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outstandingmenshair · 2 years

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#Spiky #Viking #Hipster #Textured Crop

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dev1lm4n · 10 months

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lesson two: tease

ko-fi | series masterlist (5 out of 7)

pairing: porn star!joel miller x f!reader

summary: tension is on the rise between you and mr. miller. wicked fantasies hadn't posted for an entire month! desperate, you decided to get even more bold with your requests and he had no difficulty in complying.

word count: 4.8k

warnings: explicit (18+), set in 2013, pre-outbreak, age gap (joel in mid 30's and reader in early 20's), inexperienced but not dumb reader, blowjob, f masturbation, check umbrella warning on series masterlist

notes: tension is literally on the rise! the vase is about to crack, but tonight he decides to indulge. fellas if you enjoyed this do COMMENT, REBLOG or buy me a KO-FI ;) love y'all

Broad shoulders.

During the time when you simply saw Mr. Miller as a figure in your lewd fantasies, you knew that it was the roughness of his build that attracted you. There’s a certain market for it; for women and men alike who enjoyed those who're built like burly vikings straight out of a movie. Those who enjoy men with a slight plumpness on their front, those who salivate over their strong and reliable arms, those who strive to caress their calloused fingers and press kisses onto their rigid knuckles. You’ve never confessed this to anyone - mostly terrified for their reserved judgment over the topic - but you fit perfectly in that box. Time after time, you wonder if it’d feel nice, if you could just press your nifty fingers into the coils of his muscles, if he’d let out a groan.. a moan perhaps from the sensation.

Rough fingers.

After spending two minutes staring intensely at his sturdy, slightly hunched build, you finally gathered enough courage to summon yourself into the kitchen. God, he looked so good just washing the dishes. His already calloused fingers didn’t have to worry about the damage those cheap dish soap does, because if anything, it’d just make it better. More ridges means more texture and more texture feels better. Two of his fingers entered the soapy lining of his mug, spreading the cleaning product into every crack and crevice. It looks a little erotic, you decided. Your filthy mind conjured up altered scenarios which implemented the same motion. You’d be on top of the cold countertop, various kitchen gadgets set aside as his fingers delved into your cunt. He’d spread your wetness the same way he did to the mug.

Thick mustache.

He took notice of your presence. He watched you and you allowed him, even if he did so wordlessly. Water continued to spill out of the faucet. It hit the empty bottom of the sink and sprouted upwards in a gauche manner, effectively wetting his gray shirt in blotches and dots. You breathed out what could pass as a dry chuckle and in return, he quirked his lips. A grin. A youthful one that almost made you forget of his crow’s feet and faint lines. His thin upper lip almost disappeared as it was tugged on both sides, but the dark hair on top remained pristine. It was thick, you concluded. Not as thick as Uncle Tommy’s, but thick enough that he’d get marinara sauce on it every pasta night. Thick enough that you wonder what it’d be like to have it graze your sensitive pelvis.

Fuck, he’s hot and you’re unreasonably horny.

“Hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he parroted back, only with the help of that damned nickname he’s stamped onto you.

Crunch

You bit into the red apple you found during your little scavenging trip into his refrigerator. The sound broke whatever trance he had placed you under. With those eyes of yours, pupils rounded and lashes batted, it was a dangerous game you’re playing. When had you gotten so shameless towards Mr. Miller? Perhaps it’s when he touched you in an irrevocably pleasurable way, or perhaps it’s when he hadn’t posted a video for an entire month. He missed his posting schedule, two whole weeks post-’Dirty Fridays’, and it’s severely messing with your head. You’ve always been a good viewer. Always being content with what he had put out and would never harass him for more, but it’s been a long month repeating the same 13 minute long video.

You’re bound to get restless.

“Didn’t see you come home yesterday.”

“I was busy.”

Crunch

With other girls? In that trailer studio of yours? The question sat on the tip of your tongue. A breath away from being exposed into the dense air. You turned to lean your lower back onto the edge of the countertop, eyes still trained on his as you hitched yourself atop the smooth surface. Your fingers grazed the squared edges, just to keep you occupied while you dug under the surface of his browns. You wondered what he was so busy with - wondered what’s going on behind the tightly knitted cloak of guise he wore, wondered what he thought of you after his little lesson. He wasn’t a shy one. Mr. Miller stared back into your pupils. His chest raised and lowered with every blink he took.

You swallowed nervously.

“Workin’ doubles,” he cracked. “I ain’t sharin’ the job with anyone other than Tommy.”

“Is that so?”

“You think I’m lyin’?”

Crunch

You couldn’t read him. You’ve never been able to. There’s just a huge boulder sitting behind those irises, one that’s blocking you from understanding him even further. It’s not like it’s your business anyway. You’re content with spending your downtime with Sarah; screaming your hearts out to Taylor Swift’s I Knew You Were Trouble on the radio, painting each others’ nails, and making the ultimate pancake with chicken. You’re content with just watching him through his videos, reimagining those situations with the new knowledge you’ve acquired from him. You’re content with standing at a distance from him. So, it wouldn’t be logical to get all protective over him. What are you? His crazy ex-girlfriend?

“How’s Sarah?”

“Great,” you mumbled, mouth still half full. “Taught her fractions yesterday. Swear she’s getting smarter than me.”

“How’s Simon?”

Crunch

Things with Simon, surprisingly, went on smoothly. After that mediocre dinner, where you proceed to let Mr. Miller finger you afterwards in order to introduce you to the new world of sex, you’ve exchanged a few messages and a few perfectly appropriate photos. It’s been awhile since you actually put any effort into trying to get into a relationship, due to work loads and a special dependance towards a pornstar, but it’s much better than you expected. He’s a nice boy. He would treat you right if you gave him the chance to, but you couldn’t help but think that you’re doing all this out of spite. Doing this to show off how capable you are to Mr. Miller, to busy yourself off those plaguing thoughts of him.

“Simon’s doing okay. Fine. He took me for ice cream after my classes yesterday.”

“Offered you a ride, right?”

“Yup.”

He taught you well.

“You’ve done it with him then?”

Your heart clenched.

“Done what?”

“What I taught you.”

Why is he so candid about the entire ordeal?

It was like being held at gunpoint. You watched his eyes, then found it to be too oppressive so you looked down to meet his wet hands. He had finished washing all the plates and cutleries from the breakfast you and Sarah made, though his thick fingers still gripped onto the edge of the metal sink, wet and dripping. You looked up once again, trying to find a part of him that doesn’t make you all jittery and awkward.

“Yes.”

Your lie must’ve been undetectable since you quickly caught on to how his brows tangled and unraveled, a habit of his you’ve picked up recently, signaling that he’s processing the information and giving it a good thought.

“Was it as good?”

Crunch

You nodded surely with a mouthful of tangy apple. There’s no way you could get away with lying so blatantly the second time so you decide the nod would affirm your position better instead of scramble it. He cocked his head to the side, arrogant as always, with some sort of interest in his eyes. You could just tell something foul was about to come out of those sharp tongue of his, when all of a sudden, a clatter sounded out from beyond the window. Both of you turned your heads in sync, following after where the presumable source was. There he was. Tommy in all of his youthful glory. One of his jean legs drenched and beside him was a metal bucket, laying pitifully with its contents poured out onto the sidewalk. He was cursing. A garbled mess of English, while he soothed his pained arse.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

He let out a sigh as he finally tore his gaze away from you to wipe his hands onto a kitchen rag.

“Gotta get goin’,” he whispered hurriedly, fingers running down his messy hair to smooth them down. “You need anything, sweetheart?”

You shook your head no and he took it as a cue to leave the premises. He rushed to pick up his phone from the dining room table, eyes fleeting to find his wallet right after.

“Hey, Mr. Miller.”

He turned his head to meet your eyes.

“You busy tonight?”

Dinner had always been a lonesome affair for you.

Back when you still live in your parents’ cluttered mishmash of a house, you’d always opt out of family dinner. Not because you weren’t particularly fond of your mother’s cooking, her one pot recipes will still remain nostalgic in your head despite time, but more because you’d rather not indulge in petty arguments. They’d always argue. Your mother would flash you that look of hers, silently demanding you to stay on her side when it comes to dealing with your father’s frequent misdemeanors. He’d complain about the tiniest bits of things. If the lettuce was too wilted or if you were wearing too much makeup. He’s an ass, sure, but it’s not like your mother’s planning to abandon him anytime soon. They’re conjoined at this point. Even when it’s massively unhealthy, especially for spectators like you.

In Mr. Miller’s home, oftentimes, you’d put together an edible meal for the entire family. Mr. Miller was a hard worker, according to the accounts that he made, so it’s not rare that you’d have to fry up sausages and whip mashed potatoes together for Sarah. It’s not as if he made it your responsibility. He’d encourage the two of you to order take outs or phone in the pizza place, but that couldn’t be good for Sarah’s growth or his own pocket. And as much as you’d like to deny it, you’re growing way too fond of the Millers.

But it’s been far too long since you crossed path with Mr. Miller. Far too long that you might’ve forgotten what his natural musk after a long day smelt like. Far too long that you might’ve forgotten how heavy his boots were as it dragged across the tiles. Far too long that you surely misses him.

You’re nervous.

Unreasonably so when the promise you’ve made with him was simply for dinner. Nothing less or more. Just dinner. Was the invitation you gave him.. too much? Was it too flirty? Was it silly to think that he might’ve entertained the little show you put out? The desperate stares and chewed lips, you’re undeniably begging for attention. Begging for him to pay attention to you, see what you’re made out of, doesn’t he want to unravel you more? The audacity you have was laughable.

How pathetic, you thought.

Just like clockwork, Mr. Miller showed up right after your self-deprecating cycle. Right after all that flirty and playful energy got brutally murdered by common sense. Right after they were buried in a graveyard of mistakes and what was left was simply the putrid scent of shame. Your head perked up expectantly. As if the mere sight of him in his work uniform, a combo of worn-out flannel shirts and dark-washed jeans, would cure you of exhaustion. Mr. Miller came barging into the hallway. His thumb and index finger diligently massaged the tall bridge of his nose, eyes closed and nose flared from breathing too hard. Your eyes finally made its rounds to where his free arm was propped up on his waist. Sleeves rolled to where it was physically impossible to roll them higher.

He didn’t look like he was in the best of moods.

And somehow.. somehow it excites you.

“Hi, how are you?” you spoke stiffly as if you’re one of those supermarket cashiers, posture straightening upon his arrival.

“Not good,” he replied gruffly.

Mr. Miller made his way to you. He appeared to be the same height and stature as he’s always been, but for whatever reason, he looked a lot larger. As if he could bite and tear you into chunks of flesh if he truly desired to. His movements were staggered. Each step seemed to be more and more of a hassle to him. He had this.. frown on his face. You could even call it a scowl. Forehead waved with folds of worries, lips tightened into an irritated pull as he finally settled down across from you. This new side to him made your limbs limp and your heart spasm. A squeeze each time his narrowed eyes met yours.

“Everything.. okay?” you mused out.

“Just a bunch of shit piling up,” he reasoned, looking down to meet the plate you carefully crafted for him. “Nothin’ to worry your pretty little head.”

The plate’s cold, boiled asparagus hardened and packaged chicken dried, but he didn’t even consider complaining. His brown eyes took in the effort you gave, a brief sheen of guilt glazing those pretty eyes of his before he picked up his fork and spoon. You watched him with care. His every move calculated and drilled deep into your head.

“Sarah asleep?”

“Mhm. I bored her to death with trigonometry,” you chuckled lightly. “She’s okay. Just.. she’s been asking for you. Asking me why you’re always home late.”

Joel’s eyes perked up from the plate. He met your eyes, but it almost felt like he’s looking right through you, over your head to where he could contemplate his decisions. You knew this just from looking, but Joel Miller had a fear of not being a good parental figure. Sarah only had one and he’s barely ever home. That sort of thought festered over him and took over any sort of inhibition. Any sort of clear thinking, that he’s doing all these side jobs to help support her further in life, that it was all for her. Mr. Miller beats himself up too much, but it’s not like you had any right to intervene. You watched as he indulged in the asparagus, seeing how it’s grown cold enough to feel like metal rods when bitten into. He chewed on it with a solemn expression, a curl between his brows.

“Sorry for putting you through this, sweetheart,” he hummed. “I could.. should actually hire help.”

You waited a beat.

“You’ve been doing me too much favor. It’s not.. right.”

“Don’t need to.”

“Why?”

“Always happy to help.”

“But-”

“It’ll cost you too much for help. You’d be sleeping at your job if that happens.”

He could easily earn up to thousands if he gave into the temptations and started working for a mainstream adult film company. One that’s easily recognized from its corny storylines and cringy high-pitched over-the-top moans. Mr. Miller would be a hit, you’re sure of that. Mainstream porn only requires two things when it comes to male actors: a pretty reasonably-sized cock and charisma. Both in which he had under his belt. If he weren’t so particular with the actresses he chose, the angles in which he filmed, and the routine in which he performed in, perhaps he wouldn’t have to beat himself up to skin and bones. You leaned your cheeks onto the palm of your hands as you watched him devour his dinner.

“I need a favor.”

His fork paused.

“But you- well, you’ll laugh.”

He looked up. The crinkles beside his eyes seemed a lot more prominent, as if he’s thoroughly entertained by your youthful silliness.

“What is it? Somethin’ for Simon is it?”

He’s spot on and it’s making you shrink.

“What?” he chuckled gruffly. “You gonna ask me to teach ya how to blow a guy? Oh.. or how to hang him up in ribbons?”

You looked away, awkwardly scratching your elbow.

“Fuck. I’m spot on, am I? Didn’t take you for a kinky gal.”

“No! God, no,” you looked at him, horrified. “Not the latter.”

“The former then?”

“The former.”

The former. You couldn’t bear to wait for his delayed answer. It’s shameless for you to be asking a second time, but you couldn’t help yourself. You’re pent-up, desperate, and he’s your porn star crush forfuckssake. You stood up from where you’re seated. Your gaze was averted completely, to the point where it’s tilted at an uncomfortable angle to shuffle away from his attention. It’s better to sleep it off. Then maybe you’d act like all this didn’t happen the next day. Sarah’s going to be around for breakfast, so he’d surely keep his mouth in check and draw his way out of this. Wouldn’t he.. would he-

“Hey, hey slow down.”

You felt a hand stop you. His grip was tight, possibly bruising if you were to retaliate any other way. It was still hard to meet his eyes, especially when you had to make the special effort to tilt your head up in order to meet his searing gaze. You waited instead, letting him hinder you of any movements as you stared intensely into his flannel-cladded chest. What was he going to say? Is he going to call you up for your perverseness? Was he-

“I’ll do it.”

“What?”

“I said I’ll do it.”

His voice clambered in the chambers of your heart. Masculine, thick with an inch of Southern bass, he took hold of your other hand with those thick fingers of his. This was different from your first lesson. He looked much more.. impatient. A bit of a rough edge when it comes to handling you, a pretty little thing that’s too brave and forward for your own good. His scent, fragments of wood and a taste of clean laundry, permeated the thick air around you. You inhaled him. All of him for the first time in a very very long week. He released the steel grip he had around your wrists and traced it over the rough outline of your body. Up, up, up, until he reached the span of your shoulder. Your breath hitched. All you could feel in your heart was a repeating desire for himhimhim.

He pushed you down slowly, guiding you to lower yourself before him. Right until your knees hit the freezing linoleum tiles beneath his feet. What were you doing? Is it the right decision to fall back into the same old mistake?

“Have you ever practiced on anything before?” he chuckled, almost demeaning in a sense. “A banana or a hairbrush perhaps?”

You shook your head no. All you could see was his dirty jeans, stained of dry concrete and paint.

He brought his rough fingers down to graze against your chin, tilting it upwards so that you’d face him. His eyes were dark, hooded, and trying its best to conceal its obvious amusement. Your chest heaved up and down. Nervous of what he’s about to do next.

“Let’s practice first, ‘kay, sweetheart?” he muttered.

Mr. Miller brought his other pair of fingers next to your face, cradling it with such reverence. He swiped your lips. Bottom then top, only to delve inside your mouth to wet it with enough lubricant. He’s initiating it. His little routine. The older man brought two of his fingers, his index and middle, before he inserted it slowly into your wet cavity. Slowly. Achingly slow. He made sure that you’re comfortable with just a knuckle deep before he proceeded to push in further until the tips sat at the very beginning of your tongue. It wasn’t a familiar feeling like rubbing your clit. You struggle not to gag, or to whimper at the sheer lewdness of the scene unfolding.

“Ah, what a smart girl,” he mused. “Lay your tongue flat for me.”

Your clammy palms fell helplessly atop your smooth pajama pants, gripping on the cotton everytime it felt like too much. His thick fingers separated to make the girth much larger, preparing you for what’s to come. It’s almost as if you could taste him. Taste the natural scent Mr. Miller has around him at all times, taste the carnal desire he held for this. You knew he wouldn’t openly admit it, but this time, it truly looked like he’s looking forward to ripping your innocence away. All his feigned affection stretched thin as you obeyed him perfectly. Tongue flat on the base of your mouth, you breathed in through your nose as best as you can.

“That boy wouldn’t like it if you’re sharp with your teeth,” he muttered as he pulled his fingers away. A string of saliva connected the tip of his wet fingers to your slacked jaw. Oh, how vulgar. Your tight entrance twitched and throbbed inside your panties. Arousal started to wet the thin material, painting dark circles that contrast with the bright color. You were heaving, panting from the sudden increase of oxygen. “So no teeth, keep your tongue flat, and breathe through your nose.”

“You got that, sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Mr. Miller.”

“Alright. Would you like me to take my pants off or do you wanna try it yourself?”

You looked up at the tempting prospect. He gave you a little nod, affirming that you indeed had the upper hand to the situation. And just like that your hands were quick to get on the perimeter of his belt. You loosened the leather from its metal confines, slowly pulling it away from the hook before leaving it. The leather hung from where his two front loops were located. Meekly, you looked up once more as your soft fingers felt his buttons up. He hissed through his pursed lips, a good reaction you assume, as you slowly unbuttoned the main button. You were confident enough now to tug away at his zippers. Step one was completed, you’ve successfully opened him up like a Christmas present.

But.. what’s next?

“What do I do next?”

“What do you think you do?”

You reached out for the waistband of his briefs, but you were quickly met with a little slap on the back of your hand. Not a hurtful one. Just a little reminder.

“It’s best if you get him worked up first so he’s fully hard when you’re ready,” he whispered. “Why don’t you press some gentle kisses on it?”

You hummed in agreement, before you did as you’re told. Even with the dim lighting of the dining room, you could see clearly where the outline of his cock is. It’s semi-erected, you deduced. You’ve seen him in all his glory to the point where you could calculate how much more he could grow. Gently, you closed the gap between you and those pair of briefs he’s wearing. Your mouth was hot and warm in contrast to the cold air, so when you finally pressed a kiss on top of his clothed shaft, his cock twitched immediately. You could feel it and see it too in certain lighting. Encouraged, you press even more kisses on each and every spot, slowly building up the desire until you reach the leaking tip. You nuzzled your nose close. It smelled like him, salty with a tinge of masculine musk.

This turned you on so much that you inevitably grinded your bottom towards the cold tile. Nothing was there to satiate your throbbing core, just a short term burst of pleasure.

“Shit, sweetie,” he hissed. “I think you’re ready.”

With haste, you quickly tugged on his waistband. You didn’t expect for his length to pop out that quickly, the startled reaction you had was proof of that. He looked.. pretty. Blushed beige with a ruddy tip that's covered. It’s a little silly that that’s the first thing that came to your mind, but it’s the truth. You’d never guess that you could get this up close. Eye level to the cock you’ve been fantasizing about, where you could practically see each and every one of his veins. You didn’t say one word. Instead, you settled on observing the new interest. Your one finger went up curiously to touch the white substance that’s pooling up top. Sticky, you thought. Out of curiosity, you stuck the lone finger down your throat. Salty was the next thought in line.

“Didn’t expect you to taste it,” he chuckled.

You simmered in the sudden embarrassment.

“What’s next? Should I just put it in my mouth?”

“You could.”

“There’s another way?” you peered up curiously.

“Well,” he hummed. You watched as his finger pried your lips open once more, urging you to stick out your wet tongue. “You could make a show out of it. Look me in the eye and lick me slowly.”

You quirked your eyebrows as if unsure if this will work. You’ve never taken yourself as a ‘sexy’ person. Will this even work? To get rid of those plaguing thoughts, you decided to take a leap of faith. You stuck your tongue out more and slowwwwly dragged it along his salty length. You made sure to keep your eyes on his, watching his every micro reaction to decide which one pleased him more. This is supposed to be about Simon! Why are you.. seeking for his validation? On instinct, you pulled the hooded skin back to reveal his furiously red tip. You laughed nervously before you experimentally sucked on it. The wet warmth instantly had him buck up into you, a strained groan following suit.

“Oh shit,” he cursed. “You’re doing good.”

Getting confident, you decided to suckle on it a little more. It tasted a lot more intense than what you’ve tasted of him, but it wasn’t bad at all.

“You think you could take more, sweetheart?”

You nodded before letting his length infiltrate your mouth even more. The end touched the back of your throat ambitiously before you had to pull back and set yourself onto his sensitive tip once more. It wasn’t as easy as his co-stars are making it seem. There was a rhythm in which you have to master, a balance of push and pull so that you don’t gag at the intrusion. His soft groans were heavenly. You didn’t get to hear much of it the first time around, but now it’s all you could think of. You can’t take it anymore! You just had to touch yourself.

“Shit, you’re a dirty gal, are ya?” he chuckled. “Had to touch yourself to this?”

You cried out a muffled moan. It was all too familiar. The way in which you slipped your hand into your pants, shuffling between the layers of panties to rub at your clit. You were already drenched with need. Strings of arousal webbed between your fingers as you rubbed figure eights all across the sensitive patch of nerves. You’re losing track of the rhythm and Mr. Miller took notice of that. He was kind enough to lead you. His fingers slotted perfectly behind the crown of your head, guiding you in a pace you could tolerate.

“Perfect mouth for little Simon,” he degraded.

Mr. Miller’s large hands continued to move you at a certain pace. The time slot left for you to gather your breath tightened and it’s almost like you could pass out from the lack of oxygen. But it felt too good. He tasted too nice. You’ve got his cock in your mouth and it’s spurting out tangy liquid goodness onto your tongue, what else can you ask for?

You continued to grind onto the palm of your hand, desperate enough to not think of how shameless you looked. So slick, your fingers let out a lewd pop everytime it dipped inside of you. Usually you weren’t fond of vaginal penetration by yourself, but the thought of having his cock inside of you left you rabid. This was supposed to be about Simon, is it not?

“You wanna know what a real man tastes like?” he mused out lazily.

You nodded desperately. Mr. Miller held your head tight against his pelvis. Your nose grazed against the coarse dark curls he had as he twitched inside of you. You continued to slick the pads of your fingers against yourself. An entire week of masturbation being combined into one as you felt that familiar pressure build in your stomach. A coil waiting to be snapped.

“Sh- shit.”

Mr. Miller broke first. He hunched slightly as he rode his orgasm out. You could see how his legs trembled and his hips bucked himself even further down your throat.

There it was. The salty trace you tried earlier came in big spurts down your throat, only when you couldn’t fit more did it start seeping out your mouth. It dribbled down the gaps between his softened cock and your aching mouth, stripes of white just trickling down vulgarly. You moaned into his cock, wetting the flimsy material of your panties. A combination of the scent his cock gave to the familiar rubs to your clit had you seeing stars. You knew for a fact that the linoleum tiles would be soaked with your juices when you come up to your feets.

This isn’t a problem anymore, it’s a catastrophe.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #joel miller #tlou #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #the last of us #tw age gap

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unoislazy · 7 months

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The Outsider

(Part 1)

Hiccup Haddock x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: You wound up on the shores of Berk after something… had happened to you. Thankfully someone had found you and reported your presence to the Chief.

————————————————————

Life on Berk was running just as smooth as ever. Well, other than the occasional fire spreading here and there, Vikings roughhousing over the smallest inconvenience, it was as peaceful as an island full of Vikings and dragons could be. That was until one random day, you washed up on shore.

Of course you weren’t noticed right away but it certainly didn’t take long for someone to eventually stumble across you and your tattered piece of driftwood lying helplessly on the sand. You were in pretty bad condition, you hadn’t eaten in days and had several visible injuries that would cause further problems if they weren’t dealt with.

Thankfully the person who had found you knew to bring you the Gothi, the village healer, as well as informing the chief of your unannounced arrival.

You certainly stirred conversations among the Vikings as news spread quickly of your presence. Many murmurs of disapproval circulated as many people believed it would be a repeat of what had happened the last time someone had wound up stranded on the shores of Berk.

Now you lay in Gothis house, on a cot she had set out for you as she tended to your wounds. You were still very much unconscious so you had no idea you had gained some visitors. If you were awake you might have been honored to know one of those visitors was none other than the chief of the village himself, Hiccup Haddock.

Hiccup and his very close friend, who had insisted she’d come along, Astrid Hofferson. Hiccup and Astrid had a somewhat complicated relationship over the years, having dated for a little while when they were younger but decided to break it off because of their differing visions for the future. Thankfully they worked out their issues and managed to still remain very close friends. Astrid often lended a hand in any errands Hiccup often got overwhelmed by, and they worked well together.

Now here they were, standing in front of your unconscious body, questioning what on Earth they were going to do.

“They look to be in pretty bad shape.” Hiccup said, his finger tapping his chin as you looked down at you. His eyes very carefully took in the intricate details of your face, trying to discern whether he’s seen you before. Maybe you were a dragon trapper?

He then looked at your hair, the color and texture not ringing any bells for him. He then looked at your eyes, well more accurately, your eyelids. They lay still and motionless as you continued to sleep which he found quite odd, but then again he figured you were too weak to even dream at this point. Although, he found a sense of curiosity when it came to your eyes, what did they look like? What color were they? Were they pretty?

Stupid questions to ask in a situation such as this.

“Well who knows how long they were out at sea.” Astrid finally replied. It seemed as if she too was looking over your features, not recognizing you in the slightest. She shook her head as if she was answering her own question. Hiccup then let out a sigh, knowing his next point was not going to go over well with her.

“They’re going to need some place to stay while they heal.”

“What?”

Called it.

“I said they’re going to need some place to stay.” Hiccup repeated, as he looked over to the blonde haired girl who looked as if she just watched Hiccup get carried off by a dragon and returned in a matter of seconds right before her eyes.

“You can’t be serious.” She began, the amount of shock evident in her voice suggested she was almost disappointed that Hiccup would even think of such an idea.

She continued, “What do you mean stay? You can’t possibly be thinking about keeping them here.”

“And what if I am?” The man argued, at least attempting to stand his ground. It wasn’t too often he was taken very seriously when he made decisions, but his stubbornness usually won out in the end.

“Uh hello, do you not remember what happened last time we helped someone who wound up stranded on our shores?” Astrid questioned, her hands planted firmly on her hips as if she was a stern mother scolding their child. Hiccup was usually quite a smart leader, but in instances like this, his morals often clouded his judgment.

In Astrid’s eyes, putting others' needs before your own can be very selfless, but when you put someone else’s needs in front of your own, as well as potentially everyone else on Berk? That’s where she starts to have a problem.

“I hear you Astrid but we can’t believe that everyone who winds up on our shore is out to get us, besides look at them. Who would injure themselves for the sake of taking over the village?” He asked genuinely, gesturing towards you. Thinking back to when Heather had arrived, sure she came in an overturned boat, but at least she had a boat. You had come on a literal piece of driftwood and nothing more. If someone was trying to use you as bait, they certainly weren’t prioritizing the success rate of you even arriving on Berk in the first place.

“I don’t know Hiccup, maybe someone who’s really committed? Maybe someone who has no other choice?” Astrid argued.

“If they have no other choice then we have to help them.” He responded. It was at this point Astrid was beginning to see that Hiccup had already made up his mind and arguing with him was going to be the same as arguing with a brick wall.

And yet she persisted.

“Hiccup, we can't put our noses into everyone else’s business, if they’re in trouble that’s their problem. We don’t always have to get involved.” She tried, but Hiccup's gaze was stern and unwavering. It was clear that he truly believed in his cause and he was going to stick beside it.

“We do when they wind up on our island Astrid.”

Astrid sighed, turning away from Hiccup for a moment as she gave the option a thought. Once she turned back towards him she raised her hands in defeat.

“Okay, alright. But I’m still going to heavily question them the exact moment they wake up.” She joked a bit, earning a small chuckle from Hiccup as he turned back to face you. Normally when Berk had a guest, he would offer his house to stay in.

However, maybe Astrid was right to at least be a little cautious this time so he decided against it. Maybe it was best for them to stay here, it would also give Gothi time to watch over them to make sure they’re healing properly. Once they heal, then they can discuss the living arrangements.

“Guess all we do now is wait.” Hiccup sighed before finally looking away from you and then back to Astrid. “It could be days until they wake up, let us know if anything happens.” Hiccup requested, now looking down at Gothi who gave him a smile and a nod. With that confirmation, Hiccup said his goodbyes and began to walk outside, but not before taking one last look at you.

He had convinced himself that he kept looking at you to see if he recognized you and for no other reason at all.

Three days had passed by and you still had not woken up. Hiccup and Astrid had been by several times, a few times together, but usually on their own time. You wounds were making very slow healing progress but you were still not receiving the proper amounts of food.

It was beginning to get worrying.

That was until randomly around noon on the third day, your eyes shot open and you quickly rose from your cot, ultimately regretting your decision as you became very dizzy almost immediately. You tried to steady yourself by proposing your arms up behind you, but eventually gravity seemed to have taken full control of your body and dragged you right back down to the cot.

Once the dizziness had dissipated a bit, you looked around at your very new surroundings. The last you remembered was… well you couldn’t quite remember really. You could hear the faint voice of a man in your memory, but you couldn’t place who it could have come from.

As you continued to look around the very homey little cottage-like house you were now in, you eventually noticed a very short woman walking towards you with a bowl in hand. As she neared you she had to continue to shoo away several little lizard type animals that continued to try and swarm her to steal the food.

It took you a moment before you realized those weren’t just lizards, they were dragons.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you watched the woman handle the beasts with such care and affection.

Great, you happened to wind up in some crazy woman’s cottage in the middle of who knows where.

You carefully sat back up, steadying yourself to prevent you from getting dizzy again as you looked towards the woman.

“Where am I?” You asked, but your voice was hoarse and scratchy from not having been used in days. The woman merely stared at you with a smile as she held the bowl of what looked to be like soup, towards you, urging you to eat.

You shook your head, trying to get her to answer before you asked again, “Where am I?”. In return she shook her head, now practically shoving the soup in your face. You finally took the soup from her, hoping that now she would answer you, but instead she turned right back around and began working on something else.

You simply stared in confusion before looking around you for some way out. That’s when you saw it, the door. Sure you couldn’t really run but the woman seemed largely occupied. Besides, you could argue you just needed fresh air.

Easy.

Or so you thought.

You carefully put your feet onto the ground, the floorboards creaking beneath you as you slowly put your weight down. You carefully began to push yourself upwards into a standing position, occasionally wobbling here and there but you were managing. You almost felt like some kind of sea creature learning how to use their new legs. You hugged the wall as you slowly but surely made your way towards the door, swinging it open and walking out.

You didn’t know what to expect, but you were hoping to see a village of some sort, maybe even a large woodland area, but you quickly realized you had been very mistaken. Oh sure, there was a village, but it was currently several hundred feet below the house you were currently standing in.

“Why in god's name would they build this so high up?” You wondered to yourself, and just as you had managed to stick your head even the slightest bit over the edge to peak below, you heard a loud roar from an animal you had never heard before.

You scrambled away from the edge, afraid that you may have upset some sort of creature that lived under the weird balcony that was a part of this house. It didn’t take you long to realize that the roar you had heard did not come from below, but instead it had come from above. Your head shot up to look for the source of the noise and your eyes widened as you made eye contact with a…

“Night Fury?” You shrieked, well as well as you could've with such a broken voice. With all your might you brought yourself back up and scrambled back into the house, slamming the door behind you. Suddenly this woman didn’t seem crazy because you could’ve sworn you saw someone riding that Night Fury. You’d have to be insane to even think of doing something like that.

Maybe sitting down and just having your soup was the best option right now, besides you were probably just hallucinating. After all, Night Furies went extinct years ago… right?

You sat down, finally beginning to take in some of the very warm meal that the strange woman had prepared for you, and you couldn’t lie it was pretty tasty. Well tasty in Viking terms of food. The warmth of the meal actually began to calm you down a slight bit before you heard a knock at the door that you had previously slammed, followed by a slightly concerned and confused voice.

“Uh, hey Gothi? Are we able to come in, didn’t mean to scare your guest like that.” The voice said from the other side of the door. The only thing you could really tell from it was that it was a young man. You then looked towards the woman, who you assumed to be Gothi, as she hobbled over to the door, now opening it.

Once the door had been fully opened, you locked eyes with the man now standing in the doorway and it immediately clicked. You weren’t hallucinating, that man was actually riding a dragon. And no one else was reacting to this?!

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manticore-fangs · 3 months

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thinking of viking au of ghoap x reader.

you were living out in the wilderness with your finest steed. a purebred friesian horse, sleek black coat and wavy long hair. you had a lantern and ripped rags across your privates areas, clothes ripped from the adventures you withstood and suffered through. only to be caught by men in shiny iron armour. speaking a language you couldn’t understand, it was.. scottish? but you didn’t know as you were shoved down and had a bag over your head.

you later awoke, you were in a bed with comfy sheets and silky blankets. soft furry texture payed across you and the blanket, you were groggy and all you wanted to do was sleep. but you seen two rugged men, they looked at you and the spoke. “ya’ awake lass?” one of them spoke and you nodded. you rubbed your eyes and seen a man with brown hair, shaped into a mohawk while one had a mask. it was made of what looked like a human skull.. but you didn’t ask.

“where am i? wh- your men took me! where’s my horse!!” your worried and the mohawk man shushes you. “yer’ in ma’ village. ya’ crossed our boundary. your horse is okay, she’s at the stable eatin’ apples.” you sighed at the last sentence but you didn’t understand. “i was no threat to you or your men, why did your men do this? i need to get going!” and he grabs your shoulders and pushed you down, shaking his head. “what do ya’ mean by ‘get going’?” he questions and your confused.

you tell them how your father kicked you out because you rejected being married and you didn’t want to get married as your still young and reckless and because if that.. he kicked you out and your mother is looking for you, trying to get you back and you don’t wanna go back. not at all. he nods at everything your saying, with small hums.

“ya’ can stay here. but we hav’ rules.” you look at him, and look down speaking up. “really? i mean, i’m good at horses. i know all the tricks in the books. i’ll do anything for a home.” and he laughs. “ya’ donnae need tae do that lass. one thing.. be my wife?” and you looked at him like he’s crazy. did you not hear what you just said!? you can’t get married.. but..

you start to look at him and your starting to feel a bit more attracted to the man.. maybe you can give this man a chance.

may write something about this when i have the time! :)

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #ghoap x reader #ghoap x you #cod soap #soap mactavish #soap cod #soap call of duty #viking au #cod viking au #x female reader #x fem!reader #x female y/n

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vintagesimstress · 3 months

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A bunch of random WIPs which will hopefully be finished soon (if my PC stops acting up the way it is now 🙄). Most of those things are almost ready for release, but there's always just this one tiny detail left to improve...

Details under the cut in case you're interested!

A loose-fitting Celtic tunic worn over an underdress, in 2 flavours: with narrow and wide sleeves. I made it over a year ago (!!!) and used a lot in my game, but somehow never was fully satisfied with the way those wide sleeves work - so, that's something to take a closer look at. I decided it also needs a new uv map (getting those sleeves out of the sleeves area), so that I could easily add short-sleeved and sleeveless variations. Also, age conversions, at least for a child. Also, tartan. And an overlay for mix&matching. And... 💀

A Roman ship from sketchfab, in 2 versions. This one is basically done, but one of the versions has an exploding shadow lod for some reason, so obviously I have to somehow fix it before release. No idea how though. By making a new package probably, I've heard that works 😅

A Romano-Viking Londinum house, also found on sketchfab, to be used as hood deco. Also was about to be released, but I decided it needs a decent uv map first, because the current one... oh boy. That means lots of seams marking. I think I'm ca. 75% done with this one.

Gallo-Roman earrings, based on a photo found on Pinterest. The mesh works perfectly fine, but I still need to work on the texture. Finding proper lighting settings should be the key - then it'll be just baking and voila!

A CK3 cape converted to TS4. A.k.a. my latest obsession 😉 Still needs some weights etc. tweaking, then age conversions, and then... Off to the next of the looted meshes! 🏴‍☠️ It might be the latest of my projects, but it'll probably end up getting released as the first one from this list 😁

#wips #vintage rambles #vs wips

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homunculus-argument · 1 year

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The vikings had the right idea with hair bleaching. The thing about blonde nordic hair is that it doesn't stay naturally blond as you grow up - living in Finland I see children with bright white hair all the time, but it usually darkens in your teens, and despite of living in a country that's apparently 80% blonde according to this random infographic I googled in 30 seconds and no other sources, but life experience that doesn't contradict that so I'll trust that source, I have never met a person over 25 whose hair is naturally the light hay-colour that people usually think of when they hear the word "blonde". Blond grown adults usually have hair that's a light, sandy brown that gets lighter highlights from sunlight.

Now we could go into the implications of fetishizing features that do not actually really even naturally occur in grown adults, but I specifically wanted to talk about viking hair maintenance. While the sources are consistently unreliable, the image of a yellow-haired viking probably isn't all that historically inaccurate. The theory that vikings washed their hair with a lye soap to kill off lice and fleas, and the claim that they wanted pretty golden hair just because they considered it attractive and didn't consider it a sin for a man to want to be beautiful the same way that christians did, are both valid and as far as I'm concerned I don't see why they couldn't coexist, if they really did bleach their hair. And I believe that if they could, they probably did.

But I do also believe that it wasn't just about scalp pests. Scandinavian hair - naturally the colour of unpaved dirt roads - is quite thick, straight in texture and falls flatly down along the scalp, and it gets greasy quite easily if not consistently maintained. White people really do need to wash their hair several times per week. I don't know about lye soap but I've noticed that the way modern hair bleach brutally strips the hair and scalp of their natural oils actually does make it easier to keep clean.

I've bleached my hair several times before, and at this point I do it for the maintenance convenience of not needing to wash it as often. For the first several weeks after bleaching my hair, I don't even need to use any kind of products to wash it - I simply comb through it thoroughly before showering to get the oil from the scalp through the whole hair, and rinse it with water, and it looks and feels just as clean as it does after washing it with shampoo. While you're apparently not supposed to dye your hair just before having surgery, I bleached my hair completely white the night before top surgery, not just because I was nervous (having never had a surgical operation before) but to help with the maintenance afterwards.

While I'm too old to be fussing about looking pretty, I know how nordic hair works and what it naturally tends to do, so it makes perfect sense to me that vikings - wanting to feel clean and look hot while raiding and pillaging - would bleach their hair just as much for the convenience of maintenance as for the colour.

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rosiethedragongeek · 1 year

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Okay so we all agree that thw is gorgeous, everything about it looks amazing, but one thing that bothers me is that all of the characters look too soft? They look airbrushed and their skin is too smooth and their hair looks too clean?? I feel like the first movie did such a good job, you know their skin had texture and they looked greasy and dirty and stuff, and I feel like we definitely lost that as we went along? This might've been a problem in HTTYD 2 I'm not sure, but I feel like the 3rd movie is the worst offender

i also feel like they changed their teeth as they went along (if i'm not mistaken they were like 15 in the first movie, and by that point you aren't losing anymore teeth (and vikings don't exactly have braces)), like they look straighter and smaller and stuff.

I'm not even gonna get into what they did to Valka bc that was egregious.

#i guess freckles and stuff can fade over time but so many of them had freckles or marks on their skin that just kinda got erased #i miss their first designs they were so feral i love them so much #i was gonna show pictures but then i got super lazy lol #they all had some pretty distinct freckles and teeth and stuff in httyd 1 and i just feel like some of the charm of their designs has been #lost as time has gone on and they've been redone but 'prettier' every time #not really including the shows in this too much because they don't have the animation quality or the production time/money of the movies #but i will say that riders of berk did a good job of making them all look like the little gremlins that they are and i really appreciate #that #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #hiccup haddock #hiccup #astrid hofferson #astrid #snotlout jorgenson #snotlout #fishlegs ingerman #fishlegs #ruffnut thorston #ruffnut #tuffnut thorston #tuffnut #how to train your dragon #how to train your dragon 2 #how to train your dragon 3 #how to train your dragon the hidden world #how to train your dragon thw #httyd #httyd 2 #httyd 3 #httyd thw

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letomills · 6 months

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Download: SFS / Mega

Edit: more body shape conversions in part 2.

These outfits are based on iamliz13's AM Viking Tunics and retextures by Lothere and Wawa. I tweaked them in a few ways detailed below and made age & frame conversions so that the same 110 recolors are available to TM, AM, EM as well as Androgyny TF, AF & EF. The recolors can be either standalone or repo'd to AM-EM (AM & EM share the same mesh and recolors).

All have fat morphs; all have preg morphs except EF. Polycount: 2,162.

Previews and details under the cut.

The meshes

AM-EM (aem) ↓

The mesh for AM-EM is an edit of iamliz13's Viking Tunic mesh (on the same file). I made some mapping and bone assignment tweaks, added a preg morph and redid the fat morph:

I initially made an EM mesh conversion but ended up scrapping it because it was too similar to the AM mesh as the outfit is quite bulky. That's why AM and EM have the same mesh and recolors.

TM (tm) ↓

The TM mesh is on the same file as G-knee's teen conversion so you can use G-knee's TM mesh or mine interchangeably.

Androgyny AF (afAndro) ↓

Androgyny TF (tfAndro) ↓

Androgyny EF (efAndro) ↓

The recolors

The swatches are included in the download. As usual, none of the textures are my original work, credits go to the wonderful iamliz13, Lothere and Wawa.

1. iamliz13

Categorized as everyday and outerwear.

Textures taken from iamliz13's original post.

2. Lothere Well-dressed Viking

Categorized as everyday, formal and outerwear.

Textures by Lothere. I edited them to eliminate the "white seam appears when zooming out" issue on the sleeves (see an example of that issue here).

3. Lothere Saxon Collar

Categorized as everyday, formal and outerwear.

Textures by Lothere. Same edit as above to fix the white seams.

4. Wawa

Categorized as everyday, formal and outerwear.

Textures by Wawa. The "maille" textures were a tad too low, I raised them up.

All AM recolors (and the TM recolors in the case of Lothere Saxon Collar) are on the same files as the linked originals. Beside the edits mentioned above, I also: • deleted the unnecessary blank bump maps to reduce file sizes (on all recolors except the Lothere Saxon Collars, which have functional bump maps) • changed all shoe sounds from heavy boot to normal shoe • enabled all AM recolors for EM and changed clothing categories • changed sortindex numbers so that sets appear one after the other from least to most formal, with Wawa's "maille" recolors at the very end • compressorized and tooltipped everything (as I always do even if I don't mention it every time).

The TM and F Androgyny recolors are on new files and follow the same rules. The Androgyny F recolors are BSOK'd (my usual legacy BSOK, not mfBSOK).

#sims 2 #download #body shapes #androgyny #clothing:everyday #clothing:formal #clothing:outerwear #sims 2 download #sims 2 cc #ts2cc #s2cc #s2cc historical fantasy

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