped at the sensitive skin, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. “You make the prettiest sounds,” he teased, licking a stripe from your collarbone up to your ear.

Your back arched in response, urging him to continue. His hand found the hem of your shirt, fingers teasingly brushing against your skin before he lifted the fabric, exposing your midriff. The cool air hit you, heightening your senses as he peppered kisses along your stomach, savoring every inch of you.

“Jisung…” you breathed, your voice thick with desire.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he pulled the shirt over your head, tossing it aside. He paused, taking a moment to admire you, his gaze heated and full of hunger.

“So beautiful,” he whispered before leaning down to press soft kisses between your breasts – in that moment, you can see affection in his sensual actions, almost seems like he takes his good time with you.

Each kiss sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you could feel your body responding to his every touch. His hands roamed, fingers brushing against your sides, teasing the edge of your bra before he slowly unclasped it. The garment fell away, and he wasted no time, his mouth moving to your sensitive nipples, swirling and sucking until you were a moaning mess beneath him.

“Jisung, please…” you begged, your body craving more of him, more of this electrifying connection.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. “I want you to feel everything,” he said, moving back up to capture your lips again. His hands worked on the button of your jeans, and with a swift tug, they were gone, leaving you in nothing but your panties, exposed and longing.

“Shh, just let me take care of you,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry, sending shivers down your spine. His fingers slid from your waist, trailing down your thighs, teasingly slow as they reached the waistband of your panties. He paused, looking into your eyes for permission, and you nodded, unable to form words.

With a smirk, he pulled your panties aside, exposing you to his gaze. “hot,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers danced over your folds, exploring, teasing, coaxing soft moans from your lips.

“Tell me what you want,” he commanded, his voice dripping with authority as he continued his ministrations, his fingers expertly circling your clit.

“I… I want you,” you gasped, the heat pooling in your core almost overwhelming.

“Good girl,” he said, his smile devilish as he lowered himself to the floor. You gasped as he pressed kisses along your thighs, his mouth tantalizingly close to where you needed him most. “Let me taste you.”

His words sent a wave of anticipation crashing over you, and all you could do was nod, gripping onto the edge of his bed as he finally dove in. His tongue flicked against you, drawing out a whimper as he explored your depths “Stay still,” he chuckled darkly, holding your hips down as he increased the intensity. “I want to hear you.”

With a wicked grin, he yanked your soaked panties completely off, tossing them aside. "Fuck, you're dripping," he growled, his hot breath fanning over your glistening pussy. His fingers delved between your folds, spreading your labia to fully expose your aching cunt. "Look at this pretty little clit, all swollen and begging for attention."

Jisung’s tongue dance against your clit, flicking and sucking with temptation, he worked you closer to the edge, he looked up, his eyes glinting with mischief and desire. “You taste so sweet. Don't hold back. I want to know how good I make you feel.”

Jisung's expert digits danced over your sensitive flesh, circling your throbbing nub before plunging two fingers deep inside your weeping hole. You cried out as he curled them, finding that perfect spot that made your toes curl. He pumped his fingers in and out of your clenching pussy.

With each flick of his tongue, the heat inside you spiraled, and you felt yourself teetering on the precipice of release. “Jisung… I’m so close,” you gasped, breathless.

“Just a little more, babe. Give yourself to me,” he urged, his mouth never stopping its delicious assault.

"I... I want your cock!" you moaned shamelessly, overcome by the burning need in your core.

"That's my good little slut," he purred, withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to his lips. He sucked your juices off each digit, savoring your taste. "But first, I'm going to devour this sweet cunt until you're screaming my name."

And then it happened—the wave crashed over you, pulling you under with a force that left you gasping for breath. You could barely comprehend the bliss as Jisung held you through your climax, his tongue continuing to coax every last ounce of pleasure from you.

Finally, as the tide receded, you collapsed back onto the bed, panting. Jisung joined you, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. “See? I told you I wanted you to feel everything.”

You turned to him, your heart still racing as you caught your breath. “You definitely delivered,” you replied, a smirk forming on your lips.

But he wasn’t done.

Not even a little bit.

Jisung's eyes darkened with renewed desire as he watched you catch your breath. Without warning, he grabbed your wrist and guided your hand to the prominent bulge straining against his jeans.

"Your turn," he growled, voice husky with need. "Show me what those pretty fingers can do."

You could feel the heat radiating through the denim as your palm pressed against his hardness. Slowly, teasingly, you began to trace the outline of his cock, relishing the way his breath hitched at your touch.

Your fingers deftly unbuttoned Jisung's jeans, slowly lowering the zipper. You could feel the heat of his arousal as you slipped your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his thick shaft. Jisung let out a low groan, his hips bucking slightly at your touch. "Fuck, your hand feels so good," he breathed, eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

You began to stroke him, marveling at how hard he felt in your grasp. Your thumb swirled over the sensitive head, spreading the bead of precum that had formed there. Jisung's breathing grew ragged as you continued your ministrations, alternating between long, slow strokes and quicker, teasing ones. "You like that, Ji?" you purred, enjoying the way he squirmed under your touch.

Jisung's response was a strangled moan as you tightened your grip slightly, twisting your wrist on the upstroke. His hands fisted in the sheets, chest heaving as he fought to maintain control. "It feels fucking amazing," he gasped. "But I need more. I need to feel those pretty lips wrapped around me."

With a wicked grin, you freed Jisung's throbbing cock from your grasp and planted yourself between his legs. You leaned in, running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, savoring the salty tang of his skin and precum before taking the head into your mouth.

Jisung's hands flew to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he groaned at the sensation of your warm mouth enveloping him. "Fuck yes, just like that," he encouraged, hips canting up involuntarily as you began to bob your head.

You took more of him inside, relaxing your throat to accommodate his girth. The musky flavor of his arousal filled your senses as you sucked harder, your hand fondled his taut abs. Jisung was lost in bliss, eyes rolling back as he ground himself against your face.

You could feel Jisung's cock throbbing against your tongue, his breathing growing more erratic as you worked him over. Your own arousal was building once again, the wetness between your thighs a testament to the pleasure he'd wrung from you earlier.

Deciding it was time to mix things up, you released his shaft with a pop and kissed my way back up Jisung's body. You nipped at his chin before capturing his lips in a searing kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth as you ground your soaked pussy against the bulge of his thigh.

Jisung broke the kiss, panting heavily as he gazed down at you with lust-clouded eyes. "God, I need to be inside you," he growled, voice raw with desire."I'm going to fuck you so hard."

With that promise hanging in the air, he flipped us over and positioned himself between your spread legs.

A giggle released of your lungs at the sudden movement, he chuckle darkly too, “having fun pretty?” He hums nibbling your jawline.

You nods making him smile.

Jisung's thick cock rubbed against your slick folds, the head nudging at your entrance as he looked down at you with a hungry gaze. "You ready for this, baby?" he purred, his voice low and rough with need.

You nodded again eagerly, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer. With a swift thrust of his hips, Jisung buried himself to the hilt inside you. A strangled moan tore from your throat as he stretched you open, filling every inch of your clenching cunt. "Fuck," Jisung groaned, eyes fluttering shut as he savored the feel of your pussy gripping him like a vice.

"So tight... Perfect." He began to move then, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside before slamming back in with enough force to bounce you up the bed.

The bed creaked beneath you as Jisung pistoned in and out of your sopping wet pussy, each powerful thrust driving him deeper. You could feel the head of his cock rubbing against that sensitive spot inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body with every pass.

"u-ugh..!" you cried out, nails digging into Jisung's back as he pounded into you like a man possessed. He obliged, increasing the pace until the room filled with the lewd slap of skin on skin and your wanton moans.

Jisung leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and nipping at it mercilessly as he continued to rut between your thighs. The added stimulation sent you hurtling towards another climax. "Oh god, I'm going to...!" Your words dissolved into a keening wail as orgasm crashed over you once more.

But Jisung wasn't done yet.

He rode out your climax, his cock still hammering into you as he chased his own release.

Your pussy spasmed around him, milking his shaft for all it was worth.Jisung groaned against your breast, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine.

"Gonna fill this sweet cunt up," he gritted out through clenched teeth. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and held there, pulsing as he pumped ropes of hot semen deep inside you.

You could feel every pulse of his cock as it painted your insides with his seed, the sensation prolonging your own aftershocks. Jisung collapsed on top of you, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He peppered kisses across your face before claiming your lips in a deep, satisfying kiss.

"hm," he murmured against your mouth when they finally parted. "liked it?”

You nods a little as you tried to keep your breath steady, “that was, unexpected,” you mumble as he moved from top of you, laying on the bed beside you. “but I still liked it.”

Jisung’s lips curled into a satisfied grin as he propped himself up on one elbow, his dark hair tousled and falling into his eyes. He reached out, tracing a gentle finger along the curve of your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I liked it too,” he teased, his voice low and warm, the playful glint in his eyes impossible to ignore. “Gotta keep things interesting, don’t I? otherwise my number one fan might goes somewhere else.”

You laughed softly, rolling onto your side to face him. “You definitely succeeded in that department,” you admitted, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “But now I’m wondering what other surprises you’re hiding.”

Jisung’s grin widened as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of tricks up my sleeve,” he whispered mischievously. “But you’ll have to wait to find out.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and he chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. Before you could respond, he tugged the blanket over both of you, wrapping an arm securely around your waist.

“Rest for now,” he said softly, his tone suddenly tender. “You’re gonna need your energy for whatever I’ve got planned next.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth of his embrace and the weight of his words leaving you with a mix of excitement and anticipation. As your breathing began to steady, you felt yourself melting into him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful calm.

The next morning, the sunlight streaming through the curtains woke you. You stirred, stretching your arms across the bed, expecting to feel the warmth of Jisung beside you. Instead, your hand met the cool, empty sheets.

Blinking, you sat up, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the fabric surrounding you. It was comforting and cruel all at once—a reminder that he had been there, but he was gone now.

Your gaze wandered around the room, your chest tightening when you spotted the note on the nightstand. The messy scrawl of his handwriting stood out on the folded piece of paper. You hesitated before picking it up, afraid of what it might say but needing to see it anyway.

Sorry I couldn’t stay. Early flight. Thanks for last night. You’re amazing. – J

That was it. Short, sweet, and heartbreakingly impersonal.

Your fingers trembled as you set the note down, staring at the space where he’d been just hours ago. The events of last night replayed in your mind—the way he’d held you, the way he’d kissed you like you were his whole world. And yet, now, it felt like you were nothing more than a fleeting moment, another name on the long list of people who drifted in and out of his life.

You pulled the sheets closer around you, as if they could somehow hold the pieces of your heart together. But they didn’t. They only smelled of him, a scent that would fade just as quickly as his presence had.

You had always known the truth—he belonged to the world, not to you. You were just someone he turned to for comfort in between the chaos, a temporary escape from the demanding life he led.

And yet, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Swallowing hard, you forced yourself out of bed, your feet heavy as they hit the floor. You needed to leave before the scent of him faded completely, before the memories turned from bittersweet to unbearable.

Because in the end, that’s all you’d ever be—a groupie in the background of his world, left behind as he chased the next city, the next stage, the next dream.

taglist: @inlovewithstraykids

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xoxoemynn · 1 year ago

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For OFMD Tumblr friends who want a S3 and are scared of Twitter

First, no judgment from me. I very much get it. I resisted Twitter for a long time, and even though I'm now a bit more comfortable on it, it's still not my Fandom Home. There are a TON of valid reasons not to be on Twitter, but if you REALLY want to keep OFMD visible right now and help its chances of returning for a third season, Twitter is the best place to do it. Like it or not, Twitter is still the best social media platform for raising awareness and for instant news updates.

Tumblr posts don't make headlines. Topics that have been trending on Twitter do. And if we want this show to come back, we need to make OFMD impossible to ignore.

By now you've probably seen just how close we came to a S3, and if you're like me, you are RAGING and donning your battle jacket. But I get it can be intimidating to get on Twitter for the first time, so I thought I'd address some common anxieties I see. I'll put below a cut because this got a bit long, but I promise it's a quick read.

I don't know what to say! Where do I even start? That's okay! You don't have to create your own tweets (although it's great if you do). Amplifying other people's posts is also important. Go ahead and like/retweet/reply to other people's posts. This may also help you get an idea of what you may like to say in your own tweets.

Hashtags...yes? Yes! Although don't use too many or you may get flagged as a bot. The biggest one that seems to be emerging is #SaveOFMD. Other popular ones are #RenewAsACrew, #RenewOurFlagMeansDeath, and of course, #OFMD and #OurFlagMeansDeath.

Should I just be tagging all the streaming services? Per @renewasacrew, no. It's counterproductive. You'll want to tag one streamer at a time and be specific. Below is an example of a tweet I made the other day -- use specific reasons why that that particular streamer may benefit from picking up OFMD.

I'm scared. People are mean. Yeah, people are mean. But I will say the vibes over at OFMD Twitter are currently the best I've ever seen them. People seem to have united for the greater good and are being overwhelmingly positive and just trying to do whatever we can to save the show. (That said, again, I already had a pretty curated feed, and was very liberal with blocking users/terms I didn't want to see, but I've been able to spend so much more time in the For You tab than I ever have without being jump scared by something.)

But I don't know anyone there! Wouldn't I just be shouting into the void? Not if you use the hashtags! Fans are being really good about following those and engaging with the tweets. Plus, [Stede voice], I'm your friend. I'm xoxoemynn over there as well, I'll follow you back and engage with any of your posts that I see. Plus, what's been REALLY lovely to see is that SO many lurkers have come out of lurkerdom to support the efforts, and they are being welcomed with open arms, so you will not be alone. Again, I am telling you, vibes? Best I've ever seen them.

I can't get sucked into another social media platform, I don't have the time. The beauty here is you don't need to spend a lot of time. I've been on Twitter more in the past week than I have in the entire year I've had an account, and I'm still only on for maybe an hour total the entire day? I open the app, I check a couple accounts, I engage with a handful of posts, and I close the app. It takes all of five minutes. It's an extremely small lift that can have a very big impact.

My bet is on Zaslav expecting us to be upset, and that there may be a day or two of outrage, but then we'd move on. I'm sure right now he's trying to convince everyone that this is a fluke, and that it'll blow over soon. Don't let him win. Keep OFMD in the news. Be loud (but polite) and make Max and other streamers take note of what a passionate, loyal fan base this show has. Make their stocks continue to drop. Make it clear this is NOT just a fluke, it is NOT business as usual. It's a BIG fuck up with lasting consequences.

Twitter, for all its sins, is the best place to do this.

Now let's get our damned show back.

#ofmd #our flag means death #renew as a crew #truly BELIEVE ME I get wanting to stay away!!#and if after we get picked up again you want to delete your account please go ahead and do that!#but this is a really easy and tangible way to show Max/other streamers #just how beloved the show is and how it would benefit them to save it #I love tumblr but it's not going to give us the kind of impact we want #it's for fans - not for external folks/key decision makers #ANYWAY I am by NO MEANS a twitter expert but I'm getting better #and I've seen some people be nervous about getting on the platform so I thought I'd try to help <3

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trancylovecraft · 1 year ago

Note

Since you do VERY dark subjects and such, do expect me to request for Mammon often LMAO

Okay so--

General HC's for Mammon with reader who is his GF?

(HELLUVA BOSS) YANDERE! MAMMON x GIRLFRIEND READER: Headcannons

RECEIPT ✂- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

BARISTA'S NOTE: EEEEEE! sorry this one took so long!! i'm happy you requested this cause AGHHHHH I LOVE THIS PINE TREE MAN!!! favourite character frfr. if you ever do request when open then PLEASE go as dark as you like, trust me, i enjoy writing it :D

FANDOM: Helluva Boss

Thank you for ordering!

Come again soon!

• Oooh! Intresting!

• I headcannon Mammon as a possessive, Manipulative and controlling kinda yandere. Mostly coming from his position as the King of greed.

• Especially once you’ve gotten in a relationship with him these traits are tenfold.

• Mammon views you as his possession, And a valuable one at that. You are his, He likes showing you off too as he brings you around his workplace and flaunting you like jewellery

• If anyone dares to touch what is his, Mammon would not hesitate to absolutely crush them. It doesn’t matter if its a creepy fan or a close family member. He doesn’t care, They’re getting obliterated.

• Mammon doesn’t show his care for you, Deeming it as unprofitable. But he does care even though he insults and berates you often, Even when it gets physical, He does love you.. He does! Don’t you realise this is all because he loves you..?

• He manipulates you into staying with him by promising you mountains of luxury. Whatever pleasures and desires you may want will be served on a silver spoon, Especially after a physical argument (Though you don’t know that its solely so you don’t leave)

• No one really knows how you two got together, One day you just showed up sitting next to him while watching one of his shows.

• You could’ve started out as a performer trying to get to the face of his brand, And Mammon, Somehow grew a liking for you more than just your monetary value.

• You could also have been a PR stunt, Him paying you to be his partner. Mammon, The King of Greed getting in a relationship? Preposterous! It would only drive more people to his shows just to see if they were true, Making more money.

• But he doesn’t know what attracted him to you. Maybe it was your cunning nature, Your lust for more and more. Or maybe it could’ve been your genuine creativity, A want to make out of passion and not pennies.

• Either way, You’re both in a relationship now, Hooray!

• Though the quality of your bond really depends on how you react to his rather unsavoury tendencies.

• If you’re fine with it/have Stockholm syndrome then its gonna be a much easier time with him.

• You’ll be taken out with him more, Mammon likes boasting about you and how much of prize you were to have as a girlfriend. He’ll tone down his insults to banter and the amount of gifts you get will be increased tenfold.

• Mammon enjoys taking you out on expensive dates, Restaurants in the lust ring with a bottle of their most fine wine being opened in your favour. It’s only on these dates you can really see Mammon have something of a soft side, Giving disguised compliments and maybe even a genuine smile or two.

• You’ll be much more free, Being able to roam around his place of living freely, Ability to go out shopping without him (But, With a good few bodyguards, That is) And the right to go do what you want.

• Though Mammon does dictate what you wear and will order you to come to certain events, You don’t mind as you believe you’re just spending time with the Christmas tree you call your boyfriend.

• Physical touch is also a big thing for him, Also being a display of ownership. An arm around you, You on his lap or simple goodbye kisses are all too common for the both of you.

• Its sweeter, Even though the glasses you buy are rose-tinted, You enjoy the nicer moments.

• However if you’re considered unruly, Actively don’t reciprocate his obsession and god forbid try to escape..

• You’ll be tossed into a cage, One of the carnival trailer ones where they keep animals. That's where you stay, Not his expensive condo. You won’t be spoiled with rich foods and pleasures beyond your imagination, Only being served with what the show dogs are being fed with.

• If you want to act like a bitch, You’ll be treated like one. That’s what Mammon thinks. He’s pissed that you don’t appreciate him for everything he’s given you! All the money he’s spent! You’re his girlfriend, Why the hell are you acting like this.

• You won’t be taken out, Not until you learn how to behave. Mammon still visits you daily, No sweetness in his voice as he insults you and breaks you down with your biggest insecurities. He wants to break you, Just so he can build you back up into the perfect partner, Both for his reputation and his own selfish desires.

• If this process takes too long then Mammon will get angry and ramp up his abuse, Resorting to beatings or even torture just to get your mind into a mouldable state.

• Mammon is a horrible yandere to have, If you couldn’t tell.

• Sometimes when he’s in a better mood, He might toss you his leftovers or actually give you a blanket to sleep with instead of the horse hay you were using. Though he really does care, This is more of a manipulative tactic to get you to act better in order to get more stuff.

• If you ever do give up and give into him, Mammon would be stoked. He’d treat you as if nothing ever happened while you just had the worst experience of your entire life.

• You’d be absolutely traumatised, Even though Mammon does feel only the tiniest bit guilty, He ignores it in favour of just forgetting that it ever happened.

• The only way I ever see you escaping him is if you have connections with any other of the kings, Especially the more powerful ones like Beelzebub. If they care enough or you have a certain relationship (Platonic or otherwise) they could probably bail you out, Secretly of course, You’re going into hell’s witness protection after this.

• Mammon would be pissed, Yelling and destroying everything around him as he demands his employees to find you. Basically having the biggest tantrum of his life.

• When he finds you with the money he bribed people with, It really depends if you do have a connection to one of the kings because if so that would stop him from taking you back. Leaving him to absolutely explode over what happened, Just fuming and scheming a way to get you back.

• If you don’t have a connection to one of the kings, Then he’ll drag you back to the greed ring screaming. He won’t hesitate to yell obscenities and break your legs, Throw you into the trailer cage and start the torture all over.

• But hey! What can you expect?

• This is the king of greed, Of course he’ll never let you go.

• Not for a very, VERY long time.

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

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akirathedramaqueen · 6 months ago

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Only one person has the power to make Stolas cry

And I'll keep the intrigue just a little bit longer so you can try to guess for yourself and experience the kind of satisfaction I had once I pieced it all together. And, oh boy, did it click!

Okay, so today, after a rather passionate conversation with @tealvenetianmask about how fandom seems to perceive Stolas as overly emotional and soft demon, we started rummaging through all the scenes where Stolas actually cried. We were blown off by some revelations.

First note: it's actually not much. Our owl appears to be very sturdy and often bites back when attacked, rather than shutting down as one might expect.

Second note... Better let me show you. Let's walk through all the 'Stolas cries' scenes and see what is happening there, and answer the question, "What, or rather who, sets him off the rails?"

This is your last chance to place your bets and educated guesses. Because below are big clues, and, eventually, answer.

Circus

We follow up on Stolas shortly after the disastrous date at Ozzie's - arguably, a couple of hours later. He looks absolutely miserable. He has boozed himself to unconsciousness. His eyeliner is ruined from earlier tears. He groans, either from headache or emotional turmoil, grabs three Happy pills, and shoves them down his throat.

Whatever happened at this club ruined our bird, to the point he's looking for anything to avoid being alone with his thoughts.

Western Energy

One shed tear. That's all Stolas allows himself. That's what I am talking about when I claim he is actually very tough. He is being tortured, mutilated, and by this point, he has a pretty good understanding that his demise is likely inevitable.

And you know what he does in response? He talks back. He cuts through Striker's bullshit about royals taking everything from him and points out that his killer took a contract from a royal. He literally humiliates Striker with sex jokes and mocks his oversized dick on the statue ego. Figuratively, he spits death in its face.

The Full Moon

Stolas is destroyed.

This meeting was nerve-wracking even before it happened - all the preparation, insecurities, misunderstandings of the past, and lingering, terrifying questions (He loves me? He loves me not?).

It takes weeks to set everything in motion. He planned it meticulously. He scripted every word, every movement of his body, every subtle tone in his voice.

But he forgot that there was another party in this play. The party who was not given the script and is burdened with his own trauma. One shitty assumption, one poorly-thought-out action, and here it is - mockery, avoidance, a fight... and tears. His first meltdown he wasn't able to conceal.

His worst nighmares came true, or so he convinced himself. He loves me not.

Apology Tour

Our last stop on our 'we-love-being-tortured-by-crying-Stolas' tour is here.

The wound is still fresh, bleeding even, and here he comes, rubbing salt into it. Someone Stolas still desperately wants. Someone who was infinitely brash, rude, and aggressive just this morning. Someone who doubled down on statements that made Stolas believe this particular someone hates him.

That someone tries to talk. To explain. To apologize. Wonders how Stolas could actually care about him. Says the prince is better off without him.

Fuck... The prince came here to forget, to wipe that someone (okay, it's getting increasingly hard to pretend it's not obvious yet) from his memory, at least for the night, and he still won't let Stolas go.

He breaks into tears, crushed, reassured he can't have anyone who would hold him, who would say he is the only one, but recuperates shortly after - he was taught better than this.

Okay, are we ready for the shocker of the year?

It's Blitzø.

It was his date with Blitzø at Ozzie's, where he was ignored, humiliated, and was told that their relatioship was only about sex, and that he was the one who made it clear.

It was Blitzø turning down (or so he thought) his distress call, leading him to believe he was left alone to die.

It was Blitzø mocking his confession and assuming it was just a fucking roleplay.

Finally, it was Blitzø haunting him since that very morning and, albeit with better intentions, still hurting him beyond his abilities to recover.

The only person who tore his soul apart enough to break his inpenetrable mask - built up by decades of gritted teeth, restraint, and bravery - was the one he probably cares about the most.

It was not Octavia, whom he holds close to his heart but couldn’t allow to see him depressed. He had to be strong for her; he needed to raise and support her.

It was not Stella, whom he endured for years, yet did not satisfy her wish to see him whimper. He talked back, argued, ignored, and seethed. But he never gave in.

It was him. An imp who stole his grimoire and gave him the best time of his life, however sad that may sound.

Now, thanks for joining this drama in four acts. You may pull out your handkerchiefs and ugly cry right here, in your places. Don't hold it in.

Because I don't.

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kaisfruit · 1 year ago

Note

Hiiii loved your first first about kai!

Could I request a one shot or headcanon about each of the ninja and how they would pleasure a fem!reader pls?

How they pleasure you | All ninja x fem!reader headcanons

a/n: omg tysm for my first ask <3 this is like,,one of the few times ive ever written nsfw so!! i hope its okay :3 also im gonna leave out lloyd cuz ik technically he's an adult but idk it's still a bit weird imo warnings: nsfw under the cut (duh),cunnilingus (cole, zane, nya) , slight size kink mention in cole's part, degradation in kai's part, inappropriate usage of elemental ability (jay), umm thats all i can think of im srry if i missed anything ^^

Cole

Ugh idec he's a big guy. is that a collective hc that the whole fandom can agree on? i think so

def uses that size to his advantage when y'all are alone together

I'm talking like MANHANDLING

only if u ask tho cuz cmon we all know he is such a caring guy he would always take your wants and boundaries into account

okay, my horrible down bad size kink out of the way-

mans has a big appetite (wink wink)

goes down on you like no other. like, he treats your pussy like it's breakfast, lunch, dinner, AND DESSERT babes

there would be no breaks with him. i cant say this enough, but he is eating you out like a man starved

overstimulation bound to happen srry i dont make the rules

he would NOT ask for anything in return

this man is the biggest giver when it comes to sex oh my lorddd

you're in charge but like he is if you know what i mean?

like he does what he knows you love, but on his own terms

ur in the bed and he's just instantly pinning you down yk using that strength of his, spreading your legs as far as the can go, and boom diving in head first

srry i could fill up like 3 posts of just cole eating you out im that passionate abt this topic

Kai

Plays with your pleasure like it's a damn toy

This man is the biggest tease ever

Though, his teasing does lean a bit towards minor body worshipping bc he's just everywhere

Marking you up with hickeys wherever he can get his damn mouth

Hands? can barely keep track of their movements. One second they're playing with your tits the next he's two fingers deep in your pussy

Let's just say he's taking his time here just to make the actual sex feel absolutely amazing on your end

But rlly it gets him going seeing you all whiny beneath him at his never ending touches

it's a win-win if you think about it

THAT DAMN MOUTH.

kai is not the guy for u if ur not down for a bit of degradation because DAMN

he has to come second place to jay in the yapping awards bc he's always saying smthn during the act

he pays attention though. listens or feels your reactions to every filthy thing he whispers to you.

absolutely ruins u for anyone else. gl w this man yall <3

Zane

He is so damn PRECISE??

Like, how does he know exactly how to touch you in that spot in order to get that reaction?

LOVES i mean like absolutely LOVES fingering you

being able to watch you come undone on just his fingers? god it is everything to him

will also add his tongue into the mix bc even tho hes a robot he cannot get enough of ur taste

just so calculated w every movement

bro made sex into a science 😭😭

tells you how good you're doing for him, how perfect you look, etc.

loves praising you bc it's the honest truth of how he feels about you

tbh 50% of the pleasure he gives u is from the pure love u can feel with every slight touch, every kiss, everything

soft dom vibes iykwim

REFUSES to even try to get himself off if he hasnt attended to you first

also an extreme giver like

he would get rid of entire body parts if it meant making u feel even better during sex

okay thats hyperbole but like

this nindroid has so much love in his robot heart for u and he needs u to KNOWWWW

Nya

A GIRL'S GIRL U ALREADY KNOW WHAT IT IS

she has all of these boys BEAT when it comes to pleasuring u bc of her same gender advantage

her head will stay in between your legs until you are absolutely SCREAMING her name

that fact fills her with immense amounts of pride btw

i see her as giving u a good mix of gentle and rough touches that like come together to make the most intense feeling ever??? if that makes sense

she's so good w her mouth like,,,everywhere

her favorite place to have her mouth is on ur pussy ofc, but she could also give a vampire a run for their money with how attached to ur neck she is

marks litter your neck

she's so good at finding that one little sweet spot that makes your body squirm

tends to multitask as well

like if she's currently a knuckle deep in your hole then you can also probably find her mouth licking and sucking at one of your nipples

everything she does to you is just so confusing in the best way possible

Jay

everything with him is just so fast-paced

he barely gives you any time to catch your breath in between anything

just one thing after another with jay

it mostly comes from his overzealous nature

your body makes him feel like a kid in a candy store im not even gonna lie. there's so much he could be doing he doesn't even know where to start

constantly talking. what did you expect from the motormouth himself?

half of it's mumbles of how gorgeous or how breathtaking you are and the other half is just downright filthy

honestly that second part would be such a turn on cuz u wouldn't have expected it from jay

the first time he used his element on you it was an accident

he didn't even realized it happened at first. he felt you jolt at the sensation and his first instinct was to apologize instantly, but he never even had a chance as he felt how you clenched down on his fingers and the moan u let out would forever be ingrained in his brain

from that point on, he's constantly looking for the best opportunity to let the smallest current just give a little tingle to your skin

jay really knows how to keep things interesting <3

#ninjago x reader #ninjago #ninjago headcanons #kai x reader #jay walker x reader #nya x reader #cole x reader #zane x reader #zane julien #jay walker #nya smith #kai smith #cole brookstone #nya jiang #kai jiang #jay x reader #fem reader

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worrynoodle · 7 months ago

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Okay. Now that I'm caught up, I would like to put in my two cents on this.

⚠️Warning, if the whole fandom panic thing stresses you out, please go ahead and skip this, but I tried to make it reassuring. There's no need to go worrying yourself over rumors and hearsay. ⚠️

For one thing, there's no amount of asking and pressure that is going to make any of the show creators reveal the ending. That isn't how tv shows work. You wait, you watch, you see. It also isn't fair for those of us who hate spoilers for them to constantly be asked for.

Two. I know that a lot of us on here are neurodivergent and have anxiety, and a HUGE part of that anxiety can be the unknown, especially about things we care very deeply for and identify with. This show and its characters hold a very special place in our hearts, and we fear not knowing the ending, especially with a big bang cliffhanger like s2e6. But please try to sit in that discomfort and allow yourself to feel your feelings without panicking.

Third, this story has been beloved for 30 years, yeah? Of course, OF COURSE, it's not going to be a bad ending! It's obviously something that all of the creators involved have been passionate about. Why on earth would it end badly? And all of them - Neil g, Terry p, the directors, the actors, the cast and crew, set and costume designers, the hair and makeup crew, ALL these wonderful people - put an unfathomable amount of care and thought into every aspect of the story.

Next, please, please, please try to remember the show on its own, right? All the details, all the scenes building Aziraphale and crowleys history individually and as a pair weren't put in there for no reason. Take what we actually see on screen and separate that from metas, theories, fanart, and fanfiction. We all love diving into what each detail could mean, but remember, it's all speculation until it concludes.

The story, what we have so far, is kind of a mostly completed puzzle. There's a lot of missing spaces, that's the season three bits. And right now we can't see the bigger picture but you have to remember that each piece of the puzzle was made by the people who painted the whole picture. Every piece that we have was made to fit with the whole story so once we have all the "season three pieces" they're going to fit right into place as they're supposed to.

And maybe, if you have very very high expectations - like very specific headcanons for how you think a perfect ending would look like - maybe it wouldn't be too bad to lower your expectations and open your mind to new possibilities. Ones that can be just as good!

So please, take a deep breath. Count to ten. Get your hot chocolate, your tartan blankets and comfy chairs, pull up some happy-ending fanfics and remember that it's all going to be alright. It's 2024 and this isn't Sherlock

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale x crowley #goodomens #michael sheen #aziracrow #david tennant #ineffable husbands #aziraphale good omens #lou's go s3 predictions #lou's original posts #lou's go theories

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lowkeyrobin · 11 months ago

Note

can you pretty please try doing reader who is a certified yapper 🗣‼️ but also has moments where they just get tired of talking and are dead silent for like 20 minutes straight and then go straight back to yapping 😼 sorry if its super specific lmao but i do this all the time

also could i maybe be 🦋 anon??

hello!! welcome to the family 🦋 anon! and yes ofc :) sorry if I misunderstood, kinda autopiloted to mcyt so sorry if you meant this for another fandom LMAO ; struggled to think of new thoughts so sorry for small cast of people 💀🙏

MCYT ; certified yapper

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, quackity, & nihachu

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

he does the same thing

will rant about anything and everything especially if you're talking about the same thing

but if it's out of the blue like "omg look at this tik tok drama blah blah blah" he just blinks before he's like "oh shit. here we go again"

then you just stop talking after a moment and gets weirdly uneasy with the silence

"can you talk more?"

"about what??"

he just shrugs "I like when you yap away, you're nice background noise"

you dramatically scoff "Okay, asshole"

you're silent for a while and just start revving up the engine again "Holy shit here's another thing, this girl-"

RANBOO

nods along and actually listens

dude doesn't care, they're listening to you no matter what

whether it be about serious topics or some silly internet stuff you like, he'll always listen and make sure to note it down that way he can start a conversation with you about something you like or are passionate about

"yknow what I like about the nether?"

"what?" he smiles

"how pretty and diverse it is. yeah you can say the overworld is just as if not more diverse with biomes and stuff, but they could've just left it boring red netherrack everywhere you go and stuff, it adds so much more life-"

they love how passionate about things you can be

if for a very extended period of time, they'll check up on you like "you good?"

you just nod like "I'm tired of talking L"

BADLINU

nods along with you

he doesn't see it as yapping, he sees it as a genuine conversation no matter what you're talking about

adds some stuff in when you like pause to breathe

once you go quiet he can just sit in silence with you forever

this is basically his opportunity to talk to you about like tik tok drama lmao

if you don't know about it at all, all ears open and you're focused

your dynamic 🔛🔝

QUACKITY

you're both yappers let's be honest

constantly talking over each other and play fighting for the most attention out of other people 💀💀

"SHUT THE HELL UP I'M TALKING"

"I WAS TALKING FIRST, LET ME TELL THEM ABOUT MY NEW FAVORITE MOVIE"

then you just get tired of talking and wanna strip mine or something LMFAO

he always checks to make sure he didn't upset you after every time you go silent

it's just by reflex lmao

he does listen to you when you yap about a fixation don't worry

gift inspo goes crazy

NIHACHU

loves when you talk or yap about something you like or some drama you found

she's like your safe person to talk about everything to, she loves having that kind of title for you

"and then xyz"

"Oh my God, really??"

she'll whole ass put everything down just to listen to you talk about dumb shit I swear

she encourages it, like just speak your mind dude

also uses what you talk about as gift inspiration for anything, birthday, valentines day, anytime she wants to get you stuff

half the time you forget what you just said and she recaps you

"Oh, thank you! anyways-"

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #tommyinnit x reader #ranboo x reader #quackity x reader #badlinu x reader #nihachu x reader #niki nihachu x reader #freddie badlinu x reader #🦋 anon

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cursingtoji · 11 months ago

Note

🎙️ just saw your post asking about blog recs…step up to the stage bc i need some!!!!

BLOGS RECOMMENDATION <3

— mostly jjk, but also chainsaw man and aot

*taping the mic* okay here are my nominees with some fics recomendations as well

disclaimers!

lemme start saying so plot is everything to me, pwp can be hot but i'll hardly remember it afterwards, that being said here's some writers that can do both great plots and hot scenes.

also while digging i realize i wasn’t following some of those and if you noticed im sorry im dumb but i truly love your writing.

i tried to tag every active blog i could remember but it’s possible i forgot a few since i’ve been reading more jjk recently. if i forgot you im so sorry please don’t take offense.

many blogs i loved were deactivated, rest in piece great works they had.

everything i read i reblog under the tag #recs

@thekillingmoonmoon ofc moon is the first one i think when the topic "best writers" come up, i freaking love her and everything she does its not even fair to pick one thing so im picking 3, this super passionate toji work that i re-read at an alarming frequency (which btw i consider my own personal gift). yakuza choso and yuki aka the hottest duo ever. the cherry on top is her kishibe series (just realized i gotta catch up on)

@rinhaler - luxe is def on my top 3, she comes up with very organic scenes. even if it's a simple plot she can develop it so originally. I recently read her underground fighter!sukuna and i'm still thinking about it.

@laudthingcat has the best headcanons in the jjk fandom hands down, it’s the perfect dose of hot funny and cute, pick anything from her masterlist it’s guaranteed you’ll have a good time reading it. when you moan their name in your sleep in particular gives me butterflies

@meownotgood is obviously the best aki writer out there, you can see the love for aki in their words and how they write him so well and so into character. arrival in tokyo is truly a masterpiece, they also have a +100k words series i've been wanting to read for a while but i want to rewatch chainsaw man first hehe, i'm 100% sure is fire tho.

@kentoangel roma writes choso like she's in love with him and you can tell. shes always on my for you and even her snippets are *chefs kiss* special kudos to stepbrother!choso

@kentopedia i just realized i'm assigning a writer per character and nanami is definitely rylie's. the domestic lovely way she writes him makes me forget canon.

@tojisun another blog that is very often on my for you page. cannot talk about toji fics without bringing up sun, everything she writes about him has me furiously nodding. not to mention simon and konig, just talking about them makes me wanna run to her blog and binge read everything

@chocochipsushi 's bodyguard toji is unforgetable to me, i wish i lost my memory so i could read it all again for the first time. bodyguard toji is the definition of living rent free in my mind, whenever i have to deal with annoying coworkers i immediately think “bodyguard toji would not allow them to talk to me like that”

@suget one of the greatest geto writers for sure, they have so many geto works, i was going through their blog to find the one i read more recently and there was so many others i haven’t seen! another writer i could very easily spend a whole day binge reading. btw this cult leader one was recommended to me and i fell in love with it <3

@staryukis has the cutest gojo drabbles

@tonycries brooklin baby was recommended to me by moon and it had me by the neck! also they have many other works im hoping to read soon as well

@mommypieck isayama created reiner but they created subby reiner

@titan-fodder ‘s the tinniest notion The Best Reiner fic in all the existence of the universe (tw: stepcest kinda?)

@nanaslutt mma!toji made feel every emotion possible so intensely

#jjk x reader #yes i’m adding the tag cause i think everyone should visit those blogs kay #recs #— mailbox 💌

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muzzlemouths · 28 days ago

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I JSUT SAW THE DIR CUT THING EXPLODES okay okay i have so much i wanna ask(mostly related to the polls im sorry its so interesting of a mechanic) . ! - FIRST did you originally plan on the fic to be poll based or was it a later decision? - did we as a collective ever make any/a ddecision you were genuinely surprised about? any big things you had/(have? 👀) in mind only for us to totally dash your hopes and dreams? - are any of the counselors ones you're sad died? who has been the most disappointing for you so far? (who were you hoping would survive?) - if you could give us a rating 1-10 or so, how well would you say we've done so far? (personally id give it a B ish..) - Aside from Chet, could we have saved everyone? (also because im a sucker for feels, were any of the kids who died personal hits for sun/moon? any close bonds that were cut?)

⭐️ Director's Cut ask game

Did you originally plan on the fic to be poll based or was it a later decision?

I wanted it to be poll based from the start! I first came up with the idea last October, but I was originally going to do it similar to OWRF. Within that year, however, I realized that using polls would streamline the process and make it much easier on me, which is fantastic, because writing OWRF with the initial Choose Your Own Story mechanic I'd been using felt like trying to control a derailing train at all times.

Did we as a collective ever make any/a ddecision you were genuinely surprised about? any big things you had/(have? 👀) in mind only for us to totally dash your hopes and dreams?

All of them. I need y'all to understand I had to sit down and rewrite a solid chunk of my outline because I had set it up/started writing certain scenes under the assumption that that's the route/decision we'd be pursuing, but time and time again, everyone surprised me.

I wasn't expecting y'all to save Dolly (much less be so passionate about turning this into an Everyone Lives run), I wasn't expecting you to trust Moon (though in hindsight, I should have known. This is their fandom we're in after all), and I definitely wasn't expecting this last decision to be such a tight race.

Complete transparency here, I had fully anticipated that the majority vote would be to Agree(lie), and I had to scramble to rearrange some pieces of the outline when it became glaringly obvious that lying was the last thing any of you wanted to do. I'm grateful for it, though.

I said it before and I'll say it again: the y/n of this story changes with each decision made. They have some set personality traits, sure, but most of it is entirely determined by you, the readers. Seeing the votes flood in — with lying as the least popular opinion — not only surprised me but gave me a much needed reality check on where our y/n stands, which in turn allowed me to scrap the original first page of what happened next in favor of writing something that is reflective of the decision, and I am much happier with it now. Proud of you guys.

Are any of the counselors ones you're sad died? who has been the most disappointing for you so far? (who were you hoping would survive?)

Man. Man. Had you asked me my opinion on Chet at the beginning of writing this fic I'd have read the guy to filth. But now? Regretfully I am beginning to like him. I'm almost upset that I'd made the decision to make his death inevitable, but so much hinges on it, so it was a necessary sacrifice. (Also, I'm supposed to remain unbiased about these things, but if you guys get Oscar killed I will cry and cry)

If you could give us a rating 1-10 or so, how well would you say we've done so far? (personally id give it a B ish..)

Considering we're currently on what I consider the best route? I'd say you're doing pretty damn well! There hasn't been a single vote thus far that leads to the bad route, and the results of the most recent poll have officially locked us out of the bad route entirely. I am clapping and cheering for you!!!! congrats!!! 🎉

Aside from Chet, could we have saved everyone?

You could, and you still can! But Oscar isn't the only life you will need to save.

#DFtR au #I have A LOT to say about that last question (about the kids)#so expect that in a separate reblog later

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doodler16 · 14 days ago

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i hope this is okay to say here, as i do feel like you're one of the few chill and genuinely non rude but absolutely valid critics of the hellahazbin verse.

I see both sides of critism and just having fun with it. I am one of the few folks that genuinely DO critize it, but in the back of my mind or reblog what i can but i do not go out of my way for it.

With all fandoms, for me its always about the GOOD parts of the fandom, the art, the fics sometimes, the headcanons , the AUs, ( and the good critism or just an analysis in general ).

With both Hazbin and Helluva.. i just. I don't hate the fandom too much other than the hardcore stans who hurt people. But sometimes i feel like the critics and the stans are TOO harsh.

Like i have a "secret" hazbin/helluva blog because thats how hated Viv / Hazbin / Helluva is. It makes me feel bad? And i don't think people should feel bad for enjoying some bits from shitty media.

I don't really like Viv, i just really like some aspects of the shows and SOME of her art.

I don't really know how to word this so i apologize if comes across as "i enjoy this shit show and i blindly watch it" or "oh woe is me i like a bad thing and I'm out casted". I don't really mean it like that either?

I DO see it happen with other shows ( Netflix She Ra for example, for a bit if you liked it you were bad, if you hated it you were bad ???? Its no where near the same has Hazbin or Helluva. ).

But like also i know I'm a hypocrite because i think its really weird for people to like South Park.

You good, Anon. Don’t worry. You should never feel bad or apologize for watching Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss. You aren’t the spawn of Satan for enjoying it. If you like both shows, that’s great! Enjoy yourself while you can, make fanart, interact and discuss with the community. Depending on what platform you are on, I think you should embrace it.

Nobody in this fandom is responsible for Vivziepop’s behavior besides herself. Like you said there is good in the community and there is. Many talented, creative artists and writers in this fandom and they still blow my mind (in a good way) till this day. Don’t hide your love or passion for a show just because a creator is being a poopie head or the some people in the standom are being overkill.

#vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #anonymous #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism

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robinofinashiro · 1 year ago

Text

prompt: “it's okay, you can touch me. i won't break."

characters/fandom: giorno giovanna x reader / jojos bizarre adventure

status/note: sometimes i listen to dumbass music while writing and was hearing the can-can so i guess that song inspired this fic for absolutely no damn reason LMAO bc it makes absolutely no sense lmao

pronouns used: she/her and afab!

giorno had heard of you. you were the newest recruit into passione and damn did he hear the stories that trailed behind you. it wasn't that you were notorious for murdering people or anything but this sudden personality that sprung into the gang made him wonder how the hell you got tied into this lifestyle.

much like narancia, you were very loud, extremely extroverted at times, and even went out to seek thrills if you were feeling bored enough. all of this was brought to him by bruno who was informing him the new girls arrival.

he was away on mafia business on bruno's behalf for what felt like ages, so he knew he had to return back to Italy to see for himself. he knew the gang could use its silly moments especially if the situation called for it. he figured you, narancia, and mista were getting along way too well for abba's liking.

once he touched down in Italy, he had narancia and fugo waiting for him with his black car. he said his hello's to the two boys as they filled him on what he missed while he was gone.

"oh, and the new girl, she's so awesome!" narancia exclaimed. giorno's ears perked up in sudden interest, "she's from mexico i think but she grew up here but her spanish is so cool! plus, she makes good food!" giorno laughed at how fast narancia was talking.

he figured he must've been stuck to your side for a while if he knew this much by now. usually narancia wasn't one to know this much about others so giorno wondered how open you were about your life.

once they arrived, giorno made his way to his office to situate his things before heading to greet everyone. he had to file a few things and inform bruno about the specifics of his trip before he could think of relaxing even the tiniest bit but once he did, he made his way to the living area.

he saw the back of your hair as he saw you talking rather loudly with mista. the two of you were talking about some soccer match that had happened over the weekend as he made his way to the coffee area to make himself a cup.

you were still arguing with mista when he looked up and saw giorno, "hey, you're back!" he exclaimed. your eyebrows fluttered in confusion when you looked up to see who he was talking to, "this is ( your name )," mista said as giorno finally looked at the two of you.

giorno stared at you for a moment before composing himself, "giorno," he mumbled, his voice not as confident as it usually is. you gave giorno a bright smile, a part of him immediately wondering how the hell you wrapped yourself up into a lifestyle like this, "( your name ), nice to meet you don giovanna," you said excitedly.

giorno didn't know how to respond besides shaking your hand. you instantly went back to speaking to mista who was now smirking at his friend.

mista was able to read his boss like the back of his hand.

"gio-gio! we need to go like right now!" you said stomping your foot impatiently. the blond rolled his eyes but obliged. you were waiting for him as the two of you were now disguised in the outfits that demanded the two of you to enter a very prestige venue.

the rest of passione had gotten a head start but you had taken such a long time to get ready that once you were done, giorno had been in the midst of doing something else. he hadn't been able to look at your outfit or how well dressed you were.

giorno's eyes widened when he finally saw the outfit you had on. you were wearing a black dress that fitted your curves way too nicely. your hair was pulled back and pin straight, "does this look okay? i feel like i'm under dressed," you muttered to him.

he shook his head, dismissing the idea immediately as the two of you entered the car. the driver that was assigned to the both of you opened the door as he couldn't help but sneak a peek at you from behind. giorno immediately gave the man a look which made him shiver in fright.

it wasn't a secret to anyone that the don of passione had fell for the new recruit and although it had been months since your initial meeting, giorno still hadn't grown to the idea of formally asking you out and it didn't seem like you had any idea that he was interested in you. for a moment, giorno thought you were into abba as you were always by his side.

he was lucky that his stand hadn't manifested itself to be affectionate towards your own stand yet but he knew that if he didn't admit to his feelings soon, his stand was going to do it for him and that was the last thing he wanted.

once the two of you arrived to the venue, you saw many familiar faces. they belonged to those who you called allies and even friends. this dinner was a sort of meeting between allies and what could be done to secure the future of all of your gangs.

what had surprised you on the other hand was how surprised everyone was when they saw you walking out with giorno. they had never seen the don with someone let alone someone as gorgeous and beautiful as you.

you were immediately given a glass of wine as you started to speak to trish and narancia. bruno and giorno were off on business as you were basically told to look pretty and try to not cause a ruckus with narancia which bruno knew was hard for the two of you to do.

as bruno and giorno were away from everyone, bruno could see the longing gaze that giorno had for you, "even people like us deserve love, even if it feels like we shouldn't. i've seen the looks you've made towards her since the day you met her and i think it's time you make a move before someone else does it," giorno knew he was speaking about abba who seemed to have some sort of feelings towards you as well.

the night continued on as you felt giorno's stare at you. you weren't an idiot after all. although you and narancia constantly gave off dumbass energy on the daily, you were also a girl. a girl who could tell when a man was staring at you and seemed to do that a lot lately.

you shot the blond a smile and made your way towards him as he composed himself. his heart was racing a mile a minute as you stood in front of him.

"what has you looking so serious don giovanna," he chuckled at the formal name as he finally stepped forward and let himself make the move he had been holding back for so long.

"it's okay, you can touch me, i won't break," you murmured to him. he smiled as he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him. his hand found your lower back as your arms wrapped around his neck, "i am a mafia member after all," you joked.

giorno shook his head, "thank you for accepting this dance, i can tell many wish they were in my position at the moment," you rolled your eyes in slight annoyance, "i can tell but there's only one person allowed to even be this close to me at the moment and that's you," you whispered.

the two of you kept brushing your lips against each others until giorno finally deepened the kiss. you returned the kiss with the same energy as you ran your fingers through his slightly curled hair.

"and i better be the only one allowed to kiss you this way," giorno muttered, his slight dominance finally showing. you hummed in agreement, "the one and only don."

#jjba part five #jojos bizarre adventure #giorno giovanna imagine #giorno giovanna x reader #anime #anime imagines #anime imagine #jjba imagine #jjba x reader

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 1 year ago

Text

The Artist and the Builder [a Joel x reader fic]

Read on Ao3

Sequel: All The Fear and the Fire of the End of the World

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/artist!reader who is his age and has arthritis and allergies.

Tags/warnings: Bit of pining, Joel is sweet and settling in, reader has joint pain and allergies, kissing, pretty tame foreplay, a little fumbling, teasing, insertion of objects into vagina that probably shouldn't be there but it's the apocalypse there ain't no dildos, vaginal orgasm, Joel is Too Big and also has Bad Knees, piv sex, cuddling, artist stuff listen I don't know how to do this anymore.

Summary: Gruff contractor Joel Miller has been in Jackson for a while and up until now, you thought he didn't like you because you're an artist and who the hell needs art in the post-apocaypse? But you are wrong.

Words: 7,139

A/N: Listen I know absolutely nothing about being an artist, sorry about that. I also don't have allergies or arthritis (although I suspect I am going down that road but let's cross that bridge when we get there). I just want Joel to be soft with someone his age whose body is falling apart. Many many thanks to @pazizz and @rambling-in-purple who helped me with this one. It started as one thing but ended something else. I really appreciate the help along the way <3

My masterlist

The ache protrudes harshly into your dreams and tears you away from sleep way before it’s time to get up. It grows stronger as you come to, and you carefully try to open your hands. Each joint is like a rusty hinge that creaks and whines when moved, and you sigh deeply as you hide your hands in opposite armpits in an attempt to warm them up. Your mother had arthritis and would tell you in a bland voice that you’d probably get it, too. She had it, her mother had it, and so on. But that seemed so far away, you had your whole life ahead of you, and you had just settled down and started to live after your crazy twenties when the outbreak happened, and survival became your only goal. Despite it all, you managed to live for twenty more years, and then got slapped with the family curse.

Closing your hands around a mug of hot tea, you walk around the living-room of your small house and inspect your various half-finished projects: paper made of plants, clay paint, painted mugs. The whole house smells like a compost, so you open a window to let in a cool breeze. You immediately feel it in your aching hands but do your best to ignore it.

Sitting down at your drawing table, you pick up the charcoal and sketch a couple of lines to the profile you’re working on. It doesn’t feel right, however, so you put down the charcoal again. Restless, you sip some tea, your foot tapping against the floor.

Eventually, you have to go to the infirmary, where Robert, Jackson’s doctor, already is treating his first patient of the day.

You like Robert, like being of use, but being a nurse isn’t what you wanted. You trained to be one, yes, and worked as one for years because it felt like a good, honest profession, and your parents insisted. At nearly 30, however, you quit, and went back to school to pursue your true calling: art. You had almost finished your education when the world went to shit, and your passion no longer counted for anything. For the past twenty years, you’ve thrown yourself after art supplies like other people after food, but even paper is becoming harder to come by. Hence your experiments using plants.

“Your hands bothering you?” Robert asks around lunch, and you nod silently. You haven’t said anything, but he notices.

“Take the rest of the day off.”

“I’m good.”

“Just go, okay? I can’t give you anything for the pain, but I can give you the day off.”

You accept gratefully, and as you change into your normal clothes, you decide to go check at the latest construction site if there’s any sawdust to be had.

You hear the promising sound of a saw working its way through wood as you get closer to the latest house being erected, and when you reach it, Joel Miller looks up from the sawhorse and straightens his back. You think you see a grimace flash across his face, but then he carefully rearranges his features into the usual scowl.

Joel’s been in Jackson for a while now. You don’t really know much about him, except for what you’ve heard from others: that he walked across the country from Boston with the girl in search of his brother, and when the place where he was supposed to drop off the girl was destroyed, they both came back here. He seems to have settled well, and he’s handy, so he’s a welcome addition. He doesn’t really seem to understand your needs, though: when you first asked him if he could save some sawdust for your papermaking, he scoffed when he learned that you needed the paper for art. You bit back on an acid remark. Art wasn’t valued very highly in this world, but it’s what made you happy, and you didn’t care what someone like Joel fucking Miller thought.

“Hi,” you say, stopping in front of the sawhorse. “You got something for me?”

He wipes his forehead on his sleeve and nods towards the wall of the house he’s building. There are three buckets by it, and you see that two of them are filled with yellow sawdust, the third one with nettle leaves. Puzzled, you look over at him. You can’t really figure him out.

“What’s this?”

“Ellie said you were looking for nettles in the vegetable patches,” he mutters. “Passed by a bunch of them on patrol yesterday.”

You chew on your lower lip as you process the unexpected kindness.

“Thank you,” you eventually say. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Joel picks up the saw again and goes back to working on shortening the board propped on the sawhorse. The woodsy scent of sawdust fills your nostrils, and you catch a whiff of sweat from Joel, despite the cool weather.

The buckets are proving difficult to pick up. Your fingers refuse to curl around the handles, and even if the weight is more than manageable, your hands are just not having it today. You swallow hard, embarrassed by your frailty, when Joel steps up behind you.

“I’ll take those.”

Big hands close around the handles of the sawdust buckets. You pick up the nettle bucket and start to walk towards your house. Joel walks alongside you, silent and avoiding looking at you just as you are stubbornly staring in any direction but his.

“I have arthritis,” you finally tell him, naming your disease with disgust dripping from your tongue. “My hands don’t work so well some days.”

“That’s rough,” he offers. “I used to have a neighbor who had that. Sorry.”

You finally venture a glance at him. His features offer nothing of what’s going on behind those dark brown eyes.

You arrive at your house, and Joel carries in the buckets for you. You see from how his nostrils flare that he wasn’t prepared for the earthy smell of your home.

“Just put them down there,” you ask him, gesturing to him. Joel does that and is left standing in the doorway to your living-room. He looks around at your various half-finished projects, the pictures on the walls, all your attempts at creating art with whatever materials you've been able to get your aching hands on.

You pretend to busy yourself with washing your hands, but you're really watching him. You've seen this before: people who don't care about art seeing art in a whole new way for the first time. They're always slammed in the face with it, and it's a very delicate moment that shouldn't be disturbed. So you busy yourself at the sink, rinse out your cup despite it being close to clean already, warm up your hands some more with water, open the cupboards and rearrange things. Joel disappears into the living-room, his heavy, unfamiliar boots causing the floorboards to complain about every step he takes. You hear him walk around slowly, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quietly, you walk over to the doorway to sneak a peek at him.

He's standing by your desk, holding up a paper with a half-finished sketch. To your horror, the picture is of him, the one that you just can't get right because you can't figure him out, can't combine his threatening glower with the warm smile he reserves for his close ones.

You almost dash across the floor and snatch the paper from his hands before throwing it down on the desk, picture down.

"That's not finished, I mean, it's not... you weren't supposed to see it."

"It's good," Joel states simply. You glance at him as you mindlessly rearrange the sketches on your desk.

"Thanks."

His stare is piercing and hard to meet, so you cast down your eyes to a sketch of Ellie right in front of you. Joel follows your gaze and sees it.

"Can I see that?"

You bite your lower lip, pick up the sketch and hand it to him. You're happier with this one: Ellie's face is open, honest. She talks, questions, comments. You've barely heard ten words in all from Joel, and he's been around for months.

"You really captured her," he admires you. "Did she pose for this?"

"No," you shake your head, "but I've worked together with her occasionally. It's easier to draw someone when you know how they move and talk and such."

He hums in agreement as he studies the picture.

"Is that why you haven't finished my picture?" he eventually asks, catching you off guard. "Because you haven't spent time with me?"

"Probably," you shrug, and hold up your hand for him to relinquish the picture back to you. He does, and the line between his brows seems to melt away when he asks you if you'd want to finish his portrait.

"I can come by tonight after work."

You meet his soft gaze and nod.

"Yeah, okay."

///

You're in the middle of dipping your paper molds into a tub of pulp and putting them to dry when there's a knock on the door. You call out a "come in" as you wash your hands under water as hot as you can manage. Not good at staying passive, you've strained your hands all day continuing with your experiments.

Joel steps in, eyeing the room immediately before settling his nut-brown gaze on you.

"How are your hands?" he wants to know. You shrug.

"The same."

You reach for your jacket, and Joel grunts questioningly. You raise a brow at him.

"Are we going out?"

"I need fresh air."

"It does smell in here." A grin flashes by his face, almost shocking you. Was that a joke?

"Sorry," he immediately apologizes, taking your silence for chagrin. You smile wryly.

"Don't worry. It really is smelly, I just don't notice anymore."

You leave your house together and start walking slowly down the street. The evening is cold in a refreshing way, and you hide your gloved hands in your pockets, both to keep them warm and to keep them occupied. Keeping your eyes trained on some invisible spot in the distance, you try to figure out something to say. It doesn't feel like you and Joel have a lot in common, and all those old icebreakers of "where are you from" and "do you have a family" can be sensitive in this world. You opt for something you do know about him.

"Did you build houses before?"

He takes a second to answer, but finally tells you that he was indeed a contractor.

"Always good to know how to build things," you comment. Joel hums in agreement before clearing his throat.

"And you? You usually work in the infirmary."

"I was a nurse, but I didn't like it much," you tell him. "I went back to school to study art, but the breakout happened before I finished. And nobody needs art to survive. So I work as a nurse."

Joel doesn't say anything, but nods to a passer-by.

"Do you like being a contractor?" you ask. Once again, he takes a little time before presenting his answer.

"I do."

"Good, honest work, huh?"

"Something like that. And..." He hesitates, gaze flickering when you turn your head to look at him.

"It's nice to build something instead of destroying it," he finally mutters. You nod slowly.

"Yes. Yes, it is."

Without hurry, you walk around Jackson three times while talking. Joel is a man of few words, but the words he does utter are well chosen and sometimes heavy with information. He talks about his former construction work but doesn't utter one word about his personal life, possible family, likely loss. His voice is warm when he talks about Ellie, the teenager he delivered across the country, only to find that the people who were supposed to take care of her were already dead and buried. There is a momentary crack in his facade when he talks about his failed mission to bring Ellie to Salt Lake City, but he quickly gathers himself, and states that that's how both ended up in Jackson. He seems happy enough with those turns of events.

You tell him about your art education, about how you ever since you were a young child have seemed to notice how light falls on objects, faces, your surroundings, and the deep-seated urge to draw the light, paint it, trace is with a brush in futile attempts to replicate the magic. The light changes everything, how the world is viewed, and you're constantly trying to capture those moments when the light renders a common kitchen utensil magical, just because the first rays of morning sunshine catch the curves and angles of it. You're not sure he understands, but he does listen.

Eventually, you stop outside your house, facing each other. Darkness has fallen and you didn't leave the porch light on, so you struggle to see his face in what little light there is to be had from the moon, and the glow from the windows of the neighboring houses.

"It was nice talking to you," you say sincerely.

"You too."

You hide your hands in the opposite armpits in an attempt to keep them warm. The cold is getting to them, even with gloves.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

Joel blinks.

"You're not going to draw me?"

"It's too dark."

"Ah." You hear from his tone that he just realized that you've been talking about light this whole time. His head shifts on top of that long, strong neck, his face turns a little to the side and you catch the profile of his aquiline nose against the faint light coming from the neighbor's house.

And you know you have to try to draw him like this, half cloaked in darkness, the bridge of his nose sharp against soft light, maybe from a fire, the shadows painting dark valleys on his face with his frown, the glint of grey in his beard, a lock of hair curling by his ear.

"Maybe not," you correct yourself and step past his towards your porch. "Come on in."

You load up the fireplace, your hands only trembling slightly from the weight of the wood. Joel kneels next to you by the fireplace and takes the matches from you. A protest rests on the tip of your tongue, but the brief touch of his warm, callused hand makes you swallow it. You stand up and watch him light the fire, breathe life into the kindling, and carefully place smaller twigs on the first, small flames before rocking back to watch the fire grow. You move your weight from one foot to the other, tuck your hands into your pockets. Joel glances up at your fidgeting.

"Your hands hurtin'?"

"It's the cold," you shrug. "But it's fine, it's not that bad."

You take a step back, towards the kitchen.

"Want a cup of tea?"

"Sure. Thanks."

When you return with two mugs of steaming tea, the fire is crackling merrily. Joel rises, joints popping, and accepts one mug from you with one hand, the other suddenly taking a gentle hold of your wrist. You twitch, the tea spills over a little, but you don't pull back your hand. Slowly, Joel covers it with his big, broad palm, so much warmer than yours, and you almost instantly feel the heat spread into your aching joints.

When you search his averted gaze, he releases your hand, and clears his throat.

"Thanks for the tea," he murmurs, and you nod quickly.

"You're welcome."

You busy yourself with emptying the run-down armchair from various knick-knacks and tools, and indicate the seat for him. Carefully, as if afraid to break it, Joel sits down. You pull up the desk chair and take a piece of charcoal and a paper, propping it on your lap with a sheet of cardboard under.

"You're not going to continue with the half-finished picture?" Joel asks, sipping his tea.

"No," you shake your head. "It's not how I want to draw you."

"Waste of paper."

"I'll use it to make more. It's okay."

He grunts, and you hide your smile without knowing why you're even smiling in the first place.

"Turn your head a little towards the fireplace," you instruct, and Joel squares his shoulders, as if he's unhappy about being told what to do. However, he does as he's asked, and follows the rest of your directions easily. When you're happy with his angles, you put coal to paper, and start to sketch.

For a long time, the only sound heard is that of the fire, and the soft scratch of the coal against the coarse paper. Your sharp eyes note every hair, pore, and line on Joel's face, but you're finding it hard to transfer them to paper. After a long day, your hands are hurting bad, and the pain keeps shifting your focus away from the task at hand. Finally, you sigh deeply and turn the paper upside down.

"I'm done."

"It's finished?" Joel asks, shifting like he's sitting back and leaning forward at the same time. One brow is quirked inquisitively, while his tight jawline lets you know that he doesn't really want to see the result - but he's curious.

"No," you specify as you get up, "it's not finished. I have to start over, but it's getting late."

Your fingers can barely let go of the coal when you set it down together with the paper. You hide your knuckle in the palm of your other hand and rub it discreetly.

"You won't show me?" Joel rises from the armchair and comes up to you, putting away the cup of tea. Standing right in front of you he seems almost impossibly broad.

"Your hands hurtin'?" he asks in a low voice that vibrates along your spine. You swallow quickly.

"Just need to warm them up, it's okay, I'm used to it."

Your breath gets caught in your throat when he takes both your hands and presses them to his chest. You feel his heart beat quickly against your palm and realize that some of his body heat actually comes from him being just as nervous as you are.

Feebly, you try to pull back your hands.

"I'm getting coal on your shirt..."

"Don't care."

You bite into your lower lip, speechless as if you were fourteen and standing in front of your crush, instead of a middle-aged woman talking to...

Who is Joel to you, anyway?

"Why are you doing this?" you ask hoarsely. Joel frowns, his hands slowly letting go of yours. You keep your palms on his chest for a second longer before letting go. Bereft of the warmth, your joints feel even worse.

He doesn't seem to have an answer to give you, but his lips move like he's trying to say something to break the silence. When nothing comes out, you get impatient.

"Joel?" you prompt.

"No one's ever looked at me like you look at me," he lets out, his dark gaze locking in on you. "It's like you're staring right through my clothes. It makes me nervous. I haven't been nervous in... a very long time."

"Nervous how?" you hear yourself ask, even if your armpits have grown damp, and your heart is beating so hard he surely must hear it.

"Nervous in that way." You hear exactly what he means, all the possibilities and threats and risks summarized in that. There's something so awkwardly boyish in it that you find yourself smiling. His frown deepens when he sees it, but his lips soften.

"Joel," you ask, softly touching your aching hand to his, "do you want to kiss me?"

He immediately grabs your wrist and touches his lips to yours in a kiss that doesn't really know what it's supposed to do but wants to do it anyway. He forgot to draw breath, and instead of inhaling against your skin, he pulls back quickly when he has to breathe.

"Fuck," he mutters, "that was a shitty kiss. I'm sorry."

Your cheeks flush violently when you pull at his hand.

"You can try again?"

The offer makes him smile, finally, and he displays that dimple that you found absolutely impossible to put to paper. His closes his hand around the back of your neck, and his lips press onto yours, and he remembers how it's done, and kisses you until you're not sure your legs will carry you anymore.

///

The picture of Joel becomes secondary to your meetings. Joel, you realize very soon, courts you, like some southern Gone With the Wind-type of gentleman. He brings you whatever materials he can find when he goes on patrol - you're excused from that task due to your horse allergy - and quietly offers you his thick gloves when you're out walking together, and your hands hurt. He continues to not talk much, but you start to recognize the little things: acts of service, the way he looks out for you, how his eyes light up when he sees you. His kisses when you part.

There is only kissing. He hasn't touched you in any other way, and you haven't taken initiative to anything further. There is only a rather chaste, yet warm, kiss when he leaves your house, where you usually meet up. He drinks tea and watches you draw, or paint when you're not asking him to pose for you. You know exactly how you want to capture him but so far, your hands haven't been skilled enough, and for every hour you spend with Joel, you lay another piece of the puzzle that is Joel, and you become unsure of how to draw him.

One evening, a couple of months after that first kiss, you're enjoying the warm fire in your living-room when there is a knock on the door. Joel stands on your porch, eyes scanning you quickly as soon as you open the door.

"You weren't at the movies," he says, referring to the event that nearly everyone in Jackson went to tonight. You hear the question in the statement: Are you okay?

"It's cold," you shrug. "Not my thing. Wanna come in?"

He enters your house, and you take his coat and hang it by the door.

"How are the hands?" he asks. You rub your palms together.

"Not bad today, actually. How's your knees?"

He grins a little, knowing that you saw him carry furniture up porch steps earlier.

"Creaky, but they still carry me."

"Tea?"

"I don't want to disturb, if you wanted to be alone."

You lead the way into the living-room, and move some things away from one armchair, pulling it closer to the fireplace, next to the one you were sitting in.

"You're not disturbing, do sit down. I could work some more on your portrait."

Busying yourself with picking at pieces of charcoal, you don't pay him any attention until his footsteps bring him right behind you. One warm hand touches your waist gently, startling you into turning around to meet his sheepish face.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay." His warm body is so close to yours, and his smell of wood, sweat, and snow invades your nose. You inhale deeply, pretending to sigh just to get the opportunity to soak in this intoxicating, masculine smell of his.

"I got something for you." Joel holds up something wrapped in cloth, and it takes you a few moments to gather yourself.

"For me?" Carefully, you take the little package from him. "Whatever for?"

He shrugs. “Thought you might need it. It’s probably your birthday at some point, or Christmas, or whatever.”

You never were good at receiving gifts, and it's even harder now. When was the last time you even got one?

He shifts his weight; a show of nerves that doesn't match up with his calm, deep voice. You decide to put him out of his misery and unfold the cloth.

It's four paintbrushes, hand carved with thick, curved handles, and tidily shaped heads.

"Oh. Joel, these are... these are gorgeous."

You hear him exhale, like he had been holding his breath.

"You think they're any good?"

"I'm sure they are, the hairs look amazing. Where did you get these?"

"I made them."

Now you tear your eyes from the brushes. "You made them?"

"Carved them, they should be comfortable to hold, I asked the doc what's suitable for someone with arthritis... The hairs are horsehair, bound together with sheep hairs."

He has really listened to you talking about all the art supplies you miss, and your ideas of making your own.

"The hairs are washed, so hopefully they won't give you allergies," he adds quickly.

"Joel... thank you. I don't know what to say."

He chuckles a little. "Try them first. What I know about making paintbrushes can fit onto the head of a nail. You may wanna return them."

"Unlikely."

You lean forward, the brushes still in your hands between the two of you, and touch your lips to Joel's. His hands rise to gently cup your elbows as he accepts your kiss. Only when your lips grow more insistent, does his hold tighten as well, and all you can think of is him holding your tits in the same manner.

Your hands, still holding the brushes, come to his chest, and you start undoing the buttons of his flannel. Joel's lips leave yours, and when he looks at you with eyes steeped in hot molten lava, you know that it didn't come easily.

"What are you doin'?"

"What does it look like?" you smile a little shakily. Is this the beginning of a refusal? Have you misunderstood his interest in you altogether?

"I don't want you to do it just because I gave you somethin'."

"It's not because you gave me something, it's because you never took anything away."

He cups your cheek now, strokes his big thumb over your lips.

"You're beautiful. I haven't done this in a long time, and never with anyone as beautiful."

"How old do you think I am?" you laugh, amused and touched at the same time. His ever-present frown changes slightly, turning quizzical.

"I don't need to hear that I'm beautiful," you specify, hands still on his chest. "I don't care about that."

"Then what do you wanna hear?" His voice is impossibly low. Your pussy clenches, grows moist and hot.

"I want to hear you want me."

"Oh, darlin'..." he sighs, closing his eyes momentarily. "I want you like crazy. I have wanted you for a long time, but I wanted for you to decide when you'd have me."

You didn't know how much you had longed for someone who saw you as a sexual being, a woman with desires and a will of her own.

"Joel," you whisper, and he swallows the rest of your words when he crashes his lips to yours. The brushes fall from your hand when you throw your arms around his neck to bring him closer, and Joel's big arms go around your waist. He hums into your mouth when your entire front is pressed against him; a satisfied hum, like he's happy to have you here. You answer with a hum of your own and feel his lips curve in a smile.

Slowly, his hands begin to know your body, sliding over curves and dips, fingers dipping into flesh, palms caressing over your clothes. Your approach is more direct: you pull at his flannel, wanting it off him.

"There's no hurry," he admonishes you between kisses. "Unless you got somewhere you need t'be?"

You exhale in something in between a scoff and a chuckle.

"In your pants?"

"Bedroom, then?"

"It's warmer in here, where the fire is."

"Hold on."

He releases you, seemingly unwillingly, and disappears into your small bedroom, re-emerging momentarily later with your bedding. You move the armchairs away to allow for him to put everything down in front of the fireplace. Groaning, he lays down on the makeshift bed, taking your hand and pulling you down next to him. You giggle a little as you plop down, immediately receiving more kisses.

"This better?" he wants to know. Your skin knots over when his hand finds its way underneath your shirt.

"Much better."

He rolls half on top of you, hand finding your breast for a light squeeze as his knee pushes between your thighs to separate them. His cock is stiff against your hip, and you move against it, smiling into the kiss when he grunts and grabs your breast harder. You put your hand on his, pressing it down, feeling his hand disappear into your soft flesh almost painfully. Your moan gears him up, and he starts to pull your shirt upwards. Squirming out of it, you reach for his belt, huffing in annoyance when Joel sits up to take his own shirt off. You sit up as well for a better reach, and your forehead connects with his chin just as he dives back to you.

"Ouch!"

"Fuck!"

You smile sheepishly at each other, both of you more startled than hurt, and Joel gently pushes you back down.

"Maybe we should take it slow?"

"I need you, I'm done waiting."

"I know, sweetheart, but I don't want you to break my jaw."

You scoff, but his kisses make you docile. Your clothes come off, along with his, and when you're both finally naked, skin against skin, you discover that you're happy with going slow as well. In the light of the fire, you trace your hand along his strong muscles and soft flesh, kiss his scars from past struggles, and the newer bruises from recent altercations with logs or whatever he has attempted to lift on his own. You close your fingers around the girth of his cock - Jesus, 20-year-old you would've giggled like a maniac at the sight of it - and enjoy the sounds of surrender that you can conjure out of him.

"God, your hands feel good on me," he hisses as you slowly, while trying to remember how to do this, stroke him with both hands. You smile, suddenly struck with nerves, when you pass your thumb softly over the glistening head of his thick cock. The precum catches the flickering light from the fire, and you get lost in how light and shadow play over Joel's skin; the dark dip of his navel, the hills of his soft pecs and stomach illuminated, his cock rising proudly from a thicket of dark hairs towards the light, the fuzz of his thighs. The embossed skin of a scar reflecting the warm light. The way his skin rises in goosebumps at your touch...

"Darlin'?"

You blink, and meet his wry, amused smirk.

"You with me?"

"Yeah, sorry. I just... was looking at the light."

"How you'd paint it?" Joel seems to catch on immediately, having listened to you rambling on about The Light several evenings. Yod nod and run one finger along the length of his cock before continuing up his happy trail, swerving around his navel.

"There's so much to see on the human body, if one just knows how to look."

"Lemme try that."

Joel pulls you down and rolls you onto your back, propping himself up on one arm next to you. You blush a little as he inspects you, his hand following the dancing shadows on your chest and stomach.

"Yeah," he murmurs, "I can see it alright."

"Yeah?"

"M-hmm. Hold on."

He rolls to the other side, looking in the dusky room for something. When he returns to your side, he's holding one of the brushes he made. With a feathery touch, he touches the brush to your ribcage, right underneath one breast.

"Here's light," he mumbles, carefully tracing the brush along a rib. "Right next to the shadow of your breast."

You exhale in a soft moan as his knuckles brush up against your breast, knotting the nipple. Joel's tongue slips out to lick his lower lip before he goes on tracing the lines that only he can see on your skin.

"What are you painting, Picasso?" you ask hoarsely.

"Hush," Joel tells you curtly yet not unkindly. You smile and close your eyes, shifting a little so that you can drape your arm around his shoulder. His hot breath is on your breast, his whiskers tickle you before something warm and wet disturbing your nipple tells you he's licked it. A shiver runs through you, and you push your chest out, asking him wordlessly to do it again.

He latches on and suckles steadily, but your shout of surprised pleasure has barely died down before he releases you and continues down your stomach with the brush.

"Joel," you whine, blinking up at him, but the focus in his eyes is so intense that you don't say anything more. Instead, you watch him figure out the fundamentals of visual art: how the light changes everything, how to handle the brush, how to angle the hand. His brush may not have any paint on it, but he paints your pleasure with sounds from you: gasps, hums, a hiss when he passes over a ticklish spot. With the brush trailing through the thicket of your pubes, your legs fall open and your lower lip catches between your teeth. Your pelvis rises to meet the soft hairs, and you moan when Joel dips the brush through your slick folds. He moves the brush to your nipple, circles it to wetten it with your arousal, then ducks down to suck it into his mouth. Your back arches, your inner thighs are wet, your heartbeats echo in your pussy, and you need him to understand just how desperately you need him.

"Fuck me," you keen, "Joel, I need you to fuck me."

He hesitates, coming up to slot his mouth over yours and steal your breath away. You rub yourself against him, find his cock and tease it, make him moan just as needily as you.

"I take it you ain't a pregnancy risk?" You hear from his tight voice how close he is to snapping. Fuck, but that's hot.

"STDs are our only concern," you try to joke, but it's not funny. Before coming to Jackson, you spent years in a quarantine zone as a nurse, and the common sexually transmitted infections ran rampant. Without proper testing equipment, it was hard to tell the scale of it.

"I should be clean," he tells you, and you're too far gone to doubt him.

"Me too."

He kisses you again as he rolls on top of you, his width and weight blocking out everything else as he plunges his tongue into your mouth. Your hips rise to meet him when he leads his cock against your entrance, and you almost bite him when he starts to push into you. Your nails press into his shoulders, the fit is impossible, and Joel stops.

"Fuck," he mutters. "You okay?"

"It's big, it's been a while."

He growls and pulls out, cupping your cheek when you whine.

"Don't wanna hurt you."

"Just get me wet, Joel."

"You're plenty wet already."

"And you're hung like a goddamn moose, so get me wetter," you snap, and Joel chuckles.

"Relax, darlin'."

"I'm trying."

He kisses you again, hand between your legs, two fingers slipping through your folds and drawing out the slick to a slow circle around your clit. Sparks run up your spine and you bury your fingers in his thick, greying hair.

"You always try to cram it in before finding a girl's clit?" you mutter, but your smile shines through. Joel slips a finger inside you.

"I told you, it's been a while." He trails kisses down your neck and moves his finger inside you, seeking the right, spongy spot. You mewl and writhe, needing more but not getting it. One finger is not enough. An idea forms in your head.

"Take the brush," you ask him breathlessly. Joel stills, finger slipping out as he studies your face. You roll your eyes.

"It's not a commentary on your skills. Get over yourself."

"You were the one who were in such a such a hurry a minute ago," he teases before looking around for the brush. Finding it, he brings it to your tits, but you shake your head.

"No, use it on me."

His brow rises quizzically. You push his hand down.

"Fuck me with it, Joel."

You expect an objection, or at the very least surprise, but all you get is a strangled sound and a searing kiss. The handle, so smoothly polished, is thick and curved in a way that bears resemblance to a dildo - not that you've used one in twenty years, but the thought is there now and you have to try this out.

The handle slides in easily, filling you better than his finger but without the intensity of his cock.

"Fuck," you keen, directing your hand down to rub your clit as Joel slowly pulls out the handle before pushing it back in. "There, fuck, Joel, that's good..."

He's breathing audibly now but you don't look at him anymore, you close your eyes and let him help you find all those buttons and spots that you had almost forgotten that you had anymore. When your toes start to curl, and you moan "Faster, Joel, faster!" he complies, rough whiskers scratching the sensitive skin of your tits as he fucks you with the paintbrush that he carved with his own split-knuckle hands to spare you your aching ones.

You barely know what an orgasm feels like anymore, but there's no mistaking this one. The rise and the tightening of muscles, the holding of breath before releasing it in a choked moan, the loosening of limbs, the pounding heat of your pussy.

"Jesus, but that's beautiful," Joel sighs, gently sliding out the brush and putting it to the side before kissing your flushed forehead. "Darlin', you're killin' me."

You chuckle huskily and pass your hands over your face.

"I think it takes a lot more to kill you, Joel Miller."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

The bedding underneath you may keep the draft of the floor at bay, but offers no suspension, so when he edges into you a second time and bottoms out, it's like being split in two between a rock and a hard place. But you can take him, and you cling to his broad shoulders with breaths coming out as hissing.

"Relax," he murmurs, petting your hair as if you were a skittish animal while slowly moving in you. "Sweetheart, you can take it, you're doing it already, you're doing it so well, it feels so good..."

You keen as he spears you again, slowly but steadily, his muscles trembling from the effort of keeping himself from crushing you. Your legs wrap around his thighs, arms around his shoulders and you pull him down, you want to be crushed, you need him like this, steady like a train and sharp like a razor, his breathless kisses on your neck, the groans that may come from pleasure or discomfort from being on the floor, you have no idea, but you need him just like this.

"Come, Joel, come," you gasp into his ear, the good one, and he endures, unwavering in his effort as he digs into you, deep, thorough, devastating.

His climax is a relief and a sadness. You don't want it to end, but you also couldn't bear one more second of it.

Joel slumps to the side, gathering you into his arms as he draws a deep, shaky breath. In the faint light of the embers that are left in the fireplace, you trace the scar on his right cheek and watch his eyelids press shut more firmly before he turns his head to kiss your fingers.

The temperature in the room seems to drop as the heat dies down, and you carefully untangle yourself from Joel's firm hold to put another log on the embers. When it flares up, you return to Joel's side, now finding him watching you.

"You okay?" he asks when you pull a blanket over both of you. Making yourself comfortable, you nod with a little smile and a kiss to his lips.

"Perfect."

"That thing with the brush was... interesting."

You blush. "I don't know what happened."

"Glad it did."

"Joel, I... haven't had sex like that... at all... in decades," you blurt out. "And this was... perfect."

He hums, glances down, and to you it's glaringly obvious that he is conflicted. Your heart sinks just as he speaks up.

"It really was perfect."

"But?" You can't help yourself: there's a slight edge to your tone. Joel leans his head back a little to take a good look at you, the usual disapproving frown back on his face.

"But there was someone," he starts, "for years. And we never had this. Time and place wasn't right."

You exhale in relief. History and baggage are easy to deal with, rejection is not.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugs with a little sound, forehead smoothed out.

"Was she... Ellie's mom?" you dare. Joel shakes his head, and his hand slowly passes over your back, fingers strumming the bump of your spine.

"I didn't know Ellie until a few months ago. This was... someone else. A partner. She took Ellie on, really. I was against it. And she... didn't make it."

You don't want to say that you're sorry again, but don't know what else to say, either. So you kiss him, because you want to, because you think he needs it, because there are no words. Your hand is splayed open on his cheek, his lips and mouth are dry and so are yours, but the kiss is sweet and gentle, and the things you can't find words for are carefully passed on to him. He exhales in a soft sigh onto your cheek, then tilts his chin up to kiss your forehead before burrowing his nose against your hair. It's clear to you that he wants to sleep, but you're buzzing with unexpected energy. Carefully, you slide away from his arms, smiling at his frown, and get up to tip-toe to the desk, where you pick up paper and coal. A faint blush colors your cheekbones when you feel his cum seep out of you, and you hurry back to the makeshift bed, sitting down by Joel's feet.

"C'mere," he barks, but you shake your head.

"Just stay still."

He complies with that frown of his, and you settle down, putting the piece of coal to the paper.

You know how you want to draw him now.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfic #my fic

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trancylovecraft · 6 months ago

Note

Hi!! Idk if you're taking requests but if you are... 👉👈 Hear me out.

Yan! Lucifer and/or Lewin (Blue Exorcist, naturally) headcanons/drabble (whatever you'd like!!) with a s/o who actually?? Loves them back?? Maybe it's Stockholm syndrome, maybe they're just as bad as them... whatever the case S/O doesn't want to leave (even when being "rescued" by others)

(AOEX) YANDERE! LUCIFER/LEWIN LIGHT x WILLING! READER: Headcannons

RECEIPT ✂- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

BARISTA'S NOTE: my requests were closed but FUCK am i not a sucker for aoex. like.. 😭 dont abuse that tho, i hyperfixate on aoex a lot but i wont hesitate to delete them >:( but thank u, i love both of these men and am happy to write for them :> GENDER: Femme FANDOM: Blue Exorcist

Thank you for ordering!

Come again soon!

LUCIFER

Lucifer, King of Light, Commander of the Illuminati and the strongest of the Ba'al. Also a Delusional, Possessive, Protective and Manipulative yandere.

Okay, So as a starter lets say that you, A member of The True Cross and teaching assistant at the cram school have been captured by the Illuminati due to Lucifer's growing obsession with you. He's been watching you for months, Only now he has decided to finally take you.

You've been kept in a cell within the Dominus Liminus for months now, Siphoned away from everyone you knew back home and isolated from everyone here. The only people you talk to being a select few, As well as the man himself, Lucifer.

Lucifer loves you, He truly does. And that is such a strange feeling for a being like him, The strongest demon after his father. You're beautiful, Despite how wretched he finds normal humans to be, He also finds you to be an exception.

That's why he needs to keep you locked up. You're pure, Perfect. You're his. He can't let you get dirtied by the likes of other human beings, No, You need to stay by his side where he can keep you safe.

You're meant to be his, You were made for him. Why else would he feel this way for you? You're soulmates, No matter how cliche that sounds that is what he believes to the core.

And you? You're terrified of him, After all he is The King of Light. He's strong, Powerful. He's the decider between whether you live or you die, You're sure any other of your allies would've sobbed at their current situation. But you're not like them.

The difference between you and your other allies?

You love demons.

They're your passion, Your fire. They are the reason you get up in the morning. Everything about them is something you chase after every waking moment. From a coal tar to a seraphim. Oh, How you adore them.

So you're terrified of him, Of Lucifer. But you would be lying if you couldn't say you were drawn to him all the same. His blonde hair, His feline eyes, His slender yet fluffy tail. He exuded an aura you had never felt before. He was poison in the silver vine you craved.

Especially once he declared himself to be your husband, A jitter in your heart at the words. Thumping and grinning wildly once he turned his back. You felt horrid for your own feelings betraying the order, But hell, If you weren't absolutely overjoyed that your new subject of interest liked you just as much as you liked him.

So, Even though you were terrified you had no problem in obeying the rules he set for you. Every time he visited you, You would be too terrified to speak yet crave to say something to him. Every time he'd make you sleep in the same hospital bed as him, Your muscles would be too tense to let you relax.

Lucifer took this as you still being unused to your new surroundings, That you're still just a bit unsettled. Don't worry! He knows you love him (even if that knowledge comes from his delusion, its still true). You just need a bit more affection, So you can become adjusted to him as your husband.

And while this was somewhat true. You still wanted so desperately to just say something to him, Express your interest and genuine desire to know more about him. To love him? That you did, More potently than any other demon before. How fascinating he was, How angelic.

Which was why when one day when you were in your cell, You heard the door open. You got excited, Your heart starting to nervously/excitedly beat in hopes that it was Lucifer coming to visit you once more!

But.. It wasn't him?

Instead it was a woman of shorter stature, A shy yet somehow determined face. Decorated in Illuminati uniform so you figured she was just a new guard on the roster allowed to deliver your next meal.

But she grasps onto your hands, Hurriedly informs you that she's a spy from The True Cross here to get you out. Your eyes widen as you hear this, She doesn't give you any chance to respond as she begins to drag you along, Saying you don't have much time.

You're dragged along by the woman, Conflicted as you make your way through the halls. And she was right, There was barely anyone there..

Shit, You didn't think you'd be rescued this soon or at all! And you feel a bit bad that you didn't want to be rescued either, Why would you want to leave when there was such an interesting demon here that you'd want to study?

The woman stops however, As soon as you enter the next room over you're met with an entire legion there, Already surrounding you.

The woman gasps, Turning to run with you in hand but the exit is quickly blocked.

Lucifer emerges from the crowd in full regalia, Even though he had his mask on you could almost feel the confused yet heartbroken expression on his face as he asks you where you were going with that woman.

You again are hit with that same fear as he asks you again, But you are unable to speak. The woman speaks for you instead, Even though she is also terrified she tells him angrily that his views were wrong, That kidnapping and keeping some poor person was detestable.

Lucifer gets irked by this, Anyone trying to challenge his delusion instantly strikes a cord in him. The woman looks over to you, Eyes begging for you to back her up.

You're still terrified, But you can't stay silent no longer as you speak your mind and announce that this woman dragged you from your cell with the intention of kidnapping you. You spoke of how afraid you were for your life, Practically lying off your tongue.

Lucifer asks her if this is true, Which the woman has no words for as she stares at you in horror.

Her eyes barely have time to widen as the room suddenly flashes, A bright light enveloping the entire room.

The woman falls to the floor dead as Lucifer approaches you, Apologising for what you must have gone through with that woman, He practically steps over the body as some of the guard comes along to drag the scorched body away.

Your fear is still very much there as he cups your cheek with his gloved hand, But you breathe, Trying to calm yourself as you rest your own hand over his and ask him when your marriage was.

Lucifer afterwards would definetly take this as you finally adjusting into your life here, Finally accepting him as your husband (not like you had any objections before).

Giving into him and actually liking him back would make his delusional behaviour so much worse. Like if you thought him thinking you were literally made for him before was bad, You've got another thing coming.

You'll have much more freedom than before, Like you'll be able to walk around wherever you want when you want (only if Homare accompanies you, However). You'll be able to access all the entertainment and leisure available on The Dominus Liminus, Anything unavailable will swiftly be made accessible for you and you only.

Lucifer himself would definetly be more relaxed when it comes to his possessive tendencies, Mostly because he knows he has you. Not like he had any doubt before, But with your reinforcement of your adoration from him, He doesn't feel much worry over it anymore.

Expect a lot more gifts from this man. Clothes, Jewellery, Stuff he think you'd like. Whatever item you may mention in passing to him or Homare, Expect it to be delivered to you by tomorrow morning at the latest.

Lucifer also becomes much more public in his displays of affection. I imagine him to be giving some important speech while holding your hand the entire time. Kisses with him are rather chaste in public, However in private that's a different story..

You sleep in his bed now, No debate. He will not rest until you're laying beside him under the covers, Him holding you close with his tail squeezing your thigh like a ball and chain.

Lucifer loves it when you praise him, He's weak for it. Honestly you could give him a few words of love and he'd be ready to do almost anything for you.

All and all, I'd say its a pretty good deal!

LEWIN

Lewin Light! Arc Knight from the Vatican and a Possessive and Obsessive yandere!

Alright so lets say that you were kidnapped by him, Previously having a relationship that he insists on keeping up now that you're unable to leave his apartment. You're unable to leave cause of the demons he keeps stationed around, That and the fact that he had to sever your Achilles tendons to keep you from running.

You hated him at first, Loathed every time he came back with a rather cheesy "Honey, I'm home!" before sauntering over to the bed you laid in, Roughly grasping you by the cheeks and kissing you on the lips.

You hated him, You really did. You hated his lazy smile, His messy mop of black hair, His passion when he ranted off to you about demons but..

You still loved him, You actually did. Even though he had clipped your wings and kept you inside, Blocked off all sources of communication except from him and severed your tendons.. You still somehow viewed him as your boyfriend.

The one that would buy you fast-food for your late night dates, The one that would joke around with you when you felt bored. You wanted to hate him but you couldn't bring yourself to, He was your boyfriend, You really did love him even though he did all this to you.

It felt like your mind was at war with one and other. One part of you hated his guts and the other part would spill your own for him if needed. It was frustrating and incredibly confusing. You really didn't know what to do.

One day however when Lewin left to go to work as usual, Leaving you alone in the house was when something different happened.

Let's say that he had given you crutches of sorts so you can get around, So you don't need to stay bedridden all the time. Of course it won't help you much because if you try to escape it's going to be one hell of a pain to do so-

But anyways- Let's say you were up, Managing to manoeuvre around all the mess in his apartment to get to his kitchen. You were hungry. Tired of staying dormant on the bed just waiting for Lewin to get home.

But you're startled once you hear someone banging at the door- Not knocking- Banging. Whoever it was their fists were pounding against the wood, Calling out your name.

Your eyes widen. You recognise the voice as an old friend from the Vatican. Why could they be here? At Lewin's apartment? Calling out your name.

The sylphs that were stationed in his apartment to keep watch of you begin to get agitated, Especially once you drop what you're doing and begin to hobble to the door in your crutches. They chitter out some incomprehensible dialogue, Though you knew it was most certainly

You open the door, Lewin not bothering to lock it as he knows the sylphs are guard enough. And as soon as you do you're enveloped in the biggest hug of your life, Squeezing you tight and near knocking you off of your crutches.

They tell you how glad they are to find you alive, That they knew Lewin was up to something all along as they see your ankles desecrated and the crutches supporting your weight.

They tell you how they knew something was off when Lewin said you were injured on a mission, Especially when he said you wanted some time to recover, Alone.

I mean you didn't even text them. They always had a suspicion about Lewin even before this all happened, And to find you like this?

You're absolutely floored with their quick ramblings, Despite being overjoyed to see them once more you have no words to say.

Especially once they try to usher you out of here believing that you are being held captive (..Which you are, But that isn't the point)

You try to tell them that you're okay, That everything is fine but they don't listen. They think you're just trying to keep them safe as they try to tug you out of the apartment.

It is only then when you're halfway out the door does another arm sling around your shoulder.

"Sorry I'm back already, Babe! Left somethin' here.. Didn't know you had any visitors comin' over today, Darlin'?"

It was Lewin, Whose arm. It was obvious he didn't leave something here, Instead the sylphs had been rather quick to tell him about the intruder.

Your friend stops in their tracks, Looking wide eyed at Lewin, Half in fear- The other in anger.

Lewin lays his head on your shoulder in a sort of romantic gesture. The hand squeezing your shoulder tightens, As if it was a warning to stay quiet and go along with it.

Especially once you get a glimpse of his eyes under his hair. An angry, Irritated gleam that gave away the fakeness of his smile.

Your friend tells Lewin that they were just here to meet up with you, To catch up since you havent talked in a while.

Lewin smiles and friendly yet firmly states that you need to rest, Your injuries still haven't healed after all.

Your friend glances towards you, Begging you to say something or give some kind of sign to say that he's taken you captive.

Glancing between the two, You knew you had to make a choice.

You swallowed down your fear, Your mind made up.

You chose then and there that you still love him, That no matter what- He is still your partner. You love him, No matter how much you hate what he did to you.

You tell your friend that everything is fine, That you still need time to rest. You give them the most genuine look you can muster, Trying to convince them everything is fine.

Your friend still doesn't look satisfied, However Lewin pipes up.

He tells your friend that they should go now, They shouldn't be taking time off work hours to go visit friends. He pats them a little too harshly on the shoulder before shooing them off.

After that?

Lewin definetly trusts you more than he ever has, Especially since the sylphs told him that you meant it even before he showed up. He feels his heart squeeze at that.

As soon as your friend left, Lewin definetly made it a point to "show his appreciation." If you get what I mean.

Expect Lewin to be much more lenient. Maybe you can take walks out on your own with the sylphs, Maybe you can order food and maybe- Just maybe- You might get your phone back.

Maybe if you really prove your trustworthiness, He may let your friends visit. Only when he's there though, Of course.

Once your ankles heal then he'd let you return to the vatican as an exorcist. Though expect all your missions to be paired up with him and him alone. He can't let you get hurt now!

Everything goes back to normal, Before he severed your ankles. The only thing changed being that you're now well aware of his obsessive behaviour, Now accepting it with him, Perhaps even feeding into it.

Perhaps you're the kind that likes to make him jealous. If so, Lewin will play along though I warn you not to go to far- Lewin might just do the same.

Expect to wash the blood off him, Lewin seeing this as a romantic scenario. (The only time he will willingly bathe.)

All in all- Lewin loves you, Maybe a little too much- But still loves you all the same.

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