#he's not self-aware sure so it's not on purpose but

[fairuzfan]

Hey! Ignore if you please but I'm genuinely curious how Muslim leftists are a thing as hierarchy and inequality are inherent in the religion. What is your personal views on it and what does faith mean to you if I may ask?

It's really disorienting for me seeing Muslims who've had pleasant experiences with Islam considering my own experiences have been horrid, having lived in Iran. I understand religion itself is amoral and can be used as a tool but when establishing Islamic law in society is a must in Islam and the abuse it brings about can be justified by the ayat and hadiths within it, isn't it fair to assume that The Purpose Of A System Is What It Does? Like are we ignoring the fact that Iran's supreme leader wants to conquer the whole region and create a single homogeneous Islamic state and his justification is the holy text.

Again I understand that personal faith is different from systematized religion. Tasawuf is pretty cool for example and only focuses on the spiritual connection of self and Allah, that's why I'd like to know your thoughts on it and how it works for you alongside your leftist beliefs.

Thanks 🙏

I'm not gonna lie, this is kind of a weird ask. I'm not Iranian and I can't speak on that but there are billions of Muslims around the world first of all and not all Muslims practice the same. Like, there are different sects of Islam. So to make overarching statements about things that are "inherent" go Islam like this is really odd?? I don't think it's true that inequality is inherent in Islam....

But establishing a single Islamic state is not a 100% must in Islam like how hajj and Salah are...? Like it's not a requirement for you to do as a Muslim. The only things you're absolutely required to do are things like Salah, Zakat, Hajj, etc and even those things have exceptions. The absolute requirement of Islam is to take the shahada and believe in it.

Even between Iran and Saudi Arabia (a government which I hate) there are pretty obvious differences. So like to make Iran the end all be all of what constitutes as a government that operates with Islamic law is kind of a weird assumption to make.

I don't really want to comment on this beyond what I said. It's not like any other government in the world is much better?? Seems odd to single Islam out with the rising Islamophobia that results in the ravaging of SWANA.

But if you're asking me personally why I'm muslim, it's because I grew up being taught that justice is a core principal of Islam. My parents always emphasized "always stand on the side of the oppressed" as something Muslims should do. The hadith that personally always stick with me as a guiding principal is:

Anas ibn Malik reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “Even if the Resurrection were established upon one of you while he has in his hand a sapling, let him plant it.”

And this ayah:

O believers! Stand firm for justice as witnesses for Allah even if it is against yourselves, your parents, or close relatives. Be they rich or poor, Allah is best to ensure their interests. So do not let your desires cause you to deviate ˹from justice˺. If you distort the testimony or refuse to give it, then ˹know that˺ Allah is certainly All-Aware of what you do.

And this ayah:

O humanity! Indeed, We created you from a male and a female, and made you into peoples and tribes so that you may ˹get to˺ know one another. Surely the most noble of you in the sight of Allah is the most righteous among you. Allah is truly All-Knowing, All-Aware.

But yeah I always think back to these ayat and hadith when I need to.

[erosmutt]

lots of people won't like this, but I'm saying it.

If you haven't watched a movie/show of Hayden's (Higher Ground, Shattered Glass, Little Italy, American Heist, The Last Man, etc.) you shouldn't write for his character.

There are SO many people who inaccurately write for his characters and it drives me up a wall.

No, Scott isn't just misunderstood. He's a dickhead, materialistic jock.

No, Stephen isn't ignorant. He knew exactly what he was doing the entire time.

NO, Sam isn't just a hot, goth white boy. He's an asshole junkie brat who's purposely not trying to repair broken relationships with several different family members.

Those are just some examples of popular characters.

I'm so sick and tired of seeing the same shit over and over. Of course, that begs the question: "Then why don't you write it your damn self?"

I DO.

I have multiple things in my drafts. I hesitate to post them because I feel like I'm writing for an audience. Then I realized I'm writing for myself, and people enjoying my work is just a major bonus!

The point of me saying this is that you can't just watch all the Hayden scenes in a movie. WATCH THE MOVIE. There are a shit ton of things he's been in that shows his versatility as an actor, but it seems everyone just lumps all his characters into one category: silly misunderstood babygirl.

There are people who don't write his characters like that, I'm well aware. I just want us to switch it up.

And who knows? Maybe you'll enjoy the movies and shows. If you don't, you never have to watch them again. Just don't write for a character you know nothing about.

Am I a Hayden character connoisseur? Yes. Yes I am. Have I watched all his movies? Not yet, no. I plan on getting through them all.

And... why do we only write for his "most popular" characters? Sam and James are my boyfriends, yes, but for fucks sake, WRITE FOR SOMEONE ELSE!

There isn't a lot of Scott on here. I have yet to see a Leo fic, everyone turns Stephen into nerd!Ani, no Lorenzo, I'm sure none of you have even HEARD of Outcast!! Come on, guys. If I said Jake Hill Conley would anyone have a clue what movie I was talking about? No.

I said all this to say: EXPAND YOUR HORIZONS! The other movies won't bite.

౨ৎ end of bnuuy talk.

[itsjaywalkers]

the most unrealistic thing about the overprotective james series is that james is so popular with girls and always dating despite being completely obsessed with regulus . like wdym this idiot gets bitches??? his gf asks his opinion on her new jacket and james tells her how well it'd suit regulus, she shows him this new eyeshadow she bought and james can only think about how it's the exact shade of regulus' eyes, she wants him to come over and "sure babe but can regulus come too?"

[dailystrugglesofadeletedblog]

why do ppl keep comparing kens part w portrayal of women in men centered media? like huh? women in men centered media are flat one dimensional lamps that exist so that the heros story can progress. ken has a story arc ken has his own agenda. ken has complexity. greta would nt do ken as dirty as male directors would a supporting female character. she understands. she is superior to them. stop this comparison

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

thinking of mermaids AGAIN sooooooooooooooo

Merman!Ghost x Mermaid!Reader (for Mermay 2024)

cw: dubcon elements, rough sex, SELF-INDULGENT and therefore weird mermaid biology, (suspend disbelief idk and idc about mermaid biology, i just wanted to write ghost fucking a mermaid.), forced?-ish breeding (both parties were aware of the risks)

Merman!Ghost who's actually a selkie... of sorts.

Merman!Ghost who took the coat of a GREAT Greenland shark over three centuries ago and has lived as a shark ever since...

Merman!Ghost who's a deep dweller and has become quite the hunter, using the darkness of the depths to attract dumb prey so he can kill them.

Merman!Ghost who's not above mauling humans, in fact he despises them, especially when he finds them hurting animals. Sure, he kills them, but he's an animal himself.

Merman!Ghost who when he's bored causes issues on purpose, including scaring fish and other underwater life, and finds great humour in it.

Merman!Ghost who constantly gives trouble to fishing boats by trying to sink them, slamming his tail on the side of them to send them rocking side to side... and by ripping their nets with his teeth...

Merman!Ghost who has had horror stories and cautionary tales told of him by many navigators, pirate captains, sailor crews... who has become somewhat of a legend, a myth, and gets referred to as "The Creature".

Merman!Ghost who's not immune to mermaid song, surprisingly enough, but who can resist it plenty well.

Merman!Ghost who hears the lilting of your voice through the dark water but doesn't seek you out.

Merman!Ghost who succeeds in resisting... for days, weeks, months...

Merman!Ghost who awakes to the endless sound of your singing bubbling into his ears, and gets lulled to sleep by it as well.

Merman!Ghost who finds himself going insane by your voice, that follows him like a backdrop for every waking moment of his life, and cannot tune it out.

Merman!Ghost who eventually bites the bait and allows himself to rise from his domain.

Merman!Ghost follows your voice as it carries for miles upon miles.

Merman!Ghost who comes across a natural cave by the beach. Way too close to the beach. Close enough for him to know he'll end up washing up and getting stuck.

Merman!Ghost who checks both sides, making sure the beach is empty before he tentatively strips off his coat for the first time in years.

Merman!Ghost who stashes his coat between the rocks, covering it with algae before he dares venture into the cave.

Merman!Ghost who can't see as easily without the shark eyes, who can't swim as well without the shark fins, who can barely walk because all his human muscles are atrophied.

Merman!Ghost who wades in waist deep water into the darkness of the cave, looking around for you, his burly, calloused hands using the rocks as crutches to seek you out.

Merman!Ghost who only notices you when it's too late... when your song suddenly stops and the water splashes as you dive back in.

Merman!Ghost who watches you zoom past him in the water, a slippery fishtail propelling you in a zigzag amidst the rocks before you emerge out of the cave.

Merman!Ghost who watches you grab his shark coat and try to make off with it...

Merman!Ghost who takes his sweet time returning back to the mouth of the cave, watching you bob on the water with a mischievous smirk on your lips.

Merman!Ghost who demands "Give it back."

Merman!Ghost who scowls when you tell him "No." and "If you want it back, you have to marry me."

Merman!Ghost who crosses his arms and glares at you, shaking his head and refusing.

Merman!Ghost who scowls even more when you tell him "Then I guess it's bye bye to your skin.".

Merman!Ghost who despises being a human more than he despises the prank you're pulling on him.

Merman!Ghost who tries to negotiate and offers you something in exchange for his coat.

Merman!Ghost who pushes you against the rocks at the entrance of the cave as the cold water and seafoam wash over you both while he kisses you, pressing his tongue, the only warm part of his body, into your mouth, toying with yours.

Merman!Ghost who licks at the salty sea water glistening on your skin and the scales adorning your pretty neck, an arm wrapped around the small of your back.

Merman!Ghost whose human fingers, pale and wrinkled from the salt water, wrap around your exposed breast, softly tugging on the pert nipple while his mouth kisses and sucks at the patches of skin amidst your scales.

Merman!Ghost who tsk's at you for having been singing for so long to attract him, and scolds you for getting him so riled up for weeks on end with your song.

Merman!Ghost whose hands push you up onto the rocks so he can dip his head down your chest, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, sucking it slowly and watching you mewl and cry so beautifully.

Merman!Ghost who gets a reminder of the one positive side of being a human, as his human cock rises up suddenly and stiffly, large and thick, already oozing precum against your tail scales.

Merman!Ghost who carefully grinds his leaking cock against your slick cunt, right before the spot your thighs meet and blend into a tail.

Merman!Ghost who turns you over, bending you over the rocks, one hand on the back of your neck, the other steadying you around the bones of your hip...

Merman!Ghost who plunges his hooded cock deep into your cunt, causing you both to cry out in delight, eyes rolling and jaws going slack as he bottoms out.

Merman!Ghost who bullies his cock deep into your cunny, feeling how your warm, gummy walls contract and squeeze around him while he groans loudly.

Merman!Ghost who pounds away at you again and again, hearing your voice go high-pitched and squeaky with each snap of his hips, finally shattering the mind-numbing and intoxicating mermaid song he's had stuck in his head for weeks.

Merman!Ghost who watches you squirm and whine as you cum around his thick cock, nearly choking it with how tight you get, before he slams his hips against the back of your tail a few more times, and shoots his cum deep inside you.

Merman!Ghost who watches smugly how blissful, quiet and calm you are after he's done, breathing heavily and your body buzzing.

Merman!Ghost who snatches his shark coat from your hands as you're too fucked out to remember you're meant to keep it out of his reach.

Merman!Ghost who puts his shark coat back on and morphs back to the shape he's comfortable in, then wraps his maw around your tired body, beginning to drag you underwater with him.

Merman!Ghost whose body rumbles with a laugh when you try to get free and loosen his grip on you, demanding he let you go.

Merman!Ghost who tells you "I thought you wanted me to be your husband? Well, I made you my broodmare too... Now I have to take care of you."

[joelscurls]

feel it in your bones

next part

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 12.5k

summary: Two years ago, you finished your PhD and moved to Vermont. In the time since, you’ve gotten a job as a college professor, had your heart broken, and sworn off relationships entirely. Enter Joel, the father of one of your students, here for Homecoming Weekend – and too attractive to resist.

warnings: 18+, minors dni, no outbreak, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), alcohol consumption, fluff, smut, masturbation (f), mutual pining(?), sexual tension, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, cumplay / cum eating, some light biting, use of pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby, etc.), reader has an asshole ex, no use of y/n

a/n: my first Joel fic! This is honestly a bit self-indulgent but I love fall and academia and Joel Miller so sue me okay. ty to my bby @caffeinated-validation for reading through this and offering your insight -- get you a partner who will beta your filthy Joel Miller smut for you lmao <3

You’ve gotten used to being alone. 

You don’t mind it as much as you had a few months ago, the breakup still fresh, every touch of your own fingers seering into your skin when you’d remembered the way he’d touched you, the sound of your voice almost unrecognizable as you’d convince yourself each day to get out of bed and go to work, where you’d inevitably run into him. It was painful then, having to come home to the quiet, always far too aware of the sound of your own thoughts drumming against the inside of your skull. 

Now though, you revel in that quiet. Sip your coffee in silence each morning. You’ve learned how to stay lost in your work, bringing home stacks of papers to grade and eating through texts to support your research while your dinner gets cold on the table in front of you. You’re well aware that this isn’t the healthiest way to cope, to just avoid it all, but it’s better than feeling. 

You’ve sworn off relationships entirely. It’s a silent promise to yourself – that you’ll remain married to your work. You will devote all of your energy to making sure your students excel and that your research is strong. That is your life’s purpose, to make use of the PhD you worked so hard to get – not to be someone’s girlfriend or wife. And you’re fine with that, really. You’ve become immune to loneliness – or numb, maybe.

Regardless, you welcome the independence. You don’t have to worry about anyone else’s thoughts or feelings when it comes to the way you spend your own time. You’re free to do whatever you want. You can draw yourself a bath, fill it with bubbles, sit in it while you drain a bottle of wine into your mouth until the water runs cold. You can eat an entire box of dry cereal in one sitting while you re-watch your favorite show for the twentieth time. You can make yourself cum at any hour of the night with your vibrator or your shower head or your hand – and then go to work the next morning without a semblance of guilt.

Really, you like being alone. 

Until you don’t.

It’s Homecoming Weekend at Sarah’s school. 

She had insisted that Joel didn’t have to come, that it was mostly an opportunity for the college to milk donations out of sentimental alumni. But he’d missed her for the month she’d been gone, the house far too quiet with just him in it. In previous years, Joel had busied himself following Sarah’s departure with home projects. Three years in, though, he’s updated just about every room in the house,  re-done the floors, built a brand new back deck. 

In other words, he’s fresh out of distractions.

So, he’d made the trek to Vermont,  with the excuse that he’d always wanted to experience a New England fall. It’s a lie, one that Sarah can probably read right through, considering he vocalizes his discomfort whenever the temperature drops below 70 degrees in Texas, but she goes along with it. 

Besides, he wants to see what his tuition money is paying for.

In truth, Joel had been nervous when Sarah announced what major she’d decided to pursue. She had just finished her freshman year, prerequisite courses all completed. When she’d said the word – anthropology – Joel hadn’t even been sure what it meant. Since then, she’s explained it to him many times and in truth, he’s still none the wiser. Really, he’s just happy that she’s happy. Her passion for it is evident on her face any time she talks to him about the courses she’s taking, how great her professors are. 

Especially you – she talks about you all the time – her mentor. 

You’re supervising her on her thesis project – a qualitative assessment on students’ views on feminism and gender politics in the classroom. This past summer, Joel swears Sarah had mentioned your name more than her own friends’. She’d told him what courses you teach, what research you’ve conducted, all the countries you’ve traveled to for fieldwork. And she gives the best advice – Sarah had said one night over dinner – she’s like, my lifeline at school. 

Joel doesn’t know you, but he’s thankful for you – for the guidance you so clearly provide Sarah.

There’s an Open House today for the Social Sciences college, which Joel tags along with Sarah to. He’s hopeful that he’ll learn something, come to understand the field and why Sarah loves it. 

A buffet table stocked with refreshments sits on one side of the lecture hall. Sarah grabs them both cups of water infused with cucumber while Joel saves them seats at the back. There’s a slideshow projected onto the white board at the front, the current slide reading: An Introduction to the Social Sciences College & Our Current Research Efforts. A group of professors gathers at the front, name tags stuck to their button-downs and blazers. Sarah spots you as she sits down, pointing you out as she hands Joel his water.

“There – that one’s my mentor – the one in the plaid pants.” 

Joel’s eyes follow her finger to the group at the front,  scanning down the line. There’s a man, short and stocky with noticeably small hands hooked by the thumbs in the belt loops of his pants. Next to him, is a woman, taller than him, wearing a bright turquoise silk shirt, gold bangles decorating both of her wrists. And next to her is you, in the plaid pants.

Sarah had told him a lot of things about you, but she’d never mentioned that you’re fucking gorgeous. You’re smiling at something Turquoise Shirt has just said to you, and it’s like your entire face is glowing. Joel has to take a sip of water to collect himself.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you for the entirety of the presentation. 

The dean of the college starts by briefly covering each department and what research efforts they have planned for the semester. Joel should be listening, he came here to listen – but he can’t get himself to focus on anything other than you.

You’re mostly focused on the presenter. Every so often, though, you distractedly toy with the buttons on your cardigan or twirl a strand of your hair between delicate fingers. And Joel is suddenly realizing how touch-starved he is after years of refusing to date – because just watching you, your hands – is about to send him into orbit.

You’re well-spoken too, he learns, when you take the microphone to discuss your current research project. 

“This semester, I’ll be delving into the presence of food deserts in Vermont, and the effects these are having on the overall health of youth in the state,” you say. “We have received a sizable grant for this research, and I am thrilled to get started in a matter of weeks. This project will span the better part of the academic year as I speak to locals and craft surveys that will provide qualitative data to support my findings from the field.”

You press down on the clicker in your hand. A new slide projects onto the whiteboard. It’s a photo of you against the backdrop of a jungle, lush, green trees stretching past the top of the frame. The wide-brimmed hat you’re wearing covers most of your face – but that damn smile radiates through the makeshift screen.

“This is me last summer, in Peru. My research here was much more self-indulgent – I studied the important role that food plays in the average family there – and ate wayyyy too many sweets.”

The crowd laughs. It’s the first reaction they’ve expressed this entire time. 

It’s entrancing, the way you command the room. You have such a calm confidence about you as you speak, words never once faltering as you stride back and forth across the front of the lecture hall.  Joel isn’t much of a talker – maybe that’s why he feels like he could listen to you for hours on end. He thinks that you could read the damn phone book and his focus would remain unwavering. That your voice, velvet-soft, could spellbind him without much effort.

When your portion of the presentation ends, he’s more than a bit disappointed.

Students and their families filter out of the lecture hall. You situate yourself in a corner of the room for the actual Open House portion of the event, at the ready to answer any questions or, more likely, offer directions to another part of campus.

You smile as familiar faces and strangers alike pass you, reach for your to-go mug on the table behind you, and take a sip. The coffee is pretty much ice-cold now, but you still gulp it down, only after the caffeine anyway.

You place the mug back down with a light thud against the tabletop. Suddenly, a voice you’ve come to know well rings in your ear. 

“Professor!” 

When you look up, Sarah Miller is bounding down the aisle, signature smile plastered across her face. And there’s a man behind her, you notice, moving much slower. 

He’s tall, broad shoulders pulling taut against the green flannel he’s wearing. He cradles a beige workwear jacket in the crook of his bicep,corded muscle visibly bulging against fabric. His other hand rubs at the scruff along his jaw, pointedly sharp in the patches where hair doesn’t grow.

He has a distinguishable nose, you notice as he gets closer,  strong – large and hooked at the center of his tan face. It’s complemented perfectly by his plush, pink lips that seem to be set in a permanent pout.  

In other words, he’s handsome – almost distractingly so, as he stands next to Sarah in front of you.

“I’m so happy to see you,” she beams – turns to the man next to her.

“Dad, this is my mentor,” She says your name. 

He nods. His eyes meet yours. They’re deep brown, almost black – and undeniably entrancing. 

“‘‘ts nice to meet you, Ma’am. I’m Joel.”

Ma’am.

It’s not like the word is foreign to you, given your profession. There’s something about the way he says it, though, that makes your head spin, his southern drawl dripping in honey-butter and bourbon. 

Joel outstretches a hand. You shake it – try to ignore the way it dwarfs yours.

“Joel,” you repeat, eyes locked firmly on the space between his eyes. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“That was a great presentation you gave up there. You’re a good, uh – talker.” His expression is unreadable. His hands fidget at his sides.

You offer him a smile. “Thank you – I think? My students probably wish I would shut up sometimes. Right, Sarah?”

“Oh please,” she scoffs, “as if you’ve never seen your rating on Rate My Professor.” 

She’s not wrong – you pride yourself on having pretty stellar reviews – but you also try your hardest not to let them get to your head. Sarah isn’t helping that, right now.

“Anyways,” she exaggerates the word, “what are you up to tonight, Professor? They’re holding an exhibition at the art center later, all student work – d’you wanna come with us?” 

Your reflex is to say no. After all, he’ll probably be there. Your ex, Quentin, works in the art history department. And even though you’re over him, you’re not exactly looking for an excuse to be in the same room as him. But you technically don’t have plans tonight, and you can’t even think of a good lie right now with Sarah staring you down. 

And then there’s Joel, standing in front of you, all broad shoulders and chiseled jaw – and you think, what a great opportunity to get to know him, you know, as the parent of your student. Definitely not as anything else, anything more. It is Homecoming, after all.

So, you say yes. 

“Cool!” Sarah smiles, “Meet you there at 7?”

You nod, tell Sarah that sounds perfect, and that you’ll see them tonight. 

Sarah starts toward the door. But Joel stands there for a moment longer. His eyes linger on yours, his wordless stare threatening to burn a hole in your head. You can feel the heat of it, beads of sweat beginning to form at the base of your neck. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying your hardest to conceal them. 

A beat passes. It looks like he might say something, his mouth opening then closing again.

He gives you a courteous nod, turns on his heels, and follows after Sarah.

Joel hadn’t remembered the food being this bad when he’d visited for orientation. He struggles to keep down a particularly rubbery bite of chicken and reaches for his water bottle, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he focuses on not vomiting. 

Sarah laughs next to him. “Hey man, at least you don’t have to eat this shit year-round.”

He grunts in agreement. “Gonna cancel your meal plan next semester and jus’ give you the money to buy groceries.” 

She hums. Cocks her head. “That means I’m gonna have to learn how to cook – do you think Student Housing has fire insurance?”

Joel wants to roll his eyes, but it’s definitely his fault – after all, he can barely fry an egg without setting off the fire alarm. Their freezer has always been well-stocked with TV dinners and tater tots. So instead, he just shrugs. 

“So what’s this art thing tonight?” He moves on to the salad on his plate, decidedly much safer. 

“I don’t really know – my roommate asked me to go, she has some pieces in it, I guess.”

He nods. “And your professor – that was nice ‘a you to invite her.”

Sarah nods, smiles. “Yeah – you like her, right? I mean, you’re sure you’re cool with me asking her to come?” She asks, a mouthful of lettuce.

“‘Course,” he says, attempting to keep his voice level, nonchalant.

“I know you’re not really one for meeting new people,” she teases.

He mock-glares at her. It quickly softens into a smile. “Nah – she seems cool.” It’s an understatement, but Sarah doesn’t need to know that.

She doesn’t need to know that her dad is attracted to her professor.

Joel thinks that he might not have been so great at hiding it, though, when a few hours later, in the middle of watching an unarguably bad student production of Macbeth, Sarah turns to him and whispers that she’s not feeling well. 

“Hm, is that right?,” he whispers back, unconvinced. 

“Yeah, must’ve been the food.”

“We ate the same thing, Sarah.”

There’s a shout on stage. The actor’s voice cracks.

“Well I dunno,” she continues, “My stomach just doesn’t feel good.”

“Yeah, and what about that thing with your professor?”

He can see her smirk even in the dim lighting. 

“Shit, you’re right. And I don’t have her phone number, so it’s not like I can text her...” 

She groans. Joel thinks she should be on that stage right now. 

“We can’t just ghost her.” Joel has no idea what that means. He doesn’t bother asking. 

“Sarah-” he starts.

“Please. She’s such a nice lady, she doesn’t deserve to be stood up.”

He could say no. It’s not like he knows you, owes you anything. But in truth, Joel does want to see you again. And he’s well aware that Sarah might be trying to set the two of you up – ever-perceptive and hell-bent on her dad being happy – but he tries not to think about how embarrassing that feels, his daughter playing matchmaker for him. Because he wants to spend more time with you, get to know more about you, if you’ll let him.

He’s barred himself from forming any kind of real relationship with a woman since Sarah’s mother left. Not because she’d broken his heart, but because he’d needed all of his energy to go to Sarah. As a single father, he had always feared that he wouldn’t be enough for his daughter – wouldn’t give enough – that growing up in a broken home would leave her half of a person. That fear had fueled him to be the best dad possible – to work overtime so that he could provide for them, to never miss one of her soccer games or dance recitals. And so, he had never even considered dating, not seriously, anyway. It would take attention away from Sarah, and he couldn’t risk that. 

He’s found it difficult to shake this principle, now that Sarah has grown up. He often grapples with the fact that Sarah doesn’t need him as much anymore – that she’s her own person living her own life. He knows he could date now, could meet someone new, open his heart to them. But he’s so used to fighting that human need for companionship, that it feels almost unnatural to let his guard down.

But now there’s you – your megawatt smile and your impressive intelligence and your care for his daughter – and suddenly he’s forgotten his own rules. 

“Okay; I’ll go.” It comes out entirely too enthusiastic.

He can practically feel Sarah’s accomplished, shit-eating grin burning into the side of his head.

You leave campus around four pm, once the last of the Open House participants have gone. 

You take a shower when you get home. Then you order sushi – stuff rolls of yellowfin and salmon into your mouth as you sit at the dining table still wrapped up in your towel, trying your best not to spill soy sauce on the half-graded essays that litter the tabletop. When you’re done, you retreat to your closet, treading on damp feet across the waxy hardwood floor.

And you definitely don’t think about Joel – not when you debate what to wear to the art exhibition, not when your fingers accidentally graze one of your nipples as you put your bra on, not when you get distracted while pulling your panties on by the pool of wetness that has formed between your thighs. 

You definitely don’t think about him – because he’s Sarah’s dad, and that would be wrong.

So it’s accidental when his name falls from your mouth, fingers pressed against your clit, visions of large, calloused hands flashing behind your closed eyelids. 

You cover your mouth with the curve of your palm to prevent it from slipping out again. Sink back into the mattress.

Then you press your fingers down harder. 

Joel feels like a first-year student, wandering aimlessly across campus in search of the art center. Sarah’s directions had been, well, brief. She’d insisted he’d be able to find it no problem. Now though, in the limited light of dusk, all the structures look the same, bleeding together like watercolors against the evening sky. 

He does find it, eventually, a three-story brick building tucked between the library and what looks to be a dormitory. Bright, artificial light seeps through the windows that line the bottom floor. The double doors at the front are propped open, people slipping in and out of them as he approaches. 

He looks for you outside, searching for a familiar head of hair, the brown cardigan you’d been wearing earlier. When he doesn’t see you, he reluctantly makes his way up the stairs and into the building.

He spots you almost immediately affixed in front of a painting, studying it intently.

You’re wearing a different outfit than the one you had on this afternoon – a merlot-colored slip dress and a cropped leather jacket. He struggles to ignore the way the satin clings to you, the curves of your body excruciatingly accentuated. He has to remind himself that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, shouldn't expect you to stick around for long once he lets you know Sarah isn’t coming. You’ll probably make an excuse to leave shortly after, and he’ll be back on Sarah’s couch within the hour. 

After all, why would you stick around just to talk to him?

You don’t see him when he sidles up next to you. He clears his throat and you startle. 

“Sorry,” he brings a hand to the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to spook ya.” 

You take a step back to face him and put a hand to your chest, your breath beginning to even. His eyes wander, for a moment, to where your fingers rest against your collarbone. 

“Shit – it’s okay. Where’s Sarah?”

“She wasn’t feeling well, but she said I should still come. Is that – uh – is that okay?” He’s suddenly worried that this was dumb, that he shouldn’t have come, should’ve just let Sarah explain to you on Monday.

But your features soften then, a small smile forming between rosy cheeks. 

“Joel, it’s fine; I appreciate you not ditching me.”

“‘Course,” he manages. He’s waiting for you to say something else – that you need to leave. But you don’t, and you both stand enveloped in the pregnant pause that lingers, bright overhead lighting and nerves giving Joel the start of a migraine he’ll have to ignore for the rest of the night.

He clears his throat. Turns to the painting in front of you. “So what’s this one, then?”

The painting in question is a mish-mash of shapes and colors. Joel can’t distinguish any one thing on the canvas. It’s all just a lot of…nothing. He knows it’s not for him when he thinks a preschooler with finger paints could’ve done this.

You bring your hand up to cradle your jaw, brows furrowed in contemplation. It looks like you’ll offer an actual, intellectual interpretation. So Joel isn’t prepared when instead, you say: 

“Looks like a bad trip.”

A laugh bubbles out of him, the corners of his eyes creasing. 

“Sorry,” you say, between giggles. “That was stupid.”

“No,” he says, swiping a hand over his jaw, trying to physically rub the embarrassing smile off his face. “You’re funny.” 

He means it. He’s not sure how it’s possible that you’re funny, when you’re also so smart and interesting and gorgeous. It’s almost unfair. He thinks, fleetingly, that you’re way out of his league – a boring, old man like him.

You continue to the next piece, Joel following closely behind. It looks like it must be by the same artist. The same variation of shapes fill the canvas, just in different colors.

“Alright Cowboy, what’s your take on this one?” 

Joel studies it for a moment – tries to find something he can pull out. Something tangible. Something funny, even. 

He comes up empty.

“‘ts interesting f’sure. Lots of…colors,” he tries. He realizes how ridiculous he sounds. Laughs. “Shit…art ain’t really my thing,” he admits, arm stretched behind his head.

“So what is your thing?” Your voice is tinged with something – Joel tries his hardest not to let himself believe that it’s flirtation. 

Your eyes are still fixed on the canvas in front of you. And Joel is thankful, because he thinks if you looked at him, let those eyes meet his, he’d break – tell you that right now, you’re his thing.

He doesn’t get a chance to answer either way, though, because he’s interrupted by a man’s voice behind the two of you. 

“Wow. Didn’t expect to see you here!”

You whip around to face him. Joel turns too. The man is taller than you, but shorter than him. He’s wearing round, wire-frame glasses that sit like a suggestion on his nose, and a full suit, with a tie that has some god-awful, ugly pattern all over it. It looks like the art here, Joel thinks.

Joel’s eyes flit back to you, and he watches as your hackles go up. You back up, bumping into the canvas behind you. You curse under your breath.

“Quentin. Hey.”

“Glad you could make it,” the man, Quentin, says. He swirls a cup of what appears to be red wine in one hand. He leans in closer, brings the other hand up at the side of his mouth to conceal his words. “I know this isn’t really your scene.” 

You shift uncomfortably. “Yeah,” you say. “I’m uh, venturing out, I guess. Trying new things.” 

He laughs. It’s an asshole laugh, Joel notes. Everything about this guy screams asshole. 

“About time!” The asshole puts a hand on your shoulder. You flinch. Joel’s hands instinctively bunch into fists at his side. 

“So proud of you,” Quentin says. “Finally letting yourself be a little cultured.”

This guy can’t be serious.

You scoff. Grab his hand and flick it off your shoulder. He looks wounded. Good, Joel thinks. 

“Yeah, because traveling the world has left me so very uncultured, Quentin.”

“Hey,” he puts his hands up. “Don’t take offense, baby. I know your little field trips are important, too.”

It’s the last straw.

In one movement, you’re pushing off the wall, shoving past Quentin, and making your way to the exit. Joel doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even look at the asshole, just follows after you out the door. 

It’s gotten colder in the short time he’d been inside, he notices. A gust of wind nips at the exposed skin on his hands. He stuffs them haphazardly in the pockets of his jacket.

He finds you perched on the front steps, arms wrapped around your body protectively. He takes a few cautious strides forward. When you look up at him, you’re visibly distraught. 

You groan as he sits down next to you. “Sorry. That was embarrassing.” 

Joel wants to touch you, put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, but he knows he probably shouldn’t – not right now. 

“‘ts not embarrassin’,” he says, instead. His warm breath materializes in the cold air. “Not for you, anyway. That guy was clearly an asshole.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “That was my ex-boyfriend.” You’re  both quiet, then. The two of you sit there, side by side on the stairs, in comfortable silence. A few minutes pass. Joel notices you chewing on your bottom lip, like you’re considering something. When you speak again, your voice wavers.

“Would you want to go for a drink or something? It’s just, I really don’t want to be here anymore.” 

For a moment, he can’t believe what he’s hearing – you’re asking him out? He takes a second to respond. You start to backtrack. “It’s okay if you don’t wan-”

“Hey,” he stops you. Makes sure you’re looking at him. 

“I thought you’d never ask, darlin’.”

You breathe out a laugh. “Great.” Your hand drops to your side, brushing against his. He expects you to move it. He’s thankful when you don’t.

“I know a place–” you continue – “one that won’t be full of drunk college kids.”

“Great,” Joel parrots you. He stands, extends a hand to help you up. You take it, letting your palm rest against his for a moment longer than necessary when you’re upright.

“Cool,” you say, clearing your throat. You pull up the Uber app on your phone. Joel watches you book a driver. Then you turn back to him with a smile. It’s different from the one he’s seen before. It’s smaller, shyer.

“Larry will be here in 4 minutes,” you say.

The bar is a twenty minutes’ drive from campus – fifteen with Larry’s lead foot.

It’s more of a lounge than a bar, really – leather armchairs accompanied by low cocktail tables arranged throughout the single large, open room. A brick fireplace sits on the back wall, currently roaring with warm orange flames. 

On either side of the fireplace are floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with vintage books, their illegible titles etched in gold along weathered spines. You can imagine that their pages are yellowed and dusty, and it’s so tempting to swipe one off the shelf to see, to smell.

The light in here is warm, a stark contrast from the bright white of the art gallery. It’s comforting, and you feel your body immediately relax when you walk through the entrance next to Joel.

The bar at the front is busy (it is Saturday night, after all), so you and Joel stand at the back of the crowd for a few moments, waiting for the people in front of you to get their drinks. When a group of men start forcing their way through right next to you, Joel immediately puts a large hand on your shoulder, turning your body towards his. He’s just being chivalrous, making sure you don’t get shoved, but it still sends a shockwave up your spine.

When a spot clears in front of the bar, Joel steps forward, bringing you with him. He orders a whiskey neat, then turns to you, asking what you want. 

It’s difficult to think with his hand still on you, so you go with the first words that come to mind. 

“Same as you.”

He stares at you for a moment, amused, like he can see right through you and the fact that you’ve never had whiskey in your life. But you hold his gaze, challenging him with your eyes, and he drops it. “Make that two,” he tells the bartender.

Once you have your drinks, Joel slaps a few bills down on the bar. You can tell he won’t let you do so much as offer to pay him back, so you don’t. You lead him through the lounge to a couple of chairs tucked away in the back corner, partially hidden behind an antique wooden partition – far enough from the main seating area, but still close enough to the fireplace that you can feel its warmth.

This is where you always sit when you come, usually with coworkers, once or twice with him. Quentin had been pretty critical of this place, like he is with everything. He’d complained that the wine selection could be larger – that they could have more French options. When you’d explained that most of their wines come from local vineyards, he’d just rolled his eyes.

You’re still reeling a bit from your interaction with him at the gallery, even as you settle into soft leather and feel a burst of warmth against your cheek. He was such an asshole, you think, taking a cautious sip of whiskey. You’re immediately repulsed by the taste of it, and you do a poor job of hiding the grimace that automatically spreads across your face in the crook of your arm.

Joe laughs across from you. “Not your thing? I can go grab ya somethin’ else,” he offers.  

“No,” you insist, “this is fine. Just need to get used to it.” It’s a lie – you both know it – but he doesn’t push it. 

Instead he leans back, swirls his own glass – which looks comically tiny in his grip – and lets out an exaggerated sigh. 

“So, your ex is a real dick, huh?”

“You can say that again,” you mumble. 

He quirks a brow at you. “Why’d you even date him?” 

It’s a fair question. Why had you dated him? Loneliness, maybe? You’d like to blame it on that, but it’s not the truth – not entirely. Quentin had been kind, at first. He had seemed so interested in you and where you came from and what you were passionate about. He was a relatively good boyfriend, all things considered – until he’d grown tired of hiding who he really was.

You’d gotten a substantial pay raise at the end of your second year at the university. When you’d told Quentin, he’d gone quiet – practically gave you the silent treatment for days on end. When you’d finally worn him down, gotten him to talk, the most he could utter was that he was happy for you; he just wasn’t sure why he hadn’t gotten a raise like that yet. 

It’s not like you were in competition – you worked for two entirely different departments, in different colleges. But it had been a constant losing battle nevertheless, to get him to stop comparing your successes. And when he’d found out you actually made more money than him – that had pretty much been the nail in the coffin. 

You tell Joel all of this. You’re not sure why you do – it’s not like you can blame the alcohol after one half-sip of whiskey. You feel comfortable with him though, here, like this. He’s a good listener, too, attentively nodding every so often as you ramble. 

When you’re done, he’s quiet. He stares at his drink, pursing his lips. 

After a beat, he looks up at you. 

“You deserve better than that, darlin’.”

You almost crumble under his gaze. His eyes are at least two shades darker than they had been a moment ago – and there’s something lingering behind them that you can’t quite place. Whatever it is has you feeling weak.

“You barely know me,” you joke. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I know enough, though. Could do much better than him, I reckon.”

You want to ask him if he has anyone in mind, if he would be better for you, but you can’t – not yet – not this sober. You take another sip of your drink, breathing through your nose as it burns its way down your throat. 

You talk for hours. He asks about your family; you tell him how you moved out here two years ago on your own after you finished your doctorate program. He’s impressed by that, says you’re brave. You tell him you’ve never felt very brave. 

It’s all so easy, talking to Joel in the dimly-lit bar you’ve been to so many times before. Sipping on whiskey as if you actually enjoy it. It’s never felt so much like home — not the bar, not this town. The thought is dizzying.

He asks about Sarah, too, how she’s doing in school. He insists that she doesn’t tell him much, and if she does, it’s about you and how great your classes are. 

“I had never even heard of anthropology before she decided to study it,” he admits. “But I’m glad she did. It’s her thing, f’sure.” 

You smile, knowingly. “Yeah, it is. She’s a great kid, Joel. You raised her well.”

He shakes his head humbly, but you don’t relent. You want him to hear this, really hear this. Because you get the feeling he hasn’t been told enough. 

“She’s not just smart, Joel. She’s good. She’s a good person. That’s kind of rare nowadays — especially among her generation.” 

Joel chuckles, his head hanging between his shoulders. 

“I mean, shit,” you continue, “she brings me pancakes from the diner just off campus whenever she knows I’m stuck in my office working late. My other students barely even ask how I’m doing most days.”

Joel hums in amusement. His eyes are locked on a wrinkle in the leather of the arm of his chair.

“Joel,” you say, pointedly. You wait for him to look at you. When he does, his gaze is uncertain. “She’s a good person —“ you repeat — “and that’s because you raised her to be.”

“‘ts just southern hospitality, is all,” he mumbles. 

“No Joel – it’s you.”

He stares for a moment, his dark eyes narrowing. His jaw twitches. And then he breaks, finally, a smile pulling at his lips. 

“Thank you.”

His voice is so soft suddenly. It throws you off. It also turns you on – like, a lot, the gravellyness of it scratching your brain and your loins. You dig your nails into leather in an attempt to steady your quickening heart rate.

“No problem,” you mutter sheepishly.

Suddenly, there’s a buzz on the table – Joel’s phone. He picks it up, squinting at the bright screen.

“Sarah?,” you ask.

“Nah, ‘ts just my brother, Tommy.”

He types out a quick response and re-locks the phone, placing it back down on the table.

“Everything alright?” 

“Yeah, jus’ asking if I think hookin’ up with a client is a bad idea,” he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.

You don’t know Tommy, but you like him already – seems like a fun guy. And clearly values his brother’s opinions. It’s telling, you think.

“That’s right – you’re a contractor. You and your brother work together?”

“Yeah, we got our own business back home.”

“And you like it?,” you ask. 

“Used to,” he laughs, “when I was more limber.”

You laugh too. You can feel the heat of slight intoxication, and something else, in your chest, your inhibitions dissolving in your bloodstream. And suddenly that horrible idea you’d had earlier to flirt with Joel doesn’t seem so bad anymore. 

“Still look plenty limber to me, Mr. Miller.” The words leave you before you have the chance to stop them.

Joel’s hands tense on either arm of his chair. Despite your buzz, you still have half a mind to worry that you’ve fucked up, that there’s a chance you’ve misread this whole thing.

But then he sinks back in the chair, the leather groaning under him. He rakes his dark eyes over you. And the way he’s looking at you is unmistakable. He looks hungry. You feel like your entire body has been set ablaze. 

Without thinking, you stand up, take a couple of steps toward him. Scan the lounge. Most of the remaining patrons are huddled by the bar, talking boisterously among themselves. Tucked in your little corner, the two of you might as well be in a different zip code.

“Whatcha doin’, darlin’?” Joel smirks up at you as you stand unmoving in front of him. He takes one of your hands in his and traces gentle, reassuring shapes along the back of it with his index finger.

Without a word, you hike your dress up to your thighs and straddle him, knees digging into the leather on either side of his legs. He hums approvingly as you sink onto his lap and cup his face in your hands. He places his own on your lower back, just above your ass. “This okay?,” you ask. It comes out breathy and wrecked.

“C’mere,” he says in that syrupy drawl, and then one of his hands is on the back of your head, pushing you gently against him, your lips slotting to his. 

It’s messy and all-encompassing. He kisses you with a fervency that confirms this hasn’t all been in your head –that he’s been wanting this too. 

The voices of bar-goers and the clinking of glassware are suddenly muted. All you can focus on is Joel — the way he tastes like whiskey and cinnamon gum, the way one of his large hands comes to rest at the nape of your neck, fingers tangled in the hair there while the other remains on your back, steadying you. The way he licks into your mouth after a few seconds with a groan, causing you to reflexively bare down on his lap.

You feel his cock swell underneath you and you grind against it, laughing low and quiet against his lips when his entire body tenses. He pulls back, blinking up at you with glazed-over eyes. Joel, all six feet of him, looks wrecked.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he pants. He looks down at where you’re hovering over his now fully-hard cock. “Gotta stop. Otherwise you’re gonna make me cum in my pants like a damn teenager.”

You pout at him, lifting your lower half off of his. You don’t stand up, though – not immediately, anyway. Instead, you take his head back in both of your hands. He lets you, blinking up at you wordlessly. 

You’d known when you’d first seen him earlier today that he was handsome, but right now, his face so close to yours – you’re seeing all of the little details – the scar indented in his forehead, just above his right eyebrow; the flush that stains his cheeks, which you can guess is partly from the alcohol, but maybe also from you. He’s biblically gorgeous, which makes it difficult to pry yourself off of him.

You do though, after a minute, smoothing down your dress once you’re back on two feet. You feel a bit breathless, suddenly. And exhausted.

What time is it? 

You retrieve your phone from where it’s been lodged in the cushion of your chair. 

You tap on the screen, waking it up. 

12:47?! When had it gotten so late?

Joel stands, adjusting himself in his pants. You can’t help but giggle at him — big, tough man looking positively ruined after just a few minutes of being under you. You feel pretty accomplished. He rolls his eyes at you. 

“Shut up — just get us an Uber.” You don’t miss the smile that sprouts between his cheeks when he thinks you aren’t looking.

You wait outside for your driver — John M.

The cold Vermont air is sobering. You feel almost normal by the time the car pulls up, save for the dull, throbbing ache between your legs. You will it away as you crouch into the back of the silver Nissan behind Joel. The sound of the radio playing soft rock hits is a poor distraction on the drive home.

“Wanna come in?,” you ask Joel when the car comes to a halt in front of your building. You watch him ponder it, eyes glued to the roof of the sedan. But ultimately, he shakes his head. “Can’t,” he says. “Gotta check on Sarah.”

You nod, try to hide your disappointment. “Right.” 

You open the door. Just as you’re about to get out, Joel stops you. 

“Wait,” he says. “Can I see your phone?” You’re confused, but you hand it over. You watch as he pulls up your contacts and clicks the ‘plus’ button in the corner, an understanding smile pulling at your lips. 

When he hands the phone back, his contact now in it, you grab his from off the seat next to him and do the same. 

“I’ll text you,” he promises as you step out. 

You turn back to him. “You better.”

He’s smiling when you shut the door.

You’re smiling when the car pulls away. 

It’s only when you’re tucked into bed, phone charging securely on the nightstand that the thought crosses your mind: you’re catching feelings for someone again. 

And then you feel sick.

Joel wakes up the next morning feeling giddy. It’s like he’s a teenager all over again – waiting by the phone for a pretty girl to call him back. Only this time, he’s waiting for a text.

He had messaged you almost as soon as he’d gotten back to Sarah’s apartment last night, asking if he could see you again before he goes back to Texas. He has no shame about it, he can’t – not when his entire mind and body are consumed by his overwhelming attraction to you. 

He’d found it difficult to sleep last night, and not because the springs in Sarah’s cheap couch were digging into his already-damaged back. It was thoughts of you, and the borderline-painful erection they caused, that had kept him up.

Now, with the sun seeping through the living room windows directly into his eyes, he doesn’t have much of a choice but to be awake. He checks his phone immediately, and tries to ignore the way his heart sinks when he sees you haven’t responded yet. You’re probably still asleep, he tells himself.

He tosses his phone aimlessly back onto the couch and stands with a groan. His legs feel worse than his back, if that’s even possible. 

Sarah still isn’t awake, so Joel meanders into her kitchen, in search of something to eat for breakfast. It’s pretty much what you would expect from a college student’s kitchen – bare bones. There are a few suspicious containers of leftovers in the fridge along with a Brita water pitcher and a package of cookie dough. In the freezer, several cartons of ice cream (all chocolate) and half a loaf of bread. And finally, in the cabinets, a few boxes of mac & cheese and an unopened jar of peanut butter. 

Toast it is, then.

Sarah appears just as he’s raiding her drawers for a butter knife. “Morning,” she announces sleepily behind him. 

“Hey, Kiddo,” he says, turning to face her. “Hungry?”

“Yeah. There’s a diner down the street. Thought we could get pancakes.” She yawns.

Joel grins. That must be the place you’d told him about – the one Sarah brings you leftovers from when you’re working late. 

“You buyin’?,” he jokes. 

“Only in exchange for the juicy deets from last night.” She pauses. “Okay, maybe not all the deets. There’s some things I don’t need to know – like why you got home so late.” 

“Sarah,” Joel warns, but she’s undeterred, smiling like a Cheshire Cat with every one of her unbrushed teeth on display.

“Just get changed,” she says, and skips out of the room.

You’ve been staring at the text for twenty minutes now.

Had a lot of fun tonight. Can I see you again before I leave? Let me know if you’re free tomorrow (today I guess). - Joel

You should say yes – you want to say yes – so why can’t you get your fingers to move? 

It’s a stupid question. You know why – it’s Quentin and your inability to shake the fear that someone  else will hurt you like he did. If you keep Joel at arm’s length – continue to ignore his message – he can’t do that. You can just take last night for what it was – a fun time, a hookup – and stop this before it goes too far, before feelings get involved.

Because it never ends well, once they do.

You get out of bed without responding, but you leave the text open on your phone. You attempt to busy yourself with housework and grading. Again and again though, you find your fingers hovering over the screen, your mind wandering to the way Joel’s lips had felt on yours, the way the bulge in his jeans had felt against your clothed heat, the sound of his southern drawl when he’d called you darlin’. 

Then you snap yourself out of it and place the phone face-down on the table.

This goes on for hours, a vicious cycle. You feel your resolve slipping more and more each time you pick the phone up.

The sun is high in the sky by the time you break, light bathing your kitchen and revealing all of the spots you’d missed when you’d dusted earlier. Your phone is heavy in the palm of your hand like a bomb – like if you don’t hit send right now, you’ll lose the motivation and it’ll detonate, taking any chance of you seeing Joel tonight and not self-sabotaging with it. 

You close your eyes when you press the button and toss your phone somewhere across the room.

Well – you think – no going back now.

Joel is sitting on cold, hard bleachers at the Homecoming football game when he sees you’ve responded, the shouts of people in the stands around him not enough to avert his attention.

Hey, yeah, that would be great! Do you want to come to my apartment later? I have a bottle of wine we can crack into if you’d like. And I can order pizza.

The announcer is saying something about player #72 over the loudspeaker. He doesn’t tune in. 

Joel types his reply and sends it:

Sounds perfect. I’ll come over around 7?

Sarah groans next to him. “You wanted to come to this game, dad. If you’re bored already, can we leave?”

His eyes shoot up. “No, uh – sorry. Just had to answer one text.”

Sarah narrows her eyes at him. They dart to the phone just as another message rolls in, your name flashing across the screen before Joel can hide it.

“Is that my professor?”

Joel doesn’t answer. His silence confirms enough. 

“I knew you guys hit it off last night! See, dad, even though you didn’t wanna tell me at breakfast, I still found out. I always find out. Because Sarah knows all.” She attempts a maniacal, Disney villain-esque laugh. 

Joel raises an eyebrow at her. 

“You done?”

“So you going out again later? Do I need to make your bed on the couch, or should I just not bother?”

He ignores her. Someone gets a touchdown and half the crowd goes wild. He doesn’t bother to check what team scored. 

He opens your latest message, instead.

Perfect. See you then, Cowboy ;)

His breath hitches at the nickname, at the thought of you calling him that again in person. The thought of kissing you again, if you’ll let him.

He doesn’t catch who wins the game.

Joel arrives at your apartment at seven o’clock on the dot. 

Punctual, you note.

He’s holding a bottle of wine, gripping the neck with long, calloused fingers. 

“Know you said you had some already,” he says as he steps over the threshold. “Just didn’t wanna come empty handed.” 

The sentiment takes you aback. You’re not exactly used to dates bringing you gifts, especially ones this expensive, if the minimalist yet fancy label is any indicator. 

“Thanks,” you say awkwardly, taking the bottle from him. You can’t quite make out the name – something foreign, etched in cursive. 

“‘ts Italian, I think,” he mumbles, as if he can read your mind. 

Your eyes shift from the bottle to Joel, standing in front of you in his Carhartt jacket, brows furrowed, gaze trained on the floor at his feet. 

“Thank you,” you say more genuinely this time. 

Joel smiles appreciatively. You motion to the space behind you.

“Come in.” 

You lead Joel to the kitchen, just off the entranceway, and place the bottle down on the counter, gently. You tuck yourself in the corner, leaning back to rest your arms on cool granite. Joel mirrors you against the adjacent island. 

“How’s Sarah?” you ask. “Feeling any better?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, rubbing at his scruff. “She was askin’ about you. Saw me textin’ you.”

“Yeah – guess you couldn’t exactly hide this from her, staying at her apartment and all.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Guess not.”

You pop open the bottle of wine. Pour glasses for both of you. Then you order pizza: one cheese, one sausage and pepper. The person on the other end of the line tells you it’ll be thirty to forty minutes. 

“Gonna be a bit of a wait,” you tell Joel when you hang up. “Busy night, I guess.” 

He nods, takes a sip of wine, and then places the glass down, his eyes unmoving from yours. 

You realize then that he’d been staring at you the entire time you were on the phone. The way he’s looking at you – gaze the same as the one from the bar last night when you’d straddled him – has you feeling suddenly nervous.

“What?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“Can I kiss you again?” he asks.

Oh.

You breathe out a laugh. It’s not funny – really, the opposite – but you hadn’t been expecting him to ask that. “Joel-” you’re going to say yes – fuck yes – but he interrupts you. 

“Been dyin’ to since last night.” He’s so open, so earnest. It’s fucking hot.

“Joel,” you say again, louder this time. He freezes. His eyes widen, like he’s anticipating your answer. 

“Please.”

It’s all he needs to hear. In an instant, he crosses the distance between you. He places his hands on the counter behind you, framing your body with his. You peer up at him and, fuck – he looks ravenous. 

He kisses you – hard. His teeth crash against yours. It’s messy and hurried, but you don’t care – you want him closer, need him closer. 

Your head swims with memories of the feeling of his bulge against your clothed core. The need to feel it again is all-consuming. You’re greedy for it. And with the time constraint, you don’t want to wait another second. 

You pull back abruptly. Joel furrows his eyebrows where he looms over you, concerned.

“Joel,” you pant,  “I need you.”

It takes him a second to compute what you’re asking. And then he’s nodding furiously.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Okay, darlin’.”

You pull him back in with a hand at the back of his neck, digging your nails into the skin there. His tongue slips into your mouth with a groan. You’re minutely aware of him shrugging his jacket off, hearing the light thump it makes when it hits the linoleum. And then his hands are on you, wandering up and down your body like he needs to feel every inch of you. He tugs at the base of your t-shirt impatiently. 

“Off,” he mumbles against your lips. You pull back only to do as he’s asked, and then you’re right back on him, sucking a bruise into the skin below his ear, your body claiming him subconsciously. His head falls back momentarily, revealing his bobbing throat. You scrape your teeth lightly along the skin there, eliciting a groan from Joel. 

Your mouth continues exploring his neck as his fingers find the clasps of your bra, unhooking them quickly and tossing it aside. You don’t see where. You don’t really care – you’ll find it later.

He grabs your now-naked sides and steps back, pulling you with him. Then he turns you and pushes you back against the island. 

He slaps the countertop behind you. “Up,” he breathes against your neck. You don’t argue. You don’t want to argue. You’re so used to being the one in charge, the one in control — right now you’re happy to bend to Joel’s will.

You grip the edge of the island with both hands and hoist yourself up so that you’re perched there, legs dangling.

Joel’s fingers immediately go to the button of your jeans, popping it open before moving to tug the zipper down. And then he’s helping you lift your hips so that he can pull them down and off. He adds them to the pile at his feet.

You’re left in nothing but your underwear splayed out on your kitchen counter in front of him. You feel like you should be self conscious, maybe even embarrassed by your depravity. But you can’t find it in you to be either, not when Joel is slotted between your legs, his dark eyes scanning over you hungrily. Showing you he needs you just as bad as you need him.

He rubs his hands over your thighs and up the sides of your body, mapping your curves with great concentration. “God damn,” he whispers, what seems to be, mostly to himself. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You whine pathetically. Your patience is growing thin.

He smirks up at you, likely seeing in your face how desperate you are for him right now. 

“‘ts okay baby, I got you,” he coos, suddenly sinking to his knees in front of you. His hands move closer to your clothed pussy, but not quite there, tracing light circles along your inner thighs. Then he replaces his fingers with his mouth, sending your hips bucking off the counter, chasing him.

The coarse hair of his mustache scratches the skin surrounding where he sucks and bites. You don’t care. You just want to feel it lower, against your dripping folds.

“Please,” you breathe, shakily. Through hooded eyes, you catch Joel’s satisfied grin. You realize then that he loves this — making you beg for it, for him. It’s a dizzying contradiction to the way he was practically begging to kiss you just moments ago.

He presses a chaste kiss against your skin, his lips infuriatingly close to where you need them most.

“Whatcha need, darlin’?” he purrs. The vibration of his voice just next to your core has you spiraling. 

“Need your mouth,” you cry. “Please.”

“Where?” He nips at you, half an inch closer to your swollen clit. You can feel his breath. Your cunt reactively clenches around nothing. 

“On my pussy, Joel” you plead. 

He pulls away from you completely, looks up at you with devilish eyes.

“Good girl.”

He dips one finger into the side of your underwear, pulling them aside to reveal your glistening core. “Damn baby, you’re soaked,” he drawls. You catch the hint of pride that tinges his voice. 

“Please,” you beg again, your voice wanton and broken.

Joel gently pets your throbbing clit with the pad of his thumb. The pressure he applies is feather-light, barely there. But still, after all the teasing, you can’t help the embarrassingly loud moan that escapes you.

He chuckles darkly. “Alright sweetheart, I know – enough teasin’.”

He hooks both index fingers in the top of your panties, pulling them down and off in one swift movement. And then his tongue is on you, exactly where you need it. 

He holds you open with fingers digging deliciously into the meat of your thighs as he licks long, languid stripes from your leaking cunt up to your clit, over and over again until you’re a whimpering mess underneath him. You struggle to hold your weight up on your elbows, watching him as he works you with his mouth.

He’s so good at this – too good at this. You tell him as much, between broken moans. 

“Sofuckinggood Joel – holy shit.”

You swear you can feel him smirk against your heat. 

He buries his face into your cunt then, nose pressed against your clit, and swivels his head back and forth, coating his mustache and beard in your arousal. He groans against you, like this is getting him off just as much as you. It’s all so obscene, so filthy.

You’ve never had a man go down on you like this – like they actually enjoy it. But then again, it doesn’t come as much of a surprise, not when it’s Joel. You’ve quickly come to learn that he’s attentive in every sense of the word. Knows just what you want, what you need – evident by the way his lips latch back onto your clit when you keen for him.

He keeps his attention there, switching between suckling on it – which is enough to make you see stars on its own – and lapping at it with short, shallow flicks of his tongue. He experiments with different angles, licking at different spots on the bundle of nerves until he finds the one that makes you cry out, your babbles of there Joel, yes, right fucking there, don’t stop, letting him know exactly where to focus. 

You feel yourself quickly hurtling toward the edge. You just need a little bit more to get you there.

“Fingers,” you pant. “Need your fingers in me.”

Two of his fingers are at your entrance before you can even blink. You’re so wet that he slides them in easily, curling them against your walls. He expertly finds your G-spot, massaging it as his tongue continues to lap at your clit.

You gasp at the combination. It’s so good – so much.  “Oh my god Joel, I’m so close,” you cry.

He doesn’t let up, doesn’t even look at you. His eyes are closed in concentration, fingers and tongue unrelenting. He’s lost in your pussy. You can tell he’s not going to come up for air until he’s given you an orgasm. 

And it doesn’t take much longer – one, two, three more strokes of his fingers and you’re cumming hard.

Your vision blurs and your ears ring in your head. You’re vaguely aware that Joel is pinning one of your thighs down with his free hand to hold you in place as you thrash against the countertop. 

He fucks you through it, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he continues to curl them against that spot, your clit throbbing against his tongue. 

It is – without a doubt – the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. 

He doesn’t stop when you’ve come down, eager to milk every last drop from your weeping cunt. The overstimulation is too much. Your grip tightens in his hair, weakly attempting to pull him off of you as you whimper nonsense above him. You manage to exhale his name, or something close to it, and he finally lifts his face.  

His eyes meet yours, dark and hooded. He looks absolutely pussydrunk.

The entire lower half of his face is soaked with your slick. His shiny, pink lips pepper kisses along your inner thighs, smoothing over the spots he’d marked with his teeth just minutes ago. You feel so sensitive – you shiver under his touch. 

His smile curves into your skin. He leaves one last light peck and stands up, grunting at the ache in his knees. You laugh, but you can tell by the darkness still looming in his gaze that he’s not done with you yet.

He helps you off the counter, steadying you with hands gripping your sides as you find your footing. Your legs feel like Jell-O, a welcomed side-effect of the earth-shattering orgasm you’ve just had. You lead Joel to your bedroom, leaving your clothes scattered across the kitchen floor.

He backs you toward the bed as soon as you’re in your room, lips latched to the side of your neck. The backs of your legs hit the mattress, and then he’s lowering both of your bodies onto it, cradling your head in his hand as you settle underneath him.

He sits back on his knees, pulling his t-shirt over his head to reveal his broad, tan torso. You’re pretty sure you’re salivating, lost in the slope of his shoulders and the wide expanse of his chest. Your eyes trail lower as he undoes his belt, followed by the button of his jeans. He shimmies them off along with his boxers, his large cock springing free, tip shiny with pre-cum, and hovers back over your eager body. 

He dips down and presses his lips to yours, prying your mouth open with his tongue. He’s remarkably patient for how hard he is, his erection pressing into your thigh as he kisses you, slow and wet.

One of his hands grips your jaw, the other pressed firmly against the mattress next to you. Minutes pass like that, you and Joel losing yourselves in each other. Then you remember that you don’t have all the time in the world – that your delivery driver could get here any minute. In truth, you’re not even fucking hungry anymore – not for pizza, anyway.

You snake your hand up to the back of Joel’s head, pulling at his roots lightly. “Joel,” you breathe when he lifts off of you, “please fuck me.”

He doesn’t have to be asked twice.

“How do you want it, baby?” he purrs in your ear, his warm breath skating over your skin. “How do you like it?”

You breathe out a moan. No man has ever asked you how you like it. They usually just give you a few sloppy, ill-timed thrusts, whatever they can muster before cumming and leaving you unsatisfied. 

But Joel isn’t just any man. 

“Hard,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me hard.”

He growls, low and dark. “‘ts right, sweetheart.”

He lines himself up with your entrance, rutting against your folds a few times to gather some of your wetness with the tip of his cock.

Then he sinks into you, slowly, stretching your walls as he notches further and further in. There’s a sweet, stinging pain, one you hope, fleetingly, that you’ll be able to feel tomorrow – like a keepsake from him. 

You sigh when he reaches the hilt, his tip nudging your cervix. He stills, letting you get used to his girth and you have to dig your nails into his back to keep from writhing under him. You don’t mind if it hurts – you just need him to move. 

“Please,” you whine, unable to stop your hips from bucking any longer. “I can take it, Joel.”

“Know you can, baby,” he coos, beginning to rock slowly inside of you. The pleasure is immediate, washing over your body like a warm wave.

He picks up the pace when he’s sure it feels good for you, dragging his cock halfway out of you and thrusting back in, over and over again. 

He grabs both of your legs, bending them so that you’re spread wide open for him, and grips the backs of your knees tightly as he slams into you. He can get so much deeper like this, his cock hitting a spot you didn’t even know you had. You let out a labored moan, fingers anchored into his delts.

“Talk to me darlin — tell me how it feels,” he pants.

“So – fuck, Joel – so fucking good.”

Joel drops his mouth to your shoulder, nips at the skin there. 

His voice is in your ear, a low snarl.

“‘Better than that fuckin ex, I bet.” 

You’d be annoyed by his cockiness – if he wasn’t so right.

But he is, and so you parrot, “So much better.” And then, because it’s the truth, you add, “the best.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hips stuttering at your words. “Can’t say that angel, you’ll make me cum.”

He pulls out and slams back into you again, setting a new, devastating pace. He fills you up just to leave you empty, over and over again. You’re a babbling mess underneath him, couldn’t string two more words together if you tried. Luckily, Joel is happy to take over and do the talking. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, babygirl. Make the most gorgeous noises, too.”

You’re so fucking close, you can only whimper in response. You feel your walls tighten around him.

He presses your foreheads together, his sweaty curls sticking to your skin. His eyes bore into yours. 

“C’mon baby, show me – show me how pretty ya are when ya cum on this cock.”

He brings one hand down to your clit, rubbing sloppy circles over it as he continues spearing into you. You hike your newly-freed leg up over his lower back.  A white heat licks at your spine. You barely have time to tell Joel you’re about to cum, your warning coming out a single cry of his name. He gets it, though, bringing you over the edge with his words. 

“I got you, baby, I got you; you can let go.”

Your orgasm barrels through you, from the tips of your toes all the way up to your ears. Joel doesn’t let up his ministrations, talking you through it as you writhe under him. 

“Thaaaats it. Good – ahh – good fuckin’ girl.” 

The only word you can think of in your state of euphoria is his name, chants of Joel, Joel, Joel spilling from the back of your throat as you cum.

You’re squeezing his cock through your aftershocks, and you can tell he’s close by the way his thrusts become more and more uneven. 

“Fuck – where do you want it?” he braces both palms against the mattress on either side of you.

“Inside – please, Joel,” you beg. “I’m on the pill.”

He curses in ecstasy,  cumming seconds later with a series of low grunts. His hips stall as he spills inside of you. There’s so much of it – he’s nearly drowning your cervix, coating your walls with rope after rope of his spend. 

He softens inside you, staying there for a long moment as you both come down from your highs. You’re sweaty, panting messes, and you can’t help but giggle at how spent you both sound. 

“Good?” he asks, nosing at the space just below your jaw. It’s so soft, so gentle. Your stomach does a backflip.

“Yeah,” you say. “Really fucking good.”

He pulls out of you with a low, guttural noise. You sigh at the loss of him, your hand coming down reflexively  to feel where he’s leaking out of you. His fingers graze yours, and he bumps them aside to scoop up some of your combined fluids. 

He brings his wet, sticky fingers to your lips, humming when you immediately take them into your mouth and suck them clean, eyes unmoving from his the entire time. You bat your eyelashes at him, innocently as he pulls them out with a wet pop.

“Fuck,” he curses, “gonna get me hard again, angel.”

He lays down next to you, letting his head thump against the pillow, and flexes his biceps behind his head. You kind of hope he does get hard again, despite the fact that your whole body feels like liquid. Like if you were to try and stand, your legs would most definitely give out on you. They’re trembling right now, where you have them half-bent, heels dug into the mattress.

Your phone rings, then, snapping you out of your post-coital bliss. Fuck – the pizza.

You answer, trying your best to hide the undeniably fucked-out lilt of your voice as you tell the delivery person that someone will be right down.

Joel laughs next to you when you hang up. “I’ll get it – hold on.”

He jumps out of bed and dresses quickly. You’re gawking at him as he does. You can’t help it. This man – probably the hottest man you’ve ever seen – was just inside of you. You want to pat yourself on the back. He notices you staring as he’s zipping up his jeans and shoots you a wink.

Joel deadbolts your front door and disappears into the hallway. He returns moments later, shutting and re-locking the door, and strides back into your bedroom with both boxes. You can see the steam coming off of them through the cardboard. 

He sets them down by your feet.

“In bed?” you ask, sitting up against the headboard. 

“Well I’m not sure you can walk to the kitchen, darlin’.”

Your face heats. He has a point. But he doesn’t have to be so smug about it. You roll your eyes at him and mumble something nonsensical under your breath as you tuck yourself in under your duvet.

“What was that?” He quirks an eyebrow.

Long gone is the shy Joel from earlier this evening. He knows your body now, knows how hard he makes you cum. He’s a whole different man post-coitus – bolder. It makes you damn near melt.

And maybe you’re different now too. Because you’re pretty sure you’d give up your vow of solitude for him, if he asked.

It’s crazy, probably. You’ve only known Joel for two days, after all. But you can’t help the way that he ( and his dick) makes you feel. Like maybe there’s a promise of something down the line, however serious that something may be. You just know you want to give yourself the opportunity to experience it, no matter how it ends.

“Nothing.” You break, grin pulling tight at the corners of your mouth. “Just get me a slice of cheese.”

He lets his gaze linger for a second longer, the faux-threat of it heating you from the inside out. And then he’s vanishing into the kitchen, returning with two plates and a stack of paper towels. 

He dishes up slices for the both of you, climbing into bed next to you and handing over yours. 

He settles in with a content sigh.

You both eat in happy silence for a few minutes, Joel giving you a satisfied nod when he finishes up his first slice. “‘ts good,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food. 

“Right?” you retort. “It’s my favorite pizza around here.”

He hums in agreement. Pulls the box of sausage and pepper onto his lap to grab another slice.

“So,” you start, “you’re heading home tomorrow?” It’s more of a statement than a question. You know he is. But still, part of you wants Joel to say no, tell you that he’s canceled his flight, that he’s decided to stick around for a bit longer. 

“Yeah,” he says. You feel your heart sink. You silently curse yourself for being delusional. 

“Are you excited?” you try. “To be home?”

He doesn’t respond right away – his forehead wrinkling and his lips falling into a small frown. You watch as he thinks on it. 

“Not really,” he admits after a few seconds. 

“I know you’ll miss Sarah,” you say, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. 

He peers down at you with a heavy sigh. “So much…” His voice trails off, like there’s something else he wants to add, but can’t. 

The air feels thick, suddenly – heavy. You try your best to lighten it.

“Can’t stay a bit longer? Let Tommy run things for a while?”

“No,” he laughs. “Pretty sure he’ll just end up screwin’ every client we got.” 

“And you’d end up screwing every one of Sarah’s professors,” you tease. 

His mouth falls open in mock-offense. He grabs at both your sides, suddenly, letting the open box of pizza slide off of his lap and onto the bed. He tickles relentlessly just under your ribs, causing you to squeal and squirm under his grip.

“Joel,” you cry in between fits of laughter. “Stop!” 

“I don’t think so, darlin’,” he tuts. He removes one of hands momentarily, to toss your plate aside, and then he’s hooking one of his legs over your body, straddling you. He looks so big like this, his body hanging over yours. You feel content – safe. His hands release you, finally, coming to settle on either side of your head on your pillow. You blink up at him. He’s staring down at you with narrowed eyes. 

“What?” 

“Nothin,” he mumbles. “‘ts just, I wouldn’t, ya know. Sleep with anyone else, I mean. If you didn’t want me to.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You know that if you respond, it’ll come out way too eager. So you just blink at him again. 

“Would you want to keep talkin’ after I get home?”

Yes, you want to say. Please. I don’t think I could go on without knowing if I’ll get to see you again – fuck you again.

You swallow. Collect yourself. 

“Yeah. I would.”

You shimmy under Joel so that you can sit up. He straightens out, shifting his weight onto his knees. Takes both of your hands in his and pulls you up.

His eyes are still locked on yours. “I know we just met this weekend,” he says. “But I had a lot’a fun with you. I like you.” 

Your cheeks warm. “I like you too, Joel.” 

He smiles. “‘m glad.”

“Doesn’t have to be anythin’ serious,” he continues. Lets his fingers trace aimlessly along the inside of your arm. “We can jus’ see where it goes.”

“Yeah,” you nod, your heart squeezing in your chest. “See where it goes. I like that.” 

And it’s the truth. You do. In the stillness, your legs tucked under the covers, Joel caressing you, you feel, for the first time in a long time, happy to not be alone. And you know you will be again, very soon, when Joel leaves to go back home. But then again, you won’t – not really. His voice will be there, a phone call away, and his body will be there, in the divot he’s left in your mattress. And you’ll have the promise of taking this slow, seeing where it goes. 

You’ve never been so excited for the future. 

end notes: tysm for reading! I may turn this into a series if people want more of these two <3 lmk hehe

[igotanidea]

Strain: Jason Todd x reader

A/N: nsfw themes. Not explicit but still, so I'd rather put MDNI here.

***

Every touch every move every stroke had only one single purpose.

To bring her pleasure.

And judging by the soft moans and gasps of delight he was doing quite a good job at it.

"Mmh...Jay..." she whimpered.

"Like that, princess?" He made his voice deeper only to tease her more.

"Yes, please... So good, don't stop..."

"I won't" he leaned to plant a string of soft kisses on her delicate and exposed neck. In return she gripped the sheets, her body responding to the caresses and rocking it's been subjected to. And Jason couldn't help but grin from complacency.

At this point he was becoming rougher, compressing her body like something that belonged to him, that only he knew how to handle and worship in the right way.

How to make her satisfied.

"You're so responsive and I love it..." he gasped pawing her skin and every curve.

"Cause your working in all the right places..." she whined her voice a little muffled from the fact that her face was buried in the pillow. "Though I believe you're getting too excited..."

"Yeah, you're still so tense Princess."

"Yeah it's been a heavy week..."

"Don't worry, we'll get rid of that in no time... Just forget that and relax with me..."

His hands moved lower on her body, getting more curious, wandering in all the right places as he kept moving. What was even more exciting, was that she couldn't see him, as she was lying on her belly. It made all the situation even more bone-deep cause as she was focusing solely on the touch and not other senses.

"Oh yes...."

"Here?" He pressed on that one spot and she moaned in acknowledgement. "Guess it's here then..." He smirked while continuing his attack on the new found place.

"Shit!" She whined arching her back a little "it hurts!"

"I know baby but trust me you'll feel better in a moment..."

For a few good minutes the silence in the room were being torn only by the groans and rustling of the sheets and after then a deep sigh of relaxation made Jason aware he finally reached his goal.

With a signature smirk he pulled back and laid next to her side searching for her eyes.

"Feeling better sunshine?"

"Much better, thank you. Dare I ask where you learned all that things?"

"Self education." He grinned

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, see those muscles?" Jason pointed at his chest and body "they did not come from nothing. And with all the soreness i had to deal with throughout I had to learn a thing or two about anatomy. Guess it came handy tonight huh?"

"I'll be sure to use your sevices more in the future."

"Sure thing princess" he kissed her forehead affectionately "I'll get you a regular customer discount."

"Tease!" she nudged his shoulder.

"Hey!" his reaction was immediate and took a form of grabbing her wrist "behave princess, you know my massages are good for your health and posture, you have no contrargument to that."

"Ok, fine! fine! They are. But unless you want me to use someone else's services you'd better accept payment for kisses."

Jason groaned in frustration.

She always knew how to take away any words of objection from him.

So what else could he do rather than accept his fate, nod his head and enojy the little smooches all over his face in the form of thanks for his professional rub down?

[suiana]

✎ yandere! loser headcanons . . .

✎ warnings . . .

― stalking, manipulation, delusional yandere, mentions of p0rn, slight nsfw, stockholm syndrome (?) etc.

(gn! reader x male yandere! oc)

✎ yandere! loser who's basically a shut in, rarely coming out of his apartment except for compulsory lessons at university. he's a huge loser, shit talking others during games, messy apartment, dark eye bag circles, always ordering delivery for his food... he's practically the embodiment of the word loser! if it weren't for his rich parents he would not survived a day past his 18th birthday.

✎ yandere! loser who sees you as his salvation, the only hope in his dark life. through your streams he found purpose in his life - to be with you. and when he found out you went to the same university as him? he just knew that you were meant to be with him! why else would you speak his username so lovingly every time he donates to you?

✎ yandere! loser who's obviously a big virgin. I mean, what would you expect from a guy who hasn't held a girl's hand since he was 5? plus he doesn't even come out of his apartment! the most experience he has is from the pornography he used to watch. don't worry! he doesn't watch it anymore! because now all he has to do is imagine you sucking him off and he cums instantly. he's a true loser. but he's your loser, yours! :D

✎ yandere! loser who stalks you both online and physically. at this point he knows more about you than all of your friends do, maybe even you yourself! he's also the type of guy to like something you posted 69 weeks ago just because he liked how you looked in it. but does one post from long ago matter when he literally spam likes everything you post?

✎ yandere! loser who tries to rizz you up with tips and tricks he read online from sites like Reddit. he read all those success stories in the Reddit comment section so surely it must work out for him too, right?! wrong. because when he tried to pin you against a wall and call you 'baby', you only snorted in laughter, calling him funny and walking off with your friends. why didn't it work?! it was from user @/masterrizzler3000 on Reddit so it should've worked! he's sad now :(

✎ yandere! loser who isn't actually that bad looking. if he put in some more effort into his appearance he would've been a solid 10/10 in your opinion. but unfortunately he doesn't and that brings him to a 6.5/10. don't worry, there's something about his loser self that makes him cuter :) and that's when you decided to give him a chance and go out with him. best worst mistake of your life.

✎ yandere! loser who's actually a pretty good gaslighter and manipulator, so good that you actually agreed to date him. though he isn't aware that he's actually manipulating you so to him, you're falling for him because you genuinely love him. looks like religiously watching monster and death note worked for him. and that kids, is the story of how I (21m) landed myself a solid 100/10 with my loser self!!! -him, probably.

✎ yandere! loser who believes wholeheartedly that you and him are meant to be. sure, you may be a little more lifeless than you used to be, he's not sure why, but you love him! you tell him that every morning after you wake up in his bed! the soft 'i love you's' and 'im yours' from your sweet mouth are practically proof that you love him too, right?! fret not, for he loves you too ♡

✎ "please! I'll die without you-! you... you won't let that happen, would you? haha... of course you won't. you love me after all ♡"

[seelestars]

WHO CONFESSES FIRST ? (sunday, aventurine)

a/n : i apologize for being super super duper inactive… motivation has been hard for me to find, but now w penacony i feel more inspired! and luckily, im on break so hopefully ill be able to write a bunch more (*≧∀≦*) my writing might not be the best rn, im still slowly trying to ease into writing so do forgive me </3

sunday

- I feel like he would be the type to confess first

- he’s a bit shy about it, but he tries his best to not let it show ! (●´ω｀●)

- he would plan out the whole thing meticulously, making sure everything is exactly how he wants it to be during his confession

- if even one thing is out of place (ex. it rains) then he completely reschedules it

- he’s unsure what gifts to get you, so he ends up getting everything that he thinks you’d like !

the weather was perfect for a stroll, or even for mundane relaxation. sunday could feel himself grow nervous as he patiently waited for you to arrive. his hands were filled with flowers, chocolates, and cute little trinkets that reminded him of you. he knew it would be quite unusual if other people spotted the head of the oak family out in a very populated area while holding a bunch of gifts, so he decided to make sure not a lot of people would be around at this hour.

soon enough, you had arrived. your eyes immediately widened as you gasped at the sight of the plethora of things he had gotten you. “sunday… is this all for me?” you state at him in awe, your eyes softening at the slight rosy tint that adorned his cheeks. if you looked closely enough, you could notice the way his wings fluttered gently at the sound of your voice.

“…yes. it’s all for you.” sunday responds, averting his gaze as he braces himself to ask the question he’d been dying to ask. “it’s because I wanted to ask you something. …will you allow me to be your boyfriend?” to really make the moment seem more sincere, he builds up the courage to meet your gaze. his heart was beating incredibly fast as he eagerly anticipated your response—which would hopefully be a yes.

“awww, of course I would!” you laugh softly as you put the gifts you’ve received to the side, tackling him into a warm embrace. “all of this was very sweet of you.” you hum, looking up at him with a gaze so loving it made him shudder and fluster. it was obvious sunday was unused to receiving such affection as he smiles awkwardly, finally able to calm down now that you’ve agreed to date him.

aventurine

- now I feel like he’d push you to confess on purpose once he is sure the feelings he harbors for you is mutual

- he plays hard to get, acting oblivious to your attempts at hinting at your affection for him

- he just can’t help but keep on playing such a game—your determination is so cute to him ! ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

- he gives you just enough hope so that you’d persist with your attempts at courting him

- despite how he makes it seem like your tries don’t have much of an impact of him, he’s thinking about it day and night

you don’t know what gave you this sudden burst of confidence, but you were starting to regret it. though, you supposed it was too late now as you were already tapping on aventurine’s shoulder to grab his attention. “h-hey, can I ask you something?” you try your best to appear self-assured as you hide the gift you had for him behind your back.

“ah? it’s rare for you to be asking me things out of nowhere.” aventurine smirks in amusement as he turns around to face you, raising his eyebrows. “it must be a very important question… one that you can’t rest peacefully without knowing the answer to~” he hums, subtly teasing you. of course, he knew the reason behind why you suddenly decided to grab his attention. he was aware of your feelings for him, after all.

“…yes, you’re right. It’s a question I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now.” you sigh, narrowing your eyes at him once you picked up on his teasing. “before I ask you… you won’t judge me or laugh at me in case you find the question foolish, right…?” aventurine didn’t even have a chance to answer that question as you have already started to talk again. “w-will you date me?!” you nervously pair your confession with the gift you had for him—a box of his favorite perfume.

there was an awkward silence between the both of you for a while. you knew it, he would never want to date you. he seemed out of your league, with many better options surrounding him. but then, to your surprise, his response was one that wasn’t rejecting you. “why not?” aventurine could feel his grin widen as he looked at the perfume, then up at you. his boldness shocked you, as it caused him to give you a quick peck on your lips. “haha! look at you! redder than any wine out there~” he teases, though it ultimately earned him a playful smack.

[gr444nde]

just us | felix catton

felix catton x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, cursing, and SMUT. (OH MY GOD?!?!)

! lowercase intended !

word count: 7.3k (GIRL WTF??)

girls on campus would often flock around felix catton. i mean, did you understand why? of course, but it was unnecessary. especially at random hours of the day. they all just wanted to get in his pants and you were sure he knew that too. felix is used to having people hang on his every move, whether at campus, social gatherings, or parties. at times, it can be annoying and disruptive, but typically, he's just glad that the girls are chasing after him. he’s not interested in dating or anything serious. however, he knows that he's attractive and charming, and will use that to his advantage by having fun and flirting with the girls he meets without any commitment.

you found the whole thing stupid, but who were you to judge on other’s crushes or someone’s popularity. felix thinks it’s hilarious that people would flock around him like that. he has no problem with being approached by girls, but he finds the entire scenario so ridiculous. he enjoys the attention, and he can’t help but make fun of the girls who are throwing themselves at him. he can’t be bothered to get to know any of these girls, and he finds the whole thing so pointless. instead, he likes to have a bit of fun with them, leading them on just to see how far they’ll go. he’s a bit of a player, and he's fully aware of it. those girls were getting mind-fucked by felix and didn’t even realize it.

felix’s friends, especially his cousin farleigh and his sister venetia, are often annoyed when he’s approached by girls, because it always seems like he’s not appreciating the situation. they always warn him that he should at least act interested, but he just laughs it off and continues to make fun of the girls who are approaching him. you didn’t even realize how long you were staring until felix’s piercing stare seems to pierce right through you as he studies you, looking you up and down slowly, making you feel like he’s undressing you with his eyes. his expression is calm, but there is something predatory about it, like he’s sizing you up, testing you, assessing your responses and reactions. you sense that he knows exactly what he’s doing, and it’s as if he’s playing a game with you, toying with you.

you quickly look away, going back to writing in your journal with a knee to your chest, and your other leg dangling off the bench you’re sitting on. you try to keep writing in your journal, but you can’t help but notice that his gaze hasn’t left you and that he’s still leaning against the tree. even though you’re not paying him any attention, he’s making you feel all sorts of things, the way he stares at you, the way he watches you moving and how the sunlight hits your skin. you have to admit he’s quite handsome, despite his arrogant attitude and predatory gaze.

you were getting ready to go back to your dorm room back at oxford anyways. as you put your books back in your bag, the stares from felix never leave your mind. felix’s piercing stare never left you, and it’s hard to ignore his gaze. you start to feel nervous and self-conscious, but something about the way he’s looking at you is also a bit exciting. you feel like there’s a magnetic pull. you don’t dare to leave yet, you want to see this through. you wonder if he’ll come and talk to you; if he decides to make a move. you decide that you should just leave, so that’s what you do. surprisingly, felix didn’t follow you. the way he was staring, you would’ve assumed he wanted something.

you make your way back to the dorms, thinking about the interaction with felix and feeling irritated that it was all for nothing. he had been staring at you for so long and you thought that there must be a purpose for it. he had been acting quite mysterious. but you reach the dorms and you realize that he hadn’t followed you, and although you expected that, you feel a bit disappointed when he didn’t even stop to talk to you, nor seem to care. whatever, you moved on with your life.

three weeks later, you’re walking back to the dorms from the library when you see felix crossing the road. he’s headed in your direction, but he doesn’t seem to have spotted you yet. you can see some girls trailing behind him, looking in his direction and giggling to each other. the scene is amusing, and you can’t help but laugh, thinking that the girls must all be infatuated with him again. just as you thought he hadn’t spotted you, felix suddenly stops and looks around. you try to turn your head away, hoping he’s not looking in your direction, when suddenly he walks straight towards you with a grin. the girls behind him seem surprised and caught off guard, but they continue to follow him. you’re shocked that he saw you and even more surprised that he’s walking toward you. what does he want?

felix approaches you with a devilish grin, his charming smile plastered across his face. he looks you up and down slowly, seemingly taking in every detail of your appearance. before you can say anything, he pats your shoulder “i’ve been looking for you.” there’s a sense of amusement in his voice, and you can’t help but feel nervous and a bit flustered by his boldness. you laugh through your nervousness. “really?” you ask.

“oh, absolutely,” felix grins, leaning in a little closer. “i saw you on campus a few weeks ago, and i’ve been wanting to talk to you ever since. i just couldn’t figure out how.” his tone is playful and confident, and you find yourself getting swept away by his charm. you smile at this. “do you mind if i walk with you?” felix continues, smiling at you, his eyes piercing and his tone playful. he seems to think he’s got you charmed because of his smile and that makes him even more confident. this game of cat and mouse is fun for him. “be my guest.” you giggle.

“perfect,” felix smiles, his grin growing wider. he walks beside you, his body mere inches away from yours, and he keeps a close eye on you the entire time. he’s enjoying the game, he even glances back at the girls behind him to make sure they see him with you. the feeling of him being so close is both exciting and slightly unsettling. “you don’t even know my name, do you?” you look up at him. felix is quiet for a moment, seeming stunned that you challenged him. he looks at you and smiles broadly, his eyes full of mischieviousness. "no, i honestly don't," he says, and then he chuckles, "but i'm very curious to find out."

“y/n.” you smile. felix raises his eyebrows in playful amusement, making a show of pretending to be awestruck. "a lovely name. what does it mean?" he asks. “no idea.” you chuckle as you look down at your feet. felix can’t help but notice the way you look down at your feet when you laugh, the way your hair falls over your face, the way your lips curl up into a genuine smile. you seem so innocent, so pure. his entire demeanor changes, and he suddenly leans in close, his tone flirtatious and gentle. "it doesn't matter; it suits you."

“thank you.” you can feel a blush creeping onto your face at his words. felix is amused by how easily flattered you are, but he likes it. he enjoys seeing you blush. "tell me," he continues, his voice still soft and flirtatious. "are you always this shy?" he asks. “that depends on who im around.” you answer. "am i making you nervous?" he teases. his tone is playful and teasing, but he keeps it gentle. he's enjoying this interaction; your shyness is quite endearing. you can't help but get the feeling that he's playing with you, seeing how far he can go with this. “hm. maybe a little.” you chuckle.

"a little, hmm? just a little bit?" he asks, his tone still gentle and light-hearted. he leans in even closer so his body is just inches away from you; his breath is warm on your neck. you get the feeling that this isn't just about making you shy and nervous, he actually seems interested in you too. your eyes locked with his. all he has to do is lean in a little bit further, and his lips would meet yours. you can feel his breath on your skin, and your face is beginning to heat up. it's as if he knows exactly how to make you blush.

as felix leans in closer, you can see what he’s trying to do, and although you might want the same thing, you put a hand on his chest, stopping him from making any more moves, just shaking your head with a small smile on your face. felix's eyes flicker with surprise when you gently push him away. he has a look of amusement on his face, like he's trying to keep the smile off his face. he's not used to having a girl refuse him. but rather than getting angry, he seems intrigued by your boldness. your confident rejection makes him want you even more. he chuckles as you shake your head, his gaze meeting yours with a mischievous grin.

you smile as you look up at him. “well i have to get to my classes now, but it was nice talking to you, felix.” you say. "you're just leaving like that?" he asks, acting surprised. his eyes are still locked on yours, he doesn't seem bothered by your rejection; he seems amused and intrigued instead. he's enjoying this game of cat and mouse. “yeah, classes start soon and i don’t wanna be late. im sure you don’t wanna miss yours either?” you ask. "you're always so proper about things, aren't you?" felix laughs, still keeping a playful tone even though it seems like he's trying to hide his frustration. "but you should know by now that i do whatever i want, rules have no meaning to me. i have plenty of time before class starts, and it's not like i care about attending anyway."

“well that’s amazing for you.” you say. “ill see you around, felix!” you smile at him. felix’s eyes flicker in a split second, almost as if they were considering pursuing you, but then his expression shifts into a playful shrug. “alright, see you around then, y/n.” he says with that same smooth british tone. “oh, by the way,” he adds with a grin. “if i do see you around - i wouldn’t mind grabbing a drink some time.” you smile at him and nod, giving him a small wave over the shoulder as you’re walking to your class.

felix smirks, taking in the way you walk away, your long, gorgeous legs flashing with each step. you weren't like the other girls, and he rather liked it that way. he makes a mental note to keep an eye out for you later in the day. the fact that he actually has to search for you now makes him excited. this is something new - and he's thrilled at the thought of pursuing you.

a few hours later you’re strolling along campus, on you’re way to the library to study. as you walk, you spot felix at a distance, leaning against a massive tree. there’s a small crowd surrounding him, laughing and having a great time as he’s in the middle of entertaining them with his wits and charm. he’s playing off the crowd easily, and you note how the girls are gazing up at him, some giggling and nudging each other, some blatantly flirting with him. you giggle at the sight, you knew felix was probably dying inside talking to all those bimbos, that’s what made it funny.

felix is good at entertaining the ladies, but he can’t keep a grin on his face for long. as soon as the girls leave him to go do their own things or to go to class, he sighs in relief - he’s not even the slightest bit interested in having casual conversations with these girls. he can’t help but wonder why these women can’t pick up on the fact that he’s not really interested in them at all.

you decide to go walk up to him. “you sure have a fan base if ive ever seen one.” you chuckle. felix glances your way as you approach, and his eyes flicker in surprise. after a moment’s pause, he shrugs, his smooth accent carrying over the air. “it gets tedious really quickly,” he chuckles, nodding towards the gaggle of girls who were making their way to class. “they have such terrible conversation skills, it’s impossible to have a decent talk with any of them.” you listen to his complaints. “oh yeah i bet.” you laugh. “where are you headed?” he asks you. “im just on the way to the library right now.”

“library? for work, or for pleasure?” he asks. his eyes flicker over you, and he raises an eyebrow. “personally, i can’t find myself enjoying a library visit, but it’s usually because i can’t find good reading material.” you chuckle hearing this. “you read?” you ask in a jokingly manner, but you were generally surprised. felix didn’t seem like the type to read.

“yes, i do read.” his tone is blunt, and as he says this he seems to consider whether you were actually joking or not. “i know how surprising it is, considering my social status, but i promise you i read.” his accent remains strong, giving a smooth edge to his words, though he sounds slightly amused and bemused. “what sort of books do you read?” you chuckle. “oh, i dont read at all. i try to avoid it because if i do end up reading a book, ill start to get interested.”

“you want to avoid getting interested in things?” he asks, his brow furling. he makes an effort not to let his surprise show - he’s not used to people avoiding reading. in his mind, it was an important part of life; if you didn’t read, you were missing something integral. “what’s so bad about getting interested in things?” he asks. “nothing, reading just isn’t my thing, i prefer visualization or audiobooks over reading.”

felix stares in mild bewilderment. this wasn’t what he expected. you seemed...complex, to say the least. he wasn’t used to people who were so unique like you. it was strangely attractive. his lips twitch into a smile. “audiobooks are quite good, i like the way they describe the characters' voices and the words the reader emphasizes. it really changes the experience.” you chuckle. “yeah. well i need to get these papers done so i can hand them in. you’re welcome to join me.” you look up and smile at him.

you have the power to make this arrogant man’s expression soften at your simple suggestion. his eyes narrow slightly as you tell him it’s an open invitation for him to join you in the library, as though he’s being offered something he shouldn’t refuse. “really?” he replies, his voice now soft and his tone a touch more playful. “yes, yes i don’t mind joining you,” he adds with a laugh, his gaze not breaking from your own - you feel like his sole purpose is to stare into your eyes.

“okay, awesome! what about your friends? wont they come looking for you?” you ask as you two start walking. “oh my friends will survive without me for a bit.” he nods once, and it’s clear he isn’t too fussed about abandoning them as long as he gets to spend time with you. “they’ll find something interesting to do without me, i’m sure.” he says this with complete dismissal for his friends, and the fact that he chooses you over them says a lot - though it’s hard to identify just what it is. his eyes scan you up and down as he says this, his grin widens. you nod.

a few minutes later of walking you guys make it to the library. you take a seat at an empty table as felix sits across from you. you both sit at the empty table, you in your seat and felix in his, neither of you making a move to initiate conversation. all that passes between you two are glances at each other, and the air becomes slightly warmer. you can feel felix watching you, his mind wandering as he considers what to say. he is a man used to making a move, yet for some reason he finds it difficult to open a dialogue with you. you’re different from other girls, and you baffle him in ways he didn’t know were possible.

“did you just come here to watch me or are you gonna work on something?” you say without looking up as you’re switching from paper to paper as you’re writing. your bluntness surprises him, but he shrugs it off and smiles to show he finds it charming. he looks at the stack of papers before you, but he finds that he can’t tear his eyes from you long enough to focus on his work. “i came here to work on something,” he says, his voice slightly husky now. “but i think there’s something much more interesting in front of me than my work.”

you look up from your papers just to look at him. “that was so corny.” you break out into laughter. felix breaks out into a grin at your laughter, and he laughs as well. he’s pleased that you find him charming enough to laugh at his corniness. he leans forward on the table slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “i do my best, and that was my best,” he says, his voice becoming deeper and more husky. “now, how about you stop writing those papers for a second and talk to me?”

“about?” you say as you continue to write on your papers. “anything. anything at all. i’d rather just stare at you, but i know that might be quite odd.” he says this with a chuckle, and his eyes sparkle in a playful way. “how about we start off with what it was like growing up in your family, or what you plan on doing after university. maybe something like that.”

you chuckle. “oh i dont really keep contact with my family.”“really?” he says, surprise in his voice. this was not what he expected either. his eyes flicker for a moment, and he stares at you with a curious expression. “so you don’t talk to anyone from your immediate family?” he asks. “nope. i don’t talk to anyone.” he’s obviously still in shock by this. “nobody at all?” he raises an eyebrow. this girl keeps surprising him. “not even close friends?”

“you’re funny for thinking i have em.” you chuckle.“how can you live without anyone? do you not get lonely living completely alone?” he asks, and his voice is suddenly soft and concerned. he was so used to his own packed social schedule and surrounded by so many people, and the thought that you chose to live alone completely confuses him. “after being used to it for so long, it doesn’t really start to bother you, I just stopped caring.”

“you don’t care about meaning?” he raises his eyebrow. there seemed to be no end to your bluntness. a part of him was fascinated, but the logical part of him was baffled at the simplicity of your life. how could you be at peace with only having yourself? “i love being by myself.” you smile. “you are so weird.” he chuckles as he’s trying to wrap his head around the thought of your life. “okay so wait, what if a boy was into you?” he asks, his voice almost an amused whisper. “would you turn him down completely?” he adds. “hm, no.” you say bluntly.

this caught him by surprise. he had no doubt you’d turn boys down, yet here you were saying you’d be open to a relationship? “so you’d go out with a guy if he were interested in you?” he asked eagerly. you had a feeling that these questions weren’t hypothetical. “i mean why not? what else is there to do.” you answer. you intrigue him. you were so uncomplicated and seemingly free. you didn’t have any restraints and you simply lived without much care or consideration for others. there was something about you that was quite captivating. “what if he was very clingy? wanting you for himself and wanting to see you all the time - wouldn’t that annoy you?” he adds.

“that’s fine, cause who else would i put my time into besides myself?” you chuckle. this reply makes it obvious how unique you were. to everyone else, that was the most ridiculous answer imaginable. how could a clingy guy not be annoying? how could someone be content in their own company? yet here you are, with such a simple answer to a difficult question. “wouldn’t it ever get too much, having a guy obsessed with you?” he continued to question you. you really thought about it. “i don’t know, it seems kinda nice..” your reply makes his heart beat faster. in this moment, there was nothing he wanted to do more than lean over the desk and kiss you. he can’t help but feel jealous at the thought of someone else wanting your attention. he smiles, but he’s hesitant to admit your response made him blush. “you like the sound of someone possessive and obsessed with you?”

“see when you put it like that, it sounds weird. as if you’re romanticizing it. i just think a relationship, where its focused on the two of you more than anything, is better than a relationship where you both are focused on totally different things. is that wrong?” you state. an intrigued smile spreads across his face as you explain your reasoning for finding possessive and obsessed men desirable. he considers your thoughts carefully - it does make sense. he thinks back to his own relationship with past girlfriends. they would rarely spend time with him, they’d talk about their friends more, and their conversations didn’t tend to go deeper than gossip or drama. “that’s not wrong at all, you’re completely right. i think i might have a newfound appreciation of possessive guys… because i completely agree with what you’ve just said.” the grin spreads wider. “exactly, so it makes sense.”

his gaze travels over you, almost as if he's analysing you. the way in which you're responding to his questions, the way you carry yourself - he can’t find fault in a single thing about you. as he stares, your beauty, your intellect, and your independent nature hit him all at once, and he feels overwhelmed by the desire to be with you. “you’re unlike anyone i’ve ever met,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “do you know how many times you’ve said that?” you chuckle. “once more can’t hurt, can it?” he grins, leaning forward slightly on the desk, his eyes still glued to your own. a part of him wants to keep conversing but another parts of him wants to kiss you immediately. it's confusing, like being torn in two different directions. he's trying to find the words that are right, that match up with this new spark between you both. "you do realise i can't stop thinking about you, right?"

“you are really something, felix, you know that?” you giggle. "something good or something bad?" he asks, with a teasing edge to his tone. he's pleased that you're responding so positively to his comments. the connection between you both is growing by the minute and you can tell he's trying his very best to avoid breaking the bubble. he wants to keep on talking, he wants to keep on flirting, he wants you two to keep on getting closer. "is that a...compliment? i get the impression that it's a compliment." he asks eagerly. “you’re something. i just can’t put my finger on it.” you go back to writing on your papers.

his eyebrows raise as he watches you go back to writing, the grin spreading from his lips fading slightly. he can't help but feel impatient with you; there was so many things he still wanted to get to know you over, but yet you kept on writing on your papers, seemingly more preoccupied with that than with him. he clears his throat slightly, his lips forming a thin line now. “may i ask what exactly is so more interesting than me?” you pause. “oh you dont want me to answer that.” you laugh. he leans further forward now, his expression turning playful but with a hint of teasing. “try me. just give me a hint of what could possibly be distracting you this much.” he throws his hands up in defense. “okay well firstly, you.”

your one answer fills him with a jolt of joy, a jolt of euphoria as he hears the words he most wanted to hear. he chuckles. “secondly?” you pretend to think. “no, that’s pretty much it.” he was taken by surprise again. you were playing with him again and he found it oddly entertaining. he tilts his head, a grin spreading across his lips once more. “really? nothing else at all except me?” you pause, pretending to think again. “nope, so hush so that im able to work.” at first he finds it hard to believe... but he knows this is just the way you are. straight to the point, blunt, straightforward. you're not the type to beat around the bush. he finds this very endearing and it makes you infinitely more attractive. he leans back in his chair for now and decides he should allow you to work. “fine fine,” he smiles. "i won't distract you any longer."

“thank you.” you say in a snappy tone before looking back up and smiling at him. his smile grows as he watches you look back up at him and smile. his heart skips a beat as your eyes lock onto his. there's a connection there between you both, he doesn't need any more proof than this. he's in awe that he's finally found someone that makes him feel this way. "can i ask you one thing?" he asks. “go ahead.” you say with your focus still on the papers in front of you.

his mouth opens to speak but hesitates. he wants to ask you but is afraid of what the answer may be. in the end he just decides to go ahead and ask what has been playing over and over in his head. "if... hypothetically, I asked you out on date, would that be something you'd be open to?" you pause, looking at him again. “are you sure this is hypothetical?” you ask.

he swallows, and then sighs, finally letting his guard down. "no, it's not hypothetical," he smiles. "I've been thinking of asking you out on a date ever since we first met. I just didn't want to risk making you uncomfortable by asking directly." he pauses for a few seconds then continues, "the question is, are you still interested? I completely understand if you're not." you chuckle at this. “hm.. alright, sure I’ll go out with you.”

this was the best possible response he could've received from you. your agreement hits him like an unexpected surge of adrenaline, and he smiles so wide that his cheeks hurt now. "are you free tonight?" he asks, his eyes never leaving yours. you could tell he was excited. you nod. “yeah, im free tonight.” his smile gets wider. "then how would you feel if i picked you up from your dorm at 7pm and we went somewhere nice, like a restaurant and then we can go for a walk and... i don't know, we'll see what happens?" at the end of his words the expression on his face changes, and his eyes flicker with hesitation. "is that alright with you?" you can’t help but smile at his nervousness. how he’s taking so fast, fiddling with his hands, you couldn’t lie, he looked so cute. “absolutely.”

your smile and positive response fills him with relief. you seem to have the magical ability to make him feel confident, at ease, and almost always, happy. he takes a deep breath to steady his nerves and then smiles again. "fantastic. i'll pick you up at 7pm, does that still work for you?" you chuckle at the way he repeats himself. “yes, 7 works for me.” he's never met anyone like you before, who can make him laugh this much. the way you chuckle at his repetitive nature is amusing to him, but it doesn't make him insecure or ashamed - it's just something that makes you, you. "fantastic, see you at seven. don't keep me waiting."

you smile at him as he gets up and leaves, shifting your focus back onto your papers that you had now finished. you started chewing on your pen as you stare down at the sheets of paper in front of you, your mind starts to wander, allowing your imagination to take over. you imagine yourself on a date with felix, the conversations you'd have, the laughs you'd share, and the smiles you'd spend hours doing. you smile warmly to yourself, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. it's a nice feeling.

seven eventually came around and you were prepared for felix to take you out. *or possibly take you down.* you heard a knock on your dorm door and immediately rushed to open it, still managing to keep your cool. you can already feel your heart beating faster as you look up and see felix standing at the entrance of your dorm. he sees you and his eyes light up, instantly sending a jolt through your body. he’s so handsome, so charming - you can’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach as he smiles down at you.

“hi, felix.” you say softly with a smile. “hi there, are you ready to go?” he smiles back at you. to see you smiling is so intoxicating, your warmth and positivity feels like a warm hug, giving you a feeling of safety and confidence. he notices your eyes are full of excitement and energy, and he can't stop staring. a part of him wants to keep staring at you, wants to memorize every detail about you, but he doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, so he instead looks away quickly. “yeah! im ready.” you step out and close the door behind you.

"great." he smiles at you, then places his hand over yours, gently squeezing it and lacing his fingers between yours. the feeling makes you feel so giddy and giddy inside that you can't help but smile widely. "let's go." he doesn't let go of your hand as you walk towards his car, a white jeep, which was parked right outside. your palm rests comfortably in the cradle of his fingers. he opens the car door for you, letting you enter first, before he gets in and drives you to the restaurant. in the car, your palm still rests comfortably in the cradle of his fingers. his thumb occasionally passes over your fingertips, tracing your skin. it's such a gentle, affectionate gesture, like he's checking you're still there. you can’t remember having a time more blissful or enjoyable than this one you're having right now, and you're loving every second of it.

you were a little surprised by his boldness, but still was loving each and every moment of it. he keeps his hand in yours for the short journey, but finally lets go upon your arrival at the restaurant. he smiles at you as you both leave the car and approach the restaurant, walking towards the entrance. you're now feeling very nervous and a little bit excited - your stomach is jumping with anticipation as each step brings you closer to the moment you have both been waiting for. “this is beautiful.” you look around the fancy ass restaurant in front of you.

"it really is, isn't it?" he says, looking at you now, with a wide smile on his face. "come on, let's get inside." he grabs your hand once more and leads you through the doors, into the restaurant. the interior is just as magnificent as the exterior, with plush upholstery and elegant chandeliers. you're awed by the opulence of the place, and your eyes can't help but wander around the room. once again, you find yourself looking at him more than anything else. he notices your gaze and meets it with a smile. you can't help but wonder what is going on inside his head, how he is coping with these intense feelings he has for you. he guides you both across the room to a table which is situated in the corner, away from other guests. he pulls out the chair for you to sit down and then takes his seat opposite. he looks at you for a long moment, and you can see the same intense emotions in his eyes. you can tell it's taking him all his willpower to not reach out for your hand again.

you don’t want to sit in silence, so you decide to take the initiative and start the conversation yourself. "so, I was thinking about our date and... I was just curious to know what you're expecting from this whole thing? like are you just trying to have fun or..." he listens to you carefully, his eyes never wavering. “well, I suppose it's a mix of both.” he smiles softly at you. "i definitely want to have fun, that's a given. but at the same time, i'd like to get to know you better, understand you. i feel there's this connection between us, and I want to see where it goes." you smile at his words, you really didn’t wanna admit it but you had fallen deeply for him, in the matter of what..a day? he notices your warm and comforting expression and can't help but smile back at you, unable to take his eyes off of you. he feels as if there's a connection that pulls you together, as if this is what was meant to be. it's an unfamiliar but wonderful feeling, one you've never experienced with anyone else before. you can feel the connection between you both, as if you're vibing on the same wavelength.

after two hours of nonstop conversation, jokes, laughs and smiles you both decide to call it a night. you're both in a good mood, content and happy with how the date went. as you walk to his car you can't help but notice that his hand gently brushes against yours, sending a jolt through you. as he opens the door for you and you get in your mind is filled with excitement and elation. you have such a good feeling about him, and from what he's told you and the way he’s acted with you tonight, you think he feels the same. “y’know..” you turn to him. “i really don’t want this night to end so soon..” his heart skips a beat as he hears you say that. you can tell his pulse quickens as he shifts in his seat. "me either..." he says, and his voice softens as he looks at you now. there's no denying the connection between you both, like the universe is bringing two souls together. you want this night to never end.

he turns back to the road and drives in silence for a few moments, before he pulls over and turns to look at you. he looks at you for a long time and you can feel his gaze, deep and intense. it almost feels unnatural that you're not already touching or kissing. he reaches over and gently touches your thigh, letting his fingers trace a curve along it a few times before he pulls away and says, “can i say something?" “uh huh?” you say nervously as your heart is beating so fast and you could feel your cheeks getting hot. this was definitely going somewhere and you were so excited.

he pauses for a second as he gathers his thoughts before he continues. "there's no denying the connection and chemistry between us, and... i'm feeling something that I've never felt before for anyone." You immediately catch yourself smiling, thinking that he's definitely going to try something. "can I?" he asks, his eyes locked on yours. “can you what?” you ask him. he cups your face, slyly bringing it closer as he eases in until you both just smash your lips together. you're taken aback by the suddenness of his bold move, but in just a split second you let out a soft moan, kissing him back. you can feel the passion instantly rush through your body as your kisses becomes more intense and your tongue begins to explore his mouth. you're lost in the thrill of it all as your lips move quickly and relentlessly, matching his pace. the rush of it all sends a jolt through you, as if you're feeling it in your entire body. your heart leaps up into your throat as he pulls away and lets out a soft breath. his hands slip back into your hair again and he takes you in for another long, intense kiss.

you giggle into the kiss, you’re also now forcing yourself into his lap. your tongue intertwines with his as he pulls you in tighter, his hands still firmly gripping your waist. you can feel the heat rising as your bodies touch, the sensations sending tremors through you. you feel like you're in a whirlwind of pleasure and desire, as if the whole world is spinning. he pulls you in to him so that your chest is up against his, your heart racing against his. his hands move under your back and up to the small of your back, gently massaging you. your kisses become more passionate and intense, the chemistry between you both rising to a fever pitch.

you move your hand down to his belt buckle, fumbling with it until you get it undone. you feel him shiver as you undo his belt and the sound of your breath quickened. he lets out a whisper as he kisses you on the neck. "do you want this?" you nod. “yeah, do you?” you say as your breath is shaken. "god, yes." he says, his breath shaking too. his hands slide back down to your rear and he squeezes firmly as he pulls you in closer. he reaches his hands back underneath you and lifts up your skirt. your body is pressed firmly against his, his lips brushing your neck as he kisses down to your collar bone. you can feel him reach down and pull your panties to the side. you were so eager to have him so you quickly freed him from the suffocation of his boxers.

you both moan loudly as your bodies press together, the intensity of it all so overwhelming. you can't believe this is actually happening, it feels so natural and you moan softly as he continues, his hands caressing your legs and moving up. the feeling of his hands on your bare skin sends shivers of excitement through you. your heart starts to race even faster, the sensation so overwhelming that you can't keep your breath steady. you position him at your entrance before slowly sinking down on him, earning a moan out of you as you get used to his size. “fuck!” you cry out.

"easy, love," he groans, his hands finding your hips to guide you deeper onto him. the feeling of being filled up and connected like this sends shivers down his spine. you kiss him again as you start moving on his dick. the kiss deepens as you begin to move on him, his hips meeting your rhythm. his eyes close, lost in the sensation of being both desired and desired deeply. "that’s it, baby," he pants, his hands now gripping your waist firmly. you continue to pick up the pace, while also being a moaning mess. felix will chuckle at you because you really did seem to be into it. “fuck…" he groans, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "god, you feel so good..."

you were practically bouncing on him now, you didn’t care if anyone was hearing you either. it was just you two that mattered in that moment. you grind your hips against him, feeling the heat between the two of you. "fuck, i'm close..." he whispers against your lips. “are you close, baby?” he asks you. “uh huh..” you were panting and didn’t sound like how you normally would. you could also feel yourself get more turned on every time he use a cheeky ass little pet name on you. his eyes roll back in pleasure as you continue to take control, his body tensing beneath you. "fuck, yes," he growls, his hands moving up to grip your tits firmly.

"cum with me, baby." you nod, letting him know that you’re close to that point to. his fingers dug into your waist again as he lets out a grunt, shuddering beneath you. "fuck, im gonna cum..!" you gasp out, “felix..” his name leaving your mouth on a moan. his rhythm picks up, hips meeting yours in a grinding motion. “oh fuck..." he groans, his body tensing up as he feels himself cumming. his thrusts become harder, deeper, as he releases himself into you, filling you up with his warmth. "felix..." you cry out his name as the pleasure overwhelms you both.

he pants heavily, his arms now wrapped around you, holding you close as he tries to catch his breath. "god, that was...fuck..." he gasps out, a smile forming on his lips. you giggle with him, laying your head on his chest after all that. both of your breaths getting less and less heavier. "was it good for you, baby?" he asks softly, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back. “fuckin amazing.” you say with less energy in your voice. “also where did all these pet names come from?” you ask. “i don't know," he chuckles. "they just kind of...came out." he nuzzles his face into your hair, content to just lie there with you for a while. "im glad you liked it."

“of course. you made my night so special, i really really do like you, felix.” you say with a smile. “then it’s probably a good time for me to ask.” he pauses, sitting you up so you can properly see him as he speaks. “will you be my girlfriend?” you sat there in awe, you nodded your head eagerly. “but wait, it’s so early is it not?” you question. yes you did believe the term “love at first sight”, you just never thought you would live it. “it doesn't matter," he replies, cupping your cheek gently. "i want to be with you, and if that's too soon for you, then we can wait however long you need." he says in a soft voice as he strokes your hair gently. “then I don’t wanna wait. i wanna be yours.” a bright smile spreads across his face as he leans in to kiss you softly. "im glad to hear that," he whispers against your lips. "ill make sure every day with you is special, just like tonight." he says softly. “and take away my ability to walk? no thank you.” you chuckle, leaning back into his chest. “i love you so much, baby.” he says, kissing the top of your head and wrapping his arms around you. “i love you too.”

“we should get back to our dorms right?” he asks. “oh shit, that’s right.”

y’all finally got it!! and yk I got?? lack of sleep !

no but frl im so glad I got this done cause now i can focus on school again since im back and its my first time like writing smut and publishing it so... anyways enjoy this ILYSM happy new year 👼🎀🤍

[yurislilygarden]

ʚїɞ Self Aware! Hazbin Hotel

ʚїɞ Their reaction after becoming self aware and first thoughts about reader! part 1

ʚїɞ Alastor and Lucifer Morningstar

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ Word count: just about 1.7k

ʚїɞ I planned for all hotel characters first but then I realized how much I'm thinking on each paragraph and its details that I decided to just do 2-3 charas per part😭

Very few characters would notice something wrong on the first watch of the show, but wouldn't realize, nor become self-aware until the 2nd or further watch. 

While everyone's reaction would be different with different amounts of stages before total acceptance of the situation, they all would share the first emotion, simple disbelief. They would first need to even process the fact that they're not real, that they were created solely for the purpose of entertaining… something? Someone? In a completely different Universe. That everything that they thought had happened to them before they died didn't actually happen, they were never alive in the first place. Only after that did the emotions and reactions differ. The very first emotion or actual personal reaction would be:

ALASTOR

Irritation with a hint of madness.

His first thoughts about the situation would be how ironic it is that he seeks entertainment for himself while his own person, no, character, was a source of entertainment for whatever was watching them from time to time. It was quite ironic how he said that his face was made for radio when the truth couldn't be further from that. He was literally created solely to be watched on that funny colored box by… whatever was watching him and the others.

He was irritated at not noticing that something was wrong immediately, now he thinks about how blind he was, how obvious everything was. The city is actually quiet, too quiet when the noise and demons aren't needed, when they're not meant to be heard. Nothing actually happened that one time when he was out for a fix of his coat, it just got magically fixed, he went and came back when someone else decided he was to do so. They didn’t have much actual free will when he thought about it and that's what he was mad about. He thought that his deal was a massive problem to him, oh how wrong he was because the problem was you.

He doesn't know how he or the others didn't notice the small, glowing butterfly flying above their heads from time to time. They couldn't be that blind, could they? The little crystal thing (could he break it?) must have done something to be unnoticed for so long. He wondered how long they were watched for, the little thing above their heads seemed to be speaking sometimes, seemingly knowing what would happen… at least he thought so, the words would cut out so often that he was left with a pure guess at one point.

He didn't want to accept that he wasn't real, that he was just a 2D character with the sole purpose of entertaining someone. He was meant to be the one entertained, not you. But he couldn't actually do anything, could he? For sure not until more of the people he knew were aware. 

That's also something that he noticed. When it came to the hotel staff and guests, he seemed to be the only one who realized the situation at first. It took a few times of some events repeating before he noticed that someone else from the hotel was noticing the little crystal butterfly above their heads as well. 

Alastor seemed to be the first, or one of the very first people who noticed that something was wrong. He wasn't sure if someone realized before him, and if they did then who, but he was somewhat glad that he could finally discuss the topic at least a little once the other hotel patrons found out about the truth. He isn't one to really open up in any way, but this was a matter where he had to communicate with the others.

You. He didn’t know what to think of you at first. He did see you in a more negative light at first, under many emotions hitting him at once which he hated but after he calmed down, he started thinking. At first, he was sure you were some sick person seeking entertainment from the suffering of others, and yeah he was doing pretty much the same, but were you really alike when he wasn’t even real and you were? He was pretty sure that he’s never gonna get used to saying that.

Over time, when he stopped overthinking (he’s gonna deny that he was doing that till the day of his 2nd death), he noticed a few changes. The less negative his posture and thoughts were about you, even if neutral, the more he was able to find out. Alastor was able to pick up more than a few words whenever you talked, he was able to hear you talking clearly enough to recognize a possible gender, and something he wasn’t sure that he wanted to think about, it was way easier to pick up your emotions in your words.

I feel like he would be more lenient towards you if it turned out you were a female (or identified as one), but that would be the mama’s boy inside of him talking. There wouldn’t be too many differences of course, but those who spent enough time around him would be able to tell there's a difference after finding out your gender if it turned out you weren’t a man (again, not too much but it IS noticeable).

He would go from lowkey hating you at first to being mostly neutral with a hint of positive light as you seemed to do nothing but watch, up until later on when everyone is self-aware as well and would talk about the whole thing. Only then would the feelings towards you, the little watcher, as he first called you, turn more positive.

LUCIFER

Massive inner conflict and a complete mix of emotions

He didn’t know what to think. It was hard to comprehend that he didn’t actually live for as long as he thought, that all the things that supposedly happened, in fact never were even close to happening, they were just… a scripted past. 

Was all his suffering for nothing? Was it there just to entertain someone? Did those things who watched them enjoy seeing them sad and hurt? He was simply lost on what to think about the whole situation, it wasn't something that he could prepare himself for in any way beforehand. 

He was disappointed in himself for not noticing immediately or at least faster that something was not right. He's the literal King of hell! Even if… only in a show apparently… but he still is. No one better say anything about that because he's already on the brink of a yet another breakdown. He cannot take much more.

Should he try doing something about this? Or should he stay quiet and go with the script as he's supposed to? He wasn’t sure about the answer himself and had no one to answer his questions. The thought that what he thought were eons of life was actually a lie was… a little terrifying. Who knows just how much can someone force them to do without caring for their opinions because they don’t know that he and the others are aware of everything now, how much can you cause without their consent? He wasn’t sure if you or anyone else knew about them being self-aware or not.

He would actually try to ignore the little butterfly whenever he would see it, but at the same time, many questions were swirling in his mind.

Why were you around? Did you like to see them suffering? Did you have any control over what you saw? Did you have some sort of control over them? Did you have plans regarding them? Did you-

Yeah, again, he has a lot of questions and absolutely zero answers.

His personal feelings about you were all around at first. Not sure whether he should hate, dislike, or be generally negative about you, be more neutral, or be on the more positive side, especially since you didn't seem to do anything but watch them. Like it's all that you could do when it comes to them, but he couldn't be 100% sure.

Similarly to Alastor, he would be one of the characters who noticed something wrong on the first watch of the show before becoming self-aware quite soon after that. I don't think he, nor Alastor, would notice the other knows too fast, since both try to act like nothing's wrong around others. He did not want to be just a 2D character, something to be watched on a screen. It was… humiliating, in his eyes. He could tell that Charlie and the others weren't aware of anything at first so he didn't speak about it until later on when he was sure that they came to their senses, as he would like to say.

He wondered how long were you actually there before he, or anyone else, started to see or notice you, especially since he could literally hear you. Both as the small insect and the occasional words he was able to pick up. And that's if he was to forget the butterfly was literally, softly fucking glowing. Yeah, they're all blind.

I think that if you’re on the younger side, (which technically is any age a human can be alive at compared to him lmao) he would be a little softer, especially if you're similar to his daughter in character. It would come from the paternal side of his, you would probably remind him of Charlie so much :(

He would be more on the negative side at first, as much as he wishes he didn't straight up assume how you were as a person, it took some time but he went into the more neutral zone before being positive about you after being able to hear more of you talking, as he was able to at least have more idea about your character and wasn't completely clueless like at the start.

Your nickname also got changed to something else, something cuter over time, as Alastor’s name for you, little watcher, was deemed not good enough by everyone (Lucifer's words)

Notes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated

[justblades]

okok I have a request. Imagine chatting w an ai (nsfw) and hsr men (Blade, jing Yuan) find out? (Separate)

they catch you chatting an ai for nsfw purposes !

with : blade & jing yuan x gender neutral! reader

a/n : was kicking my feet blushing imagining this tbh 🫦

little did you know, jing yuan is peeking over the margins of your shoulder, his eyes scanning every spicy text messages you and the bot have exchanged for quite a while now. an abrupt clearing of throat jolts your body, you turn around revealing the general behind you. "g-general!" you stammer from utter shock and your posture stiffens, phone immediately shoved deep in your pocket.

"i was not aware until now that technology could serve this purpose as well." he says, beaming a pseudo innocent smile in juxtaposition to your panic stricken self. "although i've been meaning to ask . . why resort to this? you know very well what i'm capable of— request anything and i shall grant it." jing yuan's words were laced with a teasing tone yet he also sounded very solemn. "are you sure? anything?" you clarify and he leans closer to you, both of your faces a hair's breadth away. "yes. anything."

shifting your gaze away to avoid the tension growing in the atmosphere, you thought of a quick, sham excuse. "what if you don't like it—" he hushes you in an instant with his index finger sealing your lips. "i said requests, not what ifs. that aside, what are you going to ask for?" jing yuan reiterates. as if a cat bit your tongue, you were left astounded, unable to budge any movement.

blade is purposely getting intimate with you, intending to make you let your guard down so he can finally check what you've been up to. as usual; he's irresistible, and there he succeeds in doing so. he retracts from your saliva slicked neck, scrolling on the phone screen only to reveal a series of imaginary events you and the ai bot are roleplaying in. "hmm. so you're one of them." he says, a blank look carved on his features.

"wait, let me explain—" you protest and let out a nervous chuckle instinctively, "you have the real deal here, is that not enough?" shockingly, the words that blade verbalized are in stark contrast to his expression. "don't take it the wrong way blade." replying to his question, you immediately dismiss the gadget and hide it away from his field of vision. "then do all of it to me, let's enact those scenes." you cock a brow, confused while blade's crimson eyes anchor on you, "let's make those texts come to life so i don't get the wrong idea, no?"

your heart flips, goosebumps ride on your skin but blade doesn't display any hint of hesitation. he slowly guides your body, making you lay your back flat on the mattress. "i recall you said something like 'hooking my right leg on your shoulder—" blade re-enacts the movements precisely how you imagined it in your head while you were texting the ai. "—you steadily plant kisses on the bare skin up to my thigh'." he continues as if he was telling a story and leaves heating kisses on the body part, flashing you a sly smile right after. "what's next?"

[rosequarzo]

whiskers of change.

૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა • ! boyfriend! rafayel + fem! reader established relationship not related to the plotline rafayel being jealous over a cat yes ☆ warning not proofread . . . !? & 806 — catalogue

notes. i still hate this man i swear with my entire heart. but when i got to the chapter when he made a fuss about a cat got me laughing tbh... tagging @rninies, here you go.

When you mentioned that you were running late as you had encountered something, Rafayel didn’t think much about it. He had assumed you were held back by someone; much to his annoyance and continued touching up on his painting.

The artist was almost done when his ears picked up the familiar pair of approaching footsteps, followed by his door swung open from outside. The man dropped whatever he was holding, turning with a bright grin on his face, only for it to drop when his eyes landed on his worst nightmare. 

“Rafayel, hello? Are you still there?” You called out to him, one hand closing the door while the other was cradling a cat in your arms. 

Huffing, Rafayel got off his stool and approached you. He scowled and his eyes narrowed as he glared down at the annoying feline creature. His fingers twitched; the temptation of kicking the cat out of his home getting more tempting by the second. But he restrained himself. The last thing he wants is for you to be disappointed with him and he doesn’t like to see you sad, not when the cause was him. 

“You…” His voice trailed off, eyes focused on the cat as he watched it purring in content when it leans into your touch, its tail swaying side to side.

“Me?” You echoed, bemused. 

“You didn’t tell me you had adopted a… c… cat,” he forced himself to finish speaking, using his entire strength to tear his eyes away from the creature. 

You hummed, eyes flickering up to his face before returning to the purring cat. “It was abandoned and I couldn’t bear to leave it alone. Plus, it looked like it was going to rain soon and it didn’t have any home, so I brought it with me.” 

“And you didn’t think of dropping it off at the nearest animal shelter?” He arched an eyebrow. 

“They were already closed. I’ll drop it off tomorrow morning, before I head for work. So just for tonight-” 

“No.” 

You sighed, knowing your partner will react like this. You were fully aware of his unspoken dislike for cats and until now, you didn’t know the reason why. But you were patient, choosing to wait for him to spill the beans. A part of you finds his current self rather adorable, with how he was fuming over how the cat was stealing your attention from him. And who were you to not tease him? 

“Rafayel, don’t tell me you’re jealous,” you teased, lips curling upwards in a mischievous grin. 

“Jealous? Me?” He shots you a bewildered look and barks out a laugh, turning away from you. “Who says I’m jealous? Why would I be jealous over a cat?” 

You chuckled, deciding to drop the subject and let him be. “Sure, Rafayel. Whatever makes you happy.” 

~ 

Currently, you were in the kitchen preparing dinner for the two of you. You had left the cat in the living room, hoping your partner could get to know the cat and hopefully, it might change his opinion on cats as well. Rafayel sat in the corner of the couch, purposely stretching his long legs out so his entire body was occupying the couch, not giving any space for the cat.

But the creature wasn’t bothered. In fact, it merely jumped up and made itself comfortable on his stomach. 

Thankfully, you weren’t there to witness him visibly flinching when he felt a weight on his stomach. Rafayel had nearly flung the cat to the nearest wall but managed to catch himself at the last minute. He remained as still as a statue, watching warily as the cat curled folded its paws to hide it underneath its body, turning into a cute loaf.

He slowly reached out his hand, unsure of what he should do, only for the cat to make the choice for him. 

It leans into his palm, eyes closing in content and he swore he can hear faint purring from its small body. Rafayel was speechless, taken aback by how the cat had readily shown its affection to him; a complete stranger. He tried to copy your movement from before, awkwardly stroking its head and he knew he had got it right when the purring didn’t stop. 

Huh, perhaps cats aren’t so bad. 

~

“Dinner’s ready,” you called out once you finished setting the table. 

You headed to the living room when you were greeted with nothing but silence. The sight before you made you paused and it took all of your might to not squeal in delight. You quickly whipped out your phone, ensuring it was on silent mode and took multiple pictures of the heart-melting sight before you.

Satisfied with the pictures, you leave, not wanting to interrupt the peaceful moment of your partner sleeping with the cat resting on his stomach. 

[poisonous-honey]

Why Are Their Designs So Complicated???

Who's Here: Kaveh, Alhaitham, and Reader/Player

Contains: Self aware genshin au (not the cult au), neither Alhaitham nor Kaveh speak since they're trying to keep the fact they're self-aware hidden, Kaveh outfit slander

You thought Kaveh would be an easier character to draw. At a glance, his outfit is much simpler than a majority of the casts, so you thought he'd be a safe pick for fanart. How wrong you were.

Alhaitham watched from the sidelines, far away from where your camera was pointing, as you fawn over Kaveh. It had been a while since you came to Sumeru City for anything while you were playing, so his curiosity got the better of him. Though it was nice to hear you without needing to partake in all the labour inducing tasks you always force him to do, He could do without Kaveh looking so smug.

He suddenly hears you complain as you turn Kaveh to the right, making him finally take notice of his presence. He could see Kaveh wanted to say something, probably to gloat, but with you currently controlling him he couldn't risk anything. Kaveh still had this air of pride and arrogance surrounding him, and it was obvious he was trying to show him up. Alhaitham merely raises an eyebrow at him before quickly tuning into what you were saying.

"I should have thought this through more. Why didn't I inspect his outfit beforehand? This is painful."

Kaveh's face immediately fell before he quickly fixed his error and returned it neutral before you could notice. Though, Alhaitham could tell just looking at his eyes and the slight twitching of his fingers that Kaveh was anxious.

"Why's there a gold band on his thigh? There's no purpose for it, and I don't think that'd be comfortable to sit with. Why do so many characters just have bands on their thighs for no reason? To make drawing them take longer?"

Alhaitham continues to watch as you move Kaveh every which way, and he can see he's struggling to keep his composure.

"I-I don’t even want to draw his scarf, but he looks unfinished without it. How do I simplify this, so I don't want to die drawing more nonsensical detail."

"I just wanted to make fanart for Writing on the Wall, why do these characters have to be so complicated. His outfit looked so simple in comparison to everyone else, but now I just want to keel over."

Kaveh looked like he was about to pass out, and it's quite a shock that you haven't noticed how not normal he's currently acting. Your blindness is currently acting in their favour, though, so while you're distracted he'll try to signal to Kaveh to get a hold of himself-

"Thank God, I think I'm done sketching his outfit. Kaveh I love you so much, To the moon and back, but I'm never drawing you again. Or anyone ever… Okay that's a lie, I love you all too much, but god I wish I had the patience to not go batshit. Now I'm just exhausted and don't even want to think about colouring this right now. I'll explore Fontaine a bit, I guess. I just need my exploration team-"

Your voice fades as you switch your team and teleport away. At least that saves them from Kaveh losing his composure in front of you, but now he's sure he's having a breakdown in his house. The things he puts up with for you. At least he has new leverage to pull against him.

[itsbuckytm]

Distraction / Coriolanus Snow

Summary : Coriolanus and You are both selected as mentors, and let just say that he whenever you feel a little too 'sociable' he gets distracted and would make sure to who you belong to.

Enjoy! (English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any mistake)

To ascend to the role of mentor demanded a blend of finesse, charisma, and an unblemished demeanor, qualities reserved for the privileged echelons of Panem's chosen. The revelation of one's inclusion wasn't a mere announcement but a unstable pause, a stillness punctuated by the resounding utterance of names until, unmistakably, yours found its place on the coveted list. 

Now, endowed not only with the prestigious title but also the requisite capability, you navigated the ensuing challenges with a sense of latent assurance. Throughout the process, an uncanny awareness gripped you, a conviction that Coriolanus’ watchful gaze bore into your very essence. An enigmatic conflict brewed within him, an unspoken desire for your exclusion even as he showered relentless accolades upon you. 

In the covert depths of nocturnal meetings within his private sanctuary, his expressions wove a tapestry of profound admiration and genuine regard. Strikingly absent was any semblance of feigned surprise at your nomination, suggesting an anticipation of fate's alignment. "Y/N, step forward." Your name resonated with a meticulous pride in the legacy of your family, prompting you to descend gracefully along with your peers. One by one, individuals were chosen to assume the pivotal role of mentor, all for what ultimate purpose? The perilous pursuit of victory in the Hunger Games.

Coriolanus, in stark contrast, observed each nuance of your demeanor. Whether it was your poised rise from the chair, the exuberant cheers of your friends celebrating your selection, or the unmistakable pleasure tinged with a touch of envy directed toward the other male. You consistently confided in Coriolanus about the depth of your friendship with this individual. However, despite your forewarnings and the reassurances delivered in your angelic voice, it appeared that these declarations did little to prevent Coriolanus from appreciating in disgust, the subtlest of gestures exchanged between you and your friend in that crucial moment—a simple yet profound hug.

As the ceremony drew to a close, Coriolanus lingered at the entrance, anticipating your emergence. A fervent desire to claim your attention exclusively simmered within him, yet he judiciously postponed exploring those emotions, allowing you the space to break free from the throng. The spotlight gravitated toward the newly appointed mentors, Coriolanus included, but he deliberately sought the sanctuary of distance and its attendant consequences. 

In the midst of joyous embraces shared between you and your chosen classmate, the vibrant hues of your smiles illuminated the tableau. When your eyes inevitably locked with Coriolanus's, a fleeting yet authentic smile on your lips wove a narrative of a carefully crafted excuse, suggesting an impending meeting with an urgency that, beneath its surface, concealed the true intention of drawing near to Coriolanus himself. "And I pondered, how in the world could I ever be chosen." You remarked with a momentary pause, a self-assured smirk gracing your features as you finally drew close to Snow. To this, Snow responded with a mirrored smirk, acknowledging. "Told you that you'd be selected. Can't say I was mistaken this time."

Flashing a subtle eye roll in response to his confidently asserted demands, you couldn't help but be amused by the way he carried himself. Not to mention, he felt the need to remind you of your privileged status as one of the select few chosen to be a mentor. Although you managed to conceal any traces of pride on your face, there was something intriguing about Coriolanus's sudden actions. The casual brush of his fingers against your waist, coupled with the assertive manner in which he approached you, conveyed a sense of control that he seemed to have gained from observing the ceremony. Despite the unexpected nature of his behavior, you didn't appear irritated; instead, you willingly let him take charge. 

Breaking the silence, you interjected with a pause, shifting your gaze momentarily from Coriolanus to your friend, who had earlier hinted at a noticeable intimidation for Coriolanus. Returning your gaze to Coriolanus, you added. "You know," With a slight emphasis. "If you continue with this overly protective demeanor, you might end up making the poor thing even more uncomfortable." The emphasis on the 'poor thing' became more pronounced as your full attention returned to Coriolanus.

"When do I ever come across as too cocky?" He inquired, arching a brow in a way that seemed designed to make you feel diminutive compared to his self-assured demeanor. As you observed him, you could have sworn his smirk subtly grew in response to the effect he was having on you. Moreover, he didn't shy away from expressing his desire, doing so with a degree of sophistication that bordered on subtle affection. If the dynamics of your relationship were as apparent as he made them seem, you might have suspected he was merely engaging in this for amusement. Consequently, he left you with no choice but to respond to his probing question. "I am genuinely surprised that I can endure such teasing." You replied, somewhat taken aback by the unexpected turn of the conversation.

As the room gradually emptied, you sensed Coriolanus' breath drawing nearer to your skin. His warm presence had a dual effect, both intimidating and strangely comforting, especially when his arm casually encircled your waist, indicating no intention of letting go. His gaze softened as he noticed the subtle glimmer in your eyes in response to his proximity, even though you hadn't consciously tried to make it obvious. "You know, you look oddly beautiful today." He remarked. Stepping back slightly offended from his comment, you decided to play along in this familiar game that invariably concluded with a well-timed kiss between the two of you. “You don’t look bad yourself.” 

In that moment, you experienced the gentle touch of his lips effortlessly gliding across your skin. Starting from your neck, his plush lips skillfully caressed and sucked at your soft flesh, leaving marks that would need to be concealed for the coming week, if not a few months, should he persist. Instead of dissuading him, you found yourself suggesting he continue, and he did. His free hand roamed down your entire body, drawing you closer to him. "You are mine," He asserted relentlessly, repeating the declaration without warning, as his lips now yearned for the connection with yours. "Mine until the end." He proclaimed with a conviction that left no room for doubt. 

"I am yours." Your voice whispered softly, almost like suppressed whimpers escaping your lips as you endeavored to keep any audible sounds at bay. The awareness of being in a public space heightened the need for discretion, as the uncertainty of potential intruders loomed. "Yours until eternity, Coriolanus Snow." You added. His smile widened, and amid the kisses, you felt his teeth gently sinking into your bottom lip, eliciting more of those restrained whimpers and a silent plea for him to continue. "We should be careful not to get caught." You reminded him, although his affections only intensified, fueling a growing desire for more. "Who cares if someone sees us, sweetheart," he dismissed, his words brushing aside any concern for discretion.

"I do." A voice, familiar yet elusive in its identification, caused both of you to freeze in place. Coriolanus' grip on your arm tightened, the intensity more pronounced this time. He refused to release it, his brows furrowing in anger. It was evident that the intrusion had upset him more than either of you could have anticipated.

Volumnia Gaul fixed her gaze on both of you, her eyes piercing and unwavering. A pause lingered, seemingly devoted to contemplating the fate she had in mind for the two of you, not to mention devising a fitting punishment. Her reluctance to do so was palpable, considering your shared reputation as the Academy's top students and mentor. "Dr. Volumnia Gaul..." Coriolanus broke the silence with his response. In his defense, given the way he had left you in a state of supplication and submission, you found yourself rendered in silent, unable to offer any immediate rebuttal. “I can explain.” 

"No need for it." She remarked, despite being well aware of the relationship dynamics between you and Coriolanus. While part of you yearned to inquire about the how of her knowledge, the weight of Gaul's reputation, coupled with her own legacy, left you feeling restless and apprehensive. The fear of inviting punishment held you back from probing further. However, to your surprise, Gaul chose not to impose any retribution. "Just be careful next time, especially you, Snow." She cautioned, emphasizing the importance of discretion in your interactions. 

As her figure faded from view, you raised a skeptical brow in response to her remark, a shared laughter ensuing from the peculiar conclusion it left. "What did she mean by 'be careful'?" An undercurrent of concern swept through you, but Coriolanus reassured you with a gentle caress on your face, assuring you that everything would be okay. "Nothing, I suppose. My distraction just makes me a little too vulnerable at times." He confessed. Observing him closely, you tilted your head with a smirk playing on your lips. "And..." You paused for a moment, carefully choosing your words. "Am I the distraction?"

“You are.” 

[comicaurora]

How would you as the writer say each of the main six characters fits into which major characteristics of the five man band?

I'd say they don't, but it is fun to lay out the arguments for each of them filling every role.

Kendal:

The Leader; he's the one who got everyone together and he carries the most authority, literally speaking for a deity and doing most of the real negotiations with the powerful forces they deal with.

The Lancer; he's a foil to nearly everybody else in the group, and despite his quiet and gentle tone, has the worst track record of going off by himself and getting into trouble.

The Big Guy; he's got the most metaphysical oomph with the widest applications, and he hits the hardest out of anyone when he decides to start hitting. Gets taken out of commission early to avoid this outcome.

The Smart Guy; with the accumulated knowledge of centuries' worth of lifetimes and the remembered experience of a god, he has access to a wellspring of knowledge with an ease that nobody else can match.

The Heart; he's the one who keeps drawing people into the group, and he cares so, so deeply about their well-being.

Alinua:

The Leader; when the others argue or fret, she's the one who actually makes decisions.

The Lancer; she's learned a lot of hard lessons and sees Kendal making mistakes she's already learned from, and that tension brings them into conflict even though they care deeply about each other.

The Big Guy; direct conduit to a force beyond any god, when something really big needs breaking it's up to her and nobody else.

The Smart Guy; literally cannot stop overthinking, has an intuitive understanding of something deeply arcane to everyone else.

The Heart; motivated by deep compassion at the core of her being, even when it's tactically unwise or she thinks it'll make her explode.

Erin:

The Leader; he is absolutely certain that he is the leader of the group.

The Lancer; proud and self-confident, immediately sure that he knows what's going on better than anyone else, he's a foil to both Kendal and Alinua who are very aware of their limits. This also means Erin gets himself into trouble so, so often, and is continually surprised when the others bail him out.

The Big Guy: The most diverse range of magical firepower plus a superpowered evil side for spice. Erin is a mighty glacier and a glass cannon at the same time.

The Smart Guy; he is absolutely certain he is the smart guy of the group. The most book-smart, certainly, and fundamentally driven by a deep and profound curiosity to understand the world.

The Heart; he'd never say or believe as much, but his greatest frustration with himself is that he wants to be coldly logical and brilliant and instead he's driven by a pesky moral compass that demands he sacrifice his goals and convenience for the people he loves.

Falst:

The Leader; he'd never believe so, but he's very good at taking charge in a crisis, and the decisions he makes generally work out well for everyone. He's also very good at thinking tactically in terms of everyone's abilities and how they factor into the group. Also, probably the most explicitly loyal member of the group.

The Lancer; almost the platonic ideal of Lancer Energy. Angry and snarky and happy to second-guess everyone around him.

The Big Guy; in a Wolverine sort of way, it's less how hard he hits and more how hard he can get hit before he goes down for good. This is the only role he thinks he's good for.

The Smart Guy; aside from a lot of street smarts, he's a deeply curious and puzzle-solving type, and Erin has been deeply impressed with him since he robbed him for the purposes of homebrewing a backyard enchantment. It's all tactical.

The Heart; deeply, painfully loyal to his friends due to a raw, open wound of loneliness. Will hold the group together if he has to dig in his claws to do it.

Dainix:

The Leader; the only person in the group who actually has experience leading a troupe of fighters and knows how to look out for a group as a whole rather than a handful of loners.

The Lancer; the role he thinks the fills, in the "second in command good at taking orders" sort of way.

The Big Guy; has a literal hulk mode

The Smart Guy; the "has way too many weapons and knows how to use all of them" variety. His expertise is in taking down things much bigger and scarier than he is, and you can't do that without being tactical.

The Heart; deeply empathic and extremely in tune with how the people around him are feeling, and the only member of the group with both the emotional intelligence and the sharpness to cut through various teammate's emotional defenses and actually get them to open up. Not too polite to leave other people's issues alone.

Tess:

The Leader; no way in hell. The only role she categorically denies. Tess's beating heart is wanderlust and that doesn't mesh with a group of any kind.

The Lancer; yes please. She'll do her own thing first and foremost, and when it intersects with other people, she'll help out as she sees best.

The Big Guy; a literal lightning bruiser who resolves every problem by finding a way to punch it.

The Smart Guy; a subtler instance because she's fairly inattentive to anything outside her very narrow range of focus, but when it comes to her areas of expertise, she puts things together faster than anyone else. The first to realize what was going on with Tynan, the first to understand Dainix, the first to track down Erin.

The Heart; not particularly observant, but when she's confronted with someone she recognizes to be in deep distress, she'll open her heart and "home" to them without hesitation. Also, makes friends ridiculously easily.